#i HATE jewel tones i do NOT want them near me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

somedaytakethetime · 1 year ago

Text

And continuing where I left off from this will be part two of the thingie. I just didn't want to keep writing on that part, I can't explain why. My brain doesn't make sense to me either, so... all I know is that there was a clear line that I needed to divide between parts and thus I'm doing it.

Notes: This part will be more.. rated. Granted, nothing too graphic because this is still mostly about feelings and human, emotional connections. But still, this part gets more heated and mature than the previous one. So.. the youthlings probably shouldn't read it, but I don't know the etiquette on that one..

Word count: 3 098 words

She feels good. Soft, and warm and pliable. Her skin is like silk under his hands. Her hair tickles his face as she melts forward. Her nails are digging into his chest as she moves above him. He digs his own fingers into the flesh of her hipbones, she's feels so good. Smells sweet, sounds sweet too. Little broken, whined mewls coming from her. He laughs, soft and desperate, nearly a mad laugh. He's losing his mind, he figures, but how can he not? This is the nicest feeling he's had in decades, possibly in his whole life. She whispers his name, in a whiny tone, right there in his ear. He clings to her, pulls her down deeper, reaches one hand up to brush her hair away. Her eyes are glazed with pleasure, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, her lips are just as pink. He wants to bite her, to write his name all over her, to steal her away and never let anyone set eyes on her again. She's his, and he doesn't like sharing. She's whining softly, higher and higher, desperate to reach that bliss he wants just as badly. "Fucking hell, I've been dreaming about this for so long now.." his voice sounds rough to his own ears, he sounds a little drunk he thinks. He feels drunk too. There's a haziness to everything, the bright golden light from the sun setting is blinding, it floods the room and makes his eyes almost squint to look at her. She says something he doesn't understand, he struggles to hear her but she starts to sound quieter and quieter, her hips slip from his hands, he tries to grasp for her, to hold her, but he feels like he can't touch her anymore. He's desperately trying to cling to her body, to pull her closer, but it all just fades away before he can fall into the bliss he was so desperate for. His eyes open, '06:30' flashes on the bedside clock in the dark room. There's an ache in his groin, he's hard and it's painful. He sighs, rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling. 'Different night, same shit as usual' he's angry and frustrated, throws the covers back and gets up, walks into the bathroom, turns on the shower and gets in. Freezing water this early is terrible for the bones, but amazing for the muscles. It's especially good at shocking his system off of wanting things it cannot have.

He's come to realise that he wants her. Craves her attention, her approval, everything. She refuses to get near him, builds a closer bond with his best friends, and he's deeply jealous of that. Because none of them can have her, nor do they even care to at all, and yet he can but she refuses to give him the time of her day. And he hates being ignored and overlooked. It's petty, he's well aware, but he's petty. If she's going to shower other men in attention, then it's only fair she showers him in attention too. He nearly pouts and stomps his foot, he's so aggravated about the whole situation that he kicks the ball far harder than he ought to have. His mate falls to the ground, clutching his family jewels, "Jesus.. fuck-.. CHRIST!" he's startled, he didn't mean to do that, "Fucking hell, mate, I'm sorry. Are you okay?" he rushes to help him up, gets the strongest glare he's ever gotten and his friend says through gritted teeth, "You're lucky I've had all the kids I wanted to because otherwise..." he leaves the threat hanging in the air, curses and grunts again, takes deep breaths as he tries not to cry. He's well aware how much a ball to the.. well.. to the balls.. hurts. Especially with how forcefully he kicked.. he didn't mean to hurt anyone, he wasn't even paying attention. His anger and frustration got the best of him and he's embarrassed about it. He looks apologetic as his friend finally straightens up, "You owe me big time for that shit.", he lifts his hands "Mate, anything you ask. Consider it done." he watches his friend limp off as he gathers his gear, he's surveying the surroundings to see if anyone saw that happening. His eyes then land of her. The reason why he just nearly killed a man on an open field. She was watching them. Her hand is covering her face. He realises, with giddiness, that she's trying not to laugh. 'Oh.. so you thought that was funny, hm? Well...' he smirks at her and she doesn't look away, her face turns pinker and pinker the harder she tries not to laugh. His eyes don't leave her face, he keeps smirking pleased with himself that he managed to amuse her. Follows everyone else as they walk out and before he disappears inside he turns back to look at her, she's openly laughing now that everyone is gone, and he can't help himself "Not very polite of you to laugh at someone else's misfortune, is it? That hurts, you know?" and she nods at him, quieting her laugh, "I'm sure it does but.. his face was too funny, I'm sorry." he feels his chest growing even bigger, stands up to full height as she gets closer, "Well.. I'm glad I could amuse you, even if at the cost of someone's jewels.." and he dares to wink at her, watches her face turn pink and she laughs again, walks inside feeling like he owns the world in that moment.

She's so warm. And slick. And it feels so good. She's melting all over the mattress, twisting the sheets in her hands, moaning and whining softly. Her hips feel so solid, so pliable, under his hands. He's the only reason why they're still standing up, her whole body is limp now. He feels her thighs shaking from time to time against his own, feels her trembling as he slows down, down, down. Drags in and out of her, making her whine louder, shiver and shake. They're both covered in a layer of sweat, there's slickness down her thighs and he sees the glinting when he looks down between them. He smirks and leans forward, starts kissing a path up her back, all the way to her shoulder. Digs his teeth into the soft flesh and laughs a teasing, soft laugh when she whines and says his name. "What is it, baby? What's wrong?" he asks, full of playfulness, he knows exactly what's wrong but he wants to hear her say it, wants her to beg for it, wants her to get desperate and whiny like she was before. Wants to drive her crazy, as crazy as she drives him, wants her at the brink of madness and need for him. Because he's at the brink for her. Wants to bite her and spell out his name against her skin, wants to tattoo it on her back even, just so he can see his name on her. He thinks their names would look amazing paired together. Her odd words break the spell, he shakes his head, "Excuse me?" and hears it, not in her voice now, but in a man's voice, "Are you listening to me?? What the fuck are you grinning about?? You think that was funny??" his friend's face is suddenly across from him again, he's no longer in that bedroom having the most bliss he can, "I-.." "You're not even listening to what I'm saying! What are you thinking about, mate?! You're constantly lost lately, the fuck is up with you?? I swear, this is getting out of hand.." he gets hit with a grape from an annoyed friend, the boys start talking amongst themselves again and he feels deeply embarrassed. He's a little hard, he was having a sex fantasy in the middle of lunch, surrounded by people and to his biggest shame.. he realises that she's been watching him the whole time.

He can't sleep. He just can't do it. Every time he closes his eyes, she's there. Moaning, whining, mewling, clawing at his skin, saying his name, clenching around him, driving him further and further insane. He just can't take it anymore. He huffs angrily, '02:03' is flashing on the clock and he doesn't care. He gets up, pulls on his joggers and a tshirt and just walks out. It's too cold to go outside like this but where he's going he doesn't need to be warm. He walks outside, the deepest, darkest sky greeting him. The wind is freezing and it wraps him in it's cold embrace immediately. His skin pebbles and he shivers, he let's his whole body sink in to the feeling of being cold as he walks down the steps slowly. Watches the stars glittering off against the deep ocean, hears the waves and feels finally at peace. He walks to that old familiar door, unlocks it and gets inside. It's warmer in here. It's meant to be warm in here, even without the steam turned on. He takes a seat at the furthest corner, where he normally sits when he's here to actually use the place, and allows his body to relax and slide down on the hard wood bench. He gets as comfortable as he possibly can against the wood, his legs curl in on their own, and he fixates on the ocean. The waves rolling slowly in and out, the wind whistling softly, the few stars in the sky looking like diamonds. He doesn't know what to do. He's plagued by visions of her. In all sorts of compromising positions. With him. His frustration, along with his desire, have grown heavier and heavier inside him. He refuses to break. He won't allow himself to do. That's probably why he's been getting increasingly more restless. It's a natural thing to do, something that he does quite a lot actually. But now? He finds that he can't. He doesn't want to disrespect her image. She hasn't consented to being used as fuel for his depraved fantasies while he strokes himself for relief and he's always been highly moralistic. He can't use her image in that way, no matter how badly he wants to. And it wouldn't feel the same. He knows what his hands feel like, it's not the feeling he's been chasing in his dreams, asleep and awake, every day now. He finds that the thoughts consume him the most when he's around her. He can smell her perfume even when she's a good distance from him, as if his own body has narrowed in on her and now won't let her go. She's growing more and more comfortable with him too. She still doesn't talk much, but she's getting closer and closer, stands and sits beside him now at times. Watches him intensely, as if she's trying to gauge what level of threat he might pose to her. Like an hesitant rabbit wondering if she should trust the hound. He wants to reassure her, to tell her she can trust the hound, but.. as his need and fantasies grow heavier, more depraved, more frequent.. he's not sure he can lie to her so blatantly.

He wakes up with a sore back. His left arm is asleep and his ankle is hurting so badly from being wedged against the hard wood that it makes him curse. He gets up, and winces. It must be incredibly early, there isn't a star in the sky and it's as dark as ever. He gets his phone out '04:55' it shows. He barely slept. But it was blissfully dreamless. Exactly what he needed. Maybe he should start sleeping on the floor, the pain might help him with the dreams. He limps a little as he walks away and back up the stairs, his body takes it's time to adjust and endure all the pain and tiredness 'You're not as young as you used to be, mate.. that was a bad idea..' he'll be painful and sore all day, and he'll have to pretend he's not. Which makes it worse. He's tired of pretending. He's been dealing with so much pain lately. Internal and external. It's getting unbearable to pretend he's okay and he's not human, it's all getting heavy again. He needs some relief but he doesn't know how to get it, so, he does the best he can to help himself. Takes a warm shower once he's back in his room, allows the water to run down his achy body, sits down and just let's the deep bone tired feeling he has sink in. The water soothes him and lulls him again, he's drowsy when he walks out and barely managed to towel off before he gives up and crawls back into bed, falling into a deep sleep. A black abyss. It's better than all the depravity he's been living with. But it's lonely. Painfully cold and uncomfortable. He's all alone. In an endless black room, the void engulfing everything. There's echoes all around him. Self doubt, insecurity, criticism. Insults and cruel words that have been directed at him all his life. Comparisons and impossible to meet standards. Loss, sorrow, pain. A devastating sadness consumes him, he's inside his body yet somehow watching himself crumble too. Trauma he's experienced, the loss of dearly loved ones, broken friendships and betrayals, broken toxic relationships.. he both feels himself break down and watches himself break down. Heavy, painful sobs erupting from his body. He shakes and feels years of hurt flow out of him after so many decades of burying them further and further down. He wakes up in a cold sweat, frantic, face wet with tears. The clock says '06:49' and he wants to keep crying. He doesn't know how he's going to face the day.

By shutting down as he always does. Except this time it doesn't work. Because, luck of all lucks, he's ill. A burning fever that makes him dizzy, he can't see straight, the coaches force him to go back and rest for the day even as he fights them and tells them he's fine, "You cannot, and you will not, 'deal with it'. Don't be ridiculous. Your body needs rest and it'll get it." he keeps arguing with them, he's here to do a job and he will, but he's too poorly, and for the first time someone else out-stubborns him. "You're being ridiculous! You can't be serious if you think you can work like this. Be quiet, I'm taking you back. End of conversation." she takes hold of his arm and drags him back out the doors. Like an angel sent to save him from himself. She scoffs and huffs, calls him foolish, as she leads him back to his room. Refuses to let him win as he tries to argue he'll be fine on his own once she delivers him, wants to help him into bed instead and he, almost embarrassed, tells her he can't handle laying in bed clothed. "So? Take it off then, I don't care. Just lay down." she turns her back and waits for him to drop his clothes and get in bed, he feels shy taking his clothes off with her in the room.. which is ridiculous after all the dreams he's had about her... but he can't help it. Feels vulnerable and weak, he's in pain and dizzy, the fever is burning him alive and it's hard to breath. He curls in on his side, wants to call his mother, for a moment feels like a little boy needing comfort. She sits down on his bed and brushes his hair back, smiles softly down at him, "I'll go get some painkillers and some medication. Don't move." and he nods slowly, feels his eyes watering as he watches her leave. 'I don't want to be alone.', keeps watching the clock, counting the seconds and minutes it takes her to come back, nearly cries when she opens the door again. "Here, I've got you something that will help." she gives them the meds, helps him drink the water, brushes his hair in such a tender way that he gets teary. "I have snacks too, you'll have to eat eventually." he just nods and looks at her with adoration, 'I love you' his illness-addled brain thinks in a mopey, mushy voice. He asks, like a scared boy, "Are you going to leave now?" and feels relief sink deep into his bones when she shakes her head, "No, I don't think you're in condition to be alone right now. I'll stay until you feel better. Or until you want me to leave." he nods and keeps looking at her. If he wasn't so affected by the fever, the nightmares still haunting him, he wouldn't have said it but he needs comfort. 'I don't want to be alone.', "Can you lay down?" and she's so sweet, an angel, smiles softly and lays down next to him. Holds his hands, caresses them, looks the most comfortable with him, so much more than with anyone else. "I won't leave you, you know? You can sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." for the first time in many years he breaks down. Hides his face and cries, she doesn't judge nor look weirded out, just holds him, pets his hair and says softly "You're okay, I won't leave. I'm right here, you know? You don't have to be alone." and his voice says, soft and small like a child's, "I don't want to be alone. I'm so lonely, I'm so tired of everything." he sees it in her eyes. She understands. Deeply. There's pain in her eyes, she's suffered too he realises. He wishes he knew how and why. He desperately wants to get to know her. To know her dreams, her hopes, her sorrow and her pain. Wants her to open up to him as achingly badly as he wants to open up to her. He knows that they'll understand each other, they just need to be given the chance. He recognises the same steel in her that he has in himself. A beautiful creature, hardened by sorrow and a troubled life. She sees him in that moment, unlike anyone has ever seen him, and just smiles. Her hand cups his face so tenderly that tears overflow from his eyes, he's never been touched so gently. "I'm here now, you don't ever have to be alone."

#and this is part 2..#don't ask what this was because i don't know #i just allowed the words to flow out and this wrote itself on its own #sometimes i feel the need to do that and so.. here you are #hopefully this will be interesting for someone?#adventures in a clown's dreams #football fanfic #football imagine

2 notes · View notes

umbral-stigmata-unbound · 11 days ago

Text

She wanted to dismiss his words, convince him to leave her be to her usual devices. As he had continued, she wanted to interrupt him and tell him, No, you don't get this and you never will, so leave me be.

But then every other word man his point clearer and clearer and she wasn't sure what to say. It...sadly made some sense. She had felt like she was doing the best she could, with what she had, but what if...? What if they were gone? What if their control was flawed and he dependency on what they provided came back to ruin them all? The imbalance was far more clearer now.

Now, she wouldn't be able to stomach it. She could now hate Kuja all over again for making it so clearer. She lowered her head, reaching a hand to rub at her head, near the jewel shard implanted there, but rubbing to ease her head.

Now, she would be left to figure out how to take back her control, and start figuring things out on her own.

"You...may be right. But there is still no clear path for me to take. Am I supposed to just wander, aimless?" she questioned, looking back at him. "How do you stay so separated? How do you connect to your power, to develop it? All I know is how they trained me, and how any time I try to connect on my own, I...either can't, or it consumes me..."

She ran her hand through her two-toned hair then, trying to think.

"I make it sound simply but I never said it was." Yet Kuja lets her explain, and talk, crossing his arms as she spoke. Blue eyes were unreadable, not giving away his own thoughts on the matter as she stated the things she wanted- the desire to be around the other tsviets, and the want to control.

A low sigh left him. "You clip them, whether you realize it or not. You gave them the control, unknowingly yet willingly. It is something that I am willing to take any punishment for, because that control is not theirs to take." He pointed out calmly, tail flicking back and forth with his words.

He understood the desire to avoid punishments, depsite his statements. Kuja hated the staff, ensured that they knew it. It didn't make it any less easy, to deal with it. But his stubbornness had him still holding on to argue against them at every turn.

"I'm saying that you cannot let them continue this control and expect to be able to control your own flames." He said, holding out both his hands, plams up and stared at her. "Allow me to put it this way. You are on an even field- they cannot control you and you cannot control yourself when you arrive. Your abilities are not all they can be. You train and beging to control those powers on your own." His right hand lifted, the other staying at the same beight. "You see the control they deemed themselves to lose by this? Your hand is higher."

He stopped, slowly lifting his left hand and dropping the right. "You have allowed them to control you, and constrict your freedoms. Your abilities are theirs to discover, and not your own. You fear the punishment that they can inflict on you." He pointedly glanced at his right hand as it sank closer to his knee with each word. But then, he lifted it very slightly. "You meditate, for control of yourself. That is just a small thing they cannot take for themselves. They cannot stop you and I from talking- suddenly, you have started to return the balance."

He hands fell to his lap as he shook his head. "They wish for you to be under them completely. For the left to outweigh the right at every turn, so you are simple a caged bird. That is the point I am making. I may not be on equal footing with many here, but they will not have a very strong upper hand, against me. I am the one who will discover how long I can float, how high, what levels of magic I can reach. Similar to the fire you have in you. That is yours, not theirs. If you give it them, allow them to be the ones to nuture it... If they all suddenly left, and abandone us all? Who can keep that spark safe? You don't know how to control it, and the ones who dare gone." He said simply. "That is the point I'm making. You need their help to control it, but that is all. They should not need to control us."

#soulsfractured #Kuja #The Golden Tsviet ~ Aurelia #V::BF #T::When the Fire Catches; main

12 notes · View notes

thepremedthatwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Insufferable

request: Hi lovely, can you do Peter pevensie x reader imagine, please? The reader meets Pevensies in Narnia, but from the beginning she and Peter can't get along together, lots of arguments, while secretly and slowly developing feelings towards each other they don't want to admit, lot of sexual tension before smth happens but eventually they'll end up together. you can include some smut stuff. Thanks xx

hi, so i was gone for a while sorry about that haha but now school is done for the year so i can focus on writing more also this is going to be a multi part story cause it’s enemies to lovers

part 2 | part 3

A soft breeze brushed my face as my eyes fluttered open. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I turned to where my bedroom window should have been. Instead, a large bookshelf filled with a myriad of leather bound books was there. The confusion grew as I took in my surroundings. Where my nightstand should have stood was a trunk. My dark blue comforter was now a deep maroon. My sheets felt softer than they ever were. As I ran a hand over them, I realized they were silk.

“You’re up,” a voice said. I jumped, my head snapping in the direction where the voice came from. A tall, blond man sat in an armchair across the room. “Lucy found you laying in the meadows. I carried you here. I should fetch you a maid. You look like a mess.” He spoke quickly, not giving me any time to interject until he was finished.

“Where am I?” I asked, choosing to ignore the man’s last comments about me.

“Narnia,” the man said. He stepped closer to me and as he approached, the light from the lantern on the nightstand illuminated him. On top of his head sat a golden crown decorated with jewels. He had good bone structure, his jawline strong and sharp. His sparkling blue eyes studied me.

“I’m being serious,” I said, crossing my arms. I wasn’t wearing a bra and the shirt I was wearing did not offer much coverage concerning my breasts. The man pulled his full lips into a smirk.

“And so am I.” I took a deep breath, not wanting to start a fight with the man who seemed to have some power if his crown was any indication.

“Please just tell me where I am. I have a very important presentation for school tomorrow and I cannot be wasting time sitting here.”

“You’re from Earth, aren’t you,” he said, the smirk still on his face as he sat down on the bed.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I am.”

“I hate to break it to you, darling, but you aren’t on Earth anymore.”

“I seriously don’t have time for this. If you don’t tell me where I am, I’ll have to call the police.” I started searching for my cell phone which had been tossed somewhere onto my bed before I fell asleep. My hands moved the sheets around, my eyes frantically looking for the familiar rectangular shape of my phone.

“I already told you where you are,” the man said, laughing at me. “You are in Narnia.”

I let out a huff as I gave up my fruitless search. “Alright fine, whatever. I’m in Narnia. How do I get back to Earth?”

“How would I know?” I wanted to bury my face into the pillow and scream. Was he being serious?

“If you won’t be of any help, you can leave.”

“I’m afraid not, darling. You see, I’m the high king here which means I have to make sure you aren’t a threat to my nation.” I let out an incredulous laugh.

“Who let you be king?”

“High king, actually.”

“King, high king, whatever. You most certainly aren’t acting like any sound ruler right now.”

“Would you prefer I tied you up and interrogated you?” I bit back my response. I wasn’t sure if he would actually do that if I weren’t careful enough.

“Okay fine. What must you know in order to determine that I am not a threat to your precious nation?”

“Well first, you could be a bit more respectful. You are talking to the high king after all. Second, tell me your name.”

“I was told not to tell my name to strangers.”

“I’m hurt, don’t you trust me?” The man feigned a look of betrayal as I stayed silent, narrowing my (e/c) eyes at him. “Okay fine, I’ll go first. My name is High King Peter the Magnificent, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of the Lone Islands.”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“Now that you know my name, will you tell me yours?”

“Okay, fine,” I sighed. “My name is (y/n). Happy now?” King Peter smiled, nodding his head slowly.

“Very good, (y/n). My second question is how did you find your way to Narnia?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, my voice softer as I tried to rack my brain for any memory of how I could’ve ended up here. “All I remember is falling asleep in my bed and then waking up here.”

“Interesting,” the king said, almost more to himself than to me. “Well, I’m not sure how you got here or how we can get you back but I’m sure Aslan would know.”

“Who’s Aslan?” I questioned. King Peter looked at me, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Perhaps I’ll have Lucy explain that to you.”

“Who is Lucy?”

“My sister. You’ll meet her tomorrow along with all the others. But now, you should sleep. It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow (y/n).” He walked over to the large mahogany doors.

“Good night, Your Majesty. It was a pleasure talking with you.”

“You should drop that sarcastic tone if you want to survive here,” King Peter said as he started to open the door.

“Is that a threat?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“Only if you want it to be.” And with that, he left the room, closing the door behind him. I buried myself deep into the covers, squeezing my eyes closed. Maybe when I woke up, I’d be back in my bedroom. That’s what I hoped. Instead, I tossed and turned in the sheets. Although they were of the softest material imaginable, I couldn’t fall asleep. I let out a sigh, admitting defeat before getting out of the bed. I looked around the room, spotting a wardrobe in the corner. I pulled open the door to see a white robe, along with a few other articles of clothing. I grabbed the robe, wrapping it around my body before opening the door.

The door opened to a hallway, torches lighting the way. The cool stone pressing against my feet as I walked along the corridor. Every now and then I would pass a few doors. All of them were always tightly shut. I wasn’t sure where I was going and I was definitely not sure of how to get back to the room I had been in before. That didn’t matter to me. I just needed to clear my head. The hallways I was walking in seemed to be reaching an end, two large wooden doors waiting for me. The right one was slightly ajar, candlelight spilling from behind it.

I crept towards the doors. I peeped in to see shelves upon shelves of books. I felt my mouth fall slightly open as I cautiously walked into the room. The shelves reached up to the tall ceiling. In the middle of the ceiling was a large glass dome where the full moon was visible. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice said. I tore my eyes from the moon to see a man sitting in an armchair near a fireplace, a brown book in his hand.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you,” I said quickly. An amused smile formed on his face.

“Don’t be. You must be the girl Lucy found in the meadows.”

“Apparently I am,” I said while slowly walking towards the man. “May I?” I asked, motioning to the empty seat across from him.

“Of course.” I quickly sat down, fidgeting with my hands.

“Am I truly in Narnia?” I asked.

“Trust me, if Peter was lying you would know. He is a horrible liar.” I couldn’t help but smile.

“I just never heard of Narnia before.”

“Most people from Earth haven’t.”

“I feel like I should do my research on the place. I don’t want to offend anyone.” As soon as the words left my mouth, my mind immediately flashed to my interaction with Peter. “Well, not offend anyone else, I mean.”

“I’m guessing Peter wasn’t the most welcoming.”

“I don’t know. There was just something about the way he talked to me that was infuriating. It was like he was amused by me. I couldn’t stand it.”

“Well, I apologize for my brother’s actions.”

“You’re his brother?” The man nodded. “Does that mean you’re a king too?” He nodded again. Great, I’ve met two royals and both meetings had been in my pajamas.

“King Edmund, that’s me.”

“Why isn’t your title long like your brothers?”

“Oh it is, I just don’t like stroking myself.” I let out a chuckle, King Edmund joining in. “You’ll get to meet Susan and Lucy tomorrow morning at breakfast.”

“Oh, I’m invited to dine with the royals?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Only if you choose to grace us with your presence.” I felt my lips tug into a smile.

“Of course, I couldn’t disappoint the kings and queens of Narnia.”

“How generous,” King Edmund replied, a matching smile on his face. “We should head to bed now. You don’t want to be sleeping at the dining table tomorrow.”

“Yes, we should,” I said, exhaustion finally hitting me as I got up.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I can show you, I have a feeling I know which room Peter put you in.” He got up from his seat, walking towards the doors with his book still in his hands. I quickly followed as he opened the door, holding it open for me. We walked down hallways that seemed somewhat familiar to me.

“How do you remember where to go?” I asked as we walked.

“I don’t. I just walk and hope I go to the right place.” I let out a soft laugh as we passed a door where guards stood. “I would use the guards as reference,” he continued, motioning towards the standing guards, “but they all look the same with that ridiculous face.” He mimicked the face of the guards, eyebrows furrowed, nose flared, and mouth twisted into a frown as they stayed focused on protecting whatever was in their room. “They look constipated all the time.” I let out another laugh, louder than the other. I immediately covered my mouth, hoping the noise didn’t disturb anyone. Edmund laughed at this, the sound of the door opening cutting him off.

King Peter stood in the doorway, sleep still clouding his eyes. “What are you doing, Ed?” he asked, before his eyes landed on me. “You both should be asleep.” His voice was sterner than before as his cold blue eyes focused on me.

“Don’t worry Pete. I was showing her back to her room, that’s all.”

“You two shouldn’t be alone together, lest someone believes you two to be partaking in a scandal.” My face warmed at his accusation.

“I’m sure my reputation isn’t going to be ruined by being seen with King Edmund,” I said.

“I wasn’t talking about you. Ed, you are a king. You shouldn’t be seen with any girl, especially a peasant.”

“I’m not a peasant.”

“Well, you certainly aren’t royalty.”

“So that makes me less than?’

“Technically, yes.”

“Well being royal doesn’t make you any more pleasant!”

“You should be thankful I’m letting you stay here. Unless you want to live on the streets.”

“At least the streets don’t have you.” I made my eyes meet his. My face felt like it was on fire as I narrowed my eyes. His jaw was clenched as his eyes stared down at me.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Edmund softly said, his hand wrapped around my arm. “And you, go to bed,” he added, looking at King Peter.

“Good night,” King Peter said roughly.

“Good night, your majesty,” I replied before mockingly curtseying. He turned around, slamming the door behind him.

Edmund and I walked on in silence for a moment. “Well that went nicely,” Edmund finally said as we neared a door.

“He truly is insufferable. Did you hear what he said? Calling me a peasant like I was worth nothing. The audacity!”

Edmund only nodded, a small smile on his face. “You should go to sleep before you get yourself kicked out by Pete.”

I let out a huff. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior tomorrow,” I promised as I opened the door. I was surprised to see it was the same room I had woken up in. “How did you know which room to take me to?”

“This is the room Peter has his most important guest stay in,” Edmund said, the smile still on his face.

#peter pevensie #high king peter #high king peter the magnificent #King Peter the Magnificent #peter pevensie fanfic #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie smut #peter pevensie x reader #peter x reader #Peter x Y/N #narnia #The Chronicles of Narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia imagine #narnia smut

537 notes · View notes

sylverstorms · 4 years ago

Text

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.10

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9

The day shift gives you ample time and opportunities to walk around the castle. Within a week, you come to know every chamber and pathway you hadn’t previously crossed, intimately.

At first, you pictured making your escape through a weak point in its fortification. The walls are ancient; You would have bet money on one of its parts having given out in the passing of centuries and gone unnoticed. Now, you know such a thing doesn’t exist. It doesn’t really surprise you that Alcina has made sure the exterior is in the same excellent condition as the interior.

But it is a problem.

The walls are too big for you to scale. If there are any stepping points, you can’t see them from within. You tried over and over to at least peak out into the back yard, but the shrieks and growls of monsters had you immediately changing course.

You don’t know what those things are and you’re not eager to find out. According to the older maids, there are more of them deep in the dungeons. It is only a rumor, of course, since nobody has ventured down there and returned to tell the tale.

Which, taking the window bars into account… leaves only one way out.

The front door.

You are aware that Lady Dimitrescu and the daughters all have a key on them. You know from Cassandra those are the only copies. Nothing enters or leaves unless one of them allows it.

There is not a snowflake’s chance in hell you’re getting Alcina’s key. She will murder you on sight. Bela won’t do anything to disappoint her mother, so that rules her out, as well. Daniela is the one most likely to misplace it or be persuaded to give it to you, but the girl is as unpredictable as she is sly and you won’t risk your wellbeing for a distant chance.

That means…

Cassandra is the only way out, isn’t she…

You lay low and await an afternoon where the cold is downright bone-piercing. As warm as the castle is, with fireplaces burning everywhere, you can still feel the stinging kiss of the outside frost every time you so much as go near a window.

And it all comes full circle right back to the start; You in front of Cassandra’s bedroom door, trembling with anxiety like the very first time. It is oddly fitting, in a way, that the story of the two of you ends where it began.

For a moment, you almost marvel at how long ago it feels, now. But there is no time nor space in your heart for sentimentality anymore. You stand at the point of no return.

And you cross it as soon as you turn the handle.

Cassandra’s bedroom is softly illuminated by the dying embers of the fireplace. You walk forward cautiously, slowly, almost as if you’re expecting a landmine to go off at a single misstep. Except –well. A mine would be far more merciful. Just an explosion and then nothing. If Cassandra wakes…

You try not to think about it, lest your muscles lock in place.

Underneath the heavy covers of the bed, you see her, cocooned, pale fingers clutching tight at the blankets. It is too early for her to wake. She is deeply asleep, you tell yourself, simultaneously praying she doesn’t open her eyes.

You make it to her vanity, soundless. Her amber-jeweled choker and the necklace she and her sisters wear are neatly arranged, yet the key you’re looking for isn’t with them.

Shit. You inwardly curse, your hand shaking from the nerves. It means she’s put it in the drawer of her bedside table. It means you have to go next to her, to literally put your fingers in the sleeping wolf’s parted jaws and hope they don’t clamp down.

Easy, right?

An unsteady exhale later, you move further in and carefully kneel by the small furniture. Keep your eyes on the prize. Keep—

But you make the mistake of looking to the side.

Cassandra’s expression is not relaxed in sleep like how you remember it from the time when you would wake her up. Instead, her brow is furrowed, the line of her mouth pressed thin. She’s shivering, you realize, either from the cold or a nightmare or both. Shadows dance across her beautiful face.

Your first instinct is still to reach over and soothe her. You hate it, but you’ve accepted you won’t be over whatever it is you feel for her in quite some time.

It is not your place anymore to touch her, you remind yourself. You cannot ease her through her fears now that she has become your own.

With a clenched jaw, you force your body through the motions of opening the drawer and taking the key within.

At last. Your freedom is in your grasp.

And yet.

Shouldn’t you be happier about it?

Cassandra’s voice nearly knocks the air out of your lungs when it reaches your ears, faint. “No… please…”

You forget how to breathe for a couple of seconds. When your wide eyes shift to her, though, you realize she’s merely talking in her sleep.

Leave. Leave while you can.

But your chest constricts when you hear her sob. “…don’t leave me here… please…”

And out of all the possible things she could say, she utters those words and smashes your glass heart with a sledgehammer into a trillion pieces. The shards cut into you and it hurts—

You pause at the door. The corners of your vision have started to blur.

And then the world snaps, sharply, back into focus when her tone changes;

“…Alexia…?”

Your eyes lock, hazel to amber-grey, for a split second.

You run.

You don’t think you have ever ran this fast in your entire life. But it’s different now that it is about your life.

Adrenaline rushes throughout your bloodstream. You’re not thinking, just acting. Just fleeing.

Death, in the form of a black swarm, closes in on you with every rapid heartbeat. Cassandra is faster –she can fly and you’re only human—and at this rate you won’t even escape the corridor, much less the castle.

Flies break ahead of the rest and attach themselves to you. The sting of their bite at your nape and arms nearly has you howling in agony. She meant it when she said she would kill you herself. Not that you doubted it. Not for a second.

Because if Cassandra can’t have you, she will make sure nobody will.

You didn’t want to hurt her back the first time, but the stakes are too high now. You grab the nearest solid antiquity in your panic and throw it with all your might against the nearest window.

Glass shatters and the temperature plummets with it. Over your shoulder, you hear her scream. More out of rage than pain.

The flies biting at you drop to the floor, grey and paralyzed. You hear her shout pierce through your eardrums like a gunshot as you dash towards the turn—

“You won’t ever get to that door, Alexia!”

From the corner of your eye, you notice a blur coming towards you and instinctively drop down. A heavy thump later, your frantic eyes fly to the wall to see her sickle embedded halfway through a painting. If you hadn’t reacted in time, that would have been you.

Still, she can’t cross the hallway now, so you scramble to your feet and run while she takes the long way around. Question is, will you make it to the front door before she does?

It becomes a race where the winner takes all.

You practically jump down entire sets of stairs in your struggle for survival and you have no clue how you do it. You just know you can’t slow down for even a second.

The castle feels ten times as large as it actually is. By the time you descend the last staircase and the sound of buzzing insects grows in volume, the entrance is within sight.

You reach for another decoration and smash another window. Cassandra slows down, forced to materialize out of the swarm before she can’t will her body back together at all.

You shove the key into the lock and turn it.

Cassandra fights through the rush of frozen air, taking step after weighted step towards you—

“I won’t…let you leave here…alive.” she hisses, her teeth bared at you, skin growing too pale yet eyes blazing.

“I’m done being your prisoner.” you say back, voice hoarse and raw…

And you open the door. Steps taken backwards carry you away from her faster than she can make it to you. You can see her pain and her frustration, but they cannot compare to your own.

Your wounds ache from the frost.

Cassandra seems just about ready to leap at you even if it will certainly mean something very bad for her—

Until a black blur shoves her a dozen meters back. Bela’s back stands between you and Cassandra’s cracking form. Daniela soon lands off to the side, looking between the two of them.

“Get out of the way, Bela!” Cassandra snaps.

“It’s over.” Bela replies, a grave finality to her voice.

Your breaths are coming out in harsh puffs of smoke. You still have trouble believing that you did it. That they can’t follow anymore. You did it.

“Nothing’s over!” Cassandra snarls and lunges for her elder sister.

The blonde, deadly calm, grabs her by the neck in a choke-hold and drags her closer to the nearly-extinguished warmth of the fireplace. The way Cassandra thrashes in her arms is downright heartbreaking.

Daniela looks at you, almost saddened, then back at her sisters.

“Shh. Calm down, Cassandra. Let go. Mother will be here soon. Don’t let her see you like this.” Bela says. “If you’ve any parting words to say to Alexia, say them now.”

You’re shivering. The cold nips through every layer of clothes you’re wearing to bite straight at your flushed skin. But you don’t move further away. You wait. Why am I even waiting, though?

Realization slowly sinks in, you can tell from Cassandra’s expression. Beyond the wounded pride of the apex predator losing a fight to a rabbit… she understands that she will never see you again.

Bela releases her and steps away, adjacent to Daniela.

“You’ve earned your freedom, Alexia.” Bela speaks under her hood. “Nobody’s ever managed to escape, before. Respect.” In another life, maybe her and you could have been friends. Maybe.

“So you’re really… leaving?” Daniela’s lower lip is slightly jutted into a little pout. “I… who will I use to get on Cassandra’s nerves, now?”

“I’d say it’s been nice, but.” you speak up between pants, birthing forth puffs of smoke. “I was taken from my home and sent here as a slave, so.” You can’t help the bitter grimace.

Cassandra’s chest is heaving, yet she isn’t looking at you. It doesn’t look like she has anything to say to you, either. But you have words for her, because you need to get this out at last, you need to be free of this weight or you will never really have escaped this nightmare.

“Even as your captive, you know what I fucking thought? You three can be so beautiful when you toy with the idea of basic human empathy. I don’t know what you saw our time as, Cassandra, but I was genuinely attracted to you. I wanted to be together with you. At some point, I was even happy!”

You’ve inhaled so much icy air your lungs probably won’t be doing great for very much longer but God, this is so cathartic. And so enraging that she’s not meeting your eyes now, at the very end of it all.

“Look at me! I care for you, deeply, but I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to live in a cage as a pretty sacrifice, with you as my jailer. I can’t. You don’t know how psychologically destructive it is. You don’t know what it feels like!” you end with a hitched shout.

You hear the ominous sound of heavy heels hurriedly descending the staircase. “By Miranda! What is going on— Cassandra?!”

All three daughters freeze up for a moment.

Then Daniela touches her head as though she’s having a migraine and Bela shuts her eyes tightly, shoulders tensed. And Cassandra… drops on her knees to the floor, gasping for oxygen, clutching at her temples.

Bela shakes her head to snap out of it. Daniela still looks dazed and afraid… but Cassandra is nearly crying—

And then, in her panic attack, she whispers; “Don’t abandon me like they did, Alexia.”

You don’t know who she means or what you’re doing, until you’ve dashed back inside and gathered her chilled form into your arms, tight. You keep her there like you wish someone had held you during your storms. It doesn’t matter that you’re so much weaker than Cassandra, when what haunts her is too powerful even for her to face.

Alcina extends her claws as she advances on you.

You could probably still get away if you make a run for it, but where will you even go, when your heart is right here with the woman in your arms? The world beyond the village died for you a long time ago. The village died in a literal sense.

You wanted to be free. But freedom and being with her aren’t mutually exclusive. Why did it take me this long to figure it out…?

Alcina is too close now. You turn to kiss Cassandra’s hair for what may be the last time. You do not let go.

Bela and Daniela step in front of you.

Alcina gives them a warning, narrowed look.

“Uh— you know what, I just stepped forward because I saw Bela move. Haha, nevermind.” The redhead retreats once more. Maybe you’d roll your eyes at her if you weren’t bracing for your execution.

“Bela… step aside.” Lady Dimitrescu’s tone leaves no room for disobedience.

The eldest daughter lowers her head and hesitantly opens the path, as well.

Alcina casts a deep shadow over you in her massive height and giant claws. You lock eyes with her briefly, with the last, flickering cinders of your courage. Then you shift your face down into Cassandra’s shoulder and prepare to be skewered through. Her fingers clutch you almost painfully close to her.

“As for you…” there’s a growl in Alcina’s voice that makes you cower in terror.

Except...

The horrible pain you expected takes a little too long to come.

“…you have backbone, little human, I will admit.” Is that… is that a smirk you hear in her tone? “And my daughters do seem to want you around…”

…What?

Cassandra slowly pulls away from you to look up at her in disbelief and you dare to open your eyes. The claws are still uncomfortably close to your face.

“I will take responsibility for the damage, mother. Just, please, let her stay with me.” Cassandra says.

“…Hm. Very well. I expect the windows repaired by dinner.” Alcina gracefully pivots and just like that, takes her leave.

You and the sisters are left there, unbreathing, unmoving, wondering what just happened.

“Too cold. See you at dinner.” Daniela is the first to speak up. She rapidly waves and disappears like she’s being hunted by an army.

Bela glances at you, then at her middle sister. “We need to talk. But later. For now, defrost.” She, too, disperses in a swarm of flies.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically vulnerable, looks into your eyes and brings a crystalline hand to your cheek. The soft way she does it, it may as well be the apology she is too proud to voice. You both lean towards each other, resting your foreheads together.

You have a lot to talk about. But there is time.

#cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x oc #resident evil village #fanfiction #writing #we're almost at the end of this guys #thank you for all your sweet support #hope group therapy won't be needed

435 notes · View notes

yourheartonfire · 4 years ago

Text

The protagonist was grimly determined not to kneel, and briefly they succeeded. When the guards dragged them to the command tent and shoved them down, the protagonist hit their knees and kept going, landing face first on the carpets spread over the muddy ground. It felt kind of nice, to rest their aching head a few seconds on something soft.

Above them there was silence, and then a heavy sigh. "When I said, 'patch them up and then bring them to me,'" said the oh-so-familiar tones of their old playmate, "I thought it was clear that the 'then' in that sentence meant when they were no longer dying."

"The, ah, prisoner is weak from loss of blood and general trauma," said a medic nervously from somewhere near the tent's door. "But their wounds have been tended and they are stable, your highness."

"Your highness?" the protagonist mumbled into the carpet threads. "Coming up the world, huh?"

The medic cleared their throat again. "They're also on a great deal of painkillers. But they will live to see tomorrow."

"That remains to be seen," said that exquisitely cold voice and an ugly laugh ran through the tent.

There must have been a signal because hands gripped the protagonist's bound arms, hauling them up to their knees before their old friend.

The antagonist was a black hole in the center of the protagonist's spinning vision. They lounged across their seat, wineglass dangling from their fingers, in a way that made the simple camp chair look luxurious. They were flanked by some very angry looking generals, nobles, the normal assortment of court flunkies. The protagonist saw a few familiar faces, but no friends. Not in this tent.

"[Protagonist]," the antagonist said with that too-calm, too-bland court voice that boded violence for someone later. "You are under arrest for high treason. You will be brought before my father, the Emperor himself, for judgement. I don't expect it to go well for you. Have you anything to say for yourself?"

The protagonist bared their teeth in a bloody smile for the room, ignoring the twinge of pain from their split lip. "It's a long journey from here to the capital."

The antagonist conceded the point with a tip of their glass. "I am considering breaking both your legs."

"Wow, you are really leaning into the whole dark lord aesthetic," the protagonist drawled, fighting to form the words. God they were tired. And it wasn't just the morphine. "Is that red wine? You hate red wine."

The antagonist gave them a too-tight smile. "If you don't like it," they said, each syllable crisp and sharp enough to cut steel, "perhaps you shouldn't have had the prior occupant of my position killed."

There were any number of responses to that. The costs of war. People that the protagonist had lost too to far worse fates. But the former crown prince had been a fixture of the protagonist's childhood too. For once, the protagonist bit back their snappy response.

The antagonist's eyes narrowed. They put down their glass and stood.

The guards' grip tightened as the antagonist approached. The protagonist braced for the strike; a punch, a kick, maybe even a knife to the gut. But the antagonist did something worse; threading those fingers heavy with rings, through the protagonist's roughly cropped hair. The protagonist bit the inside of their cheek, hard, to resist leaning into that caress. But they couldn't help the shudder that went through them as the antagonist's touch lingered on the swollen, tender bruise at the protagonist's temple.

"Oh darling," the antagonist said softly. "All this chaos and death, just to scratch this rebellious itch of yours. Was it worth it?" The protagonist tried to jerk away but the antagonist tightened their grip, forcing the protagonist's head back to face them. "All this blood just to wind up back where you belong. On your knees in front of me. "

The protagonist swallowed, feeling their throat bob against the antagonist's hand. They could see it in the antagonist's bleak gaze; the old mute plea under the regal bluster, asking the protagonist for a laugh, for a lie, for the love and attention everyone else was too busy to give the second royal child.

It would be so very easy to step back into that old role. Give them what they wanted. The apology. The repentance. But there was a limit to the protagonist's sympathy.

The protagonist raised their chin higher. "Why do you care? You've got the prize, the crown, the throne." They lowered their voice, going for straight for the heart. "Don't you like having everything you've ever want-?"

The antagonist's hand, heavy with jewels and gold, whipped out with a crack. Everything went black and twinkling for a second. The protagonist came back to themselves hanging in the guards' grip, their cheek a livid, wet wound.

"Very well. Let's do this properly," came the antagonist's voice from overhead. "Clean that up, sedate them..." The antagonist's hand stroked across the protagonist's newly aching face. They flinched. "And put them in my tent. We'll continue this conversation in private, darling."

There was another ugly laugh from the room as the guards hauled the protagonist away. The protagonist didn't bother trying to get their legs under them. They had to conserve their strength if they were going to escape.

The antagonist wasn't a kid anymore. But then again, neither was the protagonist.

#my fiction #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #hero and villain #fantasy #rebel hero x royal villain #royalty #whump #100 #300

452 notes · View notes

geesenoises · 2 years ago

Text

i was tagged in a different (shorter) version of this awhile ago and i had it all answered and then accidentally backed out of it just as i was about to post 🙃 so this time i did it in google docs. thank you @saintgarbanzo for tagging me! deepest apologies to everyone for how long this is. i tend to go on.

relationship status single, but also i take my marriage to @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm very seriously.

favorite food dim sum. shrimp rice rolls drowned in sweet dim sum soy sauce foreverrrrr.

favorite color green, pink. i think i’m really just a very saturated color person. neons. jewel tones. love them.

song stuck in your head for reasons unknown - the killers. they bring fans up on stage to play the drums with them when they play it on tour and i watched so many of them last night. my favorites are kyle, from their scotland show (which @wolfpants will probably appreciate) and katie from manchester (brandon calls her casey, but there was a fairly credible article that identified her). but there are so many and you should look them all up!! i clap and cheer at the end of every single one.

last thing you googled "how much is a steinway” i cannot play piano, nor do i want one. i just couldn’t remember if they’re in the $50k or $100k range (probably could get an old used one for $50k if you looked, but starting around $70k depending on model. and the sky’s the limit.)

time 8:13pm

dream trip a trip that literally will only exist in my dreams is one i was supposed to take before the panini ruined everything. visiting my brother in japan. i would stop in singapore for a week first, and then go visit him and we’d maybe go on a road trip together. he’s moving back here in the spring, so it can’t happen, but i did get to see him and take a mini american road trip so thats okay. other places: italy, hong kong, taiwan, various american roadtrips, a house in the country or next to lake with all the people i love most in the world.

last book you read uhhhh this is very embarrassing. i have not read a complete book in the longest time. but the last book i started is george saunder’s A Swim in a Pond in the Rain

last book you enjoyed i was enjoying the saunders book. brain just does not cooperate.

last book you hated reading i’d have to have read something to hate it

favorite thing to cook/bake either things that are low effort, high reward (my favorite brownie recipe), or things that are high effort to make, which makes it very expensive to buy or source, so i must supply it for myself. the pinnacle of this for me are canneles. my favorite pastry ever, especially fresh. i think i will go make myself some chocolate cake now tho.

favorite craft to do i’ve been very into knitting since i started last year. so far i’ve completed: a scarf for myself, a hat and scarf for my friends’ toddler, a shawl for my mom, a hat for me. working on: a shawl for me, a sweater for me, a cowl for a friend.

most niche dislikes the phrase “have a good one” feels too vague for me. though i’ve mellowed on it somewhat over the years. i hate bell peppers. i think they ruin anything they’re in. traffic lights on roads where the speed limit is 40+ mph. (which is like in many places in the US, but god, it’s horrible trying to stop in the right time/place for the red at that speed without slamming the brakes.)

opinion on circuses i don’t know enough about present day circuses to have an opinion, tbh. might have to go change the “last thing you googled” answer shortly.

Do you have a sense of direction and if not what’s the worst way you’ve gotten lost? i think i do! i don’t think i’ve ever gotten lost real bad, but i’ve been unable to find something and had to wander. i was in shanghai for an overnight layover and made the mistake of leaving the airport without getting cash. you couldn’t buy metro tickets without cash and we needed to get to our hotel. it was about 9pm. i wandered around the airport train station looking for an atm google maps was telling me was nearby while my dad waited with our luggage. couldn’t find it. had to find the nearest bank. jammed my card in the wrong slot and almost lost it inside the machine. a pair of nail clippers in my backpack saved me. i managed to use them like tweezers to pull the card out. finally got money. but on top of that, uh, let’s say the airplane food was not agreeing with me. so. it was a difficult hour for me. i never travel without nail clippers now.

last show you watched gamechanger, a game show where the game changes every time. it’s on dropout.tv and you should look up clips on youtube if you need a laugh.

currently watching nothing, but probably the sandman is next on my list.

currently reading nothing omg. i’m even between fics.

current obsessions welcome to mountport. eva noblezada. my backyard stray cat. finishing my ex-wireless fic. trying to figure out the ideal shampoo/conditioner situation for my head. this drarry fic that's a wip. every thing i talked about above. you know, normal things.

i'm just tagging people for attention. let's be transparent about this. do it if you feel like it!! @makeitp1nk @phoebe-delia @basicallyahedgehog @sorrybutblog @m0srael @cavendishbutterfly @corvuscrowned (who i know is away but 🤷🏻‍♀️)

#tag game #listen it's 9:40 as a i hit post on this #it did take me a long time to write #but also i watched every video i linked to lmao

12 notes · View notes

muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

Note

prompt 1 with older brothers best friends!harry 👀

1. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

8. “I said stop staring at me.”

23. “I have a name and it’s not sweetheart.”

Third wheeling could never be fun. Not when you’re basically not even a wheel but an invisible person on a vacation watching couples kiss and yada yada.

“For fuck's sake.” Y/N grumbles changing a side snatching the blanket that got stuck under her and sandwiches her face into a pillow when she hears the steel roof atop her creak furiously accompanied by high pitched obnoxious moans.

Y/N's brother brought her along to their Italy trip, his wife’s bestfriend and his own bestfriend tagged along too leaving only Y/N to grump about their wild sex rendezvous.

She’s sleepless, homesick and probably about to get a stomach bug for living in yacht for four days atleast!

What’s so fun about jiggling in your sleep? None perhaps and the waves crashing at night that threatens you to swallow you down to the pit of ocean --- my pal, nothing is entertaining about it. Atleast for Y/N. She’s more of a hill station going person with her pup Frankenstein that oogles out from his small globe like window, comfy in his lil bag that Y/N moves around on her shoulders everywhere.

When the fracas of whatever’s taking place up doesn’t comes to halt, Y/N had enough, she isn’t very versed in coping with such situations since her dorm-mate is very nice.

So, she’s throwing the lid away to pop her head through the square like space and spreads her elbows up the roof, “Aish.” She immediately covers her eyes upon the sight of his brother and his wife doing it.

Their expressions comically panicked as they embarrassingly scrambles to clutch the flimsy sheets over them.

“Who does it all naked under an open sky?” She squeaks out, feeling her pulse tick and she peeks out towards the darkness from the slight gap of her fingers which are barely helping her avoid the scene that’d haunt her for life.

“Them bunnies and monkeys, ‘n many of our kind, Sweetheart.” She rolls her eyes at the familiarity of deep slow rumble that’s a bit slurred, probably from the Tequila they took with them. The voice never fails to froth bubbles in Y/N's tummy and it always involuntarily makes her nails dig into her palms.

Harry and Tina’s bestfriend went out to roam around Italy, or they told so and Albeit Y/N very well knows their intentions were more to exploring the city she didn’t butt in.

“I’ve a name and it’s not, Sweetheart.” She dismisses him with a grumble and his smirk shines through the shadow aggravating Y/N to an extreme she slips down shutting the door (like lid) at the them.

Harry Styles. Y/N's brother’s bestfriend. He’s everything Y/N loathes about. Bright green eyes, silken features and that dopey pearlish smile that makes everyone fall in love with him in nano-seconds.

To Y/N. He is an incubus. A witch that allures people without even knowing.

He’s a narcissistic asshole and Y/N's bad boy dream, unfortunately.

She hates herself for having a puppy crush on him for years now.

That friggin, Asshole.

He’s with everyone but her. It seems as if he’s getting stung by bees upon the mere closeness between them. A lamb ready to bite her down his stomach if she steps a foot near him.

At the moment when she’s sitting with her knees pressed to her chest, swollen eyes and puffy lips from not getting sleep last night.

She’s really hating that Harry looks so hot from the swim he just took as he dries himself sitting opposite to her. The droplets twinkling on his tanned thick body, his trunks wrinkled and bunched up into his thighs baring the tiger tattoo on front, his hair wet and oh so fucking tug-able – Y/N feels like Rachel from friends thinking all of that.

“Stop staring,” She mutters out loud when he wouldn’t stop licking the saltiness from his pink bottom lip keeping his intense gaze on her.

“What did y'say?” He pretends that we too engulfed in something else.

“I said stop staring at me.” Y/N grits. It’s annoying because it’s making her belly feel funny and loopy.

“The hills behind y'are just s'admirable.” He elevates his shoulders a bit panicked from inside and Y/N forced herself to not to twitch her eye when his chest muscles flexes due to his action.

Bamboozled she takes a glance from her shoulder to where he diverted his sight once she caught him. Her nose scrunched up and chin butted in disgust at the scenery, “That’s literally a heap of dead fishes!”

“Better than starin’ into a dead soul.” His lips down turned into a careless grimace and Y/N gasps out loud pushing the strands of her hair sticking to all of her face because of the breeze gush, “Why would you say that!?”

“’Cos you’re so mauve, that’s why?” He just wants to take a piss out of her. Nobody’s around and he’s finally getting time to talk to her even if it just to sit cross legged on her nerves and sip tea.

He’s actually lying. He thinks she’s more than mauve. She’s all those colours that usually macarons have, all those hues that butterflies wings have and all those tinctures that one find in gems then keep them safe.

She’s the colour he misses in his life.

“And you’re so fucking blue!” She grumbles and that slithered a deep wicked smile on Harry’s lips, “Like this deep ocean yer afraid of?” Her eyes widens at that and she almost lunges on her knees.

How did he know? Ofcourse, he'd. He’s everywhere. In every damn picture of wherever they went for recreation.

“I’m not.” She scoffs, her tone inconvenient and hazy as she shrinks into herself.

“Then take a dip,” She wishes that she could wipe that beautiful stupid smirk off his gorgeous stupidly lame face.

“Kiss my ass.” She spat out throwing a cushion towards him that lands on his lap, “I’d love to.” He barks out a laugh that rings through the waves.

“You’re such a stinky asshole.” She hits him with another that dumps against his chest, “Ow!” He feigns hurt with ridiculous comical expressions and throws the cushion back towards her which she successfully dodges, but, it falls behind her into the water.

“Shit.” She complains ducking around the edge of the yacht and stretches her arm to the plausible extent to grab the floating cushion.

Though when the tips of her toes leaves the seat she was on and she’s bending too much for her own sake Harry’s standing upright, “Hey stop —-" But. It’s too late as with a high pitched squeaky shriek Y/N's rolling first and falling into the water leaving Harry frozen for a second.

Panic chokes her throat and she moves her limbs around everywhere splashing water vigorously. Mouth gasping for oxygen but all that comes is salty water filling her mouth and lungs too, maybe as she sinks deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, Y/N!!” He shouts out jumping to save her immediately knowing she doesn’t know how to swim and he’s wrapping his palm around her neck and pulling her from her waist to himself under the water as she watches him with frightened fading eyes.

He comes back to surface quickly and presses her to his chest. She too clings to him for dear life feeling herself drift into a state of unconsciousness and hard to breath while he grabs the deck and lifts her with himself to it.

He doesn’t risk a chance and lays her limp body down and clasps his hands together pushing them against where her heat beats feebly, winces when she spurts out water painfully.

“Baby...fuck.” He pats her soaked pale cheek anxiously when she still remains unresponsive to him, breathing wearily so he does what has to be done.

He grabbed her chin, squished her cheeks making her lips pucker out and wrapped his mouth around hers sucking the water out and spat it out once his mouth was full.

His eyes slip shuts and he slumps with relief when Y/N coughs out loudly into his chest and he brings her into him murmuring assurance into her wet hair.

“You’re okay darling,” His whisper wavers from the trembling of his lips and his fingers divots into her softest of skin when he hugs her tightly, “’M sorry ‘s me fault, Sweets.” He rubs the bridge of his nose to take the sniff of her scent to calm him down and she shakes her head unable to talk, hands bunched up against his tummy.

“You should rest, yeah?” His gaze soft with care and it’s baffling for Y/N that he ever had this side too. Before, she could be on her feet he slipped his strong arms under her and hoists her up and into him without any trouble.

If Y/N wouldn’t be feeling very droopy and breathless she sure would have fought with him, maybe blushed and hid her face into his neck but she’s already knocking out in his arms from the stingy feeling in her eyes that made her super duper sleepy.

Clouds. Y/N's merged into them and they cover every inch of Y/N, wait where am I? She feels real nice comforted around with such warm bedding and she sure knows it’s not hers. The blurry sight infront of her is enough to aware her and a perfectly calloused hand comes rubbing her shoulder when she tries to sit up.

“Not heaven, o'summat.” He chuckles airily. His smile small and a tad awkward, he’s changed into another pair of trunks that are yellow and his upper half now sadly is covered from a blue tee.

“How you feelin'?” Y/N let his question fly over her head and stutters out loudly, “Why you being s'nice to me now?” It etches a frown on his face but soon it vanishes into an expression that Y/N couldn’t pick point.

“You’ve always been such a meanie...” She murmurs glumly. White sheets tangling around her torso as she moves infront of him – their knees touching.

“I umm –-...like you, I guess?” He has never been this nervous and jumblish with words.

“You guess?” She asks and scared that he missed up he rushes out to hold her and to make her believe that his feelings are true.

“No, no! I’m sure. I like you very much.” That puts Y/N into silence where she stares the gleaming jewels onto his fingers and ponders over what he said.

Harry Styles. Her first kiss. Her very first candy love crush and her dream of bad boy actually likes her back.

She tries to ignore the party poppers going inside her body and the drums of happiness rolling around her heart.

“But ... Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy,” She doesn’t meet his eyes smoothing out the crinkles of sheets and her palm halts immediately when Harry hooks his thumb under her chin and raises it gaze lovingly into her eyes with sincerity, “Just ‘cos I stole yer first kiss?”

He laughs out sweetly when she bobs her head vigorously, “C’mon we were just sixteen! I’d have made sure to tell y'to keep it safe fo’ your precious person if I knew back then.” His pupils gleaming with hope and a tinge of eagerness.

The next thing she said with a slight bubbly pout caught Harry off-guard and in awe that how to process what she said with so much liability and vulnerability.

“But you’re my precious person!!”

“Yeah, baby?” He grins with a dimple tutting in and grabs her small cold hands to pull her closer to him.

The sweet name shies Y/N away and Harry thinks she couldn’t be more endearing as he takes her soft looking puffy face in the warm embrace of his hands and bops their noses together.

“Then g’na make sure ‘m your last.” He murmurs feathering his lips to the corner of her mouth that flutters her eyelids like butterflies and she pants out for more with a sweet whine, “Shit. You’re still very candy like since I last kissed ye'.” He giggles stroking his thumb up her cheek and takes a lick of her jutted bottom lip.

“Harry....” She complains tugging his weary shirt, “Yes me baby?” He quips out with those fake surprised eyes he makes with raised brows and puppy gaze.

“Kiss me alre –—,” He's swallowing her words down with the tender smush of his lips against hers in a kiss that’s slow and comforting at first, hearing onto the noises that she creates from tasting him and it deepens into something ardent and red when Harry pulls her over his thighs and guides her arms around his neck.

Their foreheads comes touching. Their hearts in sync and beside eachother. Their tongues loving on eachother.

“Dunno if I could ever stop.” He whispers breaking the knot of spit that connects their mouths with the stroke of his thumb against her shinning lip and pecks that spot twice.

“Then don’t.” Y/N looses her brain cells and only butterflies to whoosh into her skull as she grabs his jaw never letting him go and kisses him harder and rougher this time.

She’s gonna be in oh so much love with this bad boy that’s such a softie for her and she knows that there’s no going back.

#IMMMMMM BACKKKK FINALLYYY #PLEASEEEEE FORGIVE ME MY READ MORE THINGY IS NOT WORKING #BAD BOIII HARRYYYY #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles prompts #cute harry #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

262 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years ago

Text

Canary, Part 6

First

Tim had been watching her out of the corner of his eyes for a long time. It wasn’t that he was trying to be creepy or anything, he just… didn’t know why she was there. It didn’t make sense. She was relatively low on funds according to what he and Oracle had dredged up, and even Tim in all his billionaire-ness recognized that this place was more expensive than average…

So, why had she come? It wasn’t even close to the motel she was staying at.

The vaguely paranoid -- cautious, he was cautious -- part of him worried that she had somehow known he was there, but there was no way she should have been able to know that. Hell, he hadn’t known he was going to this particular cafe until he’d gotten to work and realized that there were now cameras in the breakroom and his office to make sure he didn’t drink too much.

But, really, it seemed like she was just using the free wifi that the cafe provided to write up a resume.

He relaxed and sunk back in his chair with his laptop while he did his work.

… he didn’t get to work for long.

He picked up on the slight gravel of someone putting on a voice with ease. It was high and sweet, a voice he commonly heard from customer service workers. He chanced a look back at the barista and frowned when he saw her on her phone. Not her, then.

He looked around the tiny coffee shop and cringed a little when he realized what was going on. Shady guy approaches a woman who’s drinking coffee alone? Yeah, that’s never a good thing.

He pushed his laptop into his bag quickly, slung it over his shoulders, put the cap back on his coffee cup so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell that Tim had been there for a while, and rushed over.

He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, bud, she said no.”

Tim watched both of them tense and their gazes were pulled to him in an instant.

Marinette glanced him up and down once. He watched her eyes lock onto his coffee cup for a second and he carefully turned his hand a little so she could see the name.

She smiled. “You’re late, Timmy. Don’t tell me you got caught up in another meeting?”

He shrugged innocently. “You know how it is.” Then, he split into a grin. “Maybe I should be the one that’s upset, though. Can’t believe you didn’t save me a spot.”

“I tried!” She whined. “He insisted!”

The man chuckled awkwardly. “I see. I’m sorry, I thought you were alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t. Can you move, though?”

“Actually,” Tim said, because he didn’t want to sit in the window where Duke might happen to see him while on patrols. “There’s a free table back this way.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side a little before nodding. “Sure.”

She closed her laptop with a snap, gathered her things into her bag, and followed him back to his table.

That should have been the end of it. Unfortunately, the guy was still watching them. It looked like they weren’t going to be able to do work for a while if they wanted to keep up the pretense that they were friends.

She seemed to know it, too, because she sighed and rested her head on her hand with a small frown. “Guess we have to talk.”

He huffed. “Don’t have to sound so upset about it.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“Not sounding much more excited.”

She rolled her eyes and then brought a bright smile to her face. “Sure, Timmy, sounds great! Can’t wait to have a super fun conversation with you!”

“... nevermind. That’s weird. Why did that almost convince me? I knew it was fake.”

She let herself lean back in her chair, her face falling back to a slightly smug grin. “I’m Parisian,” she said simply.

Yeah. That made sense. Every Parisian Tim had had the (dis?)pleasure of meeting had had an almost unnerving amount of control over the way they presented their emotions.

He snickered. “Why the hell would you move here, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Our psychopath was so boring. Like, dude, we get it, your wife died or whatever, that sounds like a you problem. Now, a guy deciding to become a jewel thief purely for the gimmick? Way more interesting.”

“Moral grayness is so twenty years ago,” Tim joked.

“Exactly! Give me dumbasses who are evil purely to be evil and good to be good!”

He grinned. “I can see why you like Harry Potter.”

She blinked.

He motioned to her cup. Scrawled across it in the barista’s messy handwriting was ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’.

She relaxed a little, grinning. “I just finished the books so I’m a bit obsessed. Also, every time I tell them that my name is Marinette they misspell it.”

“Don’t feel too bad, baristas are just like that. Heck, they’ve misspelled my name before.”

“... your name is Tim.”

“They spelled it with a y.”

“... why?”

“Yes. Exactly. A y.”

She giggled a little. “No, I mean why would they do that?”

“Oh. No clue. I hope they were just messing with me.”

The barista was wiping down the tables. It was nearing closing time and Marinette was feeling more and more sorry for the poor workers the longer they stayed. She knew that, when she had used to work at the bakery, she had always especially hated customers that were there around closing time.

Only two tables remained occupied.

She sighed when she glanced over and saw the guy was still there.

Oh well.

She looked over at Tim. “Care to walk me a few blocks in a random direction to see if we can get rid of him?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“‘Certainly’? I may not be super great with American customs yet but even I know that’s weird,” she teased.

He huffed a little. “Listen.”

“I’m listening.”

His nose scrunched. “No, wait, you weren’t supposed to call me out on the fact that I didn’t have an excuse.”

“Oh. Okay, we can try again.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said again, this time in a tone that mocked the one he’d said it in the first time.

Convenient. She was intent on mocking him, too: “I’m listening.”

“You’re the worst,” he complained.

She laughed. “I am so not. Joker exists.”

“You’re worse than him,” he said in his most serious voice.

She laughed harder. “No one is worse than him.”

He grinned. “I thought you liked people that were evil purely for being evil.”

“But he’s not,” she argued. “The man just decided one day that he liked the weird guy who dressed like a bat and figured that the best way to get that guy’s attention was to murder people.”

“Gotta admit, it works,” said Tim.

She shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, it does. Makes me wonder what would happen if the Big Bad Bat didn’t come, though.”

He tipped his head to the side slightly and then shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. He usually stops it in time.”

“I think he’d freak out.”

“Absolutely.”

She grinned and stretched lazily, head tipping back.

“He’s still following us, isn’t he?” Asked Tim.

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

He groaned a little. “Great. Looks like we’re heading to the library.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You go to libraries? You could probably buy every ebook in existence and have a few billion left over.”

“One of my sisters works there, I can ask her to get rid of the guy,” he explained. “But I like libraries. There’s something quaint about them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s nice to see how the common folk live sometimes.”

He returned her eye roll. “Not like that. I spend a lot of time staring at screens, I have a special appreciation for regular old books.”

“That’s nice. I wish I had time to sit down with a physical copy like that.”

“You see, I have this genius strategy for making time: not taking care of myself.”

“Go on, this is intriguing.”

“Well, eating and sleeping, right? Everyone thinks they’re totally necessary things otherwise you’d die or whatever. But, listen, that’s just a hoax made up by the government to perpetuate capitalism.”

She nodded eagerly. “Totally totally totally. What’s your solution?”

“Coffee communism.”

“Yes, you should use your rich boy money to lobby Congress.”

He grinned. “I totally should. But I can’t run it by my family.”

“No way! You never know who's capitalist anymore, they could be plants placed by the sleep industry to ensure that you don’t go through with it.”

He gasped. “No! You think? My own family?!”

She nodded grimly. “It’s always the ones closest to you that betray you.”

And then he broke character, snickering behind his hand. She beamed.

They reached the library and he smiled as he held the door open for her. He asked her to wait while he talked to his sister and she waved him off casually, telling him to take his time.

She pulled out her phone and pressed her lips together thinly as she made a note to head over later that night to give the man -- Henry -- his money. She’d give him a little tip because, for a moment there, she’d almost forgotten that they were just acting. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to purposely trigger herself for the sake of believability but, hey, if she was going to try and dupe one of the smartest businessmen alive into talking to her, she needed to go all out.

Speaking of Tim, she updated the file of Tim’s favorite cafes plus the probabilities of him visiting each one. It was for his oldest brother, Richie Wayne. She didn’t know why Richie was the one to ask for it seeing as he spent most of his time in Bludhaven and therefore likely wouldn’t find much use in it, but no one ever really knew why Richie Wayne did anything. The man famously had almost as much cotton between his ears as his father.

But, Richie Wayne was also just as rich as his father, so… she’d give him his file later that night after checking her math with her favorite graphing calculator.

A redhead in a wheelchair rolled past Marinette and she absently held the door open for her, only to be surprised when she cursed out Henry.

She watched as Henry held his hands up and started backing away from the woman in the wheelchair, and then he ran down the nearest alley.

(… she’d give Henry a bigger tip. The man had just wanted a tiny side job to help pay for his wife and kids that wasn’t being a henchman, he didn’t deserve this.)

She opened the door for the woman on her way back inside and mumbled her thanks. The woman nodded once and continued on her way.

Marinette leaned back against the wall again and scrolled through Twitter as she waited for Tim to reappear. Apparently, Poison Ivy was already back in Arkham. Something about an intern at the botanical gardens watering plants wrong. Wild.

Marinette felt someone sidle up beside her and, after a quick glance confirmed that it was Tim, pocketed her phone.

He smiled at her, a tote bag over his shoulder.

“Did you go grocery shopping while I wasn’t looking, somehow?”

He hesitated before holding it out to her. “It’s the French dubs of the Harry Potter movies.”

She blinked as the bag was thrust into her hands and looked down at it. Yep, that was Harry Potter in French. She also, vaguely, noted the tiny slip of paper his phone number scrawled across it.

She slung the bag over her shoulder.

“I’m never going to return these. You’re going to rack up so much debt.”

~~~

NightwingsAss9384: does anyone know why nightwing and canary hate each other?

ScareCrane: She stabbed Batman once on accident and somehow got away with blaming it on him

Daylightwing: She refuses to let B adopt her.

RiddleMeThis: They think it’s funny when their stans fight.

SignalOfficial: They said ‘I’m the only flippy bitch allowed in New Jersey’ and have been fighting ever since

Yummmmmm: He has to or else Robin will get jealous because he’s the only stabby sibling allowed

Oracle: They’re fighting over who gets to change their name to ‘The Dodo’ first.

DeadHood: Nightwing is jealous that Canary was the first one of us to think to have a full-on bird mask.

TheBetterCanary: every time i go into the batfam tag to try and avoid them all i see is his fancams

SpoilerAlert: they’re both convinced that they’re the hottest bachelor/bachelorette in gotham

NightwingsAss9384: im beginning to think no ones going to tell me.

BlackBat: :)

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje

#if i did a kofi would anyone donate #probably not #canary #maribat #timmari #timari #timinette #shutterbug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

74 notes · View notes

coexiising · 3 years ago

Text

Fade Into You - Chapter Six

SUMMARY ✦ Anger is a heavy subject.

WARNING(S) ✦ fluff

MASTERLIST ✦ Here.

NOTE ✦ I will now be updating weekly on Mondays.

“Why do you stay with the Jedi?”

Vader’s softer tone brought you back to the present, where you were once again sitting at the opposite side of the table, your fork poking into some type of fruit and bringing it up to your mouth. After the rather, how would you put it, lustful, encounter that you had with Anakin, you tried to keep your distance in fear that he could feel your emotions raging like fire throughout your body. That had been two days ago, but living in a building with one person proved harder than not to avoid them. There was truly no way that you could avoid him for too long. It was better to just act like nothing was wrong.

“What do you mean, stay with them? They’re my family,” You said, setting your fork down onto the table near your plate.

Vader shook his head. “You had family before then, you know.”

“Yes, but they gave me away for the good of the Galaxy. The Force gave me a higher purpose to protect.”

“And you truly believe that the Jedi taking you away from your mother and father was the best way to do so? Do you even know who they are?”

You shook your head. You didn’t. As far as you knew, they could still be alive today and maybe you have even been in their presence before, or on the same planet as them due to the many missions you were given by the Order. You never thought about that before, you never gave much thought to the family or the life you had before you became a Jedi. Almost your entire life had been dedicated to the Order and in some ways, Vader was right, they never gave you the choice to leave or not. You knew that you could leave if you really, truly wanted to, but they wouldn’t help you secure a home or a job. Your life was dedicated to the Order. “No, I guess I’ve never really cared who they were enough to go looking for them.”

“I don’t believe that,” Vader stated. “You do care. The Jedi simply tried to tell you to stop caring about those attachments.”

“Attachments lead-”

“-To the Dark Side, I know. You’ve only said it about a million times. It sounds like you’re reciting a drill manual sometimes.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your dishes and brought them to the sink, dropping them in and giving him one more glance, turning on your heel to storm out of the room. He always knew how to get under your skin, making you fume with anger that you hated to feel, because you knew that it was what he wanted. Vader wanted to make you emotional and angry and sometimes he would win. You could feel a difference in the type of Force coursing through your veins when you were angry, a more powerful type that scared as well as intrigued you.

Vader stood up from his seat as well. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Not sure, wherever you won’t be I suppose,” You shrugged your shoulders, stepping out into the hallway, hearing him trail behind you. You spared him no chance and continued to walk to Maker knows where. “Stop following me. I’m not trying to escape, you’ve ruined all chances at that anyways. You keep me here like I’m some kind of pet and aggravate me.”

Vader caught up to you and the moment his hand came in contact with your left shoulder, you spun around and caught him by the wrist, looking up into his eyes. Instead of fear that you typically felt whenever he would look down at you like this, you felt an unusual amount of anger. You wanted to kill him. You wanted to dispose of him so that you could leave and you wouldn’t be trapped here anymore. You had been stuck in this place and the two of you were making little to no progress on assessing the connection that you had with one another. Your other hand came and harshly hit into his abdomen, cutting him off guard and sending him flying towards the other side of the hallway. Once his back hit the end wall and he fell to the ground with a small humph, you gathered your thoughts and attempted to calm yourself down, realizing that you were never able to wield such power before with just one hand. Being here was changing you, and it wasn’t for the better.

Although at first you thought that Vader would become angry that his prisoner was fighting him back, he only stood up and held his hands up in surrender. “Now, I was not expecting that from you,” He stated, a chuckle running past his lips. When he made his way forward, you started to walk backwards, scared of what you would do next with all this power. It was as though your senses came back to you and you didn’t want to hurt him, or kill him like you previously thought you did. Where did all of that come from?

“Stop. Don’t come any closer,” You told him, balling your hands into fists. “I don’t know where that came from and I don’t know if it’s . . . Gone. What are you doing to me?”

“That’s what true power feels like. Isn’t it exhilarating?” Anakin asked you, continuing to take steps towards you despite your pleas to go away. All this emotion, you’ve never felt it this intense before. Instead of the level head that the Order had filled you with, you were left with only your bare mind, neurotransmitters working overtime to compensate for the complete lack of emotional security you felt in the moment. Is this what it felt like to succumb to the Dark Side? No, you couldn’t be, you had tried your hardest to remember the ideals you learned as a Padawan and later as a Jedi Knight. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “It’s not alright, you’re turning me into a monster! Someone who has a complete lack of sympathy for hurting others. I was just about to kill you just then, don’t you understand? Being here is changing me for the worse and we’re achieving nothing!”

Vader was standing in front of you now, a calm demeanor that was a direct opposite from what you were feeling in the moment. It was as if he was assessing you, like he wanted this to happen. Was this his plan all along? To turn you to the Dark Side so that they would win the Clone Wars and the Galaxy would succumb to darkness? That dark, brooding stare looked down at you as he said, “There was no way that you would gain that type of power here in the small amount of time that you’ve resided in the castle.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“That’s been in you this entire time, trying to unleash itself but the Order never let you do so. That’s your true potential, and there is probably more if you were to master it.”

“As I’ve said before, I am not succumbing to the Dark Side no matter how much you try to get me to.”

“This doesn’t seem like the Dark Side, for your Force signature hasn’t changed, can’t you feel it?” Anakin asked. His hand raised and grabbed onto your fist, placing it near your heart. From there you could feel your heart rate, grounding you back to reality and making you able to feel the buzzing of the Force that constantly surrounded you. He was right, it was the same as it always had been, the soft, inaudible whispers of the Force filling your ears. “And I feel more connected to you now, unlike before where there felt as though there was a barrier. And look,” He released your hand and you saw that there was no burn on either of your skins. “It doesn’t want us away from each other anymore.”

The closer Anakin was to you, the more the Force seemed to pull you towards him. It made you want to wrap your arms around him, but instead you grabbed onto his wrist, feeling the harmony surrounding you both. The moment your eyes gazed into his, you could’ve sworn that under those golden eyes you saw a swift sea of blue tint, drawing you closer to Anakin. Your eyes closed and you leaned closer, lips pressing onto his own.

And it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. His lips were soft and plush, inviting you in for more whilst they worked with your own. Your hand stayed gripping his wrist and behind your eyes, a burst of light appeared and you felt something burst within your veins and travel through every single millimeter of your body. You felt like you were on fire, but in the best way that made you want more.

When Anakin finally pulled away from you he only pulled a few centimeters away. Now his eyes were completely blue, a beautiful blue that reminded you of the sky on Coruscant or the diamond jewels that you have seen many Senators wear before. You only looked into them for a moment more before he was kissing you again.

#anakin skywalker fanfiction #Anakin Skywalker #Sith Anakin #clone wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #suitless vader #suitless vader x reader

100 notes · View notes

nanaminokanojo · 3 years ago

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 2/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The sun hasn’t even risen when Nanami came to consciousness as usual. It did not matter whether he was on vacation or working, he just automatically wakes up at the same time each and every morning without miss. It’s regardless of whether he slept enough or not. He saw no point in tarrying in bed – it was unproductive – and immediately got up without skipping a beat in his routine.

“You’re too vanilla,” he remembered you commenting when you stayed one weekend at his place in the city for an art symposium, having met him on the hallway on your way to bed after staying up all night playing video games. He just brushed your remark off with a grunt back then, but at present, he couldn’t help but muse over the fact that everything he did reminded him of you.

It was a bit light outside when he emerged from the adjoining bath of the guest room. He threw on a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt and grabbed a water bottle and a small towel on his way out of the room, mind set on going for a run. If there was something great about staying at Gojo Manor, it was the fact that it was surrounded with acres of grassland and forest with trails great for walks and jogs.

Nanami particularly grew fond of the path that led to the lake at the bottom of the hill where the mansion stood. There was a direct view of it from the balcony at the back of the structure, appearing like a jewel in the middle of the woods, and it had always been his favorite spot. The late former clan head told him it was man-made and has been there for more than a century that it became a natural feature of the estate. It was a spot in the property with a great history and great value to the clan, thus his gravitation towards it.

It’s her favorite place in the whole estate, too, he thought indulgently.

Inhaling deeply, he set out to the back doors that led to the patio and the walled gardens, starting in a slow jog before building his momentum as he reached open grounds.

And thus, his day began as such.

He came back from his run when it was already too hot, heaving deep breaths and desperate for a shower as his white shirt and grey sweats stuck to his body, drenched in sweat. His leg muscles ached, but it had been a good run.

Greetings from the staff met him as he reentered the manor which he returned with polite nods. He was headed to the stairs when he passed by the breakfast room and happened to hear Gojo talking to you. It went against his principles to eavesdrop in an evidently private conversation but he stayed rooted on his spot upon hearing you speak.

Despite your seeming foul temper upon leaving him the previous night, you seemed to have bounced back to your usual self, your tone sounding more jovial than usual. Your words were at odds to your tone as you told Gojo not to piss you off so early in the morning.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Kento?" Gojo asked just as the person in question was about to pass the doorway.

"It's really none of your business," you responded, voice devoid of any emotions. He did it, Gojo. He finally fouled up your mood.

"But I'm your brother!" Gojo protested, acting all dumb around you again. He just had that complex where you were concerned. He has always been very soft on you yet he was also fiercely protective. You hated his attention though. Yours was a strange dynamic.

"Worry about your wedding, will you? Geez. Don’t you have a luncheon to host?"

"Why did you kiss him then? On the mouth no less!"

Nanami’s heart skipped a beat, anticipation rising like cold water from his toes going up his chest. He wanted to hear what you had to say. Fuck principles. He needed his answers, too. It did not matter in what way he was getting them at that rate. He was secretly hoping you will say something a little bit more revealing about what goes inside your head given that he cannot just pry inside it even if he wanted to.

"Because I wanted to." You stated it so matter-of-factly that Gojo was at a loss for words for a moment. “Didn’t you hear me? I was dying to do that since he arrived.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“You tell me.” That’s becoming your signature line. “You won’t understand unless you kiss, Nanamin, too,” the tenor of your words turning fanciful. “He has such an alluring taste to him.”

What is this woman on about?

“Oh, god, stop it!”

"You should have seen the looks on your faces though. I was half expecting your eyeballs to roll on the floor. Wouldn’t that have been grand? It’s definitely shocking but a good subject for art if not a medium." At that, you laughed, the sound hitting Nanami like tinkling bells. It was such a happy sound that reminded him of better days although the thought that prompted it was utterly macabre. “Maybe that should inspire my next work. It would be like Munch’s The Scream, the next of its kind.”

"Hmm. Good point…” Gojo mumbled, sidetracked, obviously sharing your sentiments on the idea of such grotesqueness, but regained his composure just as quickly. “It's not funny!"

"But it is." Your laughter subsided as quickly as it erupted from your throat as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Your capricious nature was surfacing once more, and if there was something that was more frightening than your strong, habitual liking for trifling with people, it was that. "So what if I have other intentions behind it? Are you gonna get mad at me or something?”

"Well, do you?!" Gojo sounded like a manatee on the throes of death.

“But what are you going to do, brother? Stop me perhaps?"

He of all people should know just how unstoppable you were when you have set yourself into doing something. “N-no –”

“And what if Nanamin has the same intentions? What will you do then?”

“Hey, that’s enough of you. I know you’re trying to trap me into saying something again.” He clucked his tongue. “I seem to be the only one who isn’t in on your games, and if it is one, I have to know. You’re just way too outrageous these days that I cannot tell what’s serious and what’s not anymore.”

Gojo took a deep breath, sounding distressed as he exhaled. “Is there something else going on?”

"Maybe,” you answered noncommittally.

"That's not an answer at all!" he snapped.

You clucked your tongue, sounding irritated. "Stop screaming, Satoru."

"Do you like him?"

“Is your emphasis on that word supposed to change its meaning?”

If Nanami’s heart was skipping earlier, it has now stopped completely, robbing him of air as it seemed to have affected his lungs, too. You were maddening, not only to Gojo but to him as well. It was evident that you were in your gaming mood again, and although you were only intentionally riling your brother, he was also directly in your line of assault.

Gojo sighed in defeat, mirroring Nanami’s feelings. “Y/N, please, just answer the question,” he whined.

“I guess.” There was a pause then you said, "I mean, what's not to like?"

"What?!"

“Like it or not, Nanamin is a very excellent specimen of the male populace. He’s fucking irresistible and that’s an understatement.” You scoffed. "Even you like him."

Your voice was followed by your footsteps as you neared the door. In a daze at your vocal expression of how you find him physically attractive, instead of backtracking, Nanami stepped forward and collided with your form, nearly knocking you off your feet. He was after all twice your size and a good foot taller than you.

"Careful," he said between deep breaths, one arm securing you by the waist while his other arm gripped onto the door jamb, the position making the veins and sinews of his arm rather pronounced.

“Speak of the devil…” You straightened up, not making any effort to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Your head turned towards the direction of the breakfast room, making him mimic the action only to see Gojo standing slack-jawed, watching what was unfolding before him with eyes wide with shock. Nanami could've sworn his best friend just went into a state of catatonia.

"Didn't see you there," you said, addressing Nanami, your blue eyes assessing him as if in suspicion.

"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, feeling the tips of his ears heating up. Before you could notice, he stepped aside, heading towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hey, Nanamin," you suddenly called, making him halt and turn his head to your direction. You were smirking at the direction of your brother as you said, "Nice ass."

He shook his head. It was really just a ploy to get to Gojo’s nerves, and he was your pawn.

The sound of graphite scratching on paper like a harsh slash of sword punctuated the impending absence of thought in your mind. Nothing mattered but the sight of your hand gripping a pencil as it created unintelligible strokes on the plain page of the sketchbook on your lap. It progressed to furious scribbling, your movements becoming faster, the sound dominating your corner of the room. Everything has been drowned out – the endless chattering, the sound of porcelain and silverware hitting each other in chaotic cacophony – heightening in a painful crescendo of auditory abomination and dying in the air, overwhelmed by the picture you were creating on the blank expanse of space.

“You must be so proud of your daughter.”

Scratch.

“Who wouldn’t be? It must be great to have geniuses for children”

Scratch.

“She’s just as famous as Satoru.”

Scratch.

Just like that, they didn't exist. The room was empty save for you and the view outside the window coming to life on paper. Your eyes darted from your sketch to the familiar yet equally exhilarating view just outside the parlor. Gojo was animatedly talking about something, easily excitable as always. His fiancée laughed on the side while Nanami was witheringly eyeing him, stoic as always. Shoko, who arrived the previous evening, also joined the group. All that was missing was Geto. You wondered if you should draw him somewhere in the sketch.

The image before you reminded you of those days when reality seemed far away, back when Gojo was still a student, exceptional as always but still young, not the renowned genius tycoon he was at present. His friends would always be around him, lounging around the manor like they hadn't a care in the world.

His crowd grew in number with Geto and Nanami being the two closest pals he had. Shoko joined in shortly in middle school. On the other hand, Utahime came during his university days, also starting off as Gojo’s friend and eventually becoming his girlfriend. Now they were about to get married and it seemed to punctuate all the changes that came with being the grown-ups that they are.

It scared you.

Fact is, growing up and growing old and the changes that come with it was terrifying. Even if you yourself were already twenty four, seemingly had your life together and appearing to have matured without a hitch, that wasn’t the case at all. Genius or not, your brother also had his issues even while he was rising to his current position in society.

The problem was within you, you knew it. That and the fact that you did not really know what growing means. Your work grew, matured like crazy. You didn’t think you yourself grew, stuck in those days when everything was relatively easier. At least then, you only had to worry about your classmates hating on you. Now a part of the public did.

Looking at Gojo and his gang, they’ve all handled that well, making you wonder how they did it. He is one of the youngest CEOs in the country, having built his business empire at just seventeen. Your future sister-in-law is a professor, Geto is a sought-after model and Shoko is a forensic pathologist. They were all great at what they did, struggled as well, but came out with perfect grace.

However, you think the best one out of them was none other than the object of your pining – Nanami Kento. The man made transitioning to adulthood look rather easy. Maybe it was because he had always been mature and held himself in perfect equilibrium. Sure, he was no Gojo Satoru, but he was innately intelligent and became one of the youngest barristers who held the position of a famous attorney’s partner. He handled controversial cases and is one of the best prosecutors in the country with a high winning percentage. His work aside, he seemed to have the least struggle out of everyone.

Your lips curled up at the corners at the thought of the man. Your gaze flicked to him from the sketchbook, sitting there with a beverage in his hand, the noon sun glimmering on his hair and the planes of his face, looking more laid back without a blazer on. He was dressed rather casually in a pair of khaki trousers and dusty blue button-ups, but he still looked smart. He always dressed that way which you found very attractive although seeing him in more casual clothes like that morning was another level of hot altogether. He’s quite a bit formal, making him seem monotonous, but it’s that consistency that you liked about him. It was only a bonus that he was devastatingly handsome with those sharp features and the suits made him look so sexy in that it left everything about his real physique to imagination.

One just could not get enough of him, at least you couldn’t, but you did see how his partner’s paralegal eyeballed him all the time. (You secretly wanted to gouge her eyes out.) That’s the kind of man Nanami was. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it leaves profound dents to one’s psyche. And man, was he hot in court! He’s fucking sarcastic when he wants to be, to the point of being vile, but one just can’t get offended with the kind of logic he has. Once he speaks his mind, one wishes he wouldn’t stop, but he does and leaves that person craving more, his hypnotic, deep voice a rare treat. He wasn’t big on actions, wasn’t expressive, but when he does something, it’s always with purpose and precision, never over the top and always with disciplined stoicism.

You chuckled quietly, your pencil drawing perfect strokes of his hair when you were pulled out of your trance.

“Yuuji!” you heard Gojo say, pulling your attention to the direction of the window.

You broke into a grin at the mention of the name, hurriedly getting on your feet and running out of the room, deaf to your mother’s protests against your unladylike behavior – the commotion foreign to the ladies in the room who moved with the minutest rustles. You made your way out to the patio, that familiar tuft of pink hair coming into your line of vision. You sprinted through the glass doors towards the person whose name your brother called, smile wide and genuine.

“You kept me waiting long enough,” you called out, voice louder than usual. You’re hardly ever giddy nor were you easily excitable like your brother, but Itadori Yuuji was a different story altogether. You loved the boy with a fierceness akin to a mother and were always ecstatic to be around him but suppressed it by acting gruff. You were crazy like that.

“That’s because you won’t help me with my final requirements,” he retorted good-naturedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and nuzzling the back of your head as if you were a fuzzy plush toy, making you drop your drawing implements. Well, you were considerably smaller than him, and he was probably the only one who could do that to you and get away unscathed.

You rolled your eyes, noticing how Gojo had picked up your stuff, looking at the page where it was opened. “You should exert yourself more. You’re no genius after all.”

“That’s mean!”

You smirked at him, your eyes straying to your brother who was smiling at your drawing. He had such a proud, fond look on his face that you couldn’t do anything but stare. He has always been ever since you first held crayons and drew him as a cat. “You even included Suguru,” he cooed, pointing at the missing person you included then proceeding to show it off to his friends. “Guys, look. My baby sister drew us.”

“Surprise, surprise,” you sallied, but you were happy that he’s always showing you off.

Utahime and Shoko stood beside him, also looking at the sketch. The latter raised a thumb at your direction. “Damn, kid. You’re really great at what you do. How do you make things come alive with just a pencil?”

You smiled awkwardly. “I –”

“Give it here,” Nanami suddenly butted in, hand reaching for the sketchpad which Gojo promptly handed him.

You felt Yuuji elbowing you while you stood there, observing the man who was in possession of your drawing.

Nanami blinked then, handing it back to you. “How come I don’t have a face?” he asked, expression expectant of your response.

Annoyed, you snatched it back from him.

“It’s obviously not finished yet,” Shoko commented, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was not that you cannot, but you would never draw his face. Ever. You tried tons of times if the tens of pages of sketchpads at your apartment filled with different angles and parts of him would be a basis for that. You could draw everything else about him, just not his face. No amount of contemplation and practice helped you to know why, but you attributed it to the fact that you could not do his face justice, at least in the sense that you would not be able to bring it to life as Shoko said.

Finally, you said, “I didn’t feel like drawing your face.” You turned away, dragging Yuuji with you. The boy was still giggling like a hyena until you got to the second-floor balcony where you propped yourself up on the balustrade, looking sulky.

"You might fall there, you know," he commented, jumping up the marble balustrade to join you.

"I can say the same for you," came your quiet reply. "Where's Megumi?"

“He’ll be here before lunch.” Yuuji leaned close to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “What, or rather who, is that look on your face for?”

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Did you tell Nanamin?" He addressed the man just as you did and got away with it, too, for some reason.

"Tell him what?"

He scoffed playfully. "Are you seriously playing this game with me? I'm your best buddy. I know everything."

"As irritating as that is, it's true."

Yuuji pouted at you. "I heard what you did yesterday. Why do you have to make games out of everything?"

"That's how I communicate. I thought you knew everything."

Harsh as always, he thought. "Be a normal person for once and just tell him." His brows knit together. "Well, you're anything but normal," he mused aloud. “I meant that nicely.”

You blew a raspberry. "You're just as normal as I am if you claim to be my best friend. Which you are. No take backs."

Yuuji couldn't help but smile at that. You have always been a loner and you did not mind being alone. He was grateful you wanted him around despite that.

"But you should stop doing this. He wants you. It's obvious."

"It's not that simple."

"What isn't simple? If it's Satoru, he'll understand for sure if you just try to be honest. I'm sure he just isn't for it more because he doesn't know how you feel. I mean, if I were him, I'll also protect my baby sister from my male friends. That's just how it is."

You blinked, pivoting your whole body so you were facing him.

"Well, of course, Nanamin needs to fight for it, too," he was quick to throw in, rambling to himself when he suddenly felt you reach out towards him, gently running your fingers through his pink hair. He leaned towards your touch, smiling contentedly.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"I'm not –"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you seriously playing this game with me?" you asked, mimicking his words earlier. "I'm your best buddy. I know everything, one of them being the fact that you worry worse than my mother."

Yuuji jumped off the balustrade, reaching out to grab you in a bear hug despite your protestations. Just like how you were with everyone else, you shunned his affection, but he knew better than to let go when you were saying exactly that. He found that trait of yours adorable.

"You're so irritating," you hissed, flipping your platinum white hair over your shoulder when you finally managed to get off his grip but he wrapped an arm over your shoulder nonetheless, undeterred by your words.

"You know you love me."

"Shut up."

Yuuji pouted. "You sound like Megumi."

"I heard that," the person in question suddenly spoke from the direction of the entry, his deep voice making you and Yuuji turn towards him. "They're calling everyone for lunch."

Yuuji followed behind as you approached Megumi, also one of your closest friends and practically your brother, keeping you in check more than Gojo ever can.

"Guess what," Megumi said to you as you walked beside him. In one of the rare moments you would see it, he grinned and you knew it wasn't because of anything good.

"What?" you and Yuuji, who thought the same by the look on his face, chorused.

"Nobara switched your name card with Miwa's. You're now seated next to your man candy. You're welcome."

“Isn’t that more of a perk for Miwa? She’s scared shitless of Nanamin, you know.”

The three of you laughed while Yuuji could just shake his head at the inescapable trouble that will follow. His only consolation was that it’s fun when it involves you.

What were the odds, Nanami thought to himself. He didn't have to look twice to see whose name it was on the card on the spot next to him. He exhaled loudly, unfolding the napkin and placing it on his lap. This could only lead to hullabaloo he was not exactly in the mood to deal with especially after you just told him you did not feel like drawing his face. You sure were mean when you wanted to be.

He surveyed his vicinity. Your father, the current head of the clan from whence your blue eyes came from, was seated at the head of the table, your mother to his right, while Utahime’s parents sat to his left. It seemed to have been the only formalities observed in the arrangement. From across Nanami sat Utahime and Gojo while on his right were a couple he only knew as cousins to the Gojo main family.

He was internally pinching the bridge of his nose. You really had to be the one seated next to him and right across your annoying brother, too.

The luncheon started without you. It wasn't a formal gathering after all except they were serving a full-course meal. It was more of a way to get everyone to know one another over the week for some reason he cannot fathom, and he was glad that only your father was the one who had engaged him in a conversation, mostly about work. It was easy enough to deal with.

"Where are Y/N and her friends?" your mother asked Gojo out of the blue.

Utahime, answering for the clueless person beside her, pointed towards the direction of the door to the banquet hall where you were leisurely walking towards your designated seat with Yuuji and Megumi. The former rounded the table to sit next to Gojo.

"Still managing to be late even when you're already at the venue, baby sis?" Nanami heard Gojo say as you assumed your seat. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted from Nanami to you that your tardiness wasn't exactly the problem.

You blatantly ignored his comment and turned your attention to Nanami. "Had a good run this morning, Nanamin?"

"Just so," he answered, side-glancing at you.

"Yeah. You looked super hot this morning," you said just as Gojo was taking a sip from his wine glass.

Megumi snorted when the older male started choking on his drink while Yuuji was trying hard not to laugh.

Nanami knew he would have reacted the same way except that he had been bracing himself for whatever you will say the moment Gojo opened his mouth. Of course you will use him in your counter attack. It's yet another game, not that he was less affected by your words.

"You should have seen him, Iori," you continued, addressing your brother's fiancée. "He looks so much less uptight in casual clothes."

It didn't escape Nanami’s notice how Gojo was looking at him. He looked about ready to drop onto the floor, but paid him no mind as he leveled his mouth to your ear. "Y/N, let's not make your dear brother snap, shall we?"

"Oh, sweetheart, maybe that's what he needs right now," you deadpanned, meeting his gaze squarely, your disposition unreadable as you let your eyes linger on him longer than was deemed appropriate.

Yuuji finally laughed, earning him a kick to the shins under the table courtesy of Megumi.

What it was about you that made everything else irrelevant and nonexistent when you’re that close to him was something beyond him. You always made him lose control, tempted him to break the rules. He only knew he couldn't act on it. Most of the time anyway. He also felt like laughing, oddly enough.

Utahime just chuckled good-naturedly breaking the tension. "Since the two of you are here, I should tell you that the final fitting for your clothes for the wedding is this afternoon. So, you better go together at the shop."

"Traitor." Gojo pouted at Utahime but nobody was really paying attention to him anymore. For someone so important to society with a flawless image, the closest people around him sure were good at disregarding him when they deemed it fit.

"Okay," Nanami said, looking at you for confirmation.

It was you who looked away this time. "I'm free."

"That's set then." Utahime clapped her hands and to Nanami she cheekily said, "Maybe wear something less formal."

At that, you grinned wickedly at him. So much for avoiding trouble with you.

-end of part 2-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

If you want to be included in the tag list, please DM me :)

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

67 notes · View notes

angstyclowns · 5 years ago

Note

So another idea Alpha Dragon Bokugo noticing his treasure has been taken from his nest and finds Oméga reader with some of his treasure in a market but instead of being mad he starts finding more gems and jewelry to give to them to court them. And I’m go add a sign off to the prompts I send you so if you get annoyed at any of them you can ignore them-🔮

When I tell you I was so excited to write this, like I started planning immediately.

Also, if you haven’t - sorry if I’m annoying you- read @plainbrunettelbl fanfics with dragon Bakugo. they make my heart swell.

Alpha! Dragon! Bakugo x Thief! Omega! Reader

To say he was livid was the understatement of the motherfucking year

He was prepared to burn down the entire fucking country when he found select fire opals, rubies and carnelians missing.

A dragon’s hoard was sacred, and he knew the exact number of gems in his. As of currently though, seven gems were missing.

seven.

That’s seven villages he would burn down as collateral.

First things first though, finding the dumbass who had a death wish.

Whoever it was left a scent- meaning alpha or omega- and judging by the sweeter tone it had, he was gonna go with omega.

Though it didn’t matter, he was going to obliterate them.

So he changed into his dragon form quickly, letting out such a loud roar it shook the earth below him as he soared, following the scent.

And to whoever’s credit, they made it much further then he would’ve expected, traveling a good four villages away from his den.

You must’ve had a horse.

So he wasn’t the first dragon you’ve stolen from.

The thought made him snarl as smoke escaped his nostrils.

You were going to perish slowly and painfully.

Once your scent began to cloud over a special village, he turned back into his human form, stomping his way to the bazaar, no one dared step in his way

He was a dragon on a mission.

And that mission was to find you.

And he did.

Just as you were handing a bright red carnelian to the bazaar man, getting a hefty bag of coins in return.

And though he wanted to be angry, he just...couldn’t.

All that steam he had propelling him earlier suddenly disappeared as he saw you.

You were breathtaking in every way. He couldn’t even describe it, you were just...beautiful.

So he decided to follow you... keep an eye on you in a way.

He still had his gems he had to collect payment on.

So he watched as you got on your horse- his assumptions proving right about the horse- following you in his dragon form as you rode home.

To the saddest shack he had ever seen.

As you rode up, an army of kids ran up to you- Katsuki assuming this was an orphanage of sorts.

His assumptions were proven correct when an older woman walked out, thanking you profusely as you handed her the satchel of coins.

Only for it to be snatched as a mean looking man chuckled.

Katsuki hated tax collectors- even before he met you- but watching your face go from bashful to distressed, burnt sugar entering his sensitive nostrils., made him despise them.

You had jumped and swiped at the bag that was held a little out of your reach, looking close to snapping.

Katsuki decided he had seen enough.

Changing forms, he stalked over to the tax collector snatching the bag of coins from behind him.

When the tax collector turned around to snap, his words caught in his throat before the beta was sprinting away- his alpha goonies behind him.

Katsuki’s ruby eyes then turned to you, his inner alpha straight up dying as you whimpered, shielding the children behind you.

“Please, I know what I did was wrong, and I’ll rightfully suffer for it, but please, let them keep the money. They need it more than you do.”

He huffed, smirking at the fear the children showed.

But not at your fear.

He tossed the bag to old bat before turning, changing forms and flying back to his den.

Hatching a plan in his head to get you to be his.

You were immaculate- more so than any of his gems- just in the way you acted, let alone looked.

Willing to take any punishment so that those pups could eat?

He hadn’t remember why he was so angry before.

They were just mere gems- and that was it.

Taking a quick U-turn, Katsuki made his way to the dragon gem mines, knowing just how to win your heart.

Given you were super confused when gems of all shapes, sizes and colors started appearing places where you would find them.

You knew they were courting gifts, but from who?

You kept each one, nonetheless, using it to fix up the orphanage were you lived, and keep that bastard tax collector off your back for a while.

Of course, all good things must come to an end however.

Just as you found another bright red ruby- your admirer seeming to have a liking with red, reminding you of the rather handsome dragon- it was pulled out of your hand before you could register.

“Stealing from dragons, tch tch. You know that’s an offense punishable by death.”

“I didn’t steal it.”You snapped, grabbing the gem from Maverick, the tax collector.

“Then you went to the dragon mines, which is still a felony.”

His hand snacked around your neck as he sniffed your scent gland, nearly making you puke.

“Of course, no one would have to find out about this. Though I’ve dreamed of the day this orphanage closes, I could wait a little longer...”

A small explosion near Maverick’s ear made him drop you, giving you the chance to hide yourself and the jewel behind whatever saved you.

funny enough, it was that handsome dragon.

Your omega chirped in happiness at the man before he turned to you with a smirk, a purr leaving him before he turned to the tax collector.

“Stay the fuck away from this orphanage and my omega, got that dickbag? Or do I need to burn it onto your forehead?”

Maverick quickly shook his head before running with his tail between his legs.

Katsuki then turned to you.

“Your happy to see me-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before you were launching yourself onto him, Katsuki smiling as he wrapping his arms around you.

“Come on, let’s get you back home. I have a feeling you need to spend a little time with your dragon and not just his hoard.”

“I’m sorry!”

#alpha katsuki #alpha katsuki bakugo #alpha katsuki bakugo x omega reader #alpha bakugou katsuki #alpha bakugo #alpha bnha boys #alpha bakugo x omega reader #dragon katsuki bakugo #dragon bakugo #bnha fantasy au #alpha dragon katsuki bakugo #alpha dragon katsuki bakugo x omega reader #how do i tag #please help

4K notes · View notes

handwrittenhello · 3 years ago

Text

sweet little lies

Rating: M Warnings: Assassination attempts, poisoning, bombing Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer Word Count: 6.2k Summary: “He’s very…” Geralt trailed off, arms crossed. "Pretty?” Yennefer finished for him, appraising the man in front of her. He seemed entirely unconcerned about his state of near-nudity, and even less concerned about the fact that the entire court was ogling him, including the Warlord of the North and her right-hand man. “Thank you,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I do try.” -- When Yennefer of Vengerberg, Warlord of the North, receives Jaskier as tribute, she doesn't trust him—the rumor is that assassins and spies are trying to infiltrate her court. And despite being sent unwillingly, Jaskier seems perfectly happy—too happy—to be there. As tensions with the bordering country of Rivia grow stronger, she must beware, and figure out who she can truly trust.

or, yet another warlord au (but with warlord yennefer this time), inspired by @inexplicifics! read here on ao3.

“He’s very…” Geralt trailed off, arms crossed.

“Pretty?” Yennefer finished for him, appraising the man in front of her. He seemed entirely unconcerned about his state of near-nudity, and even less concerned about the fact that the entire court was ogling him, including the Warlord of the North and her right-hand man.

“Thank you,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I do try.”

He did indeed try, judging by how heavily his face was made up and by the numerous precious metals and jewels that adorned his ears and fingers and even one nostril. Yennefer didn’t think she’d ever seen more piercings in her life. The wealth the stranger wore on his body was simply astounding. Besides the more conventional jewelry, he also wore a shirt—if one could call it that—of fine gold chains interlaced, studded intermittently with shimmering gems. He wore no trousers, only a sheer wrap accentuated by a belt, made of yet more fine chains entwined. Finishing the ensemble were golden cuffs around his wrists—the entire outfit seemed to subtly shout prisoner, in fact, when she looked for it.

“And who sent you?” she asked, her voice ringing clear through the hall.

“I come to you as a gift, courtesy of King Vizimir of Redania,” the man replied, sinking into another low bow. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Master Bard, and Esteemed Courtesan, at your service, my lady.” He made no mention of his own involvement in the matter, Yennefer noted darkly. She would not take slaves, expensive tribute or not.

But to publicly refuse such a gift would show blatant disfavor, and may spark an unwanted war. “You may tell King Vizimir I accept his gift,” she told the messenger who had accompanied Master Pankratz. “And you,” she turned to Pankratz, “may come with me.” She turned and left the hall, trusting him and Geralt both to follow her.

Whispers rose up in her wake, titters at what she might do with the new esteemed courtesan, but she ignored them. One did not become Warlord of the North by caring what courtly gossip featured oneself.

She pushed open the doors to her room, Pankratz just behind her, and Geralt, silent, bringing up the rear. He was good at that sort of thing—protecting her, always, and always with the taciturn seriousness most knew him for.

Only few knew what truly lurked beneath the surface. She was privy to more than most—as her right-hand man, bodyguard, and occasional lover, he let her see more than most. She could see a hint of it peeking out through his stony exterior now—he was disturbed, unsettled, though she couldn’t tell the cause.

She sat herself in her customary armchair by the hearth, Geralt taking a place looming behind her, and after Pankratz hesitated, she directed him to the armchair across from her. He sank into it quickly, giving the ridiculous impression of a puppy aiming to please its master. She rolled her eyes.

“We can drop the bullshit,” she stated plainly, and his eyes widened. “Do you truly wish to be here? Speak truly.”

He swallowed. “My lady, it is truly the greatest honor to be in your presence—” he began, but Yennefer cut him off with a look.

“I said no more pretty lies. I have enough of those in my court—I don’t need you adding to that pile of shit.” There was little more she despised than venomous intentions disguised. The best attack was one that could be anticipated.

“Very well, my lady. Though it is true I did not come here willingly—” Geralt stiffened at that, his hand going reflexively to the hilt of his sword, though Yennefer gave no outward indication of her disgust. “—I did not come here willingly, but, having found myself in your court, I find that there is little else I could wish for. In truth, I would much prefer here to whence I came.” He said the last bit in a black tone, hinting at some strife Yennefer knew not of.

“Well, I would give you the option, then,” Yennefer replied. “You may leave, if you so wish—I will supply you with enough to get by until you can establish yourself, wherever you may choose to go. I hear Toussaint is nice this time of year.” Pankratz smiled. “Or you may remain in my court, but know this—I tolerate no treachery, no spies, of any sort.” She leaned in close; the smile dropped from his face. “If I discover that you’ve been sent as some foreign agent to engineer my demise—” she locked eyes with him “—your demise will not be swift.” She spoke the last words softly, so softly, but plenty intelligible in the absolute silence of the room. “But you’ll wish it would be.”

Pankratz gulped.

“Have I made myself clear?” she asked, leaning back, releasing him from the uncomfortable closeness.

“Crystal, my lady,” he answered, smiling shakily. “And, if it’s all the same to you, I would rather not try my luck out there. Much easier to earn my keep at the luxury of the court.”

Yennefer wasn’t surprised by the attitude; clearly this was a man well accustomed to luxury. “Very well. And how do you plan to earn your keep?”

“Well, my lady,” he began, voice dropping into a sultry register. “You’ll find that I’m quite good with my fingers and tongue, as it were.” He slid from his chair, somehow managing to make it look effortlessly elegant, and shuffled closer to her on his knees. Geralt stiffened; Yennefer waited for Pankratz to dare touch her. But no touch was forthcoming, despite the strange flutter of arousal in her stomach that spoke to how she almost wanted him to try.

“Presumptuous of King Vizimir,” was all she replied. “And what if I have no need of a bedwarmer?”

Pankratz sat back on his heels. “Well, I have other talents. I studied at Oxenfurt—you may also hear me called Jaskier the Bard, at your service,” he said, giving a little half-bow, all he could manage in a kneeling position. “I would sing of your victories for all to hear and be warned, lest the—the Raven Storm come to batter down their doors!” He punctuated his sentence with a grand gesture, one that nearly knocked him off balance.

“No.”

“N-no, my lady?” Jaskier questioned, his arms dropping. “I can come up with something else, if you don’t like the name—"

“It’s not the name,” Yennefer said dismissively. “It’s the exaggeration. I’ve already told you, I value honesty alone. I won’t have any pretty ballads hiding bastard truths.”

Jaskier looked as though he wanted to argue, but wisely held his tongue. To soften the disappointment, Geralt came around and offered him a hand up. Jaskier took it, and also took a moment to stare appreciatively at Geralt. He was lucky she wasn’t the jealous type—she could have his head for it.

“You may stay,” she declared. “You need not pay for it in my bed, though if you do truly mean what you say, then we can discuss your… talents, as it were. For now, Geralt will find you rooms of your own and show you around the palace. You may have the rest of the day to acclimate, though I expect you in the dining hall tonight at sundown.”

It was a clear dismissal. “Thank you, my lady, you’re too kind,” Jaskier said as Geralt led him out of the room.

“No flattery,” she reminded him, but they were already gone.

Jaskier settled into life at her court like a duck to water. He did indeed have a talented tongue and fingers—which he proved the first time he sang for them, with a lute to accompany it. He bounced around the room, capturing the attention of all he met—he was impossible to ignore, loud and bright as he was, bedecked in jewelry.

Geralt had tried to offer him clothes when he first settled into his rooms, but Jaskier seemed more than content to prance around nearly naked. Geralt hated it—he complained to her, one night, that Jaskier was too distracting, pulling Geralt’s attention away. He took his duties very seriously—formerly a knight of Rivia, he now devoted himself to her with the same near-religious fervor, taking her protection upon himself.

It was sweet, if a little misguided. She could protect herself just as well, but it was nice knowing that he was there behind her, always ready to support her if she faltered.

“I don’t like it, Yen,” he said to her, late one night, as the fire burned down to embers in the hearth. They were curled side by side in her bed, sweat cooling on their damp bodies, Geralt occupying himself by playing with strands of her hair. “Unrest in Rivia is growing stronger—we could have a revolt on our hands before the harvest.”

“I’m not worried about Rivia,” Yennefer replied, waving a hand lazily. “Little more than whispers on the wind. King Reginald, gods spit on his soul, has too few supporters left to be any real threat. The rest either died with him in the coup or fled like the cowards they were.”

“I’m serious, Yen. Word on the street is that there’ll be an attempt on your life before the year is out.” A furrow creased his brow, his fingers growing tense in her hair. Gently, she disentangled them before lacing their fingers together.

“Is that not what I have you for?” she asked, a smile quirking her lips. He worried too much—his consternation was almost cute. “Relax. If any assault comes, we’ll be well prepared for it.”

“It won’t be anything as obvious as an attack on the city. Rivian forces are smart—they’ll send spies, or assassins, or both. You wouldn’t even see it coming.”

“If it will make you feel better, then you may begin vetting those in the court you find suspicious,” Yennefer relented.

Geralt hummed, his eyes slipping closed in satisfaction. She too closed her eyes, but the thought nagged at her—did she trust everyone in the palace? Most of them she’d known for decades—they’d worked under King Demavend with her, and had helped her overthrow him when he became too cruel to stand. She’d rewarded their loyalty with a place at her side, and they’d remained trustworthy through the years.

There had been few new arrivals since then—Geralt himself was among them, having joined her during the Coup of Rivia. And of course there was their newest arrival, Jaskier.

He seemed perfectly content in his new role. She had to admit it suited him well—he loved attention, and got it in spades when singing or when draped seductively next to her throne. He made good decoration, though she had yet to negotiate a more intimate role with him. She never held back from staring, though—and though he often caught her, he seemed pleased more than anything else.

Was he too comfortable here? It was true, he had settled in remarkably quickly—did he have a hidden purpose? But what use would King Vizimir have for a spy in her court, especially one as useless as Jaskier? He wasn’t present at any strategy meetings, or even privy to her company more than most. Perhaps he was an assassin biding his time?

Yennefer huffed. This was how paranoia set in—whispers and rumors crept in and set the mind aflame with possibilities until it drove itself mad. She resolutely cleared all thoughts of betrayal from her mind and tried to sleep.

Geralt commenced his investigation as soon as he was able, but Yennefer heard little else from him about it. She assumed that meant the search for traitors was proving unfruitful.

She interrupted him one day with a task at the southern border—there were reports of skirmishes breaking out, most likely bandit attacks. He departed with a promise to return by the month’s end, and she watched him leave with a pit in her stomach.

It wasn’t the first time they’d parted—so why was her stomach twisting so? Why were her instincts screaming that it would all go wrong?

There was nothing to worry about. She needed to take her mind off it, that was all. She went back into the palace and headed for the southern wing—where Jaskier’s rooms were.

“My lady Yennefer!” he greeted her happily, springing from his writing desk upon her entrance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Then he paused, frowned. “Where’s your shadow? I can’t hardly think of a time I haven’t seen him hovering menacingly over your shoulder.”

“He’s away for the time being.” She motioned him closer, and he went as if reeled in by a fishing line.

“Luckily you still have me,” he replied, biting his lip. He was yet unsure of his advances—good. She would keep him on his toes.

“And would you give yourself to me?” she asked, stepping even closer, until there were scant few inches between them. “Let me have you?”

“In a heartbeat, if my lady so wished,” he breathed, leaning in. She didn’t wait for his lips to brush hers; she surged forward at once, attacking with brutal efficiency. The kiss was more a clash of wills than anything tender. To her delight, he didn’t simply let her plunder his mouth, but gave as good as he got, hands coming up to clutch at her dress. She pushed him away, and his face split with confusion until she pushed him again, back onto the bed. His hands fisted in the covers as she climbed on top of him, finding the clasps that would free him from the confines of the chains that draped over his body.

Soon she had stripped the gold and gems from his body, and at some point her own clothes had disappeared as well, and finally she was free to take him how she wished. He was a good lover, enthusiastic and skilled—his talents truly were as good as he’d made them out to be.

Her only point of contention came near the end, when he began to murmur sweet nothings into her hair, praising her and begging in turn. Even after, when they lay panting atop the sheets, he continued to weave pretty lies, complimenting her prowess and beauty until she rolled over and pinned him down.

“What have I said about lying?” she bit, but there was no real heat to it.

“And as I’ve told you a dozen times, I speak nothing but the truth,” he replied, “but if you wish my silence, well—I suppose you’ll have to find a way to shut me up.” He grinned.

She was gratified to see that he was no longer the deferential pretty thing that had been gifted to her, but had instead grown into his role here and thus felt comfortable enough to tease and prod.

In fact, as the days passed and they spent more time together, he turned downright annoying, at times, whining about how cruel silver was to his skin—did she know that he was one sixty-fourth fae? How it itched so—but gold didn’t go as well with his complexion, and really, he should be wearing sapphires, not rubies, since they brought out the blue of his eyes better…

Yennefer tolerated it with confused amusement for all of one day before she took his suggestion and found ways to occupy his mouth, just so that the inane chatter would stop.

She was almost disappointed when the day that Geralt would return drew near. She looked forward to his triumphant return, of course, but she was apprehensive of how he would react to her getting so close to Jaskier in his absence. She was lucky that she didn’t have to contend with jealousy from him—he simply wasn’t the type—but nor did she want him to distance himself from her, afraid of intruding on something new.

And though she’d succeeded, for the most part, at distracting herself from his absence, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that still came over her at odd times when she thought of him. He was plenty capable; there was nothing to worry about, she knew, and yet that didn’t stop her traitorous heart.

As the days passed, however, with no sign of his imminent return—not even a letter—she knew her worry was well-founded. On the second day of the new month—two weeks since she’d last seen him—she resolved to ride to the border with all the forces she could gather.

Jaskier worried at her departure—“My lady, you would leave the palace so defenseless?”—but she would not be swayed.

“You’ll be fine. The city can protect itself; you need not worry about a thing.”

“It’s not myself I worry for,” he replied flatly, a moue of displeasure overtaking his face. He didn’t grace her bed that night, and she resolutely told herself she wasn’t bothered.

The sun rose early, and she with it, saddling her horse and donning her armor. The air held a chill, heralding the coming of autumn, though it was unusual so early in the season. As the morning mists in the fields began to burn off, she and her forces rode out, heading south.

They were scarcely a mile away from the palace when she spotted something on the horizon. She called them to a halt, sending ahead scouts to report on what the disturbance was. They returned in short order, shouting joyously—Knight Geralt was returned, unharmed, though he’d lost his men in the interim.

“Yen,” he greeted her warmly, pulling short his ill-tempered mare as he approached. She seemed especially ornery today, hardly responding to his commands, but Yennefer supposed that after weeks on the road, she would be ornery too. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You should be,” she answered, but couldn’t maintain her anger for long, not upon seeing him safe and whole. “What took so long? And where are the men who accompanied you?”

He frowned. “They’re not back yet? I’d thought they’d arrive first.”

“No, we’ve heard nothing since you left. What happened?” It was unlike Geralt to leave his men behind—his sense of chivalry demanded otherwise.

“It wasn’t bandits at the border—it was Rivian insurgents making trouble. Easy enough to mop up, but in the fight, I got separated. Ended up having to lay low for a few days in Spalla. I gave the men instructions to return to Vengerberg if anything went wrong.”

“Do you think they’re still out looking for you?” Damned loyalty. While she valued it, it often proved to be quite the pain in difficult situations.

“Could be. We ought to send another team out, round them up.” She was grateful that he didn’t suggest going back to look for them himself—she would have expected that from him, stubborn as he was, but she wasn’t ready to lose him again so soon.

She motioned over the captain of her guard, Ivenka. “Take your best fighters and track down our poor wayward soldiers.”

“Yes, my lady,” Ivenka replied. The party split; Yennefer and Geralt led the rest of the forces back to Vengerberg.

Upon their return, Jaskier launched into a rousing song of victory—if he was surprised to see them back so soon, he didn’t show it. Geralt bore the attention as he always did, with an uncomfortable grimace. Once the commotion settled, Yennefer pulled Geralt into her rooms for a full report on what he’d found at the Rivian border.

“The talk of insurgence was right. A resistance has formed, with more support than we thought. King Reginald had more friends than we knew.” Geralt delivered the bad news with no inflection, which was how Yennefer knew it was a grave matter indeed.

“A resistance? How strong would you say? Have they any support from the commonfolk?” That was how battles were won, Yennefer knew—it all depended on the attitude of the peasantry. If their favor had shifted against her, they could expect full-blown war within the year.

“Not yet, though they’ve changed the minds of a few. More than anything they’ve sown dissent—talk of crop shortages, of trade disturbed. Trying to make you out to be just as bad as Reginald.”

Yennefer cursed. “We need to head this off before it grows any worse.”

“Parley? They might be open to discussion—this incursion may have been a way to get our attention.”

Yennefer nodded. “Send a messenger at once,” she instructed.

Geralt inclined his head in acquiescence and left her to her thoughts.

He had been right about the coming rebellion—was he also to be believed about the rumored attempts on her life? She would have to keep her guard up.

They received the Rivians a few nights hence at a banquet, meant as both a display of wealth and numbers. The entire court was assembled, and the visiting party arrived wide-eyed and trying to hide it.

Yennefer herself was seated upon her throne in full gilded plate armor—everything but a helmet. Geralt stood beside her, arms crossed, a scowl writ upon his face, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. And on her other side, draped across the arm of the throne, was Jaskier, in his finest jewels and with a full face of makeup, not looking even a bit vulnerable though he wore almost nothing.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” the man leading the visiting party said, inclining his head in lieu of a bow. Beside her, Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “I am Gudros of Scala, and accompanying me are Velah of Hawksburne and Ozrias of Scala.” He gestured to the two behind him, who had so far stood silent and still, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets.

“Vengerberg welcomes you,” Yennefer announced. “You may partake of food and rest from your journey. Once you’ve had your fill we may retire for more formal talk.” Gudros bowed his head again, and the feast resumed.

“I don’t like this,” Geralt murmured, barely audible over the voices and instruments overlapping in the hall. Yennefer glanced up at him—he looked torn, lips pursed and hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

“Keep an eye on them for me?” she replied. He nodded and slipped away—Yennefer looked forward to his report on what they were saying.

She was so intent on watching the Rivians that she hardly noticed it when an attendant approached with a tray carrying goblets of wine. “Milady,” he greeted, offering her a glass. She reached out to take it, but was beaten there by Jaskier, who snatched it out of the attendant’s hands before she could.

He grinned cheekily at her—this was almost too bold. She’d have to put him in his place later tonight. But she let him have it and reached for her own goblet, just as Jaskier took a sip of the wine.

The smell hit her nose as soon as she raised the glass to her lips. It was hardly detectable, but she’d learned a thousand and one ways under King Demavend’s reign to brew poisons—she recognized instantly the characteristic sour odor it held, the way it slid, oily, down one’s throat, the way it burned from the inside out.

She threw the goblet to the floor, heedless of the way that it shattered into a million pieces. “Geralt!” she screamed, wrenching Jaskier’s goblet from him—though it was already falling from his stiff fingers, his eyes bulging and his face reddening in mere moments.

Geralt appeared at her side instantly, as if he’d never left. Seeing Jaskier in trouble, he threw the consort over his broad shoulders and followed Yennefer as she fled to her old workshop—Goddess willing, she would still have enough ingredients to prepare an antidote, though it had been years since she’d set foot there.

The doors flew open under her hands, dust swirling about the room and cobwebs shuddering in the sudden breeze. Yennefer drew on the spark of chaos buried deep inside her, hardly used, but called forth in full force now. The torches flared to life at once, jars and pots flying off the shelves into her hands.

Geralt laid Jaskier down on the worktable in the middle of the room, now wheezing and coughing, spittle flecking his lips. “Yen,” he tried to wheeze, but she paid him no mind. She needed every ounce of concentration to prepare the antidote, something she hadn’t done in years.

“Mistletoe… wartweed… ground lichen…” she muttered, adding each ingredient in turn. The potion began to bubble, a haze descending on the workshop as it released puffs of smoke.

“Yen, he's not breathing,” Geralt called, and she cursed, stirring faster. Finally, finally, the sickly shade of green gave way to a deep turquoise, and then a solid blue. She rushed to Jaskier’s side, forcing his mouth open with one hand and pouring the antidote down his throat.

He convulsed, and, sensing that he was about to spit it up, she clamped his mouth and nose shut, putting her full weight into holding him down as his limbs juddered and jerked. But with no other choice, he eventually swallowed, his throat spasming under her harsh grip, and then he went abruptly lax.

She took her hands away, letting him breathe—it was a long, tense moment of waiting before he took an easy breath, no wheeze present. Yennefer breathed too, the tension lifting from her shoulders.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. His gaze flitted around the room for a moment, landing first on Geralt and then on herself. “Yen,” he said urgently, struggling to sit up. “You’re alright?”

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “I’m not the idiot that drank poison.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he sighed. “I mean, I had a suspicion, but I didn’t want to die for nothing—”

Yennefer froze. “You had a suspicion?”

“Well, yes,” he answered, frowning. “I highly doubted the Rivians were here under good intentions, and as Geralt has been saying, an attempt on your life was bound to come sooner or later, so—”

“You knew it would be poisoned, and yet you drank anyway? Why the fuck would you do that, Jaskier?” She dug her nails into the tabletop, itching to wring them around his neck.

What sort of fool would knowingly drink poison? Only the braindead or suicidal, and while Yennefer did hold his sanity in question at times, it still didn’t make sense.

He blinked. “Do you really have to ask? It’s as I’ve told you a thousand times in a thousand ways.”

No. No, he couldn’t mean—

“I love you, Yennefer of Vengerberg. I would, in fact, die for you, as we’ve proven.” He grinned. “Don’t say I never live up to my promises.”

While, yes, he’d said as much before, it still stunned Yennefer to hear it said so blatantly, and with such tangible commitment. She’d thought them pretty lies, the fanciful words of a jester that wanted only to flatter his lord.

Unable to come up with a response, she turned and fled. If she stayed in that room, she might end up saying or doing something she would later regret—whether that was wring his fool neck or have him right there on the table, she would never know.

So caught up was she in whirling thoughts of truth and lies, she didn’t notice Geralt was following her until she was nearly to her rooms. “I don’t want company right now, Geralt,” she said tersely, whirling around.

“We need to talk,” Geralt replied, stepping closer. “The Rivians—”

“Leave me alone!” she snarled, which was enough to make him pause, giving her time to dart into her rooms and slam the door behind her. She locked them with a fierce finality, relishing the heavy click that signified she was alone with her thoughts. She pressed her back to the door and her hands to her eyes, seeing the stars that burst behind her eyelids from the pressure.

If she could have but a moment to think, to sort out the mess of thoughts churning in her mind—but no, even now, she could hear raised voices, shouting, the clang of steel on steel. What kind of leader was she, cowering in her rooms like a confused animal, simply because of an ill-timed, unexpected confession of love?

She straightened her armor and drew her swords before opening the door and heading out to face whatever chaos lay in wait. As she grew closer, the voices grew more panicked, and she hurried her steps along until she was nearly running.

Jaskier came stumbling out of her workroom, looking worse for the wear and confused, searching for the source of the commotion the same as she was. “Go lie down,” she snapped. “I just saved your life. I don’t need you undoing all my hard work.”

“But what’s happening? Where’s Geralt?” he asked, craning his head. Then he spotted the swords she carried. “What do you need those for?”

She started to reply, and then—

An explosion. All-consuming, fiery hot, ripping her eardrums apart. She flew backwards and hit the wall, stunned. Through blurry vision, she saw Jaskier tossed like a ragdoll, slumped opposite her, bleeding from the temple.

Her ears were ringing; she blinked. Chunks of stone rained down on her like hailstones, a fine white powder covering everything in a thin layer of dust.

Slowly, slowly, her vision stabilized and her hearing began to return—the first thing she heard were screams.

Her people—she had to help her people. She tried to struggle to her feet, but it was as if her limbs were encased in plaster. She looked down and saw that a large chunk of stone was pinning her legs to the ground—with monumental effort, she lifted it off herself, grunting. She closed her eyes and breathed, in, out, and then staggered upwards.

She checked on Jaskier first—he had a head wound, bleeding profusely, but nothing more serious than that. She clumsily slapped his cheeks a few times until he roused, groaning, eyes squinting shut.

“Are you alright?” she shouted, her own voice hardly reaching her ears. He nodded, eyes still closed, and she left him to recover. Staggering into the hall, she took in the sight before her—it was as if a bomb had gone off, and maybe it had.

The entire hall was bathed in sepia-toned light, the torches guttering in and out in the wake of the blast. Chunks of stone and broken pieces of furniture littered the floor, which had fallen through to the dungeons below. To her surprise and immense thankfulness, there were few bodies—perhaps they’d had advance warning and had fled, screaming.

Four people stood in the middle of it all—she recognized Gudros, flanked by Ozrias and Velah. The fourth had hair as white as bone—“Geralt?” she called, and he slowly turned around. Wrong, wrong, wrong, all her senses screamed.

“Not quite.” He laughed, a chilling sound, unlike Geralt’s own rare laugh in every way. She knew then—this wasn’t Geralt. This hadn’t been Geralt for a good while.

“When?” she asked, though she knew exactly when. It had been that damned trip to the border. “Who are you? Really?”

“We are the rightful leaders of a free Rivia, and we would see her prosper once more, no longer under your bloody banner!” Gudros cried. “You have bewitched Rivia’s citizens. We’ll not see you reign any longer!”

“I’ve bewitched no one,” Yennefer snapped. “If you speak of your loyal knights turning against you—that was your king’s own doing, with his wicked deeds and cruel heart.”

“No! Geralt of Rivia was a good man—we’ll break whatever spell you’ve placed on him, right after we parade your desecrated body through the streets!”

Not-Geralt smiled, all teeth, and dropped the illusion—suddenly, he had changed forms, and now appeared as Yennefer herself. “You’re a doppler,” she said, teeth gritted. “What stake have you in this fight?”

“I’ve lived a long life, you know. To tell you the truth, I’ve grown rather bored with it—and what better game to play than this?”

“You’re sick,” Yennefer spat. “You’ve aligned yourself with murderers and oathbreakers.”

“Would you have me align myself with you, Kingslayer?” the doppler purred. “I see it all, you know—I’m in your head. I see how you kill, and lie, even to yourself.”

With a wordless yell of rage, Yennefer threw herself at the doppler, who met her swords with a sword of its own. It was an even match—perfectly even, with all her skill as a fighter reflected back at her. And with the other three Rivians advancing, it looked to be a quick end for her.

Her people would die, and Jaskier would be captured and most likely enslaved, and Geralt would remain captive to those who believed him brainwashed, subject to tortures as they attempted to break whatever enchantment they believed lay over him. And she would be brought up as an example, her dead body held up to the world to say: this is what happens to those who fight back.

She dodged the first swipe of Gudros’ sword, but it left her open for the doppler to press her back, putting her off-balance. Her foot caught on a chunk of rubble and she teetered backwards, falling to the ground, the doppler pouncing on her at once.

“Here lies the Raven Storm; blustered herself out, little stronger than a gust of wind at the end,” the doppler cackled. Yennefer looked into its eyes—her eyes—and braced herself for the end.

And then a chain looped around the doppler’s neck, choking, burning. The skin beneath the silver links smoked and cracked, blackening, the doppler’s hands scrabbling uselessly at the chain and burning too.

Yennefer looked up to see Jaskier standing tall behind the doppler, one of his many decorative body chains in his hands, his face creased in furious fierceness. Yennefer pushed the doppler off of her, rolling to the side just in time to avoid yet another blow from Gudros. She yelled inarticulately and stabbed upwards, piercing his gut through. Without bothering to check if he was dead, Yennefer turned to Velah and Ozrias, both of whom were advancing on Jaskier, swords drawn.

“Behind you,” she shouted, and he ducked a swipe meant to behead him. She darted over and shoved Velah away with a kick to the side, and in the same motion brought her sword up to parry Ozrias’ next strike. Behind her, she heard the doppler let out a guttural noise and collapse—hopefully dead—and out of the corner of her eye she spotted Jaskier trying to avoid Velah’s wildly swinging sword. He barely dodged the last one, and earned himself a neat score along his cheek, blood pouring forth from the small wound.

Luckily, Ozrias proved to be a rather weak swordfighter, and she killed him with a swift dodge and counterattack, cutting off his head in one swift motion. She threw herself in between Jaskier and Velah just in time, handily disarming her while Jaskier cowered and yelped behind her.

Pointing her sword straight at Velah’s throat, Yennefer demanded, “Where is he?”

Velah threw her hands up. “He’s in Spalla. Please, don’t kill me.”

Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “You hurt what’s mine.”

“Please, mercy—” She didn’t finish; she was dead before her body hit the floor. Mercy granted her a quick death, but nothing more. Not after kidnapping her right-hand man, her lover, not after bombing her palace and killing her people, not after hurting Jaskier.

Jaskier took in a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Whoo. That’s enough excitement for me, I think. I need to sit down,” he said, and sat down right there in the middle of the wreckage.

Yennefer busied herself with cleaning her sword. “So you don’t want to come to Spalla with me?” she asked casually, and he sprang back up to his feet—albeit shakily.

“No, no, I’m in! Someone has to write sweeping songs of your victories there.” He paused. “Just, maybe, a moment to catch my breath? I’ve never really—ah—never had to fight for my life before. Never killed anyone, either. I think my body might be shutting down?” he squeaked, sinking to his knees. “My—my heart is beating so fast, gods, and my hands feel all tingly, and I’m shaking—”

“That’s the adrenaline,” Yennefer answered, kneeling down as well. “It will pass.”

“Good. Because this—well, is this what you feel all the time?” He looked up at her, a dawning sort of respect in his gaze.

She shrugged. “You get used to it eventually. But yes, more or less.”

“Color me impressed, then.” As they spoke, the color began to return to his cheeks, and his frantic breathing slowed, and his shaking died down. “Alright. I’m feeling better, I think.”

“Good,” she echoed, sheathing her sword and helping him up. “Because now we ride for Rivia.”

“To Rivia,” he repeated. “Hey, do you think Geralt will be impressed? Bet he’s never killed a doppler before.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” she replied, but couldn’t hide the small smile that graced her face.

Her palace was in ruins, and Geralt had been kidnapped, and they were about to go to war with Rivia for the second time, but somehow she knew—it would be alright.

#the witcher #geraskefer #yenskier #yennskier #yenralt #geralt #jaskier #yennefer #warlord au #accidental warlord au #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #in the rare event that i write more ask to be tagged

45 notes · View notes

taxicabinmemphis · 4 years ago

Note

I don't care what ship but give me a fic where two characters are interacting and one notice that oh my goodness their eyes are so pretty oh no they're so pretty oh no

tw swearing, making out (if it’s not making out and just kissing I’m sorry I have no idea how kissing works all I know is they’re in love mmkay)

post fwsa

The excitement of the day's events had yet to wear off. While Roman was much calmer than before, he was still giddy and happy. He had sunk out with Virgil to give Thomas time to fill in the other sides without Roman and Virgil interfering with their then-uncontrollable excitement. Now, they were in the mindscape commons.

Virgil fell on the couch. He maneuvered himself into a sitting position, immediately putting his head in his hands.

Roman laughed, sitting beside him. "You alright, Virge?"

"Alright?" Virgil asked incredulously, lifting his head from his hands a fraction of an inch. He made a noise too positive to be a scoff and let his elated open-mouthed smile show clearly on his face. "I'm fucking fantastic!"

Roman's heart stopped. He finally noticed Virgil's eyeshadow. It was purple, not black. A brilliant, glittering purple. And oh, stars above, was Roman gay.

He could only manage a short laugh in response, eyes still trained on Virgil.

The eyeshadow didn't just make Roman gayer, it brought out Virgil's eyes. Roman decided then and there that he could drown in those eyes for all eternity and call it an honorable death. Virgil's chocolate brown eyes, previously shadowed by the pitch-black eyeshadow, were now showing their unfathomable beauty to Roman in a way he was unsure if he could handle. He was torn between wanting to stare at them for the rest of his life and wanting to never have to look at and be caught off-guard by those eyes again. He was leaning towards the former because he knew it would be impossible to avoid seeing Virgil's eyes again, and now that he knew of all the heavenly wonders they held, he wouldn't be able to ignore their beauty, even if Virgil went back to black eyeshadow.

Despite being a prince and a warrior, Roman couldn't find the strength to look away. Any worries of Virgil taking notice of his staring either weren't there or were too far at the back of his mind for him to register their existence.

Virgil's laughing started to awkwardly cease. "What is it, Roman?"

Roman's trance was interrupted, the confused look on Virgil's face finally registering in his brain. He lifted his head a bit and blinked animatedly three times in succession, running over Virgil's question in his mind multiple times to make sense of it.

"Is something wrong?"

Roman finally realized that this was a result of Virgil noticing his staring. Wherever those anxieties were when he was entranced, whether it be in the back of his mind or nonexistent, were now loud and clear at the front of his brain.

"Oh! Uh...no. No. Nothing is wrong," Roman said, words speeding up as he spoke. "Everything is fine and nothing bad or out of the ordinary is going on."

Virgil looked unimpressed. "Seriously. Is there, like, something on my face?"

Roman opened his mouth to mention the eyeshadow but realized the eyeshadow was black again. Roman frowned.

"No..." he said pensively. "No, there isn't."

Virgil gave him an unreadable look for a moment, as if waiting for him to continue.

"Alright, what's up?"

Roman blushed at his forward tone, scratching the back of his neck. "Nothing, you just...your eyeshadow was...um...purple."

Virgil's eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "Was it? Huh."

"Yeah...."

Virgil suddenly looked worried. "Is there something wrong about that? I'm so-"

"No!" Roman exclaimed quickly, covering his mouth the second the word had escaped it. He had been a bit too loud. "Um...no. No, it was fine. Quite nice, actually."

Virgil blushed at that. "Oh, well...thanks. I think."

Roman almost swooned—Virgil looked so cute with a blush adorning his features and a cautious smile on his face. His eyeshadow may have been back to black but now that Roman had seen the figurative light, he was noticing just how stunning Virgil was. Of course, he'd vaguely acknowledged Virgil's attractiveness before, but this, especially with the pure ecstasy he was radiating, this was a whole new level. This realization was different.

Roman didn't know much about what he was feeling at that moment, and the only thing that seemed to be clear was his incredible desire to sweep Virgil into a passionate kiss.

"Roman...you're still staring," Virgil observed nervously. "Are you sure it's just that? Have...have I done something?"

Roman's face immediately fell into sympathy. "Oh, my darling, no. You have done nothing wrong, nothing near it."

Virgil blushed, likely at the pet name. "Then why are you staring?"

"Sometimes I can't help but appreciate beauty," Roman said thoughtlessly, "and your eyes, mi corazón, outshine all the jewels on Earth."

Roman wasn't exactly known for thinking before he spoke. This was a prime example of this, and of the immediate regret that typically followed. Roman hadn't meant to be that forward. He'd likely ruined everything he had with Virgil for forever.

Virgil's face was aflame. He put his head in his hands. He flipped his hood up and Roman could hear a muffled scream from within the fabric.

Well, there was no going back now. If he backtracked, he'd only make things worse. So, he rolled with it.

"What are you doing? While I know they are your eyes and you can do with them what you wish, I'm really hating being deprived of my view."

Virgil screamed again, higher.

"Are you alright, my dear? Is there anything I can kill for you to relieve you of your anguish?" Roman asked in concern.

A minute of silence passed, and Virgil slowly removed himself from his hoodie. His cheeks were still redder than Roman's sash, but he seemed to be in a place where he wasn't going to scream anytime soon.

“I’m okay,” Virgil said slowly, the words leaving his mouth over enunciated and like he didn’t believe what he was saying.

“That’s wonderful, Stormy Knight! However, it would be an honor to kill something in your na-”

Virgil grabbed Roman’s collar and pulled him closer, before putting another hand on his chest and leaning him backwards slowly. Roman was now blushing up a storm, looking up at Virgil weakly as he was taken off-guard and no longer had anything to say.

So, he started rambling. “I-Virg- um...I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined things. I just said something without thought, you know how I am, and I went with it ‘cause I didn’t wanna worsen th-”

“Are you gonna kiss me or not?” Virgil growled harshly.

Roman’s words cut off and he looked into Virgil’s eyes, shocked and alarmed. He noticed that his anxious side had his hypnotizing eyes set on Roman’s lips. Roman gulped in worry and in discomfort at being looked at in such a way, but managed to stumble out a response.

“I...I mean... if, um, if you’re offering...”

Virgil crashed his lips against Roman, sending his back to the couch cushions and Virgil properly on him.

The kiss was passionate, searing, and had a fire so hot that no star could compare. While Roman might’ve been oblivious of his feelings for Virgil until a short while ago, this had clearly been building up for a long time.

When they separated, they were both panting and were staring at each other like there was nothing else in the world.

Roman smiled slightly.

“What?”

“Your eyeshadow...it’s purple again.”

Virgil smiled in return, before returning his lips to Roman’s.

That was so weird I’m sorry I have no idea how kissing works. They’re just in love, okay? I’m sleep deprived and have to go to math tutoring in ten minutes so please bear with me. I hope you liked it! Sorry these prompts are taking so long, I just have school as well as limited motivation and three ongoing wips.

#prinxiety #ts fanfic #roman sanders #virgil sanders #romantic prinxiety #fic #prinxiety fic #roman #virgil #prompt #somehow-i-got-an-account #i'm sorry for the intensity at the end i just...i have no excuse #ts roman #ts virgil #i'm finally publishing something yay #post fwsa #kill writes

317 notes · View notes

lucyjay · 4 years ago

Text

Silver (b.bh)

||You and Baekhyun have been friends for the past couple years. What happens when you both develop feelings for each other but no one has the courage to admit it?

Genre: smut (a bit of fluff)

Warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, teasing, unprotected sex ( balloon your baboons fellahs), dirty talk, oral sex, fingering, cum play, throat fucking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms

Words: 6.5k

You throw a final look at your reflection in the mirror and sigh. I look like shit, you think to yourself and make your way to the bathroom to finish straightening your hair. The last thing you are in the mood for is clubbing but guess who won’t take no for an answer?your friend Nat who borderline blackmailed you into either joining her and your friends tonight or finding all your embarrassing high school photos displayed on your insta tomorrow morning.

After managing to make your hair not look like you got out of a cat fight, you put on some make up which for you consists of 3 simple steps. Step 1, hiding the black shopping bags that jewel your under eyes, Step 2, some blush so that you don’t resemble a ghost and Step 3, mascara. The final result looks better than you anticipated when you started getting ready over an hour ago.

A simple black baggie-t’shirt style dress, a pair of black boots, your straight hair naturally hugging your shoulders, falling all the way down to your waist and last your make up which thank god hides the fact that you’ve worked a total of 60 hours this week. It’s a nice, fresh spring night and you reckon you’d be okay without a jacket on. You throw your keys, phone and credit card in a small bag and make your way out of your apartment. Your find your uber already waiting for you outside the main entrance of the building, you jump in and decide to give your friend a call to check if they are already at the club.

“Hola”, her high pitched voice makes you chuckle, she still sounds like a 5 year old girl just like when you first met her.

“Hola. Sooo, I’m on my way, I should be there in like 20′ max. Who else is coming? Please tell me Sehun and Taeyong will be there? Taeyong promised he would make time if i joined you”, you protest already used to one of your best friends, Taeyong canceling on you lastminute.com because of work.

“They are already with me babe and we should reach the club in 10′ or so. Sara and Jaebum are coming as well, Bam is DJ’ing, oh and ahm”, she pauses and your heart starts racing subconsciously knowing what she is about to say. “..Baekhyun is coming”. You swear at her for not letting you know earlier and she mumbles apologies which leave you completely untouched.

“Nat, you did it on purpose”, you try to keep your tone calm only because your uber driver is already giving you some “lady keep your voice down” looks through the rear mirror.

“I didn’t but even if I did so what? We are all friends and it’s completely childish of both of you to put us in a position where we have to go out with each of you separately. Bam is worried and Sehun is having abandonment issues”, she whines dramatically and you hear Sehun in the background screaming, “I just want my friends back, oh god, please”, a fake cry following his oscar-worthy performance as you hear Taeyong burst into laughter a bit further in the background.

“Ok ok! I don’t care. I’m done playing his little games anyway. I wanna drink and have fun. See you in a bit”, you reply and hang up. The uber has reached the city centre and your gaze in boring outside the window looking at the people and the buildings but not really paying attention to anything. All you can think about is him. How things have completely gone to shit when they were so promising. You and Baekhyun met a a couple years ago when he started hanging out with Sehun who he met at work. The latest then brought him into your group and he clicked with all of you straight away.

Fast forward to a a few months ago, you were at one of BamBam’s house parties chilling and chatting away when he confessed that he likes you and he has been into you since the day he met you catching you completely off guard. You, having been crushing on the boy since the moment you laid your eyes on him, did what no 26 year old, sane woman would do and just bailed. Literally left him there, drink in hand, mouth hanging open in shock and you just left the house, got inside a taxi and went home. You were so embarrassed over your reaction and disappointed in yourself for ruining the perfect chance to be with the biggest crush you’ve had since middle school, that you couldn’t even bring yourself to message an apology to him. A few days later you all met at a cafe and that’s when it started. He was so cold and sulky towards you and who could blame him? But he was overdoing it to the point that it started pissing you off. You couldn’t get him to talk to you alone and eventually managed to get you to not stand being with him in the same room. Every time you met since then, it was just a verbal war between the two of you, full of sneaky insults and hurtful jokes with a drizzle of swear words and some whipped sarcasm on top.

“It’s just one night out. How bad can it get?”, you whisper only for your own ears to hear you. The uber slows down outside the club, you thank your driver and step out of the vehicle, gently closing the door behind you. The queue for the club isn’t too long and you can spot Nat,Tae and Sehun waiting on the left side where the VIP queue is forming. Sehun waves at you eagerly and you make your way to their direction.

“At least she is wearing a dress and not pyjamas”, Sehun teases and lifts you up in a hug that made you almost gasp for air.

“I am overworked, not lame. I now how to dress for a night out”, you spit back faking annoyance and the younger boy raises his hands in defence.

“Tough week at work?”, Taeyong asks as all four of you walk towards the entrance of the club.

“Everybody decided to get married at the end of summer apparently, so considering that I have to organise 9 weddings within the next 4 months, I would say tough year.”, you pause and your eyes follow the direction Taeyong is looking at and...there he is. Locking his car dressed like a bloody model straight out of a Vogue photoshoot. Black jeans, loose blue shirt, a silk navy blue scarf around his neck and a pair of black boots. “...and it’s not about to get better”, you finish your sentence.

Him being ridiculously attractive should have been something you were used to by now, but you haven’t seen him in almost a month and in all honesty you almost forgot how easily he makes your entire body go numb just by standing there not even looking at you. Too lost in your own thoughts you haven’t noticed him standing next to you greeting the others, ‘till he turns his attention to you. His hair is silver. Fuck him and his ability to look good in everything. Fuck him and his gorgeous face, you think to yourself.

“Your hair is longer”, he says in the most indifferent tone. Is this his idea of a greeting? Asshole, you think.

“Your hair is bloody silver”, you reply, your eyes not leaving his. He serves you a slight side smile and you can feel the insides of your palms getting sweaty.

“Looks good doesn’t it?”, he throws a rhetorical question not really waiting for an answer. You tsk and roll your eyes at him while quickly turning to get inside the club. BamBam was near the entrance to greet you and show you which table he reserved for you and your friends. You follow him and he leaves you shortly after to go and prepare his station for his set next to the man currently DJ’ing.

“I’m gonna go get drinks, what do you want?”, Baekhyun asks the rest of you.

“Let’s just get a bottle”, Nat proposes and you nod. “tequila or Vodka?”, she asks.

“Tequila”, you and Baekhyun shout in unison and you turn to look at each other. Are the lights in here making him look even more attractive or is it just you being horny for him? You give yourself a mental slap.

“Tequila is good”, Sehun adds. Baekhyun makes his way to the bar and Nat moves to your side, leaning next to your ear so that she doesn’t need to scream on top of the music.

“Make a move”, she says and you almost choke on your own spit.

“Are you insane? Haven’t you been around lately? I guess not. Let me fill you in. In the last episode of Season 2, he hates me. End of story”, you reply and she chuckles.

“He doesn’t hate you. He is just still hurt by your reaction back then. And you are clearly into him. Like, it’s clear like the sun. Like, I can see you undressing him with your eyes. I could legit-...”

“That’s enough! I got your point”, you cut her off and really wish Baek could get his ass there already cause you swear you would love to down that entire bottle of tequila right now.

“Babe, talk to him. It’s a shame. You have had feelings for each other for so long. You can’t just..leave it.”, she says and her tone is soothing and understanding. You turn to look at her and nod causing her to smile widely and clap her hands like a little kid who just got her birthday gift. A minute later Baek shows up with two bottles of tequila inside a bucket and a waitress follows right behind him with a tray full of glasses and ice which she lays on your table.

A few drinks down and you find yourself relaxed enough to be dancing with Taeyong like there’s no tomorrow, rocking some crazy moves perfectly nsync with BamBam’s wild beats. Taeyong’s hands are on your waist and you rest your head on his shoulder, your back against his chest as you sing every single lyric of the song currently blasting.

“I need another drink”, he screams over the music. You nod and make your way to the table where you find Nat and Sehun talking to Jaebum and Sara, a couple Nat met whilst on holidays in Japan, who happened to be from the same city as the rest of you. You chat with them for a few minutes, sipping on your drink when you realise you haven’t seen Baekhyun since returning to the table. After scanning the area around you, your gaze falls on Nat’s who mouths a silent “outside” to you, as if she has read your thoughts. You excuse yourself and make your way through the intoxicated crowd, eventually reaching the exit of the club. You step on the pavement and look up and down both directions to see if you can spot Baek. On the left side of the doors, a few meters away you can distinguish a frame that looks like him. You slowly make your way towards the man and after a few steps you can see his face clearer under the dull lighting the lamppost covers the corner of the street with. He was staring at the ground, cigarette in between his index and middle finger. You clear your throat and he turns to look at you.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t see you”, he says calmly, taking a puff of his cigarette, quickly letting a line of smoke out of his nostrils.

“You smoke”, you say and it’s more like a realisation and less like a question. Your stare drifts off of his face and down to his feet as if his shoes are the most interesting thing to you.

“Yes, got a problem with that?’, he turns to look at you and you raise your head to meet his eyes. You can’t read him. You never could. He looks unbothered yet sounds annoyed. It’s so frustrating and you swear at yourself for even thinking of approaching him. You scoff and turn to leave, sure that you’re clearly not wanted there.

“That’s the second time”, he says and his voice is low but you can sense a weak scent of irony lingering at the end of his word. You stop in your trucks and turn to face him.

“What was that?”, you ask.

“It’s the second time you walk away from me. There won’t be a third”, his statement catches you off guard but you’re not planning on letting him see the affect his words have on you.

“I suppose you came out here to get some air, I wanted to check if you’re alright but you’re clearly not up for a chat. Am I wrong for thinking that the best thing to do was to excuse myself?”, you regret the slight sarcasm in your words which was completely unintended. His attention lands on your face. There’s at least 2 meters distance between yourself and him but for some reason you feel like you’re suffocating. His presence is so strong that you can’t even think straight. Without taking his eyes off of yours, he throws his cigarette somewhere to the side and with two steps he is standing right in front of you. You can smell the smoke on him but it doesn’t bother you; his cologne in combination with his addictive natural scent are enough to make your head hazy. He shouldn’t be able to affect you like this.

“Excuses”, his voice comes out like a loud whisper and you feel embarrassed at how it makes your entire lower body go numb and the sensitive area between your legs pulsate. His stare is so heavy that it almost makes you feel small. He moves a bit closer to you and you can almost feel his body touching yours.

“Baekhyun, I’m...”, your voice fades out unable to complete the sentence. Your eyes still on his like magnets. You can’t see anything around you but him.

“Finish your sentence Y/N”, he says calmly. You gather all the courage you could before you allow the confessions that you have been battling all these months, come out. It’s so hard but you know you have to. You have to give it a shot.

“I’m sorry. For that day.”, you say and his features rest in a slight shock which only encourages you to continue.

“I’m sorry i left you like that and that I didn’t explain myself. I’m sorry that I never called you after what happened. But what I’m not sorry about is what happened afterwards. You were so mean to me and you refused to talk to me. Your behaviour was horrible and I don’t take back anything I’ve said to you every time we fought”. You swear your knees are about to give out and your breathing is so heavy that you can feel your chest rising and falling as if you were running. You heart beating in your head is making you dizzy and you pray that you won’t just faint right there and then.

“You don’t regret anything you’ve said to me all the times we fought?”, he asks and you feel a pinch of annoyance that this was the only part of your paragraph long monologue he chose to focus on.

“Nothing. You started every single fight”, your statement came out strong and your voice way too stable given your current state. You congratulate yourself in your head. As if that was even possible, Baekhyun steps even closer to you, now trapping you between his body and the wall. You can feel his torso pushing yours backwards only for the back of your waist to land on his right hand, his left one resting on the wall slightly brushing your cheek.

“I swear I would take you against this fucking wall just to shut this annoying mouth of yours”, his lips almost touching yours. You can feel his breath on your face and his words wake the butterflies in your stomach. You’re mad at yourself for feeling so weak under his stare. It takes you a few seconds to realise that you have been holding in a breath. You just stand there, frozen, eyes glued on his honey brown ones when the words roll out of your tongue without second thought.

“Why don’t you then?”, you speak in a low voice that even gives you goosebumps. Your boldness surprises him and he shakes his head.

“I shouldn’t. I-..”

“Excuses”, you cut him off and you catch him so off guard that if it wasn’t for you being an absolute mess right now, his shocked stare would have had you chuckling. He raises his hand to caress your cheek and the way his knuckles softly touch your skin makes your entire body shiver. He doesn’t allow you to let the sudden skinship action sink in when he tilts his head only to rest his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know what to do with you anymore. Please tell me Y/N. Just tell me what you want”, he pleads and the entirety of your body heat is now resting on your face. You have never seen Baekhyun like this, basically asking you to take the upper hand. You rest your arms on his and connect your hands behind his neck.

“I want you Baekhyun. I don’t even remember how it was not to want you.”, you inhale and the air entering your nostrils feels too hot “...let’s go back to yours.Or mine, I don’t care”. The moment you finished your sentence Baekhyun’s hand was on yours, already guiding you towards the direction of his car. He open the door for you to get in and a second later he jumps in the driver’s seat.

Baekhyun’s eyes are glued on the road and his grip on the wheal is strong. You take a minute to examine his side profile and your eyes linger on each of his beautiful features. His beautiful honey-brown eyes, his straight nose and his soft, pink lips that are currently pressed into a thin line as if he is trying hold back a river of words threatening to fall out. Your hands are resting on your thighs which you’re pressing together in a desperate attempt to ease the buzzing in your lower area. You are already so embarrassingly wet, even though Baek hasn’t even touched you, which makes you realise how wrong all your past partners must have been treating you. Not able to stand the distance between the two of you, you place your hand on top of his right thigh, slowly dancing your fingers up and down the area. He shakes his head, momentarily closing his eyes only to open them a second later. His stare is intense but you can’t read it properly.

“Babe...”, he says and your hand movement stops at the sound of the nickname. Feeling more aroused by the second, you bend slightly over so that your lips are brushing against his ear.

“What...babe?”, you tease and he grips the wheel with such strength that it looks like he is trying to break it in half.

“Finish your sentence Baek”, you continue and at this point you know you’re playing with fire. He turns to give you a look for a split second, his eyes filled with something unknown to you and a slight smirk is gracing his beautiful lips.

“Sit back properly, take off your underwear and open your legs.”, you’re looking at him, eyes wide open in shock. His habit of bossing you around would normally have you ignoring his ass, maximum serving him an eyeroll as a response, but now it’s different. Your brain hasn’t even had the time to comprehend the possible consequences of his request, when you find your hands slowly sliding the sides of your underwear down your legs. Before you manage to even speak a word, his slender fingers are caressing the inside of your thighs and you throw your head back, eyes shut in an attempt to keep yourself under control. His middle finger and index travel all the way to your sensitive area and you let out a low gasp when you feel them on your heat.

“Holy fuck...”, he says and inserts one finger inside your throbbing pussy. You moan out his name as his digit is hitting you exactly on the right spot and you can’t see it but there’s a victory smile resting on his lips.

“Baek wait...”, you try to complain but it’s in vain. He adds a second finger and while keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, driving almost at 150 km/h, he is steadily bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You turn your head to the side, your eyes linger on his frame when you start feeling a knot forming on the lower part of your abdomen. You gather all the strength left in your body to lift your arm and tangle your fingers with his silver locks, slightly pulling his head backwards. He hisses and fastens the tempo of his fingers, his palm now coming in contact with your clit. You know you aren’t going to last long. Your walls start pulsating around his skilful digits and the car stops at a red light which finally allows him to focus his attention on you for at least a few seconds.

“I can’t wait to feel you clenching around my dick baby”, he says and you can feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm.

“Does my baby like dirty talk?”, he teases you and you pull his hair a tad stronger than before.

“I want you to come before the light turns green, you have approximately..”, he pauses to calculate the other traffic lights at the crossing, “...10-15 seconds?”, he adds driving his fingers in and out your pussy at a frenzy rhythm. You can’t handle the tension anymore.

“Baek, I can’t-...”, you swear you could cry with all this tension gathered on your lower body. You’re so close you can sense your orgasm.

“9..”, he says, his eyes piercing yours.

“Fuck, no I can’t”, you close your eyes, trying to control your body. It’ll be too much, you don’t want to come here in his car.

“Open your eyes and look at me. 6″, he counts and you do as you’re told. His palm hitting your sensitive clit is sending vibrations all the way to your head and you swear you wouldn’t be able to spell out your own name at this moment if you had to.

“I’m so close, I’m- Baek please...’, you whine and you can feel your walls clenching like crazy, swallowing his fingers. He places his other hand around your neck, squeezing gently and you’re a goner. Your orgasm crushes through you like fireworks and you can’t stop yourself from grinding down against his fingers, greedily trying to ride the explosive feeling out.

“That’s my girl”, he flashes you a satisfied smile and removes his fingers from your pussy at once. You grimace at the loss of contact but you’re too occupied trying to gather your thoughts and get yourself together, to pay further attention. The car is already on the move and before you can fathom what’s happening, he is parking in front of a building. Your eyes feel heavy but only at the thought of what’s coming, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten again. Baek steps out of the car and opens the door for you. You take a second to put your underwear back on, and you step outside the vehicle likewise. He locks it and starts walking towards the entrance of the block of flats before you, his hand in yours as your steps shadow his. You walk up the stairs and stop at the first floor. He stands outside a door and takes out his keys to unlock it when he turns to face you for the first time since he had you coming all over his fingers in his car.

“Before we get in I need to tell you something”, he warns and his eyes are examining your face. You step closer to him, your arm brushing against his.

“What is it Baek?”, your voice sounds so sweet and the way you say his name has him melting.

“If we do this, there’s no disappearing in the morning. There’s no going back to how things were. If you don’t want to stay and if you don’t want to be with me, leave now. This can’t be a one-time thing for me. That’s not what I want.”, he takes a deep breath as if he just gave the most important speech of his life. Your mouth hangs open at his sudden confession and you feel a stink of guilt that you’ve made him so uneasy; scared that you would run away from him and disappear. You grab his keys and unlock the door which opens wide in front of you. You step inside his flat and turn your head to face him.

“Do you prefer eggs or pancakes for breakfast?”, you ask him while taking off your shoes. He steps in and shuts the door behind him. Walking backwards you start unbuttoning your dress, “...I prefer something sweet in the morning to be honest”, you’re teasing and you reach the last button. You take another step backwards and you can feel his eyes burning on you. He is following each step you take, mirroring your movements now taking off his shirt. You let the dark fabric of your dress fall down your body and pool around your ankles. Baekhyun stops in his tracks, half naked and the lust in his eyes could make you come right there and then. You are about to take another step backwards when he nods you negatively.

“Don’t move”, the words come out as a soft command and you listen, standing there only in your lace black underwear, looking at him basically begging him to do something. He hasn’t even kissed you. He is the only man that has given you an orgasm without touching you anywhere else, not even a peck on the lips. He takes his time roaming his gaze along your body, his eyes resting on your breasts a second longer.

“I want you to kiss me”, you let out before you realise the words leaving your mouth. He focuses his attention back on your face and your body is about to burst from the need to feel him closer in any way. He is slowly walking towards you while taking off his trousers, leaving his body now covered only by his black boxers.

“Your entire face is blushing, you’ve been squeezing your thighs together, your breathing is unsteady and you’re giving me blowjob eyes”, hie finishes his sentence when standing a breath away from you. “...you want me to do more than just kiss you baby”, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and he smiles. He is so infuriating standing there, laughing at the misery he has put you in. You can’t let him play you like this.

“If you think you can..-”

“Shut up”, he says and you can’t tell who initiated it but his lips are on yours, kissing and biting as if your mouth is the last source of air and he needs it to survive. His right hand finds purchase on your ass, squeezing tightly pushing you closer to his body and his other hand grabs the back of your head, deepening the kiss. You can feel your underwear sticking on your dump heat and you squeeze your legs together trying to give yourself some comfort. Baekhyun breaks the kiss, bringing his lips next to your ear.

“Is my baby wet?Again?”, he cooes and you wanna smack him across the face because he fucking knows you are.

“Yes I am, and if you don’t do something about it soon I’m gonna have to get myself off”, you lilt and turn to enter his room. It’s way cosier than you would have imagined, with a queen size bed in the middle. You seat at the edge of it and you open your legs as seductively as you can, covering the fact that they’re shivering in anticipation. He enters the room and his eyes are darker than before, his erection clearly visible through his boxers making your mouth water. You cock an eyebrow at him but he doesn’t move. That’s it, you can’t waste anymore time waiting for him to do something. You get up and get on your knees in front of him, removing his underwear with a single movement before you place your palm around his shaft.

“What the fuck Y/N”, he breathes out and his knees turn weak under your touch.

“I’m done waiting for you Byun. Took you 2 years to kiss me. I can’t imagine how long it’ll take you to fuck me”, he is about to protest when you lean forward, putting his dick in your mouth, your nose against his lower belly. His complain turns into a moan when he throws his head back, hands now landing in your hair, pulling slightly. Your lips move around his member, followed by your tongue, hand resting on his balls slightly massaging them. You lick a long stripe from the base of his dick, all the way to the end while pressing your lips around it and then release it with a slight ‘pop’. A string of saliva connecting your mouth with his tip. You open your eyes only to find his intense stare already on your frame, cheeks on fire and mouth agape in an attempt to inhale as much air as he can.

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look right now? I swear I would do anything, anything you want If I could only see you like this everyday”, his voice cracks at the last words and he is slightly releasing his grip on your hair. Your hand still working its way up and down his dick, you tilt your head onwards to give small kitty licks on his tip. You take his hand and while serving him a cheeky smile you place it so that his fingers are cupping the upper part of your neck, right under your jaw. It takes him a moment to understand what you’re thinking and when it hits him, he lets out a desperate breath. You move your chin in front of his dick, lips almost touching his slit currently dripping with pre-cum.

“Apologise for being an asshole these last few months”, you spit.

“Fuck you”. The moment the words slip his lips you open your mouth, taking him so deep that you can feel his tip touching the back of your throat. He moans out your name and you feel your pussy pulsating in the sound. It takes all the self control you can manifest in order to not sneak your fingers inside your knickers and relieve some of the tension.

“I can feel my dick down your throat baby, agh fuck”, he hisses and pulls your hair as you take him as deep as you can once again only that this time you keep him there, swallowing again and again with his dick buried as deep as your throat can take it. A tear rolls down your face and your gag reflex is threatening to kick in, but you refuse to let go before he begs.

“Fuck Y/N, please. please stop, I don’t wanna cum. Fuck please, don’t-”, you release him and you snap him your best victory smile. after whipping your mouth with the back of your palm. You get up and move towards the bed, this time laying on top of it.

“I think I prefer you begging than apologising”, you tease and an unintentional giggle follows.

“You fucking bitch”, he spits jokingly and you burst into laughter but it doesn’t last long. The next moment he is hovering on top of you, lips on yours, hands cupping every curve of your body unable to hold back anymore. He is devouring your neck, jaw and moves lower to leave dark marks on your breasts. In a swing movement he unclips your bra, throwing it behind him next to his long forgotten underwear. Your underwear is next and before you know it, his face is resting between your legs, blowing tiny waves of air on your heat, driving you crazier if that was even possible at this point. He plants small kisses around the area, next to your folds while his hands are massaging the inside of your thighs. Your head falls back to meet his soft pillow and you moan out his name, incapable of hiding the mess he has made of you. Without any warning his soft tongue crushes on your burning area, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your head is now a foggy mess, hands tangled between his silver locks unconsciously pushing him against your pussy, desperate for more friction. He rests his tongue on your sensitive bud of nerves, dancing in slow circles when he enters two digits in you causing you to let out the most animalistic moan you’ve ever heard yourself producing. Your reaction was the confirmation he was seeking, as his tongue picks up its pace and so do his fingers, his name rolls off your tongue like a cursed poem, again and again until you can feel yourself falling off the edge. He lands a last kiss on your pubic bone as he slowly climbs up your body, now hovering above you. You open your eyes, realising you had them wide shut all this time, only to find his beautiful brown ones staring at you in the most loving way you’ve ever had anyone looking at you.

“So pretty”, he whispers and his fingers linger on your lips and make their way to your cheek where he leaves a shy kiss. You can feel his dick between your legs, yours thrown around his waist and you just stay there, in silence looking in each others eyes. You bring your hand to the side of his jaw only to pull him closer, planting a kiss on his lips. It’s not deep; it’s soft, and sweet, almost romantic. You break it after a few seconds and you rest your forehead on his. A word is about to escape your lips when he frantically drives his length inside you, hitting your g spot so hard that you almost choke at your own gasp.

“Baek, fuck”, you whine. He doesn’t say anything, he only pulls out a little bit and then thrusts back in, hitting that sweet spot that has you seeing stars. He does it again and again and again and you are a moaning mess, head thrown back, his diving in the crook of your neck, sucking, bitting, leaving purple spots in every area he can get his lips on.

“You want me to stop?”, he says out of breath without slowing down at the slightest. You attack his lips and the kiss is nothing like the one you just shared a few moments ago. It’s hungry and desperate and your tongues are fighting for dominance, both your mouths swallowing each others moans. You can feel your pussy throbbing around his dick and you know you wont last long. Baekhyun breaks the kiss but stays close so that his lips can still touch yours.

“Are you close baby? You want to cum? Want to come all over my dick?”, he breathes out and you moan out his name, paralysed under his touch.

“Baek I’m close-I’m gonna..”, a circular move of his hips almost brings you to the brink and you moan out cusses with no meaning. You clench around him once more and he lets out a loud groan.

“Y/N If you do that one more time I won’t be able to hold back. Please”, he pleads and you can see that he is trying to hold back so that you can finish first. His dick fucking into you at a relentless pace has your arms pulling his body closer to yours, nails digging in his back and you know these scratches will be visible for next few days.

“Baek I can’t hold it, please”, you moan out.

“Let go baby, let go. Cum for me”, he whispers next to your ear and there’s nothing in the world you want more than to feel him painting your insides with his orgasm.

“Cum inside Baek, Please, cum with me, ah-”, your orgasm hits you mid-sentence and you clench again and again as it keeps attacking your body in waves. After a couple thrusts you can feel him releasing into you as he lets his body collapse on top of yours, both of you battling to calm your breathing.

“I blame you for missing on the best sex I’ve ever had for the past two years”, you tease him softly and he chuckles. You raise your hand to place a stray hair behind his ear and you can’t help but notice the slight rosiness on his cheeks. ‘what?’, you ask flushing him your warmest smile.

“Be mine?”, his lets out as he rubs his nose against the tip of yours. Your heart skips a bit and a wave of warmth crushes through you, for you haven’t felt so happy in a long, long time.

“Hm, nope, thanks”, you giggle and you kiss him. He is taken aback by your reply, staring at you with eyes wide open like a frightened deer caught in the headlights.

“I’m joking baby”, you spit and burst into laughter.

“You bitch”, he laughs.

239 notes · View notes