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mellifluousmalfoy · 5 months ago

Text

cyclamen. // tom riddle x reader.

warnings; death, angst, a lot of it. sorry.

i listened to once more to see you by mitski quite a lot while writing this over the course of two years. i sincerely hope you enjoy this piece.

wc; 7.3k

It felt as though the world had grown silent as this monster stood in front of my peers and I, announcing the death of our classmate who was our last hope.

I glanced around the courtyard that was now in ruins and watched as all hope and faith was drained from my peers. My ears rang as I watched as the monster's lips moved, but I couldn't seem to hear a thing. My sight blurred as I lost track of what was happening around me.

Harry Potter was dead.

I could barely comprehend what was happening around me, only feeling a cold hand take hold of mine, dragging me through the bustling crowd. I noticed it was McGonagall herself holding my hand, not even taking a glance back at me as she continued to drag me deeper into the castle.

We came to a stop at one of the few classrooms that were still intact and she dragged me in before shutting the door tightly behind her. I came to and realised that all of the few teachers were there along with a few parents.

A lot of hushed whispers filled the room as Professor McGonagall tried to calm them down. The room turned quiet after she muttered something that had their shoulders relaxing even if it was only a little bit, but now they all turned to me.

McGonagall cleared her throat before finally addressing me, “(L/N), I’m sure you’re confused as to why we have brought you here,” she paused, stepping toward me before continuing, “but with Harry’s death we have turned to a new plan, a plan given by Dumbledore.”

She touched at her pocket, hinting at the contents in it before she pulled out a piece of parchment that was neatly folded, sealed with bright red wax and the Hogwarts crest. She handed the parchment to me without much hesitation.

I felt confused. Out of all the students in my school, why me? I wasn’t the brightest, and I was definitely not important like a few of my classmates were. I was but a shadow to the rest of the school, yet this was assigned to me of all people.

I tore the red wax with shaky hands and slowly unfolded the paper. The letter left me in awe. Surely they hadn’t expected me to go through with this, right? I had never expected them to send me back in time, nevertheless to kill Voldemort himself. Of course, under the guise of enamouring him.

Again I asked, why me?

Before I could understand what was happening, a potion was handed to me, and I was given strict instructions on consumption by Slughorn. You will not be able to return until the mission is complete.

And before I knew it, I swallowed the potion per Slughorn’s instruction, a letter addressed to the past Dumbledore in hand.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before making my way to the DADA classroom, where McGonagall assured me Dumbledore would be at this hour, whatever hour it was in the past.

The door was ajar so I walked myself in, coming face to face with a slightly more youthful version of my past Headmaster. He glanced up from his work at the sound of someone entering, and he observed me with a curious eye.

I stood silently in the doorway, playing with the letter that was still held tightly in my hands.

“You’re not from here, are you?” His voice broke me out of my daze. He spoke up again after gazing over my confused expression, “This time, perhaps?”

Shock glazed over my face as he simply stared at me, amused.

“H-How did you-“

“You wear a Hogwarts uniform, but not of this era.” His reply was assertive and knowing, “And you seem rather shocked to see me.”

I couldn’t bring it in myself to say, Well, you see you were the headmaster of the school that everyone had idolised, you were loved by everyone, even your worst foes. Oh, and you were killed by one of the people who loved you most!

I simply sighed in defeat before picking up the courage and stepping closer to him until I reached his desk, handing the letter to his hand which was already held out to take it.

He read over the letter, expression barely changing, but it was all in his eyes. Bewilderment, shock, hurt.

Once he had finished reading, he refolded the letter before glancing up at me, “And you’re sure to achieve this? You’re ready to accept the consequences?”

I sighed shakily, pulling at my fingers before replying, “Yes, Professor.”

After having been privately sorted, Dumbledore escorted me to the Great Hall where everyone seemed to be eating dinner. Everything looked so, for lack of a better term, old. The Great Hall appeared exactly the same as it did when I first stepped into the large building in my first year.

But my first year is fifty years from now. Fifty years Voldemort would be a ruthless monster. Voldemort- Tom- was in this very room, and I could feel every hair on my body stand at that very thought.

Dumbledore nudged me towards my house table, and I quickly sat down so as not to grab any attention, but I could feel everyone staring, and they have every right to. Why would a seventh year be starting now? Why not start in their first year?

I laughed at the thought. Of course, I had discussed this with Dumbledore, and he had said I should stay under the guise of an exchange student from a school such as Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, and I quickly agreed.

I was to be a distant niece of his who had been living with his great aunt, and I moved with him after her death. He "thought" it to be convenient for the both of us if I attended Hogwarts for my last year.

I snapped to reality when my plate was somehow emptied, and a pair of polished neat black shoes showed up in my peripheral vision. I glanced up at the new face and was met with dark brown, almost black, eyes.

I studied every feature of his face and found that he was dashing, an incredibly pristine handsome face. His pale skin contrasted with his pitch-black hair and highlighted the gold specks that could barely be seen in his dark eyes. As my eyes raked down to his neck, there was a Slytherin tie tied to perfection that lay so elegantly on his freshly ironed white button-down which could be seen under his grey vest which had green accents that complimented the bright hue of his tie. And on his robe, the head boy badge shone a bright hue of gold.

His chest was puffed out and everything about him screamed as if he thought he was superior to everyone in this room.

Before I knew it, I was staring, and the stranger could tell. I turned red at the realisation that he had caught me staring. He cleared his throat before introducing himself, "You're the new seventh year that Dumbledore mentioned," his voice was monotone, sly and low, "he had instructed me to show you around and to your common room, as the head boy, I gladly took this duty."

He spoke with as much confidence as he walked with. He knew he had charm, and he knew how to use it. I simply nodded in reply, not wanting to tell him I knew these halls like the back of my hand.

"Well," he drew out impatiently, turning to leave the bustling hall, "come on then."

I stood up clumsily, "Oh, sorry," before scattering to follow him as he exited the hall.

Once I had caught up to him we mostly walked in silence, occasionally pointing out different parts of the school such as the library, and the various bathrooms. He had shared small histories about the building that I had learnt in my third year but had long forgotten. Once we came to a stop in front of my common room door I awkwardly turned to face him, "By the way," I shuffled on my feet as I tried my best to hold eye contact with the cold but devilishly handsome man, "I'm (L/n). (Y/n) (L/n)."

He stared at me, back straight as ever, not a stray hair in sight, "Pleasure," he paused, leaning down to reach my height, "Riddle. Tom Riddle."

My ears began to ring, my world began to turn; The handsome stranger was the man who killed Harry Potter.

I swallowed back a shaky breath, nodding softly at him, before turning towards the entrance, and stepping into the familiar room. I could feel his eyes bore holes into the back of my head; he obviously read my body language and saw my reaction to his name.

My world continued to spin even after the entrance closed on his dark brown eyes, and suddenly I felt sick and could no longer stomach my dinner.

"You must be really good at adapting to your surroundings," Augusta Crouch, my herbology seatmate and self-assigned tour guide, chirped brightly from beside me. She had somehow managed to find out that we had almost all our classes together, "it almost seems as though you know the place better than I-"

I turned confusedly at the sudden end to her normally long rants and turned to the direction that she stared at like a deer in headlights. I caught the gaze of those familiar dark eyes and fought the urge to turn pale at the sight of him. Just the thought of him repulsed me, and somehow, I was supposed to seduce the monster.

He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, directly across from the Transfiguration classroom. He raised an eyebrow as I held his gaze with shielded eyes before standing up properly, back as straight as a ruler, "We have Charms together. Shall I accompany you both?"

Augusta slowly released my arm and I begged Merlin for her to hold on before gesturing towards the opposite direction of Charms, "I am actually on my way to the library, Charms is a soft option in my opinion," I knew she had failed her Charms O.W.L because she had been complaining about it to me earlier, "I'll see you later, (L/n)."

I nodded silently before I met those dark eyes once again. He held out his arm and I forced myself to link mine to his, and so we set off to Charms.

"How exactly was it that you knew we had Charms together but Augusta didn't?" I asked before I could hold my tongue, all muscles in my body were tense whenever I was near him.

"As head boy, I ensure that all students are happy and comfortable." He stated with that charming blank smile that had all the professors swooning.

As soon as we arrived at Charms, I ran out of his arms and situated myself in a seat with a housemate that seemed familiar enough. I sighed to myself as I thought over how ridiculous I have been the past few days I've attended this olden Hogwarts; barely casting a glance to Vold- Tom- but being friendly enough so as not to raise any suspicions. To anyone on the outside, they would assume I was simply playing "hard to get", which was true since I did not want to be "gotten" by this man- boy at this stage- but that was beside the point. I had a mission, and I was sure to complete it.

I bit my lip and decided to suck it up with that determination in mind. I turned to where I assumed Tom would be sitting, found the seat next to him unoccupied, and rushed to sit next to him. He raised an eyebrow at my odd sudden change in behaviour but chose not to comment on it, for which I was grateful. I settled at the table and pulled out the equipment we needed for the class- which Dumbledore picked up for me thankfully- and acted as if I wasn't behaving strangely.

I muddled over what I had to do to grow close with this cold man slowly but surely. Putting on my best frown of confusion halfway through the class, I turned to him, "Tom," he perked up at his name, surprised we were already on a first-name basis but simply raised an eyebrow in my direction, "what exactly does this mean? We weren't taught this material at Beauxbatons."

"Weren't taught one of the most basics of basics in Charms?" He raised an eyebrow at me incredulously, and though I didn't appreciate the passive aggression behind his tone, I ignored it and continued to play dumb and shrugged. He sighed and although I could see he didn't exactly, believe me, he proceeded to explain it to me, and with that, he concluded that he needed much more time than what was left in Charms because he gave me a time and location before I could ask any more questions, claiming "A tutor session will do you some good, (L/n)."

Now the plan was in motion, all I had to do was go along with it.

Spending time with Tom hadn't proved to be as difficult as I had assumed. He was pleasant company if you didn't think hard about what he was sure to become- and it was just that. He wasn't Voldemort at this point in time, not yet at least. However, when the occasion came up, I'd see a glimpse of what a true monster Tom could be. Like the time he had ridiculed a third-year for bumping into my side, eyes growing black as if he was taken over by another soul. Or the time he had deducted points from a Hufflepuff second-year for spilling pumpkin juice on his lap; if looks could kill, that poor second-year would be good as dead. Now that I think about it, not a day has gone by in the past five weeks of my stay where Tom wasn't here, next to me.

It was strange, how quickly I had adapted to his presence. Though I would never want to admit it, he was definitely growing on-

"(L/n), aren't you listening to what I'm saying?" Augusta sneered, glancing over at me in irritation, muttering curses under her breath.

I simply sent her a smile of apology, I knew she was growing impatient with my constant daydreams and I was grateful for her short patience but continuing to deal with me, "Sorry, what was that Augusta?"

"Well, you see," Augusta started, getting comfortable in her seat and leaning forward like she was about to share the latest gossip of the moment, which was definitely true from the glint in her eye, "apparently, Golden Head Boy is going to Hogsmeade this weekend."

I raised an eyebrow at her, quite disappointed at the dull gossip, leaning back in my seat to continue eating my breakfast, "And why should that be important to me?"

"Oh come on," Augusta loudly scoffed, quieting down when a few heads snapped in her direction before mumbling under her breath, "you definitely fancy Riddle."

This was my goal, wasn't it? To deceive and convince everyone, including Tom, that I genuinely fancied him.

I simply shrugged at her statement, "What does that have to do with Hogsmeade?"

I continued to play dumb as Augusta rolled her eyes, "Well, he never goes out to Hogsmeade. I'm thinking our broody head boy is going to ask a little lady on a date."

I turned a bright red, something I hadn't realised could happen to me, Augusta grinned nudging my side, head nodding over discreetly toward where I knew Slytherin's table was situated. And now, I could feel it; his stare boring into the side of my cheek as my cheeks turned an unhealthy shade of red as I continued to stare at Augusta, not daring to look towards his burning gaze.

"Don't be stupid," I spat embarrassedly, cheeks slightly cooled down as I reached for my cold glass of pumpkin juice, "you don't know what you're talking about, Gussie. Besides, I'm sure he doesn't fancy me back."

I watched her deflate and grumble in irritation before we both turned back toward our forgotten breakfasts. This was all part of my goal, so why did my stomach churn in guilt at the thought of going on a date with him?

I huffed as I raised my bag on my shoulder, I was definitely late. I grumbled as I rounded a corner and bumped into a first-year, muttering an apology before walking as fast as I could in the crowded hall to the library. I thanked Merlin once the doors of the library came into sight and pushed through the sea of students, walking through the maze-like library before coming to a halt before a very irritated Tom who raised an eyebrow at the sight of me, "You're late."

I held back an eye roll, no shit Sherlock, "I'm sorry, Slughorn really knows how to talk doesn't he?"

I sighed in relief as he softened at that, the anger slowly flowing off his shoulders as he got situated in his seat, "He does tend to talk an ear off every once in a while."

It was strange, to have a bond with him. Though, barely a bond at that. I was slowly warming up to him and vice versa. If I didn't think so hard about how he would eventually become a child murderer, he was quite nice company.

Tom was the type of person who could sit in silence and not feel the urge to fill it, a quality I very much appreciated in him. Most of our tutoring sessions were like this, spent in silence with the occasional question every now and then.

We had been meeting for a few weeks now, and it was nearing the end of the first term. I was shocked at how quick the term had gone, it wasn't too different from my time in school, though the generation gap could definitely be felt, it didn't impact my everyday life in this timeline.

I snapped out of my daze, flushing a bright Fuschia, realising I had been staring at Tom a little too long, and he brightened at the obvious fact I was, smirking slightly at my flustered state. I scrambled to the seat across from him, pulling out the parchment containing my unfinished Potions essay prompting me to focus on the essay to distract myself. I heard him chuckle under his breath before seeing him turn back to his essay from the corner of my eye.

Just as I was finishing the introduction to my conclusion, I noticed from the corner of my vision Tom's head perking up as he, what I assumed to be, gained whatever ounce of courage he could grasp. I braced myself internally, already knowing what was coming as I solely focused on the sound of his knee bouncing nervously under the table. It was strange. In the weeks I have known Tom, he never got nervous. Never.

Knowing that he was nervous because of me, made the knot of guilt in my stomach tighter. My head snapped up as he cleared his throat, his way of gaining my attention in all of our study sessions, "Yes, Tom?"

His ears perked up at the sound of his first name, not having yet gotten used to the sound of it being uttered by another student, no matter how close they were. It was always Riddle, and from his reaction, albeit barely anything, he liked hearing it from my lips.

"Tom?" I inquired, growing nervous at his silence. Maybe I had been wrong, he would not be asking me to Hogsmeade. After all, when had Augusta's gossip ever been reliable-

"You know of Hogsmeade, yes?" I smiled at his question, internally giggling like a little girl at how cute he was being.

"Perhaps,"

"Precisely, we shall visit the village this weekend," he paused briefly, "together."

"Are you ordering me around, Riddle?" I jokingly asked, watching as his nerves slowly kicked in and he rushed to his own defence, the walls he had built so high slowly becoming higher, and before he could utter another word I cut in, "Don't fret, Tom. I would love to attend Hogsmeade with you this weekend."

He grumbled at my teasing but softly smiled in victory at my agreeance.

I fidgeted with my hands nervously as I waited at the entrance of Hogwarts. I had never been so nervous in my life, not even when I went on a date with Dean Thomas and Merlin, I liked him a lot. I wasn't too sure why I was so nervous about this date. I knew the twist in my stomach wasn't guilt, but instead described by muggles as butterflies, and the thought made me sick. It was now the middle of October, the air was crisper, the leaves were starting to change to a beautiful shade of orange, and my breath could be seen because of how cold it was. Merlin, could Tom get here any faster?

"You came early?" The sudden entrance of Tom's soft voice had caused me to jump, he seemed amused by my reaction, barely squeezing out a grin, "I didn't mean to frighten you, (L/n)."

A major habit I had noticed of Tom was that he hardly ever said the words "I'm sorry" and "thank you". It left a bitter taste in my mouth knowing this, and suddenly the butterflies stopped fluttering in my stomach as reality struck me once again. He is and always will be a monster.

"It's okay, Tom," I said quietly, silently glancing down at my shoes and the fallen orange leaves that littered the ground, "Shall we go then?"

And off we went into the village of Hogsmeade.

After our date, if you could even call it that, Tom seemed much more relaxed to be around me. Though, I knew there was a side of him that he had yet to show me. The same side I was to extinguish within him, to remove the darkness and succeed in my mission of saving the very people I loved back in my own time. Tom still had many secrets he had yet confided in me, and I was growing impatient.

As weeks passed by, Tom gradually became more absent in my life, which was a change from spending every day together. He was acting strange and worried me. I sat in my dorm, away from the hustle and bustle of the common room, situated at my desk as I revised my potions essay. Sure, I do not actually have to do the work, but it felt nice to finally be a normal student again. Not having to live in fear of dark wizards, simply studying for the big exams that are to happen at the end of this school year, and not having to worry about my family at home or for my schoolmates. I was safe here.

I was snapped out of my daze of delusion by pecking at my window I glanced up to see a familiar owl, and I was quick to open my window and let the bird in. I hadn't heard from Tom since yesterday's lunch and I was growing worried about his absence. Had he grown suspicious? Did he not wish to pursue me anymore?

I pushed away my fears as I unravelled the scroll Tom had so neatly tied with a silver ribbon.

"Meet me at the astronomy tower, I wish to see you."

A simple sentence had never made me so nervous before. The twist of nerves in my stomach when I had been told of the war could barely compare to the fire that Tom Riddle had just let off in my head. It was past curfew, he knew this. I went over the chances of being caught by the warden and shivered. Maybe tonight he would confess his feelings for you, I shrugged off my thoughts of delusion and quickly moved to change my clothing; I could not let Tom see me in my pyjamas.

As I pulled on a warm jacket and some gloves, winter was heavily kicking in as November came to an end. I sighed as I slowly climbed down the steps that led to the common room and slowly made my way to the exit. I glanced both ways before setting off in the halls, I could not be caught. My pace picked up until I was essentially running to the astronomy tower, desperate to know just why Tom had summoned me so late in the night.

I came to a stop at the top of the stairs leading up to the astronomy tower and quickly found Tom leaning against the railing. I stopped to catch my breath quietly, hoping he hadn't heard my heavy breathing out of embarrassment.

He stood in glorious silence. To this point, I had never seen a beauty that could compare to him, a rose would shy away at the sight. His pale skin glowed under the moonlight of the full moon, cheeks softly kissed by the cold, the pink skin I so desperately wanted to caress, to keep it away from the bite of the winter frost. My mouth stood agape as I soaked in his presence, not wanting to tear my eyes away from the pink that blushed his cheeks. When my eyes dropped to his lips, I almost stumbled over my own feet. Never in the weeks I had been here had I wanted to kiss Tom as much as I had wanted at this moment.

"Tom?" I barely squeaked out as he finally acknowledged my presence. His raven hair bounced softly as his head turned in my direction.

He simply sat down, not yet saying anything as I took that as a cue to join his side. I kept a small distance between us, I knew he didn't really enjoy it when his space was invaded. I ignored the way he glanced at me at that and instead waited for him to speak.

He seemed conflicted, I knew he had to be if he were as absent as he was. He was lost in his head, though his expression had been set in stone, I had never seen eyes so vulnerable. I quietly reached for his hand that sat between us, surprised at how cold they were, resting my hand over his to comfort him in whatever mental battle he seems to be having at this moment.

"What do you wish for the future?" His question surprised me, that was the last thing I expected to leave those lovely red lips.

"I never expected you to dwell on such questions, Tom." And that was the truth. From the start, Tom seemed like a realist, not one to dwell on the what-ifs of the world.

"I don't," he paused, clearly now deep in thought as he slowly entwined our fingers, "as graduation approaches, I think of what my true ambitions are; what I want from this lifetime."

"Oh," and that was all I felt I could say. I didn't know what exactly when wanted my answer to be. Would it change anything? A question I so desperately wished to ask. Would my answer save the lives lost?

I closed my eyes, reminding myself this was Tom. My Tom.

My eyes opened and the darkness of Hogwarts momentarily consumed me as I zeroed in on those dark orbs. Tom consumed me as he held my gaze for what felt like an eternity. Swimming through pools of tar, drowning in the thick substance; suffocating, slow but deep and passionate. His eyes reflected his soul almost perfectly; dull, dark, naive.

To remember the humanity in Tom feels almost inhumane, yet here I was under the November moonlight, drowning in the deep passionate pools of Tom Riddle.

"I'm not too sure," my voice managed to conjure a sentence, my brain a mess yet my heart speaking, "but, this is nice."

Tom seemingly softened at that, not so much his body; his shoulders remained frigid, his knees tight and his knuckles white. But his eyes, his eyes spoke his deepest fears, his deepest desires. The hardness they once held melted slightly at that moment, and that feeling lingered in my stomach as I continued to drown in his gaze. He hummed, in what I think was agreement, as we sat in silence soaking in the moment, "This is nice."

Winter had completely settled across the horizon of the Highlands as the full force of the unsightliness of winter came across Hogwarts harshly. The land was painted white, almost as if a thick layer of wool had settled across the whole of the school grounds. Winter was my favourite season in the school year; shorter days called for longer nights of sleep, and colder days called for warm teas around the fireplace.

Winter also brought about a certain coldness, a darkness that consumed the lands, the songbird no longer being heard across the campus as you roamed, only the echo of your footsteps sounded. That was all I heard now, my footsteps echoing as if I was followed, but I knew the sound all too well, the scrape of my sole against the ground, the uneven tempo of my feet as they pattered across the halls. I hated the silence brought about the halls, especially at night.

Meeting with Dumbledore, especially under my circumstances, was not uncommon for me for the duration of this school year, but as winter break fast approached, a plan of sorts would need to be compiled. Where I'd be staying for the break, and further details according to Dumbledore.

As I came to a stop outside of the Professor's office, I braced myself before knocking thrice. The door swung open as Dumbledore stood at the opposite wall of the room, "Good evening, (L/n)."

"Professor," I acknowledged as I walked before his large desk, taking note of the door shutting on its own behind me. Well, I thought, not on its own.

"I assume you are curious as to why I called for you at this hour,"

"I can't say I'd be surprised Professor," he smiled softly at the jest, gesturing to a chair behind me as he sat in his own.

"I was not wrong," referring to his letter from the future laying upward on the desk, "your skills of Occlumency are prodigious, as you must see as is Tom with his Legilimency."

"The most talented I've encountered, sir." My reply sounded almost empty, dull. I understood now why Dumbledore of the future was so insistent on my participation, and I see why Dumbledore of the past too trusted within my ability. Not often you hear of a brain impenetrable by that of Lord Voldemort.

"I see your efforts with Tom seem to be fruitful," he said, almost carefully, "your efforts are not wasted, especially for Riddle. After all, it is okay to feel, you see."

I hardened at his words, my shoulders growing rigid as he spoke, "It is my mission after all, Sir."

"(Y/n), that is not-"

"Do not worry, sir. This mission will not be one I will fail for you; saving my friends, my family is of utmost importance."

He paused, watching me almost methodically as he pondered for a beat. He held my gaze, watching silently before letting out a hum, "I see, as you were, (L/n)."

My stomach turned as I returned to my bed for the night, most definitely from guilt, I just didn't know why I felt guilty. For Tom? My friends in the future? My family? Dumbledore?

I felt helpless, with everyone's future in my hands, the lines of rationality and irrationality blurred as my reality began to distort, and yet all I could think about was Tom. What is it I want from this lifetime?

His question rang in my head, from the moment I left the office, to the moment I laid to rest.

Entertaining the mere thought of liking Tom had slowly become an easier task. Growing comfortable with the idea, albeit not ideal, was a part of the process, of falling with Tom. Falling for someone is similar to that of a trust fall, the other would be there to catch you, and to trust the other you must catch them when they fall. To fall for someone is to trust them with your soul and wholeheartedly feel it is reciprocated. And so, even if just for a little, I'll let myself fall for Tom; ulterior motives or not.

Falling for Tom smells like pine trees, feels like a warm summer breeze, and the naivety that once glimmered in his eyes has saturated me. Falling for Tom sounds like rough waves slamming against a cliffside, the seaspray gently caressing my face as he washes over me.

Is this what I want from my lifetime? I'm unsure.

The Black Lake is vast and dark, as though it could swallow the sun whole, leaving us in the darkness. The surface is disturbed, one, two, three, "Bugger!"

My head snaps to Tom as he reaches for another flat stone. He catches my gaze and quickly raises an eyebrow as he readies his arm to skip a stone yet again, "Amazed?"

I bit my tongue and held a smile at his sarcasm, "Your talents never cease to baffle me, Tom."

His ears wiggled at the sound of his name, and I thought of a conversation I once had with Dumbledore, "Is it true no one calls you that?"

His brows furrowed and his head tilted softly to the side, not understanding my question. Seeing his confusion, I ask again, "Tom, I mean. Does no one call you that?"

As my eyes fell over him once again, I noticed he was not looking beyond the horizon, everywhere but me it seemed. In his lowest voice, "Well," he paused, clearing his throat so his voice came out clearly; assertive, "it's because I don't let anyone call me that. It's quite simple."

I paused for a beat as I pondered, "You let me."

Not so much a question, more so a comfortable statement. I watched as his shoulders shrugged softly in the corner of my eye. I knew why others hadn't called him Tom, he had no clue of my knowledge, but the fact hurt, knowing what he not only thought of his father, but himself.

"You never asked," my stomach turned at that. Had I not asked? I felt almost foolish, foolish at my comfortableness, at my relaxed state around him, I hadn't yet asked-

"You didn't-" he stopped, it was the first I had ever heard any type of fumble fall from his lips, "You didn't need to," he looked almost frantic, frantic for Tom that is, "ask, that is."

I smiled as his eyes met mine for the first time, and I was drowning again.

As I had returned to my dorm for the night, a neat scroll was waiting for me at my window, neatly tied with a silver bow, it was easy to guess who it was from, and even easier to guess the contents. I barely had time to open the note before I threw on my shoes and headed off into the dark comfort of the halls of Hogwarts.

The astronomy tower creaked louder than the Whomping Willow as I approached, and the harsh winds pinched at my cheeks and nose, I could barely imagine how cold Tom would have been. He had confided after a few visits here that he would often wait here for hours as he couldn't really predict what time I'd return to my dorm. With that thought in tow, I ran up the stairs to the best of my ability.

Tom stood beneath the moonlight in all his glory. Although, a dark cloud hung over him. Many would simply think of it as evil, the evil that is so inherently entrenched in him, it could be anything but. This darkness, was a darkness that consumed him, the vast darkness that would consume the light that shone from him.

As I reached the summit, Tom glanced over at the sound of my sole scuffing against the top step, my staggered breaths filling the room. He visibly relaxed at the sight of me, probably having thought I was danger.

"You're here," yet again, another statement. Most of our nights started similarly; simple. That was one of my favourite traits of Tom, his simplicity was a naivety that has been of great solace; a contrast from the life of constant fear and spontaneity I once lived. I hummed before taking my place next to him as I had many nights before.

We had come to talk, we always do. Tonight felt different, the burden he seemed to carry with himself every day seemed to feel like the world on his shoulders at this very moment. He looked fragile, vulnerable almost. His shoulders sunk in like a small puppy, abandoned with no care. After a long silence, Tom spoke out in a loud voice, as if to convince himself he was confident rather than me, "My name,"

"It belongs to my father," he paused for a while as if waiting for questions, but I already knew all the answers, I knew who he was.

"My father," his voice shook as he took a ragged breath, "was a muggleborn. That is why I despise my name. It was from his filthy bloodline of which I obtained that name."

"Tom.." My voice cracked softly as his eyes turned black, he looked as if he was almost in a frenzy, his hair out of place, his eyes frantic, saliva swinging from his red lips.

"My weak, pathetic mother named me after him." His eyes were now red as he refused to meet my gaze, "Not even he wanted me. Yet, here I am," his breaths accelerated, "a spitting image of him, of her stupidity. Her naivety."

"Strangely enough," now he met my eyes. Tom has the fiercest of eyes I've ever to lay eyes upon, and to see those very orbs shattered. It is a pain indescribable, "I've grown to like it. Used to hearing it. I would want to hear you say it as often as I could."

I was unsure of what he was asking, whether it was my hand, my friendship, my companionship. But none of that mattered to me, not anymore. I reached for his hand that settled between us, "Okay, Tom."

His demeanour changed in that of an instant, his hand moved from under mine as he turned to me now fully, "I wish to tell you something."

It was only now that he faced me that I saw how weak he looked. I instinctively reached for his cheek, his cheekbone protruding as I brushed my thumb across it. My mouth opened and closed as I searched for the words.

"I have been strongly thinking about that conversation we had," he paused, looking into my eyes for recognition and continuing once he had seen it, "about the future."

"I suppose, you have heard of the rumours," for a moment, I wish I didn't, I wish I could play stupid and be betrayed by Tom, be shocked by the revelation of his darkness. Darkness I know all too well, "I am here to say they are true."

It seemed as if the wind had stopped and the howling of the tower had been silenced, a pin could drop.

"All of them. Myrtle, Hagrid- All of it." Here Tom was confessing his sins before me, searching for relief, for atonement for the hurt he had caused. Sitting before me, kneeling before me with his big, dark, naive eyes.

"Even," he paused as he took a deep breath, "those of the horcrux. Horcruxes, there are two. Were two."

His eyes met mine again, and I was drowning all again, though this time felt real. The water was in my lungs suffocating me, and I was running out of time, "I would give it all up- I have given it all up. That is not what I want to do with my lifetime. I'm not really too sure what I want to do,"

He took my hand in his this time, clutching my right hand in both as if I were as gentle as a feather, as fragile as glass.

My left hand gripped tightly at my wand as I brushed my thumb along the back of his hand, unable to meet his gaze, tears obscuring my vision. This is all too much.

"It seems that I may have started to," my ears started to ring, "possess certain feelings for you, (L/n)." My heart was thumping in my ears at the announcement. It is too much, no.

“When we had first met," he paused, calculating his every word as I gripped my wand tightly in my hand, "why was it that you flinched at the mention of my name? You wouldn't a clue as to who I am, wouldn't you (Y/n)?"

His question caused me to tense up, my grip somehow getting tighter on my wand I felt as if it may break in my grasp, “You cannot do this to me!”

His booming voice caused me to flinch, jumping back at the sudden loud voice, “Tom-“

“No. You don’t understand, (Y/n). I gave up the dark path that was destined for me, to love you, to ensure that I could be the perfect man you wanted- no, needed. I haven’t the heart to believe that you cannot do the same for me.” His words tugged at the knot of guilt deep in my stomach, clawing at the knot in order to untie it, for me to succumb to his wishes and stay here, to not fulfil my mission, to love him to my fullest ability.

"I sacrificed everything for you.." Tom choked, his voice barely above a whisper, and his tone ate away at the guilt in my stomach. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed down the guilt that threatened to flood out, "I destroyed myself for you."

His shout made me flinch. The betrayal, the pain in his voice almost made me regret it all. He had trusted me. Trusted me enough to destroy the few Horcruxes he had which he made and destroyed with his own hands. He had let his walls down and let me into his heart, his bed, his arms.

I couldn't say a word, I knew if I opened my mouth I'd regret what I was going to do, "You're a monster. A cruel monster. I should've seen through your facade, under your skin. And, like a fool, I thought I was deserving of your love."

It was never a facade, I so badly wanted to yell at his red eyes. His weak state made this feel so easy. I never wanted to admit it to myself, but I loved Tom Riddle. I loved his smile, his wittiness, his charm. If so for a moment, I'd lay my guard down. I peeled back the tall wall I had built, brick by brick. If even for a moment, I wish for Tom to feel my love. To be loved to the fullest of my potential, the full force of the lifetime love I harboured for him. For Tom, my Tom.

But now, that love amounted to nothing.

And so I raised my wand and muttered that sickly unforgivable curse.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #tom riddle #harry potter x you #harry potter one shot #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #angst #no happy ending #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #time travel au

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verbenaa · 9 months ago

Text

opus 4 (nothing compares to the sighs that fall from your lips)

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:

“Have I mentioned how absolutely divine you look, darling?”

“Well, you did make the gown.” Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him closer as you arch into him. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking at the skin bared to him above the low neckline.

“It’s quite easy when you have such a lovely muse.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, 18+

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6.9k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: exhibitionism, frottage/thigh riding, clothed sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vampire bites, blood, soft dom astarion, tailor astarion strikes again

𝑎/𝑛: if larian can't give us a masquerade, then i will! welcome to my current fixation which has been this masquerade ball fic. idk there is no rhyme or reason to this, its just fun and indulgent and glittery. i hope you enjoy and please like/comment/reblog etc ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The chandeliers twinkle brightly from the cavernous ceiling above as you float across the polished ballroom floor, slippered feet moving swiftly as your dance partner twirls you around, an arm wrapped tight around your waist while the other grasps your hand as he leads you through the elegant steps of a waltz.

Wine burns through your veins as it sings a siren’s song, the sanguine liquid slipping down your throat with ease this evening, the vintage aged to perfection. Melted wax drips from the tapers decorating the room, their flames no more than whirls of shining light as you spin around and around, gown fluttering with every elegant movement.

It wasn’t often you attended these sorts of events, despite the amount of invitations you’ve received over the years. Being the most recent hero of Baldur’s Gate had its occasional perks it would seem, and this ball was certainly one of them.

It was the same routine every time. You would open the frequently ostentation envelopes, perfect calligraphy written with expensive pots of colored ink on the front and oversized wax seals in golds and reds and blues on the back. Inevitably, after a passing glance at whatever solicitation lay inside you would feed it to your hearth, letting the fire gobble it up as it burns to black.

This particular invitation, however, had caught your eye. The envelope itself was nothing of particular elegance, though the black of the envelope and silver lettering did stand out among the others in your post box that day. The matching silver wax seal on the back opened easily with a quick flick of your letter opener, and a singular word on the thick vellum piqued your interest in a way that few ever did on these inane things.

Masquerade.

You can easily recall the way the word made your heart jump, mind moving to the imagined scenarios of your younger years, the adventures of storybook heroines always featuring stories of flowing gowns and glittering masks.

Your own gown flows around your form as you dance the steps, soft fabric laying perfectly against your curves as braided straps of silk rest over your shoulders. The skirt flows down around a high slit up the thigh, velvet the color of the deepest ivy brushing against the marbled floors with every movement.

The metallic threads glow in the candlelight, embroidered designs of liquid silver cascade in small clusters down the bodice and onto the skirt like little groups of stars falling from the sky. The low back of the dress leaves you uncharacteristically bare, almost everything above the line of your waist exposed, though the air is warm against your skin with all the bodies present this evening.

Your dance partner cuts a dashing figure, a vision of velvet and quicksilver in his own right. He looked made for the part—like some dark hero from a storybook come to life in front of your eyes.

Gods, he looked so handsome.

Your cheeks flush as you watch him, following his lead as his hands tighten around you, that familiar knowing smirk decorating his elegant features even with the dark mask he wears obscuring the top half of his features, claret eyes framed with black and silver.

You pull yourself closer to Astarion, filling your senses with his familiar and comforting scent as he continues to lead you through the steps with sleek perfection, footsteps confident and head held high under his disguise.

The dance ends, orchestra moving on from the dreamy waltz you had just turned about to on the floor, a lilting concerto taking its place after a brief respite. Astarion leads you to the side of the dance floor, a hand poised on your waist as you walk to the fringes of the room.

You touch his velvet-covered shoulder, the intricately embroidered doublet matching the color of your own gown to perfection, down the same argent threads. The two of you were certainly coordinated this evening, if nothing else.

It had taken little to convince Astarion to agree to join you, his own love for overdramatic and lavish debauchery too much to deny something like a masquerade ball. He had certainly wasted no time designing outfits for the two of you, spending extra moments throughout his evenings constructing and embroidering them until every detail was as perfect as he had envisioned.

“Astarion!” You whisper into a delicately pointed ear, an emerald earring glinting in the candlelight as you rest your hand on his bicep, leaning your weight into him. “Go get us more wine!”

“You absolute lush.” His smile is fond as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, careful not to disturb the delicate lace mask resting over your eyes, satiny ribbon tied behind your head in a pretty, perfect bow.

It was hard to deny his comment, especially when there was that delightful fuzziness that occupied your every sense, clouding everything in a wonderfully warm haze. You had easily lost track of the number of glasses you had imbibed over the evening, though you are fairly certain you simply misplaced some still half full goblets on the random trays of servers who wandered through the space.

Your thoughts swirl as he walks away from you in search of more spirits, his retreating figure a vision. He really was too handsome, dressed in his finery like this. Maybe you were wrong all these years to give your regrets to so many an occasion, if seeing Astarion dressed in the rich velvets and silks he deserved to wear was to be your prize.

A hand on your shoulder draws your attention, and you turn a moment later, reactions slowed by the alcohol still dancing in your veins. Behind you is a man, handsome enough—if only in a rather ordinary way—his warm brown eyes looking out at you from behind a mask of bright crimson as he gives you a friendly smile.

“I must ask how such a lovely gem such as yourself is simply wandering around alone on a night like this?” The words are meant to be suave and charming, though you ignore them, as uninterested in the man now standing before as you are in his words or the meaning behind them. Your eyes draw instead to a overflowing vase of flowers on a table behind him, a downright gaudy display of cultivated blooms bursting from an equally ostentatious vase.

“Do you happen to know what type of flowers those are behind you?” You point at them, not addressing the man’s prior words to you. He turns to look behind him with befuddlement, taking in the large arrangement with barely a blink of his eyes before he turns back, scanning up and down your velvet-clad figure.

“I’m afraid flowers aren’t my specialty.” His answer is short and no-nonsense, he was clearly a man uninspired and uncreative if that was the best he could come up with, the roll of your eyes mostly obscured by the lace covering your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, may I ask your name?” He sidles ever a bit closer, and you take a measured step back in response as you cross your arms casually in front of you, head tilting to the side as you observe him.

“How could you know? We are masked, after all.”

“It would be my honor, my dear mysterious Lady, to have your next dance?” His words are polite, even with such blunt forwardness.

You are saved from having to answer by an arm wrapping around your waist from behind, that wonderfully delicious scent of bergamot and brandy filling your senses with his presence.

The man across from you looks affronted at Astarion’s arrival, eyes falling to the arm wrapped tightly around your body and the angular face pressing against the crown of your head.

“Darling, won’t you introduce me to your new friend?”

“Oh! My love, you’ve returned!” Your smile is beatific as you turn towards him, eyes meeting his own you look for your promised goblet of wine.

“You never mentioned you were…partnered.” The man—what was his name again?—says before you two, a frown etched onto his features.

“Well, you never asked. This is my—” Astarion cuts you off before you can finish.

“Husband.” There’s a prideful possessiveness to his words that strike your interest, though you fight the urge to roll your eyes all the same. You and Astarion may be life partners, but married you were not.

“Here you are, my sweet.” He holds the full goblet towards you as it dangles between his elegant fingers, wine threatening to spill from its silvered edges. “Now, let us continue our fête elsewhere, hm?”

You give the man a bored look before turning away, downing your wine quickly before moving to place the empty silver on the table behind him, the overlarge bouquet towering over you. Without a second glance, Astarion takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back before stepping away with you into the crowd beyond.

He leads you to a secluded corner, the area obscured by the shadows of the lofty space. Astarion’s footsteps finally slow as you near the wall and he notices your raised brow, an expectant expression on your face.

“Married, Astarion? When exactly was our wedding day, just so I don’t forget the anniversary.” You speak wryly, an amused smile on your lips. “I’d hate to not get you a gift.”

“Well, we may as well be married. Don’t you agree?”

“I certainly don’t see a ring on my finger.” You make to look at your hand, a playful smile old your lips as you tease him. Astarion’s frown deepens, a look of childish petulance crosses his features, obvious even with the mask hiding his expressive eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous that another man was simply talking to me?”

“Darling, I think he would have done more than simply talk to you if you’d let him,” He rolls his eyes, exhaling a huff as his hands come to rest above the swell of your hips, bracketing your waist with those talented, nimble fingers.

“Besides, he wasn’t talking, he was flirting with you.” You could swear he was pouting, amusement building with every passing minute as you bite your lip to hide your growing smile.

“I hadn’t noticed, honestly.” Your shrug is a touch too put on, the casualness of the action at odds with the finery you wear as the smile you try to hide escapes, painting your features with a certain cunning that Astarion knows all too well.

“Oh, I think you knew exactly what you were doing, darling, letting that man flirt with you.” Astarion’s hands on your velvet covered waist tighten as he walks you backward, not stopping until your back meets the intricately wainscoted wall, the two of you partially obscured by the heavy drapery of a nearby balcony.

“You’re far too smart, my sweet, to be so unaware.” The rest of ball swirls on obliviously around you both, dizzying in its opulence as music from the orchestra begins its climb to a rousing crescendo.

A coy smirk is the only answer you give him, the incline of your head daring him to continue as the lace covering your eyes only adds to your mystique tonight. The wine running through your veins turns your body hot, your confidence brimming with the help of the alcohol.

“And so what if I did, Astarion?” His ornate mask does little to hide the spark flaring to life in his crimson irises, thumbs tracing circles dangerously high on your ribcage as he steps closer into your space, the flowing skirt of your gown brushing against his own finery as he pushes close.

“Then I suppose you leave me no choice but to give you a little lesson, dearest.”

One of the hands at your waist skates up, passing over your breast before brushing up the column of your neck, hand wrapping lightly around your throat as you lean your head up to look at him. His fingers brush over leftover scars from feedings past, and the sudden pressure on your throat has your body on high alert, heat licking at the bottom of your belly as you inhale a shaky breath.

Astarion’s mouth crashes down onto yours, stealing your breath as he kisses you with abandon. You answer his kiss with your own hunger, opening your lips to welcome his tongue. Your free hand comes up to brush against his chest, fingers tightening in the fabric to pull his body closer as your lips and tongue move against his own.

Your back is pressed hard against the wall behind you, the molded wood cool as Astarion crowds you, his chest pushed tight against your breasts. You widen your legs slightly and he quickly fills the space, a covered thigh coming to rest in between the slight spread of your own.

Astarion’s lips move to your jaw, your head tilting for him as the hand on your neck gives one last squeeze before brushing down your side until it finds your hip. The thigh between your legs presses in harder, and you thank the Gods that Astarion had the wherewithal to design a gown with such a high slit as you feel the fabric of his pants against your bare skin of your upper thigh.

The hand on your hip pushes you slightly forward and your covered center makes contact, the hard muscles of his leg rubbing deliciously against your core. You choke on a moan, and you can feel his smirk against your skin as his lips caress that spot behind your ear you love so much.

“Do you think you can do it? Ride my thigh with all these people milling about?” His words are spoken low into your ear as your eyes fall shut at the tone of his voice, the devious lust that permeates every word sending a shiver through your body.

You bite your lip as you tug him closer, burying your face into his neck. You move your hips, starting with a slow movement, barely enough to provide any relief. But you feel it, all the same, cheeks flaming as you focus on Astarion and his leg, the alcohol drowning out the noise of the rest of the ball around you.

What must you look like, you wonder, to anyone who happens to look on? You hope that the image of you together is only that of a pair of lovers embracing closely, too lost in their own world to care about anything else.

You can feel your wetness growing with every pass over his thigh as your hips undulate in soft motions, Astarion’s body pressed as close as possible to your own, shielding you with his form as much as he can from your place in the shadows.

The feeling is wonderful, enticing in such a public arena, but it is far from enough. Your arousal grows, the dampness seeping through your underwear and onto the dark velvet of his pants as his cock twitches against you, his length hard as it strains against the fabric.

You feel his hand come down from your waist to brush against the slit where it falls against your thigh, his fingers tracing up and down your skin in teasing passes.

Those fingers slide inside the skirt of your gown, grazing the outside of your thigh as they make their way towards your ass. Your skin is hot where his cool fingers touch, a blazing line of heat marking every movement they make as he caresses the flesh barely hidden by your underwear.

“How wet are you, darling?” His words are sinful as he whispers them in your ear, hand easing under the line of your panties to rub against your bottom, his fingers creeping ever closer to the place where your aching cunt connects with his leg.

“Astarion,” You whine in his ear, hand gripping the collar of his doublet. “Please.”

You don’t even know what you are begging for, but as Astarion’s fingers finally find your wetness you are unable to conceal the moan that falls from your lips. His fingers move, just enough to gather evidence of your arousal on his fingertips.

“Oh, you sweet thing. You like this, don’t you?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hand trails away from the center of you, brushing back past your underwear and out of your gown. He brings the fingertips up to press against his lips, tongue sneaking out to lick at the slight sheen that coats them.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight, your breathing hard as your eyes trace his features.

Astarion’s hand covers your own where it grips at his collar as his other adjusts himself in his pants, hiding his erection as best he can from sight. He pulls away from you, helping you adjust your dress with quick fingers. Your eyes catch upon the sight of your arousal on his pants, catching the light as he turns. You cheeks burn at the sight, your swallow audible.

“Follow me, love.” You don’t question him on where he is heading as he makes a line for the closest set of ballroom doors, pace quick as he weaves the both of you through the sea of bodies that make up the cities’ finest members of society.

“Are we going home?” You whisper quietly as you follow, unsure if you were ready to commit the incandescent aura of the evening to memory alone quite yet.

It had taken hours to get ready, time spent bathing together before pampering each other—applying scented oils on skin and through hair, Astarion helping you pin your hair into its complicated updo this evening taking almost an hour alone, his fingers applying the rouge to your cheeks and lips with care as he admired your features with the utmost affection. No, you certainly weren’t ready to leave quite yet.

“It would be a shame to end the evening so early, don’t you think?” Relief and joy spills through you in equal measure at his words, eager to continue tonight’s festivities, whatever they may be.

You walk through the main hall, hand in hand with Astarion, the wine still buzzing in your head as he draws you up the large, elegant staircase of swirling marble. Your presence goes unnoticed as you pass others dressed in their own finery, shimmers of glitters and gems, silks and tulles flowing past as you climb step after step.

You make it up the rise of the large staircase, skirt twirling as you spin around momentarily to take in the scene of the party now beneath you. Its a world of luster that takes your breath away, everything filtered with the heady glow from the candelabras and wine flowing aplenty.

With a tug on your hand, Astarion leads you away from the center of the room, breaking off to go down a smaller corridor to the side before cutting aside on one or two more until you are isolated, the noise of the orchestra below now faraway and faint.

The hallway feels hushed and hidden away, safe from the prying eyes of society as the candlelight sconces adorning the walls flicker, dancing fragment of light illuminating the narrow corridor. Astarion walks you back with hands on your waist until you feel the half-paneled wall against your uncovered back, the wallpaper ornate with scrolling vines and berries, vibrant reds and greens contrasting against the darkness of your gown.

Astarion’s head bends to your chest, pressing a tender kiss onto the swell of your breast, over the place your heart beats in three-quarter time.

“Have I mentioned how absolutely divine you look, darling?”

“Well, you did make the gown.” Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him closer to your breasts as you arch into him. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking at the skin bared to him above the low neckline.

“It’s quite easy when you have such a lovely muse.” His nose nuzzles at the flesh of your breast, breathing in your scent as he groans against you, pressing his hips against your own so you can feel the evidence of his prominent erection.

Astarion bites down into the flesh of your breast that rises above your gown without warning, fangs piercing the tender skin that heaves with your breath as he drinks in the sweetness of your blood. It flows thick in brightly colored streams, a surprised moan ripping from your lips at the sudden action.

He sucks from the swell above your gown, blood dripping to stain the bodice as he licks and tastes the rich claret of you made all the sweeter from the wine, his hand drawing down your belly before dipping lower.

He finds that slit on your thigh, hand working its way underneath before moving to cup around your wetness as you cover your mouth with your hand, hiding your moans behind a palm as your eyes flutter shut.

Astarion moans at the dampness he finds there, fingers quick to push aside the gusset of your underwear to run his fingers through your slick folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, spreading your wetness up and down the expanse of your center. You can feel his erection pressing against you, still hidden by his pants as he relishes your body’s reaction to his actions, lips still licking and sucking at the skin of your breast.

The fingers at your core move to rub your clit, the light pressure a relief as you bite your bottom lip to keep quiet, eyes glancing to the side quickly before closing once more to indulge in the feeling, his mouth not letting up as he savors your lifeblood.

“Astarion, what if someone sees us?” Nerves make their way into your soft voice, barely a whisper as your body tenses slightly with unease at the prospect of being seen by another. Astarion’s head lifts away from your breast, fangs leaving twin pinpricks on your chest, blood pulsing from the wounds in time with your heart as his eyes draw up to your own.

“No one will recognize us, my dear.” A finger circles your entrance, and your knees threaten to buckle under the pleasure. “Though we can stop if you want to.”

You hesitate and Astarion’s fingers pause to give you time to think, his mouth still drinking from the blood leaking from your breast, tongue licking at any stray drops.

“No,” You shake your head, needing little time to ruminate on the decision. “Please, don’t stop.” You let the desperation you feel run into your hushed voice as you give him your consent to continue, your hands in his hair brushing through the strands as you buck your hips into his hand.

“Thank the Gods.” His finger pushes in, working its way into you with sinfully slow movements, your head hitting the wall behind you as you let out a hiss at the feeling. You can hear your wetness as his finger dives deep, the sound of it obscene in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Gods, you’re so wet,” He kisses against your collar bone, nuzzling into the skin there as he breathes in your scent. “Who knew you were such an exhibitionist? Absolutely filthy of you, sweetheart.”

You whine at his words, Astarion coaxing more quiet moans from your lips as his finger pumps deep inside you. His free hand trails up to your shoulder, pushing off the delicate strap of your gown before moving down to pull at your bodice.

Taking care not to rip the velvet, Astarion succeeds in freeing the breast he had fed on, hand coming up to weigh it in a palm as his mouth licks at the exposed nipple.

He sucks on the hardened peak as his finger pulls out of you only to be joined by a second a moment later, the stretch barely noticeable with your wetness aiding his smooth thrusts in and out of your cunt.

His fingers curl against your walls as his tongue licks at your nipple, laving the peak as he finds that special place, deep inside your body and presses into it.

He’s relentless as his mouth works your breast and his beautiful fingers fuck you, his other hand squeezing the breast still covered, fingers working underneath the fabric to brush at the nipple.

It would be so easy to come like this, a fact Astarion does not miss as he can feel your body’s reaction, the telltale tension building inside you. Slowly his fingers leave your heat, brushing up against your clit with slippery motions as you whimper at the loss of them. He presses one last kiss to the tip of your breast, still wet with his lingering saliva, before he lowers to his knees in front of you.

“Astarion, what are you doing?” Your words are breathless as your hands run through his hair, the mask on his face slightly askew.

“I still seem to be a bit peckish still, though for a slightly different taste.” Warmth rushes to your cheeks as they flush, the alcohol still floating through your body painting everything in that same warm haze that has surrounded you through the night.

Astarion’s hands glide up your legs, brushing over soft thighs as he grabs at either side of the underwear where it rests low across your hips. His eyes flick up to yours as he pulls it down, guiding the thin, lacy fabric down your legs. He’s unhurried, clearly not worried about being caught or seen as he takes his time while his eyes never leave yours. He steadies you as you step out of the panties, pocketing the damp lace with a roguish smirk and raise of his brows.

His hand wraps around your thigh, pushing it up and pinning it against the wallpaper as he holds you open to his gaze. Your pussy is absolutely dripping for him, the sight of his otherworldly beauty as he stares at the center of you, open for him, takes the breath from your lungs.

There would be no mistaking what was happening if someone were to come upon you now—Astarion kneeling before you, supplicant, as he bares you to himself—unmistakable to anyone gifted with eyesight.

Astarion leans in to press a kiss to the thigh he has pinned, lips moving across the smooth skin with the lightest of touches before skipping over your weeping core to kiss the opposite thigh. You whine at the blatant misdirection of his mouth, hips bucking in indignation with as much motion as you can manage.

“Oh, I’m sorry—did you want something, darling?” He moves his face away from your body to shoot a look upwards, his features smug as he sees the abject desire in your gaze tempering the glare you shoot down at him.

“I thought you were still hungry, dearest.” You keep your words sweet, not letting the aching want you feel bleed into your voice as your eyes narrow.

“Patience, sweet thing. I’m sure I’ve taught you about it once or twice before, have I not?” His head dips forward once more, breathing in the scent of your essence with a performative sigh. “Now, ask nicely. And do use your words and tell me what you want.”

“Astarion!” You start, exasperation building as you contemplate the words to say to appease him. He could be so demanding at times like this, a trait you found yourself caught between loving and hating in equal measure, though ‘loving’ did usually win out in the end.

You briefly debate making him wait for your words, watching his own impatience grow as you play coy, but this certainly isn’t the time or place for what could be a long, drawn out battle of wills on who would break first.

“Fine. Pretty please, Astarion, will you do me the honor of licking my cunt until I come? Preferably before we get caught?” Your frustration mounts as you say the words though you find the strength to keep your tone as breezy and unaffected as his own, despite the slight embarrassment beginning to creep in as the elusive power of the wine fades ever so slowly with every minute that passes.

Astarion grants you your wish with a wide, feline smile, licking a stripe up the center of you, his tongue running through your folds before brushing lightly against your clit as he savors the taste of you.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

His tongue laps at your folds, taking his time to move up and down in languid strokes, never focusing on any one place. It’s a maddening feeling, a whine slipping from your throat as your hips roll, asking for more.

His tongue dips into your entrance, whorling around the opening as he tastes you, his moan against your cunt matching the one that leaves your mouth. Your hands tighten in his hair, hips writhing as his tongue thrusts inside you.

Astarion is eager to taste your essence, tongue flicking deep in your waiting wetness as hushed cries fall from your lips with every brush against your walls. You could sob from the feeling of the lightning hot pleasure that works through your body in time with every push of his tongue. He eats you out like a man starved, his mouth moving against your entrance as he works to plunge you closer towards ecstasy.

His motions are fast-paced, quicker than normal as he works to bring you to your peak, and you whine once more when he tongue leaves to lave at your folds instead. Two fingers are quick to replace his tongue inside you as he circles your clit instead, flicking the pearl simultaneously with perfectly timed thrusts of his fingers, curling up into that special spot.

“You really are so good when you set your mind to it, love.”

Your pleasure ratchets higher, a tremor running through your body as the leg supporting you grows weak with your impending orgasm, muscles in your thigh shaking slightly.

“Astarion, please don’t stop,” Your begging only serves to spur him on, tongue moving faster and his fingers curling faster with a repetitive motion that has your body tightening around him.

“That’s it, darling, come for me.” Astarion’s words are reverent, and you embrace them as you hurtle over the edge, euphoria rushing through your body, the feeling enhanced by the leftover wine as your fingers grip tight in his hair.

You come on his fingers and tongue, Astarion working you through the waves of your completion as they flow through your body, your cunt spasming tight as his tongue doesn’t stop licking at your clit. You bite the flesh of your lip, the delicate skin splitting under your teeth as you keep the sounds of your orgasm at bay, tiny dots of red spilling over your lips.

You uncurl your fingers from his hair, smoothing out the curls as your breathing evens out and your orgasm leaves you in a sense of pleasant euphoria. Astarion presses soft kisses against the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers finally slow inside of you before pulling out. He places one last kiss to your entrance, licking up the remnants of your come before he leans back and places your leg back down onto the ground.

He rises from the floor with a graceful motion, hands skating up your curves as his mouth crashes against your own. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he kisses you, the flavor of your own blood and come dizzying.

Astarion licks at the blood on your lip, sucking on the mark as it bleeds. You open your mouth to him, his tongue tangling with your own as he deepens the kiss. Your hands work in a frenzy with his own to loosen his pants, the button finally coming free in your rush to free his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Astarion pulls his hardness from his underwear and you pump him, the velvety feel of his shaft warmer than normal as your blood courses through his veins. He moans into your mouth, hips pressing closer to you as you work his cock up and down, his precome shining in the light of the sconces as you spread the fluid on the heat of him.

His hands move down from your hips, brushing over your bottom as he grasps under the curve of your rear, squeezing.

“Up.” You are quick to obey, eager to feel him inside you as you jump up, Astarion catching you as his hips pin you in place against the wall, his hands supporting your weight in a tight hold against your ass.

The half paneling of the wall presses into your back as you push your dress out of the way, the skirt easily parting around the slit as you guide his cock to your waiting cunt, still wet with your come. Astarion stares at your mouth as you lick at the precome that coats your fingers, pupils blown wide as you take a finger into your mouth and suck.

“Like the taste, darling?” Astarion’s erection finds your entrance, your wetness coating the crown of his cock as he bucks in shallowly, the head barely pressing inside you.

“Always. I think I’d like to have a little more.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you roll your hips against his cock, taking him slightly deeper inside your waiting warmth as you lick at his lips.

Astarion lets out a low growl as he pushes inside you in a single thrust, gliding home as hips meet your own. You both moan at the feeling of him inside you, the satisfaction of Astarion finally filling you euphoric as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Did you design this dress thinking about how you would fuck me in it?” Astarion sets a steady pace as he moves his hips, your own meeting his thrusts as best as you can with such a limited range of motion.

“Of course I did,” He licks at the blood drying on your lip. “I thought about how beautiful you would look coming on my cock wearing it, too.”

He pumps his cock harder, hips rutting against your own as your arms around his neck tighten, bringing him ever closer to you. Your lips meet once more, pressing against one another’s to silence the noises of pleasure breaking from your throats with every thrust.

“No one can make you come like I can, can they?.” His words come on an quiet exhale of exertion, tinged with the smallest bit os what sounds like possession, his lips brushing against your own with each syllable that leaves his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re still jealous, Astarion?” You can still feel the leftover fog from your orgasm, hands playing the hair at the nape of his neck, the strands soft against your fingers as you try catch your breath in vain, every thrust of his cock making it harder and harder to breathe.

“I want to hear you to say it.” The hands on your ass squeeze, cock hammering harder into your center. “Say: ‘No one can fuck me like you’.”

There’s a familiarity to the veiled desperation in voice, though its been years since you’ve heard it. You would know the sound of it anywhere, the cadence of his longing to be wanted and loved and cared for burned into your mind for eternity, settling there like a haze over your vision.

Your heart grows tender at his words, and you hold onto him tighter, pressing a kiss to his lips before giving him the words you know he needs to hear from your rouged lips.

“No one can make me come like you,” A kiss to the tip of his nose where his face rests close to your own.

“No one can fuck me like you,” A kiss to one cheek, then the other.

“There is no one for me but you, Astarion. Only you.” Finally, his lips—your love and passion pouring out onto him with the simple press of your lips against his, a hand coming to brush his cheek.

“Gods, I love you.” His thrusts grow sloppy as he grips your hips harder, mouth falling open against your own as his pleasure builds.

“I love you too.” You lips part with the tilt of your head backwards as Astarion hits a particularly deep place inside you, fingers curling hard into the fabric covering his shoulders. He thrusts faster, making sure to hit against the same spot on every push forward.

Astarion’s hand sneaks from behind you to press against your clit, rubbing quick circles as his thrusts grow frenzied, losing their rhythm as he chases his impending high, intent to bring you with him over the edge.

“Will you come inside me? I want to feel you.” You press a kiss onto the shell of his ears as you whisper the words, your tongue darting out to tease at the sensitive skin of the elegant point.

“Is that what you want, darling? My come?” His hips stutter at your words spoken so intimately as you clutch at him, the warmth of your cunt drawing him closer and closer to his peak.

“Gods, yes. Please!” You aren’t afraid to beg as his fingers strum fast on your clit as his thrusts hit deep, your vision clouding over as another orgasm nears.

“Then take it, love.” Astarion buries his face into your neck as he comes, hot spurts of his spend spilling deep inside your body as you ride him through his completion. The feeling of him coming is exhilarating, and his fingers don’t stop until you crest over with him, the contractions of your cunt drawing him in tight as you take all you can of him as he hides his moans into your skin.

You roll your hips on his still hard cock as you work yourself through your orgasm, Astarion still pumping his own shallowly inside you as he comes down, breath hot against your neck.

Slowly, the world settles back down, both you coming back to yourselves from where you stand against the wall, breathing slowing.

Astarion’s cock is soft as he pulls from you, his come sliding out with it to make a mess onto your thighs. Astarion watches as his come collects at your entrance, the fingers on your clit moving downwards to push it back inside you with a gentle motion.

“Waste not, want not, my love.” Astarion’s finger curls one last time to press against your walls as you squirm, your body overly sensitive in the aftermath of your orgasm.

He presses a kiss to your forehead before removing his finger, moving his hands to help you stand back on the floor with steady feet.

He pulls your panties out of his pocket, bending down onto a knee as he helps you back into them, gently lifting one ankle after the other as you still catch your breath, before he raises the ruined lace back up your legs.

He adjusts the skirt of your gown, making sure the velvet falls perfectly before he presses a soft kiss to your covered stomach. He rises, fingers tracing your form as he does, dragging the long forgotten silk shoulder strap back where it belongs as you work your breast back into the bodice.

“Astarion.” You touch at his cheek, capturing his attention as he looks back at you. His gaze is clear as his eyes meet your own, the beautiful crimson red of them soft as he searches your face.

“You really are the only one, Astarion. You are the only one I will ever love, until my dying breath. There will never be anyone else.” You watch as your words settle over him like a balm, the love you feel radiating into him as he accepts them into his own heart.

His features soften even as he scoffs at your words, his hand coming up to cover your own on his face despite himself.

“Oh, I know. Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.” You let him lie, willing to let him keep this facade in tact.

“I’ll say it as many times as you wish.” Astarion’s hand takes your own where it rests on his face, pressing a kiss into the palm before lowering your joined hands.

“I’ll be sure to let you know, darling.” Astarion adjusts his own finery, settling the velvet back to rights as his eyes draw to the bodice of your ruined gown.

“Did you account for potential bloodshed when you designed the dress too?” You remark as you eyes follow his own line of sight, looking down at the blood staining the velvet dark with wet, sticky blotches.

“Let’s just be thankful that blood and wine look similar.”

“Nothing we can do about that bite mark though.” You sigh as you attempt to pull up the neckline slightly higher to no avail.

“Everyone will simply have to be left to wonder, then, won’t they?” Astarion bends down to press a fluttering kiss over the marks decorating your chest, squeezing your hand.

“Think you have another dance in you?” You squeeze at his hand back in response.

“I suppose we still have a few more hours before sunrise to wile away.” Astarion walks, gently pulling you after him as the pair of you make your way back to the glittering ballroom below. “Let’s go have some more fun.”

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #my writing #love u all thanks for reading kisses

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fr0stf4ll · 3 months ago

Text

Forge of Starlight - Part 7

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

word count ; 4.6k

warning; /

notes; hope that you enjoy the chapter ... <3

here is the link for part 6 or part 8

---

The walk back to your shop was quiet, the night air cool against your skin as you and Azriel made your way through the sleeping streets of Velaris. The warmth of your shared moments still lingered between you, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort with Azriel by your side. But as the shop came into view, the weight of the mysterious order returned, pulling you both back into the reality of the situation.

Once inside the shop, you led Azriel to the back room where you had left the letter. The forge was dark and quiet now, the earlier warmth replaced by the cool stillness of the night. You retrieved the letter from where you had tucked it away and handed it to Azriel, watching as his eyes scanned the elegant script.

His brow furrowed as he examined the seal, the strange symbol embossed in the wax catching his attention. He turned it over in his hands, studying it carefully before shaking his head. “This symbol doesn’t ring any bells. It’s not something I’ve come across before, and I’ve seen a lot of seals and crests in my time.”

You nodded, already suspecting that the symbol was something unusual. “It didn’t look familiar to me either, which is why it caught my attention in the first place.”

Azriel’s gaze lifted to meet yours, his eyes serious. “Tell me about the magic they’re asking for in the sword. What’s its purpose?”

You sighed, glancing down at the letter as you considered how to explain it. “I’m no expert, but I’ve seen these types of runes before. They’re used in very specific, very dark enchantments. The runes they’re asking for are meant to create a blade that catches souls.”

Azriel’s expression shifted to one of confusion and concern. “Catches souls? What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, knowing how heavy the truth would be. “When you kill someone with a blade like this, their soul doesn’t pass on. It gets trapped within the sword, bound to it. The sword becomes a vessel for the souls of its victims, storing them indefinitely.”

Azriel’s face darkened at your words, his brows knitting together in a deep frown. “That’s… twisted. Why would anyone want a weapon like that?”

You shook your head, unable to find a logical answer. “I don’t know. But whoever commissioned this sword must have a very specific, very disturbing purpose in mind.”

Azriel set the letter down on the table, his jaw tight with tension. “This sounds more dangerous than anything. You shouldn’t go through with it, Y/N. There’s too much at stake here, and something about this whole situation feels… wrong.”

You met his gaze, seeing the worry and protectiveness in his eyes. The same unease that had been gnawing at you since the order came in now felt magnified by his concern. “I agree. I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s not worth the risk, and I don’t want to get involved in whatever this is.”

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad you see it that way. It’s better to be safe, especially with something this dark.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders now that the decision was made. “I’ll send word tomorrow that I’m refusing the order. If they push back, I’ll stand my ground.”

Azriel stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against your arm in a comforting gesture. “You don’t have to handle this alone, Y/N. If they give you any trouble, I’ll be here to help.”

His touch was warm and reassuring, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the closeness between you. “Thank you, Azriel. That means a lot to me.”

He offered you a small, comforting smile, the tension between you easing as the conversation shifted away from the danger and back to the quiet intimacy of the night. “I should probably let you get some rest,” he said softly, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You nodded, though part of you wanted to ask him to stay just a little longer. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

As Azriel turned to leave, the quiet of the night settling around you, you felt a sudden reluctance to let him go. You reached out, gently catching his hand before he could step away completely.

“Azriel,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “About the letter… would you mind taking it with you? Maybe you could look into that seal, see if your network can find anything.”

He paused, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise before they softened into a gentle smile. “I was actually going to ask if I could take it. I’ll have my spies look into it and see if we can find out more. Whatever this is, it’s better to be cautious.”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. “Thank you. I’d feel better knowing it’s in your hands.”

Azriel’s hand tightened slightly around yours, a quiet reassurance in his touch. The moment lingered between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the quiet understanding that had grown between you throughout the night.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you took a small step closer, your free hand coming up to rest against his chest. You felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, and when you looked up at him, you found his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was a gentle kiss, filled with the promise of something more, something that was just beginning to blossom between you. Azriel responded immediately, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss just enough to leave you both slightly breathless.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, the world outside the shop forgotten in that quiet, intimate moment.

“I’ll be careful,” you whispered, your voice carrying the weight of the promise you were making, not just to him, but to yourself.

Azriel smiled softly, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I know you will. And I’ll be here, whatever happens next.”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep within you. With a final, tender kiss to your forehead, Azriel stepped back, his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer before he let go.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said softly, his voice carrying a promise of its own.

You watched as he turned and stepped out into the night, the door closing softly behind him. For a moment, you stood there, the warmth of the kiss still tingling on your lips, the weight of the letter now passed on to someone you trusted implicitly.

With a small, contented smile, you turned off the lights and headed upstairs to your apartment. As you climbed into bed, the events of the night replayed in your mind, the memory of Azriel’s kiss lingering as you drifted off to sleep, a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold.

——

The House of Wind was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth as Rhysand and Cassian lounged in the living room, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. They had been waiting for a while, their usual banter having faded into a comfortable silence as they awaited Azriel's return.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You think he’s off doing something shady, or just being his usual brooding self?"

Rhysand chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Knowing Az, probably a bit of both. But he’s been acting different lately—less brooding, more... distracted."

Cassian raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with interest. "Distracted, huh? You think he’s got something—or someone—on his mind?"

Rhysand smirked, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. "I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s been disappearing more often, hasn’t he?"

As if on cue, the front door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside, his wings folding neatly behind him as he made his way into the room. His expression was calm, collected—perhaps a bit too calm, given the circumstances.

Cassian was the first to pounce, his grin widening as he eyed Azriel with suspicion. "Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence. Where’ve you been, Az?"

Azriel shrugged, his face betraying nothing as he replied, "Out."

Rhysand arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by Azriel’s attempt at evasion. "Out where? You don’t usually take this long on a simple errand."

Azriel’s lips twitched, but he kept his tone even. "Just taking care of something."

Cassian exchanged a glance with Rhysand, both of them clearly not buying Azriel’s nonchalant answers. "Uh-huh. And this ‘something’ wouldn’t happen to involve a certain blacksmith in Velaris, would it?"

Azriel shot Cassian a sidelong glance, his expression carefully neutral. "Why would you think that?"

Rhysand leaned forward, his interest piqued. "Oh, come on, Az. You can’t fool us. We’ve noticed you sneaking off more frequently—and it just so happens that you’re always heading in the direction of Y/N’s shop."

Azriel’s silence spoke volumes, and the corners of Cassian’s mouth lifted into a knowing grin. "So, did you kiss her?"

Azriel’s jaw clenched slightly, but he didn’t respond. His silence only served to fuel the fire, and Cassian’s grin turned into a full-on smirk.

"Oh, fuck," Cassian groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the chair. "The kid won the bet."

Rhysand looked at Cassian, his amusement evident. "What bet?"

Cassian let out a resigned sigh. "I made a bet with Alex. I said they wouldn’t kiss until the second date, but that little shit was convinced it would happen on the first."

Rhysand couldn’t contain his laughter, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back in his chair. "You made a bet with a ten-year-old, and you lost?"

Cassian groaned again, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, and now I owe him. Damn it, Az, couldn’t you have waited until the second date?"

Azriel finally allowed a small smile to tug at his lips, his gaze shifting between his two friends. "You shouldn’t have made the bet in the first place."

Cassian grumbled, but there was no real heat in it. "Yeah, yeah. Just wait until you have to deal with him gloating about it."

Rhysand leaned forward, his eyes still gleaming with humor. "So, you really kissed her, huh? How was it?"

Azriel’s smile softened, his thoughts drifting back to the quiet moment under the stars. "It was... perfect."

Rhysand leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. "It’s about time, Az. You deserve something good in your life."

Cassian, still sulking over his lost bet, couldn’t help but chuckle. "Yeah, and next time, maybe wait a little longer so I don’t end up in debt to a kid."

Azriel shook his head, a rare chuckle escaping him. "I’ll keep that in mind."

The three of them settled into a comfortable silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. Despite the teasing, there was an unspoken understanding between them—a bond that went beyond words, forged in battle and strengthened by years of friendship.

As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to other topics, the easy camaraderie between the three warriors filling the room. But in the back of his mind, Azriel couldn’t help but replay the evening’s events, a soft smile lingering on his lips as he thought of you.

——

The days flowed smoothly after that fateful night, a comfortable rhythm settling over your life in Velaris. The shop bustled with activity as more customers came by, drawn by your reputation and the quality of your work. Alex was his usual lively self, helping out with the customers and occasionally throwing in a cheeky comment or two that never failed to make you laugh.

Azriel became a frequent visitor at the shop, his presence now a regular part of your routine. He would stop by during the quieter moments of the day, sometimes bringing you lunch, other times simply staying for a chat as you worked. There was an ease between you now, a quiet understanding that grew with each passing day.

One afternoon, as you were finishing up the final touches on a sword, the door to the shop swung open, and you looked up to see Cassian strolling in with his usual swagger. He greeted you with a wide grin, but it was the sight of him handing Alex a small pouch full of gold coins that really caught your attention.

Alex, ever the charmer, opened the pouch and gave a low whistle. "Pleasure doing business with you, General," he said with a mock bow, his grin as wide as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, wiping your hands on a cloth as you approached them. "What’s this about, then?"

Cassian looked caught for a moment, but then he let out a hearty laugh. "Just paying off a little debt, Y/N. Seems your apprentice here had more faith in Azriel’s romantic abilities than I did."

You couldn’t help but laugh, your eyes narrowing playfully as you glanced between the two of them. "So, this is about that bet, huh? Should’ve known Alex would win."

Alex puffed out his chest with pride. "I told you, Nana, always trust my instincts. Now, if only every bet was this profitable."

Cassian rolled his eyes, though his grin never wavered. "Careful, kid. Too much confidence and you might find yourself in over your head."

Alex just shrugged, tucking the pouch away. "I’ll take my chances."

You shook your head at their banter, but there was a warmth in your chest as you watched the two of them. Cassian’s visits were always a bit of chaotic fun, and it was clear he had a soft spot for Alex, despite all the teasing.

As the week continued, you couldn’t help but notice how Azriel made a point to keep you updated on his progress with the letter and the mysterious order. He’d stop by, his expression serious as he shared whatever new information he had uncovered.

“It’s been difficult to trace the seal,” Azriel mentioned one evening as you were closing up the shop. He leaned against the counter, his brows furrowed in thought. “It doesn’t match any known factions or groups that we’ve encountered before. Whoever they are, they’re good at staying hidden.”

You nodded, wiping down the counter as you listened. “I expected as much. This whole thing felt off from the start.”

Azriel looked at you, his gaze softening slightly. “I’m glad you decided to decline the order. It’s too dangerous to get involved with something like this.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful for his concern. “I sent back a letter a few days ago, stating that I couldn’t fulfill the request in such a short time and with the materials they were asking for. I haven’t heard back since.”

Azriel nodded, looking somewhat relieved. “Good. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

The exchange was typical of the conversations you’d been having lately—serious, focused on the task at hand, but always with an underlying current of warmth. It was clear that Azriel was genuinely invested in your safety, and that knowledge brought a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

As the week drew to a close, you found yourself reflecting on how much had changed in such a short amount of time. The shop was thriving, your bond with Alex was stronger than ever, and Azriel… well, Azriel had become an important part of your life, whether you had intended for that to happen or not.

The night had fallen deep and quiet over Velaris by the time you arrived at the Town House, the moon hanging high in the sky, casting a silver light over the city. The streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional guard or late-night traveler making their way home. The air was cool, with a faint breeze that stirred the leaves and whispered through the alleyways, carrying with it the promise of something darker on the horizon.

You had left Alex back at your apartment, assuring him that you wouldn’t be long. It was late, but Rhysand had requested a meeting, and you knew it was important. The weight of the past week hung heavy on your mind, and though you had declined the mysterious order, the unease still lingered.

As you entered the Town House, you were greeted by the familiar warmth of the place, but tonight, it felt different��more serious, more urgent. The usual lighthearted banter that often filled the rooms was absent, replaced by a quiet intensity that set you on edge.

Rhysand was already seated in the main sitting room when you arrived, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as he watched you enter. Cassian and Mor were there as well, Cassian leaning casually against the mantel, while Mor sat elegantly on the couch, her gaze flicking to you with a small, welcoming smile. Azriel was the last to arrive, his entrance almost silent, but you felt the shift in the air as he took his place near the shadows, ever watchful.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," Rhysand said, his voice smooth and calm, but with an undercurrent of seriousness that matched the atmosphere. "I appreciate you making time, especially so late."

You offered a small nod, taking a seat across from him. "Of course, Rhys. What’s this about?"

Rhysand exchanged a glance with Cassian and Mor before turning his attention back to you. "As you know, the Night Court’s relationships with the other courts—both on the continent and beyond—are delicate. We’ve worked hard to maintain peace and foster alliances, but there are always those who would see us weakened or divided."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "You’ve done well in keeping the balance, but I imagine that’s not easy."

"It isn’t," Rhysand admitted, his gaze steady. "And lately, we’ve had reason to believe that certain factions within the courts are growing restless. There’s talk of old alliances crumbling and new ones being forged, some of which could threaten the stability we’ve worked so hard to maintain."

Mor leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. "We need to be proactive. The other courts respect you, Y/N. You’ve built relationships with many of the High Lords, and that makes you uniquely positioned to help us."

Cassian chimed in, his tone less playful than usual. "We’re not asking you to do anything dangerous. We just need your insight—your understanding of the dynamics at play. If there’s a way to strengthen our alliances or to identify potential threats before they become real problems, we need to know."

You felt the weight of their request settle over you, and you took a moment to consider it. The Night Court had always been careful in its dealings with the other courts, but you knew that the balance was fragile, easily disrupted by the ambitions of others.

Azriel’s voice cut through the silence, calm and measured. "You’ve traveled to almost every court, Y/N. You know the High Lords, their strengths and weaknesses, better than most. We could use that knowledge."

You met Azriel’s gaze, seeing the trust and respect in his eyes. It was clear that this was more than just a request for help—it was an acknowledgment of your importance to the Night Court, and perhaps even something more.

"What exactly are you asking me to do?" you asked, your tone thoughtful.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "For now, we need your perspective. If you think there are ways we can improve our relationships with the other courts—especially those on the continent—I want to hear them. Beyond that, if you feel comfortable reaching out to some of your contacts, it could help us gauge where we stand."

You nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation settling over you. "I can do that. But you should know that while I’ve built relationships, not all of them are as strong as they could be. Some of the High Lords are… complicated."

Cassian let out a soft huff of amusement. "Aren’t they all?"

Mor’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at you. "We don’t expect miracles, Y/N. Just your honest opinion. If there are dangers we need to be aware of, or opportunities we can seize, we trust you to tell us."

You appreciated the trust they were placing in you, but you also felt the weight of the responsibility. The politics of Prythian were as dangerous as any battlefield, and one wrong move could have devastating consequences.

"I’ll do what I can," you said finally, your voice steady. "I’ll think on it, and I’ll reach out to those I can trust. But we need to be careful. There are forces at play that we may not fully understand."

Rhysand nodded, his expression grave. "We’re aware. And that’s why we’re counting on you. Your insight could make all the difference."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. It was clear that this was more than just a simple request—it was a turning point, one that could shape the future of the Night Court and Prythian as a whole.

Azriel broke the silence, his voice low. "We’ll take it one step at a time. No need to rush into anything."

You nodded, feeling the tension in your chest ease slightly at his words. "Agreed. Let’s approach this carefully."

Cassian pushed off the mantel, his usual humor returning as he clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough of the heavy talk for one night. I think we’ve all had enough of politics for the evening."

Mor smiled, the tension in the room easing as she relaxed back into her seat. "I couldn’t agree more."

Rhysand stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Thank you, Y/N. We’ll talk more in the coming days. But for now, get some rest."

You rose from your seat, offering a small smile in return. "I will. Thank you."

As you made your way to the door, Azriel fell into step beside you, his presence a comforting shadow at your side. The night was still and quiet as you stepped out into the cool air, the weight of the meeting still lingering in your mind.

"Walk you home?" Azriel offered, his voice soft.

You nodded, grateful for the company. "I’d like that."

As you and Azriel walked through the quiet streets of Velaris, the conversation turned naturally to the High Lords you had met over the years. The night air was cool, and the stars above cast a soft, silvery glow on the cobblestone streets.

“You know,” you began, your voice thoughtful, “there are a few High Lords I’ve always found… intriguing. Helion, for one. He’s a shrewd negotiator, but he respects strength. We’ve always had a decent rapport.”

Azriel nodded, listening intently as you spoke. “Helion’s a good ally, though his court’s penchant for secrets rivals our own. And what about Thesan? The Dawn Court tends to stay neutral, but they hold a lot of influence.”

You smiled, recalling your interactions with the calm and measured High Lord of the Dawn Court. “Thesan’s always been respectful. He’s more interested in knowledge than power, but that makes him valuable in a different way.”

Azriel squeezed your hand gently as you continued to walk, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin. His eyes were thoughtful as he considered your words. “These connections could be vital in the coming days. Knowing who we can count on—and who might be swayed—will make all the difference.”

You were about to respond, to delve deeper into your thoughts on the other High Lords, when you suddenly noticed that Azriel had stopped walking. He turned to face you, his gaze intense as he looked into your eyes.

“Azriel, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft with concern.

For a moment, he said nothing, simply studying you with that same unwavering gaze. Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and filled with a restrained longing. The world seemed to pause around you, the only sound the quiet hum of the night as Azriel’s hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer.

When he finally pulled away, his breath warm against your lips, he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile, even as you playfully smacked his arm. “You should’ve done it sooner, then.”

He chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your waist as the two of you resumed your walk. The weight of the meeting was still there, but the kiss had lightened the air between you, bringing a sense of closeness that made the night feel a little less daunting.

As you approached your apartment, you hesitated for a moment before turning to Azriel. “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? It’s late, but…”

Azriel smiled, his eyes softening. “I’d like that.”

But just as you reached for the door, a sharp, metallic scent hit your senses—blood. The air was thick with it, the smell so strong it made your stomach churn. Azriel tensed beside you, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his blade as his shadows flared around him.

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. Without waiting for a response, you shoved the door open and rushed inside, fear gripping your heart.

The scene that greeted you was one of horror. Stellan, your loyal dire wolf, lay motionless on the floor, his white fur stained red with blood. His lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling, and a strangled cry escaped your throat as you dropped to your knees beside him, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch his still-warm body.

“No… no, no, no…” The words came out in a desperate whisper, your mind refusing to accept what your eyes were seeing.

Azriel was beside you in an instant, his expression dark as he scanned the room. But there was no sign of Alex—no sign of the boy who had become like family to you.

“Alex!” you called out, your voice cracking with panic. But there was no answer, only the oppressive silence of the room, broken by the sound of your own ragged breathing.

It was then that you noticed the pendant, a gift from the Winter Court, lying on the floor beside a pool of blood. Your heart clenched painfully as you picked it up, your hands shaking. The blood that covered it was still fresh, a grim reminder of what had been taken from you.

And next to the pendant, partially obscured by Stellan’s body, was a letter. The same seal, the same elegant script—the same cursed symbol that had marked the letter you had declined to fulfil.

Azriel’s hand was on your shoulder, grounding you as you struggled to process what had happened. His voice was low, filled with a simmering fury that matched your own. “They’ve taken him.”

You nodded, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you clutched the pendant tightly in your hand. “We have to find him, Azriel. We have to get him back.”

Azriel’s gaze hardened, his shadows swirling around him like a dark storm. “We will. I promise you, Y/N. We’ll make them pay for this.”

The determination in his voice was the only thing that kept you from breaking down completely. With a final, trembling breath, you stood, your eyes locking with Azriel’s. “Let’s go.”

And with that, the two of you set out into the night, driven by a single, unrelenting purpose—to find Alex and to bring him home, no matter the cost.

---

please don't kill me for the end of the chapter <3

tag list: @annamariereads16 @hanatsuki-hime @elsie-bells @shizukestar @rose-girls-world @brit-broskis-cole-fanfic @faridathefairy @elsie-bells @faridathefairy @wolfbc97 @rcarbo1 @kitsunetori @hufflepuff-pa55 @proclivity-for-fantasy-97 @sometimeseverythingsucks @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @lilah-asteria

don't hesitate to comment if you want to be added to the tag list ;)))

#azriel fic #rhysand #azriel #cassian #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #sword #a court of thorns and roses #acotar series #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar x you

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thesharktanksdriver · 2 years ago

Text

Pen Pal (Platonic)

Part 1 part 2 part 3 Part 4

Y’all asked for Konig and y’all have received

This probably isn’t how people thought the initial meeting would go but I decided to shake it up a bit

Cause I like being silly goofy like that

I’m planning to soon do something with shadow company and have that lead into the main story of modern warfare 2 so be prepared

(Y’all can tell I’ve started watching Nana)

high school is shit

That was something you remember clear as day. The reason as to why is much more complicated than the reaction

Perhaps is was due to the people, petty drama, bad teachers, the time or place but in general high school just generally wasn’t the best

You went their for basically nothing in the end since you enlisted as quick as you could

But if there was one thing high school did for you it was helping you find one good friend

It was during English class that your teach had the idea of giving everyone a slightly different school project

She got in contact with her brother (who if you remember correctly was in the military abroad) and had him help her set up a pen pal program

Simply put, she gave everyone an assigned soldier to write to abroad

Fun right?

For others it was a chore but for you it was something that had changed your direction in life

The first letters were slightly awkward as expected. You were a young and dumb teen and this was someone who had likely killed men with his bear hands

But after a while you began to enjoy the days in which your reach would deliver mail to the class

He didn’t tell you his real name for safety reason but he did tell you his call sign “könig” German for “king”

He’s from Austria, enjoys mundane things like baking and reading

Particularly books like pride and prejudice and The hobbit which leads to you both giving each other recommendations

It feels nice writing to him, talking about your problems to a neutral source who gives you the best advice he can

Though he talks of the horrors he’s seen there’s a certain sense of pride in his words as he talks of being a protector

of people like you

At some point during those letters it became more than just talking to a stranger, you both had become friends despite never meeting

As the initial project comes to a close you keep sending him letters and he always responds back

At this point you began to open up about your life just as he does the same

König talks of his childhood. Being the lone child whom the others bullied, called a monster due to his highly

How it lead to his already bad social anxiety to become worse as their words cut him down from a mountain to a grain of sand

In turn you told him of your childhood, your fears and anxieties since you didn’t know what to do with your life

The constant pressure to succeed in a world that was against you since the start

The loneliness you felt on a constant basis despite the facade of a smile you out on

During this duration you didn’t tell him of your plan to enlist

You knew he’d be upset, be angry at the mere thought of putting your life on the line

With each letter you place little stickers and glitter inside as a fun surprise for him

At one point even getting a wax seal of a crown that you used gold and black wax on your letter from there on out

As the end of the year rears it’s ugly head into view, and as you prepare for graduation and prom you decided to add a new little surprise in one of your letters

Whatever König had expected it certainly was a little Polaroid of you smiling back at him

On the back of it addressed “to my Hero”

The letter is a thank you note, heartfelt and pure. He even sees small tear marks now dried up on the yellowed and soft paper

Old pressed flowers (Edelweiss specifically) packed into it just as his Oma did for her scrapbooks like he had mentioned months ago

He cries while reading it, your words forever ending up ingrained in his mind every time he went into the battlefield

It made him remember why his job was so important

To serve, and most importantly to protect people like you

He keeps one of those dried Edelweiss in his pocket for good luck and keeps that letter and Polaroid locked away safely

You continued to mail to him even after joining, you end up lying to him about getting a normal job and now just being busy

He mails them to your home address and you have your landlord mail it to you at base

Your lie continues on…until 141 teams up with the private military contractor “Kortac” for a mission

König never told you who he was working for so you initially didn’t think much of it

In fact you were kinda annoyed to be dragged by Ghost to a stuffy meeting room to meet these guys

Like why meet people in this stuffy room?, why not take them around base? Or literally anywhere else

Oh well, at least you get to spin around in the spiny office chairs

And then the group comes in

You stop spinning, eyes now looking over the men who are sitting down expect for the one in a sniper hood

He’s tall, like really tall, tall enough that he has to bend over to ever get through the frame of the doorway

Damn…you wish you had the height when Price would place your shit on the highest shelf. It would save you a lot of times you climbed stuff to reach it

He continues to stand there, staring at you making you feel a bit uncomfortable under his gaze

Ghost notices this and glances at your and then at him. He sends a glare but the guy doesn’t even notice

“Oi König!, you alright?” One of his teammates asked disrupting him from his thoughts

Now it’s your turn to be left staring, mouth agape as terror fills

Uh oh

As Price talks with the captain and chatter fills the room he’s still staring and Ghost notices how your still uncomfortable

You turn to him asking to leave the room as you glance back at König

He’s hesitant but trusts you so he nods, not before grabbing your wrist and adding “if he causes you any problems he’ll for me aight?”

You nod and leave the room

König following after and into the silent halls of the base

To say he’s angry is an understatement, he’s fucking pissed

Your lucky you took him far enough away from the room or else they’d hear him yelling in furious German

And it’s German so it makes him sound even more pissed off and scary than he already is

At some point he takes a step forward and tries to place a hand on your shoulder and you flinch back

He freezes, now seeing your teary eyes as you stare up at him. Their glassy almost like the eyes of old porcelain dolls he’d see in antique stores

He takes a step back, his mind now clearing up as he finally asks “why?”

“Why enlist?, do all of this?. You had a bright future ahead of you” he sounds defeated as he says this, hands shaking as he adds “was it because of me you joined?!, I never wanted that for you. You shouldn’t have to throw Aw-“

“König it was my choice so don’t you dare start blaming yourself for this. I never had a future in the first place, I had no fucking clue what to do with my life and this was the only thing that came to mind. I joined because I thought for once I could do something good with my life, to help others like you do”

He goes silent after that, your almost convinced for a moment that he’s a statue

And then he crumbles like a ancient monument meant to last

He hold you as if your made of glass, his friend who he was fighting for is now on the battlefield just like him

And like when you sent that letter thanking him he cries

You just hold him, now realizing you had a much tighter grip on his life than you had expected

You always thought that he probably saw you as annoying or just a fun little acquaintance but you realize you were much more than that

You were his friend, a true and honest to god friend

Safe to say after that König is basically hovering at your side kinda like how Ghost does on missions

Just a silent looming form as you giggle and watch TikTok’s, everyone else in the room wondering if you even notice him behind you

You do, and you even show him the ones you have on your saved

Ghost is concerned from how you went from being afraid to now having him trail you like a puppy

Even after you explain what happened he’s still giving König the side eye

Due to his social anxiety you help König out while around base, talking for him when the words choke up in his mouth and generally being there to give him the boost of confidence he needs when talking to others

Having social anxiety doesn’t mean the same thing as being shy so you go about helping make sure he isn’t overwhelmed by people and social situations

When he does feel like there’s too many people for him to handle you take him out the room and to a quiet place for him to breath

He’s a big gentle giant (with you at least)

Definitely thinks it’s funny when he picks you up by the back of your vest like a kitten, even more so when you kick and complain

Everyone does a double take when they see you literally climb him to reach the top shelf for something

Scary giant and small menace

When you find out he can’t be a sniper due to his height you take him out the the gun range and have him snipe for you

At some point he probably teaches you a few German phrases for fun, he finds it cute when you try out a word (pronounce it horribly) but look to his for approval

You now do the “no! Little German boy don’t-“ meme and he’s really confused cause he’s Austrian and not German

You steal one of his shirts for fun (he actually left it out for you to steal since he saw you eyeing it) and it completely drowns you

Like it’s going to your knees or passing it

Gaz and him actually get along pretty well after you introduce them to one another

One time Price, Soap and Ghost walked in on you and Gaz forming a circle around him and walked out

You fucking cackle when he angrily yells in German,

A good example of this so when he stubs his toe and scared the crap out of Price when it sounds like you and soap successfully summoned a demon after pulling out the Barbie ouija board he banned for a reason

He finds it really heartwarming you’ve kept all the letter he sent to you like he did with yours

Legit thinks your code name sums you up pretty well

Sometimes you stick those little stickers that have motivational messages onto him

He always smiles when he finds them

Ghost eventually comes around and the two train together

People make bets one which giant is gonna win, and you get a share of these bets cause everyone goes to you to ask and you say you’ll give it to them for a fee

His animal cross island is so aesthetically pleasing, like your not sure how long he’s spent on this but he’s spent on it but it’s really cute

You call him “Koni” and he calls you “ankle biter” in German but tells you it means something else

Probably threatens people in German if they came weird comments and when you ask hims about it he’s all “oh it was nothing, they just asked for directions” and then gives them a death stare

He’s surprisingly confident while on the field which is a complete contrast to his rather quiet and anxious manner outside of it

You make him watch anime with you, for the love of god don’t show him Nana cause he will sob so hard

Just stick to slice of life or fluffy range stuff unless you want him hugging you like a stuffed animal and crying into your shoulder for an hour

If he’s around when you have a nightmare he ends up kinda holding you and mumbling phrases in a mix of English and German

he eventually gets really bummed out and anxious that he and Kortac has to leave soon

He finds himself becoming more spacey as you ramble on about the day

You notice of course, knowing the reason why so you don’t bring it up in case of upsetting him

As time ticks by you spend days making memories with him and the team, he finds himself becoming closer with 141 than with the people he’s actually teammates with

On that last night before he leaves you spend it with him, Soap, Gaz, Ghost and Price bundled up in your room watching movies

He doesn’t fall asleep that night, you and Gaz are the only ones who do in the end

When he leaves that next morning you hug him goodbye and give him your phone number and address

“Now you can text me whenever and if you have time off you can drop by. I’ll still send letters for old times sake though”

He smiles beneath his hood, you can see from how his eyes crinkle ever so slightly

#platonic #modern warfare x reader #sharky y/n #konig x reader

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Note

the post about konig and tatoos got me thinking how would he react with his girl doing a full body waxing, since someone else needs to literally see all her body and """touch""" her to do that, and imagine if it's a man 😭

Just imagine König marching to the beauty salon (people are screaming) then simply barging in to the room where this guy trying to give you a wax oh my God 🥲

Unfortunately, that's not going to happen. König won't let you do whatever you want – not without checking the details first. Also: no male gynecologists. Like, none, EVER. (Lol what's wrong with this guy)

But....

now I'm thinking about König's reaction when you come home after a full body wax 👀 done by some innocent woman of course, someone who's a professional & would never have nasty thoughts and intentions towards you 💕

CW: Cunnilingus, edging, overall shameless behavior 18+

König is so, so curious. Of course he wants to inspect you!

He likes his women soft, but let's be honest: this man is happy with whatever you give him. He adores you and worships your body, waxed or not. He would never force you into such a thing (actually, he'd be happiest if you never left home...)

But now that you're suddenly even softer than usual – wait, you're silky smooth all over?? König just can't stop running his hands over your thighs, he can't stop staring at what's between your legs. Actually, he's admiring the view like it's the first time he's laid eyes on a woman.

And yep. He simply has to have a taste.

Long, savoured licks and starved moans ensue as he goes down to enjoy your silk. Better grab something sturdy to hold on to (yeah, why not him?) because this dude is not leaving his favorite place in a while. He will edge and edge and edge you until you cry and beg, because he loves seeing you like this: spread wide open, sweet and bare and so wet that the audible evidence of his treatment is downright sloppy.

Usually, he's a bit more rough, the constant high libido of this man making the sex a sweaty, needy business. But now... Now, he takes his sweet time. He's a different man, sampling you like you're the best cuisine he's ever tried.

You can trash on the bed, you can try to tug at his hair when he drives you to the edge but not over it. You can cry and whine and sob but he's not going to budge. Just when you open your mouth and say you're about to lose your mind, König gives you a sudden, straightforward compliment.

"I like this," he sighs on your pussy with his hand down his pants. And you shouldn't be surprised that he's stroking himself while lapping you. Guy hasn't even bothered to take his cock out – apparently, he's perfectly happy with the prospect of cumming inside his camos like the filthy dog that he is.

"So soft," he gives you another starved lick, "and wet…"

"König... Mh, I can't take it anymore," you moan and gasp on the sheets, your voice so needy and pathetic it could easily be mistaken for a sob.

"No? But I can," he rasps and continues the torment.

You're starting to think that the waxing was a terrible mistake. He's being mean, and for what? Just because you happen to look nice and feel soft.

Actually, König is the meanest man you know, always teasing and torturing you, always making your life hard and your pussy wet. The worst thing is that you can feel the stupid grin spreading on his lips.

"Look at you, little one... Am I being too mean?" He asks as if he can read minds as well. You don't know if the compassion in his voice is real or feigned, but he won't let you linger on that thought for too long. No: your attention falls back to the hot, determined mouth making love to you. His lips seal around your clit, and give you another soft, ample suck.

"Fu–ck," you whisper helplessly in the air.

A mistake... A big mistake.

König stops, now genuinely shocked.

"Such filth from my angel's mouth... Where have you learned words like that?"

"König, don't be ridicu—"

"I can't let you cum yet."

His declaration makes you want to scream. But you know better than that... There's nothing you can do but try to suppress the tears as he goes down on you once more, ensuring you get some more but never enough. You promise him you will never swear again, you babble and plead, but it's no use. König makes you promise it twice. Thrice.

By the time he finally does end your torture, your whole body is a quivering, overstimulated mess. You cum, wave after wave, riding on his tongue like there's nothing else in this world. You're pretty sure some of your brain cells have died during his treatment.

Yes, the waxing was either a terrible mistake or the most brilliant idea you've ever had... You can't really decide in your state of brainless euphoria. What you do know, however, is that König is a huge hypocrite: he always has to ruin the things he views as sweet and innocent and pretty. You're a mess, but not mess enough for him.

He cums on your poor, bare pussy with a few anxious faps – you can do nothing but lie there like a helpless maiden as the hot load lands on your soft skin and trickles over your sensitive clit.

It's downright laughable how he gathers you in his arms after such a shameless, greedy session. He even has the audacity to coo loving nonsense in your ear. He does all kinds of sweet things except clean you up.

When you whine about it, he says he will give his "sweet angel" a wash soon – no doubt wanting to carry you to the bathroom, bridal style, like the perfect gentleman.

#answered #yandere könig #könig smut #könig x you #fluffy nasty könig drabbles

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lalasworld2x · 4 months ago

Text

Patrick Bateman Headcanons

• Just right off the bat, he’ll never love anyone as much as he loves himself. We all know that.

• But he definitely likes you, calling you tolerable.

• He doesn’t really show how much he cares about you until a bit later into the relationship, probably still working through the shock of wanting another person in his life.

• Before meeting him, you had heard a lot about his personality and icks from his coworkers, so you knew to expect his brattiness. You weaselled your way around it easily, dodging A LOT of arguments.

• Of course there’s still going to be a lot of bickering lol

• He often buys you flowers and chocolates, telling you he’s just keeping up a good image as your boyfriend. But in reality, he does enjoy seeing you smile over his gifts.

• He asks you to complete his morning routine with him. There may not be much talking, but he certainly likes your company.

• If you don’t have a job or you lose your job, he’ll immediately get you a job to work with him, or at least in the same building.

• Over time, he starts to really love you (but again, narcissistic so yk). He would love to see you walking down the hall or coming into his office.

• He LOVES the office siren look, and would ask you to dress that fashion all the time. If that’s not really your style outside of work, he doesn’t really care you dress. He finds other peoples’ sense of fashion intriguing.

• Unfortunately OR fortunately, I don’t think he would want kids, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to have kids with him anyways. But if you already have your own children when your relationship starts with him, he doesn’t mind. He’ll try his best to have a decent relationship with them.

• Valentines days are the best for both of you to really romance each other. Fanciest restaurants, dozens of presents, hugs and kisses, alcohol, lots of love! Best part, subtly rubbing your relationship in the faces of everyone that you hate <3

• He would enjoy sitting by a fire place with you, chilling out, reading, watching TV, whatever

• He sends you nice letters with the cute wax sealing just cause it looks sophisticated and sweet lol

• Expect plenty of dancing to slow music, him always taking lead ofc

~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t have many ideas for this one, hope it doesn’t suck 🤧

Masterlist

#patrick bateman #horror #x reader #imagine #slashers #horror movies #american psycho

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wizblr-blue-moon-ball · 7 months ago

Text

You find a letter addressed to you...

The envelope is a pale, moonstone white with gold filligree. It is sealed with a wax seal, the engravings from the stamp showing an intricate magical spell used to ensure the letter was delivered to you.

If you are with a friend who also recieves a letter, you notice that each seal was customized to specifically reach you and you alone.

The paper inside a fine parchment with an invitation written in deep blue ink....

☆

Hello Magical Friend~☆

You are cordially invited to the Blue Moon Ball, the first of its kind hosted on Wizard Island (Island).

It will be a week-long celebration of the magical and arcane with old and new friends; if you happen to receive this letter, you are one of many esteemed guests we would like to host at our establishment.

Should you decide to attend, please sign the RSVP card added within this envelope and send it back using your preferred method of mailing.

The ball will be held in the fourth week of May, the Nineteenth through the Twenty-Fifth (May 19-25). We hope to see you there!

Signed...

☆

Welcome everyone to the official announcement post of the Blue Moon Ball! Wizardblr's (maybe?) first community-wide event. Hosted by yours truly @the-necrobotanist! I'm happy to see you here!

The event will take place over the course of seven days, where participants will make posts relating to a series of themes throughout the entire week.

The event will take place on the week of the 19-25, mark your calendars!

◇

RULES

Please be polite and kind to other participants

No AI generation in any and all submissions

Do not reveal any personal info

No NSFW

(This is everything for now. Please do not make me extend this rule list)

♡

There are four categories for people to partake in for the prompts: Art, Writing, Roleplay, and Photography. I'll explain a bit more in detail about them below.. .

ART [#Blue Moon Ball Art]

Draw your character according to the prompts, and perhaps other people's characters!

Use of picrews/heroforge is allowed as long as you credit where you made the image from

Use of AI to make art is strictly prohibited and will not be included in the event.

No NSFW

WRITING [#Blue Moon Ball Writing]

Write a story, drabble, or fic of your character!

There is no base word count or word limit, do whatever you wish!

Poems and the like are totally welcome and allowed!

No AI generated writing is allowed.

No NSFW

ROLEPLAY [#Blue Moon Ball Roleplay]

Roleplay at the event! I'll make a few starters for people to post and add to :)

Keep everything SFW, and if a RP situation makes you uncomfortable please remember that it is okay to back out

No NSFW

PHOTOGRAPHY [#Blue Moon Ball Photogtaphy]

Take a photo! Whether it be an outfit, food, or a pet!

No revealing personal information. This includes your face, address, full name, etc. Please practice internet safety.

No NSFW

The official prompt list will not be revealed until 3 days before the event! There will however be a prologue prompt!

♤

Prologue Prompt

Your prompt for before the event is.....

DRESS YOUR BEST~☆

Gather your fabric and get your sewing kits ready, your first prompt is to design and create your character’s outfit for the ball!

Create an outfit and post it to tumblr, whether through art, writing, or whatever you wish! Make sure to use the tag #BMB Outfit so people can see your work, and feel free to mention me so I can reblog!

All outfits submitted (unless noted otherwise in the post) will be added to a poll for a "Best Dressed" poll that will he hosted after the main event is over, consider it an afterparty of sorts.

All rules above apply to this post, I hope you all enjoy!!

◇

ALSO JOIN THE DISCORD!!!

♧

That's everything for now! I'm so excited to be hosting this, and I'm so, so happy and grateful for the huge amount of people interested. I cannot wait to see what you make!!

Enjoy the ball, Magical Friends~☆ !!

Pinglist Set A

@scuttling-comfuddlement @the-gnomest-bastard @kobold-sanctuary-buss-island @satyrs-apothecary @irving-the-pirate-wizard @morbingtime @justagingerwithredhair @chaos-familiar @these-detestable-hands @regina-the-sorceress @combustion-witch @yourlocalbreadenthusiast @selldemapplez @agentldiddy @fractalkitty @wizard-island-trading-co @good-wizard @the-illegal-wizard-council @ash-the-tiefling @mysticminion @blobbiedaykeeppcaway @life-is-okay-rn2 @skyethebisexualwolfwizard @thequeerwizardcouncil @dread-the-eldritch-wizard @profeshinul-wizurd @a-squirrel-wizard @the-mighty-dalob @amateur-wizard @chaos-wizard-nyehehe @bertskullhaver @transgender-wizard @flowers-the-sun-witch @the-silliest-sorcerer @wizard-ghost @a-goose-in-a-trenchcoat @flirtyambiguouswizard @paltering-peculiarity @parkyrtheelvishbard @ceeceelemons

#The Blue Moon Ball #The Blue Moon Ball Updates~☆#wizard posting #wizardposting #wizardblr #IT'S HERE!!!!#Blue Moon Ball Art #Blue Moon Ball Writing #Blue Moon Ball Photography #Blue Moon Ball Roleplay #BMB Outfit

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idyllcy · 3 months ago

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from one admirer to another : halloween?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as model number two // leon as Leon

Dearest Leon,

Your last letter made me hurl (not in a bad way I just got so embarrassed that smoke started coming out of my head anime style or whatever) I... hate that you can tell I'm a romanticist or whatever the word is because I am and I hate that you're so genuine in your letters that it hurts me to read it because what in gods name did I do in my past life for my ass to end up receiving love letters like this? OKRA'S WRITING IS RUBBING OFF ON YOU ISN'T IT. (I'm coping)

Sorry if I come off as harsher than I mean to. I'm not good with dealing with affection. I'm only good at giving affection. I need a moment to just. Give me a second to collect myself.

Okay. I think I'm okay now.

I... don't quite think the word like is the right word to describe my feelings for you. It's a little murky, and while I think I wouldn't mind dating you at all, I also think it would be unfair to you to return your feelings so half-heartedly. So, for the time being... it's honestly up to you whether or not you want to continue pursing me.

I've stuck by Ada most my life since she was always the safe option to me, and I was right when she ended up standing on stage. From the beginning to the end, I think I had become her shadow at some point. She's moving away now, so I don't see much of a point in being a model anymore. Raccoon is still relatively affordable to live in, so I could always turn that writing of mine into a full-time job. Also, I could become a full-fledged model as well. I don't enjoy it quite much, though. I hate the idea of working something that I'm not passionate about.

Oh, look! I'm being vulnerable. Nothing much is happening around me other than Luis' halloween party I'm attending today. See you there?

From the messenger, model number two

p.s. and of course. Sunshine was the cutest thing. I'm always open to visit again

Ada helps you dress up for the masquerade ball, telling you to breathe in as she pulls on the corset, your back straightening nearly immediately. You stare at the wax-sealed envelope that suits the theme, and a near identical one you made to match, and you wonder if you'll recognize Leon in the crowd of people that Luis knows. Suspicious background, a new slate in his hand, and the people of his past mingle into bits and pieces of his life — but only ever as ghosts in his masquerade ball.

The white is a visible contrast to the gold that you have been instructed to wear. Your jewelry is replaced with gold that looks as though it's seeped from the sun itself, and you are cloaked with black, the role of messenger placed in your hand this year, letters upon letters told to be given to people with certain masks.

You weave through the crowd with grace, cloak fluttering behind you as you pass letters to people with a gentle bow, lips curled upwards as you disappear back into the crowd when your time ends. You fell like a ghost. While the people in white look sickly and pale, you resemble the messenger of death, a void of nothing visible on your face. Only when you reach the final man, do you recognize the eyes.

"The messenger retires." You nod at Luis, and he takes the letter from you.

"Pray tell, princesa. The final letter?"

"To a secret." You hold the letter to your lips, closed-eye smile offered to him as you slip past him to the private chambers. It's a dramatization, obviously. You slip into the supply closet, ditching the cloak and hanging it up where Luis instructed you to, and you blend back into the crowd.

You lose Ada, but before someone else can get to you, you're grabbed by the waist, out of the way of a waiter.

"Darling." Leon smiles down at you, removing his hands from you once you're out of the way.

"Just the person." You hand him the letter, bowing as you get ready to leave.

"Please don't." He whispers, fingers clasping around your wrist as he does, and you breathe. You stare up at his hair, and then at his matching corset, and you seem to understand why Luis had been so adamant on having you wear a corset this year around despite your role as messenger in the first half. It had been custom-made, so you wonder if Leon had gone out of the way to receive your measurements from one of the workers.

"How did you know?" You mumble, taking a step closer to him anyway.

"I'll tell you on the balcony." He whispers, tugging you along through the crowd.

You wonder if you deserve such brazen affection from someone you do not even wholeheartedly love back.

Yet, the glimmer in his eyes under the gold of the chandeliers while looking at you assures you that it is fine.

prev letter : masterlist : next letter

#☾.oata #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #clawing my heart out i hate writing fluff (i'm fine dw)

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heyiwrotesomethings · 1 year ago

Note

[ene(?)mies to loverS] {FEM demon slayer& assassin reader}

R used to me an assassin that only killed the guilty and protected the inoccent but they quit after becoming a demon slayer.

shinobu is kidnapped by a crazy dude in the middle of the night but the triplets and AOI find out in the morning from a note with the ransom money. They ask reader for help and track her down and turns out the dude that kidnapped her is in a team who kills demon slayers? So R kills the whole group and gets shin out of there. some fluffy stuff pls

idk it just came up sorRy if it's too specific.

thanks byee

Abducted

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: Tried putting these two together because they had the same major plot point. And I kind of hinted to past enemies, but they are in the lovers stage for the majority of the fic. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! Word Count: 3,335

(Y/n) woke up in bed alone, which was not at all unusual with how busy Shinobu was. What was unusual, was the commotion that had woken her up. In a flurry of footsteps and distressed noise, the butterfly girls came bursting through the door, Kanao frantically waving a piece of paper in (Y/n)’s face.

“Hm? What? What’s going on?” (Y/n) was having a hard time in her groggy state keeping up with everyone speaking over each other with such concerning urgency.

Aoi took the paper from Kanao’s hand and shushed everyone before reading the letter verbatim, voice shaking.

“We have captured the Hashira Kochou Shinobu. She put up quite a fight, to prove we have her, find enclosed a lock of her hair. If you wish to ever see her alive again, you will bring five-hundred-thousand yen and twenty children with Marechi blood to the summit of Natagumo Mountain before sunset tonight, or else!” Aoi flung the paper into (Y/n)’s lap, “Shinobu-sama has been abducted!”

“What?” (Y/n) picked up the letter and re-read it to herself, “This can’t be happening…” she adjusted her hold on the paper and felt something silky on the other side. She flipped the paper around and inhaled sharply when she saw the lock of purple and black hair tapped to the back. She crumpled the paper and bolted to her feet. In a few quick strides, she tore open the closet, throwing a high mobility outfit and an array of sharp and pointy weapons of varying sizes onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” Aoi asked, her and Kanao pulling the younger girls out of the way as (Y/n) continued to toss weapons out of the closet.

“I’m going to get Shinobu back.“ She answered monotonously, a chill ran through the other girls. It was a tone they hadn’t heard (Y/n) use in a very long time.

“How are you going to do that? You aren’t thinking about giving in to their demands, are you?” Aoi asked fretfully.

“Of course not. I won’t need to. Did you see that stupid little wax seal they used on the envelope? I’ve seen it before in my previous line of work. They are humans that work for demons. They provide the quality fodder, and in return they get protection, money, power… whatever they can get their hands on. But there are rare occasions like this where they think they can get more out of us than they could out of the demons they serve. I’ve dealt with people from their group before.”

“In your… old profession?”

“Yeah. Lots of people have lost their loved ones to that group over the years and came to me for justice. Safe to say, they don’t know who they’re messing with or they wouldn’t have even dared to send this letter.” (Y/n) turned to face the girls, eyes full of fire.

She dialed it back a bit when she saw them flinch backward and knelt before them all.

“I’m going to get her back, I promise.“

“I’ll go too.” Kanao spoke up.

“No Kanao, you’ll stay here with everyone else. This isn’t demon slaying. I don’t want to put you in a position where you may have to kill a human, no matter how much they might deserve it. Trust that I will do whatever it takes to bring Shinobu hole safe and sound. Stay here and take care of everyone while I’m gone. Can you do that for me?”

Kanao but the inside of her cheek, but nodded solemnly. (Y/n) squeezed her shoulder then got up and moved over to the bed to equip all of her weapons that she thought wouldn’t see they light of day again. Hopefully Shinobu wouldn’t be too cross with her for not throwing them out when she asked her to.

When the last knife was strapped down, she patted the head of each girl as she exited the room and then the mansion, disappearing quickly over the fence. She only had about ten hours before sunset, so she would need to get to Natagumo quickly to make it in time.

“Hang on, Shinobu. I’m on my way.”

***

Shinobu came to with a throbbing headache. She groaned and tried to cup her head with her hands, keyword tried. Her hands were tightly bound behind her back and upon further inspection, she found her legs to be tightly bound as well.

For as beaten and bruised as she was, nothing hurt her more than having fallen into this damn trap. It had started out so harmlessly. A small child had come running to her for help, his mother supposedly sick. The young boy looked dirty and malnourished. Of course Shinobu didn’t give it a second thought before she let the boy lead her up the mountain. She was so used to fighting demons, that she had forgotten there were humans out there who were just as vile.

She had sensed something off when she followed the boy inside the dingy house. She felt a malicious presence behind her and swiftly pivoted on her feet, dodging the burly arms that had reached out to grab her. With a few precision strikes, he fell to the ground, only for six more to take his place. She got a few good punches in, as well as a few slices from the knives in her shoes, but with an ambush of this scale, with so little space to maneuver or time to think, she was overpowered and knocked unconscious.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up.”

Shinobu winced as her head was pulled up by her hair, but she refused to make any noise that would give her captors any satisfaction.

“You sure cut me up pretty bad, little brat.” The man pulled her head back further so she could see the bloody bandage wrapped around his head. The spot where his left eye would be was particularly saturated with blood. “It hurts like hell.”

“That’s what you get when you sneak up on people. You’re fortunate that’s all you endured.” Shinobu smiled sharply, her teeth pressed together tightly when the man sharply tugged her hair again.

“We sent a message off with that bird that was following you around. If anybody cares about you, they’ll be here with our demands by sundown. If they don’t, I’ll carve you up the same way you carved up me and my buddies before we serve you up to the boss on a silver platter.” He grinned wickedly and made a show of looking up at the sky through the trees, before looking back down at Shinobu smugly.

“Not much time left…”

He promptly let go of Shinobu’s hair and her head fell back to the ground. The man laughed uproariously and his buddies joined in, save for the young boy who had lured Shinobu frantically filling his face. The man kicked Shinobu’s bound legs out of his way before rejoining them at the fire for another bowl of stew.

Shinobu kept her breathing even. Panicking in this situation would do her no good. Besides, those fools all but signed their own death warrants by sending En back to the mansion with whatever poorly written scrap of paper they composed. She hadn’t a doubt in her mind that (Y/n) was well on her way.

Still, she’d be damned if she didn’t at least try to get herself out of this mess before then. She was a Hashira, she killed demons, she wasn’t going to let a group of meat-headed plain, human men continue to get the best of her. Shinobu carefully rubbed her feet together so as not to draw attention to herself and nearly scoffed.

For being so upset with her about her sharp retaliations, they sure didn’t think it necessary to take away her shoes. Idiots. Ever so quietly, she bent her knees as far as she could and carefully removed a shoe. It took a little time to maneuver it into a workable position, but she got the blade end wedged beneath the rope on her hands and began to saw at it, and no one was none the wiser, or so she thought.

A heavy foot came down on her hands and she couldn’t stop the yelp of pain that left her lips, drawing the attention of the men at the campfire.

“You idiots,” the new arrival sighed, a man with much nicer clothes than the rest, “while you were all eating and drinking like pigs, you almost let our guest escape. Need I remind you we are dealing with a Hashira here? What do you think would have happened if we let her escape, hm?”

“The- the boss would totally kill us. Thanks for catching on to that, Hyousuke.” One man whimpered.

“The boss?” Hyousuke tilted his head to the side as he took Shinobu’s shoes and tossed them into the bushes, “You think I’d ever tell the boss if we lost a quality catch like this? No… no, no, no,” his eyes steeled and his voice took on a more dangerous tone, “I would kill you all myself. He doesn’t have time to deal with you useless fools. He needs to become a Kizuki to continue keeping us safe and he’s not going to get there if you can’t take the time to do your damn job!”

“My, to speak of a demon so passionately, is it love?” Shinobu smiled sweetly, then added, “Gross.”

Hyousuke sneered down at her and put more of his weight on her wrists before easing up and turning his attention back to the campfire.

“Where’s the damn rope? I’ll need to re-tie her hands.”

“Uh, Masaru had it last.”

“Where is he?”

“He needed to relieve himself. Went out to the woods like… huh, maybe twenty minutes ago?”

Hyousuke stiffened, then snarled, “Well go find him, now!”

The men scampered into the forest, the young boy reluctantly went to follow, but Hyousuke called him back.

“Goro, you stay. I have a special job for you.” He presented the young boy with a knife and lead him to Shinobu, “This is a big job, boy. You do this well, and your stranding in the group will skyrocket, you understand. Meals everyday, new clothes, an actual bed, all will be yours. All you gotta do is watch this woman and if she tries to escape, you slash her tendons. If that doesn’t work, kill her. Got it?”

Goro shook under Hyousuke’s intense glare, but managed a nod.

“Good. This shouldn’t take long.” Hyousuke glared down at Shinobu, “Behave yourself if you want to live through this.”

Shinobu stayed silent, watching him disappear into the woods before returning her attention to Goro who looked at her with fearful eyes, knife tightly grasped within his hands. It was time Shinobu implement her best defense in this precarious moment, so she began to talk to the boy. Ever so slowly, his grip eased as Shinobu took an interest in his upbringing. Having never known his mother, nor really any experience talking to women, the kind way Shinobu spoke with him felt completely foreign.

A pained shout echoed through the forest, putting them both on edge again. The forest went quiet again, but only for a few moments before to more cries were heard.

“Goro-kun, stay calm.” Shinobu tried to ease the boy’s nerves, but he still looked as scare and desperate as a cornered animal. “If you cut the rope—”

Goro shakily held the knife to Shinobu’s throat, “Stop talking!” He commanded through sharp breaths just as another shout was heard in the distance, though much closer than the previous ones.

Shinobu took the risk to keep talking, “There could be a demon out there. I don’t want you to get hurt, Goro-kun. Please free me and give me my sword so I can protect you.”

Goro looked conflicted, switching his attention between Shinobu and the woods anxiously. He heard another shout and shut his eyes tightly, knife still uncomfortably close to Shinobu’s neck— until a rugged rock came sailing in and knocked the weapon out of his hand and into the bushes.

They both looked over in the direction the rock had come from to see a bloody figure emerge from the woods near the campfire, breathing heavily.

“A demon!” Goro shrieked, skittering back on his behind to put Shinobu between himself and ‘the demon’, but Shinobu was not all that concerned.

“None of that is your blood is it, (Y/n)?” She asked calmly as if she already new the answer.

“Of course not,” (Y/n) huffed, “I may have been persuaded into an early retirement, but I’m still as sharp as ever.” She smirked with pride, before seeing Shinobu’s frown and tacked on an apology at the end.

Once upon a time, (Y/n) and Shinobu hadn’t gotten along all that well and a lot of that stemmed from (Y/n)’s line of work as an assassin for hire. Well, it stemmed from (Y/n) having lied about being an assassin when they had first met. Shinobu found out after they had been dating for awhile and it was not pretty. They had broken up, but after a few months of being miserable without each other, (Y/n) decided to retire and ask Shinobu to take her back with the promise of no more secrets and things had been getting better since.

“Mhmm,” Shinobu hummed as (Y/n) came over to untie her, Goro too scared stiff to move, “I recall telling you to get rid off all those weapons.”

“I did. Well, I got rid of most of them. But, see how handy it is to keep a couple of classics around?”

“I suppose...” Shinobu released a relieved sigh when the last of the rope was cut and then sat up, finding herself engulfed in a tight hug as soon as she did so.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” (Y/n)’s voice was muffled from having her face pressed into Shinobu, but she was heard just fine.

“Sorry to worry you.” Shinobu brought her arms around (Y/n)’s neck to return the hug, despite the blood.

It was really nice for a few moments until they heard a twig snap and looked up to see Goro sticking his hands into the bushes, looking for the knife Hyousuke left with him.

“Hey, kid, just stay put, okay?” (Y/n) put her hand out in warning.

“We aren’t going to hurt you, Goro-kun. Come down the mountain with us, and we will keep you safe.” Shinobu promised.

“I can’t let you go! If you go, Hyousuke-san will kill me!”

“No he won’t. Just look at me,” (Y/n) gestured to herself, “If I didn’t kill him on my way here, then I’ll kill him when he shows up. And if you’re worried about any demons either, Shinobu had it covered, right?”

“Definitely,” Shinobu answered a bit distractedly, her sword back home in her hands, “Help me find my shoes?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll- I’ll—“

(Y/n) gently ruffled Goro’s hair, stunning him.

“You must be tired. What do you say, wanna get off of this dumb old mountain?” She softly asked.

“Stop! You’re Just trying to trick me like I tricked you!” He yelled, pointing a finger at Shinobu.

Shinobu smiled sympathetically and crouched down before the boy, “That was a pretty mean trick, wasn’t it? You feel bad about it, don’t you?”

Goro didn’t say anything, but fresh tears sprung from his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. It’s hard to be hungry and on your own. I promise if you come with us, you’ll never have to do anything like this again. We will keep you safe.” She held out her pinky and after a short explanation of what a pinky promise was, Goro cautiously wrapped his own pinky around Shinobu’s.

“Well, isn’t that sweet.”

Shinobu and (Y/n) pivoted, shielding Goro from the new arrival. Hyousuke had returned with a few of his men, armed and ready for a fight.

“Damn, I really thought I had taken care of all of you.” (Y/n) groaned in annoyance. “Must’ve been shaking in the bushes as I walked by. Did you think of you regrouped, you’d be able to take me?”

“Hy- Hyousuke! I know this woman, she’s a demon with human blood, an assassin! She’s stolen lives from out faction before.”

“Demon with human blood seems a bit over dramatic,” she scoffed, “But also so, so hypocritical when you consider all you have done to give yourselves a cozy life.”

“Goro, get over here.” Hyousuke ordered through gritted teeth.

“He’s not going anywhere with you.” Shinobu denied, “It’s in your best interest if you let us pass.”

“I cannot return to him empty handed.” Hyousuke pulled a gun from his clothes, “I’ll just have to kill all three—“

In the blink of an eye, (Y/n) and Shinobu were on him. Shinobu’s sword pierced his hand and he dropped the gun in pain. (Y/n) instinctively went in for the kill. Hyousuke staggered before falling into the dirt, whatever was left of the small group scattered and fled into the woods. (Y/n) made a move to go after them, but Shinobu held her wrist.

“I think that they got the message.” She said.

“But they’re going to go back to whatever demon their friendly with and start up all over again with someone less fortunate.”

“En is following them. She’ll report the location back to Oyakata-sama and he will decide how to proceed from there. You already have more blood on your hands than I would like. Besides,” she whispered, flicking her eyes over to Goro, “You’re scaring him.”

“Alright, fine. I guess as long as it gets taken care of eventually, I don’t really care.” (Y/n) went to run her neck, but caught sight of the blood and just clasped her hands behind her back instead. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Goro-kun.”

“I’ve seen worse.” He mumbled quietly, shrugging his shoulders. Shinobu and (Y/n)’s hearts went out to him.

“We’re gonna work like hell so you don’t have to see anything like that ever again.” (Y/n) promised.

“You’ll be safe with us.” Shinobu reached out her hand as an invitation, “Come on, let’s go home.”

Goro hesitated, but he did take her hand.

“Hold my hand too?” (Y/n) batted her eyelashes and held out her bloody hand.

Shinobu’s eyes flickered to (Y/n)’s hand, then back up to her face, “Maybe another time, dear.” The hug they shared earlier was all the blood she wanted to deal with at the moment.

“Booooo.”

“You know what you can do though? Help me find my shoes. It’s a long way down the mountain, and I’d rather not be without them.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. I heard you the first time you asked.”

***

“I really needed that!” (Y/n) flopped onto the bed, her damp head landing in Shinobu’s lap, squeaky clean, “I almost forgot how itchy dried blood is.”

“Such pleasant words you are saying.” Shinobu replied with sarcasm. She put a bookmark between the pages of her book to mark where she had left off and put it aside to give her full attention, absently running her fingers across (Y/n)’s cheeks.

“I know. So is Goro-kun all settled in?”

“As much as he can be, but he’s in good hands. Naho, Sumi and Kiyo are excited to have someone younger than them around and surprisingly he seemed to latch onto Gotou-san quickly. I’m sure everything will get better in due time.”

“That’s good.” (Y/n) yawned and put her hands over Shinobu’s to keep them on her face. “And how are you feeling?”

“It was an unfortunate situation to find myself in, but I’m fine, really. I knew you would come.”

(Y/n) pulled one of Shinobu’s hands to her lips so she could plant a kiss against her palm. “If you ever feel not fine about it, I’ll be here for you then too.”

“I know,” Shinobu smiled warmly and hunched inward to return the kiss, “Thank you.”

#demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #requests #anonymous

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sunday-spells · 3 days ago

Text

self love spell jar

shake to activate!

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

What goes in:

Salt (i used pink salt 🩷)

rose petals ~ bringing love + strengthening relationship w/ self

baby's breath ~ purification of negative energy

orange peel ~ attracting love + happiness

lavender ~ promotes love, tranquility, + happiness

thyme ~ attracts loyalty + love

cinnamon ~ spell success + power

paper + pen (pink or red ink if you have it)

pink, red, or white ribbon/string

pink, red, or white candle

(optional) include cloves to banish internalized feelings of negativity/self hate/putting yourself down

(optional) adding seashells to incorporate the element water, as well as correspondence to Aphrodite if you worship her or want to call on her for your jar

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

Begin by cleansing your tools + space! Use an incense you love, a bell, clapping, or whatever way you like to cleanse. Don't forget the inside of your jar!

I chose a bigger jar for this spell so that i could hold it in both hands when i use it. Using your paper and pen, write out an affirmation that you feel resonates. I really like:

" I love my body, i love my mind, i love every piece of myself "

once you've written out your affirmation, roll the paper toward you to bring in that energy of self-love. Then, tie a piece of ribbon or string around it in whatever way feels ~aesthetic~ to you. personally, i went with a little bow 🎀

If you enjoy enchanting your herbs, do that before putting them in the jar. One by one, add your herbs while keeping your mind focused on positive, loving thoughts. If you can, list things you love about yourself, and, if you cant, focus on things around you/in your life or nature that you love.

lastly, drop in your affirmation and close your jar. Use your candle to seal it, and, if you want to, place some flowers/petals in the wax as it cools.

shake the jar to activate the energy of your spell and intention whenever you need a little extra love. I like to keep mine by my mirror/vanity.

✨🤍~ Blessed Be ~🩷✨

#wicca #pagan #spells #witchcraft #spellwork #spell jar #witchy tips #magick #witchblr #pagan witch #spell work #baby witch #self love spell

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garagesesh · 1 year ago

Text

wintering

② looking at the feeling of an empty room

gif: alicenthightowerdaily ↸

pairing(s): aegon ii targaryen & (f!)reader

summary: silence is a weapon and patience is a virtue. or otherwise known as aegon doesn’t know how to express feelings.

warning(s): typical aegon being a lil shit, swearing, blood, sexual content

a/n: !!!this story will not be told in chronological order!!! If you're wondering why you're now in kings landing. this story is not written as a reader insert but as an OC on my ao3 if you find that format more enjoyable, it's linked below! please be kind, I'm trying to get back into writing after a long sabbatical. I would love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!

␛ to masterlist | ⎗ wintering masterlist

go to previous chapter ⎗ | go to next chapter ⎘

⌘ you can find this on my ao3 account!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　　

The stables smelled of horse shit. It was overwhelming, nauseating, but dragon shit smells worse.

Hanging the tack in the stall, giving your horse a brush and an apple you had taken from the kitchens, a reward for the hard, long ride along the bay on an unusual damp day in King’s Landing.

With your hair soaked and clothes drenched, you slung off your bow and quiver as you entered back into the Red Keep. Running down the stairs, looking for something to warm you up. The kitchens smelled divine, as you waltz through, serving yourself a bowl of whatever soup they had simmering in the hearth.

"My Lady." The cooks bowed their heads, annoyed by your presence in their bustling galley, preparing meals and displays for lunch and later, dinner for the many that lived within these walls.

After finishing the last drop of what you know now as potato and leek soup, you caught a whiff of yourself. Disgusted by your own stench, it was decidedly time for your bath.

"My Lady." Ser Marbrand, found you on the stairs to your chambers. Giving him the afternoon off from his duties, something you weren't supposed to be doing at all of course but you didn't need him following you while on horseback.

"Ser Marband." You smiled at the bald knight. "Are you well rested?"

"Yes, my Lady." He laughed, his armor clinked together as he descended the stairs just a few steps below you.

"I'm sorry I smell."

"That's quite alright, my Lady." You couldn't hold back your laughter, amused by the knight's honesty and lack of beating around the bush with pleasantries.

The invitation waited for you in your chambers. The sigil of the golden dragon, Aegon’s personal seal, was melted in a mere perfect circle, that you knew his unsteady, uncaring hands could not produce.

The Queen, no doubt.

Tearing the wax off the paper and unraveling the message, you had your answer.

The swirling cursive and vocabulary used was not of his own. His was chicken scratch, like that of an illiterate or drunk.

You couldn’t blame the Queen for trying.

To try and have you at least come to respect each other. Build an understanding between the two of you before you stood in front of the Seven and spoke promises of devotion, of love for the rest of your lives.

That fate was only a few moons away.

If a dinner schemed by the Queen could build some inkling of respect, then you couldn't argue with the prospect, though you had no hope that it would achieve anything.

In the past three years of your tenure at the Red Keep, Aegon and you had done nothing but argue, constantly at each other's throats. Words fired at each other that were meant to kill, only amplified by his seemingly constant inebriation.

Other times you teetered on thoughts of actually killing him and running away back home to the North, where you’d be welcomed a hero by your brothers.

You're sure he's thought of permanently washing his hands of you as well. The Targaryen’s were not above killing their partners, it was well known that Daemon had done exactly that to poor Rhea Royce.

You're reminded of the single time he had brought you on Sunfyre. Another one of Alicent's schemes to get you to bond.

It was no secret within the walls of the Red Keep that the green Queen was not above discipling her own children.

You had before heard Alicent scold Aegon behind closed doors. Whether it be for his excessive drinking, whoring, or about you yourself.

This invitation was most likely a result of a discussion between the mother and son.

Sighing, you folded the paper in half, dropping it on the desk. Frustrated and tired of it.

"Jeyne!" You removed your gloves and unlatched the silver dragon's head belt, draping it across the chair. The black and gold riding coat fell to the floor in a puddle of muddy fabric. It had rained during your ride, cementing mud on all parts of you.

Furs, browns, greys, blues were swapped for blacks, reds, greens, golds. No longer permitted to wear anything of Northern symbolism by the court.

The young maid came into the room, her head bowed, hands clasped in her apron. "Yes, my Lady?"

"Draw me a bath, please." Untwisting the braid in your hair, you smiled at the petite girl. “The lavender soaps tonight, Jeyne.”

You entered the milky steaming tub, dunking your head under the lavender swirls of water. Letting the warmth soothe you before dinner.

You wondered what Aegon had gotten up to this day, genuinely curious if the man had actually gotten up before high noon. Did he stumble in from Silk street early? Or did he ride Sunfyre? You doubt it, not seeing other dragons in the sky other than the behemoth that was Vhagar.

Falling asleep in the tub, you dreamt of home.

It wasn't until the sun had gone down when one of the maids had beckoned you for dinner. Being led to Aegon's solar, you waited alone for him. The minutes ticked by, a half a candle burned before the door leading from his chamber had ricocheted off the adjacent wall, announcing the Prince's arrival.

“Aegon.” You smiled, standing from your seat to curtsy. “Thank you for inviting me to dine with you.”

“I didn’t.” His chair screeched as it dragged across the stone floor. Unceremoniously, dropping himself into it. His head lolled back against the backing, his indigo eyes closing.

“I didn’t think so.” You mumbled, sinking back into the leather seat.

This was going to be a long evening.

“How was your day?” Trying to muster some sort of energy in the room. “I haven’t seen you the majority of this week.”

“I was busy.” Ever so curt.

“Okay.”

He reached for his cup, settling back into his chair and after a pregnant pause, his mouth moved again in a low grumble. “My day was fine.”

“Anything of interest?”

He cleared his throat, sitting upright in his seat. “Nothing really.”

You popped a grape in your mouth, tasting the sweet juice on your tongue. “I’m sure there’s something.”

He reached for the fruit as well. Examining the small plump fruit in between his index and his thumb. “I went to some mummers show."

“Oh?” Maybe you will get somewhere tonight. “Are you interested in music? Theater perhaps?"

“Music." He was surprising you, with his willingness to talk to you with something other than spite and bitterness. "Good music.”

“Like?”

Aegon, however was uncomfortable, he hadn’t been asked these sorts of things before, none by you either. He couldn’t categorize which music he liked versus what he didn’t and he certainly didn’t know how to convey that to you.

So instead he got angry.

“I don’t fucking know.” He sneered.

Here you went again. Repressing the urge to snap back, raise your voice an octave where he had was proving harder than you'd admit. “It was only a question.”

“Well stop with the idiotic interrogations then."

"It wasn't an idiotic question."

"Most of the shit that you spew out of that mouth is idiotic." He swallowed more wine, but he wasn't finished. "I dream of not marrying a barbaric idiot like you!"

"For Gods sake, Aegon!" Jaw clenching, your fingernails pierced the insides of your palm. "I get it! You don't want to marry me and I don't want to marry you either, but we are stuck, Aegon!"

You were absolutely exhausted of this argument.

An argument that was never ending. For the past three years you have done nothing but speak of anything else. You, not wanting to marry him and he not wanting to marry you. Back and forth, a wheel that kept spinning.

"We are two ends to a prophecy that your father believes us able to fulfill. Means to an end for him!"

“You mean a cunt to whelp my children.”

Your mouth opened with equally venomous words dripping on your tongue but instead took a deep breath, choosing to lay down your weapons instead.

You’ve had your fair share of words with each other over the years, but this by far hurt the most. He was cruel, you knew, but you didn’t know that he could be that cowardly.

He could have his whores. His bastards. His crates of wine and liquor. Hell, he could drink, whore, and feast himself to an early grave if he really wanted, you didn’t care.

But you stayed unmoving in your chair, unwavering in your eye contact with him. Challenging him with your silence, bringing a new battle strategy to your battlefield.

Aegon was a statue in his own chair, limbs laying inert. His hand frozen around the stem of his goblet, choking it as he waited for you to bite back with words.

You would not give him the satisfaction this time. This is what you refused the rest of your life to be.

A drunken coward that insulted to make you a fool.

Grabbing your cup, and pouring the rest of the arbor red down your throat in one swallow. Feeling the trickle of the alcohol down into your esophagus, patiently waiting for the buzz to come to your already clouded mind.

“Willa, another.” You held the cup out for the plump maid to fill, this time taking only a sip before turning back to your boar.

Aegon watched you, his frame still bent over in his seat in anticipation, observing your every move. On edge, waiting for you to reach out with your wolf claws and slash him to pieces.

But you continued to eat your meal, savoring the boar and the potatoes. The carrots were excellent, you had determined. Fish, shellfish, pheasant and grouse were laid on the table, making sure to sample each. You finished another cup, ordering a third. Dessert was your favorite, lemon cakes, pudding, fruit. You exclaimed her absolute appreciation for the meal.A fourth cup of wine was poured into the cup, but you made sure to savor this last one.

Admittedly you were slightly drunk.

Aegon had eaten nothing, drank nothing, said nothing.

Just stared through all the courses.

“Thank you for inviting me, Aegon. I hope you’ve enjoyed the same.” She yawned, stretching your sore arms above your head. “I’ve had a long day.”

You took your time rising out of the chair. Taking meticulous care to wipe your stained lips of the red wine. You undid the braid in your hair, smiled at the Prince one last time and then exited through the waiting open door.

With the slam of the door, he glanced away from the empty seat to the floor.

The servants began to clear the table of the now cold food. He reached for the bottle of wine before the servant who was barely of age could take it away. Glowering at the boy who dared looked him in the eyes.

“Get out.” He ordered the servants, their mere presence stoking the fire within him.

They muttered apologies, working rapidly at the mess. Trying to get out of his way. He rolled his eyes, they stung with annoyance, rage. Fires now ablaze in his violet eyes.

How dare you?

How dare you.

His chair wailed across the stone tiles and onto the ground terrifying the servants. Aegon swiped his arm, silverware, platters, fruit clattered to the floor in his anger, his hand cut on a knife. Fire spewed. “I said get out! All of you!”

His hand pounded against the table smearing it with thick crimson liquid that oozed out of his palm in slow heavy drops.

He grabbed the bottle of wine from the floor. Opening it and forwent the cup itself, drinking the entirety of the contents directly into his mouth. The wine, usually a sedative for him, did nothing. It only made him angrier, he was livid heaving over the table in rapid breaths.

“Fuck!”

He threw the empty bottle on the floor. The green glass splintering off into a million little pieces at his feet, glistening in the candlelight like bloody snowflakes. Like the leaves on the Weirwood trees.

The door into his private chambers slammed closed, the wrought iron door handle banging on the wood.

Anger, confusion, foolishness, desire wrapped up his entire being.

His hands tore off his doublet, half hard, and lungs still desperate for air. He felt like he was being choked, fingers clawing at his own neck. Blood, his blood, smearing upon his throat. Half naked and stumbling in the dark, his knee found the bed frame, pain shooting in all directions of his leg.

“Fuck!” Fuck you, you were slowly killing him inside and spending the last three years trying to ignore you, disgust you, rebuff you had felt like it had just come crashing down upon him in some sort of silent retribution for his attempts.

His world became dim and hazy, half-conscious from the alcohol and blood. Suddenly, figures stepped into the moonlight that poured onto his balcony. A white dress, a woman looking out into the bay.

“Prince Aegon?” Ser Arryk, with his sword drawn and panic in his eyes, came upon Aegon half-naked on his bed in a bloody pool. His unattended and forgotten hand was still spewing from the glass and staining his silk sheets with maroon.

“Are you alright?” His voice boomed with worry, “Prince Aegon!”

Aegon’s eyes met Ser Arryks, “Get a Maester, you fuck.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

␛ to masterlist | ⎗ wintering masterlist

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⌘ you can find this on my ao3 account!

✦ looking for more asoiaf stories? check out my begging for rain series! ✦

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #fanfic #wintering #this isnt the best im sorry lol #aegon ii targaryen

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pebbleswritessometimes · 2 years ago

Note

Hello!! ☺️

I saw your post for Larissa prompts. Well, we're getting near Valentines Day and I'd like to request a holiday fanfic. In a staff outing Larissa finds out that Reader never received a Valentine's card for whatever reason (maybe no one ever gave them one or for cultural reasons, in Brazil for example, only established couples exchange cards). So Valentine's Day arrives and Reader starts receiving many cards from students and from the staff (platonic love), she ends up finding out that Larissa gave the idea for everyone and wanted Reader to feel loved. Maybe she even ends up asking Reader for an actual date? (Super corny but it is what it is 🤣)

Valentine’s

Sorry this is so late, not proof read <3 words: 943

“You’ve never been given a Valentines card? You’re joking!” Larissa had responded in disbelief, alongside your coworkers. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their reactions,” Pffft, no! It just wasn’t something that we did, unfortunately. If you weren’t in a romantic relationship, then you didn’t get things like valentines cards, or those cute little bears.”

Someone could’ve assumed that you had just insulted each of their mothers individually, with the way they stared at you, mouth agape. “Close your mouths, we’ll all have to be back at the school soon. Finish your food,” you laughed, shaking your head, and each began to shovel their meals in, in an attempt to complete them before you had to drive back to Nevermore.

“Alright, Class!” smacking your pages upon the desk in an attempt to get them to line up, “I’m proud of you all for doing your best on your tests this week. I figured maybe you’d all enjoy an early dismissal.”

Smiles spread from one side of the room to the other, each student offering a “Thank you,” and giving their praises to you as a teacher. You propped open the classroom door, prepared to greet each student on their way out. Glancing over in their direction, they were all hovering with small colored envelopes held in their hands. Curious, you inquired, “Are you all alright? What…what’s this?” extending your hand towards the pink sheet of paper that your eldest student had pushed out in your direction.

Flipping over the card and tilting your head, you gently dragged your fingertips across the letters. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Y/N!” Followed by words of the students admiration for their favorite teacher. You. Each of your students had signed and left their own little note on their envelopes. Trying your best to not make the tears welling in your eyes noticeable, “Why, thank you. You’re all so sweet!”

Collecting another card each time a student left the classroom.

Taking the stack of cards to your desk, you sat and carefully read each one. Chuckling at each silly joke, sniffling at the heartfelt words, and growing ever so grateful for your home at Nevermore. You carefully placed them all in your bag and set off to join your coworkers for lunch, you couldn’t wait to show them your very first valentines cards. How truly lucky you felt.

“Miss! Woah-“ you spun around to see who was calling for you, catching Enid on her way towards the floor. “Oh goodness, where’s the fire, Miss Sinclair?” helping her stand up straight, she straightened out her uniform and grinned. “Sorry! I was just so excited to run into you in the hall so I could give you- oh wait where’s..” patting around her blazer in search of something. “Oh, no no no. I’m sorry, Miss Y/N. I must’ve left my card for you back in my dorm. I-“

“Here.” There’s that unmistakable monotone voice of the lovely, Miss Addams.

“Oh, Wednesday! Thank you thank you!!” Buzzing with excitement, Enid handed you the rainbow envelope. You were about to thank her, before you noticed that Miss Addams was also shoving an envelope in your direction. Matching her signature black attire, it was adorned with a wax seal. “You too, Wednesday? Goodness. What did I do to get so lucky to have students like you all,” you opened your cards and listened to Enids bubbly chatter. “Well, when Principal Weems had mentioned her idea of everyone chipping in to give you your first real Valentine’s Day we all-“

“Weems? She put you all up to this?” You instantly felt the butterflies that fluttered in your tummy and prickled your cheeks pink.

Thanking the girls for their cards, you practically ran to Larissa’s office.

Without knocking on the door, you waltzed into the office. You smirked, “Principal Weems? The craziest thing happened today,” leaning over the edge of her desk, pulling out the cards from your bag.

“Oh? And what’s that, Miss Y/N?”

Handing her the envelopes, you went over how each student and colleague had gifted you your very first valentines cards. Searching for something within her gaze, “Any clue on how they might have gotten the idea?”

Fiddling with her fingers, Larissa had bashfully confessed, “Well, I- you’ve just been such a lovely addition to our family here at Nevermore and to know that you’ve never received a valentines card? Oh, we simply couldn’t have that, now could we?”

Smiling as thanks and grabbing your things to go, you laughed and headed for the door.

“Oh, Miss Y/N! I nearly forgot. Here, I got one for you as well,” Larissa spoke with a smile. Yet, her voice seemed a little shaky. “Larissa! You didn’t have to, really, you’re so sweet- you…” blinking a few times, trying to make sure you were reading her beautiful handwriting correctly. Looking up at her through furrowed brows, you wouldn’t have been able to stop the smile that grew on your face if you had tried. “Are you asking me out on a date, Principal?”

“I- I understand if you would rather not, you’re my employee after all, but…but you know-“

“I’d love to, Larissa,” cutting her anxious rant short. You bit your lip and stood upon your tippy toes, leaving a small kiss on her cheek.

Watching her fumble her words and blush like crazy was the simply a joy to witness. You danced out of the room and leaned against the hall wall, clutching the card from Larissa to your chest. You’ve been pinning over this woman since you started working here, God.. how worth the wait it was.

#oh god this is probably no good I haven’t written in so long #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #principal weems #wednesday weems #larissa x reader #weems #pebbles is sorry for quality #weems imagine #wednesday 2022

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madarasgirl · 2 years ago

Text

Madara SFW Alphabet

Happy Valentine’s Day! Madara doesn’t celebrate! So we bring Valentine’s to him.

Tried to come up with words to some letters that are a bit different. Have fun!

A- Asking you out

He’s quite awkward but acts nonchalant and indifferent. You were possibly unaware he was romantically interested. He knows he isn’t a great flirt, so he hides this by being forward and blunt like he normally is, making a date invitation sound a lot more like an order.

B- Body part (Favourite)

Are not his eyes. While he acknowledges their power and utilizes them to devastating effect, each Sharingan upgrade was derived from significant personal loss. His Sharingan is a reminder of his greatest losses and failures. Even his Rinnegan was only obtained after a lifetime of exceptional bitterness in his heart.

His hands are more favoured. Not only do they get him through regular stuff like the activities of living and taking care of you, they help him carry out many of his amazing feats, like forming hand seals, performing taijutsu, and wielding weapons.

C- Cuddles

He is affectionate in private with you when he no longer has his public image to maintain. He enjoys lengthy, wordless hugs anywhere in the house, as long as it’s with you –by the entrance, lying together on the couch, in the shower. He’s the one who will nuzzle you and hold on for a few more moments when you’re ready to part and do the next thing in your day. Your presence and touch drive his demons away.

D- Dominant MADARA is uber dominant. That’s what the big “D” in his name stands for, aside from the obvious. He likes making the major decisions in the relationship and would be upset if he wasn’t consulted. He is however easygoing on the more trivial choices in daily life and readily goes with whatever you decide. Careful, he will take advantage if you’re too agreeable with him. Don’t be his doormat. Remember, he likes to be challenged so he can prove he’s right.

E- Emotions

Expresses his feelings through physical or practical means. That includes defending you from enemies, acts of service (ensuring your coffee is made the way you like it in the morning, taking care of laundry from time to time so you won’t have to worry about it), sex, and through lingering non-sexual touches. Madara ensures you are clothed, fed, and have a safe place to sleep. You will be provided for and know you’re loved, even if he doesn’t gush about it. Madara isn’t the best with words unless he’s waxing deep philosophy or roasting someone.

F- Fighting with S/O

Madara’s not going to hit you, because let’s be honest. If he were to strike you in an argument, you would likely get seriously injured and/or die. This drama king often practiced conflict resolution through battle and getting himself beaten up (which sometimes he let happen, like with Gai so he could get his adrenaline rush), so he will let you hit him, on the other hand. I don’t advocate abuse from either partner, but Madara would let you hit him if you chose to out of anger until eventually, either he stops you or you run out of steam. At this point, he’ll try to talk things through, even if he is harsh and blunt (with no clue how to make his words sound nicer) and this first attempt may not resolve your differences.

G- Good Morning (how does he wake you up) Usually he gets up early and leaves you sleeping after giving you a kiss. On other days, if neither of you have anywhere to be that morning, he stays in bed with you in his arms until you wake up naturally at an hour when you’ve had enough sleep. After memorizing your waking expressions, he kisses you all over despite your attempts to dodge him because you have morning breath.

H- Hypertension

Something that irritates and gives him a high blood pressure is a messy environment. Madara is an orderly person who probably has OCD. If you’re messy, he will try to rearrange your stuff and teach you about organization, until you can’t find your stuff due to his meddling. Since Madara wants you in his life and you’re not changing your ways, eventually you and him will call a truce in some areas of the home/in life where you get to have your way and he will turn a blind eye.

I- In Labour (and Delivery) He’s a nervous wreck and a bit of a monster, even if it isn’t the first child you’re having. Madara already lost too many people and he’ll be damned if he loses you too. It doesn’t matter to him if childbirth is much safer today than in the past. He yells and glares at all the people trying to help you, feeling helpless because he isn’t useful in a medical setting. This is his way of attempting to exert some control over the situation. He’s a disruptive menace and would have been thrown out long ago if anyone was capable of such a feat. Depending on your demeanor and stage of labour, maybe you snap and demand he leave. Otherwise he will bear your crushing grip on his hands without a single complaint and whisper words of encouragement and love to you throughout the entire course of labour. He’s civil again only after mother and baby are safe. Wait, but then he’ll be in over-protective papa mode. Never mind!

J- Juvenile

Madara is silly when he’s happy, which admittedly isn’t often. A friendly spar gets him going, while challenging him in dumb things (ex: a race, whoever can eat more of something, etc) will bring out his sense of competition and more childish side, provided whoever he is competing with provides some sort of resistance. He loves a good fight, even if it isn’t really a ‘fight.’

K- Kiss

Madara is a passionate deep kisser when given the choice. He prefers taking the time to explore you properly and unwind, which he only does in private. On rare occasions in public, he may pull you aside for a chaste kiss when he’s feeling emotional for you. He’s a visual man and likes to peek at your kissing face.

L- Little ones He loves children despite their fear of him. It’s one of the only times he has any semblance to being soft. Madara would love to have his own children with you. He is also the type to adopt kids and be a mentor to them. He is involved in his children’s lives, ensures they are trained properly, disciplined and is a firm, yet fair father (or father-figure). He will not be as cruel as his own father, not wishing to perpetuate the harsh style of upbringing he endured.

M- Macho

This silly man is a dramatic show-off. At home, he’s casual about his strength, offering to help lift heavy things and open tough objects. Whenever you happen to catch Madara training, he flaunts flamboyantly and needlessly performs much fancier techniques to flex for you when he’s sure you’re watching.

N- No (Deal breaker)

Do not lie or betray him. Madara highly values his bonds. It took so much for him to trust and become open with you. Therefore, he holds you to a certain standard. He expects you to reciprocate and be loyal and honest with him. He will give you the world and all of him in return.

O- Openness (when does he start revealing things about himself?)

Not any time soon. This man is paranoid and only trusts himself and a few of his closest kin. In fact, you should feel honoured if he even deigns you worthy enough to speak more than a few sentences to at a time. Madara telling you the deepest secrets of his heart? You’re more valued than you’d ever understand. Now that you got him to open his mouth, be prepared for an earful and him to not shut up.

P- Protect

Madara is at his heart a protector. Everything he does is about protecting others, even hypothetical future generations (which later morphed into a twisted plan to take responsibility for all humankind and forcing them into a dream world). He loves having people depend on him, which gives him purpose. He is generally peaceful until anything threatens those he swore to protect. He will ruthlessly destroy those things without remorse.

Q- Quizzes (how much does he remember about you?)

Everything, including all the small details about you and even if he’s quiet when you tell him things casually in passing. You’ll be the one to forget anniversaries or that you have an appointment tomorrow where you are supposed to bring extra shoes, not him.

R- Random Headcanon

Madara takes care of stray animals, sometimes bringing them into his home for the ones in direr need in order to feed, medicate, wash, and care for their injuries before releasing them. He’s a kind man at heart and someone has to care for those weak, forgotten beings. His previous rescues occasionally visit him in the garden. He doesn’t let his falcons out when his small animals are visiting.

S- Serious

He is seriously serious about his relationship with you, once he figured out he’s romantically interested, wants to be involved, went through asking you out, and is actively courting you (plus the other steps). He’s extremely committed and will try his best. I’ve mentioned before that once you’re his, he’s also yours. It would take a lot for him to give up on you and your relationship, likely a betrayal of unforgiveable magnitude on your part, which he would never get over.

T- Talent(less)

Madara is talented in almost everything and can learn basically anything he sets his mind to. Possessing the Sharingan is a useful shortcut for those endeavors. But what about the opposite? Madara is a terrible fit in any sort of therapist profession where he has to give advice related to people’s issues. Try picturing him as a psychologist, psychiatrist, or a marriage counsellor.

Madara actually has the perfect tools set up to make him successful in each of those fields –a deep understanding of human nature, excellent analysis and critical thinking skills, heck he can look into his victim’s mind with the Sharingan! He sees the problem very clearly. His issue comes back to his lack of talent in social interactions. His delivery of his diagnosis to patients would be interesting. It's way too blunt, and when coupled with his amazing insults, his patients end up more traumatized and with more problems than they started with. Perhaps his help leads to a divorce.

U- Unrequited Love

I am (very) biased, but how can anyone not love Madara once they get to know him as a person beyond his reputation? He has so many great personality traits once you get over a few of the less positive ones haha.

Unrequited love will be very painful for Madara, even if he’ll be accepting of this. He dwells on his undesirable aspects and why you shouldn’t be together. He holds this pain to himself and lets it fester, but goes on with his life and ambitions, keeping an eye out on you from a distance. No one loves harder than an Uchiha. There will likely never be anyone else who’ll replace your position in his heart even if he wants to forget you.

V- Vulnerability

Madara presents a stoic facade, but he’s truthfully very sensitive and prone to be hurt by the ones he loves most. He remembers all your interactions, even your conversations down to the exact wording. Depending on the conversation and the health of your relationship at the time, he ruminates over your words and may take things out of context. Beyond the tough exterior, there’s that sensitive man who feels excruciatingly deeply. This vulnerability leads to him feeling hurt, even if he doesn’t show it until much later, when his emotions boil over and he pettily throws your past words back at you in spite.

W- Wanderlust

Madara enjoys traveling. He is more open-minded about people from different backgrounds than other shinobi from the Warring States generations. If there was peace and he wasn’t wandering the world as a bitter missing-nin, if he didn’t have the responsibilities as clan leader and was not founding a village, he’d be very interested in experiencing different cultures and customs.

If he could hide his scary aura and murder vibes, he’d appreciate the anonymity of people not knowing who he is and getting to live with some normalcy. If he had his beloved Izuna (somehow) and S/O with him, this would already be picture perfect to Madara.

Y- Yearning (what he does when missing you) When he’s away on missions, he replays his Sharingan memories of you. Some of these were captured during random endearing moments when he was feeling especially soft for you. They keep him warm on his darkest days, reminding him there’s still someone at home waiting for him, someone who needs and loves him for who he is. They give him strength and help him stay sane. He can’t wait to come home to you.

Z- Zzz (sleeping)

Madara doesn’t sleep much. Have you seen his eye bags? When he finally gets some shut-eye, he’s the model shinobi. It’s as light as a cat’s. You can’t sneak up on him. Even if he was sleeping, he wakes and knows when you stir in slumber and when you’re dreaming. It’s almost impossible for him to sleep at all without you.

#madara headcanons #uchiha madara #madara #madara uchiha #madara x you #madara x reader

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