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deadghosy · 11 months ago

Note

Since your stuck I decided to help you out with the power of creativity!

How would characters of Hazbin Hotel react to Swan/Duck reader it's branching from penguin reader with how she got stuck in hell for a while

The power mainly focuses on them flying and wind magic ect!

REMINDER: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X DUCK! READER

Warning: yandere themes.

prompt: a common mistake made your life eventual as people started to fawn over you

You were supposed to be in heaven…BUT NOOOO, they sent you to hell because they mistook you for someone else. They could’ve just said they were full like a night club…

So now you are in a pond swimming around peacefully. But there’s always a man with a hat and an apple cane that comes to see you literally everyday. You don’t know who he is, but he got attached badly. He would bring bread and show you rubber ducks with an awkward smile.

You just go over to him and eat the bread. You never learned how to talk since birth since your mother abused you. Being jealous of your pure soul and natural beauty. She always told you to shush. Making the sour taste in your mouth sting to never talk.

Eventually the man introduced himself as Lucifer, that’s when it hit you that this man was the first fallen angel, and king of hell. He must have seen your eyes widen in shock. “You can understand me?” He asked you as he scratched under your beak making you lean in his touch. You nodded as he smiles showing his sharp teeth.

“That’s even bettter.” He said

Two days after that, you were literally sleeping when you woke up to feel two hands pick you up, it was Lucifer who cooed at your drowsy face as he takes you to a hotel. Were you finally getting a place to stay instead of outside?

“Listen, my daughter has a dream…to redeem sinners…I wanna believe in her, but our people chose to make hell this way.” He says with a somber look. He took you inside to see basically a female version of Lucifer but more cheery looking as she gasped at you. “Dad? Is that the duck you’ve been talking about?! Aww they’re soooo cute!” She says as she holds you.

And that’s your story of how now you are basically part of the hotel’s family.

I imagine you just getting prince/princess treatment everyday from the hotel and Lucifer himself as he literally trims your duck fur as you just sit there on a fancy ass pillow.

I headcannon that angel dust buys you shades a lot because your yellow/white feathers is so majestic, he just had to make you even more bad ass.

Angel dust loves how high headed you are, not letting anyone tear you down even with a word. He admires you, so he wants you to admire him as well.

I headcannon for you to deadass have an attitude when bothered. Literally Alastor wanted to see what was so special about you. And so he woke you up from your beauty sleep making you go haywire on him.

You pecked him as he tried to hit you, possibly trying to injure you only to injure himself as he came out pissed off with a smile. He definitely spit out a feather as you quacked out a laugh as if this shit was looney tunes.

Charlie always rants to you about her days and how her and vaggie’s relationship is going. Charlie was notified by her father that you can understand her. She doubted it at first, but when you actually nodded she gasped shocked with stars in her eyes.

You and Charlie grew close…to the point she was almost like her father. Constantly checking up on you, feeding you. Watching you. You tried to push it off…but it was kinda unsettling.

You could obviously fly, which you do around the hotel to spread your wings. But when you fly you have a glowing yellow light around you.

I can see you just chilling at the bar as residents come in and out as you just get petted as husk grumbles a little and also pets you. Husk was immediately enchanted by your soft duck feathers

You love to make small tornados at sinners who cause trouble in the hotel. You are the hotel’s duck, so you must at least protect the guests at least.

Vaggie is the one to always make sure to research what ducks eat before making sure you can eat them. She likes how you make everyone feel fuzzy and warm inside. Even her.

You damn well hated that you died into a duck body..but it felt nice knowing that you couldn’t just live the possible human or at least whatever you are. Demon or angel. You could possibly be in a pond sleeping and eating bread all damn day.

I imagine Sir Pentious had put a top hat on you that’s similar like the ones his egg boiz wear. So he loves to have you around when he builds things.

You doze off like this and it’s so cute to the point they will record and take a picture of you. (If you don’t wanna click link, it’s a duck nodding its head off until it goes limp since the duck is tired)

I headcannon Alastor to hate you at first and want to cook you for duck stew, but then he falls in love with how entertaining and smart you are. You technically aren’t just a mere duck.

I can see you just making small hurricanes in your bath tub when niffty has to wash you. You once accidentally splashed her. But she chuckled splashing you.

A sinner once tried to take you from the hotel’s pond that Lucifer made for you only be found 30 secs later taking you.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TOUCHING MY DUCKLING?!” Lucifer yells angrily at the sinner who got knocked flat on their ass. His demon form was coming out as fire spits out his mouth when he huffed.

You did a comedic side eye at Lucifer who was acting possessive as hell itself. You didn’t even know what to do as this man kept holding you like a pet duck you seen fat white men do in the streets.

The sinner didn’t live after that.

I can see husk just petting you softly and then eventually just falling asleep on your body. Like his head is on your body as you just watch hell tv as he snores. Oddly comfortable in your soft feathers.

You literally waddle around the hotel wearing a cute scarf with your favorite color. Alastor oddly knitted it for you like a old grandma to their grandchild 😭

I imagine you just side eyeing Lucifer as he suddenly had the urge to read more information about ducks and how their eggs look. So imagine how Lucifer would act if you pregnant. But the thing is, you rather die then be in pain in birth.

Lucifer makes you a lot of blue things to remind you of a pond since that was the place you chill in a lot. It was to the poke Charlie and Lucifer nodded to make you a pond in the backside of the hotel. It’s your little chill haven.

You felt pissy one day because your feathers were molting..so the wind outside was heavy cause your feathers were just falling and you hated it. You felt insecure but the crew felt your feelings and started to cheer you up. Soon or later, your new feathers came back quickly.

The Vee’s had definitely notice your presence since you first came here. I mean who the hell looks like a damn duck down here with pure beautiful feathers that remind them of so called heaven.

I can see the Vee’s and you having the relationship where it’s basically like team rocket and pikachu type troupe. 😭 they always fail trying to kidnap you because you literally put out ducks that look like you and they fall for it, EVERY SINGLE TIME-

I headcannon you have a ribbon your favorite color wrapped around your neck like a bow or collar with your name on it❤️

Vox had literally set his drone to spy on you as he watches with a sick grin at how adorable and elegant you looked just swimming in your sweet pond and how you just outsmart Alastor.

Imagine how badass you are to suddenly turn big in size because the hotel was being threatened. So you literally grew in a size of the hotel building and flapped your wings to fly them bitches to who knows nowhere.

If you were on the same branch, you would definitely be the older sister of penguin! Reader if it was lore type shit 😭 you don’t play no games about your emotions as you are always observing

LOL IMAGINE YOU WADDLING TO GO TO THE BATHROOM LIKE A HUMAN AND THE EGG BOIZ JUST FOLLOW AFTER YOU AS IF YOU WERE THEIR MOTHER-

The Vee’s definitely sneak on you by Vox’s drone that swarms around your pond without your knowledge.

Velvette literally sends you nice outfits your size. Literally cute outfits where the holes are for your wings so you can fly and look drippy as hell.

See I could definitely imagine you sneaking out the hotel to just get hooked up with your new outfit stylist which is Velvette now.

Vox

Imagine how cold the state duck! Reader has (hear me out, edit audio type shit starts playing-)

I can see you just swimming and Lucifer takes a picture of you, admiring your beauty in place as you just flock around your damn pond. “That’s my baby….” He says wiping a dramatic tear from his eyes.

Valentino. Now I won’t say he would be obsessed romantically but more platonically as he would love for you to be part of his life as his pet only. Like an actual pet he would take care of.

I headcannon Alastor actually tried to feed you some bread…and you accepted it making Alastor smile wildly at how you trusted him getting close to you for one.

Lmao you literally did some Wingardium Leviosa ass shit on someone because you didn’t like how they looked at you 😭

You literally are so coddled and spoiled…it was to the point you would be walking or more like waddling down the damn streets alone and people would aw at your beauty and gracious. It’s overwhelming, but at least you know people won’t fuck with you.

But people just never learnt to keep their hands off of a beautiful creature.

Once Adam got sent down to find an angel that was suppose to be in heaven. He didn’t except for you to be a fuckin duck. So he laughed and took you up with ease as you quacked furiously, trying to get at least someone’s attention.

It was too late as Lucifer sees you get flown up into the heaven portal. Lucifer dropped the tray of lemonade in shock to see his beloved flying into the portal. Lucifer felt his heart squeeze knowing that the bastard knew he couldn’t get into heaven.

Lucifer quickly spout out his wings and fly sharply towards adam’s fading figure. Adam snickers seeing Lucifer’s anger in his glowing red eyes. He turned around and waved you around to taunt Lucifer as you had a “I don’t have time for this…” face. Literally you pecked Adam’s face and hands making Adam spazz out and throw you at Lucifer’s face.

“FINE! TAKE YOUR DUMB ASS DUCK!” Adam yells as he flies off grumbling about making you into duck stew

So Lucifer was happy with a derpy expression and calmed down holding you. He got even more protective as he makes sure you are watched 24/7. He wanted to give you freedom…but after that stunt Adam did. He’s not letting anyone touch you without his permission. Of course his daughter can though!

But what if Adam had succeeded in his capture of you, things would be most likely how it was in hell….just more clean and healthy.

St. Peter definitely greeted you with a warm smile as you didn’t….you didn’t like how he just sassed you and let you fall to hell. So of course it was rocky, but soon or later you two got along since he brides you with bread. He soon gets obsessed with how you get so trusting over things. He uses that to his advantages.

Sera greets you with open arms, literally as she picks you up. Cooing at your pure yellow/white feathers that matches the aesthetic of heaven. You match perfectly here as your angel form is two pair of wings. Your normal duck wings and angel wings. You are the most beautiful angel she ever met and laid eyes on as she shows you around heaven. Every part and area of it. This shall be your new home.

Emily won’t be a crazyyy person over you. As I can see her being a light hearted person who doesn’t love bomb you in a manipulative manner but only wants to be your friend in a loving way. She finds you amazing at how smart and caring you are towards her as you visit her and she visits you back. She brings you every bread know to man and heaven as she noticed you like bread. You and her are clearly amazing friends to each other.

The Angels adore your every movement as if you were also a god/godesss. You were confused at this attention. It was way more overwhelming when you were in hell with the others. Just like how the penguin! Reader was, you made a social media account and half of heaven followed you. It was an insane amount of followers that you didn’t mean to have. But the angels love to greet you as you fly/walk by. With you being so graceful here, who wouldn’t say you belonged here.

Adam most definitely is possessive and always manipulates you into thinking he is superior. He forces himself to be your caretaker, he literally makes you stay in his place all day and all time watched over. He feels the need to control your very bidding and movement as this dickhead degrades you to make you feel useless. It sometimes works, but sometimes doesn’t.

Lute is a controlling person who sees your intelligence as a threat as she wants to break you into her clasp. She’s the second most controlling than Adam. But she’s an overwhelming controlling as she wants you you to see her as your protector and person you can be dependent on at all times. She wants you to be able to tell her everything you know so she can just please you.

Adam finds it amusing at how you got use it heaven so quick despite this new attention. You literally sit on his lap napping as he lounges on the couch. Basically watching sports or whatever.

You can’t help but think, “why am I even surprised.”

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propertyofwicked · 6 months ago

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SCANDALOUS - OP

summary - in which oscar discovers what type of books his girlfriend is actually reading

warnings: 18+ allusions to smut, but mostly fluff

this is my first oscar piece and i am considering a part 2! lemme know what you think! <3 (also sorry for disappearing my life has been all over the place)

masterlist the playlist

as they arrived at the silverstone track, oscar and y/n could feel the palpable anticipation in the air. navigating through the crowds was something y/n could only compare to her idea of personal hell. people everywhere, sporting the bright colours of different teams, people approaching the two of them, holding out hats and phones for oscar to sign. if this was friday, y/n hated to think what the rest of the weekend would be like - hopefully she could arrive later than oscar and avoid the hustle and bustle.

"are you going to be okay here?" oscar asked softly, concern evident in his eyes, as he led the two of them into mclaren hospitality. he wasn’t blind, if anything he could read her emotions better than he could read his own - he knew she was overwhelmed, but not quite at breaking point.

"yeah, i've got my book and headphones,” y/n replied, patting her bag quickly, “i'll find a quiet spot,” she added with a nod, giving him a reassuring smile.

“i’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” he asked her again, holding her wrists softly in his hands.

“i’ll be here,” she replied, still smiling as she stepped up onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips.

y/n watched as oscar left, before turning on her heel and trying to find a cosy corner, tucked away from the commotion where she could read her book in peace. and as she sat with her back to the wall, she couldn’t help but feel grateful that no one could walk behind her and glimpse at what she was reading. her flushed cheeks may slightly give it away to anyone who recognised the book, but as she flipped through the pages she was met with nothing but pure, indulgent smut. it was a guilty pleasure that she seldom admitted to enjoying, and whilst she was more than content with oscar, she was too shy to admit she’d want him to do more than half of the acts she reads about.

maybe next time, she should bring a murder mystery book with her, instead of reading 82 pages of unforgiving sex scenes that are described in such detail that she could almost imagine how oscar would recreate it beautifully - yeah, maybe not the right thing to be reading at your boyfriend’s place of work.

“hi,” a voice interrupted, causing y/n to jump quickly as she looked up to see one of the hospitality staff stood in front of her, “i was just wondering if we would be able to steal this chair? i can find you somewhere else to sit - it’s just a guest would like to sit here.”

“of course,” y/n replied, smiling up at the nervous girl before moving to shove everything back into her bag, “i probably should go on a walk anyways.”

“thank you so much, and sorry for making you move - the guest is a sponsor, so they expect us to move heaven and earth to accommodate them,” the employee added with a grin.

“i understand,” y/n replied, laughing lightly as she stood, “your hair is so beautiful by the way.”

“thank you,” the girl smiled, blushing at the compliment.

oscar had been engrossed with his team, discussing strategy and making adjustments for the practice session, when he realised it had been several hours since he’d seen his girlfriend. and once the practice session had finally ended, with a full team debrief, he made it his mission to find her.

"have you seen y/n around?" oscar inquired casually, glancing over at lando who had walked into hospitality with him.

"yeah, she was sitting in the corner over there," lando chuckled, gesturing towards the quieter section of the hospitality area, “….but she’s not there anymore,” he added, trailing off as he noticed the empty chair.

"thanks mate, glad you’ve still got those keen observational skills," oscar replied sarcastically, “don’t know what i’d do without you around.”

“hey! i was just telling you where i last saw her!” lando defended, holding his hands up, ”she’s probably in a quiet corner somewhere, reading that book. she’s probably the only person that didn’t notice i’d even walked in earlier ‘cos she was nose deep in it.”

“sounds about right,” oscar hummed, pulling his phone out to shoot her a quick where are you text.

sure enough, oscar found y/n in a quieter corner, still engrossed in her book. he approached her quietly and gently tapped her shoulder. y/n looked up, removing her headphones and quickly closing the pages before smiling warmly at him.

"hey there, lost track of time?" oscar asked, sitting down beside her, pulling his legs up to his chest as his back leant on the wall.

y/n nodded, "yeah, i guess i did. how was practice?"

"pretty good," oscar replied, "we made some solid improvements. what about you? what are you reading?"

y/n hesitated for a moment, a flicker of defensiveness crossing her expression. "oh, it's just a book. nothing special."

oscar raised an eyebrow, sensing her reluctance to share. "come on, it can't be that bad. is it some secret spy novel or something?"

y/n chuckled nervously. "no, nothing like that. just... personal. i'll tell you about it later, maybe."

"alright, fair enough," he replied, "ready to head back to the hotel?"

y/n sighed with relief. "yes please.”

“that bored, huh?” he asked as he stood, extending his arms to help pull her from the floor.

“not bored, just-”

“overwhelmed? hungry? eager to see me after a shower?”

“always.”

“good to know,” he added, draping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "you know, you're quite the mystery sometimes," he teased gently as they began to walk to the car.

"keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" y/n smirked, “no fun in being predictable.”

they arrived at the hotel room, and as they settled in, the atmosphere relaxed. y/n flopped down on the bed, and oscar joined her, laying his entire body on top of hers, her hands moving to stroke along his back softly.

"so, how's the book?" oscar asked again, with a playful glint in his eye.

y/n rolled her eyes playfully but couldn't suppress a smile. "it's good. maybe i'll let you read it someday."

"wow, such a privilege!" oscar feigned shock, “but how would i ever repay you for such an offer.”

"don't push your luck, piastri,” she replied, her arms grabbing his sides in attempt to push him off. he laughed, rolling to the side to lay next to her.

"alright, alright. i won't push. but seriously, thanks for coming with me today. it means a lot."

y/n's expression softened. "of course. i wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

oscar leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "i'm lucky to have you, you know that?"

y/n's eyes sparkled with affection. "i think we're both pretty lucky."

“i’d be even luckier if you let me read that book of yours,” he grinned.

"you're ridiculous.”

"only for you," he replied with a grin, his arm reaching across her waist for his fingers to draw circles into the skin of her stomach. his head dipped, trailing kissed along her clothed shoulder, until he was resting on his arm, hovering over her slightly, his lips finding their way to the skin of her neck.

“please,” he whispered, kissing along her jaw.

“fine,” y/n replied with a loud huff, pushing herself up from the bed to retrieve the book from her bag. oscar remained on the bed, resting on his side and using his arm to hold his head up as his eyes followed her across the room.

she launched the book at him, watching as it landed just shy of his stomach.

“come and join me,” he beckoned, shuffling himself up the bed, book in hand.

“i’d rather stand here, actually.”

“ok weirdo.”

the room fell to a silence as oscar opened the book, choosing to open at a page in the middle.

“why is this all highlighte- oh. OH. oh wow,” he spoke aloud, grimacing slightly in between raising his eyebrows at the literature, “this is - is that even possible? how has he got her leg up there?”

“you can stop now,” y/n begged, climbing on the bed and stretching over in attempt to snatch the book from his hands.

“no, i don’t think i will,” he teased, raising the book above his head, though at an angle where he could still read it, “ ‘…..he said, grabbing my other leg and placing them both behind his head’ - this girl is flexible jesus.”

“oscar piastri you give me that book right now.”

“ok! ok!” he said defensively, “….on one condition.”

“…what?” y/n responded cautiously, noticing the way he smirked at her.

“you tell me, is this something you wanna try?” he asked, “the things in this book? is that what you want?”

“minus the kidnapping part….maybe?” she replied, fiddling with her fingers.

“maybe, huh?” he teased, placing the book to his side before grabbing her waist to pull her into him. y/n straddled his lap, though desperately tried to look anywhere but his face, desperate to hide the flush of her cheeks, only worsened by looking in his eyes.

“honestly, i just wanna know if im that flexible,” she replied with a laugh, still playing anxiously with her fingers whilst trying to fight against her own awkwardness.

“i know you can get at least one leg up there,” oscar joked, fingers tickling at her sides playfully, “although, you’re not very good at twister.”

“we have played twister ONCE. and i was drunk. you cannot hold that against me.”

“drunk or not, your foot was still dangerously close to going up my ass.”

“and yet no assholes were harmed.”

“speaking of.. does this book mention anyth-”

“if you think you are putting ANYTHING up there you are very much mistaken mr piastri,” y/n argued, holding his jaw in her hands to make her point clear.

“mr piastri? i prefer da-”

“NOPE! LA LA LA,” she interrupted, quickly covering her ears before he finished his sentence.

“im kidding, im kidding,” he laughed out breathlessly, holding on to her hips as his body shook with laughter, “so about this flexibility thing.”

“let me stretch first,” she told him, kissing his lips softly. y/n moved to climb off him, only half serious about stretching, but his hands stayed put on her waist, pulling her back into him. he kissed her again, a hand traveling up her body to rest on her jaw and he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping her bottom lip briefly.

“no need, i know a good way to get you warmed up,” he told her cheekily, his lips returning to her neck once more, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin below her ear.

“oh really?” she replied, her eyebrows raising at the suggestion, “please, go on. tell me more.”

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 #op81 #op81 x reader #op81 fluff #op81 smut #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #mclaren #propertyofwicked #lando norris #oscar piastri imagine

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wholoveseggs · 7 months ago

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Small Victories

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} After a tourney in which Daemon places second, he seeks solace from his loss and finds it in his little northern maid.

♡♡ Hello darlings! I'm branching out slightly and writing about a new character {Don't worry, I'm still writing Elijah} xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smutt, size!kink, rough sex, dom!daemon, slight choking, virgin!reader, northern!reader, servant!reader, pre-dance Daemon, huge power imbalance...

♡♡ Hey! I didn't tag anyone because I'm unsure if you want to read Daemon content. If you wish to be tagged in future Daemon let me know ♡♡

You didn't like the Red Keep, it was too grand for your liking. Even with all of the people in it you still felt alone. At night, you could hear voices echoing throughout the halls, sometimes they were singing or laughing and other times they were screaming or moaning.

You could never tell where the sounds were coming from, it gave the place an odd feeling of being haunted. Ghosts weren't something you put your faith in, but that didn't stop the hair from standing up on the back of your neck whenever you heard a strange sound.

If it was up to you, you wouldn't live here. You would be back in the little cottage you grew up in, far into the north and as far away from King's landing as you could possibly be. It was a funny contradiction, that such a grand place in a warm environment could feel so cold, while a small house in the cold north could feel so full of warmth.

The last thing your mother said to you, was that you should be grateful. That your place in the Red Keep was the highest honor your family could ever hope to receive, and that you should do anything to stay here. To be a lady's maid to the queen, was the highest achievement a low born could achieve.

You tried to be, even though your heart yearned for the snowy landscape of your childhood. You wanted to be happy, you were thankful, but you couldn't help the way you missed the north.

So to try and capture just a bit of personal freedom, you would walk the halls at night. It was the only time you could pretend to be somewhere else, even if it was only for a moment. You would close your eyes and imagine yourself somewhere new and exciting, and when you opened them you would be reminded of where you really were.

Tonight you were in a particularly adventurous mood, there was a tourney the next day for Prince Viserys and his wife Aemma to celebrate their wedding. The Red Keep would be full of guests and it would be loud and full of life, you were sure to be very busy, and so you decided to stay up late and postpone sleep for a few more hours.

There was a room in the library that had a view of the city, one you liked to frequent often. It had a large window and a balcony that was rarely used. It was a nice place to go to clear your mind and think about home.

When you entered, nobody was around except for a cat that was perched on the windowsill. She was a lovely thing with black fur and bright green eyes, the perfect color of a dark forest at night.

"Hello, beautiful." You greeted her with a smile and a light stroke along her back. You looked out the window with her at your side, watching the moon reflect off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on a man with a face that made you stand up straight and bow your head.

"Prince Daemon." You greeted him, not looking up from the floor.

"Young maidens like yourself shouldn't be out so late." He said, stepping closer to you. You didn't dare move or even breathe, his presence made you feel like you were caught doing something wrong.

"I couldn't sleep, my lord," You answered, not meeting his eyes. This was your first real meeting with the prince, but you knew the rumors that surrounded him.

He didn't respond to your answer, instead, he turned his attention towards the view. Leaning against the window, his posture was dismissive, as though you weren't there. He gave you a side glance that read, 'leave,' and so you did, not wanting to get in his way.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to intrude." You said, walking past him, heading towards the doorway.

"You are from the north," he spoke, still looking out into the water.

"Yes, my lord," You answered, stopping when he started speaking.

"How did you find yourself as a maid in the south?" He asked, looking at you, his eyes piercing through you.

The truth of the matter made you feel shameful, even though it was beyond your control. So you decided to tell him what you've been telling everyone.

"I was given as a gift for our new queen," You said, looking down at the floor.

"Is that what they call it?" Daemon laughed, his laugh was as harsh as his voice, the kind of laugh that could cut you open if you let it. "I heard you were given away as payment for a debt."

Your cheeks reddened and you looked at the ground, your throat closing up at the mention of your family's failure. Pride wasn't something you could afford anymore, but you couldn't stop the words that came out of your mouth.

"I didn't realize that princes were so fond of gossip." You said, meeting his eyes, your words were meant to cut, and they did.

He stood up straight, his expression unreadable as he closed the distance between the two of you, towering over you.

"Ahh, so they did sell you." He smirked, looking down at you. "Whoring can make you better coin… recover a debt quicker."

Your hands balled up into fists and you took a step closer, a defiant glare on your face.

He chuckled and tilted his head, he reached out and touched your chin, his hand was soft but firm as he turned your face to look at him.

"With a pretty face like yours, I'm sure you would make quite a bit of coin," His voice was a purr, a seductive growl that made your insides feel tight. "I could show you a better use for those lips."

His words were shockingly vulgar, his voice was rough and commanding and his eyes were hungry, but you didn't move away, you stayed still. You knew the dragon prince was a scandalous man, but you didn't think he would ever be so bold.

"There is no honor in a whore's coin." You answered, pushing his hand away from your face.

"Is there honor in emptying the queen's chamber pot?" He retorted, grinning slightly at how red your cheeks had become.

"Not all of us have the opportunity to choose what sort of honor we can acquire,” You said, standing your ground as best as you could.

He towered over you, his tall frame casting a shadow that almost completely covered you. He wasn't like the king or queen, who were kind and generous. There was something dark and malicious about him, as though the great beasts of his house lurked just below his skin, waiting to come out.

"You have a smart mouth, little northerner." He mused, his eyes drifting down to your lips. "It's a wonder that the queen has not put a gag in it."

"It's a poor quality I have yet to overcome." You responded, pulling away from him and putting some distance between the two of you.

He watched you move away, his eyes following your movements and the shape of your body, making you feel hot.

"I will think of you when I win the tourney tomorrow." He said, his tone smug and confident. "A sweet northern flower to bring back with me."

"You will be bringing back nothing, prince Daemon." You said, your voice a warning.

He laughed and looked at you, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"We'll see about that."

And with those final words, he left the room. You felt flustered and annoyed, a strange mixture of feelings that confused and angered you. You didn't like the prince, but he made your heart race, his voice and his eyes made you feel a strange sense of heat.

You wanted to be disgusted, and yet all you could think about was seeing him again.

It was a hectic morning, with all the knights and guests arriving, and you were late. Your tardiness had earned you a sharp reprimand from your head maid, but you were too distracted by the upcoming event to care.

The prospect of seeing the prince again was something you weren't sure you wanted, but couldn't stop thinking about.

You didn't like the way his eyes lingered on you, or how he made you feel things that shouldn't be felt. The rogue prince was indeed a fitting title, he was a scoundrel and a liar, a man of dishonor.

You thought that maybe he was the sort of person that the south created, perhaps they took people like you and turned them into someone like him. But then again, he wasn't really a southerner, no, he was a dragon.

The sound of cheers and laughter outside made your ears perk up. The queen was already seated with the other royals in their viewing box, and you were in a nearby tent, preparing more wine and food.

The tourney had just begun, and so far the knights had all performed well. You had only been paying a bit of attention, trying to do your job and keep out of the way.

The head maid was a cruel, vindictive woman, and she had been taking out her frustration on you all day. Her temper was short and her hands were rough, she was the kind of woman that would slap your hands or pull your hair if she was upset. But today she decided to simply make your life miserable with her words.

She gave you the worst jobs and the heaviest items to carry, and when she did allow you to stand and rest, she would hit your feet with her broom and tell you to get back to work.

"Once you are finished pouring wine, I want you to go to the prince's tent and serve him." She ordered, her eyes were sharp and her words were harsh.

"The prince has a squire to serve him." You protested, the idea of facing Daemon again made your cheeks turn red.

"The prince requested a woman's company,” She smiled, her eyes looking at you with an almost wicked satisfaction.

"I believe what the prince is looking for can be found on the street of silk, not among the ladies maids." You countered, hoping to change her mind.

"It's an honor to serve the prince, and he has specifically asked for a northern girl." The head maid was adamant, not willing to let this go.

You clenched your jaw and took a deep breath, biting your tongue as you looked at the floor.

"Very well, madam."

You held back tears as you climbed the stairs to the viewing box, pouring wine into the cups. Keeping your eyes low and only lifting them when absolutely necessary as you made your way down the line of royals.

Everyone began to stir and chat as the final round was announced. You turned to face the arena, watching as the prince mounted his horse, the sight of him made your heart flutter.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that, his long blonde hair was braided and tied back, and his purple eyes were focused and determined.

His horse was a massive stallion, black as night, and he rode him as though they were one. He moved with a grace and confidence that was captivating.

The final round began, the two men charging at each other. You were nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect.

The clash of steel was the only sound in the air, it echoed throughout the entire arena. The crowd was silent, their eyes locked on the scene before them.

The two men passed each other, once, twice, three times. The tension building with each near miss, until finally the two knights clashed again.

Daemon's opponent had a slight edge over him, being bigger and stronger, but Daemon was quicker. But on the fourth pass, his opponent managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying into the dirt.

The crowd gasped, their hands covering their mouths as the prince's horse bucked and ran, leaving him in the dust.

You winced at the sight, it wasn't a good fall. He landed on his back, hard, and he lay still for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he caught his breath.

Only when the head maid cleared her throat did you realize you had been holding your breath.

"You are needed in the prince's tent, girl." she commanded, grabbing the jug from your hands and giving you a stern look.

You nodded, taking the tray of food and wine from the table and heading out of the box. Your heart was racing and your palms were sweaty, the thought of seeing Daemon after such a public humiliation was not something you were looking forward to.

The air was alive with the roar of the people, and the thumping of their feet sounded like thunder. They were chanting for the champion, something that would surely upset Daemon even more.

When you got to his tent, you hesitated, taking a moment to calm your nerves. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the noise of the crowd fade away.

You stepped inside, finding him sitting in a chair, his shirt was off and his squire was cleaning a nasty gash on his arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Prince Daemon." You said, placing the tray of food on the table and pouring a cup of wine.

"Leave," he barked at his squire, his voice was gruff and his jaw was clenched.

"But my prince-" his squire protested, looking up from the wound he was treating.

"Now."

The boy left quickly, leaving you alone with the brooding prince.

"Would you like some wine, my lord?" You asked, your voice soft and timid, the last thing you wanted was to make him even more upset.

"No," he hissed, his voice sharp as a knife. "Bring me a new shirt."

You did as he asked, walking over to the large chest in the corner. It was full of clothes, the colors and fabrics were fine and beautiful. You selected a clean white shirt and brought it over to him, your eyes focused on the ground.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice was quiet, but it was a demand, not a request.

You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were cold, the same shade of violet that had captivated you was now a glare.

You did very well, my lord," You tried to reassure him, your voice soft and comforting.

"Is that meant to be comforting?" He asked, his tone was harsh and his expression was a scowl.

"Fine. I have never seen a worse display than the one you put on today," you said, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, then laughed, his shoulders shaking as his amusement grew. Only his brother the king would ever talk to him this way, and here you were, a young low born northerner, mocking him. He didn't know why he enjoyed it coming from you, perhaps it was because your words meant nothing. You were no one, and he was the prince, and yet he found himself intrigued.

"That was quite a show, wasn't it?" He chuckled, the sound was hollow, not at all humorous.

"It was humiliating," you answered, the words escaping before you could stop them.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "You're lucky I find your insolence amusing."

"I thought it was why you had asked for me," you retorted, setting the shirt on the table and taking a step back.

He stood up from the chair, closing the space between the two of you. The air was thick with tension, his eyes boring into yours, his face was inches from yours.

"I didn't lose the tourney," he stated, his voice a low growl.

"You didn't win either," you countered, your cheeks flushed red, your heart racing in your chest.

He smiled, the gesture was almost predatory, he reached out and grabbed your face, his hands were rough and his grip was tight.

"You are quite the mouthy little wench," his words were a harsh whisper, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't answer, afraid of what he would do if you spoke. He seemed to be enjoying himself, his eyes dancing with amusement as he stared at you.

"On your knees," he ordered, his tone demanding.

"My lord, I-" you protested, trying to pull away.

"Kneel," his voice was louder this time, and you knew that he was not going to repeat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, but he was the prince, and you couldn't disobey him. So you lowered yourself onto your knees, looking up at him, waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

"Is it true that northern girls can take a cock better than southern ones?" He asked, his hand still holding onto your chin.

You didn't know how to respond, his words making your cheeks burn. You could only stare at him, your mind reeling as you tried to figure out what he wanted.

He smiled, and the look in his eyes made your heart race. "Open your mouth, little northerner."

You did as he commanded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed his thumb past your lips and slowly pressed down onto your tongue, rubbing it in circles before slowly dragging it out.

Your lips parted and your breathing became heavier as he traced his wet thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes fixated on the movement.

"Beautiful." He whispered before sliding his thumb back into your mouth, pushing it all the way into your throat, causing you to gag.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth and wiped the spit off on your cheek before grabbing you by the arms and lifting you up, turning you around and pushing you face first into the table.

"My lord," you gasped, struggling against his strong grip.

Daemon laughed at the look of shock on your face, his cock growing harder at the sight. "See? I knew you would make a great whore," he smirked, his words bringing a flush to your face.

He pulled your dress up, exposing your ass and legs. His hands were rough as he groped you, squeezing your thighs and your cheeks.

You pushed against him, trying to free yourself, but his grip was too strong. He pushed your thighs apart, his hand trailing up to your cunt, his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you.

He softened at your defiance, a smirk crossing his lips. "I enjoy you, little northerner. Perhaps I should keep you," he mused.

He slid his finger into your cunt, his touch gentle and slow. You whimpered, pushing against him again.

"You would be my little northern flower," he murmured, his finger moving in and out of your cunt, the pace becoming quicker. "A blue rose in my garden."

You were ashamed of how aroused you were, the prince's touch was intoxicating, and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his hand. You had never been with a man before and the pleasure he was giving you was beyond anything you had ever felt.

He slid another finger inside of you, his movements quick and rough. You moaned, biting your lip as you felt yourself getting closer to release.

He suddenly pulled away, the sudden absence of his touch made you whimper. He spun you around, knocking objects off the table and pinning you against it. Your hands went to his chest, pushing him back, but his grip was too strong, his eyes filled with lust.

"You're a feisty one," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you up and pressing you against his hips. "I guess it's true that the fires always burn hotter in the north,"

You shivered as he sucked and bit at the skin on your neck, his teeth scraping across your sensitive flesh, leaving red marks behind. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling was so intense, and the sounds were so sinful.

"My prince... I..." You stuttered, trying to find the words, but he cut you off with a kiss.

The feel of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, his cock hard against you, was intoxicating. You had never felt this way before, this desire, this want. He made you feel like you were drowning in the fire of his touch. He was a dragon, and he would take what he wanted.

You couldn't resist, you gave in, kissing him back, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He smelled of blood, dirt and sweat, a combination that shouldn't have been appealing, but was.

You could taste his lust on your lips, and it made you hungry for more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself closer to him, and he moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest. He was so much larger than you, so much stronger, and you felt so small in his arms.

His hand trailed down your chest, slowly untying the strings that held up your dress, his fingers tracing over the fabric, teasing you.

"Sweet little northern girl," he teased, his voice a low growl. "Are you going to give yourself to me?"

"Yes," you whispered, your cheeks flushed pink.

He kissed you again, his lips rough and demanding, his hand pushing your dress down, exposing your breasts. "You've never touched yourself before, have you?”

"No, my Prince," you whispered, your little hands curled into his chest, your nails digging into his skin.

"That's alright, I'll show you how it's done."

His hands slid down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up, his touch light and teasing. You let out a gasp as his fingers brushed over your cunt, touching a spot that made your body tremble.

"This little spot right here," he said, rubbing his thumb against it, "is the most sensitive part of your body. The more pressure, the better."

You nodded, gasping and moaning as he pressed his thumb against it, circling it. You could feel the heat rising within you, the pleasure building.

"Feels good doesn't it?" He whispered, his voice husky, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Y-yes," you stuttered, your hips moving, grinding against his hand.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Do you like being my little whore, hmm?" He asked, his lips trailing down your neck, his kisses hot and wet.

"N-no," you moaned, pushing him back, trying to fight against him.

He laughed, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "Liar," he whispered, his tongue licking over the marks he'd made.

His hands reaching down to his waist, undoing his breeches and pulling them off, his cock springing free. You gasped, your eyes wide as you took in the size of him.

He took your hand and placed it on his cock, his eyes burning into yours. "Go on, feel it," he whispered.

Your fingers curled around his cock, your small hand barely able to fit around him. You moved your hand, sliding it down the length of his shaft, his cock thick and pulsing in your hand. His skin was so warm and smooth, his breathing deepening as you began to move your hand up and down, stroking him slowly.

You could see the scars from battle stretched across his chest and torso. Small claw-like marks around his pectoral and a deep line that stretched down the left side of his rib cage. He was a hardened warrior, and you could tell by his scars, he had been through much to get where he was now.

You squeezed his cock, moving your hand up and down, his breathing deepening and his eyes growing hazy. He watched you, his gaze following every movement you made. You were starting to get more comfortable, taking pleasure in watching him, in making him feel good. You found the nerve to press the pad of your thumb against the tip, feeling the moisture leaking from him.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

You felt a wave of pride, knowing that you were pleasing him, that he liked the way you were touching him. You continued to stroke him, squeezing and pulling at his cock, watching his face, seeing the pleasure on his features.

He groaned, his eyes closing and his head tilting back, his breath catching. You could feel his cock throbbing in your hand, and you knew that he was getting close.

He let out a low growl and grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. "If you keep that up, I'm going to spill my seed all over this pretty little dress of yours," he said, his eyes full of heat.

"Is that so, my lord?" You asked, unable to hide the hint of amusement in your voice.

He grabbed your hips and pulled you under him, his body caging you, trapping you beneath him. He was breathing hard, his face flushed, his cock hard and resting on your stomach. His eyes burned into yours, his gaze intense, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady.

You weren't talking back anymore, he could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitance, and that only made him want you more. His hand went to your throat, applying gentle pressure, a silent warning.

He could feel you trembling beneath him, and he tightened his grip, a primal, possessive urge rising within him. Your small hands pushing into his chest, clutching at his heated flesh.

"Open for me," he growled, his eyes fixed on yours.

You parted your thighs, allowing him to press closer to you. He growled, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his waist, his cock brushing against your cunt. He felt you tighten, your eyes widening with trepidation.

He chuckled, loving how terrified and eager you were at the same time. He gave you a moment, and then he slowly pushed into you. You whimpered, your nails digging into his back, your eyes closed, your face twisted in pain.

"Breathe," he said, rubbing his thumb against your cheek, "it will hurt for a just moment and then I will make you feel good,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt his cock hit your maidenhead.

"Are you ready, little northerner?" He whispered.

You gripped his forearms and nodded.

He pushed in slowly, breaking through your barrier. You cried out, the pain was intense and immediate. He groaned, the feel of your tight cunt was intoxicating.

He stayed still, giving you time to adjust. Your nails dug into his arms, leaving deep scratches in his flesh.

"Such a pretty, tight little cunt," he growled, nipping at your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, trying to focus on his words and not the pain. He began to move with slow, deep strokes, his cock stretching you, filling you. He was bigger than he felt in your hands, and you swore you could feel him everywhere.

He moaned, his hips rocking into you, his hand still on your throat, making you feel lightheaded. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. You felt so full of him, stretched open, the pain and pleasure mixing into one.

He watched your reaction with a smirk, amused by your shocked, satisfied expression. He was moving slowly, enjoying your warmth and the feel of your cunt clenching around him. He knew you were enjoying it, too, your eyes half-closed, a soft moan escaping your lip. Your small frame was arched to his body, your hands holding on to his neck.

You were surprised at his gentleness. You'd heard that the dragon prince liked to rough up women, but he was being as careful as if you were made of spun sugar. You felt so small and helpless underneath him, his large body nearly engulfing yours, and yet he wasn't hurting you. His touch was delicate, reverent. The way he spoke to you, calling you pet names, made your heart skip a beat.

You arched against him, a soft cry leaving your lips as his strokes got faster, deeper, hitting a place inside you that sent a sharp, hot pleasure through you.

"Does my little northerner like her prince's cock?" He said, a laugh in his voice, he began to pick up the pace, pounding into you.

You squeaked and pushed on his chest, the sensations becoming too much. He grabbed your hips and held you still, fucking you hard and fast, his eyes full of fire.

You felt your release rising up inside you, the tension in your body winding tighter and tighter. You could feel yourself clamping down on his cock, the pleasure almost too much, the sweet pain sending you over the edge.

He groaned at the sight of you coming undone, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you shattered around him. He could feel the tension in your muscles as your climax tore through you. He slowed his movements, easing out the last waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you were a shuddering, moaning mess.

He was close behind, his thrusts erratic, his breathing harsh. He pulled out and spilled his seed across your stomach, his hips bucking. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a contented sigh leaving his lips. At least he had one victory today.

Your face was hot with shame, your mind unable to comprehend what just happened. The prince's seed was cooling on your stomach and chest, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Your hands went to your face, covering it as tears came to your eyes, you had never felt so good and so embarrassed at once.

He moved off of you, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk crossing his lips. He looked satisfied, his gaze wandering over your body, lingering on the wetness between your legs, the mess he'd made of you. He tossed you a cloth to clean yourself with. You wiped his seed off your skin, watching him dress, his blonde hair still braided back, his purple eyes full of lust and desire. He was a warrior, a dragon, he was beauty and strength, power and masculinity. He was everything you wanted and feared, a beast who could destroy you.

He gave you a side glance, his eyes full of amusement. "You may go," he said, shooing you away with a hand.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as you took a shaky breath. You stood up, gathering the pieces of your dress and your underclothes. Your legs were wobbly, and you felt weak, sore, and full of shame.

"Yes, my prince," you said quietly, looking at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckled, the sound of his voice making you shiver. "Don't be so timid, little northerner. This is the beginning, not the end," he said, his words sending a jolt of fear and excitement through you.

He was right, this was only the beginning. You were his servant, and he could do with you as he pleased. He would have you come to him whenever he chose, on the warmest summer nights and the coldest winter days. He would take what he wanted, when he wanted.

He was a dragon, and his will was as strong as his blood.

And deep down, you knew you would enjoy it. He was the perfect thing to distract you from the mundanity of your life, the endless monotony of serving others.

Perhaps the Red Keep wouldn't be so terrible, not if it meant serving him.

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

Text

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ so, you've been isekai'd into a romance novel...

type of post: blurbs characters: trey, vil, lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, kissing in vil's part, lilia's is a little suggestive, I can't help myself, not proofread author's note: I've wanted to do an isekai thing for a while, and I do love a good plot twist ;3

So, you've been isekai'd into a romance novel.

The only way to get home? You have to play the part of the protagonist until the novel ends.

There's just one problem, though: you're not into the love interest.

Not at all.

What's worse: you're starting to fall for a side character.

➼ His Best Friend

You started dozing off while your friend was helping you write an essay.

It was for one of those old romance novels about rich people in the English countryside, and you couldn't stand it. You knew you were going to fail when you fell asleep in your chair, thinking that you'd just cram the next day, except...

...Instead of your room, you wake up on a picturesque hill, inside the book you'd been studying.

You hear someone shouting, and you stand. There's a boy coming towards you, yelling a name you don't-

Oh, oh no.

That's the protagonist's name. Which means that can only be-

"There you are!" Riddle Rosehearts, the love interest of the novel, storms up to you.

"Your friends have been worried sick, you know! We've been looking everywhere! You've embarrassed me in front of the entire county!"

You blink, trying to remember what your friend had told you about this book:

The shouting boy, Riddle, is the love interest. Your love interest.

But it doesn't start out the way- in the beginning, he and the protagonist cannot stand each other. He's hotheaded, strict, and has no interest in love. Over the course of the book, the protagonist teaches him to let go and enjoy life, and blah blah blah...

...Yeah, you have no interest in doing any of that. "Enemies to lovers" isn't really your cup of tea.

But if it's the only way out... you can pretend.

"I... fell asleep," you say. This only seems to make Riddle more frustrated.

"You will come back at once, and apologize to my house and to my guests. Else it'll be off with your head!"

He turns and begins marching back to the estate. You roll your eyes and follow him. You're going to have to put up with this for months?

Well... maybe not.

He leads you through the back door, not wanting to "upset the guests any further", and tells you to wait for him in the kitchen.

Great. Just great.

You watch Riddle straighten his tie and walk into the parlor to speak with the guests, prim and proper as ever. Eye roll.

The door opens- not the door to the parlor, but the one you'd just come from. You turn with a curious look.

"Oh!" another boy says. "I apologize, I wasn't... expecting anyone."

After a moment, it hits you- this is the love interest's sensible childhood friend, so unimportant in the plot that he was cut from the movie adaptation entirely.

You raise an eyebrow. "No, it's alright. Beats getting yelled at,"

He blinks, confused by your wording, and then smiles. You know you shouldn't be thinking these things, but it's sort of cute. What was his name, again?

"Ah... I suppose Riddle found you, then?"

"You suppose correctly,"

"Heh," he crosses his arms. "I apologize on his behalf. He was just... worried."

Wonderful. This is the part where he tells the protagonist about the love interest's sad backstory, isn't it?

"I don't really want to talk about him right now," you say. "Honestly, I'd rather hear more about you."

His smile falters, and he seems a little... well, taken aback. As if no one has ever asked him about himself.

"I... I suppose we haven't been properly introduced, have we?" he mutters, adjusting his glasses in nervous habit. You remember reading that. It was cute.

"My name is Trey Clover. My family owns the bakery in town, but I'm afraid it's not as glamorous as this."

He means the Rosehearts' manor. You could care less about that.

"You bake?"

"...I do," Trey says. "You eat?"

It's a stupid joke, but it makes you smile.

You nod, and he goes back outside, returning with a basket.

"These are for the guests..." he says, taking a pastry out of the basket. "...But they won't notice if one is missing."

You accept the treat. "Rulebreaker, are you?"

Trey's face flushes, but he laughs it off.

"Certainly not. Rule-breaking is a dangerous pastime in this household,"

And yet, he did it for you.

You smile back.

Suddenly, Riddle's temper isn't going to be the only difficult thing about playing this part...

➼ His Rival

With a movie adaptation on the way and a permanent spot on the bestseller's list, you had great expectations for this little book.

You'd heard nothing but praise. Even your family members had recommended it to you, saying that it was right up your alley, and they thought you'd love it.

So, finally, you buy the book (which is WAY too expensive), make yourself a warm drink, get cozy in bed, and...

And... it's terrible. It's completely unrealistic! It's downright boring!

Disappointed, you put it down, turn off the light, and try to sleep it off.

Try to, because you wake up disgruntled and groggy, and not in your bed. In fact, you're not in a bed at all.

"There you are!" a voice comes from above you.

You look to see a short, panicked lavender-haired boy. "Where have you been?! You're on in five!"

You rub your eyes. "Huh?"

"Didja hit your head or 'somethin? If we don't get you back on stage, my boss is gonna-"

"Going to what, Epel?" a colder, stronger voice carries across the hall. You both turn to see a meticulously dressed man with a stern look on him, and not a single hair out of place.

...Shit. You know where you are.

This is the romance book you'd been reading!

"S-sorry, Mr. Schoenheit," Epel says. "But it's their fault! They're the one who ran off!"

"I know that," Vil Schoenheit, the antagonist of the story, says. He narrows his eyes. "I'm not surprised our little potato has already quit. Couldn't handle the pressure, hm?"

You blink- oh, no.

You're the protagonist- the normal, nobody student who was ~randomly~ chosen to be the lead in a romantic drama, even though they've never acted a day in their lives.

"I-I just-"

"Enough of that," Vil says sternly. "Now, get up. These costumes aren't cheap, and you're dirtying yours on the floor."

He escorts you out of the hall and back onto set, Epel not far behind.

"Places!" someone shouts, and Epel nudges you into position on the sound stage.

"Remember, you don't say anything in this scene," he whispers, covering his headset mic. "Just look like you're in love. And make the kiss believable!"

Your eyes widen. "The WH-"

"Quiet on set!" the director yells, and Epel hurries away. "Action!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as the doors fly open and the book's love interest, actor Neige Leblanche, runs on set. His outfit is simple but glamorous, his eyes wide with emotion, his dark hair lightly tousled.

Horrifically, he's wearing a generous amount of lip gloss. So are you.

"My love!" he cries out, running up the steps toward you. You watch in horror as he gets closer and throws his arms around you, and just as you're about to have the dramatic, impassioned kiss the book has been leading you to, you push him off.

The director stares. Neige's eyes widen. Epel smacks his forehead.

The rest of the set is silent.

Finally, you feel a cool hand wrapping around your wrist, and suddenly, you're outside again.

"Have you lost your mind?" Vil hisses, his grip on you tightening. "You are making a fool out of all of us. You're an embarrassment to this production, and you should have never even..."

He stops, mid-rant, when he sees your eyes watering.

"...Don't you dare make me feel sorry for you,"

You sniffle, and he sighs. He pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at your eyes, careful not to smudge the stage makeup.

"You're going to ruin someone's hard work like that, you know," he murmurs. "Now, what are you crying about? Isn't this what you want?"

You shake your head. You must look absolutely miserable, because he isn't even a little mad anymore.

"...You're ridiculous," he mutters, tucking the handkerchief away with a faint smile. "But I can't say I blame you. I wouldn't want to kiss him, either."

You take a deep breath, and then return his smile. How can someone so sweet be a villain?

Vil lets the moment linger. His eyes dart to the stage doors behind you, then back to you, and then he holds your chin between his pointer finger and his thumb, and then he kisses you.

It doesn't last for long, but it's enough to leave you dazed when he pulls away.

"...Your lip gloss is smudged," he comments, and then he walks back to set without another word.

...Perhaps this book is more interesting than you'd thought.

➼ His Father

When your friend started gushing about this new dark romance book she finished, you thought she was just reading a bunch of tropes off a page.

Fae court? Handsome, mysterious, brooding princes? A tall, dark, possessive love interest? Sure.

You promise you'll try it, and she takes that as a "yes", leaving the book on your desk. It goes untouched.

You wake up in a dark forest. For a moment, you think you're still dreaming- until a thorn pricks your finger, drawing blood, and you realize this is very, very real.

You can see a medieval castle off in the distance, and to your horror, you realize where you are.

"No... this isn't happening..." you mutter to yourself.

"What isn't happening?"

You jump at the sudden noise, and turn on your heels to see someone behind you. How you missed him, you're not sure. He's pale, his hair is striped pink, and his eyes are almost glowing.

"Not from here, are you?" he says with a smile. "You must be tired. Come, Lord Malleus' home is always open to guests."

This is the weirdest stranger danger situation you've ever been in. This small gentleman has fangs.

He chuckles. "Don't let appearances fool you. We're quite hospitable!"

You think about it- you could stay in the forest, and die of a slow and agonizing death, either by starvation or mauling, or you could play the part, return to the castle, fall in love with the tall love interest, and have his babies.

...Honestly, hypothermia doesn't sound too bad.

But you also know that the book has to end eventually. And when it does, you'll get spit out. Maybe.

You're in the mood for taking chances.

The castle is just as grand and old as your friend had described it. The food is just as strange, the court just as intimidating.

Strangely, though, she never mentioned any short, pink-haired fae, apparently named Lilia Vanrouge.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" he asks, having caught you staring.

You quickly look back at your own plate. "It's just, um... well... I was wondering about your relationship to the prince,"

He winks, as if to say "nice save".

"He's... well, a foster son, of sorts. Think of it however you'd please,"

"Are you comfortable?" the prince in question asks, his eyes showing genuine concern.

You shrug. "...I guess so,"

"How does one get so lost they end up in Briar Valley, anyway?" one of his knights, Silver, asks in a soft tone.

"AND HOW CAN WE BE SURE THEY AREN'T AN ASSASSIN SENT TO HARM OUR LIEGE?!" the other, Sebek, says in a less-soft tone.

"Oh, nonsense," Lilia says. "Malleus likes them. Don't you, Malleus?"

The prince nods. Oh, brother.

"How nice. Perhaps you two should rendezvous after dinner? To get to know each other better, hm?"

You stare down Lilia, practically begging him to shut up. You want to shake him and shout "Stop trying to set me up with your weird kid!!!!!"

Sebek looks appalled at the very idea. "BUT- MASTER LILIA- THEY CANNOT BE TRUSTED! I CANNOT ALLOW THIS!"

Thank you, Sebek!!! you think.

"Yeah, um... you know, I'm kind of tired, so..." you say. "Maybe tomorrow? Or next week? Or, um, whenever. You know."

Sebek visibly relaxes at that, and Silver raises an eyebrow.

"Of course," Malleus says. "I will have the finest room arranged for you at once."

And he did. This world may be stuck in ye olde medieval fantasy times, but man, what money can't buy...

As you look around the exquisite room, you hear a knock at the door.

Lilia comes in without waiting for an answer. "Enjoying the room, I hope?"

You sigh.

"Did Malleus send you?"

He chuckles, and takes a seat on your bed. "I am his keeper, he is not mine. I just wanted to see how you were faring,"

"I'm fine," you turn back to the wall, pretending to look at a tapestry. The sight of him on your bed is... distracting, to say the least.

"Hm..." Lilia hums. "...I would like to apologize for overstepping at dinner. I did not mean to imply anything. We're rather isolated here, and Malleus has been lonely..."

It makes sense, of course. He's only looking out for his... strange, sort-of son. Still...

"And you're not?" you ask.

Lilia doesn't have a response for that. You turn around to gauge his expression, and he's smiling.

"Khee hee. You're a clever little thing. If I didn't know any better, I would think you were flirting,"

Now, it's your turn to not respond. He's caught you, and he knows it.

Your heart beats with something like excitement as he stands and closes the door.

"But I suppose I have all night to figure it out,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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hello-eden · 5 months ago

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Unexpended Hope 2

part one

Tim wanted to lay at home at the Manor on the couch and work on his case. He hates galas. He's the best at them but that does not mean he likes it. Dick realizes that Damian's been missing for over a hour so Tim volunteered to go look for him.

He's checked the entire floor above, the cameras in the lobby and he just gets up the stairs for the next floor when he sees him. Tim almost doesn't recognize him for a minute. He has a small smile and is talking with his hands, which is something Damien never does but everything else about him is the same. Damien is talking to someone that Tim can't see.

There's no place to really hide over here so he just stand in the stairway and wait to be noticed. It took a lot longer than Tim thought it would be noticed but in that time he sees the person that Damian's talking to.

It's a girl.

Tim was not expecting to find Damien with someone let alone a girl. Damien seems to be enjoying whatever they are talking about but that doesn't make it any less unusual. She's auburn hair braided out of her face in a teal mid length dress with black accents.

What surprises him the most other than the fact that she is not flinching away from Damien is that she's wearing Damien’s suit jacket. It's about 5 minutes before either of them notices that he's in front of them.

The two of them exchange a look and then Damien seems to go back to his normal self. he's scowling he's glaring at him like he usually does and he has no signs of what Tim's assuming was happiness that he had seconds before.

“Drake, is there a reason you are here?” Damien sneered at him.

“You've been missing from the party for almost 2 hours. We came looking that you didn't kill anyone” Tim responded back.

The girl that Damien was talking to started to giggle. Instead of glaring at her, Damien tried to pinched her without looking away from Tim. The girl slapped Damian's hand away before he could actually do it.

“Who's your friend?” Tim questions refusing to be the one to break eye contact with Damien first.

“Sarah Lauren” the girl replies, snapping in front of their eyes and then holding out a hand for him to shake.

He does.

“you're Byron Lauren's daughter right Bruce was just talking to him when I left” Tim smiles his best socialite smile.

it's probably useless now that she's seen him interact with Damian but it's better to be polite. Sarah seems to twitch after he said that. if he wasn't trained as well as he was he wouldn't have noticed.

“If we are done with this Dreadful small talk” Damian brings the attention back to himself. If Tim didn't know any better he would think it would stop Sarah being uncomfortable. “is my presence required back at that Useless occasion.”

“Bruce Needs you for something” Tim says trying not to mention what it was in front of the obvious civilian. There isn't anything Cape related but he'd prefer to have Damian alone to talk to him and that would be going much easier if Damien thought it was a cape thing.

“lead the way back to those horrid party guests.”

Tim does move to leave them back to the party going ahead in front of them but definitely listening to whatever they're going to say behind him

“How do you know him?” Sarah asks Damian. Damien didn't instantly introduce himself as a Wayne? That's different or does she not know anything about the Wayans and she just didn't put it together.

“Third brother” Damien replies.

“Third brother, how many siblings do you have?” Sarah questioned

Tim needed to talk to Dick about this. He's the one who keeps up with Damien's social life; he'd know what is going on.

#reincarnated danny #reincarnated sam manson #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover #batman #batfam #batfamily #dcxdp

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the-froschamethyst4 · 8 days ago

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Guns and Dahlias

𖤐Pairing: CrimeLord! Ghost x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, harsh language, innocent! Reader, married couple, mentions of violence, guns, blood, kidnapping, knives, drinking, smoking, brief nudity, nipple play, P in V, kissing/making out, age gap (32-40), no codenames,

𖤐Summary: Ghost a Crime Lord that everyone fears, everyone bit his own wife

————

New Years

"I don't care-just bring me my goddamn money, how hard is that," his hand slams on the table making a loud bang. "Listen, listen, I don't fucking care, just bring me the 150,000 and I'll consider not putting 15 bullet holes in your fucking face, you have 24 hours, and if I don't see money in my hand by 7 o'clock, I'm finding you and killing you myself, does that work?"

Simon Riley, a Crime Lord in Manchester, he gives no fucks who you are you make a deal with him or you ask him to do something, he wants something in return doesn't matter how big or small the job is he wants something in return.

In this case some man had asked Simon to stop some illegal weapons getting shipped overseas, and Simon had asked $150,000 in cash as his payment and hasn't received it in over 4 months, and now, he's not giving a shit anymore.

He hangs up and tosses his phone onto his desk, sitting down on his chair and his hands going to his face, just how he wants to spend his New Years, doing work while he should be out there enjoying a party with his wife, but instead is here doing fucking business.

Soon his door was open, he looks up ready to yell at the person to get out, but he met the eyes of his wife, coming in with her glass of wine and a small glass of bourbon.

"Honey?"

"My love, why are you in here? You should be out there, enjoying the party."

"You should be out there too, everyone is wondering where you are, you're all cooped up in here."

"I'll be down soon, I promise."

"Tell that to your mom, she asked me where you were and asked if you slowing down on your...business."

"I'm trying," he takes the glass from her and takes a small sip from it. "Anyone else giving you trouble?" He asked, ready just in case.

"No, no violence or crimes tonight, honey, just come out and party with us," she cups his face and kissed his lips.

"I'll down soon, I have one last call," he says, kissing her forehead and he waits till the door was shut to grab his phone and call his right hand man, John MacTavish.

"Johnny."

"Huh? What's up?" He says.

"I'm having an issue with that...douche bag that still owns me money keep an eye on him and his men, do what's necessary in case someone get out of line."

"Will do, did the missus tell you no killing tonight?" John chuckles on the other side of the phone.

Simon mocks his chuckles. "Funny, and she did, just do it." He growls before hanging up his phone.

Simon puts his phone in his back pocket and opened the door to his office making sure it's shut all the way and locks from the outside, the office was always off limits to everyone expect him, his men and his wife.

He walks downstairs seeing everyone either talk, drink, smoke, play some games or even watched the New Years Party on TV that was shooting from New York.

He sees Y/n sitting on the couch next to her cousins, he's familiar with, most of the guests here were Y/n's family who wanted to come and hang out and even see Y/n if they haven't seen her in a long time. Simon was making his way to Y/n kissing the top of her head and his big, rough calloused hand resting on her shoulder.

Simon then sits next to her his arm going behind her, she leans into his side as her cousin Mark started to talk about his own business, Mark owned a marketing company.

Simon then could feel his phone vibrating in his back pocket, he shakes his head but takes it out of his back pocket, Y/n looks at him and gives him a pout.

"Simon-"

"Just real quick," he says, answering the call and running off to a more quiet and private area.

"What is it?" He sounded mean, and serious. The man on the other line was Johnny giving Simon details about the money being handled, and then how Johnny is watching his men collect the money and they were checking to make it was real and not tempered.

Y/n had left her family at the couch, she walks down the hallway seeing the library door slightly opened and heard Simon's deep and gruff voice from the other side of the door, she pushes it open and walks to her husband.

He hears her heels clicking on the marble flooring so he wasn't too alarmed on who it was, he feels her arms snake around his waist and she is front of him now, her chin resting on his chest looking up at him as he starts talking to Johnny, his eyes were dark, cold and heartless, no sign of emotions.

He hangs up his phone and placed it back in his back pocket, he looks down at Y/n, his eyes changed to warmth, he cups her face and leaned down and kissed her lips.

"Are you done for the night?" She asked.

"Hopefully," Simon says, peppering her face with kisses. "I won't answer my phone anymore for the rest of the night," he says, kissing her lips and soon the kiss became heated.

He picks her up and moves her against the tall window, placing her back on the ground, he takes her hands and traps them in his hands and against the window.

His breathing was heavy and he looks into her eyes, kissing her lips again, she pulls her hands away from his, her hands going to his blonde hair or resting on the nape of his neck.

His lips attacked her neck, kissing it, sucking on it a bit, and even biting it, not leaving marks though. His hands then go her legs and lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. He moves to the one of the chairs that sat in front of the fireplace.

She pulls back from his lips, her hands resting on his shoulders, she moves her hands behind her back and starts unzipping her dress, once it was lose, she moves the straps off her shoulders, exposing her breasts, her nipples were perked up from the sudden coldness.

He smirks when seeing her bare chest in front of her, his hands slid up her waist and goes behind her pulling at the dress to be fully off her body now, but she just waves a finger in his face that he's not in control, she is.

Simon may be the scary man everyone fears, but when it comes to sex, Y/n is in charge not Simon.

She leans forward kissing his lips as his hands just roamed all over her body, going between her body and squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, and rolling her nipples between his fingers.

"Where's Y/n and Simon?" Y/n lifts her head when hearing someone call for them, Simon was still kissing her bare skin, but she pulls away.

Simon looks up at her and smirks.

"What?" He asked.

"We have to keep our guests entertained, we don't have time for this right now," she says.

"Sure, we do, we snuck away from a little bit, we're so close," he pleads.

"No, Si, come on," she fixes herself up and Simon gets off the chair, Y/n goes to window able seeing her reflection fixing her dress, her hair and making sure there are no marks on her body. Simon goes up to her gently smacking her butt and kissing her neck.

"Come on," she pulls him out of the library and they see everyone surrounding the TV, the ball was getting ready to drop. Y/n and Simon grab a drink, and Y/n drags her husband to the crowd and watched the TV as they all yelled at the countdown.

"10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!" Everyone shouts, loud poppers go off, the loud sounds of party blowers going off, couples kissing, children cheering. Simon held Y/n's waist pulling her in and giving her at first a small peck but then pulling her close and the became a bit heated, some cheered, while Y/n was laughing and trying to keep Simon from getting too carried away.

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

5:00 AM (Next Morning)

Simon was grunting, he was giving his wife the best pleasure she could be receiving into the New Year, her head back buried into the pillow, her knuckles turned white as she was gripping the soft material.

Her ass bouncing as Simon was gripping her ass, giving a small squeeze, smirking when Y/n would moan his name, her knees weak and she'd let him know that she was feeling good.

"F-Fuck," she moans out.

This has been going on since 3 in the morning, Simon had woken up to feeling himself getting morning wood, he at first didn't want to wake up Y/n but she was already awake, she couldn't sleep but him moving around and being uncomfortable made her ask if he wanted to fuck, and of course this is where we are now.

Y/n could feel herself close to coming and then without warning came on her husbands dick, giving Simon the motivation to come faster and he soon did, he came inside of her.

His forehead rested between her shoulder blades.

"God," he mumbles against her skin. He falls on the bed and Y/n did too, she snuggles up to his side, Simon then picks up Y/n taking her to the bathroom to clean each other up.

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

Simon sat in his office, shirtless and some sweatpants, he was checking emails, answering calls if the phone rang. Y/n was in the kitchen making breakfast for Simon. They made a plate and walked to the office. She pushes it open and smiles at him.

"Here," she says, placing the plate down and she kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, my love," he says. "Smells good."

"Hopefully, it is," she giggles, she walks out of his office and as she rounds the corner, she bumped into Johnny.

"John, you're here early," she says.

"Yeah, I'm just here to speak with the boss," he says.

"I see, he's in his office," she says, walking away, John turns his head seeing just peaking from the bottom of the oversized shirt Y/n's booty cheeks, John knew to control himself, as he turns he is faced with red eyes burning into his soul.

"You better not be fucking thinking something," Simon says, John swallowed a lump in his throat.

John puts his hands up. "No, no, nothing."

"Get in my office," Simon growls.

Doesn't matter if you are friends with Simon since birth, you fuck around with his wife, you will either get a bullet between your eyes or a piercing burning stare into your soul that will scare the absolute shit out of you.

"Updates," Simon says, shutting the door and immediately wanting answers.

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

6:00 AM

Y/n sits on the couch, she had cleaned up a bit from last night before the maids came in, just to help out. Simon had called some maids to come clean up even though Y/n said she could do it, Simon told her.

"I don't want your pretty little hands getting dirty," he says. "I need them to be able to please me when I ask." He teased.

As Y/n sat on the couch, Simon and Johnny had came out of his office, Simon was fixing his blazer and his tie making him look professional, he didn't ignore Y/n to go to the garage and get into a car and leave.

Y/n sits up on her knees turning around as Simon walks to her, cupping her face and kissing her face.

"I'm going to the casino to go pay someone a visit, I'll be back later tonight, okay?"

"Okay, be safe."

"I will." He smiles and gives her one more kiss, before walking to Johnny and they go the the huge garage that held over 13 different cars in the garage, he unlocks a 2024 Bugatti W16 Mistral, a sleek black exterior with red and black interior. It was sleek and a fucking sexy car.

Y/n could hear the loud engine starting up and watching as the black car takes off out of the driveway and the black gate opens up.

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

At the casino that of course Simon owned, the man owns 5 different casinos, 3 in London and 2 in Las Vegas, besides being a hardcore Crime Lord, he was one of the most richest man in Manchester.

As he pulls up outside his casino, his first owned casino, one that is hard to get in, the oldest standing casino and the one that makes him the most money, he gives the keys to valet and walks in with Johnny behind him.

A waitress came up to him giving him a glass of bourbon of course all his employees knew who he was, what he did, and they all work for him so if someone suspicious is at the casino they will let him know and he'll come handle it.

Simon knew the man who owed him money would be here tonight, trying to avoid him instead of paying back the $150,000. What an idiot showing up at a casino owned by the very man he was trying to dodge.

They went up to Simon's office that overlooked the casino, Simon went to the window that outlooked at the casino and then window were a one way mirror, no one can see in, but Simon could see out. The windows were also super thick meaning no bullets could go through the glass.

He looks out and sees everyone gambling their hearts out, laughing, drinking, some smoking and some looking intrigued with the waitresses roaming around the casino passing drinks out.

"How long are we waiting?" John asks.

"As long as we need to," Simon was short and blunt with him.

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

12:00 PM

Simon looks down at his patrons, he was scanning everyone faces trying to find someone that is either familiar with the man that owns him money or the guy himself.

But no one, he even looked at people who he deemed as 'suspicious' but nothing. Surely this asshole was coming to his casino, he was given word he would be coming here, which is why Simon is here.

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

Y/n sat on the couch watching TV most of it is News stuff, she had very little interest in, but she watched it anyways. They were talking about a sudden rise in murder cases in downtown London and Manchester. Y/n messes with her fingers worried about Simon.

She of course knows what Simon does for a living room, but isn't scared of him, she was always worried about him. She then turns the channel and sees lunch is on it's way, she gets up off the couch and goes to the kitchen to make herself something.

As she gets to the kitchen what she didn't know was someone watching her from inside the mansion.

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

Simon sits in his chair bored, but he has to deal with it, he is just sitting and waiting, Johnny then comes in.

"Boss...he's here..."

"Good, time to pay him a visit," he fixes himself up and then leaves his office and goes to the table he was at. He sits at the table and the man shudders when he knew Simon sat next to him.

"Harry O' Meta."

"Simon Riley."

"You know why I'm here..." short and sweet. "Where's my goddamn money?" Simon asked as the dealer was passing out the cards to everyone at the table.

"I have it," Harry has a smirk on his face as if he's one step ahead.

"So, where is it?"

"You may want the money...but I have something you may want even more," Harry then passes Simon a photo face down. Simon looks at Harry with a serious look on his face.

Simon grabs the photo...flipping it over and seeing what the photo was. Y/n on the ground blood running out of her mouth, and nose, her hands tied in front of her as she was sitting in a chair but she was knocked over like she was beaten.

Simon slams the photo down on the table and grabs Harry from his seat, lifting him up and slamming him against the nearest wall.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE!?"

"Now, now, Mr. Riley. If you kill me, you'll never find out where she is." Simon stays silent, a low growl rumbling in his throat, before slamming Harry to the ground. He begins to beat him, not enough to kill, but just enough to make him suffer. Enough to make sure Harry felt a fraction of the pain Y/n had endured.

Simon lifts the bloodied man off the ground and yanks him to his office where he slams Harry on the ground.

"Tell me where the fuck my wife is." Simon demands.

"You kill me and you'll never know," Harry reminds Simon.

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

The room was dark, Y/n vision was blurry.

"Oh look who's up, the Queen," one man laughs. Y/n groans from the sudden pain she was feeling in her face.

"Hope boss can hold his own," another says, knowing that Simon could beating the man right now.

One of the men came by and pulls the chair Y/n was on up off the floor, her head felt weak, she could barely hold it up, her head went forward and one of the men pushed her head back making her slam the back of her head on the wooden chair.

"Hey keep your head up, Queen, we have to send the King one more photo of your..." he cups her chin seeing her bruised left eye, cuts covered all over her face, and dried blood under her nose, lip, and chin. "Lovely face," he says, sarcastically and takes a photo.

He pushes her head away and laughs as Y/n groans once more in pain. Dried tear stains stained her cheeks, she needs Simon right now, she just wants to know he's coming to get her, that he's already sent his men to come and find her.

Simon was given a tablet and received the photo he was more disgusted and infuriated that some lowlife and touching his wife, and wants to cut off the hand of every single man that had harmed his wife.

Simon's knuckles turned white seeing the pain in Y/n's eyes, he wished it was him in her place, she didn't deserve any of this, she did nothing wrong and was never involved with Simon's business.

Harry chuckles as Johnny then punches him in the face.

"How can I take her place?" Simon says.

"You can't." Harry chuckles.

PUNCH

"There's a way, there always is, you want me don't you?" Simon says, standing up and then towering over Harry. "How the fuck...do I take her place..?"

"...Turning yourself in...you know, I'm not the man you are after, I'm just his fucking henchman, turn yourself into him, and maybe...he'll spare her life and take yours instead." He chuckles once more.

"Take me to him."

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fr04k1e · 26 days ago

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GIGIS WORLD AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUGH

AAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHH its not even fully done yet i still have like 4 other characters to make but honestly i might scrap or put this project on hiatus i have no motivation to work on it anymore sobs

i will give you guys the ideas i had for the characters i didnt end up making though, and the idea i had for the toon handlers.

Flutter - Gardener, works in the garden and grows/collects seasonings for the kitchen and decoration for the casino customers/staff

R&D - Casino Hosts, working directly with customers to make sure they want to return to the casino and ensuring they have a good experience.

Looey - A comedian/magician on the stage in the disco, a solo preformer. Magician by day and comedian during after hours

Pebble - A security dog working within every part of the casino, with his loud bark he can alert other security of unwanted guests, and using his sharp teeth he can hold them down long enough to deal with them.

Cosmo - A chef in the kitchen, working along with shrimpo. He specializes in pastries, but can also cook other, more healthy foods if needed.

ok thats about it for the toons i didnt end up getting to design. ill ramble more about the actual lore here if anyone cares about that LOL. keep in mind i got like almost nowhere with this so its very VERY vauge and unfinished also im not a good writer whoops

' the basic idea is that the casino had been running fine up untill they had faced a lawsuit, causing them to shut down everything and abandon the casino. Since the toons had been made specifically for the casino they had just been left in there to handle themselves. Eventually, one of the toons had grown curious and decided to tear down one of the machines. After ripping open the back of the machine, black ooze leaked out and covered the bottom of their feet. Not thinking much of it and assuming it was just oil of some kind, they continued, getting the liquid all over their hands and face, along with their legs. After tearing open the machine, they had found little to nothing of interest and left to get themselves cleaned up. However, when they tried to wipe the goo off, it wouldnt budge and instead had covered more of their body. After a short while, they began to feel hollow on the inside and an ache in their bones, what happened afterwards had become contagious and slowly began to infect the whole casino. '

TOON HANDLERS!! they have a whole new purpose here. They work mostly as managers for the toons, each handler has their own line of work and toons to keep track of and train, only 4 have designs tho lol. IGNORE the reindeer names i couldnt think of anything else ok

ok so IN ORDER

Harvey - the bartender, he works with Rodger, Dandy and Sprout. often exhausted, but not rude by any means. mostly quiet and closed off

Prancer - the director, works with Glisten, Poppy, Boxten, Shelly and Looey. a jumpy cheery fella, mostly looking to have fun and trying to be as positive as she can be. bigender monarch

Doner - the (old) director/beauty worker, used to work with Glisten, Poppy, Boxten, Shelly and Teagan, but had been fired after a long time working there due to extreme mistreatment of his toons. although he was closed off, he never seemed to be too angry or aggressive towards other handlers, but when a toon would mess up or act out he would become ruthless without the other handlers knowledge.

Rudolf - the chef, works with Shrimpo, Cosmo and Flutter. a happy and cocky chef who tries his best to make his job entertaining and teaches his toons in more extreme fun ways.

there SHOULDVE been way more but as i said before i dont have motivation to work on this anymore lmao. also glisten canonically has BPD in this my #bpdwarrior

TAG ME IN FANART OR IF YOU DECIDE TO EXTEND THIS AU A LITTLE BIT!! ID LOVE TO SEE IT my twitter is @d1spatches and my tiktok is @0tt3rpaw

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thedemises · 16 days ago

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——— COLD HANDS。 ★ sunday.

note; I don't think I wrote my boy sunday good enough to the canon..... anyways I took inspiration from the fact that my hands r always cold so why not 😈 (I totally didn't take a week to finish this hahahahah this turned out a lot longer than I expected,,,, over 2k.... 😦)

tagging; @aventurineswife :3

you could've barely noticed it at first, but the tips of your fingers were slowly growing numb as time passes, likely due to the cold humidity in the room. however, you hardly care, letting yourself sink into the serene stillness in the party car of the astral express.

it had always been a normal occurrence for your hands to feel much colder than anyone else's, and it was a bother at times when you would unintentionally graze your own hand against a part of your body — however, you managed to find a small advantage in it; often pressing your icy fingers against your friends' necks as a small, playful prank.

you can remember the priceless expressions on your fellow express members' faces whenever you pull such an act on them without their awareness and the thought of it barely makes you chuckle to yourself on any occasion. heh, the corner of your lips quirk up into a sly smirk without your intentions.

though you wouldn't recommend doing that to the conductor of the train...

pointer fingers lightly tap on each other with hands clasped together, you stay seated with legs crossed as your eyes occasionally scan the room carefully for a potential candidate to interact with. member or guest, you just want to talk to pass the time. (shush isn't really fun to converse with, in your opinion; other than those jokes, he's a gentleman but not quite interesting enough in your eyes. though you're curious about shush's creator; the one who made the mixologist).

the top of your shoe taps against the polished floor, in a steady rhythm made up by your mind — or coming from a song you had in your mind for a while now — while you eventually spot your victim possible conversationist.

a young man standing at the farthest corner of the cart, in a bicolored tailcoat and small wings behind his ears which are of similar tone to his muted blue hair as a golden halo floats behind the head. they flap and twitch from time to time and he is merely unbothered by the silence in the area (besides the sound of glass cups clinking from shush cleaning them and that lady in a purple veil looking over some tarot cards floating in her hands), the halovian simply stares about at the space outside the cabin with a sort of... longing look in his eyes.

...

ah, sunday — former head of the oak family and older brother of the interastral famous idol; robin. honestly; you weren't really involved in the whole penacony catastrophe since you, alongside dan heng, decided to stay behind in the express until you made the decision to go and went along with the archivist (and a certain galaxy ranger who was practically hijacking the parlor car, and with a gun pointed at the reserved train guardian no less) and then assisting the others in taking down that damned giant mechanical monstrosity and that damned giant mechanical monstrosity's sea angel-looking things.

and now with that event taken care of and calming down, it's a bit of a surprise when the guy who tried to basically kill the other astral express members aboards the same train that railed him over a couple times and is now trying to redeem himself from the goal where he tried to turn everyone's dream into a complacent bliss by taking everyone's free will & future in the process.

instead of the one who (though, unintentionally) almost ascended to aeonhood, sunday is reduced to a mere passenger on the express train you too aboard on. what a life turning of events.

and with the idea of spooking him as well settles at the top of your mind.

the mischievous thought solidifies, and your eyes gleam with a subtle spark of excitement. sunday seems like the perfect target — a mix of composed and distant, a far cry from the usual express members who might anticipate your pranks by now; considering how long it has been since you've been a member.

your cold fingers itch with anticipation, the chill now feels like an asset rather than a hindrance — and it feels like the oh-so perfect moment to do so.

you rise from your seat slowly, careful not to make a sound that would alert him to your approach, as your steps are light, muffled by the carpeted floor of the party car. the young halovian seems deeply engrossed in the view beyond the window, the distant in his gaze making you almost reconsider — just for half a second. however, the faint smirk creeping up onto your lips reminds you of your current goal.

and who are you to shy away so quickly from an itching opportunity to fill your satisfaction?

as you inch closer behind with the quietest of steps, his ear wings twitch slightly, making you pause your movements. they’re... quite delicate up close than you realized, the translucent blue edges of each pale feather shimmering faintly and you were almost distracted by them. almost.

why yes, you were curious about his halovian features but now's not the time to ponder, you...

with deft fingers, you gently brush aside a curtain of his muted blue hair, exposing the nape of his neck. it's quite warmer than you expected — soft, almost inviting — and, while at the back of your mind you were a bit baffled how sunday barely even noticed what you were doing, it takes every ounce of self-control not to giggle at the thought of what’s about to happen.

“ah, what’s the point of hesitation now?” you mutter under your breath before plunging your frozen-like fingers onto the bare skin of his neck—

—the reaction you got was instantaneous. sunday’s breath hitches audibly and a low, startled gasp escapes his lips as his entire body jolts from the sudden, icy shock at the nape of his neck; his posture was rigid as if struck by lightning as his ear wings snap open instinctively, flaring out like a startled bird's — the sharp motion sends a soft, fleeting breeze through the air, ruffling your hair slightly.

“by the stars—!” he gasps, eyes wide and glimmering like fractured glass as a hand flies up to cover the assaulted area as if to guard it from another ambush from your shenanigans. his intriguing golden halo hovering behind his head wavers slightly, tilting as though reflecting his momentary loss of composure, and his cheeks flushed a light peachy red from the heat of surprise.

the young man spins around after a small beat of silence with a sharp intake of breath, his expression a mix of shock and confusion, the serene mask he wore moments ago completely shattered.

your hands had already retracted when sunday covered the back of his own neck, and you can't help the laughter that spills out of you; unrestrained and shameless.

“wo—ow!” you manage between bouts of mirth, a hand barely covers your mouth to partially drown out half the noise you were making within the usually quiet cart. “that... that was... absolutely priceless, sunday...!” your voice wavers and slightly cracks at the end of your sentence, still carried by the remnants of your laughter; the amusement from the entire situation clearly written all over your face.

for a moment, he just stares at you, caught between the bewilderment and indignation of your little prank... then, his brows knit together in a way that’s almost endearing, and his lips press into a tight line. “what… was that for?” his careful voice carries the faintest tremor, as though he’s still recovering from the shock of the chill.

eventually, you've recovered from your little laughing fit enough to answer sunday properly this time, as a hand of yours reached up to wipe off a small tear from your eyes. “oh, come on,” you lightly tease, leaning against a nearby chair with a smug grin. “you were just.. idly standing over there, looking all broody and mysterious; I couldn’t resist.”

sunday exhales sharply, visibly trying to collect himself. his wings fold back into place with a soft rustle, and his hand lingers protectively over his neck before letting it hang by his side.

“I was merely... thinking.”

“hm? about what?” asked you while tilting your head.

the halovian hesitates as the faint blush lingering on his cheeks gradually fades, leaving his complexion noticeably paler. “nothing that concerns you.”

“huh, is that so?” you drawl, tapping your chin as if in deep thought. “perhaps I have just found a new mystery to solve — cracking sunday’s enigmatic shell.”

“i— don’t even think about it,” he mutters, though there’s a flicker of something in his tone — a hint of amusement, perhaps? the left wing behind his ear twitches subtly before steadying behind him, but the slight folding of both ear wings toward his face betrays his embarrassment.

amused by his actions, you chuckle to yourself again and fold your arms over your chest. “you’ll have to lighten up eventually, y’know sunny. can’t stay all reserved and quiet forever.”

“don't—” sunday abruptly stops himself, then he sighs in exasperation of your antics. “you’re insufferable. but please refrain from calling me that in the future.”

“and you’re fun to mess with.” you flash him a cheeky smirk, already contemplating your next move. after all, what’s life aboard the astral express without a little bit of mischief?

“also, why not? but, however, if that's what you want...”

as sunday just turns away to the side just a bit, you straighten up your posture, still all smiley and smirking whatnot. you can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment; breaking through the usually quiet halovian's composure felt like a minor victory in itself. the quiet hum of the astral express fills the air again as the moment between you fades into the serene stillness of the party car.

still, something about the faint blush lingering on sunday’s cheeks keeps tugging at your thoughts. veneath the cool exterior and formal demeanor lies a person who, much like everyone else aboard this train, carries their own scars and stories. you might be good at teasing and poking a bit here and there, but you’re not oblivious to the weight he seems to bear — especially with what happened in the recent events.

the mood shifts slightly as you observe him quietly — he has resumed gazing out the window, though his expression is much softer now, his wings no longer bristling but relaxed. the golden halo behind him stabilizes, the light coming from the lights inside the party cart casting a faint glow that makes him look almost ethereal.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence. sunday still gazes into the galaxy beyond the window but he secretly listens to whatever you're about to say. “I’m not always about pranks — however, if you ever feel like talking about whatever’s on your mind, I can lend you an ear too.”

the young man turns his head toward you, his brows raise up a little in mild surprise. for a moment, he seems to study you, as if trying to gauge your sincerity — finally, he exhales, and a small, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

the response is brief but carries a surprising warmth that wasn’t there before. you nod in response, satisfied, and let the quietness stretch out again. maybe there’s more to sunday than meets the eye, and perhaps, in time, he’ll let you see a little more of what lies beneath his enigmatic exterior in the near future of trailblazing expeditions.

the sliding doors to the party car slide open suddenly, and ever-so bubbly march 7th bounces in as her ever-cheerful energy fills the space of the previous serene atmosphere. “hey! what’s going on in here? did I miss something fun?”

you almost can’t resist glancing at sunday with a small mischievous glint in your eye, the latter in question softly groans and shakes his head to himself.

“oh, really nothing much. I was merely giving our newest passenger a warm welcome.”

the bubblegum-haired girl glances between the two of you, a bit curious what the two of you were doing a bit earlier. “huh.. really though? because it looks like you were up to no good again.”

“awh— wait, me? never,” you tilt your head slightly as your voice takes on an exaggerated tone of mock-innocence. behind you, sunday exhales sharply and his eyes narrow as he pinches the bridge of his nose. march 7th crosses her arms, arching a brow before both of them briefly exchange a shared look — one that speaks volumes about their exasperation.

as the conversation shifts to lighter topics, the laughter and camaraderie in the room slowly build, filling the once-quiet space with warmth and life. even the young halovian seems to ease into the dynamic, his reserved nature softening just a bit as he listens to the banter around him.

in this moment, you realize that life aboard the astral express isn’t just about the journeys or the destinations — it’s about the people you share them with, the stories you create, and the bonds you forge along the way.

and as the stars continue to streak past outside into the milky way, you can’t help but feel that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

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p0orbaby · 2 months ago

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blurb idea- r is spanish and plays for arsenal, one day she finds leah on duolingo trying to learn spanish and finds it so sweet and leah is just emberrased and lalalla and then r convinces leah to let her teach leah spanish (sorry if it’s confusing😔😔)

it wasn’t confusing 🤍

The training ground is quiet, still wrapped in early-morning fog, and you don’t expect to hear anything but the hum of the groundskeeper’s mower. Instead, you catch a voice, stiff and deliberate, coming from the gym.

“Yo bebo… el agua?”

You pause at the door, peeking in. Leah’s standing by the weights, holding her phone at arm’s length like it might bite her. Her brow is furrowed, mouth moving around the clunky syllables like she’s trying to chew them into shape. You’re about to say something when she suddenly groans and yanks her headphones out. The familiar ding of Duolingo announcing another failed attempt echoes in the room.

“La niña’ what?” she mutters, more to herself than anyone else. She hasn’t noticed you yet. “How am I supposed to remember if she’s drinking milk or eating an apple? Who drinks milk anymore?”

“Leah?” you finally speak, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice.

Leah jumps, nearly dropping her phone. Her face turns pink immediately, the kind of flush that spreads to her ears and down her neck. “Oh, God. How long have you been standing there?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, even though you know perfectly well what you’ve walked into.

Leah groans, stuffing her phone into her hoodie pocket like the evidence of her crime can be erased. “Nothing”

You raise an eyebrow. “Nothing? Because it looked like you were arguing with Duolingo about la niña’s dietary habits.”

She flushes deeper, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing outright. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh? So you weren’t learning Spanish on the sly?”

“I—” she pauses, caught. “Alright, fine. I was. Happy?”

You grin, stepping into the room. “Why?”

She shrugs, looking everywhere except at you. “I thought it might… I don’t know, be nice? For you”

That catches you off guard. “For me?”

“Yeah.” She scratches the back of her neck, a telltale sign that she’s embarrassed. “Because, you know, you’re always switching between Spanish and English so easily, and I just thought maybe I could… I don’t know, keep up”

Your heart softens despite yourself. “You could’ve just asked me, you know. I’d have helped”

Leah shrugs, suddenly fascinated with the floor. “Didn’t want to bother you”

“You? Never a bother,” you say lightly, stepping closer. “But if you’d rather an app keep roasting you, be my guest”

Her gaze snaps to yours, the ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips. “The owl’s ruthless, by the way. Keeps telling me I’m on the verge of linguistic failure”

You laugh, taking her hand and pulling her towards the weights bench. “Alright, let’s make a deal. I’ll teach you Spanish, but you have to actually listen to me. None of this owl nonsense”

“Deal,” she says quickly, her grin breaking through the last of her embarrassment. “But only if you promise not to tell the team about this”

“Cross my heart,” you reply, though you’re already imagining the look on the rest of the teams faces if they found out.

You sit yourself on the bench next to her, and start to teach her the basics. As she repeats the words after you, her accent is a disaster, but the determination in her eyes is unmistakable. And when she finally gets a phrase right, the way she beams at you makes your chest feel warm.

If this is her way of showing how much she cares, you’ll take it. Even if it means enduring her tragic attempts at rolling her r’s.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader

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siriuslysmoking · 1 month ago

Note

eeeeeee ok so i’ve been reading a lot of ur stuff and i was wondering if u could write more blaise stuff?? maybe smut if ur comfortable but really whatever is fine. ty!!

Tied Together

Summary: After Voldemort had won the war, everything felt uneasy, being forced into a marriage wasn't in the plan, but after a war, nothing goes according to it.

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warning: Smut, breeding kink, pet names, forced marriage, name calling.], so many words, the summary sucks ASS, not edited cause I worked an 8 hr shift before I wrote this.

A/N: OFC BABES!! I spent all day trying to figure out what to write about! A classic trope with my own spin to it! This is a long one so buckle in.

Graduation was supposed to be exciting—a milestone filled with relief and hope. But instead, you sit stiffly at your assigned table in the Great Hall, your face carefully blank as the drone of Ministry officials announcing the newly mandated marriages fills the air. One by one, names are read aloud, paired off with cruel indifference.

You barely register the first half of the list, staring down at your clasped hands, the parchment crinkled beneath your fingertips. They go in alphabetical order, and as the names inch closer to your own, you feel your chest tighten. When they reach “X,” your name still hasn’t been called.

Then it happens.

“Blaise Zabini...” the official says, then finally it arrives, your name.

Your stomach drops.

Oh, fuck no.

Your head snaps up, unwilling to believe it, but there’s no denying the truth. Your eyes immediately find Blaise across the hall. He’s already looking at you, his sharp features unreadable save for the slight twitch in his lips—a subtle, disdainful reaction that speaks volumes.

Disgust. Of course.

After years of enduring his thinly veiled insults about your bloodline, his smirks whenever he edged you out for top marks, and the cold indifference he perfected whenever your paths crossed, this feels like the final humiliation. It could have been anyone else. Anyone. But fate—or, more likely, the twisted whims of the Ministry—had chosen Blaise Zabini.

You bite the inside of your cheek, determined not to let your emotions betray you. He, of course, looks as collected as ever, his face a mask of cool disinterest. But beneath it, you know he must be livid. No one in their right mind would want this, least of all him.

The thought offers little comfort as the reality of the situation settles over you. Graduation wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be your first step into freedom. Instead, it feels like the chains around you have only tightened.

The wedding was nothing like you’d imagined it would be.

Everything felt cold—the ancient stone walls of the ceremonial hall, the piercing stares of the pureblood guests seated behind you, and the delicate lace of your dress sticking uncomfortably to your damp skin. The enchanted candles floating above did nothing to dispel the oppressive atmosphere. Their soft glow felt harsh, illuminating every detail of this forced spectacle.

The officiant's droning voice blurred into the background as you stared straight ahead, refusing to meet Blaise Zabini’s gaze. He stood beside you, his posture perfect, his expression as unreadable as ever. If he was as horrified by this union as you were, he didn’t show it. His face was carved in cold indifference, as though this moment meant nothing to him.

You clenched your trembling hands together, the smooth lace gloves doing little to hide the anxiety coursing through you. The crowd’s eyes burned into your back, no doubt judging every move, every breath. Were they thrilled to see a half-blood like you bound to one of their own? Or were they disgusted by the pairing? You couldn’t tell, and you weren’t sure which possibility made you feel worse.

“Do you, Blaise Zabini, accept this bond as law dictates?” the officiant intoned, his voice sharp and unyielding.

There was a brief pause. You could feel Blaise shift slightly beside you.

“I do.” His voice was steady, emotionless.

The words felt like a knife, cutting away any hope you had that he might fight this, that he might object, that anyone might. But Blaise Zabini was no fool. He knew better than to challenge the Ministry.

“And do you," He spoke your name with no emotion, moving his eyes to you, "accept this bond as law dictates?”

Your throat tightened. The words felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you forced the response from your lips.

“I do.”

The officiant raised his wand, the tip glowing as he muttered the incantation that would seal your fates. You felt the magic take hold, wrapping around your wrist like an invisible shackle before fading into nothingness. It was done.

“And now,” the officiant said, a note of finality in his tone, “to seal the bond with a kiss.”

Your stomach lurched. You hadn’t forgotten this part, but you’d desperately hoped it would be skipped—maybe Blaise would refuse, or some exception would be made. But no, tradition demanded it.

Blaise turned to you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—a flicker of discomfort, or perhaps resentment. He leaned down, his movements slow and precise, giving you no time to brace yourself.

The kiss was brief, a mere press of lips against yours, cold and devoid of anything resembling affection. It felt more like a command than a gesture of unity. You fought the urge to flinch, standing rigidly until he pulled away.

As you parted, your lips tingled—not from passion, but from the bitter taste of obligation. You didn’t look at him, focusing instead on the floor as the crowd offered polite, stifled applause.

Blaise offered you his arm, as tradition dictated. You hesitated, staring at it as though it were a venomous snake. But with the weight of the crowd’s gaze pressing down on you, you relented, placing your gloved hand lightly atop his. His arm was rigid, his touch devoid of warmth.

As you walked back down the aisle together, the reality of your situation began to sink in. This wasn’t a wedding—it was a sentence. A chain around your neck that tied you to someone who didn’t want you, just as much as you didn’t want him.

And yet, as you glanced up at Blaise’s perfectly composed face, you couldn’t shake the thought that, behind his mask of indifference, he might feel just as trapped as you did.

The ceremony ended in a blur of cold stares and stifled applause. You and Blaise were whisked away to the government-mandated home—a pristine, lifeless manor nestled in the countryside. The house was grand and silent, its dark wood floors creaking underfoot, the high ceilings echoing every sound. The Ministry had spared no expense, making sure it was a perfect symbol of your forced union. But inside, the house felt empty, lifeless, like a cage waiting to trap you both.

The silence between you grew, stretching on for weeks. Blaise rarely spoke, his evenings spent reading by the fire or writing letters, while you kept yourself busy, avoiding him as best as you could. Meals were quiet, punctuated only by the clinking of silverware, your eyes avoiding each other at all costs. It was easier that way—no need to pretend things were normal when they were anything but.

But then, Blaise started to notice something.

You’d begun slipping out after dinner, your footsteps quiet on the wooden floors. At first, he didn’t think much of it, chalking it up to your desire for space. But after several nights, he grew curious. The rules were clear: infidelity, whether real or merely suspected, could be disastrous for both of you. He couldn’t afford for that to happen.

One night, he decided to follow you.

He trailed quietly behind you as you made your way out into the darkened streets, your silhouette framed by the flickering light of nearby lanterns. He kept a careful distance, just enough to not alert you, but close enough to see your every move. You stopped outside a small, hidden entrance, casting a quiet unlocking charm. Blaise hid behind a nearby wall, watching as you entered the building.

Inside, you were with a group of Muggle-borns—children, huddled together in fear. He saw you hand them food, speaking to them in soft, urgent tones. His chest tightened as he realized the danger you were putting yourself in. This wasn’t just reckless; it was beyond dangerous. If anyone found out, it wouldn’t just be you who suffered. He clenched his fists, his mind racing with thoughts of what could happen if this was exposed.

But he didn’t intervene. Instead, he silently backed away, leaving the scene without a word.

The next morning, Blaise said nothing. It would be easier that way. But something lingered in the air between you both—a silent acknowledgment that there was more to this union than either of you had anticipated.

The evening had dragged on longer than you'd anticipated, and with each passing minute, the weight of the silence between you and Blaise seemed to grow heavier. He’d been quiet for the most part, which was unusual for him, but you could feel his presence like a shadow at the edge of the room. You couldn’t focus on the book in your lap any longer, so you closed it with a soft snap and glanced at Blaise, who was lounging on the armrest of a chair, one leg hanging casually over the side, his eyes glinting with that signature arrogance.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” you said, trying to break the oppressive silence.

Blaise didn't look at you at first, his gaze still lazily fixed on the flickering fire. “Just trying to enjoy the peace and quiet, Mrs. Zabini.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and you could practically hear the mocking smile in his words.

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to dignify the title with a response. "You know, it’s not that hard to act like a human being once in a while."

Blaise’s head tilted just slightly, and you could tell he was assessing you. “Oh? You’re one to talk. You’ve spent more time hiding in this room than doing anything remotely… social.” He smirked at you, the usual edge in his voice.

“I don’t need your commentary, Blaise,” you shot back, crossing your arms tightly. “I’m just fine without it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your defensive tone. “Are you?” he asked, pushing himself off the armrest and taking a few steps toward you. “You don’t seem all that fine. Actually, you look more… miserable than usual.”

You stood up quickly, throwing the book on the nearby chair in frustration. "I’m perfectly fine, thanks for asking,” you bit out, voice sharp. “Not that I expect you to understand anything about personal space.”

He took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with that mix of amusement and challenge you were starting to despise. “Personal space?” He laughed, but it wasn’t a friendly sound—it was mocking, dismissive. “Are you really going to pretend like you’re not just avoiding me? You think I haven’t noticed?” He leaned in just a fraction, his face now inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re hiding, and it’s pathetic.”

You pushed him away, more out of irritation than actual force, but he didn’t budge. “I’m not hiding. I’m just... trying to deal with everything without tearing my hair out.”

He leaned back slightly, his posture still relaxed, but his gaze never wavered. “You’re so dramatic. It’s not like you’re the only one stuck in this mess.”

The words hit harder than you expected. “Don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying this,” you said, your voice lower, eyes narrowing. “I know you, Blaise. You thrive on this power.”

Blaise chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a smirk. “What, you think I enjoy being shackled to you? Please.” He stepped back, just enough to give you some space, but the mocking look never left his face. “You’re the one who can’t handle the fact that you’re stuck here with me, and it’s funny to watch.”

Your eyes flashed with anger, and before you could stop yourself, you snapped, “Funny? You think I’m enjoying this too? It’s not a bloody game, Blaise. I have other things to do, but no, instead, I’m stuck here with you and your... smug face. Every damn day.”

Blaise’s expression darkened slightly, but he quickly masked it with another smirk. “Is that so? You don’t like being stuck with me? I guess that’s a shame. I was just beginning to think maybe we weren’t so different after all.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered, turning away from him as you grabbed the book off the chair again, though you had no intention of reading it. You just needed something to hold on to, something to distract yourself from the tension in the room.

But Blaise wasn’t done yet. He followed you, close enough that you could feel his presence like a weight on your back. “You know, if you weren’t so hell-bent on hating me, we might actually get along,” he teased, his voice low, almost too calm. “But no, you’ve got this chip on your shoulder, don’t you? I can’t imagine why.”

You spun around, finally losing your patience. “Maybe I have a chip on my shoulder because you have been the biggest pain in my arse for the past several years. You think I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend like everything’s fine?”

Blaise smirked, his posture still languid as he leaned against the doorframe, eyes flicking lazily over you. “You’ve got a temper, don’t you? I like it.”

Your jaw clenched, and you resisted the urge to lash out at him physically. Instead, you just glared at him. “What do you want, Zabini?”

He raised both hands in mock surrender, though the smirk never left his lips. “Nothing at all. I’m just trying to figure you out, that’s all. You’re so... prickly, it’s almost charming.” He looked at you as if you were some kind of puzzle to solve, his gaze calculating but with an edge of amusement.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable. I’m not one of your little games, Blaise.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you two, thick with the unspoken tension. Then, with one last glance, Blaise straightened and pushed off the doorframe, his lips still twitching with a smirk.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he said, turning to leave, but his words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. “You’ll get used to it, eventually.”

You stood there, fists clenched, watching him leave, knowing that every word he said stung a little more than you wanted to admit.

The ballroom was grand, the air thick with perfume and whispers, swirling with the clinking of glasses and the soft shuffle of shoes against polished floors. You stood at the edge, feeling every bit the outsider in this glittering sea of purebloods, all dressed in their finest, exchanging polite smiles and subtle glances.

And then there was Blaise Zabini.

He moved through the crowd like a shadow, effortlessly commanding attention. His dark suit seemed tailor-made for him, perfectly fitting, and yet somehow, he managed to look entirely unbothered by the extravagance of the event. He caught sight of you standing alone near the columns, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he sauntered over, a slight smirk on his lips.

“Enjoying yourself, love?” he asked, his voice low and laced with mockery. His dark eyes glinted, a subtle challenge in his gaze as he came to stand beside you.

You shot him a withering look. “Oh, absolutely,” you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve always dreamed of this—trapped in a room full of people who wouldn’t spit on me if I were on fire.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your response. He leaned closer, just enough for his breath to tickle your ear. “Careful, darling. Someone might think you’re not as happy to be here as you should be.”

You stiffened, your jaw tightening. You hated how he seemed to know exactly how to needle you. “And why would that be, Blaise? You think I’m thrilled to be married to you?”

His smirk widened. “I can’t imagine why not. I’m quite the catch.” He spun on his heel, eyes scanning the room as if seeking someone else’s attention. “But I suppose you’d prefer to be alone, wouldn’t you? No one to witness your charming temper or—”

"Why don’t you keep that smug mouth shut for once?" you snapped, your patience thinning. "You’ve been making my life miserable for years, and I’m just supposed to stand here and pretend like everything’s fine?"

Blaise’s lips quirked upward again, clearly enjoying the moment. “Oh, I’m not making you miserable. You’re doing that all on your own, darling.”

A tight laugh escaped you. “How generous of you.”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “It’s true, you know. You’ve always been a bit of a walking disaster, haven’t you?”

“Right,” you said, cutting him off before he could continue. “And I suppose I should thank you for pointing that out. Because nothing says ‘I love you’ quite like constant criticism.”

Blaise glanced down at his watch, as if toying with the idea of leaving. "Perhaps you should take a walk with me, then. Just to show me how 'miserable' you are," he said, his voice suddenly softer, but the teasing edge never quite leaving it.

You narrowed your eyes, unsure of his intention. "I’m sure I’d rather chew glass, but thank you for the offer."

He chuckled, clearly unbothered by your sarcasm. “You know, it’s almost cute how you think you have any control in this marriage."

“Control?” you scoffed. “You think I have control over this—this farce?” You looked around the room, where the pureblood elite swirled around you, pretending to be so important, so dignified. You leaned in slightly, keeping your voice low. “You’re just as stuck here as I am. So don’t act like you’re above me.”

Blaise studied you for a moment, his dark eyes piercing. “Oh, I’m not above you. But I know one thing,” he said, his voice a little quieter now. “You’re just as trapped as I am, and no amount of pretending will change that.”

You held his gaze, anger and something else bubbling just beneath the surface. “You’re right,” you muttered, swallowing hard. “But at least I’m not pretending to enjoy it.”

Blaise smirked again, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Oh, I’m enjoying it just fine.”

Before you could snap back, the music shifted, signaling a new dance. Blaise extended his hand to you, his fingers elegantly poised, his expression unreadable.

"Shall we?" he asked, his voice low and purposeful.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing around the ballroom. The gaze of everyone in the room felt oppressive, their judgment hovering just over your shoulder. Finally, you sighed, taking his hand begrudgingly.

The moment your hand touched his, you felt the shift in the air. It wasn’t the soft, graceful kind of dance you were used to; no, this was more like a carefully calculated battle. He led you into the center of the floor, his steps sure and steady, as you struggled to keep up with the quick pace he set.

“Not so good at this, are you?” Blaise teased, his lips curling into a smile that bordered on cruel. “I thought you were supposed to be the top student.”

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to focus on the steps, trying to ignore the way his hand on your waist felt far too possessive. “I don’t see you dancing with anyone else, Zabini. So, what’s your excuse?”

“Oh, I have many,” he replied with a smirk, twirling you just a little too sharply, making you stumble for a moment before you regained your balance. “I think it’s just funny how you always act like you’re in control.”

“I am in control,” you snapped, meeting his gaze with as much venom as you could muster.

“Prove it,” he murmured, pulling you a little closer, his hand slipping just a little too low on your back. The move was calculated, deliberate, meant to make you uncomfortable. You couldn’t deny the rush of irritation that swirled through you, and the way your heart sped up—not from desire, but from the sheer frustration of being so close to him.

The music swirled around you, the other couples gliding effortlessly, while you and Blaise stumbled through every step, each move filled with tension and hostility.

“You know,” Blaise said with that infuriating smirk, “if you spent as much time trying to enjoy yourself as you do trying to be miserable, this wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” you retorted, voice tight, “if you weren’t so insufferable.”

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’ll get used to me. You’re already halfway there, I can tell.”

You shivered, unwilling to admit he might be right. The dance continued—awkward, tense, filled with barely contained animosity, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew he was right.

As much as you hated it, you and Blaise were in this together. And no amount of mean teasing or cold shoulders would change that.

The dinner at the Zabini estate had begun like any other—polished silver gleaming under the soft light, crystal glasses catching the flicker of candle flames. You sat at the long, elegantly set table, Blaise beside you, his mother across, smiling as if she had rehearsed this moment in her mind for weeks. There was a quiet anticipation in the air, and you could feel it, even if nothing had been said yet.

Blaise’s mother—always so poised and calculating—wasn't one for pleasantries when it came to matters that truly mattered. She had a way of making the most innocuous conversations feel like high-stakes negotiations. Tonight, though, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that this dinner was meant for more than just food and idle chatter.

Finally, after a few rounds of safe topics—politics, the harvest, and the state of the family business—she cleared her throat, setting her glass down carefully.

“I trust you both are well,” she began, her tone a bit too casual, almost as if testing the waters. “But there’s something we must discuss. It’s time we talk about the future, about the next generation.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Blaise, but his expression remained unreadable, as always. His mother had been hinting at this conversation for months, and you had a sinking feeling you knew where it was heading.

Her voice softened as she continued, a subtle but deliberate note of authority in her words. “As you know, the Zabini family is quite… traditional in some ways. One of those traditions, which we hold in the highest regard, is the continuation of our bloodline.”

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise. You could feel Blaise stiffen beside you, and the air in the room shifted, thick with the weight of what she was about to say.

“By law,” she continued, her eyes locking onto yours, “every couple of noble standing is required to have at least one child. It is not simply a preference. It’s a requirement.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had been prepared for this, but the weight of her words hit you harder than you expected.

Blaise’s mother leaned back in her chair, watching you closely. “It’s the law of the land now. For families of status, it is a non-negotiable expectation. The bloodline must be preserved. It is your duty as a couple, as future heads of your respective houses, to ensure the continuation of that legacy.”

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. The idea that you—both of you—were being forced into such a decision was infuriating, and yet, you knew it was coming. This wasn’t just a suggestion. This was an ultimatum.

“I’m not having a child,” you said, your voice cool but steady, every word sharp with defiance. You looked at Blaise for support, but his expression remained unreadable. You could feel the tension building between you and his mother, but you refused to look away.

His mother’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it seemed to tighten, like a mask slipping into something more calculated.

“You misunderstand,” she said, her voice smooth but sharp. “This is not a choice, darling. The law is quite clear. You will have one child. You are obligated to, for the good of both families.”

Blaise shifted uncomfortably beside you, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t speak. His mother was an immovable force, and he was used to navigating these conversations. You, however, had never been good at swallowing injustice.

“You can’t force us to have a child,” you said firmly, trying to keep your voice steady. “This world is a prison. We can’t bring a life into it, not when it’s nothing but a chain around its neck. Not when—” you broke off, your voice rising in frustration. “This is insane.”

His mother’s smile remained, but the edge in her eyes darkened. “The law is the law,” she said, her tone final. “It is non-negotiable. And let’s be clear: failure to comply with the law has consequences. I’m sure you understand the weight of those consequences, dear.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. The truth was clear. Refusing to comply with the law meant more than just a personal choice—it meant rebellion. It meant a loss of status, a severing of ties with everything you had ever known. The weight of it pressed down on your chest, but your resolve didn’t waver.

“I’m not going to be forced into this,” you replied, trying to ignore the heavy thrum of your pulse in your ears. “I won’t be part of a system that treats life like a commodity.”

Her gaze never wavered, cold and calculating. “You may think you have a choice now,” she said quietly, her words like ice, “but soon you’ll realize there is no escaping this. Not for you. Not for Blaise.”

You turned to him, finally meeting his eyes, searching for some sign of agreement, some flicker of support. But he only looked tired, resigned. He knew the stakes, perhaps better than anyone.

“You don’t have to agree with it,” his mother continued, her smile returning, sharp as ever. “But you will comply. It’s for the family, for the legacy. For the future.”

The silence stretched for a long moment before Blaise spoke, his voice low. “We’ll do what we have to.”

But even as he said it, the bitterness hung in the air, heavy with the understanding that, in the end, there was no real choice. There was no escape. And as much as you wanted to fight it, you knew it wasn’t a battle you could win.

The law was clear. You would have to have a child. There was no way around it.

And the thought of it made your stomach churn.

When you both arrive at the house it feels cold, even with the fire lit it still doesn't feel like a home. You go to head to your seperate room, but you stop in the middle of the staircase. "We'll do what we have to do?"

You turn to look at him as he takes his coat off, "What did you want me to say?"

"I didn't want to speak for me." You huff, walking back down the stairs meeting him in the middle of the foyer.

"You are my wife, I am your husband, we speak for each other." He shakes his head, it feels almost demeaning.

"You do not speak for me."

"So what you want to get locked up? Them to make us have a child?"

"I'm not scared of them."

"You should be." He speaks softly, "I am. You don't know what they're capable of."

"I know! You think I don't! They killed my friends, forced me into marrying you under the threat of death!" You raise your voice.

"That's just the fucking start." He rubs his hands on the back of his neck. "Listen, I may not like you as much as I should with you being my wife and all, but that doesn't mean I want you to die."

"God, that's the sweetest thing someone has ever said to me." You roll your eyes. You turn to move back up the stairs.

"Where are you going? We're not done with this conversation." He follows you up the stairs.

"What you want, getting it over with." You enter your room as he still follows you. You start unzipping your dress, he makes a noise and you see him turn around.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He looks towards the door.

"You're gonna get me pregnant, so we don't die or whatever."

"Not like this." He sighs, holding his head in his hands.

"Jeez, Zabini, never seen a girl naked before?"

He just lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "Turn around." He shakes his head. You take a step towards him, your hands on his shoulders, "Blaise, look at me."

He reluctantly turns around, when he faces you he tries to keep his eyes on your face but he can't help but let his gaze trace your frame. You stand there only in your underwear, totally vulnerable in front of him. "This is doing what he have to do, Blaise."

You move your hand to his jaw, to guide his eyes back to your own. "This can't be why we do it."

"Then think of something else, someone else, it doesn't matter." You shrug, even through the thought of him thinking of someone else is gut wrenching to you.

"I can't." His plead sounds so desperate, so light. Suddenly you think you've crossed a line, something you can never come back from. You move back but his hands shoot back to you, holding your waist, pushing your body against his. "I can't think of anyone but the person I really want."

"Wha-" You go to speak, but he pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

He lifts you up in his arms, turning around so he can hold you up against the door. You start to unbutton his shirt as he moves his thumb back and forth on the back of your thighs. He turns around and crawls on his knees up the bed with you still in his arms, he sets you down softly, and crawls down your body with his lips.

"Fuck, you're beautiful." He murmurs into your skin, you groan and push your body into his lips. "Get it over with, my fucking ass. Imma take my time with you."

"Try not to take too long?"

"Oh? Are you feeling needy today?"

"Use your mouth for something better than talking." You grab the back of his neck and pull his back up to your lips. He laughs into you are he slowly- too slowly, taking off his clothes. "Blaise, I swear if you don't do something I will kick you out of my room."

He chuckles again and releases his cock out of the confines of his pants, "Already ready for me, Darlin? Such a good girl."

You moan into his mouth as you feel the tip of his cock toy with your entrance. You buck your hips in the air, making it slip into you even more, "You greedy lil' thing, huh?"

"Zabini." You growl, looking at him with heavy eyes.

"Yes?" He smirks up at you.

"Shut your mouth." You grab his jaw tightly.

"As you wish, princess."

He enters you with a force and a groan, you just lay there and feel every single inch, every single vein and curve. He sits inside of you without moving, letting you settle, but you decide that he's taking too long and you flip yourself over so you're sitting on top of him.

Blaise throws his head back at the site of you, you place your hands on his stomach as he places his on your hips, guiding you back and forth in a rocking motion. He leans up and puts his chest up to your front as he starts to whisper encouraging words in your ear, feeling you up and down, grabbing your ass, helping you move.

"Let go f'me, sweetheart." He sounds drunk on you, as you can. feel him letting go. "Gonna put a baby in you."

"Fuck, do it." You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck. You feel his release inside of you and you finally let yourself go as well.

You both fall to your backs as Blaise uses his shirt to clean you up. Once he settles back into bed he finally speaks, "Wanna talk about it?"

"Tomorrow, I'm tired." Your falling asleep on his chest and he's completely content with that in this moment.

When Blaise wakes up he moves his arm to feel your body but all he feels a cold sheet next to him. He gets up and puts on his underwear to walk down to the kitchen, figuring you'd be there. Only to see dishes in the sink and an empty house. He knocks on the bathroom door, looking for you.

He turns the entire house upside down, looking for you, but with no luck he doesn't find you anywhere. He decides that maybe you went somewhere and forgot to leave him a note. He makes breakfast for himself, but there's a bad feeling in his gut, but he knows it's probably all in his head.

But when the clock turns to noon, then to three... when the sun goes down is when Blaise finally lets himself worry, he writes letters to everyone he knows. His last resort is those Muggles in town, when no one knows where you are he heads to the abandoned house. He doesn't know the incantation so he just desperately knocks, when he receives no answer, he heads pathetically back home.

On his walk back home he notices a tray of food on the ground. Then the bad feeling finally lands, something is wrong, something is so wrong.

When he arrives back home after looking all over the streets and alleys he finally walks inside to see a brown owl set on a perch.

He knows the code name, Draco and him have been using it for months, passing information back and forth from the ministry, keeping each other in the know.

He grab anything, he drops the letter and runs to the floo network.

He arrives at the Ministry after a sickening trip. He walks fast, but not too fast to be suspicious.

Blaise works his way to the elevator only to find a familiar face when he walks in. Rodolphus Lestrange sends him a sneer. Ever since the Zabini’s decided to be a neutral party during the war they don’t have too many friendly faces in the ministry.

“What brings you here, Zabini.” Rodolphus sounds accusing.

He doesn’t speak too quickly, not wanting to raise suspicion. “"I’m looking into some old family records in the Department of Magical Transportation. Family business, you understand, I’m sure."

“I do.” The rest of the ride is silent, just sneaky glances from Rodolphus to Blaise, he can tell the man doesn’t believe him, but at this moment he doesn’t care.

Once it lands on Rodolphus’ stop and the man slowly exits, Blaise can finally let out a breath.

He tries to calm his breathing as he walks out on level 2, Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Blasie makes his way down a long, cold, dark hallway, trying to walk like he belongs here, which he absolutely does not. After turning a corner he sees one of the only friendly faces here.

"I can't go in with you." Blaise understands why Draco can't help him, he's already doing too much, he's jeopardizing so much just by letting him in. Blaise nods, giving him a look of gratitude. "78."

After opening the door, Draco walks the opposite direction of the door.

Blaise feels like he's walking for years, one number after another.

75...

76...

77...

78, he finally sees the number he's looking for. He tries to hear through the door, but he knows it would be no use. He just opens the door and what his eyes spot is something he couldn't even imagine. You are shackled from the ceiling, almost unconscious, he would think you were dead if he didn't here your laboured breathing.

His hands start to shake as he approaches you, he speaks your name softly, You try to lift your head, trying to look at him, but you can't smother the energy to do so. "I'm getting you out of here."

But he didn't think of a plan, he has no idea how he's going to do that

He uses the only spell he can think of to get the shackles off of you wrists, then he grabs you, wrapping your body around him. When he walks you out the door he hears echoing footsteps coming from behind him.

Instead of going the way he came he moves the other way, away from the entrance. He walks faster and faster as the footsteps get closer. He finds an office and hurriedly hides in there. God, luck is on his side today. There's a floo network in the office, he hurriedly floos back to your house, but he knows neither of you are safe there.

When he gets back to your house, he sees someone he hasn't seen in years sitting on his couch. Hermione Granger meets his eyes, "Granger, wha-"

"Draco sent me, I have a safe house for you." She stands and walks over to you both.

"I don't understand." Blaise shakes his head, looking to you.

"It's time you finally meet The Resistance."

Reblogs and Likes are appreciated

#blaise zabini x you #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #blaise x reader #blaise zabini smut #blaise zabini imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter headcanon #hp fanfic #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts #wizarding world #voldemort #rodolphus lestrange #slytherin boys x reader

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amongemeraldclouds · 10 months ago

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Firewhiskey Confessions

After drinking to cope with your heartbreak, you find a reliable confidante to spill your guts to. Except, he is not who he seems.

Soft!Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warning: alcohol, fluff, no use of y/n

Author’s note: Just a silly idea, this is unserious. Official entry for @thatdammchickennugget's Hogmarch challenge, prompt 2.

✿ Masterlist | 810 words

I never drank. Obviously, anyone can do what they want with their kidneys. I just didn’t like the idea of slurring my words or tilting gravity for fun, and I preferred to keep my mind sharp.

And yet, my world had tilted anyway without alcohol to blame.

As for my sharp mind? Well, here at Mattheo’s birthday party, all that precious sharp mind has done is hack away at my heart. So screw it. I need a drink.

I grab a shot of firewhiskey as a tray passes by and down it in one gulp, wincing. Well, no one drinks alcohol for its taste. I shake it off and move to the nearest tray for another shot.

Five shots in, I feel flushed and ready for gravity to tilt, a familiar occurrence at this point. I sneak off to another room when I see Mattheo greeting his guests, laughter pealing and glasses clinking. Everyone is having a great time. Yay!

In the quiet of the receiving area, I wrap my arm across a coated gentleman for support. “Avoiding the party too, huh?”

When he doesn’t reply, I continue. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not judging you. You see I,” I say, pointing at myself for emphasis, “am avoiding Mattheo. Why did I come to his party only to avoid him, you ask? Well one might say, I don’t make very smart decisions.”

I blink, trying to catch my train of thought.

“You seem to be a very good listener,” I ponder, bringing my face closer to his shoulder since he’s too tall for me to reach his ear. “Can I tell you a secret? But ssshhhh you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.”

“I’m in love with Mattheo Riddle and I screwed it all up. Last week, he kissed me during a game of spin the bottle and I just knew there was nothing friendly about the kiss. So what did I do? Confess my long harbored feelings for my best friend like an emotionally intelligent woman?”

“Pssh, nah,” I wave it off.

“Remember, I don’t make smart decisions. What I did was ignore him for a week and then act like nothing happened. By the time I stopped ignoring him, he already had a girlfriend so I’m avoiding him again. I’ll spare you the details, but she’s wonderful. Can’t even hate her if I tried. They’re going to make gorgeous pureblood babies and live happily ever after. I’m so happy for them, but why couldn’t it have been me?” I hiccup.

“Answer me,” I poke at his side.

Instead, I hear an amused voice behind me. “Why are you talking to a coat?”

“I’m not talking to a coat, you’re talking to a coat,” I turn and point at…oh, Mattheo.

“Darling, why are you drinking?” He says, moving towards me.

I blink. “Why do you think I’m talking to a coat?”

“Because you are,” he deadpans.

Oh. I step back and take a good look at my companion. I sway and Mattheo catches me. “Why do you hang your coats on mannequins instead of racks like everyone else?”

“In case you didn’t notice, I live in a mansion. Not like everyone else either,” he explains patiently like he’s talking to a child.

“Come on, you’re drunk. Let’s take you to my room to rest,” he says guiding me.

I focus my attention on staying upright. When we reach his room, he helps me lay down his bed and hands me a glass of water to help me sober up.

“How much of that did you hear?” I ask when my mind clears up a little.

“Do you want the truth or do you want to save yourself from embarrassment?” He asks.

I groan and bury my head in my hands.

He places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Well if you must know, I don’t have very friendly feelings towards you either, it’s more than that. But when you started ignoring me, I thought you didn’t like me.”

I look at him then and tilt my head, confused.

“Darling, if you stopped avoiding me, I would have very easily told you that I’m only fake dating to help save a friend from a toxic ex-boyfriend,” he explains.

“Wait,” I feel the gears in my head spinning. It’s rusty, but we’re getting there. “So you don’t have a girlfriend and you’re in love with me too?”

“In short, yes,” he says gently.

“Huh,” I grin. “That worked out well, I should drink more.”

“Absolutely not,” Mattheo protests. And then, “really? That’s your takeaway?” He shakes his head, covering me with the blanket.

I close my eyes with a satisfied smile and sink into the soft, cozy sheets. As I drift off to sleep, I distantly hear Mattheo say, “get rest, we’ll talk more tomorrow,” and faintly feel him kiss my forehead.

#hogmarch challenge #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheoxreader #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys #hp fanfic #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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writing-makes-me-human · 2 years ago

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🌊Love And Guests🌊

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Aonung x reader

PART TWO: HERE

Summary: Aonung has put out your usual sass with his recent flirting and it’s driving you insane. When he finally gets to speak with you alone as he shows off his spear throwing expertise it gets heated quickly

Warnings: Sexual tension and heated word choices, no smut but it gets close, mention of genitals

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: No updates, I’m getting back into writing after months of breaks so I’m sorry if i’m rusty. Also I feel like it goes without saying that Aonung is of age in all of my writing. I am not just writing about a minor, you are close in age. 19 years old.

┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙

"I still don't know why you think it's better that I teach you instead of my brother", Tsireya warmly suggested as she handed you a beginner's spear to practice with.

"Because I want to learn from the best", was all you managed to say as you took the spear in your hands and inspected it with wandering hands.

The real reason you were so eager to meet up with Tsireya instead of Aonung was laughable. Aonung had been playing a dangerous game with your feelings, making you feel a way you shouldn't to fuel your thoughts about the chief's son. Avoiding the brat to the best of your abilities for weeks now was the only way you could fight the fact you were slowly starting to become infatuated with the boy that was growing into a young man.

He had become cocky now that he was of age, and while he still had a few years of learning left before becoming chief, it had become clear his training was making him more and more defined. The way his body moved with every hearty laugh or every faux wrestling match with his friends drove you up the wall, so you decided it was best to try and stop seeing him altogether.

However, this was becoming a challenge as he had recently decided to spend more of his free time harassing you than anyone else. It was very confusing, as you thought you had put this bullying behind you when you were children. That could easily be forgotten, though, as he was indeed still the next leader, and that could explain his rudeness, but what couldn't be helped was the blush that overgrew you every time he towered over you with that smirk that he didn't know affected you in such unforgiving ways.

"Well, thank you, I'm flattered", she giggled, then continued, "but Aonung is the top in the clan at spear throwing, and he's not gonna be happy if he finds out you asked me instead of him", she never felt bad for her brother. Still, when it came to the matter of his undying yet, painfully expressed crush on you, she felt merciful.

You scoffed, squaring yourself next to her as you looked towards the targets drawn on the ground.

The target range for spear-throwing was closer to the village than any of the other training areas because you needed the clear ground to allow a large windup for hurling the stick through the air. It was still private, which you enjoyed because you had a feeling this was going to be an embarrassingly miserable display of physical prowess.

The targets were set up in the distance and made up of 3 circles of fine white sand sprinkled in precise shapes on the ground. Tsireya had already collected the sand earlier in the day and laid out the rings in exchange for you to be the one that churned the sand into the dirt when you were done so the next person who came to train could easily set up the rings and get started.

"I don't think I could handle his smugness at having me asking him a favor", you smiled at her, holding up the spear like you had seen Aonung and his friends do when they came here to learn when you were younger.

It was the truth. Honestly, you wouldn't have been able to handle his smug looks or laugh or the fact that to teach you meant one on one time by yourselves. You would prefer being lectured by Ronal, and that was saying something.

She nodded, trying to copy you as she held up the pointed end of the spear into the air, getting herself ready to fling the wooden spike. The artillery was too large for her, and you watched in curiosity as she heaved it up a little higher with a grunt.

"Alright, so what you want to do is pull back and using your back leg, you want to push--" she was cut off by the sound of laughter in the near vicinity. Before she could resume her instructions, you heard the sound of foliage and leafs being broken as a group of four boys emerged into the clearing, each of them but one with their spears by their side.

Aonung was still laughing at something Rotxo had said, but when he looked up and saw you, with your arms still raised as his sister mirrored you, he felt his heart skip a beat and his face light up with delight.

You cursed under your breath and dropped the stick like it was a venomous snake, instantly turning around to hide your slightly tinged face.

This was so unfair! He hadn't even said anything so far. All he had done was smile and laugh! He never had this much of a hold on you when he was younger. As he got older and his hair grew past his shoulders, and his muscles became larger, you became less aware of what to do with yourself.

"I have to go", you mumbled, feeling the tinge fade as you turned to pick up the burlap sack you had brought with you and leave for the village.

"Well, what is going on here?" Aonung called out in the conceited tone he saved for when he was talking to you. His deep voice boomed around the clearing, forcing its way into your ears and silencing the chatter between his other friends.

You didn't respond and instead made your way in the opposite direction they had come from, but before you could escape, a few words were yelled out, making your face nearly melt off your skull and onto the floor below you.

"Somewhere to be, pretty girl?" Aonung called out while his friends spread out, tossing down their training gear and lunches they had packed in preparation for a few hours of training.

You turned sharply, trying to calm your breathing so the blood would move from the gathering in your cheeks down to your heart which desperately needed the extra help because the poor thing was beating overtime.

"Just remembered I have somewhere to be", you said rather awkwardly, not allowing yourself to come across as timid but not quite having the energy to yell back at him with the same enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on! You said you wanted to learn from the best, and he's right here!" Tsireya spoke. She lay down her spear next to yours and jogged up to you. She grinned as she gently tugged on your hand, coaxing you to come and stand to talk to the boys who were checking over their weapons.

You sighed, then gave in, dropping the sack and letting her drag you over to Aonung, who was still standing in the same spot. As you walked over, he had a proud smile etched on his face, and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off.

Your face dropped so you could look anywhere but into his eyes that would have caught you in his dangerous trap of good looks and gentle teasing and never let you go.

"Come on, teach her!" Tsireya was far too excited, nearly jumping up and down while her older brother rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who said I wanted to help?" He snarkly asked, then continued, "and next time you're thinking of using my spear, ask!" He spat, gesturing to the spike that was laid on the ground rather carelessly. That cleared up the question of why the spear had nearly tipped her over when she held it up.

She elbowed him roughly in the chest with her free arm causing him to bend down a little in pain and scowl at her, but no sound of agony came out.

He quickly straightened himself and snarled at Tsireya, but she gave him a pointed look before her eyes darted to you several times. After a few seconds, he finally got her unspoken threat and sighed, pushing past the both of you to walk over to collect his projectile.

You ignored the feeling of his hand burning on your shoulder as he pushed between you two, breaking the hold Tsireya had on you.

"Come on, pretty girl, let's see what you can do", he called out, not bothering to turn around because he knew you'd be following.

You looked over to Tsireya before you elbowed her yourself, questioning her with a look. She knew you didn't want to speak with him, yet here he was and instead of ushering him away, she had insisted he teaches you.

She simply shrugged at you and pushed you forward before running off to sit next to her brother's friends.

You passed by Rotxo and nodded to him in greetings which he returned before tucking into the fruits he had brought with him. He was chatting with his friends, who all found a spot under a nearby tree that was far enough away from the targets that they wouldn't hear you and Aonung's words to each other but still close enough that they could still see any funny failings.Your eyes settled on Aonung's back, and you took a deep breath, you didn't even have the shame to look away when he crouched down and picked up his spear, checking it over for dirt or marks.

"You watch me first, then you try", he said, glancing over to see you were watching him with eyes slightly wide at the idea of trying to copy his expert throw with an audience.

He smiled at you, which caused you to blush and break the stare you had been holding on his body, which only made him grin, thus continuing the terrible cycle.

"Eyes on me, nobody else is watching, so you can look at me as much as you want", he called you out with a smirk when you finally scowled, giving him a reaction that he couldn't help but chuckle at.

"I worry for anybody that enjoys looking at you", you hissed while taking a step back, knowing he would have to have some space to move when he threw the spike.

He didn't say anything this time but didn't have to. His eyes spoke for him as they shone like the sea on a sunny day.

"So she speaks! I was beginning to worry!" He watched you roll your eyes in amusement with a slight smile on your face, and he silently swore at himself in his head for turning so you wouldn't see his sly grin that he only got when he made you happy.

"Let's start", he wasted no more time and held the wooden stick over his head. You watched with slightly awestruck eyes as his body moved so purposefully.

He raised the spear, and using his other arm, he aimed to secure the direction he was throwing in. He could feel your eyes on him, and it made him cocky. He wanted to show off, to show you he was strong and worthy of praise.

He pulled back his left leg, then after taking a breath, he threw it with as much strength as it took to land directly in the centre of the target. They were far closer than he usually had them, but it was to be expected since you were a beginner.

The weapon shot through the air before the sharp spearhead dug into the ground with a thud, landing directly in the centre of the most petite ring. A perfect bullseye.

He leaned back with a satisfied grin. He turned to look at you with the hopes you would be at least slightly impressed. You were still staring, mouth open in an 'o' shape, struck somewhat by just how gifted at the sport he was, and it made a part of his internal body tingle when you turned with the look changing from amazement to an affectionate smile.

"I'll admit you aren't bad, I've seen worse", you couldn't help the smile anymore. He always had a way of killing off your anxiety, and right now was no different. His cocky grin made your heart speed up, but your mind just wanted to insult him until he dropped.

"If that's all it takes to impress you, I am afraid to know how easy it is to please you", he took no shame in his words, and your smile quickly dropped to embarrassed growls as you hid your face, turning to look over at his friends that were all talking to Tsireya about something at the same time. The discussion looked heated, and none of them paid attention to you two.

You watched, eyes as focused as ever.

"Arrogant brat", was all you could get out as you looked down at your feet and kicked at the dirt.

"Oh, did I touch a nerve? I didn't know you were such a goody-goody", he didn't wait for your smart-ass answer and walked off to tug his spear out of the ground sharply. Your mind was reeling as you heard a soft grunt escape his lips as he yanked his prize out of the ground.

You shook your head and bent down to pick up the training spear you had been given, not taking notice of your position that had your back to the sky until you felt a hand smack into your backside harshly.

The slap was loud, making your face turn scarlet red as you jumped up, abandoning the spike to glare at Aonung with a death stare.

You were shocked, he had never been so bold with his teasing, and while it wouldn't have crossed a line had you been alone, you could feel the four pairs of eyes gawking at the back of your head.

"Don't", you gently warned. You didn't want to admit it, and you knew it was wrong, and the pompous imp should have been ashamed of himself, Aonung should have been on his hands and knees begging to be forgiven, but a part of your brain was fighting not to jump his bones right now and embarrass him in front of his friends.

And he dared to look proud of himself as he laughed at your face, raising his hand in a half-assed attempt to hide the smile while you geared up to smack him across the face.

He noted how livid you looked and sighed. He hadn't meant to offend you. But when he was walking back and saw how your ass was staring at him like that, he couldn't resist the temptation.

"All right, I'm sorry" he held his hands up in surrender as a beam of playfulness poured from his eyes as a flirtatious grin overtook him.

"If you want to touch my body, ask, coward", you bit back, letting yourself grin as he took his turn of letting his mouth go slack at your actions.

"What's wrong pretty boy? Need some help?" you chuckled, nodding your head south. His eyes followed yours with a confused quirk on his brow as he looked down, and his eyes widened as he nervously took in that he had a half chub under his loin cloth.

You took a step back from him, feeling the heat between your legs signal it was time to go before you made some terrible mistakes that led you both behind a tree somewhere doing things you wanted to make him wait for.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, and as you felt the roles reversing, you suddenly understood why Aonung found the teasing so fun.

He looked back up at your smug face and peeked toward the group behind you with a silent plea in his eyes. Don't drag their attention down to his excitement.

"You need to learn some manners, Aonung, it's not becoming of the next chief to be so blatant in public, you've really hurt my feelings", you gave a dramatic exaggeration of a pout to him while your hands came to lay on your heart.

He was blocked from the sight line of his peers by where you were standing, but one step to the left or right and even from this distance, it was undeniable that he was hard.

He hadn't moved to cover his crotch yet but he dropped the spear, staring at you with begging eyes. It seemed that your sudden 360 from being a blushed-out lovesick moron to a vengeful demon had done nothing to ease him down, if anything, you made it worse.

You leaned forward, taking great pleasure in standing on your feet a little to get even with his ear, your hot breath panted onto his neck and he couldn't do anything to stop you. One move, and you'd be exposing him to his closest friends.

"Compared to me, I think it's you that's easy to please", you smiled, and he hated how he could feel the heat from your mouth as your teeth came so close to his neck that it drove him mad.

You quickly pulled away and smiled when you saw his eyes were closed, he was focusing on his breathing like he had you doing from his actions so many times before, and it felt so good to see him like this. A grown man that was bigger than you in every way imaginable was trying to calm his breath over you and your words.

"Well, this has been fun, but I'll see you later, Aonung", you felt confident for the first time in weeks and slowly, you felt the old you coming back, the sarcastic you that had just as much bark in you as Aonung.

You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him, not quite flush against his body, lest one of the others looked up again and saw you two so close.

"Wait a few minutes, then follow me", he didn't give you the time to reply once again as he picked up the spear and finally had the dignity to cover himself with his free hand before walking off to go deeper into the forest without so much as a glance back.

Oh, you knew you shouldn't. You should turn around and leave, let the warrior get himself off in the forest like the animal he was acting like. Still, the heat that had signaled you to go nearly 5 minutes ago had grown, and you knew that even if it wasn't visible, your body was nearly 10x as horny as Aonung was.

You wanted him.

But you knew you couldn't mate here, and certainly not like this.

'Leave, leave leave', your mind screamed as your feet took step after step of their own volition after him.

You worried for a second that somebody would call out to you and ask where you were going, but a part of you knew that everyone had already worked out the nature of what was going on with you two. They had all been staring at you after he slapped your ass, so they must have.

"I'll just talk to him", you finally muttered to yourself as you set off in a faster pace, going off to find him.

#aonung #aonung x reader #aonung x you #ao'nung #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x you #aonung x y/n #way of water #avatar 2 #avatar 2023 #avatar way of water #x reader #romance #aonung imagine #aoung x reader #atwow x reader #atwow headcanons #female reader

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year ago

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Midnight Kiss

Steve Rogers x reader

Just a little ditty in honor of the upcoming holiday. Warnings for suggestive language and bad puns. It's just cute, awkward, and chivalrous...until it isn't. If you couldn't deduce it from the title: they kiss lol. WC 1.5k+

He's happy to see the team having fun, but this isn't exactly Steve's 'scene.' Granted, his 'scene' flew the coop long ago, when his generation aged out of large, raucous celebrations, or rather, Steve never had any true social scene because he never really lived .

He's still trying, he swears; it's just...

really. damn. loud.

The lights are somehow too dim and too bright all at once. Everyone is happy and blitzed and dressed to the nines and leaning on the closest stable object. Any minute now, he'll bow out and call it a--

There's an ear-piercing cackle from a woman in a '2024' gold-streamered headband not two yards to his right, and she tips backwards, shoving an innocent passerby straight into his solid side.

"Sorry," you squeak, rolling your eyes because the word wasn't loud enough to shame the drunk woman beside you, but you're facing him, too, unable to see she's about to make it worse.

The woman snorts and laughs harder, toppling over because her party of friends have the reaction time of sloths, their hands full of dainty champagne flutes and mini-snacks.

Steve instinctively pulls you out of the way, his broad, strong arm wrapping your waist and pinning you to him.

"Oof," you grunt in alarm, the woman's drink spilling over your shoulder.

Hors d'oeuvres, Steve thinks sullenly, that's what people call them these days.

The woman doesn't apologize, and neither do her friends.

He counts a full five seconds before anyone in the small group even raises a hand to help the woman still giggling on the floor. Mostly, Steve is now concerned with the glass shards near your feet.

He's all for having fun, he's all for letting off a little steam, but he is not a fan of sloppiness. That's not a generational trait; that's simple courtesy.

"Ok, 'nough of this," he mutters, an itchy irritation scurrying up his body while he tries not to take over care of the woman. Instead, he checks your legs with a glance, sees the open toes of your strappy sandals, and hoists you into his arms.

He walks away from the bar, sound of crunching fading with each step, and finds a tiny bench--the only spot not occupied--where he can set you down.

Steve can't hear your shock or protest because his blood races past his ears. That was the last straw. He's annoyed now.

"Stay there," he commands, putting up a finger that gets shockingly close to touching your lips since you leaned in to speak. "I'm getting some napkins."

The bartender is oblivious, and why should he not be? The man is one of two serving over a hundred guests, give or take, for hours and hours. Steve doesn't bother getting his attention. He stretches a long arm over the bar top and grabs a stack of cocktail napkins.

It might as well be toilet paper.

He dabs and dabs at the sleeve of your dress, but the napkins dissolve and turn to damp pills. In his day, those results would make excellent spitballs to pass the time in class. They aren't so trendy on your black velvet.

"I thought this would work." He doesn't know what else to do but keep dabbing, so he anxiously continues, not noticing the precarious proximity to your chest until you put a hand on his.

You have kind eyes, he thinks, even though he can't fully make out their color in the mood lighting.

"Please, don't--" finally one of the woman's group yells over a quick sorry "--don't bother with that," you finish. "It's just a dress. You can go back to your people, Captain."

He scrunches his brow. He sometimes wants to introduce himself; he wouldn't always use his rank, but he rarely gets that luxury. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Was heading out anyway. I'll just sit a sec and then leave."

Sounds like the highlight of my night--leaving.

Instead, Steve stands to his full height and scans the busy room for any of his team. He shrugs to himself since, who's he kidding, no one will miss him if he disappears early. He's put in the appearance. He's made enough small drunk talk. Yikes, does he wish alcohol still affected him...

"I'll walk you out," he offers, careful to modulating his volume when one song abruptly ends and another starts lower.

At first, you don't take his hand, and your first two steps seem sturdy.

Then your weight crumples after a deep hiss.

Steve has you back up and carried to the bathroom in a flash. It's lit so he can actually see and muffled so he can actually hear, thank goodness.

Glass did sneak into your shoe, and it easily poked through the ball of your foot. He's so quick to find it that not one whole drop of blood has even eased out of the wound by the time he's pulling the shard out. His bare hands pinch the sizable chunk.

He's careful, slow, and gentle. He's also a touch proud that you make very little fuss, only squirming in discomfort while he works.

"All better," he says, dropping the glass into the trash bin. "We'll just wash it and...you alright?"

You're already pushing yourself off the counter top.

"You shouldn't put weight on it yet." Steve gingerly lifts your leg at the knee to keep the foot from touching the bare tile floor.

"Yeah, but--" you make a face "--you set me down in water."

Steve's eyes bug out. "I--oh gosh--so sorry, I--let me--" there are no paper towels, only an air dryer "--shit."

Defeated by modernity again, he sighs. "I just...I can get more napkins and maybe a first aid kit from--"

The crowd outside is starting to yell. They're counting, backwards, and there's no way anyone will understand what he's asking for in that chaos.

"Ten!"

Steve meets your eyes.

"Nine!"

He can see their full color now and that your dress isn't black. It's a very, very dark maroon velvet. Wetness is easily visible though, since your sleeve seems fully black at the shoulder.

"Eight!"

He points to the door. "Somebody I can get for you?"

You shake your head.

Not that he was fishing for your relationships status, but he's encouraged nonetheless.

"Seven!"

"Only me," you shrug, "braving the party for a thrill..."

"Same."

"Six!"

"How was the year?" he cracks with a smile.

You tilt your head. He's distracted by the cute gesture.

"Five!"

He stares.

"Four!"

"Not great," you admit.

Steve thinks while he stares.

"Three!"

Actually, no, that's a lie. He doesn't think; he just acts.

"Tw--"

He swoops in, big palms cradling each side of your face, soft lips pressed to yours for just an instant, but only because he wants more.

Unless tortured, Steve Rogers will never admit that he didn't plan for one instant where his tongue was not involved. He absolutely wants to taste you. He absolutely wants to own you, just for these few seconds. He absolutely wants to hear you moan in encouragement, the sound crystal clear in isolation from the party.

The roar of the crowd is soft static compared to that racing blood of his.

He pushes himself closer, his bent arms getting in his way, so Steve props up with a palm on the--oh wow, that is wet--counter. His thumb touches the soggy velvet covering your hip and thigh.

He'll buy you a whole new dress if only you lace your fingers in his hair, if only you take his bottom lip between your teeth, if only you whine just like that again.

By 'again,' he means in a few seconds, and maybe tomorrow, and, for good measure, whenever after that.

A loud thud on the door knocks him out of his lip-lock trance. It's not a single restroom, so he suspects another overly inebriated patron since no one comes through the door.

But now some sense is knocked into him, too.

He chews on his swollen lips for a moment, nervous to look up. He hopes you don't regret it, and he hopes you know that he does not, can not, and will never regret that kiss.

Your sated sigh breaks the tension after a beat. "Starting this year off right," you mutter, "at least for me..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles, glancing at the door before finally taking in your lounging form, "the gang is gonna love how I ended up in a ladies' bathroom at the stroke of midnight, necking a stranger."

You snort.

"Don't leave out the part where I was wet for you, head to toe, huh?"

Too bad the florescent lights are bright enough to show his raging red blush, but he clears his throat with a deep growl.

"They'll never believe me..."

Steve sweeps you up into his arms again.

"...unless I take you as proof...and to get a bandage, of course."

You snatch up your shoe and purse, but he won't let this Cinderella run off. You'll be right here against him all night.

"Well, go ahead and splash my other shoulder," you tease. "I can't be lop-sided."

Steve grins, already adding more and more things to list of what he'll do for you, to you, and with you. The list can include parties, too, if this is how wonderfully sweet and silly they can all be.

Happy New Year, indeed...

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp (My taglists are all jacked up again, so if you are missing from the list and/or want to be tagged, please let me know!)

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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saerins · 2 years ago

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─── 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 1.6k

notes: this man is taking over my life >:( if anyone knows how to get over him pls let me know i hate him <3

summary: nothing’s necessary except his talent in soccer, until you appeared. and now, he’s got a new challenge.

itoshi sae is great with soccer—anything that involves him on the pitch, he’ll ace it. he excels at everything he learns on the field, easy as pie.

he’s never really bothered to try to be good at anything else.

as his girlfriend, you know this. you’ve seen him perform and it makes you wonder why someone like him is even with you.

but that makes it especially funny in times like this, when you see him staring at his laundry in shock because his whites turned pink.

“what the fuck?” he’s mumbling to himself, and you’re trying not to snicker from his living room, pressing your lips together.

it’s also funny when you hear him groaning from the kitchen, making you switch your camera off as you play hooky from your lecture and tiptoe out to see what happened.

you wonder how much you’d get if you photographed him right now, staring panickedly at his frying pan, his grilled chicken burnt to a crisp.

sometimes you can’t hold in your laughter, like right now, and sae whips his head around to glare at you.

“you know, i can cook dinner if you want,” you offer him.

sae scoffs, waving you away, “i can do it. just go back to your lecture.”

he’s stubborn, and you think that’s adorable, so you leave him to it.

you ate very tough skinless chicken that night. you told him it’s not bad, just to spare his feelings.

“you’re really quite hopeless with all of this,” you mumble absentmindedly as you look at your white dress shirt, a hole in the shoulder blade.

“shut up, i’ll get you a new one,” sae grumbles, grabbing it from you and tossing it in the bin.

it’s really quite cute how he tries to help with your chores, especially when he found out how swamped you are with finals and your part-time job as a receptionist at a big shot law firm. sae can be thoughtful when he tries to be.

sure, he ends up being more trouble than help, but you’re kind of entertained by his fuck ups so you let him be. it’s part of his many charms; he is an absolute beast on the field, but he’s like a child outside of it. he’s grumpy and stubborn and such a baby. you’re wondering if he can ever live alone because of it.

“here, wear mine,” sae says, offering you his white button down shirt instead.

you weren’t exactly living together, but you stay over sometimes, and most times he’s the one staying over, only because your apartment is more well-equipped for day to day life.

and by that you mean that, at the very least, your fridge is well stocked, vegetables and meat and whatnot, and you have detergents and bathing necessities and everything a guest could possibly need.

meanwhile, even if sae’s apartment is ten times more beautiful and luxurious than yours, his fridge is empty because he always orders takeout without you around, and he only has just enough supplies for himself. which isn’t a crime, but obviously he hasn’t had much of his past girlfriends staying over because he got stressed that one time he had to buy you pads and tampons.

you smile to yourself when you remember how panicked he was while he was at the feminine care aisle in the supermarket, rambling on and on about how people are staring at him because he kept taking all the different brands because he doesn’t know what the fuck you like.

he ended up giving up and getting one of each, and you’re greeted by one of his fanpages on instagram posting about it, a sighting by one of their followers coupled with a picture of sae trying to hide in the hood of his jacket, face beet red while the cashier processed his entire basket of tampons.

now his house has a whole year’s worth of tampon supply.

that was also the night where everyone found out he had a girlfriend.

“you wanna head out for dinner later?” you ask him as you button up his shirt on yourself.

sae drags his eyes over your body. you look good in his shirt, he should let you wear his stuff more often. but you turn his way and he averts his gaze just in time.

“sure, you end at 8?”

you nod.

“fine, i’ll pick you up later,” sae says and shoos you out the door. he glances at the clock on your wall.

3pm. he has about four hours to settle this.

you find sae parked outside the lobby when you end your shift.

“have fun with your dreamy boyfriend,” the other receptionist coos, shooting you a knowing look before she walks off with a wink.

you bid her goodbye and then turn your attention back to your boyfriend, who’s so busy with his phone that he doesn’t even notice you coming.

if someone were to tell the old you that you and sae would turn out to be lovers in the future, you’d have laughed your ass off. he used to be nothing more than someone you used to watch at soccer matches, just some guy who seemed to live in such a different world than yours that you never imagined you’d ever get together with him.

who knew that a single conversation you had with him at the age of seventeen could’ve spurred you to where you are now, age twenty-one and still very much in love with each other?

maybe you should’ve flirted with sae sooner. maybe you should’ve annoyed the shit out of him and made him notice you more before that night.

but you’re not complaining—you’re happy with where you are right now.

you’re getting good grades at school, your employers are very satisfied with you and would offer you a permanent position there any time, and you have a wonderful boyfriend, even if he is surly and inexpressive most of the time.

“hey there,” you greet as you get into his car, and sae gets spooked so much he drops his phone on the ground. again, one of his many charming qualities. you note how he hates horror, the complete opposite of his brother.

sae’s ears turn red from embarrassment, but he picks his phone off the ground and drives off, a hand on the steering wheel and his other hand on your thigh.

“were you busy earlier?” you ask sae once you’re both halfway into dinner, suddenly remembering how he chased you out of the house.

sae cocks his brow, “not really, just had a meeting.”

“oh, with who?”

you’re wondering whether it was with his manager, maybe there’s more sponsorship deals for him. or maybe it was with his coach, about soccer stuff you wouldn’t understand.

“your parents,” he says, so nonchalantly you almost think he’s kidding.

“wait, baby what?”

sae’s eyes flick up from his dinner to you, long lashes framing those pretty teal eyes. his hair looks so soft you kind of want to run your hands through them, but you tell yourself to focus now.

“they just wanted to talk to me because i sent them an alarming text,” he says, not so helpfully because he doesn’t elaborate further. plus, the fact that his face is as stoic as ever doesn’t alleviate your worries that it’s something bad.

“what did you tell them?”

sae’s expression doesn’t change. “secret.”

“babe, you’re killing me.”

sae sighs, his hand in yours as the both of you walk back to your apartment. “the last thing i would do is kill you,” he says, fumbling for his copy of the keys to your apartment. “who’s gonna do my laundry for me then?”

you slap him on his arm, getting to hear him snicker for the first time tonight. he unlocks your door and lets you walk in first, and the moment you do, you’re frozen in position.

there’s rose petals on the floor, scattered around the living room. there’s photos hanging off of delicately strung ropes, all photos of you and sae. photos of the both of you the first time you spoke on the pitch, photos of you meeting his parents and brother, photos of your first couples trip to europe. your coffee table has become a makeshift photo spread, even more photos spread out on it.

“w-what’s all this?” it comes out as a whisper, but sae hears you.

you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, a pair of lips pressing a kiss onto your temple. “i love you, y/n,” he whispers, and you think you’re dreaming because he rarely ever says it, he’s more the kind of person that shows it.

but in this moment, it’s both. and you’re overwhelmed, in a good way.

itoshi sae is great with soccer, and he’s never felt the need to even try and be good at anything else. but not now, not anymore.

when you turn around, sae is on one knee, a beautiful bright diamond ring sitting in a velvet box on his palm.

“marry me, y/n,” sae asks, in a very sae-like manner. like he knows your answer and he’s cutting to the chase.

you tell him yes anyway, because there’s no way you’d ever say no.

that night as the both of you lay in your bed, nervous fingers twiddling with each other’s, each of you looking into the other’s eyes, sae’s decided on his life mission.

sure, he’s probably a pain in your ass when it comes to household chores. but he’ll learn. he’s also probably insufferable when he’s being stubborn, but he’d never want to be someone else’s problem.

for you, he’d do anything. for you, he’d put everything else second. for you, he’s going to be the best husband there ever was.

#bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #sae x you #sae x y/n #bllk sae x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #itoshi sae fluff #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #sae itoshi fluff #૪ aeri’s fics !

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