#i'm not here to stifle creativity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

021894s · 4 months ago

Text

THE GIRL FROM THE BAR ⭑ lhs

SYNOPSIS: After a tough workday, you visit a quiet bar to unwind, but are harassed by a persistent stranger. The charming bartender, Heeseung, steps in, defending you, sparking an unexpected conversation. As you connect, you feels your stress melt away, drawn to Heeseung's kindness and charm, setting the stage for a blossoming romance.

GENRE: romance, mutual pining

PAIRING: bartender!heeseung x f!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m & f receiving)

wc: 6.5k

It's an unusually quiet Wednesday night when you push open the door of the dimly lit bar. The cool air inside is a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the summer evening. You make your way to the bar and take a seat, the events of your rough day still weighing heavily on your mind.

As you settle onto the stool, a man approaches, a sleazy grin spreading across his face. "Hey, beautiful," he says, leaning in closer than you'd like.

You roll your eyes, not in the mood for this. "Not happening," you reply, hoping he'd take the hint and leave you alone.

But he doesn't. "C'mon, don't be like that," he persists, his persistence grating on your nerves.

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the tension. "Pretty sure no means no."

You look up to see a man standing behind the bar, his gaze fixed firmly on the man bothering you. The guy scoffs, looking the man up and down. "Oh, and what are you, her boyfriend?"

His expression remains calm, but there's a steely edge to his voice. "No, but I don't need to be to know how to respect women."

The man's bravado falters, and he mutters under his breath, "Whatever, you weren't that hot anyway," before slinking away.

He turns his attention to you, his features softening into a concerned expression. "Sorry about that. We get the average asshole in here every night."

You're momentarily stunned by his beauty, the way his dark hair frames his face, and the warmth in his eyes, his lean build that wasn’t remarkably bulky, but just enough to make your mind race at the thought of being wrapped in those arms. It takes you a second to find your voice. "N-no, it's okay. Thank you for that."

Heeseung smiles, a genuine and reassuring smile that makes your heart flutter. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

You manage a small smile in return, feeling the tension of your day begin to melt away. "A gin and tonic, please."

"Coming right up," he says, his hands moving deftly to prepare your drink. You watch him, fascinated by the ease with which he works, the smoothness of his movements.

When he places the drink in front of you, you take a grateful sip, savoring the way the cool liquid seems to calm your frayed nerves. Heeseung leans against the counter, his gaze steady on you. "Bad day?"

You let out a bitter laugh. "You could say that. Work was a nightmare. Everything that could go wrong did."

He nods sympathetically. "I know how that feels. Sometimes it seems like the universe just has it out for you."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your lips. "You? I can't imagine someone like you having a bad day."

He chuckles, a low, comforting sound. "Looks can be deceiving. I'm Heeseung, by the way."

"Y/N," you say, offering a small smile in return. "So, what brought you to bartending? Surely someone like you has other options."

He shrugs, a hint of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "I needed a job, and I like talking to people. Plus, it's a good way to pay the bills while I figure out what I really want to do."

You take another sip of your drink, feeling the alcohol begin to take the edge off your day. "And what do you really want to do?"

Heeseung's expression turns thoughtful. "I'm not entirely sure yet. Something creative, maybe. Music or art. I just know I don't want to be stuck in a nine-to-five grind forever."

You nod in understanding, your eyes sparkling with interest. "I get that. Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions, doing what I have to do to get by. It's nice to meet someone who dreams big."

"Yeah, but sometimes you need to take a step back and figure out what makes you happy," Heeseung says, his gaze intent on yours. "Life's too short to be miserable all the time. And you seem like someone who deserves to be happy."

You feel a warmth spread through you, not just from the drink but from the unexpected connection you feel with this charming stranger. You continue talking, sharing stories and laughter, and as the evening wears on, you find yourself feeling lighter, the burden of your day lifting with each passing moment.

Heeseung leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "You know, I don't usually see someone as intriguing as you walk through that door. It's a nice change of pace."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you can't help but smile. "Well, I'm glad I came in then”.

By the time you finish your drink, you realize you haven't felt this relaxed in a long time. "Thank you, Heeseung," you say sincerely. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

He smiles, a genuine, heartfelt expression. "Anytime, Y/N. Sometimes all it takes is a good conversation and a little company to turn things around."

You stand up, feeling a sense of clarity you hadn't had before. "I'll definitely be back."

"I'll be here," he says, his eyes lingering on yours. "Looking forward to it."

As you walk out of the bar, your spirits lifted and your mind clearer than it had been in a long time, you can't help but think about when you'll see Heeseung again.

Over the following weeks, you find yourself returning to the bar with increasing anticipation. Each visit seems to bring you closer to Heeseung, and your interactions grow more flirtatious and comfortable.

Heeseung greets you with a wide grin. “Look who decided to make my night again.”

“Couldn’t stay away,” you reply, sliding onto the stool. “I’ll have a gin and tonic , please.”

As he mixes your drink, he leans in a little closer than before. “You know, you’re quickly becoming my favorite customer.”

“Am I now?” you tease, meeting his gaze. “Does that come with any perks?”

“Maybe,” he says with a wink. “Depends on how many more times you show up.”

Conversation always came naturally in the time you found yourself spending with Heeseung. You’d find out something new about each other every time, like how he actually lived right above the bar. Perks of being close with the owner. It didn’t surprise you, his charms and genuinely good heart making it easy for anyone to love him.

You hadn't realized how much you’d come to rely on your nightly visits to the bar until your job started to get more demanding. The project you’d been assigned had become increasingly complex, with tight deadlines and a seemingly endless series of business trips. Each day seemed to blur into the next, and your usual escape—those comforting evenings at the bar—became a rare luxury.

One particular week, a major client needed hand-holding through a difficult negotiation, which meant back-to-back meetings and a whirlwind trip to a different city. You barely had time to catch your breath, let alone think about your next visit to the bar. The days were long, filled with endless calls and emails, and the nights were spent in sterile hotel rooms, far from the familiar warmth of Heeseung's presence.

As the days turned into a week, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret each evening. You missed the easy conversation with Heeseung, the way his smile seemed to make your worries melt away, and the genuine connection that had formed between you. You wondered if he noticed your absence, if he missed you even half as much as you missed him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you wrapped up the business trip and headed back home. Exhausted but relieved, you decided to head straight to the bar, your need for familiarity and comfort driving you forward.

As you walked in, the bar was just as you remembered it, but something felt different. The usual hum of conversation and clinking glasses seemed more subdued. You made your way to your usual seat, and there he was—Heeseung, looking up from the bar with a mix of surprise and relief in his eyes.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice warm and welcoming. "Long time no see. I was starting to think ran off with a secret boyfriend "

You smile, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "oh yeah, couldn’t wait any longer we just had to elope." you joke back “don’t worry though you can still be my lover”

He laughs, the bright smile you missed bringing a smile of your own to your lips. "tempting. you think he’d be ok with that?"

You take a deep breath, his flirty response catching you off guard despite knowing it was coming. "what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” you flash him a smile, “seriously tho, It's been... a lot. Business trips, endless meetings, demanding clients. I’ve barely had a moment to myself."

Heeseung leans on the counter, his eyes soft with sympathy. "Sounds like you could use a drink and some serious relaxation."

"You have no idea," you reply with a tired smile. "I'll have my usual, please."

As he mixes your drink, you let out a long sigh, finally allowing yourself to relax. When he sets the drink in front of you, he doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he stays close, his presence comforting.

"So, tell me more," he says, his tone gentle. "What’s been keeping you so busy?"

You take a sip of your drink, savoring the familiar taste. "Where do I even start? This project I’m on has been a nightmare. We had to fly out to meet with a client who needed constant reassurance. The whole team is exhausted, and I’ve been living out of a suitcase for the past week."

Heeseung listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours. "That sounds rough. I’m sorry you’ve had such a tough time."

"Thanks," you say, appreciating his sympathy. "I’ve missed this place. I’ve missed... you."

Heeseung’s smile is soft and genuine. "I’ve missed you too, Y/N. The place hasn’t been the same without you."

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m back now. And I plan to make up for all the missed nights."

Heeseung grins. "I’ll hold you to that. You know, I was worried about you. It's not like you to disappear without a word."

"I’m sorry," you say, feeling a pang of guilt. "I should have let you know what was going on."

Heeseung shakes his head. "No need to apologize. Just glad to have you back."

As the evening wears on, you finish your drink, feeling the comforting buzz of alcohol mixed with the profound exhaustion from your grueling week. Heeseung has gotten busier, a rush of customers filling the bar and demanding his attention. He glances at you frequently, concern flickering in his eyes whenever he catches sight of you.

You try to keep your eyes open, but the combination of exhaustion and the alcohol makes it increasingly difficult. You rest your head on your hand, your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.

From your spot at the bar, you watch Heeseung expertly handle the crowd, his movements fluid and confident. Every so often, he throws a reassuring smile in your direction, but the bustle of the bar pulls him away each time he tries to come over to you.

Finally, the exhaustion becomes too much. Your head droops, and you find yourself struggling to stay awake. Just as your eyes begin to close, you feel a gentle touch on your shoulder.

"Y/N," Heeseung's voice breaks through the fog of sleep. "You okay?"

You blink a few times, trying to focus on his concerned face. "Yeah, just... tired."

Heeseung's brow furrows as he takes in your weary state. "Why don’t you come upstairs and rest? You’re not driving home like this."

You hesitate, shaking your head slightly. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been up longer before. I don’t want to intrude.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften, his concern evident. “You’re not intruding, Y/N. I insist. You need rest, and I have a spare room. Please.”

"Come on," he says softly, guiding you to the door at the back of the bar and up the narrow staircase to his apartment.

Once inside, he leads you to the spare bedroom and helps you sit on the edge of the bed. "Stay here. I'll get you some water and something for the morning."

You nod, too tired to do much more than mumble a thank you. Heeseung disappears for a moment, returning with a glass of water, a couple of pills, and one of his soft t-shirts.

"Here," he says, handing you the shirt. "You’ll be more comfortable in this."

You change into the t-shirt, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. Heeseung returns with the water and pills, sitting beside you on the bed.

"Take these," he says gently, holding out the glass and pills. "They’ll help with the hangover."

You do as he instructs, feeling a bit more coherent now. "Thanks, Heeseung. For everything."

Heeseung smiles, his eyes soft with concern and something else you can’t quite identify. "Anytime, Y/N. You know I’m here for you."

You look around the room, taking in the minimalistic decor, the photos of Heeseung with his best friend Sunghoon, and pictures of his family. The personal touches make you feel closer to him, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

"You really have a nice place," you say softly, feeling a bit more grounded.

Heeseung chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thanks. I’m glad you think so."

As you settle into the bed, Heeseung stands, looking down at you with a mix of concern and affection. "Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything."

You nod, already feeling the pull of sleep. "Goodnight, Heeseung."

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replies, his voice gentle as he turns off the light and quietly leaves the room.

In the darkness, you let out a deep breath, the events of the past week finally catching up to you. But despite the exhaustion, a sense of peace settles over you. Knowing Heeseung is just a room away, that he cares for you enough to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, fills you with a warmth you hadn’t realized you were missing.

As you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel grateful for the connection you’ve found with Heeseung. And maybe, just maybe, there’s something more than friendship growing between you.

The next morning, you wake up to the soft light filtering through the blinds, your head surprisingly clear thanks to the water and pills Heeseung gave you last night. You stretch, feeling the comfort of his t-shirt against your skin, and remember where you are. The events of the previous evening come back in a rush, and you’re filled with a sense of gratitude and a hint of embarrassment.

You decide to freshen up, so you get out of bed and make your way to the restroom. Just as you reach for the doorknob, the door swings open, and you find yourself face-to-face with Heeseung, freshly showered, with only a white towel hanging low on his hips. His hair is damp, drops of water still clinging to his skin, and his well-defined torso is on full display.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re too stunned to speak, and Heeseung seems equally taken aback. His eyes widen slightly as he registers your presence, and then a slow, teasing smile spreads across his face.

"Good morning," he says, his voice a little huskier than usual. "Sleep well?"

You swallow, trying to maintain your composure despite the sudden heat rushing to your cheeks. "Y-yes, thank you. I was just... heading to the restroom."

He steps aside, still smiling. "It's all yours."

You nod, squeezing past him, trying not to brush against him too much. Once inside the restroom, you close the door and take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. After a moment, you gather yourself and freshen up quickly.

When you step out of the restroom, Heeseung is in the kitchen, now dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, his hair still slightly damp but styled. He’s making coffee, and the rich aroma fills the apartment.

"Feeling better?" he asks, glancing up at you with a warm smile.

You nod, walking over to join him. "Much better, thanks to you."

Heeseung pours you a cup of coffee and hands it to you. "Good. I’m glad. I didn’t want you to go through today feeling like a wreck."

You take the coffee, savoring the warmth. "You’re really kind, Heeseung. I don’t know how to thank you."

Heeseung leans against the counter, his expression thoughtful. "You don’t need to thank me, Y/N. I’m just glad I could help. You work so hard; you deserve to take care of yourself, too."

His words touch you deeply, and you find yourself smiling despite the lingering awkwardness of the morning. "Well, you’ve definitely made a fan out of me. I don’t know what I would have done without you last night."

Heeseung chuckles. "I think you would have managed, but I’m glad I was here. Besides, I like having you around."

You both fall into an easy silence, sipping your coffee. The atmosphere is comfortable, and you feel a sense of closeness that goes beyond the usual bar conversations. It's as if the bond between you has deepened overnight.

"So," Heeseung says after a moment, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do you have any plans for today, or are you just going to recover from the week?"

You laugh softly, feeling the tension of the past days finally lifting. "I think I’ll take it easy. Maybe catch up on some sleep, watch a movie, and just relax."

Heeseung nods approvingly. "Sounds like a good plan. If you need anything, feel free to hang out here as long as you like. Mi casa es su casa."

"Thank you," you reply, genuinely touched. "I might take you up on that."

Heeseung’s smile widens. "I hope you do."

As you both finish your coffee, the morning sun streaming in through the windows, you realize that this simple act of kindness has brought you and Heeseung even closer. The easy conversation, the shared laughter, and the mutual respect all make you feel incredibly lucky to have found someone like him. Friend or someone thing more.

Heeseung’s expression brightens, and he leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “How about we make today fun? I know you said you wanted to relax, but maybe we can do something together. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy—just something to take your mind off work.”

You feel a flutter of excitement at his suggestion. “That sounds great. What do you have in mind?”

Heeseung grins. “Well, there’s a little café down the street that makes the best pastries. We could start there and then see where the day takes us.”

You can’t help but smile back, the prospect of spending more time with Heeseung lifting your spirits. “I’d love that.”

As you get ready to head out, you glance around his apartment once more, the personal touches making you feel even closer to him. The photos, the simple decor, everything speaks of the man you’ve come to care about.

Heeseung grabs his keys and turns to you, his smile warm and inviting. “Ready?”

You nod, feeling a sense of anticipation. “Ready.”

The café Heeseung mentioned turns out to be a charming little spot with a cozy atmosphere and an enticing display of pastries. As you walk in, the smell of freshly baked goods and brewing coffee envelops you, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

Heeseung leads you to a table by the window, and you both take a seat. He smiles at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “What do you want to try first?”

You glance at the display, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the delicious options. “Everything looks so good. Maybe we should get a few different things and share?”

Heeseung nods enthusiastically. “Good idea. I’ll get us a selection. Be right back.”

As he heads to the counter, you watch him interact with the barista, his easy charm and warmth evident in every gesture. You can’t help but feel a surge of affection for him, grateful for his presence in your life.

Heeseung returns with a tray full of assorted pastries and two steaming cups of coffee. “Hope you’re hungry,” he says, setting the tray down with a grin.

You laugh softly. “I am. This all looks amazing.”

You both dig in, sharing bites and commenting on the flavors. The conversation flows naturally, the ease between you growing with each passing moment. It feels like the perfect way to unwind after the stress of your job, and you find yourself relaxing more and more.

After you’ve sampled nearly everything on the tray, Heeseung leans back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. “That was a good call. I’m stuffed.”

You nod in agreement, feeling content. “Me too. Thanks for bringing me here. It’s exactly what I needed.”

Heeseung’s eyes soften, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. “I’m glad. You deserve to have a break and enjoy yourself.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. “Thank you, Heeseung. For everything.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime, Y/N. You know I’m always here for you.”

As you both finish your coffee, the café begins to fill up with the lunchtime crowd. Heeseung glances around, then back at you with a playful glint in his eye. “How about we take a walk? There’s a park nearby that’s really nice.”

You smile, feeling excited at the prospect. “I’d love that.”

You leave the café and head to the park, the sun shining brightly and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. As you walk along the winding paths, Heeseung keeps the conversation light and playful, making you laugh with his witty remarks and stories.

At one point, you come across a small pond with a few benches nearby. Heeseung leads you to one of the benches, and you both sit down, enjoying the peaceful surroundings.

He turns to you, his expression thoughtful. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed spending this time with you, Y/N. It’s nice to see you relax and have fun.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’ve enjoyed it too, Heeseung. You make everything better.”

Heeseung’s eyes hold yours, a hint of something deeper flickering in their depths. “I’m glad to hear that. You mean a lot to me, Y/N.”

Your breath catches at the intensity of his gaze, and you feel a rush of emotion. “You mean a lot to me too, Heeseung.”

For a moment, the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of shared feelings and unspoken words. The connection between you feels stronger than ever, and you realize that what you have with Heeseung is something truly special.

Heeseung breaks the silence first, his voice soft. “I’m really glad you came into the bar that night. It feels like we’ve known each other forever.”

You nod, your heart full. “Me too. It was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

The following week, after a particularly easygoing day at work, you decide to stop by the bar for your regular visit. The familiar sight of the dimly lit interior and the hum of conversations usually bring you comfort, but tonight, something feels off.

As you walk in, your eyes immediately land on Heeseung behind the bar. Relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived. Standing in front of him is a blonde girl, effortlessly beautiful, with a radiant smile. She's leaning over the counter, clearly flirting with him.

You freeze for a moment, feeling a pang of something sharp and unwelcome in your chest. Jealousy. It's a bitter taste, one you’re not used to, but there it is, gnawing at you as you watch them. The blonde girl is everything you feel you’re not—gorgeous, confident, and completely at ease.

Heeseung laughs at something she says, and it’s a sound you’ve come to cherish. But hearing it now, directed at someone else, it feels like a punch to the gut. You glance down at your work attire, feeling frumpy and out of place compared to her chic outfit.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and walk towards the bar, determined to act like everything is normal. As you approach, Heeseung’s eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, his smile falters. He quickly recovers, but you can see the flicker of surprise and perhaps guilt in his eyes.

"Hey, Y/N!" Heeseung greets you with his usual warmth, but you can’t help but notice the way the blonde girl glances at you, her expression curious but dismissive.

"Hi, Heeseung," you reply, forcing a smile. You sit down a few seats away from the blonde, not wanting to intrude but unable to completely leave.

Heeseung shifts his attention to you, his gaze lingering as if trying to gauge your mood. "The usual?" he asks, already reaching for a glass.

"Yeah, thanks," you say, your voice coming out steadier than you feel.

The blonde girl pouts a little, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "I was just telling Heeseung about this new club that opened downtown," she says, trying to pull his focus back to her. "Maybe he could come check it out with me sometime."

You feel your heart sink further at her words, but you try to keep your face neutral. Heeseung, however, surprises you. He doesn’t immediately respond to her invitation. Instead, he finishes making your drink and slides it over to you, his hand brushing yours ever so slightly.

"Here you go, Y/N," he says, his voice soft. Then he turns to the blonde girl, his smile polite but distant. "I'll think about it, but I’m pretty busy these days."

The blonde girl looks disappointed but doesn’t push further. She lingers for a few more minutes, trying to engage him in conversation, but Heeseung’s attention keeps drifting back to you. Eventually, she gets the hint and leaves, though not without casting you one last curious glance.

As soon as she’s gone, Heeseung leans across the bar, closer to you. "You okay?" he asks, concern evident in his eyes.

You take a sip of your drink, the familiar taste grounding you a little. "Yeah, just a long day," you reply, managing a small smile.

Heeseung studies you for a moment, then nods. "Well, I’m here if you need to talk," he says, his voice gentle.

You nod, feeling a bit better knowing he cares. The jealousy still lingers, but seeing the way he prioritizes you over her, even subtly, helps ease some of the sting. For now, that's enough.

Over the next few minutes, the bar starts to fill up, and Heeseung gets busier, but he still finds moments to check on you, giving you reassuring smiles or quick touches on your hand whenever he passes by. It helps, but the image of the blonde girl still lingers in your mind, gnawing at your insecurities.

You watch Heeseung work, marveling at his ease and grace. He moves behind the bar with practiced efficiency, chatting with customers, mixing drinks, and flashing that charming smile. It’s clear why people are drawn to him.

“Another drink?” Heeseung asks, stopping in front of you.

“Sure,” you reply, handing him your empty glass.

As he makes your drink, you can’t help but blurt out, “She seemed nice.”

Heeseung glances at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Who? Amelia?”

“Yeah, her,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual.

“She’s a regular. Comes in every now and then,” he explains, sliding your drink over. “But I wouldn’t read too much into it. She flirts with everyone.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Everyone?”

“Everyone,” he confirms, his smirk widening. “It’s just her way.”

You nod, feeling slightly better but still uneasy. “Well, she’s really pretty.”

Heeseung leans closer, lowering his voice. “So are you, Y/N.”

You blink, caught off guard by his comment. “I—what?”

“I mean it,” he says, his eyes sincere. “You’re pretty, and you’re interesting. I enjoy our conversations a lot more than random flirtations.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, and you look away, flustered. “Thanks, Heeseung.”

“Anytime,” he replies softly.

Just then, a group of rowdy customers enters the bar, and Heeseung has to attend to them. You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. It feels good to hear that from him, to know he sees you differently.

As the evening progresses, the crowd in the bar begins to thin out. Heeseung wipes down the counter, glancing at you with a playful smile. He sets down his cloth and approaches you, the energy between you two crackling with unspoken words.

“You know, Y/N,” he says, leaning closer, “I’m due for a break. Mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Not at all,” you reply, your heart racing with anticipation.

Heeseung slips around the bar and takes a seat next to you. He stretches his legs out and leans back, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him while working. His scent infiltrates your nostrils. The cologne he was wearing wasn’t remarkably strong, but it mixed with the scent of fresh laundry and a little sweat. You thought the combination worked quite well. “So, how’s your night going so far?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“It’s better now that you’re here,” you say, your voice soft and genuine.

Heeseung laughs, a sound that sends warmth through you. “Glad to hear it,” he says. “It’s nice to get a break and actually talk to you without having to rush around.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you say, feeling a growing confidence. “It’s good to have some uninterrupted time with you.”

Heeseung’s eyes lock onto yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he admits. “It’s like the highlight of my Fridays.”

You smile, feeling a thrill at his words. “Really? I didn’t know I had such an effect on you.”

“You have no idea,” he says, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. “I find myself thinking about you more than I probably should.”

You laugh softly, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “I guess that makes two of us then.”

Heeseung shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours. “You know, Y/N,” he says, his voice husky, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

“What’s that?” you ask, your breath catching.

“Do you want anything to eat?” he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You feel a little disappointed at his question. You’re not quite sure what you expected but if your were being honest, you were hoping he’d finally ask you out. Moving past the disappointment, you feel a sudden surge of boldness, you lean in slightly, your lips curving into a mischievous smile. “You,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before a slow, delighted smile spreads across his face. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement and something deeper.

“It is,” you confirm, holding his gaze.

The playful banter between you intensifies, and Heeseung inches closer, his face now mere inches from yours. “you sure you can handle me baby?” he says softly, his breath mingling with yours.

For a moment, the world around you seems to disappear. Heeseung’s eyes are locked on yours, and you can feel the magnetic pull between you. He inches closer, his breath mingling with yours, and you realize that this moment could change everything.

“Wanna find out?” you ask, your heart soaring with anticipation.

Heeseung takes hold of your hand, leading you through a door at the back of the bar, up a narrow staircase that creaks under your feet. The air grows warmer, and the intimacy of the space makes your pulse race.

Heeseung unlocks the door and pushes it open, revealing a cozy, modest apartment. The soft glow of a lamp casts a warm light over the room, highlighting the simple, comfortable furnishings. It feels like a sanctuary, a place where the rest of the world fades away.

Heeseung turns to you, his expression serious but tender. “I want you to feel comfortable here,” he says. “If at any point you want to stop, just let me know.”

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “I trust you, Heeseung,” you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

He smiles, a mixture of relief and desire in his eyes. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms.

The embrace is electric, and you feel the tension between you dissolve as you melt into each other. Heeseung’s lips find yours in a kiss that is both gentle and passionate, a promise of everything you’ve both been yearning for.

He leads you further into the apartment, his hands never leaving yours. The world outside fades away as you step into the intimacy of his space, every touch and whisper drawing you closer together.

Heeseung guides you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. The feel of his body against yours is intoxicating, and you lose yourself in the sensation of his hands exploring your back, your sides, your face.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” Heeseung murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with a raw honesty that makes your heart ache.

“I know the feeling,” you reply, your fingers threading through his hair.

You leaned in and kissed him again. The kiss becoming hungrier, the both of you unfraid to show how needy you were for each other.

You could feel his growing length pressing against your clothed core, the both of you letting out a small moan when you ground your hips against him.

He reached down and pulled up your skirt, slipping his fingers inside your panties and finding you wet and ready for him “shit baby you’re so wet”. You gasped as he stroked your clit, his long, slender fingers applying just the right amount of pressure to get you squirming on top of him.

“shit, seung feels so good” his fingers slide down your folds, prodding at your whole. Without warning he slips one in, that singular finger reaching places you haven’t with your own. “You’re all I’ve wanted since I met you”, Heeseung tells you, his words making you clench around him , “m-me too”. He quickens his movements inserting a second, and then a third, the coil in your lower belly snapping at his “seung im cumming” you hardly manage to get out.

“let go for me baby, show me how good I make you feel” without another word, you’re coming undone.

Desperate for more, you reach to unbutton his pants pulling out his hard dick. It was long and thick. You didnt deem it possible for a penis to be considered pretty, but that’s the only word you could think of at the sight in from of you. You couldn't wait to feel him

“like what you see?” he asks. confidence in his voice, it was a stark contrast from how gentle he was towards you on your frequent visits to the bar. It made him all the more desireable. “mhm more than like”

You wrapped your lips around his mushroom tip and sucked him deep into your mouth. His length being enveloped bya warmth that had his eyes rolling to the back do his head. “shit baby”.

You clench around nothing, the newfound nickname one you never watched to stop hearing.

He groaned and grabbed your head, running his fingers through your hair, gripping it. You could feel him getting closer to cumming, but You didn't want him to just yet. You pull away and His eyes shoot open, looking at you with confusion “are you okay?” you smirk at him, climbing up from your spot and straddling his lap “mhm i’m more than okay”. You guided his dick to your entrance, teasing the tip on your slick. You slowly sank onto his cock, a low groan escaping his throat at the newfound feeling of your tight, wet heat.

“hee” you moaned, digging your nails into his shoulder at the feel of him stretching you so deliciously. “I got you pretty, s-shit you feel so good around me” He smashes his lips against yours, capturing you in a hungry kiss.

He pulls out slowly, whining at the loss, only to let out a loud moan as he slid back in, inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. He repeated the action several more times until you grew frustrated with the pace. “Hee, please go harder”. At your plea, he snaps his hips forward, faster and harder, making you cry out in pure pleasure.

He grabbed your hips and thrust up into you, harder and faster, “y/n… come on baby cum for me”. You could feel yerself getting closer to cumming. You leaned back and ground your hips against him, rubbing your clit against his pelvis.

“hee i’m so close”. He reached up and squeezed your tits, pinching your nipples “so close, I can feel it”. You moaned, your pussy clenching around his dick. Felling you come undone around his cock, he couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed your hips and pulled you down, cumming deep inside you. “f-fuck baby. so good”.

You pull yourself off his lap, collapsing next to him onto the couch, He joins you not a minute later, pulling you to him, your heard laying on his chest, hearing the quickened beats of his heart begin to settle down back into their normal rhythm. You lay there, panting and sweaty, for a few moments.

"I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you” He confessed. You couldn’t help but laugh at his honest revelation. “yeah well, at least i’m not the only one”, you tell him, a smile spreading across your face, as you look up at him.

He grinned down at you leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips. "so…" he started as he pulled away, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing… but I also don’t want it to be casual”.

Your heart skipped a beat the moment you heard his confession. You’d fallen for him the moment you met, and the time you spent together did nothing to but increase those feelings. “well it’s a good thing I feel the same way then”, You smile, your big brown eyes bright, filled with promise as you kissed him again. The promise that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

taglist: @chaeyunloveeee @llvrhee @yohanabanana @simplicitysbabe @woorcve @soapsters @hwhjsthetic @iisvlinaiii @jaehoonii @txnwvc @rbf-aceu @vhuteryh @shuawons @tanisha2060 @mheretoreadff @laurradoesloveu @bllueorchid @seungjiseyo @isa942572 @deobitifull @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @yjwluvs @penny44224 @yohanseyebrowmole @blockbusterhee @cha0thicpisces @soobnuuy @slut4hee @pprodsuga @ineedsomezzz

1K notes · View notes

tetzoro · 2 months ago

Text

☽◯☾ - SMOKIN' ACES

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : The ASL brothers know how to throw a good party and tonight was no different.

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. portgas d. ace x f!reader ; dubcon as they are high, descriptive weed use, shotgunning, surprise voyeur alert (someone might be listening...), unprotected sex, dry humping, use of pet names (baby, good girl), impact play if you squint — WC : 3.4k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Full Moon ! ꒱ — Kinktober Masterlist

The basement was a cozy little spot that only the members of the house and certain special guests could be privy to. During the notorious parties, it was a safe haven, a place of refuge- Somewhere to get some air, get away from the noise, and regroup with the people who meant most to you.

It was full of little touches from over the years. A series of disjointed chairs and faded couches all in a circle with a busted coffee table in the center that either had a bong or hookah on it, ready for community use.

Always playing chill music, full of wondrous paintings and vibrant murals that various friends have done — it was the clubhouse of all clubhouses and all run by the ASL boys themselves; Ace, Sabo, and Luffy.

The first member, the self-proclaimed founding member, is currently sitting next to you with a triumphant smile on his face, grinding up some weed. After the exhausting day at the beach, everyone has decided to go out to the bar instead of staying in for the night.

A part of you had wanted to go with them and maybe do a couple of shots and make out with someone for a little while. A night where your head was as fizzy as a champagne bottle and maybe you could get your mind off of a certain someone.

But then Ace had given you the look.

That look with those big brown puppy eyes of his that never failed to have you cater to his every whim — annoyingly so.

So you find yourself here, in the still smoke-filled air basement that was full of character from a group of the rowdy young adults you’ve come to know so well next to the man you’ve been pining over since the day you met him.

“I can't believe you dressed up like the dude from Magic Mike.” You flick his cowboy hat up, knocking it back and giving it a slightly disheveled look.

“Not just any dude, I'm dressed as Dallas.” Ace shakes his head, focused on rolling another joint in his favorite strawberry-printed rolling paper for the two of you to share. The one you had earlier burned out with the group and Ace had promised you another if you agreed to stay behind with him

“You just wanted an excuse to be shirtless.” Not that you were really complaining.

“First of all, I'm not shirtless.” Ace patted the unbuttoned vest that loosely hung over his taut frame. “Second of all, I did it for the hat that you so rudely hurt.”

“My apologies then.” The sarcasm drips from your tone and Ace casts you a sidelong glance, sticking his tongue out at you before using it to lick the joint.

“At least I was creative.” He says, his dark eyes trailing along your body. Even though he’s clearly appraising the outfit and not you, a chill runs down your spine. “Weren’t you a cat last year too?”

“Shut up, you know that Luffy ruined the angel wings I was going to wear.” Ace hands you the joint in surrender, motioning for you to go first as he fishes the lighter out from between the couch cushions.

You put it in your mouth, lips wrapping around the filter as the sparks fly. It illuminates the small space in front of you and casts a soft glow over Ace's freckled face.

Suddenly, he felt a little too close. You take in the way he carefully lights it for you, his tongue peeking out as he focuses on the task at hand. As soon as the flame catches the paper, his eyes flicker up to yours.

You inhale, begrudgingly taking in some of the smoke of the wrap before it cherries at the end, an influx of weed hitting your lungs harsher than you intended.

“Easy now.” Ace tries to stifle his laugh as you cough a little, your head still reeling from the close proximity. He takes the joint from your fingers, gently brushing his against yours before taking a hit himself.

Ever the show-off, the smoke barely leaves his lips before he begins to inhale it through his nose. He smirks at you as he does it, effortlessly inhaling the thick flume of smoke.

“You’re so lame for gatekeeping that trick by the way.” You huff at the man across from you, taking the joint back from him to continue your sesh.

“I gotta have something to impress you, right?” Ace leans back on the couch a little more, eyes growing hazy and red as he watches you. His tattooed arm dangles off the back of the couch while you try not to take what he says to heart. But he looks back at you, head tilting a little so he peeks at you from under his hat. “But I suppose I can teach you something else.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Taking another hit, you let the smoke rush through your lungs and let it saturate every bit while it screams in protest the longer you hold onto it. Ace shifts ahead, leaning in so he’s closer to you and spreading his legs so his thigh brushes against yours.

“You really wanna know?” His warm breath caresses your ear as he speaks, his nose barely nudging the lobe. The sudden seductive shift in his voice throws you off your axis and plummets you into his gravitational pull.

“Yes.” The approval slips out of your mouth with the rest of the smoke.

Ace moves his face so it's in front of yours, his eyes scanning your features as he takes a hit. You’re not even sure when he grabbed the joint but you don’t question it. not when his fingers cup your jaw so sweetly.

“What’re you—“ The question dies out as he shakes his head. Everything feels tingly but the way he’s cusping your face makes it ten times worse, setting your skin on fire as your face heats up.

Carefully, he tilts your head toward him before he leans in. Your breath hitches as his lips brush against yours, his fingers pulling on your jaw so your mouth opens a little more.

With a direct softness you’ve never gotten from him, he blows the smoke out from his mouth and into yours. The weed coats your taste buds before his tongue slips into your mouth to steal it all away. His eagerness rivals the hit in a silent contest of who can take your breath away more.

Ace's hand doesn’t move from your face and he uses it to his advantage to kiss you further. If you thought your mind was fuzzy before, it was absolute static now as your twirls swirl together.

He grins against your lips, humming approvingly as you begin to kiss him back. But it was over far too soon and it takes everything in you not to chase his fleeting lips.

“So?” He smirks and pulls away from you, taking another hit as you try to catch your breath.

“What the hell was that?” Your thigh was still pressing against his but you couldn’t find it in you to move. Part of you longed to push further, to lean into him and melt into his searing touch. But your mind was still trying to play catch up from what just happened.

“Shotgunning.” He blows the smoke out straight into the air and your heart pangs with a strange jealousy. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” You bite your lip. Maybe a little too much. You pause, tasting the words on your tongue before you utter them. “I wanna try it again.”

Ace sucks in his breath, the smoke plummeting to his lungs as he takes in your wish. Coughing slightly, he sits up straighter on the couch and tries to gather himself.

“Yeah?” The gravely rasp in his voice swirls with the underlying desire and draws you in further.

There’s no going back now.

“Yeah,” You nod slowly. Neither of you bat an eye as you slide into his lap, accidentally rolling your hips against his lap as you do. Ace lets out a choked groan of your name, shifting underneath you. “Ready?”

Galaxies bloom in his eyes as they light up, eagerly tilting his head up in anticipation. The joint sits on your lips before you take the hit, watching him under you as he looks up at you from beneath his dark lashes. Desire pools in your abdomen and before you can think about what you want, your lips meet once again.

It’s a blur between tongues as the smoke fizzles out. You’re not even sure if you did it right, but then again, it wasn’t really your main objective.

The joint disappears from your fingers and you can feel Ace shift to ash it out on the side table. Unburdened, his arms wrap around you and his hands splay across your back, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss.

Your lungs beg for reprieve but the taste of Ace’s sweet tongue is too addicting to let up. But he shows mercy and pulls away, suffering from the same affliction.

Everything felt fuzzy around the edges, your brain fully saturated in something syrupy sweet that had your hips involuntarily moving again as soon as your foreheads pressed together.

The faint aroma of sea salt still wove itself in the tangled curls of Ace’s hair, filling your senses despite all the smoke that currently clung to the thick air.

“Ace.” You gasp softly, the faint outline of his hardening cock coming to life right between your thighs.

“Yeah? You feel that?” To further his point, he pushes his hips up against your overheating core. “Feel what you do to me?”

“Yes.” With every slow grind of your hips, you can feel him growing harder beneath you. The friction was rolling over your body like a wave hitting the shore, but it was fleeting. “I want more.”

“Can you handle more?” The smirk that dangles off his face has you wanting to roll your eyes but you relent. The craving for him was too much, threatening to boil over and fully consume you.

“I can.” You nod, lips hovering over his. “I want to try.”

Ace closes the distance, unable to curb his own carnal urges that run rampant in his body. The way your lips mesh together, tasting like weed and strawberry-flavored chapstick becomes something he knows he’ll get addicted to.

Your fingers dance along his chest, teasing under the vest before landing on the buckle of his belt. All the while he reaches up your skirt, tugging on your panties and dragging them down your legs.

The rest is a blur of motion, but the messy way his lips move with yours is vivid. It’s almost jarring how much you can taste him, how much his grunts of approval seep into your skin and run through your veins

You pull back at an absolute loss for breath, panting against his mouth as his tongue pokes out to trace your parted lips. The bottom half of your clothes are gone and his are haphazardly halfway down his thigh.

Ace's hand grips the base of his cock as you hover over it, pumping it and squeezing his tip as it leaks with pearly drops of precum.

“You're gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?” His knuckles brush along your soaked slit, running along it back and forth, absolutely mesmerized as he waits for your answer.

“Yes, I'll be good.” The words are nothing more than a breath of air, your lungs squeezing in protest.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” His tip prods your entrance, both of you throbbing as the last thread of self-control burns like a stick of dynamite. The slow, sparkling crawl of anticipation before everything explodes, lighting each other aflame in a whirlwind of desire. “You turn into such a little slut when you’re high, don’t you?”

“Ace.” You whine, watching the slow spread of his signature boyish grin take up his face. Warm palms rest on your hips, fingers gripping into your skin as he soaks up the absolute need in your voice.

“What?” He chuckles lowly, his voice still raspy from the smoke. “All I'm saying is that — ohh shit…“

The rest of his sentence melts into a groan as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock.

“That’s it.” He groaned, his palms sliding to rest on your thighs to help guide you. It takes everything in him not to push you all the way down, letting you take your time as you adjust during your descent.

Everything stands still as he finally bottoms out, filling you up and stretching you out in ways no one has ever done before. The pressure is insurmountable yet it brings you a wave of pleasure that has your body singing for more.

“Holy fuck, you feel like heaven.” Ace practically moans at the way your silky walls clamp around him. His fingers move once again to grip your hips in a bruising hold, stilling himself from spilling into you immediately.

“Of course, you talk a lot during sex.” You let out a scoffed chuckle, clutching onto his shoulders as you spread your legs a little more and letting him sink in even deeper.

“Aw, complaining already?” He gives you a lazy grin, slowly grinding his hips up against you. The steady throb of his cock melts your brain more than the weed did, the residual high becoming overshadowed by the man under you. “Or let me guess, you just can’t take a compliment?”

“Shut up.” You huff, rocking your hips before raising yourself back up. His cock partially slides out of you and glistens with your essence, coating it completely. Ace's eyes zero in on it, drinking in the sight before you ease back down.

“Fuck.” Ace's head hangs off the back of the couch as he gazes at you through half-lidded eyes. The hat he was wearing falls behind him, completely forgotten. His palms glide along your sides, sliding them up and down before cupping your ass and trying to speed up your movements. “Please, you gotta move faster.”

“Do I?” The gravity of the situation sets in, albeit a little delayed — blame it on the weed. But he was completely at your mercy. The pleading look in his eyes speaks volumes despite the cocky words he so rapidly fires off. You lean down, lips brushing against his ear. “Let me guess, can’t handle it?”

Ace's attention snaps back to you, almost fully alert now. The fog from earlier clears from his head as the words he uttered earlier echo from your pretty little mouth. A new challenge fires off inside of him and he was never one to back down from a fight, no matter the position. With a wicked grin, he thrusts his hips heavenward.

“Oh, I can handle it alright.” He murmurs, rubbing the plushness of your ass before giving it a subtle smack. Your body jolts and your chests crash together, almost every part of you is touching him.

The ever-steady rhythm of your heart spins on its axis, thrown off by the rapid beating that sets in syncopation and you can’t find it in you to care. Not when everything you’ve ever wanted is finally clicking into place.

Your bodies move in a euphoric sync, the ebb and flow of the melody you two orchestrate fills the room in a symphony of bliss. You were drowning into Ace’s very essence and in return, he did the same.

“Shit, baby.” Ace groans at the almost lazy pace. Each delicious drag of his cock had your eyes rolling back to your head. Anytime he twitched inside of you was like another jolt of pleasure — knowing that he was getting just as much enjoyment out of this as you was driving you faster to your end. “I've wanted this for so long.”

“What?” You’re completely breathless now. The confession takes away the last shred of oxygen and rips it out of your lungs. The languid roll of your hips doesn't stop though; your mind, heart, and body all chasing what you want in different ways. “Really?”

“God, yeah.” Ace's fingers slid under your shirt as he grabbed your bra-covered chest. “We need to take this off.”

Impressively, his pace doesn’t falter as he rocks up into you while his hand glides to your back and unhooks your bra. It only takes a few seconds for your chest to become completely bare and his head to find its home in the valley of your breasts.

His tongue trails everywhere. Your body burns under it, relief only pooling in the spot between your thighs and wherever he decides to lick away the flames. It cools you off, the words he said earlier filtering back into your mind as the smoke clears.

“I've wanted this too.” You gasp, bouncing a little quicker to prove how much you’ve needed this — him. Ace groans, teeth grazing the swell of your breast before sucking your nipple into his mouth to muffle the noise. “You feel so good, Ace.”

The candy-sweet praise has his head popping back up from where his tongue was swirling around your pert bud and looks at you, eyes trailing over your blissed-out face and the hearts that swirled in your eyes.

“Come here.” Ace roughly grabs you by your ass, leaning further back into the couch as you tumble on him. He couldn’t hold back anymore, fucking up into you without abandon.

“A-Ace!” You gasp, trying to squirm away a little but the hold he had you in was too tight.

“Take it for me, baby. You said you would.” He moans. Both of your impending highs are heightened by the weed you inhaled only minutes ago. Pleasure rips through your body, sending it into tremors as your thighs shake. “Let go f’me.”

Your high washes over you immediately, body locking up as Ace continues to pound into you and chase his own release.

And it’s beautiful when he reaches it.

He comes with a choked moan of your name, his body tensing up and his fingers digging into your skin. His cock pulses before he completely empties himself into your greedy cunt with sporadic, shallow thrusts.

Both of you slump against each other, melting into the couch as your mind floats down from the clouds and into his warm embrace.

You pull back a little to admire his freckled face and can’t help but unleash the giggle that bubbles from your chest. It was contagious, as joy often is when you’re around him, and he can’t help but mirror you.

The two of you giggling in each other's arms under the shoddy string lights in the basement that has grown to mean so much to you — even more so now.

The distinct squeak of the floorboard by the basement door sounds off, snapping you both back into reality.

“I thought we were the only ones here.” You sit up, hastily reaching for your clothes and throwing them on. Ace lifts his hips and slides his back on before kissing you on the top of your head and getting up. “Ace–“

“Stay here.” He turns around the corner and out of sight as he starts to go up the stairs. After a few steps in, the door opens and you straighten up. “Oh, it’s you. You little fucking perv.”

The sound of Ace’s boisterous laughter sounds off as two pairs of legs start coming back down. Every nerve is set on fire, anxiety ripping into your chest at the thought of seeing the person who had been listening in on you and Ace fucking.

But the familiar sight of blonde hair snuffs all the worries away, the dastardly pair smiling at you with devious intent.

“I had to pick up so I couldn’t make it to the bar tonight,” Sabo said with a grin, holding up the bag of weed he must’ve scored. “Must be my lucky day.”

“Must be.” Ace scoffs, making his way back to you. He plops back down into his spot next to you, immediately mouthing at your neck before his voice curls around your ear. You don ’t break eye contact with Sabo as he stalks closer, placing the bag on the table before taking off his gloves. “What do you say, baby? Wanna let him smoke us up and show him exactly what happened down here?”

tags: @bontensh0e @autumnstuffs

#☆ 𓂃 Kinktober !#dividers by cafekitsune #◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#cw dubcon #cw weed #ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #ace smut #portgas ace smut #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece smut #op smut

510 notes · View notes

bruhstories · 9 days ago

Text

Muse II

p.1 && p.3

summary: a knock on your door, an envelope and a dress pairing: viktor x painter!reader && jayce x mel warnings: swearing, angst, descriptions of anxiety and depression, quite a lot of dialogue, veeeery slow burn, jayce being a good friend, canon divergent w/c: 3.7k

a/n: this part is a little more reader-centric, but i will fix that in the third (and potentially the last) part. liking and reblogging is encouraged and appreciated!

"May I leave now?" The bright lights of the infirmary forced Viktor to squeeze his eyes shut.

The doctor nodded, but the nurse gasped, then shook her head. She seemed to want to see him all the time, always finding a reason to stall, to buy time. Viktor never understood why, but then again, he never understood why you wanted him to be your model.

"I think it would be prudent to run a few more tests." The nurse suggested.

Her name was Sky, and she had been nothing but kind to him. But weren't all nurses supposed to be humane? To care for the sick? Unfortunately for her, the doctor was adamant on dismissing Viktor.

"I'm afraid not, Sky. Viktor's condition isn't improving, but it isn't advancing either. It's as though his condition simply stopped. You're free to go, but please come back if you notice any changes, positive or otherwise."

"Thank you, doctor." Viktor gripped the handle of his cane and left the infirmary, strolling down the streets of Piltover.

He had been thinking about you, about how the rune you inscribed in his portrait changed him, but his ego brought out the worst in him, and he refused to search for you, to apologise for misjudging you. Besides, you were probably busy with commissions anyway. You wouldn't make time for him after he stupidly, arrogantly tore down your pride.

You weren't busy.

It had been days since you left your apartment, weeks since you last touched a paintbrush, months since you saw Viktor. Not having a muse incapacitated you, turned off your creativity, destroyed your imagination. You stared at the blank canvas in front of you — empty, just like your mind and your heart.

Abandoning the attempt to paint, you tried to draw instead. Fiddling with the pencil in your hand, you took a look at your previous sketches, desperate to do something, anything. But nothing came out of you. Not a single line, or dot, or sliver of hope. The sudden knock on your door had you recoil and drop your pencil. Expecting your landlord, you swung open the door.

Jayce stared at you, at your dishevelled hair and the state of your clothes, before he peeked behind your shoulder to see the mess in your apartment. Papers tossed on the floor, clothes piled up on your bed, spoiled food on your table. He hadn't seen anyone so... pitiful.

"Can I help you?" Your monotonous voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"I just wanted to check on you. Y/N, what happened?"

"Ask your partner." Venom dripped down your tongue as you closed the door, only for Jayce to stop it with his foot.

"Please, let's just talk."

"Why?"

"That's what friends do!" His warm smile was supposed to offer you comfort, but it only offered you hate.

"We're not friends, Mr. Talis." You tried to close the door again, catching his fingers in the doorframe. The sudden shriek of pain made you violently open it, eyes wide at Jayce who was on the verge of tears. "I am so sorry, I didn't think you'd put your bloody fingers in the way!"

Ushering him inside your apartment, you kicked away the piles of clothes from the chair and sat him down. He winced, watching his fingers slowly turn purple and swollen.

"It's alright, it's nothing." His voice cracked like some prepubescent teenager, and you ran a handkerchief under cold water then gave it to him.

"I'm really sorry, Jayce."

"Aha! You used my name! Ow, shit."

You tried to stifle the chuckle that erupted from your throat, but to no avail. He managed to make you laugh, but the sweetness turned sour.

"Why are you really here?" You asked, avoiding his gaze.

"I told you, I wanted to check on you. And to ask you something."

There it was, the true reason.

"How did you do it?"

"Dunno what you're talking about." You shrugged.

"That portrait, it somehow stopped Viktor's affliction from advancing. It's not regressing by any means, but it's keeping him in a stable condition, and I can't explain why. No one can." His forehead creased, unable to find a scientific reason.

"Maybe he got lucky." You simply said.

"Don't be modest, he told me you put some kind of magical rune in it." Jayce scoffed.

"He spoke about me?" Was all you could think about.

"Yes, but you need to tell me how you did it."

You sighed. His scientific brain could never comprehend the intricacies of magic, the elegant enchantments, or the intuitive spellwork, but you tried your best.

"The Academy of Arts in Ionia trains artists to incorporate spells, runes and sigils into their work. Some can bring their paintings to life, others can use them to deal damage." You looked behind Jayce at the blank canvas. "I can heal. Sort of."

"That's fascinating!" He beamed at you like a child who just got a new toy. "So why didn't you fully heal Viktor?

"Ah, but what would life be if all our problems disappeared? We're all the product of our experiences, aren't we?" You mused. "I can't heal illnesses if people were born with them, I can merely hinder them, stop them from advancing, because even ailments serve a purpose. Would Viktor had become the scientist that he is without his condition?" You quirked a brow, and Jayce frowned, not in anger but in contemplation.

"So, you could heal my fingers, then, yes?" He nodded, but you sighed again. It was something you found yourself doing quite often.

"I haven't touched a pencil in weeks. I'm useless, as you can probably tell from the state of my apartment."

"Why? Because you don't have a muse?" Jayce asked, and you nodded. "That's bullshit."

"Excuse you?" Your words came out a lot more condescending than you wanted.

"I said it's bullshit. You're a damn artist, you find beauty where others don't. You don't need a muse for that." He scoffed.

"It's not that simple-"

"It is! Science and art are not that different, Y/N! They're both attempts to comprehend the world around us. They require research, analytical processes, resilience. Not a muse." Jayce picked up a sheet of paper and a piece of coal and slammed them on the table. "Draw my hand."

You stared at him, dumbfounded by the sheer willpower that this man had. No wonder he was an innovator. You could've kicked him out of your house, shut the door and never look back, but you didn't. Picking up the coal, you studied his hand first — the length of his fingers, width of his palm, the swirls of his fingerprints. Then, you let the coal glide down the paper, tracing lines, smudging them with your index finger and thumb. Your own fingers were sore from the lack of practice, but you sketched his hand nonetheless, and just as you did with Viktor's portrait, you scribbled a rune in the corner of the paper.

Showing Jayce the sketch, he could feel his numb fingers return to their normal size, the black and blue disappearing by the minute. He knew you could do it, you just needed a little push.

"See, that wasn't so hard." Jayce grinned, but you stared daggers at him. "Oh, before I go, Mel wanted you to have this." He reached into the inner pocket of his cream jacket and handed you an envelope.

"What's this?"

"An invitation. I hope to see you soon."

You locked the door after he was gone and studied the wax sigil on the envelope. Red and golden, with the head of a wolf embedded in it. It was too beautiful to tear it open, but curiosity got the better of you, and you used a knife to cut open the envelope, not wanting to ruin the sigil.

Just as Jayce said, it was an invitation to a fundraiser. All of Piltover's finest would be there, and you were asked to attend as a guest of honour, to be appointed the Master of Arts, the head of Piltover's Guild of Artists. Disbelief settled in your mind, despite rereading the same words, over and over again. Every councillor agreed to that, you could tell from their signatures. But you haven't painted in weeks, so how could you represent all the artists in the city? You were a hypocrite at best, a failure at worst.

And yet, you were chosen for that. Not your colleagues, not someone from the Academy — you. Did you need to prepare a speech? Bloody hell, you did. No one went up that stage without delivering one. But there was time, the fundraiser was only in a few weeks, right? Wrong. Your eyes scanned the words once more — it was three days away. Panic seeped into your veins. You had no dress, no shoes, no speech, no muse.

No, fuck the muse. Fuck Viktor.

You were still bitter about the last conversation you exchanged with him, but you couldn't throw away such an opportunity, such an honour, for some guy. A very handsome, very clever guy, but still a guy nonetheless. No, Jayce was right — you didn't need a muse. You didn't have one in Ionia, didn't have one when you taught yourself how to draw and paint. You were your own muse. And you needed a damn good dress to impress.

Forcing yourself to clean the mess in your apartment was easy. But showering and going out wasn't, not when the probability of bumping into Viktor was there. A slim chance, but not impossible, and you couldn’t afford to get distracted. You wrecked your brain trying to remember his schedule, because he never deviated from it. Thursday — he would have a doctor's appointment in the morning, then he would have lunch, and go to the lab. Or was it the other way around?

"Ugh!" You kicked the foot of your bed in anger and disgust. You were disgusted with yourself for even sparing him a single thought — the man who insulted you and your work.

So what if you bumped into him? He wasn't going to talk you, anyway, he made that quite clear when he didn't even say goodbye to you. Ungrateful fucking prick. No more. No more wallowing in self-pity, no more victimisation, no more emotion. How foolish of you to even think he'd see you as more than some dumb painter, that you were his equal in any way, shape or form. It was a facade, a mask, playing the innocent sick man when behind that mask was a god complex.

You found a dress, purple and golden. It reminded you of Viktor, but how else were you supposed to get over him if not by proudly wearing the colours of the enemy? Were you overreacting? Perhaps. Too dramatic? Definitely, but it helped process the pain attached to those stupid colours. Spending time to write a speech also helped take your mind off of him. It gave you a purpose, something you thought was lost.

There was one thing you didn't like about the dress — it was too modest. And while it wasn't a gathering of prudes, you wanted to find the perfect mix of elegance and vulgarity. Studying the dress that was hanging on an iron hook on the back of your bathroom door, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a slit up its side. You wanted to stop at knee's length, but something possessed you to cut higher, stopping well above the knee. Was it too much? Maybe, but you were about to become leader of an entire guild, and you needed to look your best. Besides, the thought of hooking up with someone at the fundraiser didn't sound so bad. You had needs after all, and you were going to satisfy them.

"There she is!" Jayce spotted you through the crowd of people, with Mel's arm looped around his.

You were glad that they were officially together. Too long they played pretend. You greeted them, deciding to be their third wheel since you didn't know that many people there. The life of an artist was quite lonely.

"I'm so glad you accepted my invitation." Councillor Medarda smiled. She seemed happier, and you wondered what it was like to have someone who made you laugh, who supported you and your work.

"It's an honour, Councillor. An unexpected one, I'll be honest." You quickly snatched a glass of champagne from a waiter. "But I've had something on my mind since I received your invitation. What exactly is the fundraiser about? The letter didn't mention anything."

"Ah, I must have forgotten to write that down." She scoffed. "The University of Piltover has decided to create a new department of arts and science combined."

"Oh, that is intriguing." You pondered the innovative idea. "How will that work?"

"Well, Jayce has been inspired by your talent. He believes that there are plenty of future students with the potential of incorporating both arts and science in their work." Mel said. "He'll explain more in the following days, but for now, enjoy the event."

"Thank you, Councillor." You nodded with a smile. "Are you alright, Jayce? You look impatient."

"Yeah, I'm just keeping an eye on the entrance. Viktor should be here soon." He nonchalantly said.

"Sorry? Viktor?" The smile disappeared from your lips as quickly as it appeared.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Jayce avoided looking into your eyes, fearing for his life. He could feel you seething at the mere mention of Viktor's name.

"No. No, you didn't fucking tell me." You whispered the obscene word, not wanting to draw any attention. "What else haven't you told me?"

"Well, um-" He fumbled for words, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

"Spit it out, Talis."

"You'll be working together."

"What? We'll be what?" You couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth. And it didn't help that you heard his familiar voice and thick accent creeping behind your back.

"Good evening, Jayce. Councillor." Viktor greeted them, but you couldn't turn around. You couldn't face him.

So much for being tough. Your heart was beating against your ribcage, desperately trying to crawl out of your chest and run away from him. The pit in your stomach made you sick — you could actually taste bile on your tongue, and the champagne glass slowly slipped from your fingers as your palms became clammy with sweat. Not even the exams in Ionia made you feel as panicked as he did. But you were a grown woman. You couldn't let him put you down like that.

"Viktor." You articulated his name without an ounce of anxiety in your voice, then turned around to look at him.

You were pleased to see he was just as shocked to see you there as you were to see him — even more shocked to see you dressed so differently than how he remembered. Good. The bastard needed a reminder that you weren't a coward, nor a prude. And it made you consider that he also didn't know you two would be working together. How convenient for you.

"Miss Painter." Venom dripped down his tongue. How dare he be affected by your presence? "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He didn't know. You thanked your stars for that. A shit-eating grin crept on your lips, and just as Jayce was about to open his mouth, you said it.

"Oh, you didn't know? We'll be working together. I'm absolutely thrilled!" You lied through your teeth and Jayce slowly turned his head to glare at you. A minute ago, you looked like you were about to have a heart attack, now you were thrilled to work with him?

"How utterly... terrific." Viktor forced a smile. "No, I didn't know. Jayce, a word?"

"No need, I'll leave you to it. Gentlemen, Councillor." You nodded and stepped away, blending with the crowd, eyes set on some poor man who was about to be your distraction for the night.

His name was Alfred, or Arthur. Something with an A. It didn't matter. He was good looking, with broad shoulders and much taller than you. But he talked. A lot. You politely nodded at everything he said, trying to keep up with the conversation, but anything he said fell on deaf ears. You weren't interested in him, not after seeing Viktor, who looked much better than last time, healthier. He went so far as to adjust his cane to look similar to the one in your portrait — the fucking hypocrite. And even the suit he was wearing was purple. You matched, and your stomach churned at that epiphany. What if people thought you were together?

You rolled your eyes when Arthur, or Alfred, spoke about how ridiculous the idea of combining science and arts was. The desire to pour your champagne in his lap was great, but your self-restraint was greater. Somehow. Paying him no mind, you dissociated, daydreaming of being in your atelier and working on a new painting, of buying new materials, new canvases. Yes, that was much better than listening to Alfred, or Arthur, yap about something his small brain couldn't comprehend.

Even amongst hundreds of people, Viktor only saw you, and the thousand-yard stare on your face. You were quite obviously bored, and there was an impulse, an instinct to go and save you from the dull conversation that you weren't even a part of. But he couldn't. Deep down, Viktor knew he might have overreacted when he last saw you, but you made it quite clear that you wanted nothing to do with him, and he respected that. It pained him, because he grew used to your presence in the lab, but what could he do?

He found it comforting that you wore the colours of his suit — of his portrait. It gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a minuscule possibility that you weren't upset with him anymore. But Viktor wasn't an idiot. He knew all too well that the wrath of a woman scorned wasn't something that passed so easily. And he felt the spite in your voice when you blatantly lied about being thrilled to work with him. Oh, right, he forgot about that when he got lost in your eyes, even from across the ballroom.

How were you going to work together when neither of you wanted that? Surely you could set aside any grudges, he thought. But could he? While the portrait did hinder his illness, Viktor still assumed that you weren't serious about him being your model. Your muse, even. How could someone like him be the object of your artistic desire? No, that was improbable. Impossible.

"And that's when I said what do you call a woman who has lost 95% of her intelligence? Divorced!" Arthur, or Alfred, slapped his knee, laughing at his own sexist joke, and that was enough for you to regret your decision of approaching him.

"Excuse me, I'm going for some fresh air." You walked away from him as fast as you could.

Stepping out on the balcony, you shivered when the cool air kissed your skin. A coat would've been smarter than a slit in your dress, but freezing to death was better than hearing one more fucking joke about women. You just hoped Alfred, or Arthur, or whatever the fuck his name was, wasn't going to come looking for you. Leaning on the handrail, you sighed. What were you going to do? How were you going to work with Viktor for an indefinite amount of time? There was so much uncertainty about the future, and it scared you. The responsibilities of leading a guild scared you. The changes in your routine scared you. The idea of working with someone who hated you scared you.

The speech! You forgot about the blasted speech, and you ran back inside at the right time. Councillor Shoola invited you on the stage just as you entered the ballroom, and with a fake smile and complaisant nods, you walked up the few steps, blinded by the lights directed on you. Shoola shook your hand, and awarded you with a silver pin — a symbol of your new status as Guild Leader. The amount of people staring at you was overwhelming, but you took a deep breath in and adjusted microphone on the stand. When you looked down at your hands, you were surprised to find them empty. Where were the cards you had prepared? Where was your speech?

Then you remembered the balcony. You had forgotten the cards outside. Shit. Fuck. No matter, you could improvise. Even if your throat was dry, and your legs were numb, you could improvise. You did that before, plenty of times. But the hundreds of eyes that stared into your soul made it impossible to think, to breathe, to exist.

Um, good evening, everyone." You started, eyes narrowed down on Mel, who nodded in encouragement. Licking your chapped lips, you continued. "It brings me great honour to stand here in front of you..." Cringing at the crack in your voice, you found Jayce, who beamed at you, like he always did. That gave you a bit more hope. "...as the new Master of Arts."

You couldn't do this.

They weren't looking at you, they were looking inside of you. They could see every fibre of your body, every imperfection, every weakness. You tried closing your eyes and pretending they weren't there, but when you opened them, it was worse. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tried to steady your breathing, to stop yourself from hyperventilating.

A pair of soft amber eyes found yours, and you couldn’t believe how calming they were. Even after the fiasco that was your meeting with Viktor, you still found inspiration in him, and that offended you.

"We are here to celebrate a marriage." You spoke with newfound confidence stemming from sheer anger. "A marriage between science and art. A sacred union that some find ridiculous, others impossible. I find it a splendid symbiosis of reason and emotion. Too long art and science have mutually excluded each other, and while they both individually progressed immeasurably, their union has the potential to break boundaries, to make new discoveries, to bring people together. I will proudly represent the Guild of Artists in this new and fascinating adventure. Thank you, Councillors, for the distinction bestowed upon me. Thank you to Professor Heimerdinger for allowing this journey to happen. And thank you to everyone who believes in this pursuit of knowledge."

#viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #fem!reader #afab reader

260 notes · View notes

littlejuicebox · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I'm not sure if you take requests so if you don't, please ignore this and I hope you had a wonderful Christmas.

I just read your Astarion X Tav fanfic where Astarion proposes. It is said that the ring he got glows whenever Astarion thinks of Tav. I was just wondering if you could write a slice of life about the ring glowing at the most random times. Maybe during a stealth mission where Tav has to stay hidden or when he is smiling in his sleep and the ring glows. I just thought it would be cute and fun to write about. You can get creative with it.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, whether you end up doing this request or not. I hope you had an amazing Christmas and I hope you will have an amazing New Year's!

Hi Anon! I don’t think this is quite what you were asking for but… this is what came out! 🤷‍♀️ The smut gods blessed me and I cannot deny their gifts. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Smut below the cut.

If you haven’t read my other work and would like context, Anon is referencing a two part mini story I wrote. Click here for part 1, and click here for part 2.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only please, smut, masturbation, sex pollen, swearing/cursing, game spoilers

Word Count: 1.5K

-----

“I think we’re just… a bit out of practice, darling. It has been nearly a year since we were down here last, you know.” Astarion whispers, crouched next to you behind a Funguswood tree. He’s wiping bits of dirt, twigs, and mushroom pollen off himself with a handkerchief.

“Admit it, Astarion. You just weren’t fast enough.” You respond with a small, teasing poke of your tongue as you rearrange your weaponry and count your arrows.

The pale elf finishes wiping off the debris, and you return your attentions to the mission. You’d been contracted to scout out the vampire stronghold in the Underdark and report your findings back to Wyll and the Flaming Fists. Rumor was that the vampire hoard had wreaked absolute havoc on the Underdark; the city feared the creatures would soon return to the surface if they could not find sustenance here.

“Would you have preferred I let that wild Rothé ram you into those mushrooms in my stead?!” Astarion hisses in return while rubbing his hand over his arm, which now felt unbelievably tingly and was starting to radiate significant warmth, “Hells, what mushrooms were those, anyway?!”

You stifle a chuckle, knowing your fiancé is already past his limits of patience. You two need to get to the scouting point, set up camp, and hunker down for a few days… all while avoiding detection from the vampires or any other nefarious creatures in the Underdark. Best to do it without an ornery Astarion by your side.

“I don’t know what mushrooms those were. I’ve never seen them before.” You admit with a small shrug, “Come on my love, not much further now and then we can get you properly cleaned up.”

Astarion follows behind you in silence, apart from the occasional cursing and swiping at his skin. Gods, the heat had spread up his entire arm now. The scratching seemed to make it worse, but by the hells, he couldn’t stop no matter how much he wanted to. The two of you finally got to the cragged rock that led to a small cave where you would make camp, and he never felt more relieved in his life. He couldn’t wait to clean himself properly and be done with this burning sensation.

You glance at him briefly and then begin climbing the rock. Astarion remains below to keep you covered in case anything decides to attack while you’re left defenseless. He looks up to watch your progress and cannot help but to notice the overwhelmingly attractive curve of your bottom. It was always attractive, of course, but something about it in this moment was entirely… irresistible. Had you been working out recently in preparation for the wedding?

You’re halfway through climbing the rock when your engagement ring bursts into a spray of light. It often glows significantly at the surface, but in the blackness of the Underdark, you’re practically a beacon. Your stomach drops. Gods, how had you forgotten to take it off?

“Astarion!” You hiss in a panicked whisper, “Cut it out! Every being in all of the Underdark will know our position.”

Astarion had realized the issue as soon as the light had flared, of course. He was trying desperately to avoid thinking of you and all the delicious things he wanted to do when you two made camp, but gods he couldn’t control it. What in the hells was wrong with him? He wanted to stop, to ensure your safety, but your plump, perfect ass was practically calling his name, begging for his attention, and he wanted nothing more than to bend you over and—

He shakes his head, trying to rattle the lewd fantasies from his psyche, “I’m trying, my love! I don’t know what’s come over me I just—“

Hags. Hideous shoes. Ghouls. Manual labor. Gale.

The pale elf tries to think of all the most grotesque, unsexy things he can and push you entirely from his mind. You continue to climb, hoping to quickly reach the top and take off your ring as soon as possible. The ring is still glowing like a single star in the blackest night.

Ogres. The smell of Araj’s blood. Rats. Gale.

Gods, it was useless.

Finally, you reach the top. You rip the ring off your finger and shove it in your pack as soon as your limbs land on the surface of the cave. Astarion quickly scales the rock behind you, and when he reaches the top, you’re positively glaring at him.

“Darling, I’m sorry! I really tried. It’s just— gods damn these mushrooms!” The vampire is ripping off his shirt and scratching at his skin as the two of you walk into the little cave. Before long he’s down to his knickers and cursing as he rubs desperately at his flesh.

You’re trying to ignore your fiancé and quickly pitch the tent so you can handle whatever the hells is going on with him. A sideways glance to your pack reveals that the ring is still glowing quite intensely… perhaps more than it ever has before. Was that even possible? At any rate, you can’t get closer to the stronghold with it glowing like that.

“Astarion, I don’t know what—“ You spin around, and you’re surprised to see the elf fully nude on his blanket, doing perhaps the most provocative thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Astarion is beaded in sweat by now, and his hands are wandering over himself, chasing the burning tingle as it travels through his body. Gods, the feeling was becoming absolutely unbearable. He kept seeing visions of you and him in the throes of passion in his mind.

He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Did he want to stop? He couldn’t decide. All he knew was the intense tingling and burning coursing through his veins and the wonderful fantasies filling his brain. He needed release from this torture; his limbs were on fire and the sensation was spreading to his groin.

The elf knows by the throbbing pulse in his cock that his erection is at full capacity, and he feels the dribbles of precum slowly sliding from the head, down the shaft. Astarion is, admittedly embarrassed knowing you are mere feet away and witnessing such an erratic show, but he grabs his own cock regardless— gods, it felt like being possessed. He needed release and he needed it now.

As his fingers wrap around his shaft, a burst of relief travels through his body. The tingling ceases for a moment. But then, it flares again and he’s consumed by the burning feeling and vulgar thoughts of the two of you once more. He pumps his hand a few times, bucking into the sensation, and once again the torturous tingle halts.

What in the hells?

Astarion is now rolling his hips towards his own hand, groaning in pure ecstasy at the relief from the burn as well as the delicious sensation of his hands stroking his uncharacteristically sensitive member. His eyes are clasped closed, and his other hand is still wandering over his torso, chasing that burning itch.

Through panting, shaking breaths he murmurs, “Darling, is it— oh gods, is possible that those— fuck — mushrooms contained sex pollen? I’ve never— mmh, fuck.”

You’d been so enraptured by the vision of your lover touching himself in such an uninhibited display of lust that you almost didn’t hear what Astarion asked. The slickness of your arousal was starting to become apparent as you instinctively squeezed your thighs together.

“I’m… I’m not sure, my love. I’ve read of such things but I’ve never come across it… until, perhaps, now I suppose.”

Astarion isn’t really listening. Instead, he’s bucking wildly into his own hand, chasing his own release. He falls apart in front of you, with his limbs tensed and mouth agape in pure, unadulterated pleasure, clasping tightly onto his own length. The gasping, strangled moan of relief that escapes him as he reaches his climax and shoots sticky streams of hot white seed onto his abdomen ignites a fire in your groin. He’s shuddering with the rippling aftershocks of his orgasm and you feel yourself dripping with arousal as you rub your thighs together once more. This display was entirely feral.

For a few moments the vampire is breathing contentedly, eyes still shut. He’s still holding his cock, which continues to twitch insistently despite its significant spend. Your lover brings his unoccupied hand to his hair and rakes it through his disheveled, sweaty curls.

You flick your gaze to your pack and notice that it’s no longer emitting that ethereal glow. But then Astarion groans in dismay and you see light flare from your bag again. When your attention returns back to your fiancé, he’s already grasping wantonly at a second rapidly growing erection.

“Darling, I can smell you,” He hisses desperately, now slathering his own milky juices around the swollen, reddened tip of his thick cock. The veins in his arm and on his shaft are pulsing as he begins to stroke himself again, “Don’t be coy just— come over here and help me with this. Please.”

And by the gods, he asked so nicely, how could you say no?

#astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #bg3 fanfiction #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #bg3 smut #prompt request #prompt response #astarion prompts #smut

440 notes · View notes

abiiors · 6 months ago

Text

a midsummer night's dream - matty x reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🔆:✧˚.🍉⋆𖧧🐚

a/n: i will be so honest, there is no plot. the plot is matty and bug being in love for 4.5k words. also alex turner cameo hehehe cw: i'm warning all of you that there's a lot of fade to black smut in this because writing smut is my mortal enemy wc: 4.5k

matty wakes up to a scream on one fine day mid june.

he scrambles awake, drenched in sweat because it’s already so warm in london, and because the scream is startling. he’s about to run to make sure she’s okay when he hears another one—a squeal this time. a high-pitched, excited sound.

“bug?” he calls out, his voice scratchy still, “what’s happening?”

footsteps thud on the floor. a moment later the door swings open and she comes into view, laptop balanced precariously in one hand and her eyes as round as saucers. matty sits up on the bed. the covers fall around his waist, exposing his entire torso right down to his happy trail.

“what—”

“i got it!” she hoists the laptop high up in the air. “that summer gig with arctic monkeys! i got it! i got it, matty, me!”

matty’s sure his eyes widen an equal amount then, and he jumps off the bed. there he is, standing naked as the day he was born in the middle of their room. the kisses on his chest from the night before have already darkened, leaving a neat little trail from his sternum to just below his belly button. and yet, matty cares about none of it.

“you got it! fuck, bug—”

“i got it!” she squeals, eyes brimming with tears now that it’s sinking in, and almost chucks the laptop on the bed. none of them care that he’s naked and she’s not. she makes a run at him, jumping into his open arms and wrapping her bare legs around his middle. she even presses a kiss square on his lips, too excited to deepen it. he just twirls them around until they both end up in a heap on the bed.

“shit!”

“shit!” he laughs. “you’d be in europe all summer, one country after the other. surrounded by hot rockstars—”

“matty!” she chastises even though he can tell she’s busy trying to stifle her shit-eating grin. “i’m going to work. take photos!”

“of hot rockstars,” he bumps his shoulder into hers.

she turns and eyes him properly, from his messy curls to his naked chest and down. he doesn’t shy away from her though, if anything he feels a little smug.

“i already take photos of hot rockstars,” she giggles, tracing a finger over the tattoo in the centre of his chest. “sexy photos too.”

“oh is that right?” he takes a hold of her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. her day old perfume surrounds him. his too, he realises, is in the mix, clinging to her skin like it’s meant to. “you won’t be here all summer…” he kisses her shoulder and pulls her leg over his waist.

“i’ll send you postcards,” she giggles, “like we’re in the 90s or something.”

“sexy…postcards?”

she pinches the skin on his stomach lightly making him hiss. “pervert.”

“you’re a photographer, bug,” matty’s mouth moves from her shoulder to her chest, right where the fabric of her cami ends, not exactly where he wants to be. “i’m sure, you can get…creative.”

she quirks an eyebrow. “and what will i get in return, hmm? i’ll be ‘surrounded by hot rockstars’, don’t you forget.”

“oh, all of this isn’t enough?” matty points at his naked body, earning a flirty giggle from her.

he already feels hot all over again, simmering right beneath his skin, and from the looks of it, she feels it too. gently, she pushes him on his back, climbing on top of him until she’d on his stomach, her ass touching his dick. matty pulls the strings of her shorts and helps her out of them, out of her underwear too.

“gorgeous,” he murmurs once she chucks her cami somewhere in the corner, entirely naked and on top of him, grinding on his stomach until she’s practically dripping onto him. matty loves it when she uses him like that, when she gets lost chasing her own pleasure and forgets the world around her.

matty loves looking at her then—now—when her lips are parted and eyes rolled to the back of her head, when her jaw is slack with pleasure and she moves her hips in a hypnotising rhythm. getting herself off on his stomach.

his hand snakes up her naked thigh till he's grabbing her ass. praise after praise tumbles out of his mouth and each one has her moving faster, rocking hips. his head spins from the blood running so fast through his veins. it's electric, to see her like that, to feel her like that. he’s dying to feel her around him too, but right now matty is just content to lie back and watch.

when she finally finds her release and slumps forward on his chest, breathing hard, matty presses a kiss on her crown.

“had your fun, didn’t you?”

she hmms, giggling a little. “your turn?”

and of course, he doesn’t need to be asked twice.

the week before she’s set to leave, she makes him sit in front of the dresser, bleach and blue dye held up in her gloved hands. matty’s doing it because she won’t. because she wants to ‘look professional’. and so he agrees to dyeing his hair blue.

she’s more than happy to do it too, pressing kisses on his bare shoulder and neck every two seconds. matty dips a finger in the dye and flicks her nose, painting it blue.

“oh i will kill you,” she screeches, giggling away from him when he tries to get more dye on her, on her clothes and skin, and tries to kiss her while he reeks of bleach.

and even though they're happy, somewhere in the back of his mind he already misses her, even when she’s right here in his arms.

“i love you…” he murmurs and places a soft kiss on her lips, she indulges for a few seconds before frowning.

“why did you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like it’s a sad thing.”

she can be quite perceptive when she wants to be. but matty simply shakes his head and hooks a hand under her knees. she laughs so loud when he throws her over his shoulder that it echoes around the house. matty hopes the house traps it, her laughs and her giggles and moans, he’s going to miss hearing it.

“matty?” she nips his earlobe.

“hmm?”

“i love you too. more than you’ll ever know.”

he doesn’t bother correcting her, or telling her that he knows. he knows because he feels it in all of her touches and her kisses and her smiles. and he knows because no matter how upset he is about spending two months apart, he knows she’s coming home to him at the end of it.

he only sets her down once they get to the bathroom, kissing her so deeply that her whole body reacts to him. the dye on her nose smears against his cheek, the dye on his hair gets on her hands, but matty cannot stop smiling like a fucking idiot. smiling and touching her and kissing her while they shed their clothes and get under the shower.

the water turns blue instantly, rivulets running under their feet, and matty gets down on his knees.

“let me…” he breathes, throwing her leg over his shoulder. his mouth is instantly between her legs, hands grabbing onto her thighs and her ass, while he looks up at her. her head is thrown back in ecstasy, fingers tangled in his freshly dyed hair.

he keeps going until she cums on his tongue and cums again. he keeps going until his knees hurt and the water runs clear. he keeps going until she can quite literally no longer stand.

then matty picks her up in his arms, and carries her to bed.

“i’ll be in brussels this time tomorrow,” she murmurs next to him the night before she’s set to leave.

it’s so late at night, she should be asleep. he should be asleep too, but he suspects they’re both up thinking the same thing. trying not to toss and turn and wake the other up… matty laughs at the irony.

“go to bed, bug,” he whispers. “you’ve got to be up by 7.”

she turns to him, barely visible in the moonlight. and yet matty doesn’t need to see her face to know what she’s thinking and how she’s feeling. he simply needs to listen to her breathing as it turns shallow.

“i do,” she nods and moves closer to him. matty opens up his arms and lets her find a comfy spot until she’s practically on top of him, until they’re one tangled entity. “i’ll be in brussels and you’ll be here.”

“we’ve been apart before,” he replies lamely.

“that was different! we were just friends then, and…”

“and?”

she shrugs, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder. “and i’d learned to suppress my feelings for you. it was fine then, i was fine!”

matty presses a kiss into her head. “i wasn’t. i missed you everyday.”

“liar!”

“i’d never lie to you, bug,” he giggles. “and i know it’s different now, but we have options. i can call you everyday, text you 24/7, fuck, i could show up to any country you’re in. it’s only europe, you’re right here!”

she laughs, and matty can hear the wobble in it. a second later, wetness touches his shoulder. “i don’t think the band does ‘bring your boyfriend to work’ days.”

“alex would love to have me around,” he teases.

that makes her snort properly. “you’re such a fanboy, it’s adorable.”

“rude!” he flicks her forehead. “go to bed now, i don’t want you feeling like a zombie tomorrow.”

she doesn’t respond after that, she just snuggles more into him, drawing circles on his arm until eventually her breathing deepens and her fingers stop moving. matty doesn’t sleep a wink though. he stays awake playing with her hair, fingers trying to memorise its softness, the precise texture of it. it’s only when the sky is on the verge of twilight does he manage to fall asleep.

it’s a quick, dreamless sleep, over like a flash in the pan, and before he knows it, her alarm goes off and matty groans awake.

she’s waking up too, eyes still closed and face so sleepy and soft that matty wants to tuck her back in bed and not let her go. but no matter how hard he wishes for it, she has to go. it’s a good opportunity for her, it will be so good for her career.

and yet and yet and yet.

matty sighs and places a kiss on her head.

“bug? you up?”

she mumbles sleepily. matty laughs.

“come on, you won’t be ready in time if you don’t wake up now.”

and that’s how they go back and forth—matty tries to coax her out of bed, she mumbles something and buries her face wherever she can, until finally he manages to shake her hard enough.

it’s funny to him how she stomps to the bathroom and comes out as a completely new person once she’s had her shower. he’s ready for her though, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. it’s the last time they will sit across from each other and have coffee for two months. last time before he’s sentenced to seeing her face on a tiny phone screen.

“you’re not gonna cry are you?” her eyes widen, and matty schools his face back into a smile. “if you cry, i’ll cry and then none of us is going anywhere.”

“i’m not a crybaby, love,” he flicks her nose, kissing it straight after. “i’ll miss you though. more than you’ll ever know.”

there’s not much he can say that won’t make him actually start crying. so he just enjoys the coffee with her and holds her close. he stays there, for as long as she needs until she has to finally get up and get ready to leave.

“matty, look!” she holds up a snail to the phone screen, eyes bright, excited. “i’m having snails.” then she puts on an exaggerated french accent. “escargot!”

matty laughs. “you don’t even like them, bug.”

“i do when they’re given to me in bed by room service.”

he briefly looks away from her face and behind her. there��s not much of a view, just the fancy headboard and a nightstand littered with jewellery and contact lens case and her frayed old headphones. matty smiles at it fondly and looks at the nightstand on her side of their bed—it’s empty, clean. he feels a pang in his chest.

matty looks back at her just in time to watch her make a face.

“okay maybe i’ll have them later,” she tries not cringe, he just snickers at her.

a bit later once she’s done eating, she gives him a tour of the room. it’s much of the same really, similar to the rooms she’d stayed in in rome and milan and berlin. he’s no stranger to any of it either, and yet he gives her his full attention, cooing at the view from her window even though they can barely see the eiffel tower. she looks happy about it, and so he is too.

“how was you day?” she asks once they’ve both settled in bed.

matty sighs, “much of the same really. worked a bit, then worked out a bit and now i’m talking to you.”

he doesn’t say that he could barely eat because he hates eating alone and misses her so bad. he doesn’t tell her that he forced george to be on call with him while he ate his sad little dinner of day old pizza and some chicken tenders.

“worked out,” she waggles her eyebrows, “gonna be fit before i come back to you?”

“for you? maybe.”

her breath quivers a little and matty sees the precise second her face shifts from a teasing smirk to something a little more intense. he sits up too, propped against his pillow. and sure it is july, the nights have already grown hotter, but something tells him the heat in the room is not because of that.

“did i show you photos from the show?”

“of alex?” matty raises a brow and she rolls her eyes, biting her lip a little.

“of me, idiot! was dressed like a proper 2013 arctic monkeys fan.”

he can see the image so clearly—her in a black mini-skirt and knee socks—and when she sends him a few photos his guess is confirmed. except there’s also her tight-fitting t-shirt that shows off everything matty wishes he could touch right now. he lets out a shaky breath, swiping through the photos.

“you like them?” her voice is shier than before, matty smirks.

“you look like a fantasy,” he breathes down the line, already half hard in his pyjama shorts. her breathy, seductive giggle doesn’t help matters. matty can’t help but palm himself lightly at the sound, imagining doing things to her in that tiny little skirt.

“what are you thinking?,” she speaks into the phone, mischief dancing in her tone.

“what do you want me to think?”

she twirls a little strand of hair around her finger, one long fingernail combing through her soft hair. he’s been dying to touch them again, dying to feel her fingernails scratch on his back while she moans and screams his name over and over again.

she touches her lips subconsciously, and that’s pretty much the last straw for him.

“what were you doing?” he asks. and then, pulls down his shorts.

he’s painfully hard by now, aching and desperate to feel her around him. but she’s a million kilometres away, alone and cold in a foreign bed and not in his arms like she should. so he has no other option but to touch himself like a sixteen year old boy. the thought of her doing just the same drives him insane.

“nothing. just wondering what you’d do if you would have seen me in that outfit.”

he hears her breath quiver over the last words.

“you want to know?” matty wraps a hand around the base of his cock, letting her uneven breathing wash over him. this is so horny and reckless. he can’t even go a few weeks without her for fuck’s sake…

but he can’t help himself, not when it comes to her.

“touch yourself like i would,” he says, “and then i’ll tell you everything i want to do to you…”

the phone sex doesn’t stop after that. if anything it opens up so many new avenues for him. almost every night a week, while he’s in the same old bed and she’s in a different bed each time, matty finds himself spilling in his own hand, wishing it was her hand, her face, her stomach. wishing it was her.

sex aside he misses her so dearly it’s like a hole has been carved in his chest precisely big enough to fit her.

“alex was so good today!” she squeals down the phone one night while she’s in madrid.

better than me? he almost says but keeps the words to himself. it’s jealousy rearing its ugly head, nothing more.

“oh yeah?”

she frowns at his disinterested tone. “you alright?”

“i’m just tired, bug.” matty runs a hand over his face, “i just want to sleep.”

“oh.”

her small voice instantly makes him open his eyes. she’s smiling at him, of course she is, but he can tell when her smiles are fake and when they are real. and the one right now is stretched so forcefully over her face that he wonders if it hurts.

“no, no,” he shakes his head, “i can stay up for a bit, it’s no big deal.”

“are you sure?”

he hates that he’s made her feel so unsure. of course he wants to stay awake and talk to her, all night if it weren’t for the fact she has busy days and long hours to work.

the sun hasn’t even properly set yet and she’s already in bed, looking quite tired if he’s being honest. she looks different than he’d last seen her too, suntanned and freckled—probably after spending fun afternoons at the beach with all these attractive people all around her—

stop it.

“we should go to the beach when you come back.” matty changes the topic abruptly. “just us, a proper beach day. it will be fun i think.”

“yeah?”

she settles deeper under her covers, resting her phone against a pillow so she won’t have to hold it upright. matty does the same, sleeping on his side. if he fools himself enough, it’s like they’re sleeping side by side again. if he fools himself, she’s back in his arms, snuggled up with him no matter how hot it is.

“you look so sleepy, bug,” he laughs, touching his phone screen like he’s caressing her cheek. “oh wait, a snug bug.”

“poetry,” she snorts, stifling a yawn. “i’m fine matty, i wanna talk to you. tomorrow’s a busy day, dunno if i can even text you all day.”

his mood sours instantly, but he tries not to show it on his face. she is working. this is not some holiday where she can set time aside to call and text him. besides he’s seen some of her photos posted on the band’s social media—her hard work shines through instantly. and ever time he sees them, pride swells in his chest.

“do you want to hear something george and i came up with the other day?”

she nods, pulling the covers up to her chin.

matty doesn't waste more time explaining what it is, he just starts humming. it’s at the very beginning stages of its creation—a song inspired by this summer—and yet, the more he hums, the more the melody just comes to him. the lyrics are gibberish, mostly just a lot of oohs and hmms but it’s accomplishing the goal he’s set out with.

her eyes droop more and more with each passing second, breathing deepening more, until he’s almost at the end of the song and she’s fast asleep.

her mouth is parted like always, hands tucked under her chin and knees pulled up to her chest like she’s preserving warmth even on a summer night. he wonders if she feels cold in hotel rooms, he wonders if she misses him just as much as he misses her, so strong it keeps him up at night sometimes, touching her side of the bed and her pillow.

he doesn’t hang up though. he stays on call, watching her sleep. he stays on call until she’s completely unmoving and unaware of anything else happening around her. he stays on call until her phone dies eventually and his screen goes black. then he cradles the device to his chest like it’s trapped her essence. and maybe it has.

when matty falls into a restless sleep that night, he only dreams of her.

the dreams become a permanent fixture. not like he’s complaining, not when he’s sleeping anyway. but then he has to wake up to the bleak reality that she’s not here, day after day, week after week.

they talk on the phone every single day of course, and with each passing day he knows her homecoming gets closer. somehow it’s harder.

days before she’s supposed to come, matty’s in a mood so foul that he doesn’t even call her. he just makes up some silly excuse and skips out on it.

her :( text makes him feel worse, but all he does is get in bed at 8 pm when it’s still light outside, and bury himself under blankets no matter how hot it is.

somewhere hours later, he falls into an uneasy sleep.

“shh, go back to sleep,” matty feels the bed dip in the wee hours of the morning, her voice a hoarse whisper. it’s a dream, his sleep-addled brain tells him, it’s another dream fueled by loneliness and missing her and being so so cold every night. it’s—

“baby?”

“hmm?”

“you’re not cold, are you?” she slides in behind him, still fully clothed. her soft, worn jeans rub against his thigh, then she drapes a bare arm over him. “you’ve got goosebumps.”

“you’re a dream,” matty mumbles, sleep coating each word. her deep laugh resonates all around him, surrounding him like a warm blanket.

“am i?” she kisses the shell of his ear. “how do you know?”

sleep threatens to take him under once again in the comfort of her arms. the feel of her hair brushing against is shoulder is familiar, it smells like her—like peaches and lilies. matty smiles to himself, this is by far the most realistic dream his brain has produced all summer.

“hey,” she kisses his shoulder, sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“you’re a dream…” matty repeats, “because i’ve had this dream before.”

“oh yeah?” he feels himself being pulled into a chest—so solid and real and warm. her fingers dance on his arms, from his shoulder to his elbow and back up, tickling just a little—not enough to fully wake him up, but definitely enough to hold him there, suspended in a limbo between sleep and consciousness. “what happens in your dream?”

“you come into our bed…”

“like this?” the smile in her voice is prominent.

“mm-hmm,” matty nods and turns, eyes closed, face burrowed into her chest now. her scent surrounds him stronger than before, with new things added to it—faint smell of coffee and the outdoors in general. he can feel his face squished between her boobs, which isn’t a new detail as far as his dreams go, but his brain has certainly upped the quality of it tonight.

it’s a dream it’s a dream it’s a dream, matty chants in his head over and over again till the words meld into each other and turn gibberish.

“and then?” her voice cuts through his spiral.

“and then you hold me, bug”

“i am holding you…” he feel her nod, and yet her arms tighten, cuddling him closer. the next time she speak, matty feels the vibrations of her voice running through his chest, passing through his heart.

“and then?”

instead of answering, he focuses on her fingers—up and down, up and down. from his shoulder to his elbow and back up. “sometimes you touch me,” he breathes into the crook of her neck, “other times you hold me until i wake up.” his voice is muffled, barely audible. it’s alright, though. she’s just a dream, a figment of his imagination, a part of him. how could she ever not understand him?

“i touch you?” she laughs, a little giggly, and matty nods. “how do i touch you?”

he takes her hand in his, traces the pads of her fingers, the lines on her palm. then he places her hands on his bare chest—smooth, small fingers touching his ribs, trailing downward toward his stomach and his belly button. matty sighs. “you touch me like that. like you do when you’re really here…”

“matty, i am really here!” she laughs, kissing his head this time. her thumb moves in circles on his collarbone. “open your eyes, ‘m right here.”

“‘s a trick,” he mumbles. a moment later his mouth finds the hollow of her throat. her skin is slightly cold to the touch, halfway to warming up. against his lips he feels the chain she always wears, like she’s come back home and gotten straight into bed. matty scoffs, what a strange thought.

“you’ll disappear if i open my eyes. and i want you to stay. i miss you…” he says, “i can’t wait two more days till you’re home.”

“you don’t have to,” she giggles—it’s a giddy, breathless sound that makes him smile too.

“you’re a good dream,” matty holds onto her tight, relishing how solid she feels in his arms. “the best dream i’ve ever had.”

her hands move over his body again until they’re on his face, cradling his cheek. then he feels her tilting his chin up, feels her lips on his—just one tiny, soft kiss. she smiles against his mouth, says something too but the words don’t fully register in his mind.

“i’ll see you soon,” matty murmurs, properly sleepy now, unable to hold on for much longer.

“you will,” her voice holds a promise. “go to sleep now, i can’t wait to see you in the morning.”

he chuckles at her words. just before sleep properly drags him under, he places his hand on her cheek, feels the familiar soft skin under his palm and hears her sigh.

“and you’ll be here in the morning?” he teases, “will you be here as a daydream, bug?”

she threads her fingers through his hair, playing with them till it’s impossible to hold on to consciousness. just as he’s about to slip under, he hears her exhale. “i’ll be here as anything you want me to be,” she murmurs, kissing the crown of his head.

matty succumbs to sleep.

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @indierockgirrl @tonguepiercedanyway75 @if-my-heart-bleeds @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @starvchaser @noacfapologyst @abouttofillhisshoes @tbhnotthatfunny @wrongendofyourcigarettte

add yourself to / remove yourself from the taglist

#summer fics #seasons #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x reader #matty x you

132 notes · View notes

cilil · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, do you have any advices for budding writers on AO3 or here?

Hey! :)

I've given this some thought and compiled what I hope might be some helpful pointers, but if there's anything else or anything specific you want to hear more about, feel free to ask again. Also I'm assuming this is about the amazing craft of fanfic and not, uh, building a platform or whatever (I wouldn't be very helpful with that, I'm a nobody x)).

Share what you feel comfortable sharing.

So since you're asking about budding writers on AO3 and Tumblr, I take it you're at a point where you feel comfortable sharing your writing online, which is amazing. Nevertheless, I feel the need to once again mention (just for anyone who may be in the same or a similar situation) that it's completely alright not to be comfortable with it (yet) or not to share everything you write. I share almost everything simply because I'm annoying and it makes me feel accomplished and since I've grown pretty comfortable with it, I might as well; but not everyone feels that way and feelings also change. It's completely alright to write just for yourself or a small circle of friends.

Don't worry too much about "being good".

I will be the first to admit that I deeply relate to struggling with perfectionism when it comes to writing (and other creative pursuits). However, as someone who's been reading fic for many years, tends to be into quite niche and obscure things sometimes and is rarely spoiled by big fandoms' abundance of food, I want all writers, especially new ones, to know that you don't have to write the most amazing, perfect, publishing-ready pieces. What matters is your passion and creativity, which will show in your writing regardless of skill level. Not to mention that fic is free and in fact a tool for many to experiment.

That's not to say you can't strive to improve or be good - by all means, I find it admirable if you want to hone your craft and make progress as you continue to write. Just don't let perfectionism ruin your fun and stifle your creativity.

How to get better without trying overly hard.

Aside from just writing, writing and writing (that is the most important part though), how do you improve without making it a point to do so? Well, if it works for you to read/watch guides or you enjoy specific writing exercises, that's great, but one thing that I find gets overlooked a lot in writing spaces is simply: Reading. Just reading for fun.

I find that I often discover little things in other people's writing that I really like and then I think to myself "wow, that's really neat how they did that, maybe I could take a page out of their book" (pun intended) and make it a point to pay attention to these things when I write. Essentially, it's like creating a nice patchwork blanket which is your style, made up of your own voice and preferences as a writer and cool stuff you picked up on the road.

Let me just name some examples, which, yes, are also an excuse to shamelessly blow some writer friends of mine a well-deserved kiss of appreciation. @sauron-kraut writes incredibly polished short stories with beautiful wording and atmosphere that have a lot of little hidden things to discover and dissect, and I want to steal her ability to set the stage and hide those easter eggs. @a-world-of-whimsy-5 is an absolute legend when it comes to writing medieval and medieval-adjacent stuff, and I learned so much from her fics. @i-did-not-mean-to has a way of writing with such esprit and wit that I always end up in a good mood after, a style of narrative voice I've adored for over a decade, and I've greatly improved my humorous writing in particular thanks to her. @crackinthecup has the marvelous ability to craft extremely emotionally evocative scenes, which have encouraged me to be more courageous and experimental in my sentence melody and structure. @tragedybunny has a way of writing that reminds me of coming home to a warm and comfy place, and I will find out how she did it and how I can do it as well.

So as you can see, it can be super helpful to compare notes with your fellow writers. Never be discouraged by someone else's ability; instead learn and expand your own.

Feedback, criticism and community.

Let me just get one thing out of the way: You don't have to take criticism from everyone. Or at all. As far as I understand, the fanfic community has come to to agree that we're doing this for fun and don't give criticism unprompted/when we aren't sure it's wanted or welcome. As a general rule: Take criticism from those you would also seek advice from. Ask for feedback if you feel comfortable, and if not, that's a valid boundary to have and I will gently smack anyone who presumes to pick apart writing that was made for fun and generously shared with the community for free.

The community aspect, however, should be taken into account on other fronts. While I won't tell anyone they have to interact and believe that, in an ideal world, everyone's writing would just speak for itself, it is helpful to engage with the community. Things you can do (both on Tumblr and AO3 if also applicable/possible) include: Respond to people interacting with your works, interacting with other people's works (for example while you're doing your reading sessions and looking at other writers' styles) and just overall being present, being talkative, going with the flow.

Again, this is not a must. But I will say that pretty much all of us want positive responses and interactions on their work and that just won't work if you expect everyone to show up for you all the time and never show up for anyone else. Engagement, passion and community are our "currency" in the absence of money and reciprocity is an important element of that. A lot of friction and complaints in the fanfic community regarding lack of interaction or entitlement are rooted in misunderstandings of this fundamental principle.

But don't take this in a cynical manner. Seek out what you enjoy, share the joy and passion and you'll make friends just accidentally - which is the part that I find makes fandom on AO3 and Tumblr so much fun! (I don't even want to be a "traditional" author anymore, I want this instead😁)

Find your groove and groove along.

Lastly, make sure your writing is fun for you or else it'll become a chore and eventually get ruined for you as a hobby. This is unfortunately a continuous task as your needs and interests shift - for example you might be in the mood to do an entire drabble challenge one month and during another month you feel so drained that you couldn't do another one. Or you might want to write something different for a change. Or whatever it may be.

Either way, one recent lesson I've learned is that I got too tied up in obligations and it left no space for spontaneous inspiration, so I never got to write what I wanted to write in the moment and it pushed me quite close to burnout. Do yourself a favor and always hold that space for yourself. In practice, this could for example mean that you do one event and on the side write this cool new idea you had, instead of doing three events - which is fun and games until it starts getting too much and you don't have time for your passion projects.

Finding your groove also includes the whole technical aspect, such as which writing programs you use, which device (or none at all), where you write, how to make yourself comfortable, how to get in the right headspace for things. I would also like to encourage all of you to be a bit crazy and whimsical about this: For example I've gone to the perfume store, picked out a scent for a specific character in a specific scene and sniffed it while writing the description several times now. Do what it takes. And say goodbye to your squeaky clean search history - you will research some weird stuff just to get that one line right.

So yeah, these are just my random thoughts on fic writing and what has been helpful in order for me to have lots of fun with this hobby. Happy writing!

#on writing #writing advice #fanfic #fanfic community #fandom

60 notes · View notes

mono-dot-jpeg · 2 years ago

Text

child! reader w/blade, yanqing, natasha, & gepard

summary; thoughts being thunk about cute scenarios with child! reader

genre/extra tags; fluff, blade is probably ooc, don't give blade a child, yanqing being a big brother, yanqing and reader gang up on jingyuan, natasha my beloved, gepard big brother arc, but gepard is an awkward big brother, whoops my hand slipped now there's angst (natasha's part), blade wants to punt a kid (/hj)

[gender neutral! reader] [child 7-9! reader] [platonic]

[warnings; implied for reader to be heavily sick often (natasha)]

a/n; *smacks my head* this baby holds loads of child!reader ideas, thanks to their family being the way their family is. good ol' trauma. you didn't pick any characters in particular other than just non-express crew characters. hope you enjoy

it's a fucking miracle that you're even standing next to this man. kafka just had to give you to him. luckily, blade is less violent than he looks. and luckily for you, you hold no fear.

"you look ugly like that." you point at him, your tiny finger inching a little too close to his eye. "why do you look like that?" kafka stifles a laugh as she watches from afar.

"i can't believe i want to punt a child." he mutters. "i don't know, why do you look like that?" he retaliates.

"look like what? ms. kafka says i'm cute!" your hand goes limp to rest on your lap.

"you are anything but cute, you devil spawn."

you gasped, "ms. kafka! blade is being mean!" you get up to run to the woman, who is laughing silently. "he called me a devil spawn... whatever that means!"

"it means you're tiny. and stupid." blade says, watching as you hide behind kafka's leg.

"no, you're stupid!" you stick your tongue out at him.

"you little sh-"

"curse jar!"

"yannie!" you cheered loudly.

"y/n!" he cheers back. you run to him as he picks you up. "do you want to walk around today?" you nodded. "let's go get some allowance from the general first!"

"jing!" you and yanqing arrive at the general's office.

"if it isn't our little cloud knight." jingyuan watches as the young blonde puts you down to go run at him. "i could only wonder what you are doing here with yanqing."

"i wan' to explore with yanqing!" you climb up jingyuan's legs as he watches with a fond gaze.

"is that so?"

you nodded, "but me 'n yan need help." jingyuan looks at you confused before turning to look at yanqing.

"we need some money, general..." jingyuan raises an eyebrow, glancing at you who shows him puppy eyes. and then yanqing tries to play off his ask with an innocent grin.

jingyuan can't help but sigh, "for a lieutenant and a little cloud knight, you two sure are sly." he smiles gently.

"you think we can annoy serval?" an impish grin starts to grow on your face.

"we really shouldn't do that." gepard chides you. you groan.

"but i'm so bored! she's got cool ga- gad-gets."

"gadgets."

"yeah! i wanna see them! i wanna watch serval work!"

"she's probably busy, y/n." you huffed as you struggled in gepard's arms, "stop it!"

"what can we do then?" you pouted. "what do you wanna do?"

awkward silence...

"my idea is better! let's go see big sis!" you tug on his clothes as if it would anything to make him move faster.

"how about we make something for serval? wouldn't that be fun?"

"hm? making something like a gad-gets?"

"gadget. yeah, maybe something like that. or we can draw something for her, and she can put it up somewhere."

"yeah, let's do that!" you cheered, walking alongside gepard and putting your hand in his.

it's no doubt that your parents would leave you in the care of the nicer-est nurse in town (your words, not hers). even if you were a not so amazing state, you can't help but still be happy.

"i think you're a superhero, ms. natasha. i wanna make a story about you!" you've always been a creative soul, it was one of the few things you can do with being bedridden for days on end. writing was a favorite. but you really liked making comics.

"i'm just doing my job, dear. i think you should make a story about yourself." natasha speaks with fondness as she distracts you from getting a shot. "you're just as strong as a hero." her voice is bittersweet but you don't notice it.

"how about i make a story about us? we can be the best-est heroes in the world!" you beamed at your own genius suggestion. "i can be your sidekick!"

"i would love to see that story someday." she smiles. "i know it will be amazing as always." she places a band aid where your shot was taken. her thumb brushes over it once, then again. "i'll even put it up by your bed. framed and everything."

she just hopes you live to see another day.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr natasha #hsr gepard #hsr blade #hsr yanqing #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail blade #honkai star rail blade x reader #blade x reader #yanqing x reader #natasha x reader #honkai blade x reader #honkai yanqing x reader #honkai natasha x reader

963 notes · View notes

peavhyshy · 11 months ago

Text

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - SHOPPING SPREE

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing ─ ୨୧ ─ Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron ⋆ Pogue!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe goes over-the-top as usual to apologize for cheating which includes a grand gesture of buying out an entire boutique is creatively meant to.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ strong language, fluff, semi smut (but not really), power dynamics, mental/emotional manipulation and ulterior motives, reference to cheating, sexually suggestive situations, non-consensual elements (pressure/coercion into sexual acts), dubious consent, unhealthy relationship, discomfort/anxiety, misogyny/objectification.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 5,130

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ It's been a while since I posted on here and whatever so here I am, but who's to say I won't disappear for another few months.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sauntered into the high-end boutique, the little bell above the door announcing his arrival. The sales associates perked up, eyeing his Ralph Lauren polo and Sperry boat shoes. Ah, a Kook with money to burn.

"Hello sir, can I help you find anything today?" the manager asked, her voice dripping with fake pleasantness.

"Yeah, I need to buy out like, your whole store," Rafe said nonchalantly, checking out a display of cashmere sweaters.

The associates' eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Buy out the whole store, sir?"

"Yep. I screwed up badly with my girl. She's a Pogue, you know? Doesn't really do the whole fancy clothes thing. But she found out I cheated on her with some Touron last week, and now she's pissed." Rafe picked up a floral sundress, scrutinizing it. "So I figured, what better way to say sorry than decking her out in some new designer threads?"

The manager nodded enthusiastically. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture. Let me start ringing up some items for you."

"Nah, like I said, I want to buy out the whole damn store. Just name your price." Rafe pulled out his credit card, waving it around.

The manager's eyes lit up at the thought of the huge commission she was about to make. "Of course, sir, let me calculate our current retail inventory value and I'll give you a total."

"Make it quick. I’ve got a picnic on the beach planned to beg for her forgiveness," Rafe said, leaning on the cash wrap counter impatiently.

The manager returned shortly with the grand total. Rafe didn't even blink as he handed over his credit card. Anything to get his Pogue princess back.

Rafe leaned against the wall near the cash register, watching with disinterest as the store employees scurried around grabbing items off racks and shelves.

"Come on, pick up the pace," he called out impatiently. "I wanna get out of here before the sun goes down."

The manager gave him an appeasing smile as she stuffed an armful of sundresses into a large box. "We're going as fast as we can, sir. I really appreciate your business - this is the biggest sale we've ever had!"

Rafe just shrugged, stifling a yawn. The workers were cramming the boxes full of tissue paper and accessories, trying to maximize what they could fit. Shoes, handbags, skirts, tops - everything was being cleared off the floors and walls.

One associate struggled to fold a pile of cashmere sweaters to fit in an overflowing box while another carefully wrapped up a display of fine china jewelry. The store was slowly emptying out as the minutes ticked by.

"Ugh, this is taking forever," Rafe groaned, pulling out his phone to scroll aimlessly. "I should've just gone to Party City and bought her a bunch of balloons or something."

The manager's smile strained a bit as she kept up her enthusiastic energy. "Almost done, sir! Just a few more minutes and you'll have our entire inventory to present to your lovely girlfriend."

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe muttered, back to being bored. Buying out the whole store was proving to be more tedious than he had anticipated. But hey, you were worth it. Probably.

”I need all of this shipped to her beach house.”

The manager nodded as she taped up another overstuffed box. "Of course, sir. I can arrange delivery to any address you'd like."

She gestured to one of the other employees. "Sara, can you grab some shipping labels? We'll need to send all of these boxes to this gentleman's girlfriend's house once we're finished packing everything up."

Sara hurried to grab a stack of shipping labels and a pen. "What's the address, sir?" she asked Rafe.

"Oh, uh..." Rafe scratched his head. "Somewhere in The Cut, not really sure of the exact address. It's a small blue house near the bay though, it has a tire swing out front. Think the name on the mailbox is L/N or something like that."

Sara looked confused. "Do you have the street name or number? There are a lot of small blue houses in The Cut."

Rafe rolled his eyes. "Jesus, I don't know that shit. Her dad's name is Hank though, if that helps. Everyone knows Hank the Tank down there."

The manager and Sara exchanged a look, neither seeming confident about locating the right address.

"Tell you what," Rafe continued, pulling out a thick wad of cash from his back pocket. "Here's 500 bucks. That should cover you guys figuring out where the hell to deliver all this stuff to Y/N in The Cut. I'm sure one of the Pogues down there can point you in the right direction."

He tossed the cash on the counter and headed for the door without another word, leaving the overwhelmed store employees with boxes piled high and vague delivery information.

You squinted against the setting sun as three large delivery trucks rumbled down the sandy driveway toward your family's weathered beach house. You set down your cards on the rickety picnic table, where you had been playing an intense game of Crazy Eights with John B, JJ, Sarah, and Kiara.

"What the hell is this?" you muttered. The trucks parked haphazardly amidst the uncut grass and strewn beach debris surrounding the house. Drivers hopped out and opened up the backs, revealing piles and piles of boxes crammed to the brim.

"Whoa, did you order the entire Amazon warehouse or something?" JJ joked, sauntering over to inspect the deliveries.

Before you could respond, the porch boards creaked loudly under the weight of multiple pairs of high-heeled shoes. The group turned to see half a dozen boutique store employees teetering across the uneven ground, laden with clothing on hangers and large shopping bags.

"Oh no..." you groaned, realization dawning on you.

"Delivery for Ms. Y/N L/N!" one of the women trilled, scanning the rural beachfront for the recipient.

"That's you, Y/N," John B said, giving you a puzzled look.

Just then, a delivery man approached with an oversized bouquet of roses and a card. "Are you Ms. Y/N? These are for you along with all of these boxes."

"I'm going to kill him," you seethed, grabbing the card. Sure enough, it was from Rafe, attempting to apologize for cheating in his usual over-the-top Kook fashion.

The others laughed, taking in the three trucks overflowing with designer clothes and accessories that had arrived on your doorstep. The group whooped and raced toward the trucks, laughing at Rafe's attempt to buy back your forgiveness. You had to admit - it was a pretty damn good start.

The sun had just set over the expansive Cameron estate as you marched up the long driveway and let yourself in the front door. You breezed past the elaborate foyer and down the hall towards the state-of-the-art home gym, where you knew you would find Rafe.

Sure enough, there he was - shirtless and pumping iron, the clanking of weights echoing through the large room. You crossed your arms, watching as Rafe finished his set of bicep curls before acknowledging your presence.

"Oh hey babe," he said casually, setting down the dumbbells. "I see you got my gifts."

"You mean the eighteen-wheeler trucks filled with designer clothes that choked the road to my house all afternoon?" you replied sharply.

Rafe grinned. "So I take it, you liked them?"

You rolled your eyes. "Did you seriously buy out the entire Verona Boutique?"

"Maybe," Rafe shrugged, grabbing his towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Why would you do that?" you asked in exasperation.

"Come on, I was just trying to apologize for what I did," Rafe said. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

You sighed heavily. "You can't buy me off with fancy clothes, Rafe. That's not how this works."

Rafe stood up and walked over to you. "But did it at least make you smile a little?" he asked with a coy grin.

Despite yourself, You felt the corners of your mouth turn upward. You shook your head, trying to fight the smile.

"You're unbelievable," you scoffed. But Rafe took your reaction as a promising sign.

"So...am I forgiven?" he asked.

You shrugged, struggling to stay stern. "You're not off the hook yet. But...it's a start."

Rafe smiled victoriously and pulled you into an embrace. You hated to admit it, but his over-the-top gesture did melt away some of your anger. Only a Kook would think that buying out an entire boutique could fix cheating - but you had to give him points for creativity.

Rafe's face lit up with a delighted grin as he saw the smile fighting its way onto your lips. Score! He knew you couldn't stay mad at him for long, not when he pulled out all the stops with his over-the-top apology gifts. Sure, buying you an entire wardrobe wasn't exactly practical, but he wanted to go big to show you how much he cared. Because even though he screwed up by cheating, your were still his girl and he needed you to know you were #1. No Touron hookup could ever mean anything compared to you.

Pulling you tighter into his embrace, Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you nuzzled into his bare chest. He could tell the wheels were still turning in your mind, trying to decide if you were ready to fully forgive him yet. But he had plenty more tricks up his sleeve if needed. Diamonds, a new car, a trip to Paris - anything you wanted, it was yours. Being the heir to the Cameron fortune had its perks when you needed to get yourself out of the doghouse.

"So when are you gonna model some of these new outfits for me, hmm?" he murmured suggestively in your ear. "Maybe a private fashion show tonight? I'll even let you use my black AmEx again if you want to pick up some sexy lingerie to complete the looks." He grinned devilishly.

You rolled your eyes and gently pushed out of his embrace. "Down boy. You're not off the hook yet," you reminded him, though your tone had softened considerably. Rafe held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay okay, I know. But you gotta admit, the mental image is pretty hot," he said with a wink. you just shook your head, trying to hide your smile. You could never stay irritated with him for long.

"Alright, I should get home and figure out what to do with the small mountain of designer clothes currently cluttering up my living room," You sighed. "I still can't believe you bought out the entire store."

Rafe waved a hand casually. "Don't even trip about it. Consider it just a small token of my love," he said smoothly.

You quirked an eyebrow. "A small token? Rafe, it's got to be worth at least $20,000 worth of stuff."

Rafe shrugged. "Meh, that's like pocket change for me, babe. You're worth it and so much more." He pulled you in for a quick kiss. "I'll swing by later to help you sort through it all, yeah?"

You nodded, a genuine smile breaking through now. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you later." you gave him one last peck on the lips before heading out, shaking your head slightly at your ridiculous boyfriend's attempt to buy your forgiveness. But even you had to admit it was a pretty damn adorable gesture. The boy was utterly smitten, that much was clear. And even if it took a small army of delivery trucks worth of designer clothes to prove it, you supposed you couldn't complain. After all, what girl didn't love a massive shopping spree courtesy of the Cameron family fortune?

Rafe sauntered up the stairs of your beach house, not bothering to knock before letting himself in. your dad was away on a fishing charter and he knew you’d be home alone trying to organize the massive shipment of clothes he had sent over as an apology gift.

"Knock knock, princess!" he called out as he strode down the hall to your bedroom. "Did you get a chance to try on any of the new outfits I bought you?"

He pushed open your bedroom door to find you sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by mounds of tissue paper and discarded shopping bags. You looked up at him in exasperation.

"Rafe! You could at least knock before barging into my room," you admonished.

“My bad, didn't mean to startle you. Just excited to see my gifts being put to use," he said with a grin.

You sighed, gesturing to the chaos around you. "Well, I've been trying to sort through it all morning but there's just so much stuff. You went way overboard as usual."

"Anything to make my girl happy," Rafe replied smoothly, plopping down on the floor next to you. "Here, let me help you get organized."

He began sifting through the piles of clothing, occasionally holding up items for your inspection. "Ooh, you have to model this one for me," he said, grabbing a lacy black teddy. "And this mini skirt would look so hot on you."

You blushed deeply, snatching the risqué items out of his hands. "Rafe! My dad could be home any minute," you hissed in embarrassment.

"So? I want him to see how smoking his daughter looks in the outfits I bought her," Rafe said with a devilish grin. "Might make him finally approve of me."

You buried your face in your hands. "You're unbelievable," you groaned. "Can we please just focus on organizing? I don't have time for an impromptu fashion show."

"Fine fine, I'll behave. For now," he added in a playful whisper.

You guys spent the next hour sorting your new wardrobe into categories - dresses, tops, bottoms, shoes, jewelry. Rafe "helped" by periodically holding up scandalous lingerie pieces and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively until you threaten to smack him with a stiletto heel.

Despite your exasperation at the overabundance of clothing, you had to admit it was fun exploring all the different styles and accessories Rafe had picked out for you. The boy definitely knew your taste, even if he did go over-the-top with buying out the entire store. You made a mental note to donate some of the clothes to charity once you had a chance to try it all on.

You collapsed backwards onto a pile of cashmere sweaters. "Phew! We’re almost done." You smiled over at Rafe. "Thanks for your help. And for the very generous gift. Even though it's pretty ridiculous you bought out an entire store," you added with a laugh.

Rafe grinned and leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Anything for my princess," he murmured. "You deserve to be spoiled rotten."

You giggled as he nuzzled your neck, wrapping your arms around him. You supposed you couldn't stay irritated with him for long, not when he was just trying to show his affection through expensive gifts. Over-the-top as it may be.

"Alright Casanova, that's enough distracting me," You said, playfully nudging him away. "Now help me get all of these clothes put away in my closet before my dad gets home."

You shook your head in amusement. "You're absolutely ridiculous. But…" You tilted your head up to him and smiled."I love you for it."

Rafe playfully tackled you onto the pile of cashmere sweaters you had been sorting through. You let out a surprised squeal, smacking his chest lightly as he hovered over you. "Rafeee, I told you to behave!" you chided through your laughter. He just grinned mischievously, dipping his head to kiss along your neck and collarbone as you squirmed beneath him ticklishly.

"Mm mm, you know I can never keep my hands off you for long," he murmured against your skin, nipping lightly. His hands slid up under your shirt, tracing along your stomach and ribs. You shivered at the contact, cheeks flushing as you felt him growing hard against your thigh already. You really shouldn't be doing this with your dad liable to come home any minute…but then again, the risk just made it more exciting.

You bit your lip, hesitating only a moment longer before grabbing Rafe's face and crashing your lips to his in a hungry kiss. He groaned into your mouth, grinding his hips down against yours. Things were escalating fast, all thoughts of organizing clothes now tossed aside. Rafe broke the kiss only to tug your shirt over your head swiftly. His eyes drank in the sight of your breasts encased in a lacy pink bra.

"Damn baby…have I mentioned how fucking sexy you look in all these new lingerie pieces I bought you?" He reached around to unclasp your bra, leaning down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimpered, arching into him. You were quickly losing the willpower to stop this and he knew it. His hands slid under your skirt, fingers dipping beneath your panties to find you wet and ready for him already. His hands wandered recklessly over your body, groping and grasping wherever they pleased..

"R-Rafe, my dad…" You gasped half-heartedly in protest even as your body betrayed you, arching into his touch.

Rafe silenced you with another bruising kiss, grinding his arousal against you. His fingers tangled in your hair, using it as a handle to maneuver your head for better access to your neck and chest.

"Shh, don't worry about him," Rafe crooned, his breath hot against your ear. "It's just us right now." His knee nudged between your legs, parting your thighs as he claimed your mouth once more.

Your knees went weak, overwhelmed by the onslaught of Rafe's hungry kisses and wandering hands. You clung to his shoulders for support, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the sparking heat of his body pressed to yours. Your token protests died away as Rafe's skilled fingers caressed the soft skin of your breasts.

"That's my good girl," he praised darkly when you arched into his touch instead of pulling away. His knee rubbed teasingly between your legs as he continued his pleasurable assault, intent on showing you exactly who was in control here.

Your mind reeled, inner alarm bells drowned out by the pounding heartbeat in your ears. You knew you should push Rafe away, stop this before it went too far with your dad possibly home any minute. But your traitorous body seemed to have other ideas as it melted shamefully against Rafe's hard frame.

His kisses left you dizzy and compliant, willpower evaporating under the intoxicating strokes of his hands. But when those hands went to zip down your skirt, some deeply buried remnant of reason sparked back to life inside you.

"Rafe, stop," you gasped out, catching his wrists in your hands. He paused, eyes dark with lust and irritation at being denied his prize.

"Come on baby, don't be like that," he cajoled, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I know you want this too."

You shook your head, gently but firmly removing his hands from your body. "No, not now. Not here." Your cheeks burned but you held your ground. "I'm not comfortable going any further with my dad so close by. Can we please just…slow down?"

Rafe's jaw tightened, displeasure evident at having his fun interrupted. But after a tense moment he stepped back.

"Fine, princess, whatever you say," he relented, tone dripping with poorly concealed frustration. You let out a shaky breath, tugging your rumpled clothing back into place. Your lips still tingled from the force of Rafe's kisses but the frenzied moment had passed.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I just don't want our first time to be so…rushed," You said earnestly, hoping he could understand despite his obvious annoyance at being denied. His eyes remained dark but he managed a tight smile.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Wouldn't want Daddy dearest walking in on us anyway," he said with an eye roll. You smiled weakly, knowing that was as close to understanding as you would get from him right now. At least he had backed off for the moment. But you had a feeling this conversation was far from over. Rafe did not like being told no.

He swallowed down his anger, forcing his face into a strained smile. He had to play this carefully; you Lila too much and you’d bolt. No, he needed to lure you in gently, make you trust him completely.

"Of course, princess. We'll take this at your pace," he said smoothly, stroking your cheek. "I just got carried away because you're so damn irresistible." He kissed your forehead, the very picture of understanding despite the lust still raging inside him.

You visibly relaxed, giving him a shy smile. "Thank you, Rafe. I'm glad you understand. I promise, when the time is right…" You trailed off, blushing. Rafe tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your neck teasingly.

"Don't worry baby, I'll make it so good for you when you're ready," he purred. You shivered, skin tingling from his touch. "For now, why don't you model some of these new outfits for me? Might give me a sneak peek of what I have to look forward to." He grinned devilishly.

You laughed, swatting his chest playfully. "You're incorrigible," you admonished, but went to pick out a few items from the piles of new clothes. Rafe settled on your bed, hungry eyes tracking your every movement. For now, he would enjoy the little fashion show. But it was only a matter of time before those clothes ended up scattered across the bedroom floor instead.

A relieved smile crossed your face as Rafe appeared to accept your request to slow things down without argument. You knew he must be frustrated, but you appreciate him respecting your boundaries for now. There would be a right time and place for intimacy later on.

As you sifted through the piles of new clothes, Your smile faltered slightly. You could feel Rafe's intense gaze following your every movement, almost palpable in its hunger. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not entirely an unpleasant one. Still, something about the glint in his eyes gave you pause.

You selected a few simple, conservative outfits to model - a loose fitting sundress, some shorts with a flowy blouse. But Rafe tsked in disappointment, getting up to rummage through the options himself.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that," he coaxed, grabbing a slinky miniskirt and cropped tank top. "I want to see my sexy girl shine." He shot you a playful grin as he pressed the revealing clothes into your hands.

You laughed nervously. "Rafe, those aren't really my style…" But he pouted childishly, guiding you towards the adjoining bathroom.

"Humor me? Just a peek," he insisted. You hesitated, then relented with a shy smile. You had never worn anything so risqué before, but the delight on Rafe's face was gratifying. And it was just the two of you after all…

You changed quickly, adjusting the tiny skirt over yourself. The top was snug and showed a hint of midriff that made you self-conscious. But Rafe's eager expression as you stepped out stopped any protests before they left your lips.

"Stunning," he breathed, drinking in the sight of you. You blushed under his intense scrutiny, suddenly feeling very exposed. But you tried to push past it, giving an awkward little twirl to show off the outfit fully. Rafe's grin was downright predatory.

"Now take it off nice and slow," he said lowly, eyes raking over you. "Give me a proper show."

You balked, arms crossing instinctively over your torso. "Rafe, I…" His eyebrows shot up in challenge and you faltered. Maybe you were overthinking things. You didn't want to disappoint him again…

With trembling fingers, You reached for the hem of the snug tank top. But the voice inside screaming this was a bad idea only grew louder. You dropped your hands, shaking your head firmly as you backed towards the bathroom.

"I'm sorry Rafe, I can't do this. The clothes need to stay on." Your voice was small but resolute. You wouldn't ignore your instincts, not even to placate Rafe's desires. His scowl made your stomach twist anxiously, but you stood your ground, waiting for his response.

Taking a deep breath, Rafe fixed an understanding smile on his face. "You're right, I got carried away again. I'm sorry," he said gently. "I just can't control myself around you sometimes. You look so gorgeous in that outfit."

He approached you slowly until you allowed him to take your hands in his. "Of course the clothes should stay on until you're ready. I'm truly sorry for pushing you, princess." He brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles.

You visibly relaxed, giving him a grateful smile. "It's okay, Rafe. Thank you for understanding." You leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before disappearing back into the bathroom to change.

You emerged from the bathroom in a comfortable sundress, feeling infinitely more at ease now that you were back in your own clothes. Rafe's obvious disappointment tugged at your heartstrings for a moment, but you brushed it aside. You knew in your gut that stripping for him, even just down to your underwear, wasn't something you were ready for yet.

To your relief, Rafe seemed to have reigned himself in and was back to his usual charming self, apologizing for getting carried away again. You smiled up at him gratefully, leaning in to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you for being so patient with me," You said earnestly. "It really means a lot. I know this is all new for me." you ducked your head a bit shyly.

Rafe tilted your chin up, smiling fondly as he gazed down at you. "Of course, princess. I'll wait as long as you need. I'm just happy to be with you," he assured you smoothly.

Your heart swelled. You knew you had been lucky to find a guy like Rafe. Wealthy Kook boys had a reputation for being entitled spoiled brats. But most people didn't get to see this sweet, caring side of Rafe like you did. He could be impulsive and hot headed at times, but he respected your boundaries when it really mattered.

"You're the best boyfriend ever," You declared, going up on tiptoe to kiss him warmly. Rafe grinned against your lips, strong arms circling your waist.

"Anything for my girl," he murmured affectionately when you broke apart. You playfully booped his nose, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Alright mister, as much as I appreciate these new clothes, I could really use some help donating some of them," you said in a practical tone. "I can't even wear this many outfits in a lifetime!"

Rafe heaved a dramatic sigh but smiled good-naturedly. "Fiiine, guess I did go a little overboard on the shopping spree," he conceded. You giggled.

"Just a bit. Come on, let's get started." You took his hand, leading him back to the piles of clothes awaiting sorting. Even if Rafe's impulsive extravagance could be frustrating at times, You were grateful to have someone so attentive and willing to lavish you with gifts and affection. You hoped in time he would come to value you for more than just your looks or virginity. For now, You were content to take things slow and simply enjoy exploring young love one day at a time.

Rafe resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he let you lead him by the hand back to the piles of designer clothes he had gifted you. Donating them? What a pointless waste. He had spent a small fortune solely with the intent of seeing you decked out in finery, not giving it away to the destitute Pogues of the Cut.

But he bit his tongue, keeping up the doting act. "Of course I'll help, babe. Anything you want," he said smoothly, playing with your fingers.

Soon, he promised himself as he pulled you in for a chaste kiss on the forehead that contradicted his lustful thoughts. Your smile made him want to gag, but he mirrored it charmingly. Let you enjoy playing house a little while longer. He was adept at getting what he wanted from any woman eventually. The thought made Rafe's cock stir impatiently, but he willed it down. Not yet. He needed to lull you into total complacency first before finally stripping away the last of your resistance.

You hummed contentedly to yourself as you neatly folded clothes into donation boxes, Rafe helping beside you. You smiled up at him after he gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead, happy you guys seemed to be back in sync after the brief tension earlier.

You held up a slinky red cocktail dress, pondering keeping it for a special occasion. But no, it wasn't really your style at all. Into the donation box it went. You frowned slightly as you pulled out several incredibly risqué lingerie items - crotchless panties, lace teddies that left little to the imagination. Definitely not your taste.

"Geez Rafe, did you raid the whole lingerie section?" you asked with a laugh. Rafe just shrugged, unbothered. You shook your head in amusement as you set them aside to give to your more adventurous friend.

Once all the clothes were sorted, you surveyed the boxes contentedly. You had kept enough everyday outfits to last a lifetime, but now many girls in the Cut would have the chance to enjoy fancy new clothes too. It made you happy to spread the wealth, so to speak.

"There, all done! The donation center is going to be thrilled." You smiled brightly at Rafe. "This was a really great idea. I know I said it already, but thank you again for being so generous. And understanding about…everything," you finished, cheeks pinking slightly.

Rafe smiled back warmly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Of course, babe. Anything for you," he said, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. You snuggled into his side, relieved you seemed to be back on the same page.

You hoped with time, Rafe would see you as more than just a conquest or object of physical desire. For now, you were content taking it slow, focusing on emotional intimacy over physical. You had all the time in the world for those things later on if things progressed. But for today, You were simply happy snuggling innocently with the boy who made you feel so safe, protected and cherished. Everything was perfect just as it was.

309 notes · View notes

dollypopup · 6 months ago

Text

Penelope treats Lady Whistledown as an identity

I think this is the reason why i have felt so displeased with it, and why so many people have instead resonated with it. Because Lady Whistledown is arguably the most polarizing aspect of this show, and certainly within Polin as a couple, and I believe it boils down to belief: Are you of the mindset that Lady Whistledown is WHAT Penelope DOES, or is it that Lady Whistledown is WHO Penelope IS?

and in recognizing which side of that line you fall on, I think it gives a lot of clarity as to how you feel about her as a character, and how happy or unhappy you are with the ending of Season 3

If you view Lady Whistledown as who Penelope is, that makes it an intrinsic part of her identity. She is a woman, she is a Lady of the Ton, she is a Featherington, she is straight, she is Lady Whistledown. It forms the fabric of her existence, and as such, to release Lady Whistledown is to give up a part of who she is. In the same way my giving up my love for women as a queer woman would be a denial of who *I* am.

However, if you view Lady Whistledown as what Penelope does, then the idea of her giving it up is considerably less dramatic than that. It does not make up her existence, but is a portion of the embroidery that embellishes her as a person. Losing that thread does not compromise the fabric of you, if we want to keep the metaphor. She is a straight woman, a Lady of the Ton, a Featherington, and she WRITES Lady Whistledown, is much different of an identity breakdown.

And I argue that the show should have treated it as such. For many people, they view Lady Whistledown as a direct correspondence with being a writer, but I don't think it is. I think viewing it just as a career is a bit of a disservice, so bare with the comparisons, but claiming being a teacher as an identity and claiming being a third grade math teacher are two completely different beasts. Because then it behooves the question: who are you if you change a grade level? Are you not still a teacher?

Let's take this a step farther, because creatives often see their art as being an intrinsic part of who they are, and not just a career. I know I do. Being a writer and a musician IS a part of my identity, but being a fantasy or a poetry or a spoken word writer is NOT. Because it becomes stifling and limited. 'I'm an author/writer' is an identity, 'I'm a fantasy author' is a specification. Are you not still a musician if you change from piano to trumpet? Are you not still an author if you change from poetry to short stories?

And I think this is where the real disappointment in Bridgerton for me came in. They put Penelope in a box, and told her there was no room for her outside of the walls they planted. And a box can be a comfort, a house turned home, but it can also be a prison. When Penelope told Colin that she could not compromise who she is, and that he would not understand because he is a man, and thus could be anyone he wanted to be- I had to ask. . .why do we view her as being right, here? Would it not have been considerably more radical and beautiful if she came to the realization that viewing herself as Lady Whistledown strangled her growth and creativity? Lady Delecroix spoke of the joy she received in making beautiful clothes for the ladies of her community, but she did not constrict herself into only finding happiness in making wedding dresses, or lingerie, or pelisses. Why push Penelope into a corner and claim it freedom?

To be an author IS an identity. To be a writer is. I won't deny that. But as Penelope came to the understanding that Lady Whistledown IS her, I wish she also came to the understanding that Lady Whistledown is not the EXTENT of her. In truth, I think Colin was right to ask her to give it up, not only for the lack of safety it provided, but predominately because it is not a place of healing and happiness for her. Lady Whistledown grew from Penelope's feelings of being unheard, and it feels as though the show itself did not listen to her.

If you view Lady Whistledown as WHO Penelope IS, then the idea of compromising with her husband on it is asinine. But if you view Lady Whistledown as an aspect of what Penelope does, Colin's pain and desire to see it go to the wayside make a lot more sense: at no point in their relationship did he ever ask her to stop writing. In fact, Colin *loves* Penelope's writing. He has praised it more directly and openly than anyone else has.

Because he has always loved her letters. Colin knew Penelope was who wrote them, and he spoke of how he looked forward to them, and how well written they are. I think, in part, that made it easier for him to forgive her for having read his journal. She'd been gentle with his writing in the past, and that makes it easier for him to open up to her in that sense, as well.

But Lady Whistledown had been cruel. Call it justified or otherwise, call it true or otherwise, but he never asked for her brutal honesty. No one did. Colin asked for Penelope's empathetic honesty, her clever honesty, her poignant honesty. That article she wrote of him at the start of the season was one even SHE disparaged. Colin was not wrong for telling Penelope that he couldn't accept that she was Lady Whistledown, because to him, it is not her identity. It is her craft, yes, but it is not HER, not to him, not until the end.

The problem with this season's ending is that it lacked nuance. It wanted to wrap up in a neat and tidy bow all the complexities of these characters, and I feel it did them a disservice in doing so. Because you could truly argue that, in a way, Lady Whistledown IS Penelope and is ALSO what Penelope does. But in doing so, you would have to acknowledge that Lady Whistledown is a source of pain and a weapon Penelope has wielded, and that intertwined with her very deeply, and that she has to heal from it. What's so frustrating is that, whilst she puts to bed Lady Whistledown as a name, she does not put to bed the gossip she spreads.

And we as a fandom have seen the negative impacts of gossip in our own communities. Just look at how cruel people have been to the actors of this show through petty drama and gossip. Now consider Penelope as the facilitator of such. Lady Whistledown as an identity then changes to Gossiper as an identity, and then latches onto the truer identity of Writer to grant it legitimacy.

I think what the show has done in having Penelope own up to being Lady Whistledown, and then cling on with an iron fist, is a true disservice to her growth. But it was one of the only ways people could easily forgive her. Because in saying 'This is WHO I am' it is an absolvement: there is no blame in being who are. However, saying 'This is what I've done' ensures there is agency in your actions, and thus blame. The show could not hold Penelope accountable to the pains she has orchestrated, and she HAS orchestrated it, so they had to wave it away. Sure, you can argue that she caused a lot of good, but lying to your friends, airing out their secrets, and trash talking them to your entire community is not a painless action. But if these are byproducts of who you are, there is no justification in feeling that hurt. For example, being upset your partner broke up your marriage is valid! Being upset your partner broke up your marriage because they realized they were attracted to a different gender. . .less so.

Penelope treats Lady Whistledown as an identity, because the show thought that was the only way she could be forgiven. But it isn't. Colin could commit acts that harmed others, apologize for them, and be forgiven. Anthony could commit acts that harmed others, apologize for them, and be forgiven.

But this show, through wanting to appeal to a female gaze, also treats us as lesser than. Penelope fucked up. She says so herself. But when it comes time to change, instead of treating her equally, the show says she does not have to. She does not have agency in her actions. It is simply WHO she is.

And that's just not satisfying to me.

#polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton #i've been wondering why this show's ending felt so sexist to me and i think i finally get it

91 notes · View notes

imaginesandbandfiction · 11 months ago

Text

Triad Part 7 — Trouble in Paradise

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

A/N: MFW the silly little smut drabble series I started over winter break starts developing a plot :o

Lmaooo I should have seen this coming. Be patient with me, I'm in a creative writing MFA program so fanfic isn't my priority rn but this series is begging to be written so I'm going to follow those vibes as far as they take me, just bear with me if updates are sporadic.

Click here to be added to the taglist so you never miss an update!

Warnings: Angst, some smut

Of course, there’s a learning curve that comes with a Triad Bond. Sex is the easy part—being in a relationship with two bullheaded Illyrian males is more complicated.

Rhys tried his best not to send any of you on solo missions but, inevitably, something came up and Azriel had to go undercover in the Court of Nightmares. It’s a top-secret mission and he has to block you and Cassian out the entire time he’s there, lest someone learn the true reason for his visit.

And… it was a lot easier to be a spy without two mates waiting for him back home. His mental shields are ironclad, trapping all the frustration and sadness behind closed doors, but it seeps out in other ways. His shadows are way more vicious than they normally are and, after long days spent playing nice with Keir and his cronies, as soon as his bedroom door locks behind him, he fists his cock in quick strokes. It takes a matter of minutes for him to spill himself into the mattress with how pent-up he is.

Things aren’t much better in Velaris. Sure, you and Cas have each other, but the bond hates the dark hole where Az should be and no matter how hard you try to soothe the ache, it never goes away.

Cassian throws himself into training; on days he doesn’t have other work to do, he flies out to Windhaven and spends the day beating the shit out of anyone who dares challenge him. When he comes home late at night, you patch him up with soft, delicate touches and hold him until his tears dry up.

Sex isn’t the same without Azriel there, either. You try to hold out; it feels wrong without him, but everything boils over a week into his absence.

Cassian spent the day in Windhaven, again, and you wait up with a book and a cup of tea but it’s morning when he slams through the door drenched in blood and reeking like the mixed-together contents of a liquor cabinet.

“Cas?” You mumble, lifting your head off the couch cushion and rubbing your eyes as you push yourself into a sitting position. He stomps past you into the bedroom and you hear the water running as he fills the bath. Stifling a yawn, you push through the nausea swirling in your gut and follow him on your tiptoes.

When you push the washroom door open, you see his broad shoulders bent over the edge of the half-filled tub, bloodied and shaking with the force of his sobs.

You surge forward and fall to your knees next to him, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” you whisper, rubbing his back. His head drops to your chest and you feel his rumbling anger in your soul.

Y/N? It’s Rhys’ voice in your head, tentative and sheepish. Is he okay?

No, you snarl back, immediately feeling guilt for the harshness of your words. But Ariel is gone, Cassian is broken, and your heart is torn in two. You force yourself to be gentler as you ask: Is there something I should know?

Rhys hesitates. Devlon called me in to fetch him this morning and… it wasn’t pretty. I’ll send word to Madja and tell her you’re going to be out for a few days.

Before you can protest, he continues. I know you’ve been working overtime. You’re running yourself ragged, Y/N. You need a break just as much as he does.

Rhysand cuts off the mental connection in the middle of your indignant huff, but the gears in your mind are turning. Instead of turning to each other in Az’s absence, you’ve been burying yourselves in solitude and work. Clearly, something has to change.

You loosen the strip of leather holding Cas’s hair up and sprinkle deep purple healing magic into it as you run your fingers through his thick locks. It’s just enough to calm him down, sobs tapering off into shuddering breaths.

“Cas?” You ask when he finally stills, slumping boneless against you. “Whose blood is this?”

He tilts his head back, guilt filling in every line on his face, and your heart clenches. No wonder Rhys offered to talk to Madja for you; he probably needed her to fix whatever damage Cassian’s misplaced anger had caused.

“‘M sorry,” Cas whispers, burying his face in your neck again. “I didn’t mean to, I just…”

“Shhh,” you shushed him, curling one arm to cradle his head. “I know you didn’t, baby. Rhys does too. This is new territory for all of us, and there were bound to be some kinks to work out.” Cas nods against you and you squeeze him as tight as you can, channeling love and healing magic through the bond. Behind you, the tub is full of steamy hot water, so you wave your hand to get rid of Cas’s clothes and help him into the bath.

When he’s settled, you shed your nightgown and get in with him. He rests his head against the side of the tub and lets you run a bar of soap over the planes of his muscles, healing bruises and scrapes as you find them.

"Thank you," he whispers once you’ve finished. He reaches one hand out and pulls you against his chest without opening his eyes.

The bond settles as much as it can without a third anchor to tether itself to. You lay there, basking in the soft glow of your mingling magic, until suddenly Cassian stands up, pushing you off him.

“Sorry,” he grunts when you fall forward, splashing into the water. “I just…” You follow his gesturing hand down the V of his hips and the problem stares out at you—long, thick, and hard. “I dunno, it feels wrong without Az.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, torn between the mouth-watering sight of him on display, just inches from your face, and the guilt bubbling up inside you. In the end, the bond makes the decision for you, practically shoving you forward to pull Cas’s cock in between your lips.

His protests are dead on arrival; you don’t even hear them, too focused on pouring all your pent-up sexual frustration out onto him.

After just a few minutes, his hips are bucking wildly and he forces himself to pull back. You look up at him with wide eyes and saliva dripping down your chin, and he growls, tugging you out of the tub so he can shove you against the wall. He drops to his knees and drapes one of your legs over his shoulder, devouring you like a man starved.

With no patience left for teasing, he fucks you with his tongue, plunging deep into your core until you’re writhing against him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, tumbles out of your head and into his as the pleasure builds and builds.

That's it, baby, he sends back down the bond, digging into your sweet spot with one of his fingers. Let go for me.

Your body follows his command, the tightly wound coil inside of you snapping as soon as you have permission. He grins against you as you fuck his face, riding out your high.

As soon as he pulls away, he’s got his hands under your ass, hauling you up into his arms as he presses his cock into your slick folds. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as your head drops back against the wall.

It’s quick and dirty. Without Azriel there to force you to slow down and savor each other, you’re teetering on the edge of a second orgasm before you’ve fully recovered from the first. Cassian’s thrusts grow sloppier and you feel through the bond that his release is looming.

When he ducks his head to pull one of your nipples between his teeth, both of you lose the last of your self-control. Cas drives his hips into you and fills you up, tipping you over the cliff. You clench your walls around him as your release comes gushing out.

Meanwhile, in one of the training rooms under the mountain, a wave of something washes over Az as he’s running through drills against a training dummy with Truth Teller. At first, he thinks it’s nausea and regrets not stopping by the kitchens to grab a bite earlier, but the ache is too low to be coming from his stomach.

When he reaches one gloved hand to palm himself through his leathers, he’s shocked to find his cock solid and straining against the fabric. He thanks the Mother that he’s training alone today and makes quick work of it.

Three weeks into Az’s mission, Mor heads under the mountain to check on him under the guise of visiting her father. She enters the dining room and immediately realizes that something is wrong. There’s a woman sitting to Kier’s right, and Az is on her other side. His shadows nip at Mor’s toes like she’s the enemy as she takes her seat on her father’s left.

He refuses to speak to her, but when they make eye contact during dessert, his eyes are dark and stormy, filled with shadows of their own.

When she retires to her room later that night, she reports back to Rhys who orders her to pull Az out as soon as she can.

Despite the fact that they haven’t slept together in decades, it’s easy to slip back into old habits. The next morning at breakfast, she lays it on thick. By dinner time, her father merely waves them off when she requests the Shadowsinger for her own personal reasons.

“Go on then,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. “I’ll let the High Lord know when I require your presence next.”

As soon as they’ve both gathered their belongings, Mor winnows them away. When his feet touch solid ground, Az shoves her away with a snarl. His shadows surge forward to cushion her back and prevent her from falling; even blinded by his anger, he doesn't want to hurt her.

“What the fuck,” he growls. “I wasn’t done!”

“I have orders to pull you out of there. Rhys thinks you’ve gone in too deep.” Az growls like a feral animal being forced into a cage.

“Rhysand needs me in there now more than ever. Something’s happening, Mor. Something big, and I was working my way in, I—“

Mor cuts him off, holding a hand up to silence him.

“You think I don’t know that? Whether I like it or not, that’s my father. I know something’s up, but Rhys needs you in there, Azriel. And you’re not you right now. You’re cold and ruthless, not thinking clearly after too much time away from your mates.”

Az deflates and drops onto the sofa behind him. It’s the worn old leather one in Rhys’s mother’s cottage, in Windhaven. Mor sits down next to him, rubbing a hand across his shoulders, careful to avoid brushing against his wings which are rigid and full of tension.

“It’s not your sole responsibility to save the world, Az. You’re an excellent spy, but you’re more than that, too. Don’t let the tunnel vision take over.”

Az drops his head into his hands, letting out all of the air in his lungs with one deep sigh. He knows she’s right, that the bond should be a strength and not a weakness, but he’s terrified that something will happen to his mates. He couldn’t risk it, not when he was down there.

But that wasn’t his decision to make alone. The more he fought against the bond, the more it fought back, rattling his brain and tugging at every one of his senses. The effort to keep it bottled up drained his energy until all he could see was the mission, his purpose. Gathering information about the woman, Amarantha, became the most important thing in his life.

So he feels like a bit of an asshole when he turns up on your doorstep with his rucksack slung over one shoulder and only a faint shimmer of the bond left flickering inside his chest. It’s not enough to keep him tethered to the two of you, so he has no idea how you're feeling, but he forces himself to knock on the door, anyway.

“Hi,” you whisper, letting your arm drop from the doorknob to your side. On your end, the bond bursts into bright golden flames that shoot down, making a beeline for Azriel.

It tugs at Cas’s side, too, and then his head pops up behind your shoulder.

“Hi,” he says, flashing the dopiest grin that Azriel has ever seen.

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @hnyclover

196 notes · View notes