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bunny-jpeg · 2 months ago

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kink-o-ween - day twenty-three

max verstappen - filming/recording

tags: smut/pwp, filming/recording, dirty talk, established relationship, large chested!reader, use of red bull merch

a/n: thank you for the patience while i wrote these. managing my schedule better has helped greatly. thank you for all of the kind words, i hope that these (late) fics are as good as you hoped for <3

kink-o-ween master-list

your relationship with max verstappen was private. the most you had online was a casual picture of him on a private instagram account. you wished to keep it low-key. you naturally a private person, you didn't need a media circus because the person you chose to love was a well known and beloved racer.

max agreed, it was a piece of privacy that he could have. years of his life were heavily documented, someone could easily find photos of him at every stage of life. so to have something private, only for him, was a breath of fresh air.

and while your public presence was minimal, you both had a massive archive of private, intimate material of one another.

"i can't believe you're making me wear this. is your ego not big enough, my love?" you asked as you exited the washroom in nothing but a red bull branded t-shirt and hat. specifically his t-shirt and hat with the number '1' plastered across it.

max sat up a little more in bed and felt his cock twitch in his tight briefs. his fingers reached for his phone.

you looked at him and crossed your arms, "is it that horrible?" you shifted from one side to the other, uncertain. the shirt wasn't long enough to cover your lower half so your lover got a good glimpse of your cunt.

"this is far from horrible. this is perfect." he swallowed, "can i take a picture?" his fingers itched for the phone, "i want to see this over and over again when i'm in texas."

you dropped your arms and placed your hands at your hips, "don't you already have a massive collection of photos?" then crossed the room towards him. your hands soon played with the bottom of the t-shirt.

max replied, "you know how people paint fruit over and over again, and it's never enough. that's me with you."

you giggled as you climbed into bed, "so you're saying i'm a bowl of fruit, mister verstappen?" then took him by the face to give him a heated kiss on the lips. he put the phone down and wrapped an arm around you for a moment.

when you pulled away and straddled his waist, he reached for the device once more. he then pushed up your shirt to expose your large breasts.

he angled the camera to you and snapped a few photos. he then licked his lips. he knew if his phone got hacked. there would be so many photos of you leaked online. from your first date to your first holidays together. and even your wedding. next to no one knew about that marriage, except family, two of his friends, and your best friend for university.

max made sure to get a photo of you holding up the shirt with your wedding ring on display. it excited him. his wife exposing herself to him. it was arousing as he snapped a few more photos of your sweet face.

"happy? you'll survive texas." you giggled as you put the shirt down your torso and straddled his waist further. but you weren't on top for long as mac got you onto your back and he stripped himself of his briefs.

"i can never get enough of you, my love." he chuckled, "i could fill my entire phone with photos of you and i'd still need another phone to take more photos." he palmed your breasts through the shirt and when his hat fell off your head, he placed it back onto you.

he took you by the waist and slowly sank his cock into you. he watched your expression change and he cooed at you, "my wife, my darling wife." his groaned got a little louder.

the stretch was perfect. and it made your own noises a little louder.

"i want you for the rest of my life or as long as you'll have me." he worked your pussy with heavy thrusts. he loved you, if he didn't, he would've never made a life with you. a private piece where you two could happily live.

he married you, he loved you. he planted his hands on either side of you as he got a better angle to fuck you with. the moans echoed through his head as he worked your beautiful cunt.

"please, max." you moaned as your nails dug into his strong shoulders. he was your champion, your lover, your husband. you could feel yourself grow sweaty in the red bull shirt.

he kissed your warm cheek, "you look so good in my kit. that number looks good on you." he joked as he laid another heated kiss onto you. he held the covers under him. his heart rate picked up as he fucked you. he could taste the pleasure on his tongue.

"mmm, maybe i should wear mclaren orange next time." you remarked and your husband fucked you a little faster.

"maybe my orange. dutch orange." he replied, "but not mclaren. never. not while i'm still breathing." he kissed you with a heated passion as the bed shifted under you. his strokes were heavy and it made your thighs tense up around around his waist.

after all this time, he still knew how to make you moan. how to make pleasure pool in your soul. comforting and familiar. pleasure was a heated affair between you two.

he leaned further against you and rutted upwards into you. the heat throbbed in his mind as he watched your body move with his. wearing his clothes, having his last name. you were perfect. his lovely wife.

with a bit of space between you two, he scrambled for his phone. he documented the sight of your body, how you looked in his t-shirt. he kept going at a steady pace and pressed against areas that left you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

he even captured a small video of his cock thrusting in and out of your slick pussy. your wetness made his cock soaked. he groaned, "that's my beautiful wife."

his words made your noises become more needy as you gripped onto the soft covers under you. you swallowed back the pleasure as to not get too loud. you then said, "fuck, you're perfect, max. my perfect husband."

he licked his lips and continued to work your hips. work his cock into your pussy. his length throbbed in you, he needed his beautiful wife, "i lucked out. you complete me. that's why i have so many photos of you. i need you in every way i can get you.' he picked up the pace and put the phone further onto the bed to really admire you without a screen.

"max."

he looked over you once more. his cock pressed against your softest parts. and you couldn't help but get louder. you couldn't deny yourself the pleasure anymore. it felt so good.

"please, max." you said loudly. your back arched, only your husband could make you feel this good. the kind of pleasure that left you awestruck.

"i'll always love you." he said as he put his all into it. your body moved with the force of his movements. you came quickly and a sweet noise left your lips and it made max ache for more. he ached for you. the thrusts continued as he felt the similar heat course through him. you felt amazing and soon after you came he finished as well.

he kept every inch inside of you as the pleasure clogged his brain.

"max."

"my lover, my everything." he said with love bubbling in his tone. he slowed to a stop before he pulled out, his face was flushed and his breathing was heavy.

you both soon ended up under the covers. you ditched the hat, but kept the shirt on at his request. your nipples poked through the fabric which made something rouse in your husband as he held you close.

he admired you while he was blissed out. it didn't take long before he felt so relaxed that he fell asleep, dozed off with soft snoring.

you played with his hair and held a smile for him. while he had a large collection of photos of you. you had the same with him. you reached over him to the nightstand to grab your phone. you snapped a photo of his sleeping face before you put it down onto the bed next to his and then kissed him on the lips <3

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azziesbattybaddie · 5 months ago

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You are my survival

Azriel x reader

You and Azriel are mates. Az knows it, you don't, that is until a particularly hard training session when the truth finally come out.

Word count: 5k

Requested: no

Warnings: fem reader, shadow play, smut, swearing, choking kink, praise, Azriel's wingspan, oral F and M receiving, Az is a Dom, PinV, we die like men

🔥 means smut will follow

Authors note: this is the first WIP I've finished in like 2 or 3 years so be gentle on me I also wrote this with one of my friends on discord and she is absolutely amazing, constructive criticism is welcome and plz let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy!

"Pay attention."

His words weren't harsh by any means. No, Azriel would never raise his voice at you, but he'd be lying if he said training you was easy. He watched as you breathed heavily, body glistening with sweat. You'd been at this for hours. Clearly, you'd underestimated just how difficult swordplay was.

"I'm trying my best"

He let out a small chuckle, watching your brows furrow with frustration as he managed to point his sword at your neck, Again.

"Gotcha."

"dammit!"

You threw your sword down in frustration and slinked over to the corner of the ring. Before hugging your knees to your chest and sulking.

"I'm done, I'm quit!"

Sheathing his sword, Azriel approached you slowly, his footsteps silent on the straw-covered floor. He stopped a few feet away, giving you space but close enough to offer comfort.

"Hey, hey now," he murmured softly.

"Don't give up just yet."

He hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside you, keeping a respectful distance.

"Training is hard, y/n. It's supposed to push you, make you stronger. It's okay to feel frustrated, but don't let it consume you."

He glanced at you, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"You're doing better than you think. You've improved so much since we started. It's just... progress takes time. And patience." He offered you a small, encouraging smile.

"And maybe some water? You've been at it all day."

"yeah well maybe I should train with someone else because your a thousand times better than me and you have 400 years of experience on me so even if I am getting better your skill just dwarfs mine..."

Azriel looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. He had expected such a reaction from you, and he couldn't say that he blamed you either.

"You underestimate yourself," he told you gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"It may take time, but you will get there. Just keep practicing and if you can't believe in yourself, believe in the fact that I'm starting to feel your progress in your punches." As always tried to joke with you slightly but seeing as he got nothing but a half earned smile he let himself fall quiet.

He sighed deeply, his gaze drifting down to his scarred hands fiddling with them idly. There were things he wanted to tell you, things he wanted to share about his past, but he knew you weren't ready for them yet. Maybe one day, when you were strong enough, he could tell you everything.

Following his gaze, you watched as he picked at his nails and cuticles. You had known Az for a few hundred years now and as long as you had known him he had never shared the story of his warped skin and you had never worked up the courage to ask, that was until now.

"can I ask you a question without you getting upset? You can tell me to screw off if you don't want to answer, I won't push." You said in a timid, whispered voice. Azriel turned to look at you, his expression curious.

"Of course, y/n. What is it?"

He kept his tone calm and non-threatening, not wanting to scare you off. Whatever it was, he would do his best to answer honestly.

"what happened to your hands?"

Azriel's expression softened, and he looked down at his hands, his fingers curling slightly as he remembered.

"My hands... They were burned by-" he let out a heavy sigh, flexing his hands under your gaze before continuing.

"they were burned by my brothers, many years ago. I was born a bastard like Cassian so I was treated differently, even by my so-called family. They it left me with these scars."

He lifted his hands, showing you the intricate network of burn scars that covered his palms and fingers. They were a constant reminder of his past, a painful chapter he would rather forget.

"what brings that question to mind?"

you reach to grab his hand but hesitated before touching him.

"I just always wondered if they were painful they still look painful..."He noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring nod, encouraging you to continue.

"It doesn't hurt anymore, physically at least. But sometimes, the memories can still be quite painful." He lowered his hands, his gaze returning to yours staying quiet for a beat.

"It's alright, y/n. You won't hurt me by touching them. I won't bite or as Cass would say 'i won't bite unless you want me too'" he says with a half honest grin trying to lift the mood slightly.

He held out his hand, palm facing up, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to show you that he trusted you, that he was comfortable with you touching him. "Go ahead, y/n."

you gingerly brushed your fingers over his scarred hand before taking one of his hands in both of your running your thumbs over the back before smile and saying softly

"They always looked soft still..."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he felt his face heat slightly at the praise. He never wanted to feel anything other than your gentle touch on his scarred hand.

"Because of the burns, my skin never calloused so yeah I guess they are."

He turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. The warmth of your touch seeped into his skin, soothing the old wounds in ways he hadn't experienced in centuries.

"I never associated touch with comfort before. It feels like home." ' you feel like home' is what he would have said if he had the nerve but kept that thought to himself, thinking it to cheesey to say out loud.

His thumb stroked the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes about the unspoken bond between you two. In that moment, the weight of his secrets and the darkness of his past seemed to fade away, replaced by a simple, pure connection with you.

you lifted your head to look at him only to find him already looking at you, your faces close enough to feel each others baited breaths.

Azriel's gaze locked onto yours, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a wild drum. The intensity of your stare was almost overwhelming, stirring feelings within him that he thought long buried.

He leaned closer, his lips inches away from yours. He could smell your scent, a mix of sweat and something uniquely you. It was intoxicating, making his pulse race and his resolve weaken.

For a moment, he considered closing the gap, pressing his lips against yours and losing himself in the warmth of your embrace. But he pulled back, breaking eye contact, reminding himself of the danger in such actions.

without thinking of the consequences of your actions you shot your hand out to cradle the side of his face turning him back to look at you and meet him with pleading look, begging him not to turn away.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hand cup his cheek, turning his face back towards you. He met your pleading gaze, his own eyes filled with a mix of longing and fear.

He wanted nothing more than to surrender to the desire burning within him, to lose himself in your embrace and forget about his past, his fears, and his responsibilities. But he knew he couldn't. Not yet, at least.

With a heavy sigh, he gently removed your hand from his face, his fingertips trailing along your skin as he did so.

"y/n, we can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I care for you too much to risk putting you in danger. We need to focus on our training, on becoming stronger, you need to be ready for when hyburn attacks."

your pout deepened as you moved back slowly pulling your hand away from his reluctantly as you bit your lip trying to think of something to say to make him change his mind.

"Az we can still train and I've been getting stronger for years, why can't we just," you trail off, not knowing that words for the feeling you felt for him.

Azriel's chest tightened at your pout, a pang of guilt slicing through him as he cut you off. He hated seeing you upset, especially over something he had done.

"It's not because I don't want to," he assured you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

"It's because I care about you too much. If I give in to these feelings now, it might lead to something neither of us is prepared for, not with so much at stake with war coming."

He paused, his gaze dropping to your lips before lifting back to meet your eyes.

"We're mates. I've known for a while but even though we were designed for each other. And right now with hyburn threatening to breach our borders, our lives and decisions can't be about love or passion-it's about survival"

you pull his face back to you for a last time before running the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly

"I know that az, but you are my survival. you said it yourself that your my mate, do you really think that I can live without my mate, without you?" You plead tears starting to form in your eyes.

The words hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless. Your admission cut straight to the core of his being, striking a chord within him that resonated with a depth of longing he didn't fully understand.

"You need my love..." he echoed, the words sounding foreign even to his ears. He'd never been loved, let alone needed. The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"I... I don't know if I can give you that. I've never been loved, and I've never loved anyone the way I think I should. you deserve all the love there is in this world, and I don't think I can give you that."

His voice cracked with emotion, betraying the turmoil of feelings welling up inside him.

"you can,"

You step closer still holding his face you pull a hand away to grab his scarred one and place it on your waist and putting your hand on his chest over his heart gingerly.

"You have so much love in your heart that you can't help but let it spill over. You try to act so cold and calloused to everyone but we all feel you how much you love us. "

At your touch, Azriel felt a surge of emotion course through him, his heart pounding wildly against your palm. He stared down at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of deception or manipulation, but found only sincerity and vulnerability.

"You really believe that, don't you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That I have love to give?"

He hesitated for a moment, then placed his other hand tentatively on your waist. The warmth of your body seeped into his chilled skin, melting some of the ice that had encased his heart for so long.

"I want to believe it," he admitted, his gaze dropping to your lips once more.

"But I'm afraid of putting you in a dangerous situation that you never need to be in. Afraid of losing control and doing something that could harm you. We both know that my work is extremely dangerous and if you got pulled into that I would never fucking forgive myself"

"Azriel... Your the bravest male I've ever met, please don't stop being brave." You take a final step faces inches apart

Azriel's breath hitched as you closed the remaining distance between you, your bodies nearly touching. He could feel the heat radiating off you, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

"Brave doesn't mean fearless, y/n," he said, his voice low and husky.

"Sometimes bravery means facing your deepest fears, even when every instinct tells you to run." You whisper gingerly brushing you fingers over his leathers laying over his heart.

He reached up, his fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he tilted your head back slightly. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, sending shivers down your spine.

"I'm just scared of failing you, of not being able to protect you. But I'm also scared of missing this chance, of letting my fears hold me back from trying to give us the life the cauldron has laid out for us."

"Then don't let your fears hold you back Az, let me hold them instead." You hold his hand over your cheek and guide his thumb over your lip again gently.

Azriel's resistance crumbled under your gentle guidance, his thumb gliding over your soft, plump lips with a tenderness that surprised even him. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours as he savored the scent of your skin, the warmth of your breath.

"cauldron..." he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

he closed the final inch of distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both tentative and desperate, holding your sides as delicately as fine china.

🔥🔥🔥

you surge you hand up to tangle in his hair and let out an audible cry of relief into his mouth.

Azriel groaned softly into the kiss as your hand tangled in his hair, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lips to explore the warm cavern of your mouth.

As he kissed you, Azriel felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a burden he hadn't realized he carried until it was gone. In your embrace, he found a sense of peace, of belonging, that he had never known before.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, panting lightly as he struggled to catch his breath. "Y/n, I've wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion.

"Wanted to hold you, touch you, taste you now."

"then don't fucking stop now." You practically begged, chasing his lips.

Your impassioned plea sent a jolt of desire through Azriel, his grip on you tightening as he ground his hips against yours, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.

"Oh, god, baby," he gasped, his breath hot against your skin.

"I won't stop, not now, not ever again." His hands trailing down to your ass, gently kneading the flesh under your fighting leathers.

"You're mine, and I'm going to fuck you so hard, make you scream my name until you forget everyone else exists."With that declaration, Azriel swept you up into his arms and winnowed you back to the house of wind before.

carrying you towards his bedroom as he devoured your mouth in a frenzy of kisses, his hands roaming your curves with a hunger that bordered on desperation. your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you and you press your breasts against his chest, mewl desperately against his lips.

The sound of your moans vibrating against his lips was music to Azriel's ears, fueling his already raging desire. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity as he laid you down onto the plush mattress.

"Gods, babygirl," he growled, his hands tracing the outline of your curves as he knelt beside you, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh. "You're so beautiful, so perfect..."

Without another word, he began to undress you, peeling away each layer of your leathers with a reverence that belied his usual cool demeanor. As he revealed your skin to his hungry gaze, he marveled at the sight, at the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the sweet dip of your navel.

"And you smell divine,"

Azriel couldn't help but lean down, his tongue darting out to trace a path along the delicate line of your collarbone, savoring the taste of your skin. He licked and nibbled his way down your body, pausing to lavish attention on each breast, his tongue swirling around your nipples before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.

His hands weren't idle either, slipping down to cup your ass, squeezing the firm flesh as he continued his descent. His shadows hooked around the sides of your panties, dragging them down your thighs with a teasing slowness that left you squirming beneath him.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered against your skin, his voice a husky murmur.

"What do you crave? Tell me how to make you come undone?"

you reached down to Palm the tent in his fighting leathers at the words and using your other hand to wrap the scared flesh of his hand around your throat.

"I want you to use me, own me Azriel."

At your command, Azriel's heart pounded with a wild rhythm, his cock throbbing in your grasp. He allowed you to control his movements, his hand tightening around your throat in a gesture that was both possessive and protective while one of his larger shadows gently brushed against the side of your face in stark contrast.

"You're mine now, babygirl," he breathed, his voice laced with raw need.

"And I plan to worship every gods-damned inch of you."

With that promise, he slid down further, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thigh, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. He paused just above where you needed him most, his eyes locking with yours as he teased you mercilessly.

"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice a seductive whisper. "Do you want my mouth on you, tasting you?"

"gods yes please!" You hold his hand tightly around his throat encouraging him to squeeze harder what you arch your back of the bed in hopes of inching your cunt closer to his mouth.

Azriel's grip around your throat tightened slightly at your eager response, his thumb applying just enough pressure to send a thrill of excitement through you. With a low growl, he finally gave in to your pleas, his mouth descending upon your dripping folds.

He lavished your pussy with attention, his tongue delving deep inside you as he fucked you with slow, deliberate strokes while flicks of dark swirl around your clit. He explored every inch of your sex, savoring the taste of your arousal, the feel of your slick walls clenching around his tongue.

As he ate you out, Azriel's free hand roamed your body, palming your breasts, pinching your nipples, leaving trails of fire and cold in its wake. He could feel your climax building, could taste your sweet submission on his tongue, and it only fueled his own desire.

"come on babygirl, ride my face while you come."

He brought one of your hands to tangle in his hair and wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs encouraging you to buck into his tongue.

Your hips bucked off the bed as you came hard on his tongue, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, your juices flowing freely as you cried out his name, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.

Azriel drank in your release, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as he savored the taste of your pleasure. He held you tight, his mouth never leaving your pussy as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, your cries of ecstasy music to his ears.

Only when you finally went limp did he release you, his face glistening with your arousal. He crawled up your body, his chocolate eyes blazing with a fierce possessiveness as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss.

"Now it's my turn," he growled against your lips, his hands tearing at his leathers to free his straining cock.

"Get on your knees, baby, I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours."

You eagerly roll onto your stomach and push yourself off the bed and onto your knees Infront of him batting your lashes and staring up at him with lust filled eyes.

Azriel watched you move, his heart pounding with a mix of desire and admiration. Your eagerness was intoxicating, fueling his own need even further. He discarded his leathers completely, revealing his veined cock, throbbing with need.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at the sight of you kneeling before him, your eyes filled with hunger and desire. He ran a hand through your disheveled hair, his fingers tangling in your locks as he guided your head towards his aching cock.

"Open wide, love," *he murmured, his voice thick with need.

"Show me how much you need me."

you took him into your mouth, Azriel let out a low groan, his hips bucking involuntarily. Your warm, wet mouth felt like heaven, and he had to fight the urge to thrust too hard, too fast. Instead, he set a steady pace, his hands guiding your head as you sucked the tip every time he pulled out.

"Fuck, good girl," he gasped, his grip tightening in your hair. "You fucking feel incredible..."You moaned softly as you took him deeper into your mouth working your tongue over his cock, your hands reaching up to cup his balls as you continue to suckle on his cock.

The sensation of your tongue working over his length, coupled with the feeling of your hands on his balls, sent jolts of pleasure coursing through Azriel's body. He watched you, entranced by the sight of your lips stretched around his cock, the sound of your soft moans vibrating against him.

"That's right, baby," he purred, his voice heavy with lust.

"Take all of me... Show me how much you want this..."

He began to move faster, his hips rocking into your mouth, setting a rhythm that had him teetering on the brink of release. His fingers threaded through your hair, urging you on, pushing you to take him even deeper.

"fuck yes! Good girl, just like tha- oh such fucking good girl!"

You moan louder now sending subtle vibrations down his shaft, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck harder on his cock, taking him deeper each time until he hits the back of your throat. You gag softly but quickly recover and continue sucking him off as if your life depends on it.

The feeling of your throat constricting around his cock was almost too much for Azriel to bear. He grunted, his hands gripping your hair tighter as he fucked your mouth with abandon, his hips snapping forward with each thrust.

"Oh gods, baby..." he groaned, his voice ragged with need.

"You're going to make me come so fucking hard..."

His cock throbbed in your mouth, signaling his imminent release. With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled his seed into your willing mouth, his cum coating your tongue and spilling down your chin.

"That's it... Swallow it all..."

Swiping your fingers over your chin you collect the molten cream and swallow every last drop of his cum, your throat working to milk him dry, your eyes locked on his as you gaze up at him with a look of complete satisfaction and devotion.

Azriel watched, transfixed, as your throat bobbed swallowing his cum, your tongue working to milk him dry. He let out a satisfied sigh, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as he admired the look of complete satisfaction on your face.

"You're amazing," he murmured, pulling out of your mouth and offering you a hand up.

"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did."

With a smile, he pulled you into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body as he savored the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

You lean into his touch, your body pressed tightly against his as you kiss him back just as passionately, your hands running over his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin.

Azriel dominated you mouth with a throaty moan, his hands exploring your curves with a growing urgency. He broke away from the kiss only long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

"I want more," he whispered huskily,

"but I think we should save some energy for later."With that, he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you back to the bed where he laid you down, his eyes darkening with desire as he looked down at you.

You giggle lightly as he lays you back down on the bed, your legs parting slightly as you invite him closer.

Azriel's gaze followed the movement of your legs, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he saw the invitation in your eyes. He climbed onto the bed, settling between your thighs, his weight supported on his elbows as he gazed down at you.

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" he teased, his voice low and playful.

He leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before giving it a gentle bite.

"But don't worry, love. I plan to take full advantage of that"

Feeling your hands in his hair, Azriel gave a low chuckle, the vibration of his laughter traveling straight to your breasts. He continued his attentions, alternating between teasing your nipples and tracing patterns across your skin with his tongue.

"Hmm, sounds like someone wants more," he murmured, his voice muffled against your flesh.

Pulling back slightly, he shifted his position, aligning his cock with your slick entrance. Without another word, he pushed inside you, filling you completely with a single, smooth stroke.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts back into his waiting mouth as he teases and bites at your sensitive nipples, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in the strands as you pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch.

"Fucking hell, babygirl..." he groaned, his hips beginning to rock slowly as he adjusted to your tight warmth. impatience."

He moved to your other breast, lavishing the same attention upon it, all while grinding his hardening cock against your core. Your back arches off the bed as he fills you, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the sudden intrusion. But as he begins to move, slow and deliberate, you relax into him, your inner walls clenching around his thickness.

"Ah... yes..." you breathe out, your hands tightening in his hair.

"Just like that... Don't stop..."

Hearing your plea, Azriel picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. Each thrust drove him deeper into your welcoming heat, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he growled, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dueling with yours as he fucked you relentlessly.

His hands roamed your body, squeezing your ass cheeks, tracing the curve of your waist, and finally, cupping your breasts once again, thumbing your nipples into stiff peaks.

You meet his kiss with equal fervor, your tongue dancing with his as you lose yourself in the sensation of being filled so completely. Your legs wrap around his ass, pulling him even deeper within you, urging him on.

"Oh god, Azriel!" you cry out, your walls spasming around him, milking him for all he's worth.

Feeling your orgasm ripple through you, Azriel let out a guttural roar, burying himself as deep as he could go as he found his own release. He came hard, pulsing streams of hot cum inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it.

"baby Fuck, y/n-" he gasped, collapsing forward, catching himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you before pulling out and gently resting himself on top of you, his hips still between your legs and his head resting on your breasts.

He stayed there for a moment, panting, his heart pounding against your chest, before slowly rolling to the side, taking you with him so you were draped across his chest.

"That was... intense," he panted, his fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah... That was amazing." you murmur, snuggling closer to him, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking.

As you lay there, spent and satisfied, your the aftershocks of your orgasm. You nod weakly, a contented smile tugging at your lips.

Azriel smiled, his fingers gently stroking through your hair as you nestled against him. He could feel the warmth of your body pressed to his, the steady beat of your heart against his chest.

"I know, baby," he said softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

"And it's only going to get better from here."

His hand trailed lower, his fingers finding your hip, where he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Now rest, we've got plenty of time to explore more later when you can feel your legs again." He taunted with a tired grin.

You sigh contentedly with a fucked out smile on your face, feeling utterly relaxed and loved. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his body envelope you, and drift off to sleep in his arms.

Watching you drift off to sleep, Azriel couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment. Here, in his embrace, safe and protected, with his beautiful mate, it was everything he could ever want. And now, it seemed, he had it all.

With a final lingering look, he allowed himself to relax fully, his breathing evening out to match yours. As he drifted toward sleep, he knew one thing for certain - this was just the beginning.

#acotar men x reader #azriel x plus size reader #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel smut #acotar smut #acomaf #rhysand #rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #lucien x reader

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shinestarhwaa · 7 months ago

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MINGIWONKA || SONG MINGI

You thirsty whores wanted Mingi to fuck you with his cane so here we are: getting freaky with MingiWonka

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Mingi x Fem reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship AU, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjob, dirty language, praise kink, sir kink, paraphilia (use of weird objects during sex: his cane), kinda funny imo

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno

ENJOY!

''Mingi, I can't believe you actually dressed up as Willy fucking Wonka for this comeback. That's insane,'' you laughed when Mingi entered your LA hotel room, still wearing his outfit from the MV filming set. He had begged his stylists to let him wear it for the rest of the day, thinking it'd be hilarious to surprise you in it. After a lot of begging, they let him and here he was; Wonka'ing into your bedroom while you laughed at him.

''Oh come on, isn't it sexy? Mingi Wonka is a vibe right? Don't you like it just a little bit?'' he said with a smirk as he leaned against the doorframe. ''Well,'' you started as you eyed him up and down. He grinned and took off his hat and put it on yours instead. ''Is this some weird scenario like... you get the hat, you ride the chocolatier?'' ''Only if you want to,'' he said, as he subtly kicked the wooden cane with his foot.

You stared him up and down once again, your eyes gliding over the shiny purple jacket, grey slacks that barely hid the fat dick it was holding back. You watched how his fingers played with the cane, stroking it slowly. ''You're fixated on that? While you could look at me?'' ''Well I apologize, mister Wonka, I did not reali-'' ''No, no, no, you shush right now, I can give you just what you want, miss Wonka.''

He got on his knees in front of you and pulled down your silky pajama shorts down, as well as your cotton panties. You licked your lips and laid down against the soft pillows as you spread your legs for your boyfriend. This was the weirdest kind of role-play you've ever done, but to be fair he wanted to put on a Sailor Moon costume on himself once.

Mingi peppered kisses from your upper thighs to your knees and back to your inner thigh, pressing his lips everywhere except where you needed them. ''Mingi, please,'' you whined softly. ''Mhm, patience my love, I gotta prepare you don't I?''

Finally, you felt his lips brush over your wet pussy. You had been thinking of him all night anyway so you were quite aroused even before he came home. Now that he put the thought of fucking MingiWonka in your head you got even wetter. You threw the large hat on the ground and moaned when he started to lick and suck at your clit.

You ran your hand through his hair and moaned out, chest heaving as your breathing picked up. ''Oh God, baby that feels so good,'' you whined. Mingi's tongue worked inside your cunt and made you feel things you only felt when you're with him. Pure magic and pleasure.

Your eyes rolled back into your head when he slid two of his long, thick fingers into your pussy. He kept licking and sucking repeatedly on your sensitive clit, making you moan louder for him. You were a little embarrassed as half of the hotel could probably hear you unravel for him but what could you do when he handsome MingiWonka wanted to use his tongue on your pretty little pussy?

His velvety tongue flicked your bud a few times more before you felt yourself getting closer to climaxing. Mingi groped your thighs and ass with his free hand and made you see stars as the pleasure took over your mind, body and soul. His face was completely burried in your pussy as your orgasm washed over you. You moaned loudly and your body shivered as he rode out your high, flicking your clit with his tongue a few more times.

Mingi panted and got up from the bed, stripping himself bare while smirking at you, a disheveled mess in front of him. ''Look at that... Aren't you such a good little girl for me? I'm gonna give you what you want now, huh? Weren't you looking at this beauty for a while?'' Mingi smirked as he showed you his cane, tracing it lightly.

Your eyes went wide and your pussy clenched. ''A-Are you fucking me with that, Min?'' ''Turn around and ass up, babygirl,'' he ordered you. You couldn't believe him and his crazy mind sometimes but this was something you never could've thought of before. Nevertheless, you obeyed him, getting on your knees and resting on your elbows while pushing your ass up for him. ''That's a good girl,'' he praised you as he cleaned off the cane and lubed it up.

''Now give me a good view of that pretty little pussy, Y/N,'' Mingi said in a raspy voice, positioning himself behind you. You spread your legs a little more for him and waited in anticipation. You took a deep breath when you felt the cold material prod against your hole. ''Oh God, sir,'' you whispered.

Soon enough it pushed inside you with force and your elbows gave out. Your moans were muffled by the pillow underneath you, where your head was pressed in as Mingi rutted the cane into your cunt deeply. It pushed in and out and soon enough he picked up the pace, adjusting the angles to find the exact spot you loved it so much.

You whined loudly and started trembling, your previous orgasm still leaving you sensitive. ''That's a good girl, taking anything I give to you, hm?'' ''Y-Yes, Oh my God, for you sir, for you!'' ''That's right, sir Wonka is in charge here. So if I wanna fuck you with this cane and stuff it into your wet, needy pussy that's what we're gonna do, hm?''

After repeatedly hitting your g-spot and making you moan like a bitch in heat he started to push it deeper inside you, making you scream out loud. Your breathing was heavy and you felt how hot and red your face was, the entire situation nearly becoming too much. You started to grind back on the cane, fucking yourself on it as Mingi forced you to take more and more into your cunt.

''Such a talented little pussy, taking it like that. You're such a talented little girl aren't you? And so dirty, God, are you gonna cum on this angel? Is this beautiful cane that belongs to sir gonna make you cum, and scream and fucking come undone?''

''Yes! Yes it is, sir, oh my God it is!'' you screamed. It was only a matter of a few more thrusts before you felt yourself tremble and shudder as you came for him, cunt twitching and clenching on the cane. When you calmed down he pulled it out and smirked at your gaping hole and then on the slick covering the cane he used as an MV prop just hours ago.

Mingi tossed aside the cane and did not warn you as he pushed his cock inside you, moaning out and throwing his head back. He pounded his thick cock inside you and you had no choice but to take it and let him ruin you. ''Please, please, please,'' you whimpered.

''Please what, little one? What do you want? Is sir's cock not enough? Or is sir's cock so fucking good you're gonna cum again like a little-''

''Yes! Yes, it's too good!'' you interrupted him, clenching down on his cock and earning a low groan from him. He rocked into you and gripped your ass tight, kneading the flesh in his hands. The sounds of skin slapping together filled the room, combined with loud squeels muffled by the plush pillow.

''Are you gonna cum again baby? Aren't you a filthy little girl, jesus, you're gonna take my load baby, gonna take sir's load like a good girl while you cum, isn't that right?'' He thrusted harder into you when you didn't answer him. ''Isn't that right?'' he snapped.

You cried out, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock pulsated inside you, spilling his cum into your clenching cunt. You whined and cried out his name as you came for a third time.

When he pulled his cock out of your cunt and watched it leak out you let your entire body fall back on the bed, absolutely spent. Mingi grinned and took you into his arms. He strokes your hair gently and kissed your head. ''You've done so well for me baby, you were insane.''

''I am insane? Didn't you just fuck me with a cane?'' ''Maybe a bit. I went bazonka like Willy Wonka.'' ''Don't ever say that again, Min.''

#kpop #ateez #shinestarhwaa #smut #mingi #mingi x reader

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httpisaoki · 9 months ago

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'till death do us part ft. yu jimin

sypnosis. after 10 years of marriage, even if it was only an arranged marriage, you thought that she would at least stay loyal. least to say the sounds coming from your shared bedroom last night weren't just nothing. and the moment you shove the divorce papers to her face, she couldn't let you go just like that, can't she?

tags. domestic au, non-idol au, ceo au, cheating, angst, crying, wlw, marriage

warnings. cheating, arranged marriage, karina CHEATEDDD, oooo you mad mad, crying, ANGST. (that's all i think?)

-> part two. not proofread!

last night was foggy, karina had woken up naked, her fling right next to your side of the bed, an empty feeling in her stomach. she shouldn't have done that, she thinks, but it's too late. it's happened more than she can count and she knows that the fling she had wasn't going to end anytime soon. she feels guilty but you never liked her, or did you?

Now she stands across from you, the silence in the room makes her nervous. the papers in your hands made her anxious, she couldn't lose you. the tension in the room could be sensed miles away, you were mad--- and she knew it.

it's all clear in the way you stood against the door, a hint of anger radiating off your body. karina was scared, she felt the sweat on her palms, her eyes fixed on those papers on your hands as if she could burn a hole through them if she stared long enough.

"please... just... wait a moment." she pleaded.

why should she get her way when she had been the one who betrayed your trust? her infidelity wasn't excusable in any way. "I don't have all day." the tone of you voice cold, she knew if you was angry— she wouldn’t have a chance.

she wanted to whimper in fear, the coldness of your voice could send her to tears, a tone that would make even the most powerful man cower in fear. she could feel the blood rush out of her face, her legs shaking, she just couldn't let you go.

and then the moment of realization hit her, the tone of your voice, the way you were standing and the glare of your eyes had reminded her of something, a memory that she'd tried so hard to bury away..

"Please..."

she wanted to cry, but the fear of you turning her down stopped her tears from falling. she'd cheated because of her own problems, her own loneliness, and her own issues but she was still your wife. she was still yours.

she begged again, a tone of desperation in her voice.

the last thing she'd want was to lose you... but she knows it was her fault.

the words that would come out of her mouth right now could make or break your marriage.

she takes a deep breath, looking up at you, trying not to cry from the fear that was rising in her chest, a knot tying in her throat.

"please... i know that i cheated but..."

"stop." the ice in your tone was unforgiving, the lack of patience in those eyes would make just about everyone shut up and listen. you weren't going to be easily manipulated anymore.

"i don't want to hear it." she flinches at the tone of your voice, her eyes fluttering for a moment before she forces herself to look up again.

her eyes fill with sadness, those pleading words were stuck in her throat, a lump taking place in her mouth.

"after 10 years, really? I knew this would never work out." the anger in you voice had made her shiver. "but to think that you'd cheat with jaewook, one of my employees too, huh?" the venom in your voice forced out a bitter chuckle. "h-he..." the words stuck in her throat for a minute, she couldn't believe that you knew of her affair partner, then she shook her head slightly. "yes, him.."

the fact that you knew his name made her want to shrink. your eyes pierced through her, you knew every single detail of this entire ordeal. you knew how often this had happened between the two of them, you knew she had betrayed you the moment she accepted a drink during the business dinner.

her lips parted for a moment, her brain scrambled, panic and fear consumed her. she could see your anger now, you knew everything, she was caught red-handed. "you...you know everything.." her voice cracked as she spoke. You scoffed, "you didn't think that I'd be stupid enough to not keep tabs on you?" you smiled sarcastically,

"we had agreed on none of us seeing anyone and being faithful even if our marriage was arranged, right? I had to make sure. and I was right, you didn't stick to your promise, karina." the way her name rolled off your tongue, the tone of disgust as you said it.

the way you had said her name, her own name, with a tone of disgust made her want to sob. you knew everything, every single detail of this affair, every detail that she thought she'd hidden so brilliantly.

she gulped, her throat drying out at the fact that you were well aware that she's betrayed your trust. you had kept track of her, you had kept her in your palms the whole time and she was foolish enough to do such thing under your nose.

"beg all you want, I don't care." you spoke harshly, "you know how I don't tolerate cheating." the cruel nature of your response made her flinch. her lips parted for a moment before she said, "don't you care about me? don't you...don't you love me?"

as much as she was guilty for her infidelity, she still hoped that you liked her, that you cared for her, that you saw her as your wife despite the arranged marriage. but the tone of your voice made it clear that you didn't, that the only thing you were capable of feeling was anger, hate-- disgust.

you scoffed, "why didn't you asked yourself that before you went into bed with him?" a hint of sarcasm in your tone. "don't..." she wanted to sob, the humiliation of you reminding her of her own infidelity was torture. but the fact that she did it to herself was even worse, she was the only one to blame. but it's not like she had done it out of pure lust... no, it was her need of validation-- a need for some form of connection with a man. she'd felt so lonely in the marriage, but that wasn't your fault. she gulped, her eyes fixed on yours as the tears fell.

"Who do you think took you home after all those stressful nights that you drank until you passed out? who do you think supported your company after all those years? was it him or was it me?" your tone was cold but the look in your eyes showed that you were hurt.

"it was you..." she was reminded of all the times you'd picked her up from work after she finished her work, the times you've carried her to bed when she had passed out, the times she'd called you in tears. she owed her success to you, to your support.

a knot took place in her throat but the words couldn't come out, she couldn't find a single excuse for her infidelity. "you did...everything for me."

You hummed, "just because I didn't show it doesn't mean I didn't care. you out of all people should know that." you let out a shaky breath.

she gulped, she couldn't believe that she had thrown away 10 years of marriage for another man. your cold demeanour, your unapproachable nature, all of it was a wall she had slowly started chipping away over the years but the fact that she was the one who initiated that affair was the saddest thing of all.

"please, I'm sorry..."

"can we give ourselves another chance? please...we can...we can start over..." her knees were nearly giving out at that point, the thought of losing you was far too terrifying. but she was the one to mess up the marriage...

but you had been so kind the whole time, despite the fact you didn't show affection, she could see that you cared in your own way. she just had to prove that she was worthy of your attention-- your love.

"fill out the papers, karina." your voice was soft, wanting to get this over with already, you tossed her the papers. "no...wait..."

her heart was racing, she couldn't stand this anymore. the thought of losing you was enough to make her knees buckle, her heart sinking to her stomach. but the papers...

they were for the divorce, your divorce papers...

she looked down at them, her fingers trembling, the tears running down her face, and she thought of one thing and one thing alone.

she should've never cheated.

-> idk if this is a teaser for an upcoming series of mine or if this is just my karina rip post idk but yeah, thanks for the support !! :)

#aoki's works #aespa x reader #yu jimin x reader #karina x reader #kpop x reader #angst

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space-mango-company · 9 months ago

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Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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vasiktomis · 11 months ago

Text

Loophole (Zayne x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Zayne has an Evol flare-up while you’re visiting Snowcrest. You’re a good friend, so you help him out.

It doesn't mean anything if you don't move, right?

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~6800. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Reader is MC, Caretaking, Friends to Lovers, Inappropriate Doctor/Patient Relationship, Childhood Friends, Bickering, Cock Warming, First Time, Vaginal Sex, Photography, Unsafe Sex, Porn with Feelings, Switching. Post-chapter 4 spoilers. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“Let’s get you inside.”

The cold weather poses something of a threat to Zayne, you've realised.

He'd never admit such a thing, of course, but if he hadn't wanted you to make such an observation, he shouldn't have made it his responsibility to impose such an unexpectedly strong presence in your life.

A year ago, you barely knew him. To say he kept you at arms' length was an understatement, but with everything that's occurred in recent months — with such a void left in your life from the loss of Caleb and Grandma — and the ugly mysteries eclipsing once-happy memories — your doctor, of all people, is the one dedicating almost every minute of his time outside of work to trying to fill that void. It's not like he talks your ear off — he's Zayne, after all — but he makes a noticeable effort to make himself accessible to you whenever he can.

He's been a good friend to you at the sacrifice of his own comfort.

In the seven months that have passed since the explosion, you've had more exposure to Zayne than you've had any of your other friends. He rarely strays from his quiet stoicism, but it's far easier to read him. These days, you can't believe you once thought him intimidating. The softer aspects of his personality aren't offered willingly, but accidentally. A slip of the tongue here, a too-long stare at a community cat there, a smile he doesn't think you notice. He masks his requests for you to visit him in his overtime hours as nagging reminders for you to water the plants. He never asks you to bring him dinner, but there's always an extra seat pulled up at his desk when you arrive with it unannounced.

You’re sure he likes it well enough; getting to know you after all these years. You’re just not sold on how fond he is of you knowing him.

It shows stark on his typically taciturn features. Streetlamp light bounces off fluffy snow at all angles in the little village laneway, illuminating the man with an almost healthy glow as he walks stiffly beside you, right hand clutched against his side and his left doing all it can to keep from crushing the bones in yours.

“I’m fine.” He insists while you lead him up to the cabin, grimacing at a sudden chill of wind passing over the porch. There's a certain tone he uses when he's putting on the bedside manner. As a patient, you'd be soothed. As a friend, your patience wanes. He's not fine.

”I’ll get a fire going.” You mutter, ushering him inside. He tries amidst obvious pain to be gentlemanly, waiting for you to enter first, but a scowl on your part has him conceding defeat and ambling through the door. “Get in the shower. Can you turn it on by yourself?”

There’s no more warm light from the street in here. Dr. Noah likely would have fallen asleep hours ago, shortly after you’d left for dinner. Still, even in the dark, you can sense the irritation in him.

“You act like I’m frozen solid.” He retorts on his way to the bathroom, knowing better than to stick around despite the attempt to uphold his pride.

”Get your butt in the shower before I throw you in there myself.”

The warmer months gave you no initial reason to suspect anything, but as the weather worsened and temperatures dropped, Zayne began to feel more on-edge. You’d bore witness to his attacks in the past, but he was no more willing to share his condition with you beyond the odd occasion of being unable to switch it off after a battle. You knew what it looked like when his Evol was acting up. It almost caused a fight, the first time you asked about it. Then, when it became clear you weren’t simply going to leave him to his own devices whenever he was displaying the signs, Zayne steadily, reluctantly, began to let you assist. He couldn’t stand it — he still can’t, you’re sure — not playing caretaker for once, but the two of you found a rhythm; keeping an eye on his temperature, steering clear of fluctuations, little remedies that help him bounce back quicker when his Evol gets the better of him. It became second nature to you, like carrying an Epipen for a loved one at risk of anaphylaxis.

You won’t lie, though. It pisses you off. He’s a constant nag when it comes to your health regarding your heart condition, but there was no allowable mention of his condition when he brought you to Dr. Noah. Not that your opinion counts for anything, apparently, but what idiot cashes out his annual leave for an extended stay in a tundra when he's so prone to such reactions?

It had shocked you even more when your friend declared he’d be staying back for the foreseeable future, conducting research for the old man on a solo expedition on Mt. Eternal. Your friend — the one who'd taken it upon himself to be a stand-in for your lost family — alone, in the worst possible place he could be in his condition.

It was unthinkable.

Four weeks was your breaking point after you’d returned home without him.

Sure, he responded to your texts within seconds. Reception wasn’t good enough for calls, but he made sure to give you no logical reason to worry about him. It didn’t help. Once your dreams started to take the shape of him disappearing into the mountains, you cut your losses and decided to visit for the weekend.

Just as well, considering he’d been massaging his wrist in your periphery for the entirety of your first day. Still, he'd insisted on showing you around Snowcrest, spending as much time away from Dr. Noah's cabin as possible. You knew his tells. He was bordering on a flare-up and hiding it from you. Had he mentioned it and agreed to stay in tonight, you might not of had to drag him home with frost seeping out of his clothes and a foul mood. Instead, he chose to be proud about it.

Idiot.

God knows what could have happened to him if he hadn't come down from the mountain to spend the weekend with you.

He’d never let you get away with such stupidity, and it’s hard not to hold it against him. You came here out of worry in the first place, and the visit isn’t doing a thing to set your mind at ease.

You tend to rekindling the dimming embers in the fireplace, content to mind your business once you hear the shower turn on. At least he’s doing what he’s told.

The living room heats up steadily. New flames settle into a longer-lived glow. You get yourself changed into more suitable bed wear; a commandeered hoodie from your doctor’s medical school era, large enough to reach halfway to your knees. The frayed cuffs have since lost their elasticity and there are a few choice stains, and most condemning, the drawstrings have been chewed to tassels — but god, if it isn’t comfy. Time stretches on, and while the worry gnaws at the back of your mind, you leave Zayne to his privacy. So long as you don’t hear a thump, you’re content to imagine he’s probably just in there being mad at himself over not being the sensible one for once.

Zayne keeps himself locked away for the better part of an hour, in the end. Even Pie pads out into the living room to investigate what you’re doing up alone in the middle of the night before a scritch sends the fox on its way back to bed.

You’ve slid most of the way off the couch by the time the man emerges from his room in fresh pajamas. With your back to the rug, you watch him approach stiffly, slowing to a halt upside-down. He’s still rubbing at that wrist, you note.

“You’re still up.” He mutters, brow knitted in discomfort.

There’s frost on his neck. His lips are blue. It wasn’t even this bad when you were outside. A pit forms in your stomach.

Then, his wake hits you. Cold air, chilling you to the bone, and you sit up in a flash.

“Zayne—“

He silences you with a little hand motion, stepping around you to seat himself as close as he can to the fireplace.

“You’re half-frozen.” You continue when he offers you nothing else. Crawling onto the couch beside him, you reach up to tug at the collar of his sweater, trying to inspect the severity of the attack. “God, you should have said something.”

“I thought you were asleep.” He replies quietly. “I’ve seen — how much it takes to wake you-“

Zayne flinches from your touch when your fingertip skims his neck. The most aggressive warning to stay back that he can risk without waking his mentor. You ignore him, of course. You always do. Sitting close, you press yourself to his side on the couch, guiding his right arm between your thighs. Your fingers lace between his from both sides, covering as much surface area as possible as you use your body to fend off the cold.

A moment is all it takes to see some of the tension in his face disappear. He breathes through the pain, eyes closed, and you shift your gaze to the fireplace to give him his privacy with it.

”You’re in so much trouble when this passes.”

A short, sharp chuckle slips through Zayne’s teeth. He nods once. “I know.”

You sit together like this for a long while, letting him sap the heat from your body to combat the flare-up. If not for the fire, you’d be shivering. It takes time, but eventually Zayne’s breathing evens out. His face relaxes, bit by bit. His half-frozen arm feels just a little cold to the touch.

Neither of you part. Not just yet. There’s too much left unsaid, and Zayne takes far too much solace in quiet to make the first move.

You let your temple drop to his shoulder. “Snow village dates are nice, but most girls would say yes to ‘Go Fish’ and hot cocoa if it means their date makes it through the night.”

After a second, Zayne rests his head against yours.

He inhales.

He pauses.

Then…

“I wanted you to have a nice time. I didn’t think it through.”

…God, he’s such a sweet man. It’s not wonder he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

There’s such a sense of finality to the way he says it. You suppose it’s not necessarily a wrong way to think of it, but it’s not his fault. Sure, it’s your last night together for what may amount to months, and he was stupid enough to think he could get away with poking the bear, but you’d rather have him come home alive and well. Not a victim to his own Evol.

It doesn’t sit right with you to let it end like this. The moment he’s recovered, he’s going to insist you both go to sleep. You’ll take the guest bed, and he’ll take the pull-out trundle, and he’ll remain there, soundless with his back to you. In the morning, you’ll say your goodbyes, and that will be that. The next time you see him will probably be for a check-up, and he’ll spend the entirety of the ECG acting like you’re mere acquaintances again.

No, you’re not losing momentum.

You’re not sure if it’s warmth in general, or if it’s a reaction specific to you — through trust, or the Aether core — there’s just no telling. Zayne keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to ever be sure, but you do know for certain that you hold the quickest remedy. If it’s just warmth, he never lets anyone but you get close enough to supply it. If it’s trust, likewise. The Aether core? You’re the only one.

“What are you—“

Zayne stiffens when you climb into his lap. He winces in discontentment; at such an intimidate proximity, at the physical danger he still poses, at the feeling of your thighs astride his. He doesn’t look pleased in the slightest, but still, his knees shift together, offering you a more comfortable perch on which to explain yourself.

You can feel the cold still radiating from him, fighting his body to keep from regulating its own temperature. It’s unpleasant, the way the chill claws at you, reaching across the expanse of your front. The joints in your hands already ache just from holding his arm to your chest. It’s imaginable, what it must be like to host such an Evol. What it must be like to have your own flesh freeze from the inside-out on a whim.

“Not done keeping you warm.” You answer simply, making a conscious effort to keep your teeth from chattering for his sake. He’s exercising enormous restraint not flinging you off of him already. You shouldn’t push your luck by sending him into any more of a panic.

“It’s not safe for you to be this close.” Zayne protests.

“Then I’m making you safe.”

This time, a growl escapes him. Pain cuts his patience with your impudence short. “You’re going to get yourself hurt—“

Zayne’s words die in his throat when you drape yourself over him, chest to chest, arms languidly curling over his shoulders. He goes completely silent.

“Aren’t you always telling me you can control it, anyway?” You muse, relaxing into him, moulding yourself to his body. The white frost that blooms beneath his skin begins to fade from his throat, unable to contend with the warmth of your breath. “If you didn’t want me doing this you shouldn’t have shown me how well it works.”

“That was after the aid of a hot shower.” Zayne argues. His logic might apply for that aborted attempt at an early-morning hike, but it falls flat tonight. “I was trying to warm up after the shower.”

Yeah, look how well that turned out. He’s as bad at lying as you are.

“So you’re saying I ought to have—“

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If it’s not helping, Zayne, tell me.”

“…It’s helping.” He mutters.

You declare your victory with a hum, tucking your face into the collar of his sweater.

Even his scent is cold, somehow.

Beneath you, Zayne shifts, conceding defeat. You feel his lips ghost the side of your head. Considering — then retreating from a kiss — opting instead to rest his chin on you. His affected arm remains wedged between you, while his free hand comes to rest on your waist.

Minutes pass. Zayne’s breathing steadies to a resting rhythm. Eventually, the ice retreats into his flesh, disappearing with only a lingering chill. It shifts, marking the man’s return to normal, but he doesn’t announce anything. Instead, he tugs his arm out, only to wrap around you, surrendering to the moment.

“Do you have plans, while I’m away?” He asks.

“Tara’s been looking at the blank spots on my calendar, so I’ve probably got things on without knowing, yet.”

“Blank spots.”

”Yeah. Some of us have those.”

”Sounds like you don’t know what to do with yourself without me.”

“Please. I won’t have to worry about you bullying me. Maybe, y’know, I’ll do just fine without you.”

A chuckle escapes him. Tentatively, he toys with the fabric of your hoodie. “You’re not going to wash this at all, are you.”

Heat climbs up your neck at the suggestion. Of all the night clothes you had to bring, why did it have to be something you’d stolen from him?

You’re no coward. You rise to challenge. “Can’t miss you when it feels like I’ve got you with me.”

“I know you’ll miss me,” Zayne retorts, and wow, he’s really angling for a comeback after having you subject him to being taken care of, “But that’s no excuse for poor hygiene.”

“Poor hygiene—!”

You lean back to glower at the man, only to find him smirking up at you.

“I’ve half a mind to expect to find you asleep on the platform when the train pulls in, simply because you were too excited to wait at home for me to drop by.”

Your ears are positively scalding. You feel yourself shrinking, suddenly not so confident taking up as much space in the room. How does he have you so well figured out? Are you really that much of an open book? Compared to him, sure, but you’d hoped you carried a little more mystery about you than sitting on a station platform for a quasi-boyfriend-without-benefits like a dog.

Even if that is the case — does he really have to rub it in your face?

He can’t get away with this.

Speaking plainly, Zayne’s warmed up plenty. There’s no real reason for either of you to remain this close, and yet — despite lauding himself as the rational half of this friendship, his arms almost keep you from moving any further away.

His expression doesn’t falter with your silence, remaining ever-undisturbed. It unnerves you. His smiles never last more than a second, and you can count on one hand the amount of times he’s looked you in the eye with a pleasant face on. He’s on a power trip. If you don’t cut him down right this second he’ll go nuclear. He’ll leave you hanging with a ‘goodnight’ and a kiss on the forehead and you’ll both never speak of tonight again.

This is it. This is the last straw. Tonight, you leave him hanging.

“You want me to miss you so fucking bad, huh?” You accuse him, tapping a finger to your chin as you pretend to wonder. His eyebrow ticks. “Is that what you’re into? Man, you medical staff are all so power hungry.”

Zayne looks thoughtful for a moment. A thumb idly traces back and forth along your skin, barely tucked beneath your hoodie. It’s such a cautious touch. You wish he wasn’t just all talk. “Perhaps you’re easier to deal with when one considers you might actually like getting bossed around.”

There’s no hiding the erection that sits wedged between you. There’s no ignoring the heat that pools in your core every time it strains against your cunt, blocked only by his sweatpants and your underwear.

There’s no way he can’t feel your heart beat throbbing against him.

And yet — he pretends not to be taking part in any of it.

You think about it for a moment.

Then, you roll your hips forward, slowly, gently. Your nerves spark as your clit finds the pressure it needs against the underside of his cock.

It takes everything in your power to keep from doing it again.

A tiny shiver makes its way out of Zayne. Frustration, perhaps. You angle a knowing little smile at him, and his throat bobs. He knows he’s been caught.

Checkmate.

“Doctor Zayne, are you getting off on this?” You ask, and his face flushes scarlet. His eyes widen, caught off-guard by you finally crossing the threshold.

”I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answers lamely, pointedly avoiding looking down.

“You are!”

“Not so loud. It’s n-… it’s nothing.” He insists in a hushed voice, shooting a look over your shoulder before he’s satisfied that the coast is clear of anyone who might be privy to what the two of you are doing. “Just a biological reaction to stimuli.”

“Which stimuli?” You ask, feigning curiosity. “The cuddling, or this?”

To stress your point, you do it again, biting back the swell of enjoyment at the way his lips part of their own accord. A little hum spills forth, and his own hips chase the motion, just for a second, before he halts.

“Please.” Zayne murmurs, moving to hold you still. Inching you back onto his thighs, condemning himself to reveal two little damp patches. One where the grey fleece of his sweatpants pulls most taut. The other a little lower, where you’ve been rubbing your cunt along his clothed shaft.

“You need to learn when you’ve teased enough.”

What — fall back? Now? When all your nerves are alight?

Your tongue wets your lips as you take in the sight of him. Well on his way to wrecked, but not quite there. His expression remains otherwise impassive, but his pupils are far too blown to help him maintain the facade.

“You’re one to talk. Can’t hack it when it’s not you in charge?” You challenge him. “You’re not usually one to shy away from uncharted territory.”

You can’t help but reach out, itching to touch him. Fingertips smooth along his length, feather-light from the bottom up. His cock twitches when you reach the tip, begging for more.

“Ah—“ Long fingers snatch at your wrist, holding you fast. “Try no man’s land.”

“It’s nothing.” You assure him. “You said it yourself.”

Nothing. No different to how he so often strays into treating you, with all his dates and touches. Nothing, midday naps and linking your pinky-fingers as you walk together. Nothing, like the spare clothes you both reserve a drawer for.

“Just warming you up. That’s all.”

Zayne’s chest expands. His gaze fixes on your fingertips curling insistently at his waistband despite his grip keeping you at bay. “That’s all.”

Disbelief? Determination? Disappointment? You’re not familiar enough with how each of these sound in his throat to properly identify it, but Zayne’s grip on your wrist releases nonetheless. He opts to help you make more comfortable work of his track pants, pushing them down just a little to allow you easier access. There’s no presence of approval at how greedy you are about it, pawing and snatching at your prize while he tries to remain nonchalant.

You do try to give him the dignity of privacy by not looking down when he settles and you finally wrap both hands around his cock. He’s already indignant as it is, and the rumble that vibrates deep in his chest as your fingers close around him isn’t helping.

Oh — maybe just a little tease.

“Hey.” You chide, grinning. His eyes crack open, just enough to narrow at you. “Don’t make it weird. I’m a professional.”

It earns you a scoff. Zayne’s fingers, settled on your thighs, give a retaliatory squeeze, thumbs pressing just hard enough into your adductors to skirt on discomfort. He watches you tense at the feeling, and sensing an opportunity to shift the attention back off himself, decides to squeeze harder.

You finally flinch with an “Ow!”, and the man smiles to himself. Mission accomplished. He lets go.

”You’re the professional? How many surgeries have you performed?”

”How many have you performed?”

”…A lot, genius.”

“Didn’t you tell me that some of your worst patients are doctors themselves?”

“Your point being?”

There’s no point — at least not in arguing with him. He’s only trying to distract you. You shift over him, and his attitude dissolves. He leans back, maintaining as much distance as he can — or perhaps to watch, as you tug your underwear to the side — line yourself up — and sink down onto his cock.

Zayne’s chest expands, but he makes no noise. His eyes close. His lips part. A minor crease forms between his eyebrows. It might as well be a sob. You’d use such a reaction against him if you weren’t more concerned with suppressing your own, lest he catch you out. Your cunt burns from the sudden, full intrusion, and his diverted attention gives you the moment you need to grow accustomed to it.

Once you’ve gotten over the initial shock of the feeling, you brush any intrusive thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter if he’s one of your oldest and closest friends. It doesn’t matter if he’s your doctor. You were already squarely planted in conflict-of-interest territory the moment he took you on as a patient.

You try to ignore your own desire. Your body catches up with your actions quickly, igniting touch-starved nerves that you’ve long-fantasised him satisfying. Heat builds inside you at a nervous system realising you’re finally giving it what it wants, and it only screams for more. Of course you’ve wanted Zayne. You adore him, but he’s not the kind of man who could balance a friendship with benefits; if anything, he finds a way to be the inverse of such a thing. He gives you everything in the way of a relationship except sex, and with him steering so clear of crossing that boundary with you, you have to tread carefully.

As much as you want to, this is delicate.

“My point is: zip it and let me take care of you.” You manage.

Besides, its not like you’re actually having sex with him. He’s continually pushing the boundaries of platonic with all his touches and hugs anyway. It’s not like he has a leg to stand on if he wants to protest what sitting on his cock might mean for your relationship. Hell, this isn’t even the first time he’s been hard when you’ve had his hips pinned down with your own.

If anything, you’re doing the guy a favour by taking the responsibility off him to go this far.

Zayne doesn’t bounce back as quickly as you do. His eyes remain scrunched shut, his core engaged beneath your palms as you brace your weight to settle into a more comfortable position in his lap. He looks worried. Apprehensive.

“Doctor Zayne?” Concern begins to creep in, just a little. “Okay, you can say something now.”

“Please,” He grits between his teeth, and relief floods your body as some semblance of calm returns to his expression, “Don’t call me that — like this.”

“Like what? I’m just warming you up, remember?” You offer a smile when he opens one eye, mood shifting to quizzical.

“You’re so immature. And for the record, this constitutes malpractice. You’re a terrible doctor.”

”Trust the process.”

”Fine. What’s the course of treatment?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but chuckle at such quiet outrage. It’s getting easier to read him. Relaxing against his front, you ignore a little gasp on his part to loop your arms around his neck again. Dishonest pretences be damned, this really is doing the trick. “All you need to do is stay still.”

Zayne weighs up his options for only a moment before giving in. His arms slip around your waist. His chin hooks over your shoulder, just barely nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He’s breathing in your scent, and the following exhale into your skin has you stifling a shiver.

Then, there’s a flex within you.

“Hey!” You choke, “I said stay still back there!”

“Quiet down. It was only a reflex.” Zayne defends, a little too cavalier to fly under the radar. “Besides, I’m not the one squirming.”

“I’m just getting comfortable. Your hips are pointy.”

Zayne’s hips slot up into yours, and the feel of him nudging just a little deeper has your eyes stinging. You fail to stifle a little squeak, and you’re shushed for it immediately.

“Just getting comfortable.” Zayne’s words lick at your ear, and the sound of him sends shivers through you, pooling between your legs, pleading with you to satisfy the ever-nagging want to start riding him. “You’re like a vice.”

He has to know how much of an effect he has on you. There’s no way he doesn’t.

You don’t respond to his attitude — however, the condemning, responding, constricting of your insides around his cock surely doesn’t go unnoticed, and with a hollow breath, he lifts you, just a little, enough to draw back and push back in. He’s slow about it; infuriatingly so, almost like if he inches in and out at enough of creeping pace you’ll either not bother to be strict with him, or you’ll simply abandon your own rules in favour of crossing the boundary he’s silently begging you to cross for him.

No. He’s not getting the upper hand here. Not when he gets to pretend all his little actions are forgettable. Platonic. Accidental. Misunderstood. There’s only so many times a guy can subtly grind on someone during a spooning session and claim ignorance when called out about it.

You lock your feet beneath his knees, and sink down onto him, hard. Pleasure blooms. Your cunt aches for more. A sharp breath escapes Zayne, threatening to blossom into an appreciative groan that would only serve to tempt you without your hand clapping over his mouth and a ‘shh!’.

“You can keep still, or this stops.” You announce in a whisper, and he watches you defiantly from behind your hand.

Zayne’s gaze eventually breaks away from yours. Conceding. For now, at least. You lower your hand from his mouth, and relax, reaching across the cushion to pluck your phone from the couch and check your messages.

Already, he’s bothered by your lack of undivided attention.

“You’re on your phone.” He huffs.

“I’m not rewarding your behaviour.” You reply simply.

“You’re not implying that behaving differently would warrant a reward, are you?”

That’s for him to figure out.

You shift your weight maybe just a little more than you need to, indulging in the feeling of his cock shift with you, within you, pressing insistently against that one spot that almost has your constitution coming apart at the seams. Zayne trembles momentarily beneath you, swallowing hard. He’s keeping his cool well enough, but as you settle into the new angle, no longer moving, his frustration makes itself known with another twitch inside you.

If he keeps doing that, you’re not sure you can hold out.

“You really think this is helping?” He asks, voice tight.

“You don’t believe me?” You pout, tapping your home screen and opening your camera app. “Fine, let the expert see for himself.”

Switching to selfie cam, you watch as the man glances at his image on the screen for half a second, before tearing his gaze away. Not a shocker, you reason. He’s probably never seen himself with a hair out of place. Flushed cheeks and dilated pupils? You might as well have shown him a traffic collision.

“Aw, come on. Look how much colour’s come back to your face.”

Zayne musters the courage to look up, but not at the phone. His eyes narrow at you. Accusatory. “I’m not interested in giving you blackmail material.”

“What? Get real. There’s nothing incriminating going on. Especially not when you angle it like this.” You switch on a filter and lean down into the man. “See?”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and his head tilts to get a better look at whatever scheme you’re cooking up. On the screen, both your flushed faces smooth out, blushing perfectly. Cat ears and whiskers. Cheek to cheek. Just another one of your countless selfies with completely platonic friends.

You take the shot. The shutter clicks.

“Cute.” Zayne mutters drily.

“You think so?”

“Only how much fun you seem to be having of it.”

Your brow knits. “Oh yeah? All right, stick in the mud, you take over.”

He gives too much away at that response. His long fingers immediately slip over your hips. He’s readying to flip you onto your back before he notices you’re holding the phone out to him. Then, knowing he’s shown his hand, he has no choice but to recover his pride.

Much to your chagrin, Zayne plucks the phone from your hand, aborting whatever miraculous step he’d been about to take. A corner of his mouth ticks, minutely. He angles your phone away from you, tapping and swiping. His own phone buzzes. Then, he casts the device at the other end of the couch, out of your reach. “I think it’s getting a bit late for screens.” He murmurs. Fingers smooth up and over the swell of your hips. His long arms uncoil from your waist, releasing you as he leans back. Leaving you with a lonesome chill. “And you ought to be going to bed.”

Is that…rejection? Has he just been humouring you up until this point?

You tilt your head. “I’m sorry. Is this not okay?”

“This is fine.”

He looks at the fireplace. Stoic as ever.

“Then what?” You frown.

He doesn’t respond.

Your throat runs dry. Dread creeps up through your heart.

“Hey. Talk to me.” You urge, smoothing your fingers along his jaw, and he leans into your palm.

Seconds pass. Zayne finally regards you again. There’s an acknowledging incline of his head — almost a polite bow. A pre-emptive apology for what he’s about to say.

“What happens after this?” He asks. “Do we part ways at the train station in the morning and the next time we see each other, it’ll be as doctor and patient?”

Oh.

“Is that what we are to you?” You ask, not entirely sure if you want to know.

He dodges the question the best way he knows how: with rationality. “I feel that if that scenario is what you want, we should say goodnight. My understanding of our relationship won’t change, I promise you, but if this goes further, at least one of us is going to feel differently. It would be better if there were no misunderstandings between us.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something dreadful and lovely all the same, anxiety and anticipation at the prospect of a tipping point, at least before saying goodbye. Trust Zayne, of course, to turn to smoke and mirrors when it comes to a confession of feelings, but you’ve known him long enough to see how far out of his comfort zone all of this is.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You ask, aborting an attempt on his part to avert his gaze with a finger beneath his chin.

His expression remains inexplicable. Then, there’s that little tilt of his head. The quirk of an eyebrow. “Your assumption is correct.”

The apprehension that’s been building in the back of your mind disperses the moment he says it. Your resolve all but disappears. “My understanding,” You begin, reaching up to cup your hand over the other side of his face, “is that I’ve wanted you ever since I walked into that restaurant last year.”

Zayne doesn’t hesitate. His mouth finds yours in a heartbeat. Previously unsure hands pull you against him, locking you in his embrace. He’s so awfully gentle about it all despite your combined strength. Such a gentleman. It comes as no surprise that he shudders at the intrusion of your tongue past his lips — what does surprise you is how quickly he catches up to your pace. Inviting you in. Slipping an arm lower to brace your weight, and you feel yourself being pulled up off of his cock, just until only the head remains at your entrance.

The loss of him has you incensed. He keeps you from sinking back down, and your protesting whines are suffocated with another kiss. All he’s left you with to express yourself is your hands, and you seize the opportunity, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, just slightly at the roots.

He breaks away with a little noise. Not pained, but shocked. Another one of his spots, you reason, and he’s just as displeased that you’ve found it.

“You don’t know when to quit.” Zayne pants. His fringe dusts your forehead. “What — what were we saying about bad behaviour going unrewarded?”

You’re too mindless right now to play any games. There’s no more thrill of the build that you can handle. Not after this long.

You break, instantly.

“Please —“ You whimper, almost trembling in his grip, trying in vain to take him back in again. “Zayne, I need it — please—“

Zayne relents right away. He gives you what you want, lowering you, burying himself in you to the hilt. Then he lifts you again, building into a steady rhythm.

”You’re so — you’re so frustrating.” He manages between kisses. “Should’ve told me this is all it takes for you to do as you’re told.”

More. You need more. Heavenly as it is, it’s not enough, just having him in you. You push back, and Zayne takes the hint. He’s said his piece. He lets you take the lead again without a fight, admiring the view as you roll onto the balls of your feet, gripping the back of the couch to keep yourself stable. The new angle feels deeper, each stroke rolling drifting sharply over your nerves as he brushes that spot inside you. It takes a moment for Zayne to kick into gear, brain short-circuiting as he watches you squat on his cock, taking what you need from him. Then, he leaves you to support your own weight. Fingers wrench at the front of your hoodie, yanking it up to your sternum, and his tongue sweeps a nipple. In the time it takes for you to react, his other hand has snaked between you, between your legs. His thumb rolls over your clit just as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. The keen barely escapes your lips before Zayne’s hand claps over your mouth, continuing his assault.

It goes from too little to too much. It creeps up on you so fast, so suddenly, and there’s nothing you can do but ride through it. A muffled hum is all the warning you can give him. Your pace staggers as the burn in your thighs catches up to you, but Zayne only goes faster, rubbing merciless little circles into your nerves. His hips roll up into you, compensating as best he can for your loss of control. Finally, the band snaps, and you sob against his hand, spasming around him, tears pricking at your eyes with the intensity of it all. You go positively boneless, and Zayne breaks away just enough to let you collapse into his chest as he carries you through it, breaths quickening as the lingering spasms of your orgasm invoke his own.

“Fuck, I’m—“ He barely stammers, releasing you only to coil his arms around your torso again, readying to pull out.

“Not going anywhere.” You promise, clinging to him. Your fingers comb through his hair, tugging again, and a whimper dies in Zayne’s throat. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. His hips roll up into you once, twice, thrice more, and then he goes still. Buried in you to the hilt as he tips into oblivion.

He’s so subtle about it that you barely even realise he’s coming. Maybe it’s the effort not to wake Dr. Noah. Maybe it’s like this every time. Having him hold you with such desperate reverence while he does his best not to judder in stark contrast to to the feeling of him pulsing within you, you reason you’d like to find out. He hides his face from you throughout, only pulling his forehead from your clavicle when the aftershocks have come and gone.

Zayne looks lovelier than ever like this — coming out of a blissful haze, gazing up at you with cautious adoration. His focus flickers between your eyes and your lips. His chest expands and collapses like he’s like a 5-miler, but his breaths are smooth.

Even now, he’s trying to maintain a cool composure.

“Forgive me.” He mutters, not quite meeting your eye.

Your head tilts. Chasing him. “Huh? Why?”

“I exercised poor judgement. That was rotten of me. I should have known better, given I’ve never prescribed birth control to you.”

“You really think I’d come to you for birth control?” You snort.

Zayne’s brow creases. An incredulous look totally undermined by how positively wrecked he looks right now. “I am your physician. Or has your other doctor friend decided to become real after all?”

Your fingers comb through his hair again. Despite a pleasant sigh on his part at the sensation, his expression remains steeled.

“Hey.” You finally manage to capture his gaze, only for any tells to evaporate. “Could you tell me something?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Are you more jealous that I might have had sex with someone who wasn’t you, or that I might have gone to another doctor?”

Zayne considers his answer for a long moment. His head tilts in that particular way it does when he has to make a decision, eyeing you expectantly. Punishment for daring to push him out of his comfort zone.

He presses a hand to your forehead.

A thoughtful hum escapes him.

“Curious. Your temperature’s dropping. On second thought, you should stay another day so I can observe you.”

“You’re avoiding the question!”

“Here. I’ll keep you warm. You can install those camera filters on my phone to pass the time.”

#zayne love and deepspace #li shen #zayne x reader #love and deepspace fanfiction #vas fics

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anna-the-undertaker · 5 months ago

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The Boys reaction to a Blue Collar Worker MC who was summoned to the Devildom in nothing but a towel...

I finally did this after so long.... Idk whats happening but I've been on a writing kick recently so we will see how you all like my writing I guess lmao also we are ignoring how mammon wasn't in the room when MC arrives in game cause I'm lazy.

Tags: @lurkingblue @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf

part 1

Lucifer

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight before him. A human, fresh out of a bath and barely coherent, standing in the heart of the Devildom, had the audacity to speak in such a manner. The request for clothes, food, and rest was delivered with a bluntness that bordered on insolence. Normally, he wouldn't tolerate such disrespect, especially not in Diavolo's presence. Lucifer prided himself on order and discipline, and this human's arrival was anything but. He could feel his patience thinning, a not so rare occurrence that he worked hard to suppress. This was the human chosen by Diavolo? His expression remained impassive, but the air around him grew colder as he spoke. "You are in no position to make demands, human. Consider yourself fortunate that Lord Diavolo is more generous than I."

How he looks back on it now: Lucifer, sitting with a glass of Demonus in hand, would let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I still can't believe that was our first impression of them. Summoned to the Devildom in a towel, dripping water all over the floor like they owned the place. And then—then—they have the audacity to demand food, clothes, and a bed as if they were checking into a five-star hotel. I knew from that moment that MC would be nothing but trouble... and I wasn’t wrong.”

Mammon

Mammon, caught somewhere between surprise and amusement, couldn’t help but let out a bark of a laugh. This human was something else. Appearing in the middle of the Devildom, demanding food and a place to sleep like they owned the place? Mammon could almost admire that kind of guts, if it wasn't so ridiculous. But he was also intrigued. They were obviously tired and out of their depth, but there was a spark of defiance in them that piqued his curiosity. "Hey, hey, maybe we should cut ‘em some slack, yeah? Look at ‘em, they’re about ready to keel over. Not exactly how I pictured meetin’ a human though…"

How he looks back on it now: Mammon would be laughing, practically doubled over. “Ya shoulda seen Lucifer’s face! He was so mad, but he didn’t know what to do! And then there’s MC, barely awake, tellin’ us off like we were the ones who interrupted their shower! They’re a riot, I tell ya. I knew right then and there—this human was gonna be somethin’ special.”

Leviathan

Leviathan blinked rapidly, trying to process what he was seeing. This was supposed to be the human exchange student? This tired, wet mess of a person who was talking like they had just walked into a convenience store? Levi was torn between feeling embarrassed for them and being mildly impressed by their nerve. But mostly, he just felt awkward. He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding direct eye contact, his facing burning with a fierce blush as he searched for something to hide behind. "This is so… weird. Like, who even does that? Walking into a place like this… in a towel? It’s like something out of a bad anime."

How he looks back on it now: Levi would be blushing, trying to hide behind his manga. “I mean, it was like something out of an anime, right? The clueless protagonist just casually demanding things from these powerful beings… it’s straight out of a ‘reverse isekai’ plot! But honestly, I was too busy being embarrassed for them to laugh at the time. Now, though? It’s kind of hilarious. They just… stood there, barely dressed, like it was no big deal!”

Satan

Satan observed the human with a critical eye. The situation was strange, even by Devildom standards, but it also presented an interesting puzzle. Who was this human to speak so boldly? They were clearly exhausted, pushed to their limits, but there was something almost… primal about their directness. It was as if survival instincts had taken over. "Interesting. They’re either incredibly brave or too exhausted to care about decorum. I wonder how long they’ll last here if this is how they start."

How he looks back on it now: Satan would smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I admit, I didn’t expect a mere human to have the nerve to make demands right after being summoned. It was… refreshing, to say the least. I could see the frustration in Lucifer’s eyes, and I knew I was going to enjoy having MC around. They didn’t bow down in fear—they just wanted a nap. Brilliant.”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus couldn’t help but giggle, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes. This human was definitely not what he had expected. They were dripping water everywhere, their hair clinging to their skin, and yet, instead of being mortified, they were making demands. It was almost endearing in its own way, like a lost kitten mewling for attention. "Oh my, aren’t you just precious? But darling, if you’re going to make demands like that, at least do it with a bit more flair. Still, I think we can find you something more… suitable to wear or you could just lose the towel all together."

How he looks back on it now: Asmo would be giggling, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. “Oh, it was such a scandal! A human, in a towel, dripping wet in front of everyone! And yet, they had this… effortless confidence. It was kind of hot, honestly. And their skin looked amazing—I was so jealous! I just knew I had to befriend them. Anyone who can pull off an entrance like that is someone I need to know!”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub’s concern was immediate but simple. The human was obviously tired and hungry, and those were things he could easily understand. He frowned slightly, glancing around the room as if expecting someone to step in and help. "They should eat something. And rest. They said they’re about to pass out. We can figure everything else out after."

How he looks back on it now: Beel would nod thoughtfully, his focus split between the memory and whatever snack he’s holding. “I just remember being really confused… and hungry. They said something about food, and I thought, ‘Yeah, I could go for a snack too.’ But they didn’t even seem scared, just tired and hungry. I get that. We connected on a deep level that day.”

Diavolo

Diavolo, on the other hand, was more fascinated than anything else and couldn't help the booming laugh that escaped him. The human’s arrival, so raw and unfiltered, was not what he had planned, but it was a glimpse into their true character. He appreciated the honesty in their exhaustion and the way they set boundaries despite being in an unfamiliar and likely frightening situation. "Welcome to the Devildom," he said warmly, his voice cutting through the tension. "We will, of course, ensure you are taken care of. Rest first, and we’ll discuss everything else when you’re ready."

How he looks back on it now: Diavolo would laugh heartily, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, that was classic! I thought we were about to welcome our human exchange student with a grand, royal introduction. You know, something to set the tone! And then… poof! In they come, in nothing but a towel, demanding food and a nap! I couldn’t help but admire their spirit—who else would have the audacity to make demands of a demon lord? Honestly, I knew right then that they were going to make things very interesting around here.”

Barbatos

Barbatos watched with his usual calm demeanor, though his mind was already calculating what would be needed to accommodate this unexpectedly demanding guest. He was intrigued by their bluntness, a trait not often seen in someone so new to the Devildom. "It seems we have our work cut out for us. I’ll prepare something for them to wear and eat. This situation, unusual as it is, can be addressed once they’ve had the rest they need."

How he looks back on it now: Barbatos would smile subtly, a hint of amusement in his usually composed demeanor. “It was certainly… unexpected. I remember thinking, ‘Ah, this is going to be a challenge.’ I had prepared everything for a formal welcome, and suddenly I was considering where I could find suitable clothing on such short notice. But what really stood out was their confidence. They weren’t intimidated at all—just tired. It was almost endearing, in a way. Though I must admit, I’ve never had to prepare a royal feast for someone who was dripping on the floor before.”

The other characters after hearing of MC's dramatic arrival later -

Belphegor

Belphegor, still hidden away, was not present to witness the scene firsthand, but the way the human handled their introduction would later reach his ears. He would find it amusing, this tired human, dragged into a world they couldn’t possibly understand and still demanding rest. It would have made him laugh, perhaps even endeared them to him in a strange way, though he’d never admit it. “I think it's hilarious. They were so focused on getting some sleep, just like me. Honestly, I'm impressed. I don’t even care that they're human. Anyone who prioritizes a nap over everything else has their priorities straight in my book.”

Simeon

Simeon would laugh softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, MC. Only you could be summoned into a realm of demons in nothing but a towel and somehow manage to make demands! I can just imagine the look on Lucifer’s face. It’s impressive—you're like a stubborn ray of sunshine cutting through the darkest clouds. I’d love to have seen it!”

Luke

Luke would be flabbergasted, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and indignation. “They were summoned like that? That’s so unfair! I bet they were freezing! Who does that? Demons, apparently! But you know what? Good for them for telling those demons off! That’s what they deserve for being so unprepared. If I were there, I would’ve given them a piece of my mind too!”

Solomon

Solomon would be grinning, clearly amused by the whole scenario. “That’s classic MC—turning a moment of complete chaos into one where they’re the one calling the shots. I can just picture them standing there, dripping water all over the floor, and casually telling the future King of the Devildom that they need a nap. Honestly, it’s moments like this that make me glad I chose them as my apprentice. They’ve got the kind of audacity that most people can only dream of!”

Rapheal

Raphael, known for his serious demeanor, would hear about MC’s first arrival to the Devildom and probably raise an eyebrow, trying to picture the scene. "So, they appeared in a towel and demanded food and rest? Bold. Very bold." After a pause, he’d add with a rare smirk, "They might survive down here better than I thought."

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles, with his aristocratic air, would be caught between disbelief and amusement. “They really told Lucifer and Diavolo off in a towel? If only I could’ve seen that! The looks on their faces must’ve been priceless. Perhaps I’ll write a column about the ‘indecent’ summons of the human exchange student!” He’d chuckle at his own joke, imagining the uproar it would cause.

Thirteen

Thirteen, with her mischievous streak, would find the whole thing hilarious. “They really popped in like that? A towel, dripping water, and told everyone to get their act together? That’s brilliant! I would’ve loved to see everyone’s reaction. I bet Lucifer’s face turned fifty shades of red. I like this human already—got some real spunk!” She’d laugh, already planning some pranks inspired by the story.

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irisintheafterglow · 24 days ago

Text

HAND SEVEN - FULL HOUSE

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, the royal family is met and tensions rise.

wc: 4.1k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader (she/her used), explicit language, todoroki enji (derogatory), mentions of food, dinner, and eating, todoroki siblings cameo

note: i can't thank you all enough for your patience with the new parts of this series coming out. this one's a long one but it's the last chapter before shit hits the fan, so enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

“Dining with the royal family, hmm? Isn’t that exciting!” Your maid catches your eye in the reflection of your bedroom mirror and you give her a wary smile. “If I may, I do think you and His Highness make a wonderful match. You compliment each other nicely.”

“Well, this is everything I’ve wanted, right?” You can’t tell if the way your voice shakes is from nerves or the tightening strings of your corset, but you suddenly find it a struggle to have a complete intake of breath. “Goodness, I haven’t been this unsettled since he won the duel in the garden,” you laugh to disguise your panic, your poor oblivious maid humming to herself while she helps you into the next layer of your evening clothes. “Do you think the rest of the family is nice? I know he has a few brothers and a sister.”

“Oh, I think you’ll do just fine, dear, no matter who you meet,” she reassures you, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress with her hands. “You truly look radiant; if the prince doesn’t think so, I believe he must get his eyes examined.” Your face warms, memories of you examining his eyes in an incredibly unprofessional setting a few nights prior. Whatever you said had him turning to putty in your hands outside your window, hidden by the shadow of the large tree he’d climbed to retrieve you. Nothing physically intimate occurred beyond kissing, yet the thrill of it felt like you’d committed high treason. “Come along,” she says, pulling you from your daydream. “You mustn't miss your carriage. It should be prepared soon, I’m sure–” Her unapologetic gushing is interrupted by your footman positioning himself at the door, looking slightly uneasy.

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No, miss,” he says, shaking his head. He stutters as if fishing around in his brain to find the correct words. “There is, well…there is a–”

“It’s alright,” you gently commanded him. “Come now, spit it out.”

“Oh my days! Miss, there’s a royal carriage outside!” Your maid exclaims, her palms pressed to the glass. “With all due respect, I was under the impression that you were taking an estate carriage to the castle.”

“As was I,” you mutter, arriving at the windowsill to see a very smug looking Touya already peering up at you. He sends you a wink that has your maid clutching the window frame for support before disappearing into your house. You huff, catching a peek of yourself in a nearby mirror and yelping at your appearance, frantically remembering what you were doing before your suitor appeared. “Quickly, now! Let’s finish seasoning and basting so I look presentable when I face my doom at the palace.”

Your heart rate is extremely elevated by the time you’re finished with your dress, but you can’t tell if it’s from the excitement or the mere idea of seeing him again. A loud thump thump thump runs from one ear to the other through the back of your skull, your vision becoming slightly hazy with each step closer to the parlor. Your servants bow politely as you pass and dismiss themselves when you finally approach Touya, whom you find standing at the window overlooking the garden.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” you say softly, surveying the last beams of sunlight illuminating your flowers. “Enjoying the scenery?”

“Passing the time,” he supposes, turning to face you with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You look lovely in that shade.”

“His Highness, Prince Keigo, did say you had an affinity for blue.” Though your attention remains on the backyard, you can hear his eye roll from miles away.

“Please refrain from discussing Prince Bird-Brain; if it is alright with you, I’d like to have an enjoyable night,” he declares with diplomatic sincerity that makes you stifle a snort into your gloves.

“My apologies. How may I ever regain your favor?”

“I can think of several ways.” His eyes flick around the room like a prisoner counting guards, patiently waiting until you two are truly alone. That time would come five minutes later, when the carriage doors shut you inside and he’s on you before you can even blink.

“Missed me, I see,” you breathe against his lips as his fingers roam over the expensive fabric of your dress. Touya’s mouth is hot and urgent, consuming you entirely even though you’d been apart for less than three days. Your hands brush down the front panel of his coat and eventually wrap around his neck to pull him closer. “Is something ailing you? You’re feeling a little feverish.” He scoffs at your teasing, nipping your earlobe with a sharp canine.

“You are impossible,” he mutters with hungry eyes that rake over your exposed collarbone. His mouth starts to wander down the column of your neck with the obvious intention of leaving a mark (or seven). You’re one flirty comment away from tearing off your dress entirely when the carriage hits a bump, knocking you both upward and effectively ruining the atmosphere. You burst out laughing unexpectedly, even more when you see Touya’s displeased frown. “I’m going to execute whoever drove us over that.”

“Perhaps it’s a sign that we should recompose ourselves,” you say, tucking an unruly piece of white hair away from his face and pecking his cheek. The carriage slows its pace, and you peek out of the curtain to see the familiar happenings of the front gate. “I believe the turbulence was due to us crossing onto palace grounds, after all.”

“We weren’t done,” he grumbles like a child being denied candy at the market. Touya’s body is still pressed flush to yours, one arm braced against the carriage door while his forearm secures you against his chest. “I should tell them to take us around the back way.”

“As enticing of an offer that would be, we would also be late for our meal.”

“I’m offended you think I remotely care about the whole event.” The carriage comes to a complete halt and he pulls away, allowing you to smooth the wrinkles in your dress and re-tidy your jewelry.

“I’m going to need you to care, at least a teaspoon’s amount, or I’m sure I’ll burst into flames before dinner is served.” Reluctantly, the prince schools his face into practiced nonchalance, but the way his eyes burn like embers in a fireplace give away his continued desperation. You fight the urge to smirk when he can’t seem to stop sneaking glances at you, like it pained him to look away. “Don’t fret,” you murmur, pressing one more chaste kiss to his cheek while he glares at the approaching commotion outside. “We’ll pick up where we left off…when we are not needed elsewhere.”

“I intend to hold you to that promise.”

—

After hurriedly fixing the bunching of your clothes and stepping out of the carriage with the help of Touya’s hand, you’re guided up the sweeping front steps of the palace and toward what you assume is the dining room. Your hand remains fixed in the prince’s arm, the crushed velvet of his blue coat soft beneath your fingers. When he ducks close to whisper in your ear, you’re sure you can hear him smirk at the goosebumps the proximity gives you.

“Nervous?”

“I’d be untruthful if I denied it,” you answer carefully, eyeing nearby servants undoubtedly spreading news of your arrival. His breath is warm next to your ear and you’re unsure if the heat in your cheeks is from your suitor or the dozens of prying eyes. “Are we nearing the dining hall?”

“Actually, we’re just passing it. My siblings would like to meet you first,” he explains with only the slightest bit of reluctance, nearly imperceptible if you didn’t know how to read the subtle changes in his expressions. “Would you like to see it?” He knows your reply and pulls you to a towering pair of double doors just to your right, adjacent to glass windows overlooking the garden where he’d dueled for your hand all those weeks ago. As he swings open one door just enough for you to peek inside, you can’t help but gasp.

Prior to that night, you’d never seen a room sparkle before. Sure, the bathroom tiles would have a certain shine to them right after they’ve been cleaned or your stepmother’s jewelry would catch the light in a starlike way, but you’d never seen a room where absolutely everything was glittering. Gold trimmed the walls, the extensive table, the backs of chairs, and the circumference of the dinner plates. As you took barely a step into the room, your shoe sinks into plush red carpet, perfectly stainless and the only texture in the room without glimmer. Everything seemed to be encrusted in diamonds, yet smooth and almost glowing from the soft candlelight and the fading evening sun.

“This is beyond beautiful,” you breathe and you turn, once again, to find Touya watching you rather than the room he’d dined in thousands of times. “I can’t help but feel the room is better dressed than me,” you joke and he shakes his head in firm disagreement.

“It’s a very good thing I’m courting you and not the room, then,” he quips before taking your hand back into the crook of his arm. “You must wait until I take you into the ballroom. I believe we’ll need a doctor standing by in case you faint from its beauty.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the tug at the corner of your mouth. “Now that I think of it, are you marrying me for my looks or my furniture?”

“I’m not marrying you at all, remember?” The answer leaves your mouth before you can stop it and an odd look blinks onto Touya’s face, something you only saw when he folds in poker hands he surely would have won if he only waited for the last community cards. You’re on the verge of thinking you imagined the look when his arm tightens under your hand, like he was making sure you weren’t pulling away. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he says quickly with a rare smile that’s almost good enough to fool you. “Nothing at all.” Before you can answer, your guide swings open another set of smaller double doors at the end of a hallway which leads into what you assume is a parlor. The windows of the parlor faced the back of the castle, lush with grass and shimmering blue fountains between the bushes. Your admiration of the back lawn, however, is cut short by hushed bickering to your left. When you finally look over from where you stand in the entryway with Touya, three people snap into a perfectly-postured line. Your suitor sighs audibly through his nose, running a hand down his face with his free hand. “I would like you to meet my three younger siblings: Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shoto.”

“Your Highnesses,” you greet politely.

“You arrived late. Was there a delay with the carriage?” Another figure stands from a side table, shorter than the siblings but carrying more maturity than the whole room combined.

“Our older brother is sick easily in carriages, don’t you remember, mother?” The middle brother, Natsuo, says earnestly but the jab at his older brother is not lost on you. He grunts in protest when his eldest sister, Fuyumi, strikes his side with her elbow. Touya clicks his tongue decisively and the siblings fall back in line, and you catch Shoto’s eyes scanning you like a curious cat. He’s quiet, you think to yourself, like if Touya’s calculating nature was encompassed in a teenage boy.

“And my mother, Queen Rei,” Touya eventually continued, his voice softer than when he addressed his siblings. You muster your best curtsy as she approaches, surprised when her cold hand tilts your chin upward, seemingly to inspect you. “Mother…” he begins with a tone of warning, but she shushes him insistently. You can practically hear the muscle in Touya’s jaw clench and resist the urge to burst out laughing; no one, not even you, had the authority to shush him. No one, that is, except the one who birthed him.

“Your Majesty,” you murmur to break the tense silence as her unwavering gaze examines your face. “It is an honor. There is a gift for you, and–”

“The honor is all mine,” she breaks in before you can continue. Her voice is softer than powdered snow, in stark contrast to Touya’s dark rasp. “My son refuses to tell us anything about you, so finally making your acquaintance is a gift in itself.”

“His Highness informed me of your shared affinity for blue, so I hope you will enjoy the few delphinium stems I’ve brought from my family’s garden.”

“I was just about to thank you for the flowers,” she smiles, lightly cupping the side of your face. Her palm is freezing, nothing like Touya’s naturally warm-running body, yet you can see where he receives his gentler side. “You are a fine counterpart for my hotheaded firstborn.” You finally break a small laugh when you hear Touya’s indignant squawk behind you, and the queen uses this chance to pull you away from him. “My second-eldest and only daughter, Fuyumi,” she introduces as she brings you to the princess.

“Your Highness,” you curtsy and risk a glance over your shoulder to find Touya standing with his hands on his hips and impatiently tapping his foot.

“You’ve brought a softer side out of our big brother,” Fuyumi informs you with a knowing smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Rei gestures to her next child.

“My second son, Natsuo. He takes care of me when we are away in the countryside.” His mother pats the side of her son’s cheek and moves on before he can comment, much to his surprise and Touya’s unseen amusement. “And my youngest, Shoto. He is next in line to be king after Touya.”

“Not His Highness?”

“Natsuo abdicated the throne when I became…” She pauses and her children stiffen. Touya clears his throat from behind you. When you turn to meet his eyes, he’s watching the polished wooden floorboards. “When I became ill. I had to stay in the countryside for a time. Only recently have I been well enough to return to the palace.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Your Majesty.” You’d have to wait until later to interrogate Touya about his family drama, but you couldn’t imagine such a fragile and gentle looking woman like the queen becoming so sick she had to leave the city. “How does your health fare now?”

“Better than the past. I’m thankful every day I get to see Touya join society as an eligible suitor.”

“As piss-poor as he is at it,” Natsuo mumbles and both Shoto and Fuyumi strike his ribs with their elbows. It’s no use, as Touya decides from behind you that he’s finally had enough and crosses the parlor in four long strides, his boots thudding heavily against the floor. Natsuo yelps and hurries away, Shoto quietly trailing behind to witness the carnage while his two older brothers disappear yelling down a back hallway.

“Forgive them, please,” the queen implores you with a tired smile. “It’s been a long time since we hosted such a large dinner, especially as a family, and they don’t know how to act.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I am accustomed to Touya–I mean His Highness’ antics.” You hope your correction isn’t as bumbling as it sounds in your head, but your worries are eased by the appreciative expressions from the queen and princess.

“As my oldest brother is predisposed, shall mother and I show you the rest of the palace?” In a distant room, there is a crash and the telltale sign of a teenage prince screaming in fear. The women with you are unfazed and merely shake their heads.

“I would love nothing more.”

—

“How nice of you to finally join us,” you murmur when Touya finally slides into the seat beside you at the dining table. “Finished tormenting your little brother?”

“I would not label it torment,” he argues, picking up a nearby carafe of water and pouring your glass, then his. “I am merely reciprocating the affection that he gives me.”

“And by definition, that is torment,” you counter and he chuckles. As the king was still absent from the head of the table, food was not to be served, yet the hunger in your gut could not fight the fluttering that occurred whenever Touya was with you.

“How was viewing the remainder of the palace?”

“Unexpectedly overwhelming,” you admit. Truthfully, you could not name half of the rooms you visited if there was a saber to your jugular. There were countless bedrooms for the royal family and servants alike, sitting areas, libraries, practice rooms for the pianoforte, and an infinite number of toilet rooms; all the rooms were dressed to the level of the dining room that you were in now, shimmering in gold and expensively dyed drapes. “Up until this point, I’ve only known the outside gardens. Even then, Her Majesty informed me that she has a private greenhouse at the back of the property for her most special flowers.”

“I can take you there after dinner, if you’d like. Mother will insist upon chaperoning us, however, if that’s alright with you.”

“We’ve had good fortune with not needing a chaperone when we are together,” you comment and he nods in agreement.

“I’m the eldest as well as the problem child; it’s no wonder no one wants to babysit me.” You open your mouth to make a retort but are interrupted by the staccato notes of a horn announcing the king’s impending arrival.

Rise for His Majesty, King Todoroki Enji, and Her Majesty, Queen Todoroki Rei.

Whether you grab Touya’s hand or he grabs yours first, you can’t remember, but your fingers are tightly laced in his by the time all the guests in the room stand to receive the king. Though you can’t tell how hard you’re squeezing him, you feel him gripping you like a ship’s rope in a storm. And how could he not? Everyone in the room felt a suffocating sense of unease from the moment the king stepped through the doors and until the Queen was at his side. King Enji seemed even more intimidating than the last time you’d seen him, when you looked him in the face and told him that Her Majesty was a queen, not simply a wife of a king. He was built like the barrels Rei and Fuyumi had shown you in the cellar that held gallons upon gallons of alcohol, and his whole atmosphere burned constantly in a way comparable to Touya’s most intense moods. You felt as if you could spontaneously combust if you made contact with the king too long.

You glance at Touya from the corner of your eye, suddenly self-conscious that he’s sitting with you and not at his father’s side, where he should be. Despite his death grip on your hand, the rest of his demeanor is otherwise cooler than you’d ever seen him, especially for a royal event. It was like having you by his side was making him more…confident?

“You’re doing wonderfully,” the prince murmurs in your ear once the king is seated and the meal commenced. “Just stay by my side and we’ll be escaping before you know it.”

“He scares me,” you blurt before shoving a forkful of food into your mouth to keep yourself from saying anything else stupid. Touya huffs a quiet laugh, leaning close in a way that has Rei winking at Fuyumi from across the table.

“That makes two of us. Although, I’m considerably less fearful when you’re with me.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Shall we eat and ‘escape,’ as you say, faster?”

“I’ll tell the servants we’ll take dessert in the garden.”

—

You should have learned by now that outings with Touya, whether it was of royal nature or merely two people courting, are never as smooth as you hope for them to be. The realization hits you when your suitor momentarily disappears to find his mother and invite her for tea, and the king approaches you within seconds to fill the space. Even if you were a different height, the king would still tower over you like a mountain blocking out the sun, casting you in darkness that made you want to hide in a cave. Maybe this is how rabbits feel when they’re being stalked by a mountain lion.

“Walk with me.” It’s not a request.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you reply with as little emotion as possible. You hope Touya could see you leaving with his father, or perhaps one of his siblings is around to update him so you can get out of this trap. The king doesn’t force you to go far, only out to a secluded balcony that overlooks the back gardens. The night air is crisp and smells of many flowers, the soft sound of water rushing from the fountains blending with the melodic calls of songbirds. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, as still as a model for a portrait painting.

“Touya is in line to be king.” He says this as a fact, an obvious statement that you are both well aware of. Your mind is racing and simultaneously not functioning at all, looking for an escape route and rooted in place. While Touya’s voice is raspy like charred firewood and his mother’s like light snowfall, the king’s voice is grating and hard, like grinding two stones together. It makes your stomach turn over in a messy somersault.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You don’t know what else to say.

“He does not want to be king.”

“Yes, Your Majes–How do you know?” His eye darts to look at you and you force your attention anywhere but him, on the grass or the flowers or the birds that were starting to sound like a hundred boiling kettles.

“You do not know the truth of why he disappeared.”

“I have not earned the right to ask,” you counter, a sudden indignance rising to your head as you feel the need to defend the nature of your relationship to Touya.

“He defies me. Since he was a child, he has defied me and my efforts to train him to become a just king.” Not sure waging a not-so-secret war on the Kingdom of Might counts as being a just king, asshole. “His actions defy my wishes. His choice in acquaintances,” he pauses again and looks at you briefly as an example, “Defy my wishes. His travels defy my wishes.” Maybe his actions aren’t yours to control, then.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“He has traveled every path to rebel against me and this family. Soon, I could imagine him coming for my life to guarantee his freedom.” A hot lick of anger flares inside your chest and you silently seethe next to the king, your limbs aching from how tense your body has become. You have no right to decide what your son thinks.

“Is that a possible situation, Your Majesty?”

“You question my judgment?” You wouldn’t be surprised if your mouth tastes like blood from how hard you’re biting your tongue.

“I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty.”

“I will make one thing clear, as he is bound to come for you soon: You are another avenue for him to defy me, and nothing more. Whatever he has told you, shown you, revealed to you is all a means to an end in order to cause me suffering.” Despite all your attempts to quiet the doubt in your mind, the king’s words make your stiffness turn brittle; you may fall over and shatter like a concrete statue if pushed over at the right angle. “Ask yourself how much Touya has really told you about himself, and if you are satisfied to be complicit in his actions to undermine me.” Complicit. To be involved in a crime or wrongdoing. To love Touya Todoroki is to be a criminal.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Touya doesn’t ask why your mouth has clamped shut in the time it took for him to find his mother and return, nor does he pry when your smiles seem more strained than before. It was inevitable, he told himself. He was sure you could feel the same dread that he did, the looming danger that you were desperately pretending wasn’t there. As you approached the final ball of the season, both your stacks were becoming higher and higher until one of you would be forced to present an ultimatum: all or nothing.

Who will give their all, and who will lose everything?

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #touya x you #touya x reader #touya x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n

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hahaifolded · 4 months ago

Text

Close Friends - Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x POC!Fem Reader

Summary: Gaz has a huge crush on you but is too scared to talk to you. You, accidentally, give him a way in. Tags/Warnings: MDNI. Fluff, Suggestive Themes, Military Inaccuracies, Technically Internet Stalking, Lots of talk of Social Media, Dancing, Reader knows Spanish and listens to Karol G (trust me, it'll make sense) Word Count: 4036

"And that's everything I found. Any questions?" you asked as you reached the end of your slideshow. Immediately, Captain Price raised his hand, eyes looking down at his notepad. Kyle knew that he should be pay attention to the conversation but he couldn't help but stare at your lips. He wondered what those lips shared when not at work, when you were not being a active member of the SAS intelligence team.

He still remembered the first time you presented an intelligence brief to the Taskforce. You were confident and certain of your findings. When Price began to question your information, you snapped back and held your ground. And thank god, you did, because if Price had his way, that mission would have been devastating for the team.

Since then, Kyle took a liking to you. And it seems that many on base did too as many people naturally gravitated towards you. On many occasions, he saw people enter your office with a scowl and leave with a smile instead. He's even considered going into your office a few times to see what he would leave with.

However, despite constantly being at death's doorstep, Kyle found himself unable to talk to you. Every time you looked at him with those kind eyes, his mouth would run dry and all words would escape him.

How he wanted just one chance to get to know the real you. The you that after 5pm goes off to do whatever they want. The you that probably has interests and passions outside of work. The you that lets loose and shares her infinite love with the world. The you that would look perfect wrapped about his arm, making Gaz the luckiest man alive. The you that would look sinful under him. The you that would moan his name over... and over... and over.

"Kyle... Kyle..."

"GAZ!" Soap's voice interrupted him from his thoughts.

"Yeah. I mean, yes," he said, trying to mask the fact that he was lost in his thoughts.

"Our little spy here was trying to ask you a question," he said with a small smirk on his face. Soap knew exactly what Gaz was thinking. The lovestruck sergeant sheepishly looked at you, ashamed that he missed your question just because he was too busy thinking of you in such a delicious position.

"Yes (Y/N)?" he asked. You repeated your question but once again Gaz didn't hear it, too focused on your lips again. Fuck was he screwed.

-- -- --

Boisterous laugher filled the sergeant's shared room.

"I can't believe you. The poor lass had to repeat her question 3 times until you finally heard her. I know you like her, but get it together," said Soap through broken laughter.

"Shut up," whined out Gaz. He laid on his bed, face covered by his pillow. He felt horrible. You probably thought he was a weirdo or worse, incompetent.

"And the worst part here is that you've never spoke to the lass."

"That's not true!"

"Mission briefings don't count." Gaz let out a huff as he knew the Scot had won.

"But, as the best sergeant on this team, I have decided to help you out," proclaimed the mohawk-wielding soldier. Gaz felt his bed dip as Soap sat on the edge of it.

"Woah, get off! Your thick arse is gonna break it," fought Gaz.

Soap told his teammate to calm down as he threw the lovesick man's pillow to the floor. Before Gaz could retaliate, the Scotsman shoved his phone into his face. With a quick glance, Kyle recognized it to be an Instagram profile.

"And how is this going to help?" he asked with annoyance in his voice. Soap was really testing his patience today.

Soap rolled his eyes. "Well, if you looked closer, maybe you'll see how." Gaz looked at it again and shot up in bed, snatching the other sergeant's phone. He couldn't believe it. On Soap's phone was your personal Instagram account that so happened to be following Soap and some other account he didn't recognize, but Soap followed.

"How?" Your username wasn't a version of your name so obviously Soap had to do some digging.

"Asked her after you ran away from today's brief." Gaz quickly scrolled your profile. It felt wrong to see you outside of work. He's never seen you so carefree. Your profile was littered with pictures of you with friends, food, and your interests.

However, before Kyle could really get a good look at your profile, Soap took his phone back. Kyle called him out in frustration. "Ah, ah, ah... if you want to stalk, follow her on your account." Gaz felt his stomach sink. Soap sensed his hesitation. "And before you say anything, Ghost and I already follow her so it won't look weird if you do too."

Kyle pulled out his phone and slowly typed your username in the search bar. You immediately popped up. He felt his throat dry up. He looked up to see Soap's wide grin right in his face, egging him on. With a rush of adrenaline, Gaz clicked follow and immediately locked his lock screen.

If Soap wasn't in the room, he would have squealed like a school kid. However, his excitement immediately turned into anxiety as he started to doubt his action. Should he have followed you? Sure, Soap and Ghost follow you, but you talk more to Soap and honestly who wouldn't let the scary lieutenant follow them back?

Before Kyle couldn't really spiral, his phone lit up with an Instagram notification. You just followed him back. He stuffed his face into his bed, in the hopes that it would muffle his squealing.

-- -- --

Since you accepted Kyle's follow request, the lovestruck fool found himself obsessed. On a regular basis, he would check your account, waiting for whatever tidbit of your life you were going to share with him.

However, very early on, he realized you uploaded more on your stories than on your actual dashboard. It was really refreshing to see you go on with your day and post the most mundane things. It was fairly normal, very reserved just like you at work. Until one day, you posted something much more personal.

Gaz had just finished eating breakfast. As he took his last bite, he decided to scroll Instagram for a bit to pass the time before today's briefing. Which was perfect timing as it looked like you just posted on your story. He opened it and was greeted to an unfamiliar sight. Instead of a picture of your smiling face, it was a photo of you in the bathroom with tears running down your face.

Kyle's chest tightened. What happened? Who did this to you? He recognized those bathrooms. They looked like the ones that were here on base. He gazed down and saw your caption: boss just yelled at me and said im useless. does this mean I should look for a new job? Kyle was ready to start a war in your name over this.

However, before Gaz could declare war, he took a moment to think. You never post such vulnerable things on your Instagram. Maybe a dumb selfie here and there, but never anything too personal. He looked at your story one more time and noticed the green icon in the corner. It finally clicked. You must have added him to your Close Friends by accident.

As Gaz left the mess hall, he contemplated on what to do. You two were not 'close friends' by any means so maybe he should tell you. He could even save you the embarrassment and avoid mentioning how he saw your post this morning. Set on telling you, he made his way to the intelligence team's offices.

However, before Kyle reached your office, he found himself face to face with your direct superior. He saw red as he recalled your teary face.

"Hey!" he called out with some gruff in his voice.

"Gaz, what do I owe the pleasure?" your superior asked with bright smile. How could he smile like that after making you cry?

"It's Sergeant Garrick to you," Gaz barked out. Kyle wasn't one to bring up rank, but for you, he would make an exception. "I have a question for you." He was now standing in front of your boss, completely towering over him.

"Yes, Sergeant Garrick. My apologies. Um, what can I do for you... sir?" rushed out your boss, all flustered.

"What can you tell me about (Y/L/N)?"

"Well... she's been on the team for about a year now. Has a decent work ethic. Seems to get along with many members on the team... ummm. Is there anything you specifically want to know? We can step into my office and I can pull up her fi--"

The sergeant interrupted him. "No need." He moved further in your boss's space, pushing him back a bit. "Just wanted to make sure you knew who the 141 will be advocating for promotion on the intelligence team."

"Excuse me, sir?" your boss squeaked out.

"(Y/L/N) has been nothing but vital to the Taskforce's recent successes. Without her and her work, we would have failed to complete our objectives or worse, lost men." Now the next part was not a complete lie, as Price had offhandedly mentioned it the other day. "That's why we're recommending her for the supervisor position that just opened up on your team."

Your boss feebly spoke up. "No offense at all, sir, to you or the 141, but it's in my professional opinion that I believe that position should be filled by someone with a little more experience."

"You mean a muppet like you?" Gaz spat back. He got in your superior's face. "Let me make this clear, (Y/L/N) has proved to be much more useful to this base than you ever have during your entire tenure here. I'd advise you to step aside and make sure that (Y/L/N) gets that position, understood?"

Your boss immediately surrendered. He nodded his head furiously and asked the sergeant if that was all. As soon as Gaz let him go, your boss scurried off. He was in such a hurry, he nearly crashed into Soap.

"Knew you'd be here!" announced Soap as he saw Gaz near your office. "Let's go! Meeting is about to start."

With the meeting and subsequent training, Gaz forgot about the close friends debacle. As he returned to his room and opened his phone, he suddenly remembered why he went by your office today.

"Fuck!" Gaz yelled out. He opened instagram, opting to just send you a quick message about it. Again like this morning, your story was the first on his feed. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he opened it and saw a picture of your office. The caption read: my boss apologized and I might get a promotion now. don't know what happened but thank you universe.

Gaz couldn't help but smile. You thanked him. Well, technically, you didn't thank him necessarily, but his actions made your day. Kyle realized that maybe his promotion as your 'close friend' might prove to be useful to him. So like any good soldier, he was going to use his resources to the max to accomplish his goal. And his goal now was to get to know you.

-- -- --

Sunday Night

Sunday night comes around and Gaz is tired. He's ready for a good night's sleep. However, that little itch to see you started to flare up the minute he laid on his bed. Assuring himself that a little peak wouldn't hurt, Kyle grabbed his phone.

Almost like you knew he'd be on, you had just posted a story. It was a picture of your laptop with a picture of some new show that Gaz had seen some clips of. Next to your laptop was a bowl of popcorn and your water bottle that you would always carry. The caption read: new season dropped! I have no choice but to binge watch it all tonight. Will probably regret this in the morning :D.

That's cute, thought Gaz. You looked so cozy as you got ready to watch your show. And just like that, Kyle had an epiphany. He grabbed his laptop and got to work

Monday Morning

Gaz walked into the conference room with a little less spring in his step. However, as soon as his eyes hit you, he immediately straightened his posture and shot you a warm greeting.

"Hi Gaz," you shot back with a genuine grin. You quickly focused your attention back to your laptop as you prepared for today's intelligence briefing.

Kyle took the seat closest to you with the goal of putting his plan in motion. Pretending to not notice his fellow sergeant or lieutenant, Gaz began to yawn obnoxiously loud. He had to do it a couple of times as you failed to notice each time. As he started to get embarrassed by the exaggerated yawning, Ghost spoke up.

"What's with you?" asked the lieutenant with an unamused tone. This would have to do. The yawning sergeant apologized and blamed it on the fact that he stayed up watching the newest season of a show, your show to be exact.

And just how he planned it, your attention was piqued as you stopped what you were doing and joined the conversation.

"Wait, you watch it too?" you asked with a glimmer in your eyes.

"Of course!" replied Gaz as if he had been watching this show for years, instead of just last night. You were about to say something else, but to Kyle's luck, Captain Price walked in, signaling it was time to start the meeting. However, before things officially started, you assured him that you two would talk later.

One point for Kyle.

Tuesday Morning

With an hour before lunch, you ranted a bit on your story, complaining about how you forgot to bring lunch and you were now craving for Indian food. Once again, seeing an opportunity, Kyle made a quick phone call.

Now with a bag in each hand, Kyle made his way to your office. Using his feet, he gently knocked on the door. Hearing you yell a come in, Gaz walked in with his winning smile.

"Hey, I am so sorry to bother you," Gaz sheepishly said.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh please, as if my favorite sergeant on base could ever bother me." Kyle nearly kissed you.

After stabilizing himself, your favorite sergeant spoke up again. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone who likes Indian food here? I ordered some for lunch and they accidentally gave me more than I ordered. No one on the team likes it and I would hate to see it go to waste."

He didn't think it was possible but your eyes lit up even more. "You're just in luck. I love Indian food. Take a seat!" And with that, Kyle was able to have you for an hour all to himself. The conversation ranged from work to food to wild stories of things you've both witnessed out in the field. Gaz doesn't think he's heard you laugh so much before. How he wanted to hear it everyday.

Feeling like the lunch went great, Kyle deemed it perfect to ask you on a dinner date. However, before he had a chance to open his mouth, a curious Scotsman opened your door.

"Hey (Y/N), have you seen-- oh, there you are. I've been looking for you," announced Soap without a care in the world. The other sergeant's eyes scanned your desk and caught sight of the takeaway containers.

"Did you get Indian without me? You know how much I love Indian," he whined. Gaz was going to kill him.

-- -- --

Wednesday Night

It was nearly 2am and Kyle found himself unable to fall asleep. His mind was filled with thoughts about you and this little plan of his. He wasn't sure what the end goal was. Would he stop after he asked you out or keep it going until you notice? And if you notice, would you figure out what he's been doing and confront him or in a weird, twisted way maybe be flattered? With all of these questions, Gaz found himself unable to sleep.

Seeing that his mind wasn't going to let him rest anytime soon, he grabbed his phone and decided to scroll that cursed app once more. After mindlessly scrolling for a bit, he noticed your story light up.

Oh shit, she's awake, he thought, surprised to see you active. Not wanting to look like a creep, Gaz decided to lock his phone. Or at least tried, as instead of locking his phone, he dropped it above his face. He quickly grabbed it to save his face but accidentally opened your story. Seeing it was now open, he decided to take a peak. And thank God he did.

It was a picture of you in front of your bedroom mirror. The lights in your room was off so you were mostly a silhouette. Your back was to the mirror and completely bare. Your face was slightly turned to the side, neither facing forward or backward. You were sat on your knees, your pajama shorts leaving absolutely nothing for the imagination. You had one arm on wrapping the front of your chest and another holding your phone. The picture had Kyle's head spinning, but the final nail in the coffin was your caption: fuck I really need you right now.

Kyle almost screenshotted your picture... almost. He couldn't believe it. There you were, gorgeous and clearly in need. Has he imagined you in similar positions? Of course, but actually seeing it was so much better. It must been even better, nearly divine, if he saw it in person. Gaz read your caption once more and it hit him like a bucket of ice cold water.

I need you. Shutting off his phone, he wondered who was the "you" you were referring to? Did you have a lover? Did someone else have the honor of calling you theirs?

Oh no! This had to be an accident. You probably meant to send this to someone and accidentally posted it on your Close Friends. Now Gaz was conflicted.

On one hand, you're probably going to be embarrassed if anyone else saw this. He should be a good friend and tell you so you can delete it. But, if he told you, you'd find find out about Kyle being on your close friends and maybe remove him. Realizing that your happiness was much more important here, Gaz decided to tell you.

He opened Instagram once more to text you. But before he could, he saw that you had deleted your story. Maybe someone already told you? Maybe that "you" you were referring to did? Or maybe, you noticed yourself which means you probably noticed Gaz see your story? Fuck.

Thursday

Kyle avoided you, both out of guilt and shame.

Friday Night

Gaz had a long day. After finishing today's grueling workout circuit and taking a much needed hot shower, Kyle decided to treat himself with something pretty... your Instagram. It seemed like you had posted your entire afternoon since you got off of work. First a picture of your coffee that you grabbed from some place in town, and then an entire get-ready-with-me spree. Pictures of you getting ready to shower, moisturizing, and getting dressed, because it seemed like you were going clubbing tonight.

And to Kyle's delight, you posted various clips of you, showing off your outfit. It made Gaz' entire body burn seeing you in such a pretty outfit. It was nothing like what you wore to work.

However, the next picture had Kyle seething. You took a pic of the club's entrance, its name in the frame, with the caption: Hope he snatches me up tonight! Gaz was jealous. If anyone should be claiming you tonight, it should be him. Actually, it can be him. He ran to his closet and got changed.

-- -- --

It's been awhile since Gaz had been to a club. He forgot how crowed it can get. Inside, bodies were pressed against one another and the smoke made it hard to see. The music was blaring, stimulating everyone to dance on one another. The entire place reeked of smoke, sweat, and sex. Despite being one of the tallest humans in the place, Kyle had a hard time seeing you.

Feeling like it was a lost cause, Kyle heard a distinct cheering to his side. After quickly glancing, his breath got caught in his throat. You were to his side, surrounded by a small group of people, dancing to the beat of the music. Your hips moving side to side, up and down, your hands gliding across your body sensually. Gaz was in awe.

Suddenly, your eyes met him. You shot him a sly wink and beckoned him over with a nod. You slowly made your way deeper in the crowd, ushering him to follow you. Like any good soldier, Kyle followed.

As Kyle came up behind you, QLONA by Karol G started playing. He gently taps your shoulder to grab your attention. You turn around and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his body closer to yours. You started to sway to the music, coaxing him to do the same. He immediately followed your lead and pulled you in closer so your bodies were practically touching. Gaz had to be dreaming.

You pulled him slightly down so your mouth was just at his ear. Singing along with the song, you purred in his ear, "qué hijueputas ganas tengo de besarte. te vi en una foto y te imaginé sin ropa. te mentiría si no estoy loca por verte." Kyle wasn't 100% sure what you or the song was saying, but all he knew was that he really liked you close to his ear.

You flipped around and with one arm still wrapped around his neck, you grinded against him, still following the beat of the music. Not expecting it, Kyle stilled. But quickly realizing this was his chance, he grabbed your waist and danced with you.

At this point, Kyle didn't care if you had someone. He was here now and no one was going to take you from him. You were his.

As the song came towards its end, you turned back around and pulled him down to whisper in his ear once more, "te mentiría si no estoy loca por verte." You finished the line with a giggle. With the song over and the next one immediately starting, Kyle kept you in his embrace, his head resting against yours.

You both faced each other and said hi at the same time. You both laughed as you were both a little shy despite just dancing against one another.

"Fancy seeing you here," Kyle started. He decided to play it cool.

You laid your head on his chest and laughed. "I'm glad you got my message." What. Kyle was confused. You looked up at him with slight mischief in your eyes. Kyle's eyes must have given him away as you laughed again. "Did your really think I wouldn't notice? It's literally my job to notice things"

"So you knew this whole time?"

"No. Not at first. But after the surprise Indian food, I realized my mistake." Kyle froze, feeling guilty for not telling you sooner. You sensed his hesitation and slightly tightened your hold on him. "But don't worry, I'm actually glad it happened. I've been wanting to get to know you for awhile." Kyle relaxed again.

However, he had a sudden thought. "And what about the--"

"The racy picture? I may have wanted to a little more than your attention. So maybe I removed everyone else and tried to tempt you. You're not the only one who knows how to use their resources."

Kyle groaned. You were a clever one. "Fuck, I could eat you up."

"What's stopping you?" You batted your eyes to the sergeant.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Kyle pulled you in close and asked, "Your place or mine?"

Thanks for reading! - Fold's Page Guide + Masterlist

Author's Notes: I had a little freakout yesterday on this fic cause I was scared it was too long. Personally, I'm happy with it now, but y'all can let me know!

Also if y'all don't listen to Karol G, START! QLONA here is a banger and most of her music too! I considered adding the English translation above but that's gross. So here it is below. Don't kill me if it's slightly off - I decided to translate it. Hopefully y'all get why I included this song!

First time: I really want to fucking kiss you. I saw your picture and I imagined you without clothes. I would be lying if I wasn't craving to see you

Second time: I would be lying if I wasn't excited to see you

Spanish speakers, how the fuck do you translate "loca por verte" cause "crazy to see you" just seems wrong to me?

Also is Kyle out of character? I think he's more jovial here but is that wrong? Do let me know!

Hope y'all enjoyed!

#kyle gaz x reader #gaz x reader #cod x poc!reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x y/n #cod fanfic #gaz x female reader #kyle garrick x y/n #Kyle Garrick x poc!reader #gaz x poc!reader #cod x reader

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trials-of-a-spirit-worker · 1 year ago

Text

Spirit Work Basics

You voted, I listened. I meant it. So buckle up as we go through the basics of Spirit Work.

I've touched on this on other posts but I'll make a massive post here. This is not going to explain everything and will still be pretty broad. Cause I do not have the time, the knowledge, nor patience to try and explain EVERYTHING.

But I do hope it helps.

Look under the tags advice, spirit communication, spirit work for more detail.

So hello, I'm Sol. I've been working with spirits since I realized I was speaking with them. I had the gift since I was a young child, first spirit I saw being my grandfather on my father's side shortly after he passed away. He was a pastor, supposedly, I was doing the best I could to repeat his favorite verses despite me being a small little shit. I don't remember the verses, I do remember speaking to him a lot however.

Which is where we'll begin, how to speak to spirits.

Maybe she's born with it? Maybe it's insanity~♪

Well, how do we begin with speaking with spirits? There's a number of ways, actually. Some do have the natural ability, like myself but that shouldn't discourage people who are newly trying and don't have that natural affinity for it. Spirits can and will talk to anyone if you open yourself up. Just takes a bit of work. But Sol, you may ask, how do I do that?

If you've been on witchblr for a bit you know what I'm about to say next: Yup.

Meditate.

Now listen, meditation is a way to open yourself up to the spirits around you or just at least signal "hey, I'm open to talk to." It gives you a good sense of your own energy and the energy around you. Meditation doesn't have one look either. A lot of people can't just sit still and kept their legs crossed or be on their knees with their eyes closed (I see you ADHD/ADD people). Hell, my lazy ass will meditate lying down.

Literally the definition of Meditation: to engage in mental exercise (such as concentration on one's breathing or repetition of a mantra) for the purpose of reaching a heightened level of spiritual awareness. transitive verb. : to focus one's thoughts on : reflect on or ponder over. (merriam webster)

It's pretty broad, right? Hell, you can even work out and meditate. I do it all the time. Cause I focus on my breathing and the feeling of energy through my body. Basically you can get creative with it.

While you're meditating, make sure you're feeling your own energy. This can come in a number of ways; waves, your heartbeat, a feeling of something cloaking you etc. While you have that feeling down, envision an opening, whether its a door, or just acknowledging you're reaching out to the other side. Whether or not you get an answer back, you are putting yourself out there and that's half the battle done. Just be sure to know how to close yourself and ward your body. Spirit work and opening yourself like that is no joke and I'd like you to be safe.

To do that, just envision whatever you had opened closed or recede back or whatever you used that worked for you.

Signs to Look for

Some of the more common tells of a spirit hearing and trying to communicate are of the following:

Small echos/voices in the back of your head

Random thoughts that may not be your own

Knocks or things shuffling

Strange dreams

Small phantom touches

Feelings of being watched

And Many More!

"But Sol," some of you might say, "that's really fucking vague and could just be explained away."

Yeah...welcome to spirit work. You thought this shit was easy?!

You have to work on your discernment. It is a skill needed for this type of work.

Seems counterproductive, but it's not! See, if every bump and noise was reported as ghosts or spirits, well...we'd be even less believed than we already are. When doing spirit work, or ghost hunting, you are stuck with the burden of proof and it's a huge burden to have. This is why people ask for repeats of actions, to speak again in recorders and other things. We're asking for repetition, because science is prevalent, especially in spiritualism and occultism. We have to be our own skeptics so when we have something that can't be explained away, we truly have something to celebrate.

Tools on the Job

No one said you had to do this all on vibes. No shame in using tools. I'll more than likely take the time to make specific posts about each tool in the future cause this post is already really long but I'll give you a nice rundown of basic tools.

By the way anyone who tries to shame you for using tools or says "only trainee or baby witches use this or that" are tools themselves (not the good or useful kind) and should not be given the time of day. Tools are fine. Use them for help if you need it because that's what the fuck a tool is for.

Now these aren't all the tools you can use but I'll give you some well known ones. I've seen witches get real creative and it's honestly super cool watching them use strange things that you'd never think about as a witchcraft tool. But that's what makes it so fun.

Tarot cards

Tarot is something I often use. 78 cards all with different meanings. There's many many ways to interpret them and multiple themes that many of them have.

My best advice for these are to just look up the overall meanings both upright and reversed just to have a general consensus of each card. Play around with them a lot, and interpret them the way you would as if you were making a story with them. You can also use them for spirit communication.

Calling forth a spirit allowing them to touch the deck (just leave it for a moment and allow them to influence the deck as it were before doing the spread). Holds a lot of power in your hands but is a little slow.

Pendulum

A pendulum is usually a crystal tied to a string or a chain that can be swung over a board of either yes or no or maybe for its options. Sometimes there is a mock ouija for the pendulum to spell out things as well.

Cool thing about a pendulum is it can be anything that swings if you wish. Some people I've seen take off their necklace and use it as a pendulum just fine. Just have a singular point and you can get to work anywhere with it. Please make sure to ward yourself from invading or malevolent spirits when you do this though.

Lots of pendulum or spirit boards exist and have different templates as well.

This is more of a call and response type of device to use. Especially when you feel a spirit present Still has a fair bit of control in your hands.

Ouija board

The infamous kids game works around the same way a pendulum does, except there is a planchette that slides over the board. This is a call and response based tool much like a pendulum. However, it is a little easier for the ghost to manipulate and control. Which is where all the stupid stories of ghosts completely taking over and fucking up shit takes place. Also, half of the biggest problems are just humans being humans which means victims of groupthink. So... stupidity. Someone freaked so you all freak...the energy gets bad and shit happens. Do your best to remain calm and just work through it.

Also no. ZOZO XOX 2O2O etc does not want your ass. Many spirits claim that shit to get a rise out of you anyway. Guys...no, I swear it does not happen. This is main character energy that none of us have...or want! Even if a demonic entity came in to fuck with you, there are plenty of other ways to do it. Be fucking for real.

Please remain kind and courteous to who you contact. Do not let your paranoia about this tool make you do stupid things. Always say goodbye when you are finished. Try and stay as calm as you can.

Never. Ever leave the planchette on the board unattended. Lest you get an unwanted guest or one that'll overstay their welcome.

Crystal Ball

Crystal Balls are a good way to detect energies. This is normally used in a private setting cause it desires a lot of concentration. Now, I'm admittedly not that knowledgeable in this because I don't use my crystal ball often.

Also, your crystal ball doesn't have to be clear. Mine is obsidian and I love her.

When having your question, focus on it and concentrate. Make sure it is open ended. I mean you can have yes or no, but it's gonna be a bitch to decipher a yes or no answer.

Close your eyes and let the answers come to you in the forms of images and colors and such, examine all you can as just let your intuition work.

Sounds simple but its a rather interesting art form to work on. Symbols and such can confuse you and it's heavy on your interpretation. I'm sure there's books and stuff out there for a general view of this symbol you see might mean this or that but...largely, this is a true test of how you read your intuition.

I'd do it more, if I wasn't closeted and lived with nosy closed-minded people.

C'est la vie.

One important thing though...don't leave your ball uncovered. Especially if it's clear. That's how you end up with burned shit. Those bitches are like mega magnifying glasses. And it happens faster than you think. Science is scary.

Mirror/Water Scrying

Mirror and water scrying is kind of the same as a crystal ball except it's a quicker and often less expensive way to work on your divination.

Some people have a specific mirror that they black out and scry that way. Others have a scrying bowl made for divination alone. It's just as good. You can use any bowl or mirror however. Just be sure to cleanse the area before you start and after you're done.

Some thank the water used for divination before putting it down the sink or in the earth. But that's more of an individual's choice/belief/faith than anything else.

Lots of occultism and spiritualism has a thing with mirrors being portals, openings, etc to the otherside and can bring some unwanted visitors.

And as someone who now sleeps with their mirror facing the wall now, I will say I believe a lot of what people say on that.

I want a goodnights sleep damnit.

Just be sure to cleanse your tools after use. Better safe than sorry.

ETC.

There's a lot of creative ways people can use these tools and magic. So don't think of magic as a recipe for how to be a witch or do witchcraft. That's half the fun of witchcraft.

Discovery.

Finding ways to do things, to hear, to see, to communicate. Yes there are certain tools that work better than others but, we as individual people also work in different ways.

There's a psychic out there who reads asparagus like bones. There's someone who will scry with a puddle on the ground they found. People have their own methods and ways to work their magic and we should learn from them. So if you have some non normal tactic or even something unsual, embrace it to the fullest.

I divine with music. If you ask me it's Apollo's influence. My spirits communicate with music.

When I meet people and get a good vibe on them a song comes to mind, and even if I forget your face, your voice, who you are, that song will remind me what I think of you. Songs pop up in my head when people associated with it are close.

I'm not going to say I'm the only one in the world who does this, cause that would be some bs. But its my tactic and its natural.

Do what is natural for you and not what other witches say you should do.

Even me, I beg you not to try and emulate or follow my advice down to a T if it doesn't work for you. Don't force it to work.

I am just one person, one voice spouting some advice. Take what you can from it, take what helps and work your own path. And then in turn do the same. I'm a path offering person not a director. But that's...just...me...

"But Sol, how do I speak to spirits?"

Talk.

Yeah, that simple. Talk.

This can be in a lot of forms. Some write and burn letters to ancestors, or past family members. Set up a placement for talking to them. Admittedly, a lot of spirit work and communication is experimental. We just warn you over some things because they've happened enough for us as a collective to go ah, a pattern.

I have urns at home so it's pretty easy to say hello in that case.

I am NOT telling you to go into a graveyard and just go wussap. No. Some spirits don't want your tomfuckery. Also if they're feeling really chatty all at once you might get overwhelmed and you will not have a good time. Read the dead room.

Open yourself up. WARD YOURSELF FIRST! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS. But yeah open yourself up. Learn how to open your pathways and close them first. That comes with meditating. Yes, this is why damn near all of us nag the shit out of y'all about meditating.

Just talk and listen. It won't happen immediately. It takes time and a careful ear. Remember signs to look for. You might spot them before you hear them. Small instances of shadows out the corner of your eye. A touch from nowhere, a shiver down your spine. Other things going off or being moved, etc. Slowly, someone or something will receive your message and try to respond in kind.

When you get these small responses, just keep calm and say hello or acknowledge what they've done.

"Oh, someone's here"

"Hello there"

"Are you still here?"

It'll be awkward (try to remember where you are, don't be a weirdo in public), but overtime you'll get better at it.

Conclusion!

Like any skill, spirit communication takes practice.

There are a vast plethora of ways to communicate with tools that I haven't mentioned as well, like automatic writing which is a pretty good beginner way to jump in.

Just have a pen/pencil on paper, write what comes to mind. Its a good way to practice hearing and catching signs as well.

And something I will never stop saying is you don't have to take this journey alone! Especially if you don't want to. Find someone experienced to start this journey with. Someone who calms you, who can support you. Support and asking for help is good. Last thing any of us want is for you to get hurt or scared out of doing this if this is something you really want to do. So call us, talk to us. Confide in more experienced people.

So many times on this site and other places, we are begging to form this beautiful network so we can help one another, give advice, hang out etc.

We are right here, just reach out for us. You'll get a hand back in kind.

#witchcraft #witchblr #witches of tumblr #spirit work #witch community #spirit witch #advice #witchcraft basics #witch tips #witchcraft tips #witchcraft for beginners #baby witches

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starberry-cupcake · 8 months ago

Text

I'm back! Thank you so much for your patience and your kind messages and comments ♥ you are so nice about my silly ramblings, I appreciate it a lot.

previously, on harrowsoup the ninth:

this happened

also I posted this and this as previews and this is the whole tag

currently, chapters 23-26:

"an atmosphere of greater unease had settled over the mithraeum"

aka the emperor's bolthole

btw, no kidding, harrow, I hadn't noticed the unease

so, harrow asks around about the herald situation

I have another deck with dragon heralds but I'm not gonna go on a card tangent this time (you're welcome)

everyone gives terrible and useless descriptions

emperor johnny boy says "Whenever they come I am bundled off to a sealed sanctum at the heart of the Mitrhaeum, so that their insanity can't touch me"

asshole coward awful man

harrobean is trying to ask why emperor asshat is so sure about her having to die and if there's no way she can make it

emperor johnny says yandere twin isn't that good at being a lyctor yet, even if she's surprising and that if he was still giving silly names, he'd name her "Saint of Awe"

harrow thinks "that had not quite suited Naberius"

get perpetually owned, chad

harrow also mentions not being able to remember things well

YOU THINK, HARROW?

"it was as though your brain had formed a scab over everything that had happened to you"

I don't think that scab is healing well

emperor johnny insists on the rapier

idk why they all insist on the rapier

gideon and camilla didn't like it and were the fucking best cavaliers ever

ARE, THEY ARE THE BEST CAVALIERS EVER

PRESENT TENSE

but anyway, at this point, it could very well be emperor johnbro has aesthetic demands

not like he'll explain anything

harrowbean sees not!dulcinea's door closed, which isn't usual

she second guesses a bit because she can't always trust what she sees and she remembers crux saying "you saw what you saw, Lady, and the only thing you control now is your reaction thereto"

I didn't like that old man, but that's pretty cool of him to say

harrow opens the door and sees this

alleged gideon the first aka ortus tells harrow to go away very calmly and in a way that is too nice for him, apparently

harrow is upset at the display in front of her salad and goes to complain to yandere twin

which is a terrible place to complain at because she's both into gossip and into kink

if you want someone to take this seriously, that's the last place to go to

"at least you know who's been moving her—so to speak"

this is what we get combining yandere twin and chad

I've used that gif twice for her already

I forgive her, though, because she says "god is a dickhead" and she's right

she also asks harrow to try to remember why emperor john god has given her the sword

and establishes that harrow previously did something to her jaw so that she couldn't tell her

that's going in the 3d model

CHAPTER 24

apparently people are being less mean to harrowbean because they're already mourning her

harrow says that alleged gideon the first aka ortus has the name ortus because "it was just a banal and uncomfortable coincidence, as though he'd carried the name of a dead childhood pet"

she believes that the name must have caught on in the ninth because anastasia must have like brought it in and named people after her pal

I think he's named gideon

and that our gideon is named after him because of direct relationship of some capacity, maybe to someone involved

I considered the mom, but it's uncertain

in any case, he has to die

so, harrow puts a lot of wards and safety things in her room

kind of like this

home alone styling it

but apparently alleged gideon the first aka ortus can bypass wards

much like the sleeper/waker

much like not!dulcinea

wards are basically pointless, I guess, at this point

so he goes into her bathroom when she's bathing because here in the emperor's bolthole, everyone's a disrespectful asshole

harrowbean says he's "a thanergy void" and "the ultimate nemesis of a bone adept"

he tries to kill her while she's looking like this

I want to give this child some cocoa and play a comfort movie for her, like "the bone collector"

she ended up using the teeth she lost in the fight as projectiles in his eyes and got him to leave

she ended up bloody, unmoving, wet, naked and collapsed on the ground to which yandere twin live reacted to and left

she could have given her a hand

or an arm

she decided alleged gideon had to die and ice cube barbie aka probably annabel lee agreed

when gideon was among us, there was not enough time for her to throw hands at people and here there's so many people she could be throwing hands at and she's not here to do so

camilla too, but camilla threw hands at martita in a way that was legendary enough

CHAPTER 25

harrow goes with the chisme to dr reverend professor emperor john

she says "I swear by the Locked Tomb"

to which he replies "I wouldn't swear by that in this instance"

which I sure hope doesn't mean anything nasty with my girl ice cube barbie annabel lee because I'm gonna kill this man

she might not be entirely alive (maybe she is, maybe she's just suspended or something) but she deserves better than this piece of work

then he says "well, that's unfortunate"

this man really knows how to handle a situation, huh

emperor john says that it's pretty unlikely that alleged gideon the first aka ortus was doing the dirty with not!dulcinea because he never showed interest before and is "legendarily unamorous"

that's another tshirt I need

I need that one and the witch one immediately

also, now we've got a problem

not just because my telenovela about how this man might or might not be related to our gideon got more convoluted

but also because if alleged gideon is aroace, I'm gonna have to stan

I don't make the rules over here, I have to stand by my people

I have a conflict of interest now

emperor john also says "you must think us all a depraved set of immortal criminals"

I mean yes, I do, but not because of sexy times with zombies

I'm not here to judge the sexytimes of necromancers and whatever they do in their spare time

I don't know the intricacies of consent with ghosts or whatever, I can't be imparting judgment

it's not that, emperor john

it's because you're unpleasant war criminals who are killing planets for fun

well, the war criminal part I don't have hard evidence on rn but the situation doesn't seem to be in the favor of these people

I feel like when this man talks about the overall situation I'm getting a speech from emperor palpatine

emperor reverend john asks harrow, who has been awake for 25 years, to go to sleep

yeah, sure, she should go to sleep and wait for this guy to come by and try to kill her for the millionth time

meanwhile, harrowbean keeps collecting hours without sleep like

she makes, at the request of emperor camp counselor john, soup for everyone

I don't remember if it was here or before and I forgot but, this is extremely important

they mentioned cassiopeia being the one who cooked before

cassiopeia the same one with the ceramics collection, if I'm remembering correctly

cassiopeia who was also from the sixth, I think

camilla's house

she's checking every single one of my boxes like a sniper

why isn't she here, we're stuck with the grumpy one and the senior chad

ANYWAY, at the mention of harrow cooking I thought, immediately, "that's an awesome way to kill this guy"

I was picturing more like a poison type situation, although I didn't know how that could be achieved

something like this

but I should have known poison was too subtle for harrowcita

like I established back when protozoa's head was found in her closet, subtle isn't harrow's style

so it was more like this

basically, harrow sectioned her tibia to put some in the soup and then she could necrobend it so that it attacked from the inside

if I'm getting it right

insane plan and I love it

emperor john shadyman says "ten thousand years since I've eaten human being, Harrow, and I didn't really want an encore."

were they snacking on people during the Resurrection???

did they kill people by making lunch?????

???????????????????????????????????????????

"you think we're bad because we have sexy times with ghoulies?? uwu" that's the least of my concerns johnny john man

harrow then breaks down and asks straight to his face WHY THE FUCK MUST SHE SUFFER LIKE THIS

she calls herself a nonsense

the only nonsense here is what this emperor man speaks

she tells him she hasn't slept in six days

for a sleep deprived plan, it was excellent tbh

emperor man over here asks yandere twin to take her to sleep

and then stays with mercygirl to whom he says it's insane that harrow could do what she did and how did mercygirl miss that

this is the situation, as I have previously established

augustine looks at harrow "as if he had seen the ghost of someone he did not particularly like"

alleged gideon the first aka ortus salutes her on her way out

he doesn't even have heartburn

CHAPTER 26

we're back on gideon-less canaan house because it's time for more people to die

in ways that make 0 sense at all for what we know so far

regina george twin is pushed to her death by mayonnaise uncle

sounds fake to me

like, come on

regina george twin can probably murder that feeble guy on sight

we saw her spar with gideon, she wanted to be the cav that chad ended up being

she might not be a necro but she can stand her ground in a physical fight

mayonnaise uncle without duracell bunny nephew is like a sweaty guy on an anime con complaining about girls ruining everything while buying a maid figurine

she can take him

anyway, he does that and he says to her "and somewhere out there, may all the blood of your blood suffer even a fraction of what I have suffered"

now, this is weird

is he talking about yandere twin?

he wants revenge because yandere twin obliterated him?

is yandere twin "out there"?

I'd say this might be limbo BUT CAMILLA ISN'T DEAD

harrow is going to him and he says "she has not remembered her end" "is this how it happens then?"

and then he yeeted himself into space

that's what I wanted to do with not!dulcinea all along

so, yeah, well, this canaan business is getting more complicated now that it's not just people being shot

people are throwing themselves and others into space

and the memories of harrow in the emperor's bolthole aren't completely lining up with these

and mayonnaise uncle seemed to have been more aware of things than others around here?? or maybe just more forthcoming??? in that cryptic otaku way of his

also, no camilla at all still

Things are heating up in the emperor's bolthole, hope to come back soon with another one and thanks for the patience, hope it was worth it.

#luly reacts to tlt #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #long post #gif cw

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xmissrogersx · 2 months ago

Text

Mine | Din Djarin

tags: a lot of fluff, and when i say a lot is A LOT. Grogu being adorable as always.

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila masterlist

-Being a fugitive princess had not started easy. "How can you say that, you have your freedom, isn't that what you wanted?". Of course, no one said you had to face every danger out there, right? With the risk of crossing who knows what a lunatic who could...

-Cyar'ika...

-What? He loves that I tell him that story, doesn't it, baby? —I asked looking at his big eyes, to which Grogu laughed stretching his little hands towards me.-Your father is only jealous of not being able to tell stories like I do.

Din laughed under his breath to refocus on the next jump, while trying to be cautious not to show where they were going.

He thanked the creator every damn morning when he saw her face when she woke up next to him. The way his body molded to his, as if he had always lacked a part of himself.

That part was Priya.

-Where are we going? —I saw how the Crest navigation course changed.

-It's a surprise —he replied while keeping the autopilot.

-Surprise? What kind of surprise? Because you know well that the word "surprise" envelops... —he walks towards me to get up and put me on his right shoulder. -Din, take me down now!

-It's time to rest, cyar'ika.

-Oh, please, just give me a hint, and as a reward maybe I'll use the handcuffs you have saved —I exclaimed soncarrona.

-Don't abuse, mesh'la —he said, placing me on our improvised bed.

I turn off the lights in the bedroom, proceeding to remove part of the armor.

-For Odin, you're killing me —I heard his laugh because of my comment.-You're depriving me of the show, Din Djarin, and that's unforgivable.

He lay down next to me, wrapping us both in the blanket he had bought at Naboo.

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From meeting the Mandalorian 1 year ago, I knew that the mystery was already part of it, but I must admit that this time it had exceeded my expectations.

-Now are you going to tell me where we are? —I asked, feeling the Crest ramp because of the blindfold that covered my eyes, while Din held my hand.

-Patience is not a virtue of yours, mesh'la.

We walked a few meters, until I felt it stop.Suddenly, the clarity flooded my eyes and I blinked repeatedly without believing what I saw before my eyes.

A large library stood before me. Volumes and books of different sizes and colors. I smiled with tears in my eyes.

A slight whistle paralyzed me, following an object placed on the ground.

-Din...

-Happy Birthday, cyar'ika —I heard his answer, with his voice without the modulator.-Please, turn around.

-You don't have to do it, you know I would never force you.

-I can't stand it anymore, I want to take your face in my hands and be able to see you without having the helmet in between. Please, Priya.

I turned slowly with my eyes closed, and approached him. I raised my hands towards his face, and felt how he kissed my palms, as I had already done countless times.

Take the courage I needed to see the man under the beskar.

Brown orbs, in combination with their beautiful brown hair with their waves.

He looked at me with doubt and fear, as if my response to his face was decisive.

I smiled again, letting the tears run down my cheeks. Joined our breaths, making him see that he never wanted to leave. But this time it felt different from the previous ones. No blanket covered my eyes and I could admire the beauty of his features.

-So, what do you think? —he asked as we parted.

For Odin, Din Djarin, you are beautiful —I replied nodding, while distributing small kisses on his face.-I love you, in this and in all universes, no matter how you look under that bucket.

-You and the child became the only thing that matters in my life. You are my family, and if I had to cross the galaxy for you I would never doubt it -we both turned around when we saw Grogu trying to reach the shelf.

I turned to see him again, and I could notice how his orbs acquired a glow that sent an electric wave down my back.

-Now that you've seen my face, what would happen next —he exclaimed as he knelt in front of me.-It's what I've been longing for since the day you got on the ship, Priya.

Small tears threatened to fall from my eyes, and without waiting for him to ask me, I threw myself into his arms, knocking us both to the floor, flooding the place with our laughter.

-Would you be my riduur, mesh'la?

-In this, and in all universes, I accept Din Djarin.

#pedro fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #mando x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din dijarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #mando x f!reader #mando fanfiction #the mandolarian

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sapphirerogers · 9 months ago

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What if we start a petition (aka protest/movement/pressure building) for Marvel to release the Stevebucky scene from CATWS?

We know that scene in the Quinjet had been filmed. Chris mentioned it. All we need to do is pressurise @marvelentertainment enough. They've got to listen at some point, if we keep insisting strongly enough and for long enough.

If released, it may not undo the atrocity that Endgame was, but it will provide much needed to these two characters and their dynamic after being reunited.

If it is still not released, we will still have made a statement - that we're still an active and thriving fandom and we can come together when needed for a good cause, to do the things one or two of us can't alone.

I know it looks hopeless, and I don't blame you for losing faith. But believe it or not, each of us Stevebuckies have the power to change that. All we need to do is come together, and stay together.

Think about how big we are as a fandom. All we need is unity and reach. I don't have the number of followers needed to get this post to enough people at once, but I can try regardless. Somebody has to start, and if it must be me, I'll do anything needed. It's going to be worth it.

I'll be making this post everyday, or at least as often as I can. I'll be tagging some of my Stucky shipper mutuals here, and I need everyone who sees this and agrees with me (whether you ship them romantically or just care enough about their friendship) to reblog this as many times as you can. Flood their social media.

This protest needs a special tag, so let's call it #ReleaseStuckyCWScene (don't forget this tag; we want those who just want fics or other posts to be able to filter this out if they don't want this)

Should you choose to join me, please make this post frequently and tag Marvel in every post. Do this on all platforms where you're active, regardless of how many people you know and how many followers you have. And please use tags where they're applicable.

Taking one day out of each year to jointly talk about Stucky is not enough. We need to be consistent. I need patience and perseverance from all of you.

I believe in every single one of you. Let's fucking do this. Starting right now.

@mainly-marvel @oneofstarkskids @jjmaybanksgun @slut-for-henry-cavill @stuckyfingers @amarriageoftrueminds @imposterogers @artwinx @capibuck @uninspired-platypuss

(reply here if you want to be on this taglist)

#stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #civil war #we were robbed but we can rob them back #right?#please?#ReleaseStuckyCWScene

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sindar-princeling · 10 months ago

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LOTR Newsletter update - this time final

Hi everyone!

Thank you very much for your patience as I figured out how to organise the rest of the newsletter this year. There will have to be changes, but I tried to make my solution as convenient for all of us as I could.

Long story short: we are still reading - with changes that I hope will be okay with you.

Long story long:

It seemed that TinyLetter was genuinely the last of its kind; after many hours of searching I have to say the platforms I found were either expensive, or the free plans were too small for the size of the newsletter, or they had many social features which made it impossible to keep the newsletter under the radar (believe me, I tried, and I failed).

To keep the newsletter going and keep it under the radar, I had to come to terms with the fact that without TinyLetter, it can't take the form of e-mails - so here's what I came up with.

I have set up a MEGA folder that's available to everyone who has this link. Inside it, there is the whole newsletter - September 15th to May 26th - as an .odt file, as a .pdf file, and most importantly as an .epub file, because I assume most of you are reading on your phones (if you don't already have an .epub reader, I use FBReader, and everything worked fine on my phone). At the beginning you'll find the whole table of contents with hyperlinks, so the navigation inside the document should be easy! Grab yourself a copy and keep reading from tomorrow on!

I am aware that not all of you will want to continue reading this way - and I'm sorry I couldn't continue the newsletter in the old way. I had tons of fun sending you all the e-mails, but TinyLetter closing forced me to try to find a different platform, and when I couldn't do that - a different way to continue. Ensuring everyone who wants to keep reading has means to do that was the priority here - I didn't want there to be any breaks. And with everyone having their own copy of the whole thing on their phone or computer I hope it isn't much less convenient than e-mails.

I hope you continue reading and talking about LOTR in the tag! I'm really going to miss sending e-mails, but I'm still here coordinating everything and talking about current entries and available if you want to contact me about anything.

BIG thank you to everyone who sent their support and advice over the past few days, it has been quite a frantic almost-week, and being able to talk and consult you here and on Discord helped a lot.

#lotr newsletter #it's mine my own my precious

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feyhunter78 · 4 months ago

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ms girl I'm begging you to be added to you tag list for the jon snow fic cause I can't keep maniacally scrolling every 2 days this is very very serious.

thank you.

I'll add you to the taglist, but I also thought I'd reward your patience with a little chapter delivery!

Chapter Seventeen - Within the war camp of the Starks and Tullys you find yourself facing your family in different ways. CH 18

You try not to laugh as you watch Margaery smooth down her skirts, Robb’s tunic laces strung back up incorrectly, hanging uneven as he addresses his men.

“Tyrion Lannister has responded quickly, as we expected, considering we have his children and grandchildren.” Robb says, letting your grandsire’s letter be passed around among his bannermen. “He will meet us in the fields outside Bitterbridge and asks that we list our demands so that he might decide if they are worth considering.”

“Does he truly believe he has any leverage? My entire family is here.” You whisper to Jon, feeling a pang of guilt for not immediately inquiring after the health of your family. You have been so preoccupied with Jon, with sticking to him in order to avoid the harsh stares, the whispers that circulated throughout the camp. True you may have Jon’s heart, and Robb liked you well enough but their men? They did not trust you; you remained a lion at the side of a wolf, and it will serve you well to remember that.

“You know your grandsire; he will not give in so easily.” Jon whispers back, his eyes on Robb.

Robb continues, his voice gaining in volume, in confidence. “We know our terms men, the throne for Stannis Baratheon, more bodies for the wall, the annulment of Queen Margaery’s marriage—”

“And enough Redwyne wine to last us through the winter.” Theon chimes in from his place behind Robb, a tongue-in-cheek smile on his face, his eyes bright with mirth.

“Aye, enough drink to warm us while it snows.” A Northman you do not recognize says.

“And perhaps some pretty Southron wives too.” Someone else calls, as laughter begins to roll through the crowd.

Margaery laughs, and it sounds like bells, clear and pure, all eyes shift to her. “While I cannot speak for every woman of the south… I can say that I have found myself quite content with my Northman, and I am sure many others will feel the same once they are rescued from their soft willed and greedy husbands.”

A cheer rises at her words, and you find yourself biting your tongue to keep from laughing once more. Only Margaery can make possible bride kidnapping sound like a heroic deed. Though you guess you cannot blame her, nor would you blame any women that left the South for the North. If you were married to one of those lazy, greedy lords who spent all day chasing after servant girls and squandering away his gold, you would rush into the arms of the nearest Northman as well.

Even though Robb had dismissed everyone hours ago, their cheers still ring faintly in your ears as you walk towards the constructed cells that held your aunt and uncle. They were less cells but cages, bars of iron stuck into the ground, a metal sheet hammered atop for a roof. You had not wanted your aunt and uncle put in these things. They were people, not animals, but you know your presence in the camp is still a precarious one. You are still a Lannister, still an enemy of the North, and your voice is not one they wish to hear.

Tommen and your father have been put in a tent, of course. Your father had helped organize this entire plan and no one truly thought Tommen would run, he was still a boy, but your aunt and uncle? Perhaps your aunt would not run if she were alone, but with your Uncle Jamie by her side? Anything was possible.

Your aunt and uncle look up when they hear your footsteps, both dirtied and tired, the smell of smoke clinging to them.

Your aunt’s eyes are wildfire, the heat directed at you, while your uncle’s eyes are dull swamp water, and downcast. “How could you do this to us?” She spits, rising to her feet when you approach.

“I did not, I had no idea, you must voice your complaints to my father.” You tell her, handing her and your uncle bowls of oatmeal.

Your uncle takes it quietly, giving you a nod of thanks, but your aunt slaps it from your hands, the mushy oats splattering across the ground and the hem of your gown. “Tell your snake of a father I will not be given gruel and locked up as if I were a common criminal. I am the Dowager Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“I will tell him, but I cannot promise much, he is sitting on Lord Robb’s war council at the moment, preparing for Grandsire’s arrival.” You say airily, trying not to look at your uncle, trying not to see the defeat and acceptance in his eyes.

“War council? That boy truly thinks he will defeat our father? You disappoint me, niece; you have squandered my lessons.” Your aunt says, her arms crossed over her chest, her head held high, even in a cage she still looks every inch a queen. “Pray to the Seven that your grandsire will be merciful and send you off to become a septa instead of taking your head.”

“Cersei…” Your uncle says quietly, leaning his head back against the bars of his cage.

“I will pray that King Stannis grants you mercy.” You tell her, collecting the bowl and spoon from the ground before turning on your heel, a mountain of guilt ever-growing in your heart.

As you walk back to the kitchen tent you spot Ser Arthur, he is polishing his sword, his eyes drifting in the direction of the cells every so often.

“My uncle spoke very highly of you.” You say once you get closer. You do not know what he had said to your uncle that day he claimed Jon in court, but it had struck him to his core. “He wished to be you, to live up to the standard you set.”

“I know.” Ser Arthur says softly, a frown etched into his weathered face, his hand stilling in its task. “I told him the truth, the whole of it, and in return he told me why he had done it, of the wildfire beneath the city. I have told Lord Robb; he will write to King Stannis and inform him of the danger.”

You are still holding your aunt’s rejected bowl, your grip on it tightening at his words. Your uncle had only once told you the story, you were young, and he was deep in his cups, the words spilling out like water. You wanted to tell everyone of his brave actions, to erase the title Kingslayer from his name, but he forbid you, said it did not matter now.

“He is better than me, surpassed the standard I set, he had always been rebellious, or we thought him rebellious. We did not see it was a conscious he possesses not a nasty streak of near insubordination.” Ser Arthur sighs.

“He hated it, standing guard while two kings raped their queens, it would have been three if Joffrey had lived, I do not know if he could have survived three.” You admit quietly, scanning your surroundings.

It is early morning, the sun still rising, the birds still waking, the breeze slightly cool but ever warming. There is dew on the grass, and in the quiet stillness you look at Ser Arthur. He is soon to be your good-father, you have grown up hearing tales of his greatness, but in this moment he is nothing but the man who failed your uncle. The man followed his oath to a mad prince so blindly he could not see the bodies left in his wake, and could not muster the courage to flee, to take Lady Lyanna somewhere safe. You know he is Jon’s father, that his acknowledgement of Jon, his affection for him has made your sworn sword happy beyond words, but you would trade Ser Arthur for your uncle in a heartbeat. Your Uncle Jaime is a good man, he saved millions. Defended you, protected you, even now as he sits in a cage, he has not lost his honor, has not spat cruel words at you for your part in this scheme.

“My uncle is a good man; he does not deserve to die.” You whisper, hoping the wind will take your words before anyone else hears them.

Ser Arthur stares at his sword, his eyes reflected in the metal. “I will ask the king to send him to The Wall, I cannot see Ser Jaime lose his head, not when he saved the whole of King’s Landing. I trained that boy, he was five and ten when he came to us, I watched him become a man with great honor, I know he has been tainted, manipulated by your aunt, but he is not beyond saving.” He says, beginning to polish his sword once more.

You nod, but do not let your hopes rise.

Your father and cousin sit playing cyvasse in your father’s tent, the entrance watched by two Stark guards, who give you a cautious look but allow you entry. Your father’s tent is large, not as large as Robb’s but more than enough for him and Tommen. Furs are laid out on two cots pushed in the far corner, a small table and a few chairs sit in the middle with a large chest set against one wall of the tent. A fire pit has been dug, a low flame within to heat the tent.

Tommen looks up at your approach, his eyes rimmed with red. “Cousin.”

“Cousin.” You echo, taking a seat between them.

“If I am to die, will you ensure Ser Pounce, and Lady Whiskers are looked after?” Tommen asks, his voice shaky, his eyes on the gameboard.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you grip the edge of the table, glancing at your father. “You will not die; you are a child.”

Tommen nods and wipes at his eyes with his sleeve. “That is what your father said too, but I wished to hear it from someone the Starks truly trust.”

Your father looks away, and you can spot tears forming in his eyes as he stands. “I must go and meet with Lord Robb; I will return for dinner.”

He makes a hasty exit, leaving you and Tommen at the table, the silence only broken by Tommen’s soft sniffles.

“You will not die; I will beg the king on my knees for your life if need be.” You tell him, taking his hands between yours. Besides your father, Tommen is all the family you have left, Myrcella is in Dorne, and your aunt and uncle will likely be killed. Your grandsire will surely be killed as well, if not imprisoned or sent to the Wall for the rest of his life.

“What will happen to me?” He asks.

You curse your father for his quick escape, it should be him who explains all this to Tommen, why is it left to you? Because Tommen trusts you, he finds you far more comforting than I. You can already hear your father’s explanation in your head.

Reaching out to brush away a few stray tears for his cheeks, you lay out your plan. “I will advocate for you to join Lord Stark in Winterfell as a ward, I do not expect it to be allowed, so my next suggestion will be for you to become a septon or a maester in the Citadel.”

“But they will hate me in Winterfell.”

“No, no, you will find happiness there, Bran and Rickon are near your age, and the Starks are good, honorable people, they understand you are not to blame.” You reassure him, squeezing his hands tightly.

“What about Margaery, what will happen to her?” Tommen sniffles.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Margaery will be marrying Lord Robb, to help secure peace.”

“They are a similar age; she will be happier with someone who likes what she does.” Tommen sounds almost relieved by the news, then his bottom lip begins to tremble, and his shoulders slump. “What if he hits her, like father or Joffrey? I saw father hit mother, I saw Joffrey hit you and Myrcella simply for speaking your thoughts aloud. Margaery has many thoughts, and she enjoys voicing them. What if Lord Robb does not like that?”

You squeeze his hands again and give him a soft smile, your heartbreaking at the thought of Tommen seeing what you, your aunt, and Myrcella had tried so hard to hide from him. “He will not, Lord Robb finds everything she says interesting, and if he does then I am sure one of his sisters will make him pay. They do not tolerate such things; you will see when you go to meet them.”

Tommen nods but does not relinquish your hand. “Will you come visit me in Winterfell?”

“Of course, Tommen, I will come see you in Winterfell then I will go see Uncle Jamie at the wall and then when I return, I will stop by and see you once more. Perhaps I will even be able to bring Myrcella.”

He smiles, it is slow to spread across his face, and it is watery, but it is still a smile. “I would like that.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @designatedramaiver

#meg's writing #jon snow x you #jon snow x reader #jon snow x y/n #lannister!reader #Jon Dayne #jon snow imagines #more Tommen feels bc his life is so sad to me

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