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lufyuu · 5 months ago

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''River's Quest..?,,

Protagonist Oc [River!] x Bottom male Reader

Part 2! Part 1

Tw/s: overstimulation, rough rough sex, face fucking, dacryphilia, hair grabbing/pulling, jealous River, public sex, almost caught, a bit of degration, a bit of praising, a bit of edging.

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[System]

—Quest started—

`Click here for details`

Recently, you've made a new friend and River's been pouty about it even if you dont know the reason behind his poutiness. Not only that, he had become even more clingy than before, where ever you went, he was always not too far behind, making you feel a bit suffocated. It all started not too long ago. How you met your new friend, that is.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"Hey can we be partners?", a feathery voice asked as a finger tapped your shoulder. This is the first time anyone has asked you to be their partner in a project, ever since that incident. Everyone's been too nervous to partner up with you seeing as River is always around you. Well, almost anyway. Today was different, River had a very important project to attend to, leaving you all alone in class. The moment the guy had asked you to partner up, it was immediately followed by the other classmates surrounding you with the same question, shoving the shy classmate aside. "Can we be partners!?", they all giddily said, making you feel overwhelmed at the sudden focus. You knew it was all because they wanted to get in River's good graces seeing as you're the closest person to him at the moment. Even closer than Aria, his very own 'girlfriend.' With the whole classroom being filled with the cacophony of voices, everyone wanting you to partner up with them, the teacher had no choice but to slam the board to get everyone's attention. "Everyone calm down, you're all being way too loud for anyone's liking, especially [Name]'s, how on earth will he be able to choose with you all talking on top of each other?" Thankfully, they all stayed quiet for a moment, looking at you with anticipation.

You decided to go with the guy who didn't try to make you go deaf, the one who had the guts to ask you in the first place before the domino effect took place. In all honesty, you should have paid more attention to the way his eyes scanned you up and down before sitting next to you.

"Thanks", he says, looking into your eyes for no reason in particular. You nod and begin to workout the project, pulling out your notes and laptop. "Let's start it right now since the deadline's pretty tight." Without your knowledge, he continues to stare at you even though you aren't looking directly at him. He eventually does snap out of it after you look at him, confused on why he's staring. Directing his focus on the task at hand. "Yeah..definitely", his voice sounded like a kid who was caught with his hand inside a cookie jar.

Reviewing over the material together, the two of you eventually map out the entire project, splitting the material between the both of you. You had the task of making the presentation while he had the task of condensing the material to make it easier to digest. You press on the power button on your laptop, expecting it to boot up immediately. Only to be greeted with a black screen. "Huh? I could've sworn I charged it last night", you scratch your head, confusion plastered on your face. "What's wrong?", he asked, despite his words, you felt it was void of any worry. You shake your head, "it's nothing, I'll just make the presentation at my dorm and send it to you afterwards", you begin to put back your notes and laptop into your bag. Coincidentally, the bell suddenly rings, indicating the end of class and school altogether. Though, before you could get up from your chair, you felt a tight grip on your wrist, stopping you. "Can I come over? It'll be much more efficient and effective", he smiles, expecting you to agree, "I don't know about that...", you hesitate since nobody from campus has ever been in your house, apart from your close friends that is. But, no harm would be done right? It's just a simple presentation.

Click! the lock clicked open as you turned the key. You grab the handle and pull it, opening the door to your dorm. Peaceful and quiet. Those are the words not a lot of students who live in dorms can use to describe their place due to having a messy roommate or what not. Fortunately for you, your roommate had moved out not long ago, leaving the whole dorm to yourself. "No roommate?" "nope", you answer simply, getting the point across quickly. "Take a seat on the sofa, I'm just going to put my things down, and we can get started", you grab your laptop out of your bag before placing it near your bed. The laptop is placed on your desk, you plug it in and make sure that this time it's on. The last thing you want now is to prolong the guy's stay. You sit down next to him, notes in hand. "Oh right, I never got your name", he perks up at this, "it's Trav!", "nice to meet you, Trav, I'm–", "[Name], yes I know", he cuts you off almost excitedly. He really is unpredictable. Partly because of this, the atmosphere becomes awkward, the two of you not having any topics to bring up.

"Well...Do you want a drink? I can make us some hot chocolate or tea if you prefer that", you try to break the awkward silence with a question, "some hot chocolate sounds nice", he nods as he says this. You get up to boil some water as you get two cups and two packets of hot chocolate mix. "Hope you don't mind instant hot chocolate", you chuckle, "of course not", you could hear him laugh a bit aswell. At least you managed to break the awkwardness for just a moment. The whole time you were making the hot chocolate, you felt him starin at you but whenever you turned around, he wouldn't be looking at you at all. This whole thing was kinda creeping you out but what could you do? You were the one who picked him to be your partner in the first place.

With two cups of hot chocolate in your hands, you head back to the couch and hand him a cup. He thanks you and takes a sip of the drink, "delicious!", he says while looking at you, not paying attention to the cup as some of the liquid spills onto your shirt, "ow shit!", you wince, feeling the hot chocolate on your skin. Seeing this, Trav remains calm, reaching over to grab a few tissues and wiping your shirt a bit, "I think you should take this off", you nod, you'll just change to another shirt, no big deal. You tug your shirt over your head, your hair being ruffled a bit and you get up to toss it in the laundry basket. Trav stared at your half naked body, oogling at your frame before you finally find a sweater to put on, ending his wandering eyes from looking even more.

It's been a month since your first meeting with Trav. You noticed his shy persona going away little by little. Now he's definitely more confident. At least he has the confidence to be 'jokingly flirtatious' with you. Not to mention you surprisingly haven't gotten a love quest ever since you started hanging out with Trav more than River. River took notice of this quickly. He was only gone for a day, and you already made yourself a friend? A friend who dares to flirt with you no less. Do you not know who you are? You ought to be more careful.

Due to this, River has been even more protective of you. He even holds your hand tightly in class under the table. And at this moment, he'd doing exactly that. His fingers intertwined with yours, unwilling to let go even if your hand's sweating. "Let go of my hand—", "no", he answers firmly, not even looking at you as though it was an obvious answer. You huff, you've tried to pull away but his grip's too strong. It just ends up with him pulling the "puppy" eyes on you, making you sigh in defeat almost everytime. "That's all for today's material, please don't forget to turn in your work tomorrow morning on my desk", the teacher says as she walks out the door with the class finally over. You thought you'd be free from River's grip, but no, he was still holding your hand when you got up. "Where are you going?", he asked, looking up at you to which you reply, "none of your business", if this was a cartoon, an irk mark would have appeared on your forehead. You've barely had enough time to yourself, let alone with friends after getting into River's sight. "Let go", your tone somewhat frustrated, hoping he'd let go. This of course, doesn't work, "I'll go with you—", "hey River, can you help me with this?", a random classmate comes up to his desk, handing him a big stack of paper, he reaches for the papers with both hands, letting go of yours in the process and leaving an opening for you to finally sprint out of class to hang out with your friend.

You thought River would follow you but when you look back, he's nowhere to be seen, making you let out a sigh of relief rather than defeat. Looking around, you find yourself at the end of a hallway connecting to a garden. You check your phone to see it's 3:10PM. Trav had promised to meet you here so the two of you could walk home together after he showed you something in the garden. But it seems like he's running a bit late considering it's been 10 minutes since the promised time. You were late too but considering he hasn't even arrived yet, you were quite early. You decide to give him a call. *ring* *ring*, but no answer. "Did his teacher hold him back?", you wonder as you stand there waiting for him to show up.

After a couple more minutes, you felt a pair of hands covering your eyes, covering your sight. "Trav?", you guess only to hear a very pouty, "Trav!?" Turning around, you were met face to face with River, "you thought I was Trav?", his expression turns gloom, disappointed and blue. Seeing this, you roll your eyes, he's probably pretending like he always is to get your sympathy, "I was expecting Trav to show up, he's running a bit late", you explain the situation with a tired look, "kindly fuck off", you smile with a hint of anger. It's been ages since you walked home with a friend, he should at least let you breathe once in a while. Just as you say that, he grabs your wrist, pulling you to the storage room, which is conveniently placed within that hallway, not letting you slip away.

He closes the door with one hand, the other still gripping your hand just as hard. "[Name], you have no idea what Trav will end up doing. You do know who you are, don't you?", he asks as if it's the mosy obvious question in the world. You squint your eyes in confusion, "what do you mean?", he opens his mouth to say something but stops to rub his forehead a bit, "have you not checked the system window?", this made you even more confused, what reason would you have to check it? You shake your head. He stays silent for a bit, his face looks as if he's finally put one and one together. A sigh is let out before he speaks, "so that's why you've been so idiotic and oblivious", you're clearly offended by this statement, no, this lie. "Excuse you."

"You've made me upset, [Name]", he pouts once more, "you know, I was actually starting to think you liked him", he says with another sigh, a sigh of relief this time, "who?", you ask, confused still, "Trav!", he says in a slightly louder voice, your hand free of his grasp by now. You couldn't help but laugh at his admittion, "so..Let me get this straight, you were being an annoying bastard just because you got jealous of Trav?", you couldn't stop laughing. The mere thought of a protagonist getting jealous of an unimportant role was just hilarious. This comment made him frown, his emotions are not to be taken lightly. He'll definitely show you.

[System]

—River's Quest—

Accept the punishment given

"The what quest?", you raise an eyebrow at the title. On the other hand, River had a knowing smirk plastered on his face, the frown long gone. "I guess the system's on my side huh?", you look up at him, no longer distracted by the window as it closes by itself as always. You stare at him with a 'on your side? Please' look. "[Name], get on your knees", you chuckle, "you think I'd just do that? That's ridiculous—", just as you say those words, your knees give out on you, making you get on your knees infront of River with your phone being dropped on the floor next to you. Infront of his crotch. "You're such a good boy", he smiles with his eyes closed, happy at your obedience, "what just...", "what just happened? My dear angel, have you forgotten I'm the protagonist?", his hand extends to grab a handful of your hair, bending down a bit to meet eye to eye. His eyes intimidating like a predator's. Like someone who already knows the outcome. He stares at your eyes. You feel as if he's staring into your soul, you're terrified of this feeling, of him, of what he's able to do.

"Let go..", you manage to mumble out despite your fear. He tilts his head a bit in satisfaction hearing your weak voice. "Alright then", he lets go of your hair, you look down, trying to calm down from the fear you just experienced when, zippp, you hear a zipping sound coming nor too far from your face. Looking up, you see River already taking his hard-on out. You're once again face to face with his girthy cock. "Angel..Suck it", his eyes full of lust, you could have sworn there were hearts in them. You instinctively reach out for his cock, wrapping your hands around it before letting your lips wrap around his tip, earning a very satisfied huff, "that's it...go down on my cock", he encourages you to shove his dick deeper in your mouth, down your throat. You slowly but surely take more and more of him in your mouth, trying your best to not accidentally choke in the process which grows increasingly hard after a few seconds, you forgot how long he actually is. You look up to see his hand hovering over his mouth incase he accidentally moans too loud. Even if classes have ended for the day, it doesn't mean there aren't students still lurking around. "You can do better than that", he says as you've taken about half of his cock in your mouth. You wanted to throw a snarky comment at him but with your mouth full, you couldn't utter a single word, so you opted to glare at him instead. "A glare won't stop me from doing this", he says as you feel him grab another handful of your hair and making you take all of him in your throat. You choke, whine, and even shed a few tears due to the unexpected choking sensation. You could hear River let out a loud moan. Just you were adjusting, you felt River's grip tighten as he pulls you back until your lips were only touching the tip before pushing you back down, "what a shame Trav isn't here to see you choking on my cock", he smirks before repeating the move over and over again for a few seconds.

"[Name]?", speak of the devil, Trav is finally here. He calls out your name in the hallway. You can hear him so close to you, hindered by a single brick wall. You hear your phone buzzing on the floor, "what a bother..", River sighs, grabbing your phone and turning on do not disturb mode, putting it in his pocket to ensure it stays that way. "He isn't even answering the phone", Trav sighs as his footsteps get closer and closer to the storage room. River only tells you to "keep sucking." Those words alone were enough to make you keep sucking his cock even without him face fucking you. The door to the storage room slowly opens, "oh, River, have you seen [Name]?", the confused man asks, thank God you and River are behind stacks of boxes, Trav is unable to see the way you're sucking River so good. "[Name]? I haven't seen him since class ended, why?", River answers calmly as Trav scratches his head, "really? I could have sworn I heard his phone buzzing around here", he thinks to himself for a moment while River tries to hold in his groans and moans. "What are you doing here anyways?", Trav asks, taking a step into the room which makes you panic a bit hearing his voice get closer. River chuckles at your panicked expression, he then grips your hair to make sure your head stays in place, with all of his length in your mouth, doen your throat. "Please refrain from stepping any closer, I'm tidying up and wouldn't want any dust coming off of you", he smiles softly, admittingly a fake smile, at Trav, causing him to back away. "Oh alright then, don't let me disturb you", he says as he finally walks away, closing the door on his way out.

River turns his attention to you, eyes filled with tears, mouth filled with his cock, you could even taste his precum. You feel a tug at your hair, signaling for you to continue. You try your best to satisfy him, licking and sucking his cock so good. When you look up at him, you see his bored expression, "how do you expect me to cum when you're sucking like that?", he asks, expecting more from you. In order to satisfy himself, he starts to face fuck you, thrusting into your mouth once more, harder and faster this time to chase his climax. You could feel tears rolling down your cheeks, why is he so rough. "Now this...agh..is how to please me", he says in-between moans and breaths. You had a hard time breathing but it'd all be over soon as you could hear River say he's about to cum. "Don't swallow it yet", is what he says before cumming in your mouth, pulling out to see his thick cum overflowing your mouth, spilling a bit on the floor, "open your mouth", he demands which you obey. "Good", your mouth filled with cum, not being able to swallow due to his orders. "You took me so well, you can swallow now", he has a mischievous look on his face, fantasizing about all the things he can and will do to you in this very storage room.

"I've really been holding this in, won't you do more for me? You've been neglecting me these past few days and giving your attention to that pesky man", he refuses to say his name at this very moment in order to not ruin his own mood. Truth be told, Trav got under his skin simply for being around you. "[Name], stand up", your body moves by itself, letting you stand up on both your legs whjch were previously weak beyond belief. With his rough hands, River bends you over on one of the boxes, fortunately, it's stable enough to withstand the force. "You're so pretty, it's no wonder he'd want you", he scans your features and your clothed body, "but you're mine", he proceeds to grab your clothes and rip it into two. You cover yourself with your hands, "what was that for!", he doesn't answer, he only trails his hands down your chest, groping and squeezing your nipples to try and get a reaction out of you, which it does. "Ah..!", you moan out a bit, the sensation painful yet you feel pleasure at the same time. "I'm glad you're still as sensitive as last time we fucked", he turns his attention to your pants which without any hesitation, he pulls down with your boxers along with it leaving you naked. "R-River! We're still in school, what if someone sees, the door can't be locked you know!", you try to salvage what was left of your shirt but River beats you to it and throws them on the ground where you can't reach the pieces. "That's precisely why I want to fuck and mess you up here, angel", he pauses and then continues, "if anyone were to walk in here, they'd know you're fully mine, nobody else's."

With that reminder, he lifts up one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, that way, you cant close your legs even if you wanted to, giving him an easy access to your hole. "We haven't done it in a while, will you even be able to take it all the way in?", his teasing reminds you of all the times the two of you did this sort of act in class without anyone noticing due to whatever magic the system performed. "Damnit, if you're going to fuck me, stop talking and do it already!", you cover your face due to how red it is by now.

River doesn't say a single word. Instead, he uses two fingers to stretch you out, taking you by surprise once more as you moan loudly. God you hope nobody's near this specific hallway, if there is someone, both you and River would be found out. "You like that don't you? To have something of mine in you, you love it. Just wait for my cock to be inside of you", he can't stop the dirty talk when it comes to you.

You can feel his fingers stretching you out, moving around. His fingers are long and knows how to turn you on even more than you already are. You let out a string of moans, the pleasure being unreal. Even after a few minutes, you still writhed in pleasure from his fingers alone.

Your hole suddenly felt weirdly empty, you look at him to see him retracting his fingers. You look on, knowing his cock was going to enter you soon. He guides your hands to wrap around his neck, he positions his cock to be at your entrance and grabs your waist, "I'm not going to go easy on you angel", you swore his pupils were hearts for a second, his lust filled eyes looked into yours. In just a second and without any sort of warning, he thrusts all the way into you, you let out a mixture of a moan and a scream, the pain and pleasure mixing together until you can't form thoughts, all you can do is spill out even more tears. "Hah...all in one go, you're amazing angel", his praises go unnoticed by you due to how your eyes are rolling back from pleasure. Your hands which were once around his neck, scratched his back a bit. Fortunately for River, it did not tear skin. "Be careful there, I'll be leaving campus with blood all over my back if you keep doing that", he joked. Even you knew that he wouldnt mind that kind of thing. Infact, he'd probably love your scratches on him, it's as if you're 'marking' him in some way.

Once you clamed down from the initial shock, he wasted no time and started to thurst in and out of you. Hitting your spots just right as you moan out of pleasure from your academic rival. "Moan out my name angel, I want to hear it", even though you're a mess at this moment, you manage to say his name, "Ri-Riv...ahh...River!", with your shaky voice saying his name, he lets out a very satisfied hum and continues to pound your little hole, abusing it all while you're too weak to do anything about it. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. River certainly noticed this. In order to stop you from cumming so fast, he places his thumb over your cock head, you look at him, almost terrified at what he's doing. "You're not going to cum unless I let you, got it?", he's getting back at you for all those times you ditched him for Trav. "We're going to have a long, long day ahead of us."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Seven.

River has been abusing your hole with his cock for seven rounds. The only reason you know is because River himself kept count. He made sure to count every single round. It doesn't seem like he'll stop either. Both your bodies sweating, dripping with sweat by now. The room became humid, it felt as if the whole world stopped for just the two of you. You lost track of time, your perception of time ruined by how rough River has been fucking you. A minute feels like an hour because of him not letting you rest for even a second. You thought you'd die from pleasure if that was even a possible cause of death. Too much sex? That's one way to die.

With this being the eigth round, colors began to mix together, you lost focus a few rounds ago, only being able to see River's face, feeling the rhythm of his cock going and out of you. "N-no...more...", you somehow manage to mumble out."One more time..Angel", he responds as he's panting heavily, hands still gripping your waist like steel. With one final deep thrust to your prostate, you shiver as your cock releases more cum on your stomach along with River's cum which spilled into your hole once more, you could see a pool of cum on the floor and boxes. "Atta boy..", was all you heard before passing out right then and there.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

When you did awake, you were in River's arms. You look at him and blink a couple of times, covering your mouth as you yawn a bit. "Huh..?", you stare at River's resting face. He looks so peaceful, unlike the River who basically teases the shit out of you for a living. Thinking of it alone made you pissed so you let go of the thought to savor this very moment. You reach out one hand to stroke his hair a few times, his soft fluffy brown hair felt like a cloud. He opened his eyes and smiled at you, "enjoying the view, [Name]?", there he goes going back to his teasing self. You instantly retract your hand, "no", you simply answered and closed your eyes once more. He wouldn't let you avoid him that easily though. "Heyyy look at mee", he pouts, trying to get you to open your eyes with a few soft nudges. You eventually caved in and the two of you met eye to eye. "Angel, you're gorgeous", he says out of the blue, "where did that even come from", you giggle a bit from the sudden compliment, "can't I compliment my boyfriend!?", "boyfriend? We're not even dating yet", you say that but you definitely saw the appeal in it. "Cmonn, admit it, you like me dontcha [Name]?", he has a cheeky smile, he knows he's hard to resist, almost impossible to resist to be very honest. "Is this your way of asking me to be your boyfriend?", "maybeeeee what do you say?", he gets up, using his palm to rest his head as he looks at you, "do you want to be?", you pretend to think about it, "hm, after you've fucked me over 10 times? I don't know..", you respond sarcastically before eventually laughing at your own words, "I assume that's a yes", he laughs too before tackling you and getting on top of you. He leans for a kiss but you suddenly remember something.

"River, why was Trav able to see you..? Plus why was the quest even named after you???", you ask, usually the love quests would make the both of you invisible to others, why was it different that time? And especially the sudden title change??"I'm the protagonist silly, I can do whatever I want with the system— oops, cat's out of the bag", he says nonchalantly, "you WHAT!?", you yell in shock, turns out the rumour is real afterall, "ah ah, don't go around telling people this, it wouldn't be as fun if everyone knew", he sighs a bit but you could tell it wasn't all that serious to him.

[System]

Welcome, [Name] [L. Name], after completing the quest, you have been registered as The Protagonist's other half

With the window basically in your face, you read it out loud and get shocked once more, causing you to get up and suddenly lose all feeling in your two legs. Fortunately for you, River caught you in time. "I fucked you real good huh?", he chuckles while you're in his arms basically processing information and the fact you'd probably not be able to go to classes for 3 days because of how rough River fucked you. "River you damn horny bastard!"

Needless to say, River had to carry you around for about 3 days. He doesn't regret it one bit as this showed everyone the two of you are a thing now. Eventually even Trav stayed away from you due to the glares River would throw his way everytime he got close. Whenever someone got close enough to ask what had happened, River would answer in the most brutally honest way he could.

"I fucked him too hard"

══════════════════════════════

And it's finally out yall the wait is over😘‼️ its currently 5AM and I'm posting this lmao

×For a bit of context, reader had always had the role of being River's love interest ever since he slept with River, he only never bothered to check the system roles, however, River and Trav do know that reader's their goal/possible love interest which is why theyre kinda all over reader. Trav is River's love rival which is why he hates it whenever Trav breathes, he wishes he would js drop dead.

#「 by the hands of xin 」#bottom male reader #male reader #oc x reader #oc x male reader #x male reader #lgbtq #mlm #top male character #Xin's River Sterling ☆

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thecupidwitch · 2 months ago

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Sun Magick

What Is A Sun Magick?

The Sun (also called Sol) is the one and only star in our solar system. Throughout the time almost every culture has worshiped the Sun as either a God or Goddess. Ancient Shamans used the power of the sun to heal the mind. The Sun is associated with life, health and healing. The light of guidance and illumination is an important magickal symbol. Solar energy helps you center in your own power, like the center of the solar system. Planet Earth orbits around the Sun. Other bodies that orbit the Sun include other planets, asteroids, meteoroids, comets and dust. Generally, the primary stellar body around which an object orbits is called its "sun", and stars in a multiple star system are referred to as the "suns" of bodies in that system.

Correspondences:

Associated deities: Aditi, Ah Kinchil, Ama-Terasu, Apollo, Aten, Brighid, Dhatara, Frey, Helios/Sol, Itzamna, Lucifer, Mithra, Mystere, Nitten, Paiva, Ra, Savitar, Apollo

Colors: Orange, amber, gold, yellow, red

Animals: Lion, Sparrowhawk, Griffin, Hawk, Bees

Incense: Cinnamon, clove, pine, citrus, Benzoin, Pine, Frankincense, Labdanum, Olibanum

Crystals: Sunstone, Goldstone, Ruby, Carnelian, Amazonite, Citrine, Tiger's Eye, Golden Topaz, Fire Agate

Sun Associations: Success, Empowerment, Ambition, Enlightenment, Goals, Generosity, Spirituality, Male energy, Health, Vitality, The Gods, Joy, Freedom, Leadership, Matters of the heart, Creativity, Friendship, Growth, Personal fulfillment, Self confidence, Wealth, Individuality, Pride, Energy, Power

Plants and Herbs: Sunflower, calendula, marigold, daylily, orange, citron, saffron, pine, mistletoe, rosemary, buttercup, heliotrope, bay laurel, daisy, walnut, acorn, maize, wheat, hops, cloves, cinnamon

Sun Phases

Sunrise

when the sun wakes up and peers over the horizon. This phase is all about new beginnings, changes, health, employment, renewal, resurrection and finding the right direction.

The Morning

the sun is growing in strength, so it brings the magical power for growth, positive energy, resolutions, courage, harmony, happiness, strength, activity, building projects and plans, prosperity and expansion of ideas.

High Noon

When the sun reaches its peak in the sky at midday – work magic for health, physical energy, wisdom and knowledge. It is also a good time to pop your tools or crystals out that need charging. (Note: some crystals can fade in strong sunlight so check first before putting them out).

Afternoon

This is a time to work in your communication, clarity, travel, exploration and professional matters

Sunset

As the sun takes itself off down below the horizon, work magic for removing depression, stress and confusion, letting go, releasing or finding out the truth of a situation.

Sun Water

Sun water is very similar to moon water. But rather than being charged by the moon, it’s charged by the sun. Sun water can be especially useful for helping boost the energy of a spell, to help an intention grow, and to cleanse.

Instructions:

Get a glass bottle

Fill it with any type of water.

Leave the bottle with water out in the sunlight or shade (indirect sunlight) during any time of day and for your preferred amount of time.

Tip Jar

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velarisdusk · 3 months ago

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Cursed Flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

word count: 8k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), biting, oral fixation, enemies to lovers (as much lovers as I could fit into an 8k fic) | mentions of: blood, attempted murder via witch curse | strong language ] summary: When Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, stumbles into a healer's shop under a mysterious curse, it sets off a chain of events neither could have anticipated. As the skilled healer works to unravel the dark magic threatening his life, tension and attraction crackle between them. author's note: SO EXCITED FOR YALL TO READ THIS ONE!!!!!!! i received this ask a bit ago and i couldn't wait to write it. i hope you all enjoy! as per usual, no beta, so if you see any typos no you didnt ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The shop is a warm refuge in the heart of the Autumn Court, its walls painted a calming sage green and lined with shelves filled with jars of dried herbs and roots. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting soft, golden light on a thick, woven rug. The scent of lavender and rosemary lingers in the air, mingling with the quiet crackle of a low fire in the hearth.

You move methodically around the shop, stocking freshly dried herbs on the shelves. Your fingers brush over the labels, ensuring everything is in its place. The rhythmic work is soothing—a welcome distraction.

Reaching up to place a jar on the top shelf, you're caught off guard when the door suddenly slams open. The force of it startles you, and you instinctively drop the pendant of your necklace from your mouth as you spin around to face the intruder.

Eris Vanserra stands in the doorway, his usually pristine appearance disheveled, his skin pale and lips tinged with an unhealthy shade of blue. He looks unwell — like something is gnawing away at him from the inside out.

“Looking a little paler than usual,” you murmur, your tone caught between concern and the dry sarcasm that usually colors your interactions with him. But even as you speak, you’re already moving toward him, instinctively assessing his condition. Grabbing your tools, you hurry to where Eris has collapsed into the armchair by the hearth.

“What happened?” you ask, scanning him for visible injuries but finding none. “When did this start?”

Eris leans back, his breathing labored, and then he coughs violently, a splatter of blood staining his hand. He looks at it with shock and frustration.

“Tell me everything,” you demand, already rifling through your supplies for anything that could help diagnose whatever this is. “What did you eat? Drink? Did you come into contact with anything unusual?”

His eyes narrow in irritation as you continue to probe. “Why does it matter? Just heal me and I’ll be on my way.”

You give him an incredulous look, stunned by the sheer stupidity of his question.

“What…? Mother above- if you want me to help, I need to know what’s causing this. Did you encounter any dark magic?”

You move to check his pulse, frowning at the erratic rhythm and his lack of response. “If you’re going to be like that, just go to your family’s healer,” you mutter, not bothering to hide your irritation. You place the back of your hand on his forehead, noting the strange combination of cool skin and unnatural heat radiating from his chest.

“Do you think I’m here because I’d like to be?” Eris snaps, coughing again, though this time with less blood.

You ignore his tone, turning your attention to the herbs and ingredients at your disposal. After a few minutes of methodically preparing and steeping the herbs, you hand him a steaming cup. “Drink this,” you instruct.

He takes the cup but eyed it skeptically. “What is it?”

“It’ll react if there’s poison in your system,” you explain, your tone firm as you watch him closely, waiting.

He lifts the cup reluctantly, sipping as you hover your hands over his chest, closing your eyes to focus on sensing any magical disturbances. “Why can’t you see your family’s healer?” you ask, murmuring a chant under your breath as you work.

“He’s busy,” Eris replies tightly, though his expression suggests there’s more to the story.

You press your lips together as you complete your chant, waiting for any sign of magic—an aura, a pulse of energy, anything. But there’s nothing. Frustration wells up, and you move to the shelves, selecting a vial of a potent potion that reveals the presence of dark spells. You hand it to him, but before you can tell him to wait, he lifts the vial to his lips.

“Wait—” you start, but it’s too late. He drinks the contents of the vial, grimacing at the taste as he swallows.

The dark tendrils of the potion begin to swirl beneath his skin, their movement barely noticeable through the fabric of his shirt. Panic surges through you, and without thinking, you reach forward and rip open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

Eris recoils slightly, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “Do you have any idea how much that shirt costs? More than you make in a month, I’d wager.”

You shoot him a sharp glare, not bothering to hide your exasperation. “Definitely not as much as making that potion cost me,” you retort, focusing on the dark tendrils now clearly visible beneath his skin. The potion is reacting to something, though it’s still not enough to fully reveal what’s wrong.

Eris glares at you, but before he can respond, another wave of pain hits him, forcing a troubling series of coughs out of him. This time, blood stains his lips, and the dark tendrils pulse ominously with the movement.

Ignoring his earlier complaint, you press your hand against his chest, feeling the unnatural heat beneath your fingertips. The tendrils shift and twist just beneath the surface of his skin as if something dark is trying to break free. “Are you usually this hot?” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, as you watch the tendrils fade back into nothingness.

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk, despite his condition. “I wasn’t aware you found me so irresistible,” he drawls, his tone laced with that familiar cocky arrogance.

You roll your eyes, not even dignifying his comment with a response, refocusing on the task at hand.

With a sigh, you grab the vial from him and set it aside, biting your thumbnail as you wrack your brain for ideas. You decide to turn to a more traditional method. “Stand up,” you instruct, grabbing a fresh egg from a small basket. Eris raises an eyebrow, but you don’t give him a chance to question it. “I’m going to perform an egg cleanse. It’s an old method, but it’s effective for detecting curses.”

He complies, albeit reluctantly, standing from the chair. You glance up at him, realizing you can’t quite reach the top of his head. “Bend your knees a bit. I can’t reach that high.”

Eris smirks, but obliges, lowering himself slightly so you can reach the crown of his head. You begin by holding the egg just above his scalp, moving it slowly around the top of his head and down his neck. You notice his jaw clench, the muscles tightening under your careful movements.

You continue to work your way down, the egg warming slightly in your hand as it absorbs the negative energy. The air feels thick with tension as you move the egg over his shoulders and bare chest, noticing how he tenses when you pass it over his thighs. His body reacts subtly, with a slight shift in posture, a clenching of his fist at his side, as if he’s fighting to keep his composure.

“Anything yet?” Eris presses, his tone light, almost as if he’s making conversation, but you can hear the underlying tension. “Or are you just playing with eggs for fun?”

“Hold still,” you mutter, ignoring his jab as you complete the cleanse. When you reach his feet, you pause, feeling the unsettling energy still clinging to the egg in your hand. You ask him to lift each foot slightly so you can pass the egg underneath. He does so with a small huff of annoyance, muttering something you couldn’t bother yourself to care about.

Finally, you finish the cleanse, bringing the egg back up to his head and closing the circle. The egg feels heavier in your hand now, almost throbbing with the energy it’s absorbed. You step back, holding the egg up to the light, examining it carefully.

“What are you seeing?” he asks, his voice steady, but you catch the edge of something beneath the calm facade. “What’s wrong?”

With a frown, you walk to the counter, grab a glass, and fill it with water. Eris watches you, curiosity and impatience on his face as you crack the egg into the glass.

The moment the shell breaks, your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a physical blow. The web-like structures forming in the egg’s whites, the dark red blood swirling through the yolk—they aren’t just signs of any curse. They’re markers, symbols that reveal the curse’s origin. A curse that dark, that potent, could only come from someone with a deep, intimate connection to the target. Someone who shares his blood.

Eris leans over your shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “That’s not normal, is it?” he asks, his tone still deceptively casual, but you can hear the sharp edge of concern creeping into his voice.

You shake your head slowly, staring at the cursed egg. “No,” you reply, your voice low and tense. “Eris,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as the weight of your discovery settles in. “This… this isn’t just any curse. It was arranged by someone who’s tied to you by blood. They must have paid a witch to curse you.”

His eyes widen, the casual facade slipping as your words sink in. He straightens, stepping back as if physically recoiling from the truth. For a moment, he’s silent, his usually sharp mind racing to process what you’ve just told him. But the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench into fists, betrays the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“One of my brothers,” he murmurs, his voice low and deadly. There’s no question in his tone, only cold, calculated fury. The possibility of betrayal from within his own bloodline cuts deep, and you can see it in the way his expression darkens, in the way his shoulders stiffen as if preparing for battle.

You nod slowly, still staring at the cursed egg, your mind racing as you try to make sense of it all. “Whoever did this didn’t just want to hurt you—the curse is meant to kill, Eris.”

His gaze flickers back to you, and for a brief moment, you see something vulnerable in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. But then it’s gone, replaced by the cold determination that you’ve come to expect from him.

As you stare at the cursed egg’s results, frustration and determination mix in your mind. You need to figure out where the curse is coming from. “Wait here,” you tell him, already moving towards the shelves.

You start rummaging through your collection of enchanted tools and artifacts. You pull out a magnifying glass with runes etched into its frame—designed to detect magical auras. With it, you examine the egg’s remnants, trying to find any additional clues. Still focused, you then grab a small jar of salt, used for creating protective circles, and a vial of basic anti-magic tincture.

You hold the magnifying glass over Eris’s body, carefully examining for any magical disturbances. The glass shows a faint, dark aura around his entire form, but it’s still unclear where the source is. The salt is meant to amplify magical reactions, so you grab the jar and sprinkle some in a protective circle around him. As you observe, the dark aura becomes more pronounced, shifting and swirling. Still, it’s not pinpointed enough to identify the exact source of the curse.

You then use the anti-magic tincture, dabbing it on various parts of him: his hands, shoulders, his ankles, and on his clothing. The tincture reacts, but again, it does not specify where the curse is anchored. You decide to turn to a more direct method.

You remove one of the rings from Eris’s hand, placing it on a small tray before examining it closely with the magnifying glass. The ring is stunning, with a polished tiger’s eye stone that seems to capture and reflect the light with every movement. The stone is set in intricately crafted silver, engraved with delicate, swirling patterns reminiscent of flames. It’s a ring befitting Eris Vanserra—elegant yet undeniably powerful. This time, you notice the dark tendrils of magic intensify around the ring, more clearly than on the other items.

“This ring,” you say, realization dawning as you see the dark magic swirling more intensely, “Have you given it to anyone lately?”

Eris’s brows furrow in confusion. “No, why would I do that? It’s one of my favorites.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms and biting your lip in thought. “Are you sure? Any recent changes, anyone who might have had access to it?”

He hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. “I—well, I didn’t give it to anyone, but…” He sighs, sitting back down and looking down at the ring. “I woke up one morning and found it missing from my jewelry box. I only found it a few days later, yesterday, under the dresser.”

You nod, your mind racing with the implications. “That’s significant. The timing fits with when the curse seems to have taken hold. It’s likely that someone who knew about the ring might have tampered with it.” Eris’s expression darkens, and he clenches his jaw.

You give him a sympathetic look. “Luckily, it seems whoever cast this curse used extremely rudimentary techniques. I should be able to take care of it relatively easily… Go lie down in the back room,” you tell him, pointing at the door behind the front counter. “I’ll be there in a bit with what I need to start the healing process.”

Eris nods and heads to the back room, his demeanor more subdued now. As he disappears behind the door, you turn back to the counter, gathering the rest of your supplies. The task ahead is daunting, but you’re determined to see it through.

As he disappears into the back room, you take a deep breath, centering yourself as you gather the necessary items for the healing process. Your mind is consumed with the details of what you need, and you absentmindedly reach for a pen from the counter, sliding the end of it between your lips as you think through your list—cleansing herbs, protective talismans, and special antidotes to counteract the curse. You pull out a small wooden box and start preparing the mixtures, setting out vials and jars with practiced ease.

You move through the shop, grabbing the fresh batch of herbs and an old family recipe for a purification salve. As you’re about to head to the back room, you pause, realizing you need one more item. You hastily grab a small vial of enchanted water, known for its potency in breaking curses.

With everything in hand, you head towards the back room, your nerves steeling for the task ahead. You open the door and step inside, where Eris is lying on the sofa, looking more subdued and less defiant.

“Alright,” you say, laying out the items on a nearby table. “I need you to strip, so I can massage the salve into your skin.”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his posture relaxed despite his condition. He lounges on the plush sofa, the luxurious fabric seeming to contrast sharply with his unwell state. He is draped elegantly over the cushions, looking effortlessly refined even in his weakened state. “Are you always so forward with your clients?” he asks, a lazy, yet sardonic smile playing on his lips.

You shoot him a wry smile. “Only the ones who show up at my door covered in curses. I promise, I’ll try to keep it as professional as possible.”

Eris arches an eyebrow, glancing down at his torn shirt before meeting your eyes with a smirk. “I’ll be curious to see just how ‘professional’ you manage to be, given the state of my shirt.”

“I suppose my attempt at professionalism might seem a bit questionable after that,” you respond, trying to match his playful tone. “But given the circumstances, I promise to keep my focus on getting you sorted out.”

Eris smirks, clearly entertained by your response. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, making no move to cover up as he removes his shirt. He casually kicks off his boots and slips out of his pants. He starts to remove his underwear, but you quickly hold up a hand, a hint of discomfort in your voice.

“Uh, you can keep those on,” you say, your tone awkward. “I really don’t need to see more of you than I already have.”

Eris raises an eyebrow but complies, lying back on the sofa in his remaining attire. He stretches out, his posture relaxed despite his state.

You try to maintain your composure as you prepare to apply the salve, aware of the subtle flush on your cheeks at the sight of him.

You take the salve and begin applying it to his skin, your hands gliding over the thick, soothing mixture. The salve is warm and slightly sticky, and you work it into his flesh with careful, deliberate strokes. His skin is pale and warm under your touch, marked with faint, livid lines where the curse has taken hold. Despite his condition, his muscles are firm and well-defined.

You try to focus on the task, but the proximity and the intimate nature of your work make your cheeks flush. Your hands move methodically, spreading the salve evenly over his torso, smoothing it into every defined contour. The tension in the room is almost tangible, and you do your best to maintain your composure, concentrating on the rhythm of your movements.

After a few minutes, you glance up at Eris, only to find him watching you with a smirk. You assume he’s noticed your nervousness and it makes your blush deepen, feeling the heat spread across your cheeks.

You hum as if asking “What?”, but it comes out a bit strained.

Eris chuckles softly, the sound low and knowing. “What’s the pendant on your necklace?”

You pause, momentarily distracted by his question. You glance down at the pendant but realize you’ve been toying with it between your teeth. You drop it, a sleek piece of black tourmaline set in a delicate silver setting. It catches the light, its dark, glossy surface reflecting an eerie, protective shimmer. “It’s black tourmaline,” you explain, trying to keep your voice steady as you wipe your hand on the skirt of your dress. “It’s known for protection.”

You reach up and carefully open the locket, revealing a small, intricately illustrated image nestled inside. The illustration depicts you and a scruffy little dog, your faces pressed close together. His warm brown eyes are visible, reflecting the affection between you. The artist’s delicate strokes bring out the softness and warmth of the scene, with a gentle, glowing quality.

“Here,” you say, offering the locket for Eris to see. “That’s my dog, Cedar. He’s my best friend.”

Eris glances at the illustration and raises an eyebrow. “Cute dog,” he remarks, his voice softening slightly. He takes a moment to admire it before you close the locket and turn your attention back to the task at hand.

You resume applying the salve, your hands moving carefully over his thighs. Your proximity is close, and you can’t help but be aware of the intimate nature of the task.

Eris breaks the silence, his tone is casual yet curious. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a dog person. What’s he like?”

You continue working the salve into his skin, your hands deftly spreading it. “Cedar? He’s a little bundle of energy. Loves to play and is always up for an adventure. Not very fond of arrogant redheads.”

Eris chuckles softly. “Sounds like quite a character. I’ve got a few ghost hounds myself. Jasper’s the mischievous one, Ember’s more reserved but loyal, and Thorne... well, he’s a bit of a troublemaker. They each have their own quirks, but they’re a handful.” He smiles faintly, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

You nod, trying to focus on the salve while managing the awkward proximity. “Sounds like they’re quite a pack.”

Eris’s eyes twinkle with a mixture of amusement and affection as he regards you. “They are. All twelve of them.”

You clear your throat, doing your best to shake off the distraction of Eris’s body under your hands. “Twelve? That’s… quite a lot,” you manage to say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how flustered you are.

Eris gives a small, almost smug nod. “They’re quite the company.”

You force a small smile, quickly refocusing on the task at hand before your scent gives you away. “Alright, I need you to flip over so I can get your back,” you instruct, your voice steadier now.

Eris moves with a grace that belies the curse’s toll, turning onto his stomach. As he settles, you catch yourself marveling at the expanse of his back, the way his muscles shift beneath his skin. You work the salve into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward. Your fingers glide over the planes of his back, kneading the thick mixture into his skin with slow, deliberate motions.

When you reach his lower back, you can’t help but notice how firm and tight his muscles are. You swallow hard, trying to focus on the task and not on how ridiculously sculpted he is. This close, his scent—woodsy and warm, with a hint of spice—mixes with the herbs of the salve, creating an intoxicating blend that makes your heart race.

With the salve fully applied, you stand and step back, wiping your hands on a cloth. You retrieve the small vial of enchanted water from your supplies. The liquid inside shimmers faintly, a sign of its potency.

You kneel beside Eris and unstopper the vial, letting a few drops spill into your palm. “This will help neutralize any residual dark magic,” you explain, mostly to fill the silence as you pour the water into your hands. It’s cool to the touch, sending a slight tingle through your fingers.

Gently, you begin to rub the enchanted water into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward again. You feel a faint warmth where the water touches his skin, a sign that the curse is reacting to the cleansing magic. You mutter a soft incantation under your breath as you work, tracing the lines of his muscles with your fingertips to ensure the water reaches every part of him.

Eris lies still beneath you, but you can sense his awareness of your every move. The tension between you is palpable, like a coiled spring waiting to snap. But you focus on your work, pushing aside the awkwardness.

You clear your throat softly. “Flip back over. I need to do your front.”

Eris obliges, rolling onto his back again. As you begin to apply the enchanted water to his chest, your hands instinctively move in slow, deliberate circles. The cool liquid glides over the hard planes of his abs and pecs, and you find yourself distracted by the feel of his muscles beneath your fingertips. His skin is smooth, marred only by the faint, dark lines of the curse, but the tautness of his body is impossible to ignore.

Your thoughts begin to wander, unbidden. The definition of his abs under your touch, the way his chest rises and falls steadily with each breath, the heat radiating from him despite the coolness of the water—all of it feels too intimate, too close. You lose yourself in the rhythm of the massage, each movement deliberate, but tinged with an awareness you wish you could ignore.

When you finally finish applying the water, you take a step back and wipe your hands again. “That should do it,” you say, though your voice comes out softer than you intended. “Now we just need to give it time to work.”

Eris slowly sits up, his movements careful and deliberate. He glances at you, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softens. "Thank you," he says quietly, the words carrying a weight that surprises you.

You nod, unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Just... make sure you rest. The curse should start breaking down now, but you'll need time to recover-"

Eris cuts you off, his tone turning teasing as he leans forward. "You always seem to be keeping that mouth of yours busy, don't you?"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden comment. "Excuse me?"

His gaze drops pointedly to your hand, and it's only then that you realize your thumbnail is between your teeth. You quickly pull it away, trying to mask your embarrassment with a frown. "I wasn't-"

"Oh, you were," he interrupts, the smirk playing on his lips growing. "First your necklace, now your nails. And don't think I didn't notice you biting your lip earlier. Tell me, is this a nervous habit or something else?"

You huff, the irritation building slowly. "It's nothing. Just a habit, alright?"

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he's dissecting your every move. "A habit, hmm? Interesting."

You roll your eyes, exasperation creeping into your tone. "Look, it's really none of your business. I just did you a favor, saving your life; can't you drop the smart remarks for once?"

Eris's smirk doesn't waver. "A favor? Let's not pretend you didn't enjoy getting your hands all over me," he says, his voice dripping with mockery. "You were practically drooling over me."

Your face burns, and you take a step forward, anger and embarrassment now battling for dominance. "I was doing my job, Eris. If I took any extra care, it was because I had to-your life was in my hands, not because I wanted to."

He arches an eyebrow, clearly amused by your rising frustration. "So you admit you were being thorough."

You let out a frustrated breath, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're insufferable, you know that? Not everything is about you."

His voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. “If it’s just a job, then why do you look like you’ve been caught red-handed?”

Your eyes widen at his insinuation, and you struggle to find a retort, feeling both flustered and infuriated by his smugness.

Your heart skips a beat at the intensity in his gaze, the raw challenge in his words. "What does it matter to you?" you snap back, though your voice falters, the heat of the moment starting to overwhelm you. "You're just trying to get under my skin."

Eris's gaze flickers to your lips, and you feel the air between you grow heavy, charged with an undeniable tension. "Maybe I am," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Or maybe I'm just waiting for you to admit you want this as much as I do."

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you, the magnetic pull between you impossible to ignore. You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure despite the heat in your cheeks. "You don't really want this," you retort, your voice coming out more uncertain than you intended.

Eris's smirk widens, and he stands impossibly close to you, his eyes dark with intensity. "Oh, but I do."

You meet his gaze, feeling a surge of defiance and desire. "Prove it," you challenge, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eris responds to your challenge with a fierce intensity. He closes the space between you with a sudden, forceful kiss that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, and the kiss is a wild, heated clash of desire and frustration.

Your lips meet with a ferocity that makes your head spin, his hands gripping your face as if he's afraid you might pull away. His mouth moves against yours with a demanding urgency, his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with yours. The kiss is rough, almost desperate, as if he's trying to prove something with every touch.

You feel his teeth nip at your lower lip, sharp and insistent, and the sudden spark of pain only intensifies the heat between you. Your hands find their way to his hair, gripping it tightly and pulling him closer if possible, as if trying to merge your bodies together.

Eris's fingers tangle in your hair, his grip firm as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. His movements are driven by a raw, unrestrained need, and you can feel his breath come in ragged gasps against your skin. Each touch, each movement is a battle, a clash of passion and frustration.

You respond in kind, your own fingers digging into his scalp, your nails scratching lightly as you try to keep up with the fierce pace he sets. The kiss is a war of wills, a struggle for dominance that leaves you both breathless and hungry for more.

Finally, the intensity of the kiss subsides, but only slightly. You pull away just enough to look into each other's eyes, both of you panting heavily, faces flushed. The moment is charged with an electric tension, a mix of anger and desire that hangs in the air between you.

Eris's eyes are dark and intense as he stares at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that proof enough?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

Your lips slam into his again, and you press your body against his with a forceful urgency, your hands roaming over his bare torso. Eris’s initial surprise quickly turns into fervor. His hands move over your back and sides, his touch rough but deliberate. His fingers brush along the fabric of your dress, tugging it slightly as he pulls you closer. His hands glide over your waist, up your sides, and finally settle at the small of your back, pulling you so close that there’s no space left between your bodies. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his smooth skin, and you can’t help but dig your nails in slightly, relishing the shudder that ripples through him.

“You’re such a pain,” you murmur against his lips, your voice breathy but laced with irritation. “Always so arrogant, thinking everyone wants you.”

Eris’s response is a low growl, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he pulls back just enough to look at you. “And yet here you were, begging me to strip under the guise of helping me. I guess my arrogance isn’t so misplaced after all.”

Your retort is immediate, biting. “Guise? I did help you, don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you—it’s about shutting you up.” You punctuate your words by biting down on his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure.

He chuckles, the sound low and mocking. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? That this is just about shutting me up?” His grip on your hips tightens, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night. But we both know you’re enjoying this.”

You shove him back slightly, just enough to regain some space, your chest heaving with both desire and defiance. “You’re delusional. If anything, I’m doing this to prove you wrong.” But even as you say it, your hands are already trailing lower, brushing over the hard lines of his abdomen, testing his resolve.

Eris’s smirk never falters. “Keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice thick with lust and challenge. “But we both know the truth—you can’t resist me any more than I can resist you.”

“Resist?” You scoff, though your voice wavers with the intensity of the moment. “Who said anything about resisting? Maybe I’m just enjoying the moment before I throw you out.”

His eyes darken further, a primal edge sharpening his features. “You talk a big game, but I can feel how much you’re into this.” His hand slides up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress’s long skirt aside with forceful impatience. “Or do you want me to stop and see if you beg?”

You meet his challenge head-on, your eyes blazing. “Beg? I’d rather die.”

He grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light as his hand continues its relentless exploration. “We’ll see.”

With that, he kisses you again, the force of it pushing you both back until you’re pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that makes your head spin. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling hard, and he groans into your mouth, his own grip on you tightening as the need between you becomes impossible to ignore.

"You're insufferable," you hiss, though your fingers are still digging into his skin, still trailing over the hard lines of his chest.

Eris’s mouth swallows your frustrated words. “Then shut me up,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with challenge.

You take the bait, pulling him closer as you bite down on his lip again, harder this time, drawing a low groan from him. His hands slip under your dress, the roughness of his touch sending a shiver up your spine. “That all you’ve got?” he taunts, his voice ragged.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes locked with his in a heated stare. “I can do a lot more than that,” you shoot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

“Prove it,” he snarls, his hands tightening on your hips as if daring you to push the boundaries further.

Your gaze never wavers from his as you slowly begin to sink to your knees in front of him. Eris's breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening with a mix of surprise and something else, something far more primal.

“Careful,” he warns, though there’s a rough edge to his voice that betrays his anticipation. “You might find yourself in over your head.”

You smirk, defiant as ever. “I’m sure I can handle you,” you say, your voice low and challenging as you settle in front of him, pulling his underwear down and freeing his cock. It springs up, slapping against his skin. Eris's breath catches again, this time more audibly, as your fingers wrap around him, the warmth of your touch eliciting a shudder from him. For a moment, the air between you is charged, thick with tension. His fiery gaze locks onto yours, his usual cool demeanor cracking just enough to reveal the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

“Is that so?” His voice is a rasp, heavy with lust, yet there's still a trace of his usual arrogance, as if he’s not entirely convinced you know what you’re getting into. His hand slides into your hair, not quite a caress but not entirely a threat either.

You look up at him through your lashes, your smirk never fading as you lean in, the tip of your tongue teasing the sensitive head of his cock. Eris's grip tightens involuntarily, and you feel a surge of satisfaction at the way his control is already starting to slip.

“Keep pushing me, and I won’t be able to stop myself,” he growls. But you don’t intend to stop. You want to see him unravel, to take him apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left of his carefully constructed composure. Your mouth closes around him, taking him deeper, your movements slow, savoring the way he swears under his breath, his hips jerking slightly as if he can’t help but respond to the pleasure you’re giving him.

“Fuck,” he mutters and braces his hand against the wall as you cup his balls. The last of his restraint frays as you take him deeper, the heat of your mouth and the slick glide of your tongue driving him mad with pleasure.

His dominance, his ever-present need to be in control, is slipping through his fingers, and you can see it in the way his eyes flutter shut, in the way his head tips back, exposing the strong line of his throat. You’re pushing him closer and closer to the brink, and the power you feel at this moment is intoxicating, heady, and utterly addictive.

His hand tightens in your hair, and just as you feel like you’ve taken control, he pulls you back with a sudden, forceful yank. The motion is swift, leaving you gasping as he tilts your head up, pressing it back against the wall. His eyes, dark and wild, lock onto yours, and you can see the moment he decides to take the power back.

Without a word, he thrusts forward, his cock pushing past your lips in a smooth, deliberate motion, filling your mouth completely. The sensation is overwhelming—the taste of him, the pressure, the way his hips move with a raw, unrestrained need. He’s no longer holding back, no longer letting you lead.

His hand in your hair tightens even more, holding you firmly in place as he begins to fuck your mouth, each thrust rougher, more demanding than the last. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s fighting to maintain some semblance of control, but it’s slipping fast, and you know you’re the one driving him to this point.

“Is this what you needed?” he growls, his voice rough with the thrill of dominance. “Always biting your nails, playing with that necklace... I knew you needed something more to keep that mouth of yours busy.”

His words send a jolt of heat through you, the dark thrill only intensifying your desire. You try to nod, but his grip holds you in place, his cock filling your mouth completely, muffling any response you could give. The way he’s watching you, eyes narrowed, intense, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Tell me,” he demands, thrusting deeper, his voice low and laced with a dark satisfaction. “You like this better, don’t you? Better than biting down on that lip of yours? You’d rather be sucking my cock, wouldn’t you?”

The words, the sheer audacity of his tone, make you whimper around him, the sound vibrating through your throat, and his grip tightens almost possessively in response. His thrusts become more erratic, each one pushing you closer to the edge, the friction, the heat building between you until it’s all-consuming.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of mockery and admiration. “So desperate to keep your mouth busy. Is this what you’ve been wanting all along? Something to fill that pretty little mouth, something to keep you from biting down so hard?”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, and the way he shudders makes you feel a surge of satisfaction. You’re pushing him right to the edge, and he knows it, the way his hips snap forward betraying how close he is to losing control entirely.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “You feel so fucking good—taking me so well. Just like that. Keep going, and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about looking for something to occupy that pretty little mouth with ever again.”

His words send you spiraling, your own desire mounting as you submit to his dominance. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, the desperation in his movements telling you just how close he is to unraveling completely. His grip on your hair is almost punishing, but the way he’s losing himself in you is worth every second of it.

“Do you like this?” he taunts, his voice low and rough. “Better than anything else you’ve ever had between those lips?”

And just as you sense he’s about to tip over the edge, he pulls back, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and lust as he tries to regain control. But it’s too late—he’s already there, the pleasure too overwhelming to stop. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps his hand around his slick cock as he strokes himself to completion.

His hips jerk as he comes, hot and thick, painting your lips and tongue with his release. The taste of him floods your senses, salty and rich, and you can’t help but savor it, holding his gaze as you swallow every last drop. The look on his face is pure, unrestrained satisfaction, but there’s still that edge of frustration, like he’s not quite finished with you yet.

Before you can react, he hauls you to your feet, his grip firm, almost possessive. His eyes never leave yours as he reaches out, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth, gathering the last traces of his release. The movement is deliberate, his expression dark and unreadable as he holds his thumb in front of your lips.

“Open,” he commands, his voice rough, and without hesitation, you part your lips, sucking his thumb clean. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, and the way his eyes darken tells you he’s watching every second, every subtle movement.

His thumb slides free from your mouth, and for a moment, there’s a heavy silence between you, charged with the aftermath of what just happened and the unspoken promise of what’s to come next. Eris’s chest heaves with each breath, but the hunger in his eyes hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it’s only grown stronger, the intensity between you far from spent.

Eris’s hands find the laces on the back of your dress, his fingers deft as he begins to undo them, each tug of the fabric sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. His breath is still heavy, uneven, but there's a renewed focus in his movements, a meticulousness that makes your pulse quicken. The dress loosens gradually, the cool air hitting your skin as he exposes more and more of you, and the sensation of his fingers grazing your back is maddening.

You can take in the sight of him now—bare, unrestrained, his usual elegance stripped away—it sends a jolt of desire through you. But before you can revel in it, his hands are on you again, rougher this time, pulling the dress down your body until it pools at your feet.

His eyes drink you in, taking in every inch of your now-exposed skin, and the way he looks at you makes your breath hitch. There’s something almost reverent in his gaze, but it’s laced with a hunger that promises he’s far from done with you. He steps closer, and the heat radiating off him is palpable, his chest brushing against yours as he reaches down between your bodies, his hand yanking your underwear down and finding its way to your core.

Your hand slips between you, stroking him, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His fingers slide against you, a delicious friction that makes you gasp, your grip on him tightening reflexively in response. His eyes are half-lidded as he reaches behind you to undo the clasps of your bra, focused entirely on the way your body responds to him, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s a reminder that despite the edge you’d gained, he’s still every bit as dangerous, every bit as intoxicating.

With a growl, Eris suddenly lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he presses you back against the wall. The cool surface contrasts sharply with the heat of his body, and the sensation is almost overwhelming, his hard length brushing against your inner thigh, teasing, tormenting. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the barely restrained need as he grinds against you, his hand still between your legs, stoking the fire that’s been burning between you both from the start.

And then, with a swift, powerful thrust, he’s inside you, and everything else falls away—the tension, the teasing, the power struggle—until all that’s left is the raw, unrelenting desire that neither of you can deny any longer. He’s relentless, driving into you with a raw, primal need that matches your own, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slide of him inside you, fills the room, mingling with the ragged breaths and low moans you can’t suppress.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bites down just hard enough to make you gasp, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a way that only intensifies the sensation. His voice is rough, laced with a dark satisfaction as if he’s finally giving you what you’ve been daring him to unleash. “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” you snap back, but your voice comes out breathless, betraying how much you’re already unraveling. His words send a thrill through you, the taunting, the edge of danger in his tone only making you want him more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks on his skin as you try to meet his thrusts, the pressure building inside you almost unbearable.

He smirks against your throat, his breath hot and uneven. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your pulse point before he bites down again, harder this time. “You want me to break you, don’t you?”

Your hands fist in his hair, yanking his head back so you can meet his gaze, the defiance in your eyes only fueling the fire between you. “Shut up,” you hiss, your voice trembling with the force of your impending release.

A dark chuckle escapes him, and he slams into you harder, the movement sending you both crashing further into the abyss of sensation. Each thrust drives you higher, the pressure in your core building, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces. His movements are wild, erratic, and yet there’s a precision to them, a calculated determination to make you lose control before he does. But you’re not about to give in easily, not when the taste of victory is so close.

“Faster,” you demand, your voice edged with desperation, and the way his eyes flash with something primal tells you he’s just as close to the edge as you are.

He obliges, his pace becoming almost brutal as he pounds into you, the sound of your name falling from his lips like a curse, like a prayer. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “I’m going to ruin you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to,” you manage to choke out, but the words are barely coherent, your mind a haze of pleasure as he drives you closer and closer to oblivion.

And then he reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send you spiraling. The sudden, overwhelming sensation makes you cry out, your body arching against him as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in bliss.

Eris isn’t far behind, the feeling of you tightening around him pushing him over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you, his own release ripping through him with a ferocity that leaves him shaking, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finds his own release, the tension that’s been coiled so tightly between you finally snapping.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room is ragged breathing as you both come down from the high. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, the war between you seems to fade, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection that this moment has forged.

But it’s only a moment.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” you murmur, your voice still breathless but laced with that familiar defiance.

Eris chuckles softly, the sound a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, though there’s a softness to his voice that wasn’t there before, a hint of something more beneath the layers of antagonism.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris vanserra smut #acotar smut #acotar #acotar fanfic

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petalsonmoon · 20 hours ago

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breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.

you're falling in love.

(i'd just like to say that in this scenario i imagined UA as an university so they're a bit older... thank you for reading <3)

you had no one to blame but yourself. you read too much and you never know when to stop. but really, how can you go to sleep when the found family are about to perform the heist?

so when school was back things got complicated. your brain had its own routine by now so when you were laying in bed and the moonlight was trying to get in through the curtains it felt like you just drank 3 bottles of coffee.

your celling was making your mind combust this is why you got up and decided to take a little walk. you left your dorm and went for the stairs, feet light as the moonlight touching the walls. maybe you should buy a sleeping mask. or try meditation. new year new habits.

when you arrived at the communal space you were trying not to let the frustation win the fight against your empathetic consciousness. one side of your head was screaming that the begining of a school year should be centered, organized and fierced and an insomnia on your first day is not a great start. the other part was giving you a gentle pat on your head saying that life doesn't end when you graduate and you just have to take one day at a time.

you find yourself walking very slowly towards the kitchen and sitting on your usual stool. the third one from right to left. the whole place was beautifully iluminated by the moon. isn't sad that the moonlight is actually an reflection of the light that hits them? must be isolating.

there was a mini jar on the counter filled with m&m's. you slided it close to you and started to eat the yellow ones.

it was 5:28am acording to the microwave. m&m's were a great breakfast.

but the moon itself was pretty once iluminated by the others.... so it must feel pretty, right? seen? especially if it knows us, humans are captivated by its brutal and elegant greyness,

"the fuck is this?"

you jump. like cartoon jump.

and he didn't even scream he merely whipered. a rasp and crude whisper but a hushed tone nonetheless.

"holy jesus bakugo-" you whisper back with your hand on your chest trying calm it.

"what are you doing?" his interrupition as strong as he is.

"you scared the shit out of me." you complete. sort of ignoring his question.

he stayed still a few feet away burning you with his red eyes. his natural rage and powerful aura filling up the space.

"morning." you say. not in a good mood to smile but with enough chocolate in your system to sound gentle.

his eyes were on you for 5 seconds (5 minutes in your head) before he growled and moved, walking around the counter, turning one single light of the relatively big kitchen and started to get everything to prepare his healthy breakfast.

since first year, bakugo grew gracefully for those who noticed. although he changed he'd still murder you with an m&m if you said that out loud. you're definitely not that close to the boy but you were one of those who got enchanted by a determination so big and fierce someone could get blinded by it.

just like you were constantly astonished by momo's bright and calculated mind or todoroki's immense gentleness after a life that lacked warmness, you spent those 3 years seeing bakugo as an inspiration.

although his whole group of friends had a confidence you wished you had. they intimidated you. hagakure says it's you being stupid.

you watch as the boy moves fast and domestically calm through the gabinets, knowing exactly what he needs and wants.

with his large back facing you he started chopping and boiling and cooking. all the yellow m&m's had ended by the time one of you said a word.

"why are you up?"

raspy and soft. but you were not expecting him acknowledging you at all.

"hm..." your eyes focused on his back. "insomnia. vacation consequences."

you hear a distant grunt.

"so you came here to eat chocolate?" he kept preparing his dish in an annoyingly organized way.

"well, if my body is not feeling like being healthy might as well join his thinking."

"great thinking." he concludes and it's not even lacying with sarcasm. just full judgement.

it takes a few seconds for you to toughen up and keep talking.

"any tips?"

with that he turns and looks at you for a few seconds. you hold his gaze.

he only answers when he's back at glaring at the vegetables. "just fucking sleep."

it's so blunt it cracks a chuckle out of you. you betray yourself and take a single red m&m to your mouth.

"you ever slept in?"

"no." he rumbles.

"not even like, 5 minutes?"

"no."

"that's crazy..." you whisper to yourself.

"that's discipline." he defends not whispering back.

"yes, it absolutely is." you sounded silly but that was not the intention. "once me and tokoyami tried to make a schedule and wake up at 5 to train together"

it was fun trying to be healthy doing team work. you remember him telling you that dark shadow was also excited to practice outdoors since it was going to be dark still the time you agreed. "we only did it for a week."

you see him shake his head and murmur something you took 3 seconds to decode. "more than what i was expecting"

"okay!" you protest softly. "not all of us wants to be the best there is"

"and that means i can't judge you for being stupid?"

he blunts it out. as you said, bakugo was stil an angry, angry person but with patience and respect on the edges now. if you look closely.

"and some of us are not that competitive... like, really not. ever played uno with me?"

you hear him taking a deep breath. you don't know if that's an "yes" a "no" or a "i dare you to keep talking"

so you keep talking. "and i tried, doesn't that count?"

"it doesn't if you don't even do the bare damn minimum" his voice still raspy and very dure but the sleepiness not there anymore "not sleeping fries your brain." he resolutes.

"but this brain is also the reason i have anxiety so i'm just paying it back."

he finally turns to you with those immaculate sharp red eyes and points at you with the knife he was holding. "stupid."

"no, fairness." you smile and point a red m&m at him.

you held his gaze until he turned again. but then he finished part of whatever he was doing and drops the knife, washes his hands and turns to you again.

now you're getting goosebumps because he's walking towards you.

"you should've given me tips to sleep if you didn't want me annoying you at 5 in the morning" you defend yourself of something. you're really grateful for the courage the dawn gives people.

"is this gonna be a recurring thing?" he whisper. he stops in front of you, a counter between you both.

"don't know. it might be."

your hand was going to another red m&m when he stopped it. "stop eating this shit."

"then do you mind giving me cooking tips as well?"

his eyebrows furrows and he takes another deep breath letting go of your wrist. the counter was not that big. he was too close. "just focus on your breathing and it'll help you relax. even if you're not sleepy breathing techniques do help."

oh!

he did try to help you and that was sweet and you couldn't help but smile. "thank you."

he quickly turned around and went back to the stove grunting in response "don't need you yapping my ears off at the one time i have peace in this place."

with that you got up from the stool and went to your dorm feeling lightheaded.

── ☆ ──

after that there was no reason not to take deep breaths and count before sleeping. of course the problem was not fixed but it actually helped! there was some nights where your brain could not for his own health turn off the lights and it took you couting till 50 to relax but overall. you were sleeping at least 6 hours straight so a win is a win.

your relationship with bakugo evolved from not talking at all to you saying hi to him and him grunting in return. the universe decided to be kind to you by pairing you two a few times to spare during some of aizawa's classes and it was so unhealthy how you felt happy and annoyingly you with him.

so some nights you did had to trick yourself into not think about bakugo. to not think about how domestically warm and confortable it would be to cook with the boy if you were a little bit more than friends.

and then you blink three times remembering you were at best his colleague and you shouldn't be thinking this just because of an exchange of 30 minutes and a few swift but blazing conversations.

but it's a reasonable crush if we analyze the bigger picture.

you're not one with much confidence, and even though you're not one with many romantic experience too it's an understandable situation having a bloom of emotions when you finally have nice exchanges with the person you admire the most in class.

right?

four weeks later, saturday happened.

you've been doing good in training and even your studing sessons were making you proud so you decided to give yourself a deserving movie night.

things were great when you watched a movie and then another one but you decided you wanted a sweet popcorn to accompany you with the third one. and that went terribly wrong.

which is where you are now, looking at whatever annomaly you were swiping in the frying pan.

"of course you're involved with that god awful smell." he grunts from a few meters behind you and you're not sure how you didn't hit his head with how far you jolted.

"fucking hell bakugo!" you turn to him and it's noticible he’s trying to hold the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. don’t look that way. "how does an angry bird like you have such a light feet?"

"by not wanting to wake the losers" he concludes coming closer to you to discover what was happening at the crime scene.

oh! he smells good.

at 5am? criminal. cinnamon but with a touch of sandalwood. you truly wanted him to give you a prolonged hug.

"you are a fucking dimwit." he grimaced.

"i'm not great with new recipes!" you didn't have a single argument this time.

"ruin popcorn it's a new level." he walked towards the trash and opened. it's kind of a superpower that his expression alone could criticize so many aspects of a person.

you defeatedly walked to him with the pan in hands and threw its content in the trash.

"hopeless." he whispered as he took the object from you and walked to the sink.

you pout and make way to sit in your stool by the counter.

"i make a neat rice." you whisper back.

he immeditaly let out a chuckle. "i bet."

why were you still here was a question you'd burned with the imaginary popcorn. so it took you while to say anything,

"i remember in second year," really nice of them to keep replacing the m&m's in the jar. it was a good distraction look for the yellow ones. "when we were celebrating jiro's birthday and everybody was outside, i was going back inside to refil my water cup when i heard kaminari's voice desperately apologizing-"

a loud noice startled you. it sounded like a pot hitting the sink. you're not to make assumptions but it felt like he knew where you were going.

so you kept talking. "and suddendly you barked at him to shup up-"

"i didn't fucking bark-" he interrupted snarling. oh he was so sweet.

"-turns out he accidentally ruined a small part of her cake and you fixed it in record time. and didn't even eat it. i'm quite sure you went to bed after the happy birthday" you interrupted his interruption.

it was a quiet night so by the sounds you could identify that he started to do whatever he was doing a bit more angryly.

"cakes are stupid." he rumbles.

"they are important on birthdays."

"fucking dunce face can't keep his mouth shut-" him angrily replying with his back to you was a bit comical.

"in his defense" in the counter, you make a heart with the yellow m&m's you haven't eaten yet. "i traded this information giving him my piece of the cake that day."

you glace up and he was still treating the food with rage. "because surprisingly i'm not a big fan of cakes."

"weird coming from someone with the most crappy eating habits."

"i know, right?" you answer and he doesn’t respond. you fill the little heart with the red m&m's.

you take a deep breath.

"it was nice of you" you look up. "the number one spot is in safe hands."

he stilled. for about 7 seconds.

then he started to move again. calmly. you start to eat the yellow m&m's and after a while of him preparing his perfect little breakfast he speaks again.

"you being a sting in my ass since last year and telling me proudly." he says, his voice a bit more deep and cemented.

"yes, i like to think i'm a nice little bee." you admit.

"HA!" his rough laugh invaded the room.

"they're pretty and united and very important-"

"will you include the part they make honey and you can"t cook for shit?"

"it's a team work!" you defend. "don't you think that when a bee has problems with her honey, another one doesn't come to help?"

now you try to hold your laughter from your own statement.

"that's just pathetic." he answers.

"you're just not a bee." you resolve. you start to eat the red m&m's left. "you're more like a lone wasp. they're big and quite prett-"

your discourse is interrupted when a small bowl is strongly put in front of you spreading the red dots.

"hey!" you're about to protest when its contents finally loads in your brain.

it's popcorn.

with chocolate.

you feel the little bees in your stomach make a mess. a pure and chaotically comforting emotion fill your heart and there is no going back now. how can a furious boy make you breathe so peacefully?

when you finally come back to the moment and look up he immediately turns around and goes back to the stove.

"bakugo-"

"no." his tone heavy and definitive.

you take a deep breath and try to relax. not fighting the small smile in your face anymore.

"bakugo." your tone soft but as decisive as his.

he fights for a second but turns to you with a locked jaw. his eyes the sharpest you've ever seen, giving you nothing to unravel before going to sleep.

"thank you." and with that you leave the kitchen.

── ☆ ──

the following week you felt like suffocating but also very fucking joyful.

nothing prominent changes in your rotine. you're still dedicated to have a good sleeping pattern and things with you and bakugo haven't changed. and you weren't expecting them to.

but you needed saturday to come.

you were going to be there on purpose this time. and you were fiercily holding the ballon of insecurities screaming that you were too in clouds of your emotions to not think your decision carefully.

so it's 5:37 when you're getting closer to the kitchen, the familiar hiss and chopping of the food capturing the place making you shiver for some reason.

a well known reason but whatever.

you gently pull your usual stool to sit on it and your eyes lock to his figure, who froze for a millisecond when you made the sound.

your hand automatically made way to the mini jar that lived in the counter only to find nothing there.

you whip around to glare at him.

"who did you threatened to blow to get my m&m's removed?"

he took his time finishing whatever he was doing and turned to you very slowly. to have his attention on you once again sent intense shivers all over your body.

"why am i involved?" he soflty replies and you think you like his voice a little too much.

"you're always involved."

"always?"

"yep." you nod.

he leans his body back on the sink putting his hands on his pockets. boy, it's really fucking unffair to be heavenly beautiful like this.

you pout. "i just want my yellow m&m's back."

and then. and then

he measures your face before taking his right hand out of his pocked, setting a yellow m&m on his tongue and closing his mouth.

"come get it." he replies nonchantly.

your body suddenly feels solid and your blood it's cathing on fire. there is no way this scene wasn’t a creation of your most desired dream that was buried deep in your consciousness.

"well?" he arches one eyebrow and you blink. twice.

you decide in a millisecond to fight fire with fire. you're not a confident person but you could pretend to be.

you get off the stool and walk around the counter, only to sit on it placing yourself not far from him. you feel his eyes piercing you until yours met his.

"someone told me once i don’t even do the bare minimum…" you motioned to the empty space where the jar used to be “why would i go there if it can come to me?”

you hold his gaze while he took four steps to arrive and place himself between your legs.

he’s fixated on your mouth while you decide your favorite color is the color of his hair.

his slight smirk felt like an illusion when he breathes in your mouth “you little minx.”

then his mouth was against yours.

his hand found the back of your head making he deepen the kiss deliciously firme. a kiss as intense and imposing and skilled as the boy.

your hands made their way to his hair and it felt like a fervent dream when his own hands were now behind your thighs pulling you illogically close to him. his tongue ardent against yours making your whole body melt in his and when you scrap where his hair meets his neck his throat makes a guttural noise. you wanted to overflow in him.

when you pulled apart you’re a bit dizzy.

“you taste like chocolate.” you blur out.

placing his hands on your jaw he touches featherly your mouth with his tumb.

“why don’t you let me find out what you taste like, brat?”

#english is not my first language i deeply apologize #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #bnha katsuki bakugo #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x y/n #bnha #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #mha #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia

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nichromepackaging · 2 years ago

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ja3hwa · 1 month ago

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♡ 𝐀 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐆𝐢 ♡

Day Twenty One - Sex pollen

【Synopsis】 : It's just one quick to your home planet. It's just one dangerous plant for collection. Nothing can go wrong, right... right?

『Word count』 : 4.16k

-> Genre: Smut. Sci-fi. Alien Au.

Pairing: Human!JongGi x Alien!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Dirty talk. Clumsy Mingi. Friends who wanna fuck? Kissing. Double penetration. Multiple orgasms. Fingering. Spanking. Unprotected sex. Dub-con (cause you... exotic sex potent plant). Pet names. Both boys are well off, hehe. Some sappy moments with a light sprinkle of angst.

Network: @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

Note: Thank you again, my baby, @skteezcursed for the brainstorming. Hehe. You helped me so much with so many days, I swear to god. Idk how to repay you. ♡ i love you so much.

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You stared out the viewport of the cargo ship as it travelled at speed unimaginable through the cosmos. The familiar colours and stars of your galaxy were in the shimmering distance. That's when you spotted your home, Xyphor, excitement bubbling in your gut as you quickly looked over to the men beside you. Jongo and Mingi, two of your closest friends, by your side to see your home for the first time.

Your mission was simple: pick up one of the rarest plants that is native to Xyphor and deliver it to the research facility in the other star system. The base where you and your team are located. You sighed at the thought. It wasn’t just any plant, and this mission had to be performed delicately. You were starting to doubt Captain Hongjoongs choice to give you Mingi. But alas, you did need the muscle, so maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

Looking over the papers on the desk beside you. You took in the sketches you had done of the plant. The Blumina blossom is known for its vibrant colours and unique properties. It was said to bloom once every three decades and had the most potent pollen in the surrounding galaxies—a fact you were all too familiar with having studied the flora and fauna on your plant since you were young.

"You ready for this?" Jongho's voice scared you for a moment, making you jump from your thoughts. You watched as he tightened the straps on his gloves.

"Of course." You smiled, your tone lacing with excitement, as you checked your equipment once more on your belt, trying to find something to fiddle with to calm your nerves. “How could we say no to a trip to my home planet?”

“It'll be like a walk in the park!” Mingi added, a little bit too carefree as he hoisted the cargo containment canisters, airtight glass vessels designed to hold the Blumina Blossom securely.

You felt a momentary pang of worry surge through your body. “Just be careful with that, Mingi. It’s very fragile.” Your hands instantly come up as if to help the tall man. Jongho just laughed, heading back over to the cockpit to turn the autopilot off so he could land the ship on at the station fill-up stop.

Mingi waved you off, a tremendously confident grin plastered across his face as if he wouldn't take his eyes off you. “Pfft! Don’t worry about me., Dollface” He gingerly walked toward the cargo bay, which was filled with a mix of excitement and tension. Mingi was known to tease you with his clumsiness, throwing stuff around carelessly just to see your shocked reaction. But he always managed to still break something by the end of it, so you could see why your worries were always so high, and your expectations ran low.

"I'll always worry about you..." You groaned lightly while pinching the bridge of your nose before heading over to the cockpit so you could take your navigator's seat next to Jongho. The landing was smooth, just like Jongho's lands in the previous times you've rode with him. And the moment you all arrived on Xyphor, the beauty of the planet struck in your hearts like seeing a new colour for the first time. Oh, how you've missed it. Stepping out of the ship, you take in the vibrant landscapes. The endless hills and forestry were nothing but mesmerising. However, your focus was quick to shift back onto the assignment. Pushing both men towards the exotic greenhouse, where the Blumina Blossom could finally be found. Already trimmed and ready for departure, among a few other non-toxic plant life that was also being exported.

“Here it is!” You pointed, your voice filled with enthusiasm as you approached the display of beautiful flowers, spotting the small hypnotising purple-leafed flower in the centre. Turning your back to it you open the menu log on the tablet that sat on the table beside the display case, examining the instructions for safely extracting. That was when you noticed Mingi stepping a little too close for your comfort, his nose just barely brushing the thin glass cabinet, eyes widening with curiosity.

“Just a second, Mingi!” You exclaimed, but it was too late. With a careless twist, Mingi's nose bumped the glass, making the whole container shake, and before he knew it, the press-to-open glass door swung open leaving him vulnerable in front of all the exotic plants that his body would not be accustomed to. The plants, all suddenly agitated by his presence, swayed, and the Blumina released a cloud of bright lilac pollen, enveloping him in a sparkling haze.

“Mingi, no!” You shouted, rushing over to try to pull him back.

"Hey guys there's a...oh my god!!” Jongho gasps as his jaw hangs open to see the large man stepping back towards him in a quick haste. In panic, Mingi bumped into Jongho, who had been working outside the containment to look over and try to figure out just how to navigate the alarming situation. The new fresh container slipped from Jongho’s grasp, and in a flurry, it shattered on the ground.

“No!” Your heart raced as pollen erupted into the room, showering all of you in a thick fog. You swiftly closed your eyes, instinctively leaning away, but it was too late, some of the pollen was already in your system, along with both men as Mingi had already inhaled deeply prior, eyes widening as he staggered backwards and Jongho caught a puff of pollen while he instinctively reached for his teammate. Your effort to quickly pull them both away was deemed useless as the damage was already done.

“Ugh, it burns!” Jongho gasped, wiping his forehead in a sudden cold sweat. Mingi was fanning his face, his expression shifting from confused to wild-eyed.

“What is happening?” Mingi stammered, shaking his head as if trying to clear the fog, almost entranced by swirling particles around him.

You tried to gather your bearings, brushing your limbs over to get the pollen off your slightly bluish skin. Shaking your head you could feel your horns tangled slightly in your hair, “This isn’t good. The Blumina Blossom’s pollen is potent and—” You gulp, your vision clearing as you see both men on the floor in confusion.

“It’s making me feel… funny,” Jongho chimed in, a blush creeping up his neck, his breath coming out in rapid puffs.

Suddenly, Mingi grabbed Jongho’s arm. “I feel really warm. Like, really warm,” he said, his eyes darting around, pupils dilating to almost consume his brown gaze completely. “..I think…” he trailed off, gulping audibly as confusion melted into something more primal. His gaze suddenly snapped to you.

“You both are gonna start experiencing the symptoms.” You rushed as reality hit you like a storm, turning for the rows of cupboards, opening each door in quickened anxiety. Your friends weren’t native, so you’ve never seen or known another creature other than a Xyphorian and other nearby lifeforms to have ever been in contact with the flora before.., “The plant’s pollen has intoxicating properties. It activates…” You took a hitched breath as you began to throw bottles and anything that was in your way, reading each label before discarding it if it wasn't what you were looking for.

“Just tell us!” Mingi shouted, growing in worry. Jongho managed to stand, using the various tables and shelves to wobble to you. His blazing hot hand touched your slightly warm skin making you jump, finally turning to him with tears in your eyes.

“What is going to happen to us? What does this plant do?.” Jongho tried his best to keep his voice stable but you could hear the slight crack in it.

Realising how awkward it sounded but pressed on, snapping your gazes to Mingi, back to Jongho as you knitted your brows. “It activates mating instincts…”

The boys’ eyes widened, their brains finally catching up with the reality of their situation. It was a sexually heightening pollen. A plant genetic that is usually only used by people native to the plant and since Mingi and Jongho were only human Mars-born, the alien properties would most likely be much worse than when a native, like yourself, gets infected. “O-okay…”

Jongho tried to think for a moment, keeping his hand on your shoulder as he swallowed the growing ball of saliva in his mouth, “What can we do.”

“There might be an antigen but preparing it will take too long and by then you both will….” You covered your mouth, feeling as if you were going to be sick. Jongho moved to hold both of your shoulders, feeling sharp pains shoot up his spine as his cock was growing harder and harder by the second. But he tried to comfort you, he needed to.

“What is the other option? Come on Honey, what are you not telling us?”

“You can…” Your eyes met his and all of a sudden every word you spoke became very, very real. “M-mate…with me.”

“Okay, let's do that, we’ll—” Jongho became flustered, his gaze avoiding yours as he couldn’t seem to finish his sentence, his attraction to you evident in his fiery eyes as he looked over to Mingi.

“Me too! I mean, I’ve thought about…A lot” Mingi’s voice cut in, vibrating with urgency as he palmed his cock slightly “But, Doll, uh..only if you want to..”

“I don’t really have a choice, Mingi.” You snapped, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter by the second, even though you didn’t feel the symptoms as strongly as them. You blinked through watery lashes, your heart racing as you tried to handle the escalating emotions of your friends, their confessions surprising yet stirring something within you. You had dreamt of this confession, but it had happened so differently in your mind than what the universe had planned it seems. You wanted it to be filled with laughter, soft lingering touches, and passion. Not raw desperation and two of their lives hanging in the balance. And little did you know, with each word they uttered and every passing second, the symptoms worsened, clouding their judgement and inhibitions and making their tongue loosen.

Before you could fully register what was happening, Mingi had gotten up off the floor to step closer, invading your personal space in the blink of an eye. “Doll, please,” he urged, his voice low, filled with need.

“Just—give me a moment to think!” You closed your eyes, voice stammered, but your mind was clouding, too. Your needs taking control. The boys were handsome, their eyes aflame with desperation, and with your own feelings growing, you felt on the precipice of a decision that could change everything. "Mating in my culture is sacred. The pollen is normally used for royals on their wedding nights… it's just…” You felt an overwhelming sense of pain surge through you knowing your history, your ancestry and everything you had wished for since you were young has now been thrown out the window. And it wasn’t that you were unhappy you would have to mate with either of them. You just never would have thought it would have ended up this way. “I don't want to fuck anything up. Our friendship... It's everything to me."

You looked through a hazy stare from Jongho to Mingi, their need palpable like a magnetic pull. In that moment, with hearts racing and pheromones making a heady mix, you wanted to give in. Embracing the chaos of the moment, you couldn't help but step forward, blending your body against Mingi's, feeling the heat radiate off him. Jongho quickly came up behind you, his lips finding your shoulder as he whispered. "None of this will ruin our friendship. And we understand. We are not Xyphorian, we don’t share the same history and views on sex and mating. But know, we love you in more ways than you could ever imagine. You want to stay friends after this, perfect, we can go on as if this was just another one of Mingi's clumsy mistakes. But if you're willing, Mingi and I have wanted nothing more than to have you as ours for a long time..."

"I don't want this to be a mistake... There are no mistakes when it comes to either of you." You leaned to the side to let Jongho have his way with your skin, littering you with gentle kisses. Mingi's hands snake up to grab your hips, his breath pooling on your lips as you are now inches from him. "I want you both... more than friends.”

That was the green light both men were searching for, both nodding eagerly as the fog completely consumed them. "Let's get back to the ship."

Jongho quickly took in Mingi's words, leaning down to spin you around before picking you up over his shoulder. Your shorts were slowly riding up to expose your ass and Mingi instantly took notice of this, swearing under his breath as his fingers touched your blue flesh, pinching your cheeks delicately. Your yelp made them chuckle, watching Jongho bring up his hand to the slit of your ass cheeks, moving the rough fabric of your pants and panties out of the way to expose the wet slick leaking from your clenching hole. "Fucking hell."

"Let's start getting you ready Honey." Jongho slipped his pointer and middle finger inside you with ease, drawing a long staggering whine from you. Mingi wide-stepped until he was behind you both, your face at perfect height level for him to grab you in an awkward but exciting kiss. Your whines were swallowed by Mingi as you felt Jongho pumper in a sporadic rhythm, more focused on not dropping you than fingering your tight hole. “Fuck she’s squeezing me.”

“I can’t wait to feel you around me. I feel like I'm gonna explode any second.” Mingi’s voice stuttered against your swollen lips as they quickly headed for the bedroom quarter in the ship, never leaving your cunt or mouth for a second. It wasn't until they made it to Mingi's quarters that they let you breathe, throwing you onto the bed as if you weighed nothing. You knew Jongho was strong, but this was definitely an eye-opener. Your eyes wandered over both of them, taking note of the sweat practically dripping off their faces onto their clothing while their cheeks were flustered and their breaths were staggering. The symptoms were increasing by the second but you had to admit both of them seemed to be holding it together far better than anyone you’ve seen in the past. Normally most half-Xyphorian or other outer world men and women would be crying, begging messes by now, needing to be filled, stuffed or to empty their load. But, No, Mingi and Jongho were in fact, acting more like full-blooded Xyphorians. As if the lingering fiery feeling in their gut wasn't causing a pain unimaginable to surge through their simple human bodies.

They were a lot stronger than you thought.

But in truth they were both about to lose it if they didn't have their way with you in the next few moments. But it was their compassion, their love to make sure you were okay with everything that kept them from pressing further. The ball was in your court and you chose to push both of them, slipping out of your shorts and shirt effortlessly. Their eyes never left your body as you went to unclip the back of your bra. “Fuck if I wasn't feeling like my skin was on fire I’d enjoy this show a lot more.”

“I have to agree, Min. Our girl is giving us a perfect show but yet this silly plant has made our patience wear thin.” Jongho’s grunt was nothing you’d ever heard before, coming from the man. His voice, normally smooth and buttery, was now gravelled and lustful. He was quick to grab your ankles, yanking you towards the edge of the bed until your legs hung on either side of his thick frame. Your eyes bored holes into Jongho’s figure as he ridded himself of his shirt and pants. Mingi was right beside him also doing the same. Everything was happening so fast, but the growing fire in their guts was telling them it was not fast enough.

Jongho’s fingers found the band on your panties, pulling the fabric taut until he could hear a rip before it snapped cleanly in two. You have never seen a hotter thing in your life, “Fuck Jongho…”

“Don’t worry honey, I'll make sure we have our full.” The pollen has completely consumed them now, the only thoughts clouding their minds was filling you up with their seed. The need to breed reaching its peak. Mingi took a seat next to your head on the soft bed, his cock merely inches from your face but it was Jongho who took your thoughts as the tip of his dick smacked lightly against your exposed cunt. “Take a deep breath, baby.”

You obeyed, feeling Jongho sink completely inside you, hard and in one rough thrust. All the extra slick your body had created from the ingestion of pollen had made it easier for Jongho to snuggle right inside your quivering hole. With a clammy palm he wiped his brow of sweat, bringing your left leg over his shoulder, while the right found place tightly wrapped around his waist. His hand gripped your knee tightly as he began to drill inside you forcibly, almost knocking out the air in your lungs.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” You screamed, never feeling such an intense feeling before. You’ve had sex before in your life but there was something about the mating ritual, along with the pollen that had made this experience all the more heightened and erotic. Your hand instinctively went beside you, finding Mingi’s angry red cock waiting. You grabbed the base of the shaft tightly, making the poor human whimper out a high-pitched sob. Just the feeling of your delicate fingers was almost enough to make him empty his load. But he bit back another sob as your mouth kissed along each vein, your tongue curling around him, lubing his cock up with your saliva. Mingi’s hand which wasn’t holding him up, found a place on your breast, squeezing and pinching the flesh roughly between his calloused fingers, causing your hips to buck and your mind to grow more foggy by the extra stimulation.

It didn’t take long for Jongho’s hips to stutter, the heat circling in his body began to migrate from all parts of him to just his gut, feeling the twist and twine of desire forming into a tight band, “Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer, Honey. I need you to cum for me so I empty my load into your pretty pussy. Do you think you can do that for me, baby?”

“Fuck, nmargh.” You cried, feeling his hips slap more firmly against you. Never in your life would you have taken Jongho, sweet quiet Jongho to be a filthy talker. A part of you wondered if it was the pollen making him say such things or not but his thumb found your clit you no longer care for the answer. “I’m gonna…”

You didn’t finish your sentence, your hand tightening around Mingi’s cock while your mouth fell back onto it in a heated haze of desire. Your walls clenched around Jongho, sucking him in as he snapped his hips in a staggering rhythm. Snap, pauce, snap pause. His balls hitting your ass every time as his pelvis lands flush against you. Jongho came to a stop, his fingers rubbing you in tight circles to draw out your climax while he came deep inside you, filling you up with his never-ending cum. “God, your cunt is sucking me in baby. So, argh, fucking…” He drilled his hips a few more times, “Tight…”

Mingi quickly got up in an almost drunken haze, your watery eyes open just ajar to see, both men switch their positions. Jongho, dropped your aching legs to fall beside you on the large bed while Mingi seemingly took Jongho’s old place. “Come here, Honey.” Jongho’s sombrous voice drew your attention as he grabbed you under your arms to pull you up with no effort until you were lying on top of him. Your back snuggly against his chest. His large hand cupped your chin, tilting your head to his so his mouth could find yours. His free hand reached up to your little horns, successfully holding you in place.

Mingi, on the other hand, leaned forward between your legs so he could latch his mouth against your nipples, littering your chest with sloppy wet kisses and nibbles. Your breasts were completely covered with marks before Mingi deemed himself ready to move, sitting up straight so he was in line with your soaked cunt. He sunk in with one long, desperate thrust, letting all his girth slip inside you. Your whines were quickly swallowed by Jongho as Mingi began drilling into you without any warning. The sting was pleasuring, clenching tightly around his thick length, trying desperately to get used to his longer size.

"Fuck this is the most perfect fucking pussy." It was Mingi's turn now to spill filth, bringing both of your legs over his shoulders so he could bend you in half, fucking your deeper and fuller. "Shit, I'm not gonna last. Fuck, fuck."

The pollen had seemingly shortened their length of lasting to a climax but almost tripled their stamina. You could feel Jonghos angrily hard cock flushed against you while he felt the brew of fire in his gut creeping its way back. So it was going to take more than one load to get the pollen out of their system, it seemed. Mingi felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as he hiccuped a whine. He wanted to last longer. He needed to, but you were so warm, so tight and welcoming. Everything about your pretty body was too perfect, making his hips stutter and legs shake.

"Fuck I'm sorry I'm, nargh c..coming, shit." Mingi gasped stilling his hips to empty his thick ropes into your gummy walls, basking in the way you flutter against him as you felt yourself get filled to the brim.

"Mingi...Jongho..." You pleaded, needing to let go yourself. You were so close, but you needed more. More of them. "P-please.."

Jongho heard your cries and quickly jumped into action, shifting down while spreading his legs so he could plant his left foot up, angling you so the tip of his cock was pressed firmly against where Mingi was still connected to you. His lips tickled your ear as he grunted against you. "Take a deep breath, baby."

You listened with a sharp scream as you felt Jongho sink into your sensitive hole, stretching you out to fit snuggly beside Mingi. Both men couldn't help but choke out groans of their own, Mingi whining your name on repeat while Jongho's pants got deeper and faster. The sensation of both of their cocks inside you was enough to get you to come then and there but it was when they started moving that your mind seemed to snap. "Fuck, so b-big. So much. Fuck, Min, Jjong. Nnargnng~."

They fucked you at different paces, feeling each other slide against one another. Letting both men feel each ridge and vein of the other. Your hand flew to your clit, rubbing tight circles as you felt yourself tip of the edge. "Fucckkk."

Your juices came out quicker than a waterfall, damping the sheets, both men and some of the floor. The way your pussy clamped down causes both of them to drive their cocks in you at a speed that causes the air to get hitched in your lungs with a silent scream. The feeling of them emptying their seed deep inside you at the same time caused your eyes to roll back and a shiver down your spine. Mingi and Jongho slowed their thrusts until they both came to a complete stop, the firing sensation prickling under your skin finally dying down. There was finally a moment of peace as the pollen began to dissipate from your systems. Your face squashed against Jongho's sweaty chest, letting you find comfort in his strong heartbeat, taking in his scent while you felt Mingi lean down, kissing along your neck lazily.

In the end, the Blumina Blossom might have caused a mess, but it opened the door to an adventure that was both unexpected and embraced with open hearts. And as stars twinkled outside the hull of the ship, showing the evening transition to night, you, Jongho, and Mingi nestled closer stealing the heat from one another as sleep was quick to take hold of your aching limbs.

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lets-try-some-writing · 16 days ago

Note

I read the story about the tiny feral Orion Pax and I want a second part where Alpha Trion randomly showed up at the Autobot base and told stories about how feral Optimus was when he was just a sparkling to the Autobots and humans alike. I think Ratchet might remember the incidents as he might have had to repair the little monster a few times

Hmm well I doubt he'd actually turn up at base proper, but I CAN see Smokescreen being the one to speak of things Alpha Trion told him. Bonus funnies if he has no clue that "Orion Pax" Is Optimus Prime.

The other piece with Trion can be found here. Plus the series of Smokey things this is attached to can be found here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

For once, the base was filled with laughter and cheer. After a particularly stressful battle, Wheeljack had seen fit to bring out high-grade for everyone's enjoyment. To 'let off steam' he said. Ratchet attempted to shut down the idea before it could fully root itself in the minds of those present, but surprisingly, Optimus permitted it. Perhaps the rumors weren't entirely true. Maybe Primes did party.

It hadn't taken long for the Wreckers to pull out cubes and start handing out Wheeljack's special brand of high-grade.Smokescreen had never been given the chance to indulge in the drink, but now that he was a warrior and Alpha Trion wasn't breathing down his neck, the overcharged liquid flowed freely. He felt a bit like a sparkling with his servo caught in the goodie jar, but he relaxed upon seeing Bumblebee whip out a straw and start going to town on his cube.

Admittedly, watching Bumblebee fuel was a bit unsettling since he lacked a good portion of his jaw, but Smokescreen simply refocused on his own treat.

The high-grade was sweet, almost like candy that had been melted down. And yet it was also bubbly, bordering on the texture and taste of a ration a few cycles from going bad. Despite both those things, Smokescreen found he enjoyed the drink, especially as a pleasant buzz started to run along his systems. The world seemed all the brighter as the high-grade quietly sent his auxiliary sensory protocols into hazy inactivity. Was this what the humans felt like all the time? Limited just to sight and hearing?

It was kind of novel.

As the high-grade flowed, Smokescreen noticed that the team seemed to share his feelings on the matter of overcharge. Before too long, bots laughed and sang; a few even began to open up. Smokescreen watched it all from the sidelines for the most part, listening as the Wreckers began exchanging stories and Arcee went into detail about a few of her more exciting missions. Even Bee chimed in with a retelling of some fun events that went on during training. But the story swapping didn't really get wild until Ratchet of all bots spoke up.

"There was this one time I had to patch up Orion. He apparently decided it would be a fantastic idea to attempt parkour like Jazz. Without any training, no less." The team laughed. Smokescreen snickered into his drink. The name Orion sounded familiar, but it was not something that immediately registered in his memory banks.

"Jazz dragged him into my clinic with a broken leg, one dislocated shoulder, half his plating shredded, and his right audial half torn off." Ratchet laughed, nudging Optimus with a shoulder. The Prime didn't comment and instead smiled softly as he sipped his drink. The team joined the medic in his mirth, commenting quietly and giggling like younglings.

"According to someone, 'it seemed like a great idea at the time'." The medic chuckled into his high-grade, more than a little buzzed due to it. As he did so, Smokescreen recognized the name at last.

"Oh, I think I know who you are talking about! Orion Pax! The head archivist! Alpha Trion told me all about him!" Smokescreen's words, thank Primus, didn't end up coming out too slurred as he spoke up. The team paused in their activities, their optics falling on him in interest. Even Optimus's optics widened in what he could only assume was interest. Smokescreen suffered momentary stage fright, but he continued on with his thought.

"Trion said that Orion was brought into the archives when he was still a sparkling, and that he was a little menace." Ratchet laughed outright at the statement, slapping Optimus's shoulder in amusement before going back to his drink all giggly. Wheeljack poured himself and the rest of the team another cube in response.

"Well, don't keep us waiting, kid. What'd the old cogger say?" Wheeljack grinned like a terrorcon, earning a baleful glare from Optimus. Smokescreen, however, in his high-grade fueled stupor, didn't recognize any potential danger and continued on with his story. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it after all.

"I never would have guessed the head archivist would be the way he was, but according to Trion, he liked to lick datapads." There was a momentary silence, one only emphasized by Optimus staring at Smokescreen in horror. He almost regretted opening his mouth, but that fear went flying out the window as Ratchet cackled and promptly slapped the nearest surface as he wheezed out his laughter. He was almost incoherent as he pointed at Optimus, his optics flashing with emotion only brought out by overcharged drinks. "I fragging knew my medical texts had fluid on them!" Smokescreen stared at Ratchet in momentary concern, but his focus was drawn back to the story he was telling as Arcee gave him a wolfish grin along with a question.

"He licked datapads?" The two-wheeler looked to be trying desperately to keep her composure. Smokescreen couldn't exactly blame her. There weren't many bots who had habits like the old head archivist. Licking datapads of all things, he could hardly picture the sanitary concerns. But then again, Smokescreen wasn't much better with a few of his well-hidden preferences.

"Yeah! Guess the head archivist thought they tasted good or something. Trion said Orion Pax never really got over the habit and occasionally gnawed on them when stressed." That was enough to have Bulkhead leaning against the nearest wall for support. Ratchet for his part dropped to his knees, clutching his abdomen as his vents flared in response to his howling laughter. He seemed to find it far more funny than anyone else, but the Doctor's reaction urged Smokescreen on, especially as Bumblebee snorted into his drink and splattered it on his face.

"That wasn't all he did, though! Alpha Trion told me all about how the head archivist used to climb the pillars in the archives! There were still claw marks in the metal when I was there." Another round of spark clenching laughter met his declaration. Arcee outright wheezed, trying desperately not to look in Optimus's direction. Bumblebee wasn't much better, or Wheeljack for that matter. Both looked a moment away from combusting as they tried to hold back laughter. Bulkhead just leaned harder against the wall, a servo brought up to his mouth as Ratchet cackled on the ground.

Smokescreen paused in his story, watching the team and their frantic attempts to not look at their Prime. He tilted his helm in confusion, watching as Optimus held his cube with a neutral expression. However, looking closer through his auxiliary heat sensing systems, Smokescreen could catch the faintest hints of what looked to be a blush of all things. Was this what the rumors meant when they said Primes didn't party?

"I was given the head archivist's old room while I was there, for that matter. It was just me with Trion most of the time, so I got the closest room to his, which just happened to be Pax's." Smokescreen rubbed his neck a little sheepishly, sensing that there was something he might have missed.

"He had some weird habits, sure. But I got to see a few of his old records, and he seemed really nice! Just a bit off is all." Somehow, his attempt at easing the strange tension coming from Optimus did the exactly opposite. He could almost see the way Optimus's shoulders slumped as Ratchet continued to lose his mind on the ground, drink forgotten.

"What sort of habits?" Bumblebee chimed in, his binary tones still a bit difficult to decipher, but not impossible. Smokescreen paused for a moment, unsure if he should continue seeing how stressed Optimus appeared. He wasn't sure why the Prime seemed so uncomfortable, but it was probably a good idea to not tempt fate.

"I uh… I don't want to damage the poor mech's reputation since he's probably not around anymore." Smokescreen fiddled with his drink, his enthusiasm dimmed. But before he could fully close himself off, Ratchet hobbled his way over, grinning and tapping Smokescreen's chassis.

"Go on, tell us about it. I can assure you, as one of Orion's oldest friends, he won't be upset." Smokescreen reset his optics. But seeing the entirety of the team, save for Optimus, looking enthused… well he couldn't exactly say no, now could he?

"Well, Orion Pax had a hero wall in his room. It was well hidden. I found it behind a wall panel that I kicked by accident." Every passing moment made Optimus look more and more willing to perish. All the while, the team leaned in closer, eager to hear to an almost rabid degree. Smokescreen was more than a little nervous, but he continued on.

"The whole thing was covered in posters and snippets of gladiators, various political figures, and a LOT of Soundwave pics. Guess Pax was into freaky mechs." Uproarious laughter met Smokescreen's words as Ratchet moved over to Optimus and slapped his arm, his optics bright and hazy from the high-grade and amusement. Finally, Optimus frowned in discontentment and Smokescreen took that as his cue to wrap up.

It seemed like the Prime was done with the whole partying business.

"To be fair, it was very beautifully put together!" More laughter met him, this time from Bumblebee and Wheeljack who had to lean on the nearest surface for support. Arcee just shook like a bomb about to go off, her grip on her cube shaky and uncertain as she fought back a smile. Bulkhead just wheezed in the corner.

Smokescreen fidgeted with his digits nervously.

"I… I saved something from his room, actually." The laughter eased for a moment as the team looked over at him curiously. Even Optimus's frown relaxed a degree as Smokescreen hastily dug through his sub-space. He didn't have to know why Optimus seemed so uncomfortable with the discussion. For all he knew, Orion might have been a good friend. It seemed like a good idea to pull out something less humorous.

It took him a moment, but soon enough, Smokescreen pulled out a small vial. It glowed blue, showing the innermost energon within it. Smokescreen almost felt bad holding the thing. Innermost energon was only meant for mecha important to an individual, and here he was, some random guardsmech who rooted around in the head archivist's room. The only reason he'd picked it up and shoved it in his subspace to begin with was because he originally intended to give it to Alpha Trion for safekeeping. Of course, that had to have been the very same night the attack on Iacon occurred.

"Is that-?" Bulkhead spoke up, but cut himself short as Optimus stepped forward, his optics wide.

"Innermost energon… a gift intended for an amica." Any laughter died in it's cradle as Optimus tenderly reached out. Smokescreen didn't hesitate to pass over the vial, watching as the mood shifted into something more solemn.

The Prime ran his digits over the small vial, his optics cycled wide as if he were a newbuild. His field pulsed in waves of old sorrow for a long moment, earning him a gentle touch from Ratchet once the Doctor composed himself enough to come closer. The rest of the team stayed silent, each of them seeming to know something important regarding Optimus and Orion Pax that Smokescreen was not privy to.

"Did you know archivist Pax? If that's the case… I'm sorry for throwing his secrets around. I just assumed that with the war and all, considering he was a civilian, he probably didn't…" Smokescreen trailed off, not wanting to meet the gazes of anyone present as the high-grade in his system eased enough to let him think clearly. What sort of aft mocked the dead? Slag, he'd messed up.

"I intended to gift this to Soundwave in the hopes that by being amica, we might be able to grow close enough to help Megatronus more efficiently." The words registered, but they did not fully compute as the Prime lifted the vial, watching it sadly.

"It was to be a bond to bind us for a lifetime, as Megatronus's right and left servos. His guides and aids in the battle for Cybertron's freedom." Ratchet held Optimus's arm, his field pulsing in age old grief that Smokescreen could hardly comprehend. The rest of the team simply observed.

"I planned to gift this token after our meeting with the High Council… but that event destroyed any brotherhood that might have lingered between us." A deep sigh escaped the Prime then, the air growing heavier with ancient regret.

"I lost more than just Megatronus that cycle. I lost so much more than him." With a weary flare of his field, Optimus held the vial a little longer before passing it back to Smokescreen. Only as he held it did everything click.

"You are Archivist Pax?" Optimus smiled ever so slightly at that.

"I was, long ago. But Orion no longer lingers here. He is but an echo of a happier time." With that, the Prime turned to leave, seemingly done with it all.

"Please, enjoy your evening. Do not allow my lamentations to ruin your celebrations." Without another word, Optimus hurried off toward his hab. The team watched in worry for a while, and Smokescreen fiddled with the vial while contemplating the implications of everything. But eventually, the team returned to their activities. Wheeljack put on a movie and poured more drinks. Bulkhead set up makeshift seating, Bumblebee sat down to watch the film with Arcee. Ratchet, for his part, passed out without meaning to five kliks into the movie.

Smokescreen took the opportunity to step away and follow after Optimus, soon finding himself knocking on the Prime's door.

When it opened, Smokescreen held out the vial, his door wings dipped in anxiety.

"I'm sorry for saying all that stuff about you! I didn't mean anything by it! And… I'm sorry I brought up bad memories." He didn't look up, he couldn't bring himself to. Without intending it, he'd hurt Optimus's reputation and brought up old losses. He'd messed up.

"Smokescreen."

Optimus's voice was gentle, almost sad as he reached out and pressed the vial back into Smokescreen's servos. His optics widened in shock, quickly forcing him to start up at the Prime in confusion.

"Do not feel guilty for what you have done. It was in good faith, and I know your spark." The Prime smiled tenderly as he clasped Smokescreen's shoulder, a fond gesture that seemed both so very right and wrong all at once.

"This is yours. It's your innermost energon. Don't you want it back?" His question rang out, unanswered for a long while. But after a klik, Optimus shook his helm.

"It is a remnant of a time long gone by. I would rather it come to new servos and represent something other than what it was originally intended to signify." With that, the Prime's servo moved down. The next thing Smokescreen knew, Optimus was holding his servos, a kind expression on his face.

Why? Why would Optimus trust him with such a thing?

"I don't understand." He murmured faintly as he heard the distant sounds of the movie playing in the background.

"You were also a student of Alpha Trion. You served him as I did, so long ago." Optimus, to Smokescreen's shock dropped to a knee to put them on equal level. He had no words. How could he? Optimus was on his knees just so they could speak at the same level.

"We are all that remains of our master, and in a sense, that ties us together." Smokescreen's field flared in disbelief, but also… relief. He'd been alone in his thoughts since his arrival. The team didn't know him, so they didn't really talk to him. The humans were nice enough, but they could never understand.

To know he had someone who cared? Who knew the loss?

"We're kind of like brothers then." Smokescreen laughed softly, nervously even. But Optimus didn't refute him. The Prime simply hummed and squeezed his servos. Somehow, that simple act conveyed more than words ever could.

"Keep this token of my youth, Smokescreen. Erase the sorrow it brings with a new promise, or perhaps remembrance for our departed teacher." Quietly, Optimus released his grip and stood back up, his expression strangely peaceful. He stood in his doorway for a while, seemingly thinking. Then, he nodded.

"If all else should fail, remember me, little brother." Then, just like that, the door slid closed.

Smokescreen stared for a while, unable to move. When he did, he meandered back to his room in silence, staring down at the small vial.

"Brothers…"

He murmured into the night, and as he did so, his view of the Prime shifted. Optimus was his leader, his idol, his Prime.

But beneath all that, hidden behind layers of rank and order, was someone he could trust. Someone who understood.

A mech he might one day dare to openly call a friend.

#well this got angsty without meaning to #whatever its good soup #transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #team prime #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #arcee #smokescreen #smokey optimus brotherhood for life

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what-even-is-thiss · 4 months ago

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Quick and cheap filling vegetarian food (I’m going ovo-lacto for this)

Soup:

Dump some cans of stuff in a pot. Maybe some seasoning too. Pearl barley or rice may also be a good choice to bulk things out. With beans or legumes and some kind of grain you can make a whole protein. If that doesn’t appeal to you add some cheese or poached egg. Don’t add a lot of rice btw it will expand don’t turn your soup into a rice dish I swear to gosh

Quesadillas:

Basic idea for this is shredded cheese melted in between two tortillas warmed up on either side in a pan, in a microwave if you’re feeling extra depressed. But other stuff can be added. Salsa, pico, leftover tofu or beans, sliced peppers or onion. It’s a dish that’s as complicated or as simple as you want to make it.

Casseroles:

Dump a can of cream of mushroom or cream of potato soup on it. It’ll work itself out probably.

Scrambled eggs:

The most braindead way to cook eggs. You can even scramble them in the pan. Put stuff in it. I like putting fried tomatoes in it. Add enough mushrooms and cheese and you can feel your system clogging up in real time. Eat some toast with it to convince yourself that adding carbs makes it fine actually

Curry:

Wildly oversimplified term for basically most Indian food. It’s simpler to make than you think. The spices are the important part. The base of a lot of types of Indian food is onion, ginger, garlic, and tomato and then add spices and stuff to that. What stuff? Whatever. Spinach, potatoes, coconut milk, regular milk, even more tomatoes, lentils, beans, yogurt. Put it over rice probably. Use powdered onion and ginger-garlic paste and canned tomatoes when you’re tired. Probably look up some actual Indian YouTubers and bloggers to get more specific recipes than my stupid ass can provide.

Peanut noodles:

Cook some noodles. Probably ramen noodles. Melt some peanut butter on it and add soy sauce. Merry Christmas.

Melts:

Get a panini press so you never have to think again. Cheese, something else, bread, hot, eat. Add a sauce and some nicely grilled vegetables if you want to but tbh a midnight grilled cheese with tomato isn’t gonna be a gourmet meal. Just make it so you can finish crying.

Smoothie:

Frozen fruit and/or veggies and some kind of liquid. I usually use strawberry, mango, and soymilk. Maybe yogurt too idk. The worst part of this is cleaning the blender later but the actual process of making it is fast.

Pasta:

There’s more to life than just spaghetti and red sauce. Or so I’ve been told. You can use canned soups as a sauce sometimes if you reduce them a bit. I like butternut squash soup. Adding some cream cheese to sauces tastes better than it sounds and can fix your protein problem that you sometimes get with pasta dishes. Keeping a jar of pesto and some mushrooms in the fridge can make for a fast dinner when you need it.

Chili:

Get two different types of beans and some tomatoes and chili powder and whatever in a pot and let those bitches get to know each other and simmer while you stare off into space for a while. Maybe like 10-20 minutes idk it tastes good with sour cream

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cobragardens · 1 year ago

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Every Anglican church has a basin of holy water. It's not, like, in demand as a criminal product. It's not guarded. It's not even really supervised.

It's usually not even kept near the apse. In one Anglican cathedral (Manchester Cathedral) I visited regularly, the basin was kept next to the entrance, and the lapsed Catholic I was with dipped his fingers in and crossed himself with it out of sheer habit because apparently Catholic churches all have holy-water basins next to the entrance so people can do that.

And btw churches aren't even locked during the day. Like, there will always be somebody around in the church who will check in on you at some point, but I don't think you'd have to visit more than half a dozen before you were left alone with a basin of holy water for long enough to scoop some into a water bottle, especially in 1967. A lot of them are big historic monuments and have literal tourists wandering around them unattended.

Even if you decide to go to all the completely needless effort of breaking into a church and stealing it at night, it is a church, and it is 1967. It does not have a security system. There are no cameras. This is not Ethan Hunt breaking into CIA Headquarters. The locksmith could open the door and just...fill up a jar of holy water and leave. I cannot overstate how wildly unnecessary a heist for this substance is.

But! This is also the era of the spy thriller, and it's the year the bullet-hole stickers that were a promotion for the James Bond movie at a petrol station appear on Crowley's car window--

--and he is wearing his Spy Turtleneck.

This means Crowley has spent the last century thinking about how to get his hands on some holy water, and the solution he has generated is not "Offer a random kid £10 to bring me a bottle of water from the holy water basin in the church and tell him I'll give him another £10 if it's dry and wrapped in two towels," no. The Wile E. Coyote answer he has come up with requires a locksmith, a guy called "Spike" to be "the muscles," and Sally "going down on the ropes."

#good omens #good omens s1 #good omens church heist job #crowley's spy turtleneck #the bullet-hole stickers #crowley

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sizzlingstarlightsky · 24 days ago

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Im Only Gonna Drag You Down

Eris x Reader

Summary: You've been fine, but your depression comes out of nowhere. Now all you can feel is numb as you look for an escape from reality. Eris takes it upon himself to help you through it.

word count: 1.7k

cw: I'm so sorry... the demons told me to write this /s

The morning sun cast a soft glow across the room, illuminating the dust motes that danced lazily in the air. You stirred under the warm blankets, eyes slowly adjusting to the light that seeped through the gap in the curtains.

Your hand reached out automatically to the cold space beside you, expecting to feel the reassuring warmth of your mate's body. But the emptiness only served as a cruel reminder that you were alone.

Eris had left early to attend to him duties in the court, giving you space to deal with your tumultuous emotions.

You hadn't seen him since the night before, when you'd broken down, the weight of your depression finally too much to bear. His eyes had been filled with a mix of pain and determination as he held you tightly, whispering soothing words into your ear. But even his gentle embrace couldn't chase away the numbness that consumed you.

Now, lying in the quiet of the room, you felt the heaviness of your soul pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

You tried to sit up, but your body felt like it was made of stone, unresponsive to your desperate attempts to break free.

The once comforting scent of him on the pillow only served to deepen the ache in your chest. You could almost hear the echo of his footsteps, the sound of his laughter, but it was all just a taunting memory.

With a deep breath, you pushed yourself upright, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Your bare feet touched the cold wooden floor, sending a jolt up your spine.

You knew you needed to get moving, to do something—anything—to keep the suffocating emptiness at bay.

You glanced around the room, eyes lingering on the half-empty mug of tea he'd brought you last night, the candle that had burned down to a stub. The sight of them made your stomach clench, a reminder that even in the midst of your despair, he was there, trying to be your beacon of light.

The sound of a bird's sweet trill outside the window pulled you from your thoughts.

You stumbled over to the sill, gripping the edge for support. The sight of the vibrant world outside was jarring, quite the contrast to the gloom that clung to you.

You watched the sun rise higher in the sky, the colors shifting from pale pinks to vibrant oranges and yellows. It was a beautiful morning, a perfect day that you had no right to spoil with your dark thoughts.

With a heavy sigh, you turned away from the window and reached for your robe. The fabric was soft against your skin, but it couldn't soothe the turmoil within.

You shuffled over to the washbasin, the cold water a shock to your system as you splashed it onto your face. You stared at your reflection, searching for any semblance of the person you once were.

The eyes that looked back at you were hollow, lifeless pools of despair.

What does he even see in you?

The question whispered through your mind, as persistent as the buzz of a pesky fly. You knew you weren't whole, that your shattered pieces were held together by a thread so thin it could snap at any moment.

Yet Eris had claimed you as his mate, promising to stand by your side, to cherish and protect you. The weight of his love was a burden you didn't feel worthy of carrying.

You managed to get dressed, the act of pulling on your clothes feeling like a monumental achievement.

As you stepped out into the corridor, the castle's usual bustle felt alien and overwhelming. Voices, laughter, and the clatter of footsteps echoed around you, each sound a knife twisting in your gut.

You craved the solitude of the library, a place where the words in the ancient tomes had once offered you comfort.

The library was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could lose yourself in the tales of heroes and myths, if only for a brief reprieve from reality.

As you approached the grand oak doors, they swung open, revealing Eris standing there, a book tucked under his arm, his gaze searching for you. His eyes widened with relief when he saw you, and he strode over, his movements full of concern.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, his voice a soothing balm.

You tried to smile, but it felt forced.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." The words were heavy, a lie coated in a thin layer of hope.

Eris studied you intently, his gaze sweeping over your drawn features. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat like a lump of unyielding ice. But the warmth of his touch was a gentle prod, urging you to open up. With a shaky exhale, you nodded.

"I just...I don't know what happened. I felt okay, and then everything just...crashed."

He led you to a secluded corner of the library, his hand never leaving yours. The scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air, a familiar comfort that did little to ease the storm raging in your chest. Eris sat beside you on the plush velvet bench, his eyes never leaving yours as you spoke.

"It's like...everything just stopped making sense," you whispered, the words raw and painful. "I feel like I'm stuck in a fog, and I can't find my way out."

Eris's grip tightened on your hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles.

"Depression can be like that," he said, his voice low and soothing. "It doesn't always come with a warning. Sometimes it just...appears."

You nodded, his understanding piercing the fog ever so slightly.

"I know. It's just...I didn't think it would come back. I thought I was stronger than this."

Eris leaned in, his eyes filled with a fierce tenderness.

"Strength isn't about never falling, it's about always getting back up." He paused, his expression earnest. "And you will. We'll face this together."

But the words felt hollow, the weight of exhaustion dragging at your very soul.

"What if I'm too tired to keep fighting?" The question slipped out, a quiet admission of defeat that hung heavy between you.

"Then I'll carry you," Eris said firmly.

His hand cupped your cheek, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin.

"We'll fight together."

You searched his eyes, looking for a crack in his resolve, a hint of doubt. But all you found was a steadfast belief in you, a conviction that you were worth fighting for.

"It's not your burden. You deserve someone better."

"Someone better?" Eris's voice was a soft rumble of disbelief. "You are my heart, my mate. There is no one better for me than you. We face this as one, just as we face everything else."

His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped your lashes, the warmth of his skin leaving a trail of comfort.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease a fraction.

"But what if I drag you down with me?"

Eris's eyes searched yours, full of a fierce love that seemed too bright for the dimly lit room.

"Then I'll fly with you, even into the darkest depths of the earth. I swore an oath to you, and I meant it. Through every joy and sorrow, I am yours, and you are mine."

He took a deep breath, the air in the library seeming to still around you both.

"But I need you to do one thing for me."

Your heart thudded in your chest, hope and fear mingling in an uneasy dance.

"What?"

"Let me help you," Eris said simply, his eyes never wavering from yours. "Allow me to share this burden, to support you when you can't stand alone."

You bit your lip, the tears welling up again.

"I don't want to be a burden."

Eris's gaze softened, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're not. You're my partner, my equal. And in the same way that I would fight to the death for you, I'll stand by you in this too."

He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Please, let me in."

The sincerity in his words pierced through the fog, and you found yourself nodding, the first real spark of hope flickering in your chest. He leaned over, wrapping his arms around you in a fierce embrace. You melted into him, feeling the warmth and solidity of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

"I'll read to you," Eris murmured, pulling back to look into your eyes. "You just listen and rest."

He picked up the book he'd brought, the title long forgotten in the face of your pain. As he opened it to a random page, you leaned your head against his shoulder, the comfort of his presence seeping into your very bones.

His voice, deep and melodious, began to weave a tale of adventure and love, the words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The steady rhythm of his reading soon lulled you into a doze, the story's cadence acting as a lullaby to quiet the chaos in your mind.

The sun shone in your eyes as you sat up in your small bed, the light revealing the cramped room you called home.

The smell of burnt toast wafted in from the kitchen, a reminder of your mundane existence.

Your hand reached out to the cold space beside you, searching for Eris's warmth, but all you found was the chill of the pillow.

Your heart sank as reality crashed down on you like a lead weight.

You pushed yourself off the bed, the springs protesting with a groan. Your bare feet hit the floor, the coldness jolting you fully awake.

The dream had been so vivid, so real, that for a moment you had truly believed in the fantasy of a world where you had a mate, a love so strong it could conquer your deepest fears.

But it was just a figment of your imagination, a desperate attempt to escape the loneliness that had become your constant companion.

Comment if you want to be added to a Taglist

💙 Azriel ❤️‍🔥Eris ✨️General ⚠️Kinktober

@chunkypossum @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ysmtttty @nessiandefenseattorney @nocasdatsgay @secret-third-thing @azysmate @yennas-stuff @a-courtof-azriel @batboyrhyrhy @lilah-asteria @velarisnightsky444 @christeareads @thestarlightexpress @viktoriaashleyyx @pandora0d-arcy

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #im sorry #eris fluff #eris angst #hurt/comfort #daylight savings #sessional depression #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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newobsessionweekly · 6 months ago

Text

Puppy Bradford

part 1

Main Masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You consider fostering Charlie after his mom's passing, but things don't always go as planned, they are better when Tim proposes to you.

Fluff

Requested: yes

Words: 4k

The weeks after Charlie's initial stay at your home saw a transformation none of you anticipated. Tim's grumpiness was gradually replaced by a quieter acceptance, and Charlie began to see you both as the support system he desperately needed.

"Hey, Y/N," Charlie called one evening, the excitement in his voice palpable through the phone. "I got an A in Geometry!"

You smiled, pride swelling in your chest. "That's amazing, Charlie! I knew you could do it. Tim's going to be so proud when he hears."

"Yeah, he really helped me study," Charlie admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Can you tell him I said thanks?"

"Of course, sweetheart. He'll be thrilled," you replied, glancing at Tim, who was engrossed in a football game. You nudged him playfully, and he glanced at you with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Charlie got an A in Geometry."

Tim's face softened, a rare look of pride shining in his eyes. "That's great. Tell him good job and to keep it up."

This became a regular occurrence. Charlie called you often, updating you on his progress at school, sharing his successes and his struggles. Each conversation filled your heart with a sense of purpose and joy, knowing you were making a difference in his life. Tim, too, found himself eagerly awaiting these updates, though he tried to mask his growing affection with his usual gruff exterior.

"Hey, Y/N, guess what?" Charlie's voice crackled through the phone one afternoon. "I made the basketball team!"

"That's fantastic, Charlie!" you exclaimed, "We'll have to come to your first game."

"Really? You and Tim would come?" His surprise and joy were evident.

"Absolutely. We're your biggest fans."

Tim and you make it a point to visit the hospital every few days, ensuring that Charlie and his mom, Lisa, have everything they need. The sterile smell of antiseptic and the quiet hum of medical equipment become familiar as you navigate the hallways.

Every time you walk in, the air feels heavy with unspoken words and lingering fears. Lisa's frail frame lies against the pillows, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you. Charlie hovers by her side, offering what comfort he can.

"Y/N, Tim, you didn't have to come again," she would say, her voice frail but warm.

"We want to," you would reply gently, setting down a basket of fresh fruits and some books. "You're part of our family now."

Tim would give her a reassuring nod, his eyes softening as he took in the scene. "Is there anything you need, Lisa?" he'd ask, always ready to lend a hand.

Her gratitude was palpable, her eyes brimming with tears at the kindness you both showed. "You two are a godsend," she'd whisper, "I don't know what we would have done without you."

You'd sit by her side, holding her hand, feeling the frailty of her grip. "We're here for you, Lisa. For both of you."

"I can't thank you enough for everything you're doing. Knowing Charlie has you two... it makes this a little easier." Lisa said softly.

Tim, standing at the foot of the bed, nodded respectfully, "We're happy to help. Charlie's a good kid. He deserves the best."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked between the two of you.

"I've made peace with what's coming. Knowing my son won't be alone, that he has you both... I can go in peace. Thank you."

You squeezed her hand gently, your heart aching at her words. "We'll take care of him. You have our word."

The phone rang late one night, jarring you awake. Groggily, you reached for it, your heart dropping as you saw Charlie's name on the screen.

"Charlie?" you answered, your voice thick with sleep and concern.

"Y/N... it's Mom. She's... she's..." he said, his voice breaking.

You sat up, your heart aching. "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry. Tim and I are on our way, okay?"

Tim is already moving, grabbing his keys and your jackets. "Let's go."

The drive to the hospital was silent, the weight of the news heavy in the air. When you arrived, you rushed through the hospital corridors, finding Charlie sitting alone in the waiting area, his face pale and eyes red from crying.

"Charlie," you called softly, moving towards him with Tim close behind.

He looked up, his face crumpling with relief and grief at the sight of you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, your heart breaking for the young boy.

"We're so sorry," you whispered, holding him close. "We're here for you."

Tim knelt down beside you, placing a comforting hand on Charlie's back. "I'm so sorry, kid," he said, "We're going to get through this together, okay?"

Tim exchanged a glance with you, silently communicating his thoughts. He then turned back to Charlie, "How about you come home with us tonight? Dinner's ready, you can get some rest. We'll come back in the morning."

Charlie looked between the two of you, uncertainty and exhaustion evident in his eyes. "I don't want to leave her," he said, his voice trembling.

"We get that," you replied softly. "But we want you to be safe and taken care of. We'll come back first thing in the morning. Your mom would want you to take care of yourself too."

Tim nodded, "She's right, Charlie. It's important you stay strong and healthy. We’ll call the school in the morning and let them know you’ll be taking a few days off."

Charlie hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay," he whispered, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his grief. "Thank you."

The days turned into weeks, and Charlie had become a permanent fixture in your home. His presence brought a sense of warmth and life to the house, despite the somber circumstances that had brought him there.

You and Tim did everything you could to make him feel welcome and loved, supporting him through the funeral and the tough days that followed.

"Hey, Charlie, want to help me with dinner?" you called out one evening, poking your head into the guest room that slowly turned into his own.

Charlie looked up from his homework, "Sure. I'll be right there."

As he joined you in the kitchen, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride watching him chop vegetables.

"You're getting pretty good at this," you remarked, handing him a bowl to mix the ingredients.

He grinned, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Thanks. Tim's been showing me some tricks."

Your boyfriend wandered into the kitchen just then, a tired but contented smile on his face. "Smells good in here," he commented, leaning against the counter.

You smiled back at him, a warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him. "Charlie's been a big help," you said, nodding towards the boy beside you.

Tim's smile widened, and he ruffled Charlie's hair affectionately. "Good job, buddy," he said proudly.

Later that evening, as you and Tim sat together on the couch, you couldn't shake the thought that Charlie's stay with you might be more permanent than originally planned. You turned to Tim, the question weighing heavily on your mind.

"What's going to happen to Charlie?"

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Well, he's a minor, so he'll probably be put into foster care," he explained, his expression grim.

You frowned, the thought of Charlie being sent to a foster home unsettling. "But he's been through so much already," you protested. "He shouldn't have to go through even more trouble."

Tim nodded in agreement, his brow furrowing, "I already talked to Social Services," he admitted. "They said the judge will likely consider foster care over emancipation."

You chewed your lip, mulling over his words. "What if... what if we fostered him?" you suggested tentatively.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at you, his expression unreadable. "Foster him?" he repeated, as if trying the idea on for size.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "Yeah. We've been with him through everything, Tim. We care about him. What do you think?"

He contemplated for a moment, his gaze distant. Then, to your surprise, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You know what? That's not a bad idea," he admitted.

You couldn't help but smile, "Timothy, I never thought I'd see the day when you wanted to foster a teenager," you teased, nudging him playfully.

Tim rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "Hey, I have a heart, you know," he replied, his tone gruff but affectionate.

You laughed, leaning in closer to him. "I know," you said softly, reaching for his hand. "And it's one of the things I love most about you."

His expression softened, his gaze warm as he looked at you. "I see Charlie as a son I always wanted," he admitted, "And I think we can give him a good home."

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "I think so too," you agreed, feeling a swell of gratitude and love for the man sitting beside you.

Tim leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll talk to Grey and Luna in the morning," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Luna can help us with the process of becoming foster parents."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. Leaning into his embrace, Tim held you close, his arms strong and reassuring.

Next morning, as the three of you gathered around the table for breakfast, an unspoken tension filled the air. Tim focused on flipping pancakes, while you tried to find the right words to broach the subject with Charlie. The smell of fresh coffee and syrup filled the kitchen, but the comforting scents did little to ease the anxiety gnawing at you.

"We wanted to talk to you about something," you began, meeting Charlie's gaze across the table. Your voice was calm, but your heart raced.

Charlie nodded, his expression guarded. "Okay," he said softly, his tone wary.

"You've been staying here for a week now, and..." you trailed off, searching for the right words.

"And you want me to go," Charlie interjected, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I bothered you enough."

Tim turned off the stove and wiped his hands on a dish towel before stepping over to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning forward with a serious expression. He placed a hand on your back and another on Charlie's shoulder.

"No, buddy," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "We want you to stay here with us."

Charlie looked at both of you, surprise and confusion flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"We know how hard this is for you," you continued softly. "Losing your mom... it's not something anyone should go through alone. We want to help you, Charlie. We want you to finish high school, have a good future."

"We know the foster care system can be rough," Tim said, his gaze steady on Charlie. "And legally, you'd be put into a foster home. But we want to be those foster parents. If you want that too."

Charlie's expression hardened, his grief morphing into anger. "Why do you even care?" he snapped. "You don't know me. You think you can just replace my mom?"

"We're not trying to replace anyone," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We just want to help."

"Help?" Charlie scoffed, "You think I'm just some kid you can take pity on?" he spat, his voice laced with bitterness.

Tim's jaw clenched, his expression tight with frustration. "That's not what we think, kid," he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "We care about you."

But Charlie wasn't listening. He pushed his chair back abruptly, the screech of metal against tile echoing through the room. "I don't need your help," he said bitterly, his tone final. "I can take care of myself."

You watched helplessly as Charlie stormed out of the house, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized that your efforts had been in vain. You turned to Tim, your eyes pleading for understanding.

Tim placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, pulling you into a tight embrace. "We tried," he said softly, his voice filled with sorrow. "We did everything we could."

You nodded, unable to find the words to express your grief. The loss of Charlie felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, suffocating you with its intensity. You buried your face in Tim's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

"I thought we could help him," you whispered.

His hand moved up to stroke your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I know," he said softly. "I know."

As Tim prepared to leave for work, you stood in the hallway, your heart heavy with the weight of the morning's events. He turned to face you, his expression tender and filled with understanding.

"Hey..." you called out.

Tim stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. "I know," he said simply, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. "I'll keep an eye on him."

You clung to him, finding solace in his strength. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tim pulled back slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "We'll figure this out."

Weeks passed, and Charlie found himself shuffled from one foster family to another, never quite fitting in. Each new home brought fresh disappointment and the deepening sense that he didn't belong anywhere.

You and Tim dedicated yourselves to the process of becoming foster parents. The paperwork was extensive and the wait felt endless, but you both knew it was worth it.

Tim reached out to his ex-girlfriend Rachel—who worked for CPS — and with her help, he managed to keep an eye on Charlie's progress. What he saw only confirmed his fears: Charlie was not adjusting well to his new life.

"How's Charlie doing?" Lucy asked, breaking the comfortable silence. "And how's Y/N holding up with everything?"

Tim tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road. "Not great," he admitted. "When we told Charlie about the foster care system and that we wanted to be his foster parents, he didn't take it well. He's been bouncing from one family to another, and none of them seem to be a good fit for him."

"He'll come around," she said softly. "Whether you like to admit it or not, the kid has a place under your skin and vice versa. He's just hurting right now. He'll come back asking for help when he's ready."

"Yeah, tell that to Y/N. Maybe she'll listen to you." Tim sighed, a heavy sound filled with frustration and worry. "I don't like seeing her so sad because of some puppy. I don't want to tell her 'I told you so,' but I did tell her it might not be a good idea to get involved with him."

Lucy gave him a sympathetic smile. "Tamara did the same, and now she's the best roommate I've ever had."

Tim chuckled softly, "Jackson would disagree with you."

"Bradford, someone's asking for you at the front desk."

Grey approached them as soon as they walked back into the station. Tim watched Lucy process the suspect before he headed out to meet his visitor. With a nod of acknowledgment, he made his way to the front desk, his steps quick and purposeful.

Tim's heart skipped a beat when he saw Charlie standing there, his posture tense and his expression uncertain. Charlie stood up quickly as Tim approached, his eyes avoiding Tim's gaze.

"Officer Bradford," Charlie began, his voice trembling. "I owe you an apology. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you and Y/N. I'm sorry and I'm sorry for running away.

Tim's expression softened, his heart going out to the troubled teenager before him.

"Charlie," he said gently, his voice carrying a note of compassion. "It's just Tim."

The boy's eyes flickered with surprise, a hint of relief washing over him.

"Tim," he echoed softly.

Tim placed a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder, the gesture conveying more than words ever could.

"Kid, I understand," he said,"We all have our moments. But you're not alone in this."

Charlie's gaze dropped, his guilt weighing heavily on him. "I'm just so tired of feeling like a screw-up," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to do better."

Tim nodded understandingly, his grip on his shoulder tightening ever so slightly. "You can, Charlie," he said firmly, his voice brimming with conviction. "But you're right, there's someone else you need to apologize to."

Charlie's breath caught in his throat, the weight of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders. "Y/N," he whispered, the name a painful reminder of the hurt he had caused.

Tim nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Y/N cares about you, Charlie," he said, his voice filled with reassurance. "We both do. And we're not giving up on you."

A flicker of hope ignited in Charlie's eyes, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You still want to help me?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Tim returned the smile, a sense of resolve settling over him. "We're not here to judge you. We want to help you. If you're willing to put in the effort, we'll be there every step of the way."

Charlie looked up at Tim, his eyes shimmering with gratitude and hope. "Thank you," he whispered, "Thank you for not giving up on me. I... I would be beyond grateful if you still want to help me. If you don't hate me."

"We don't hate you, Charlie," he said firmly, "And we're not going anywhere."

The familiar scent of your cooking filled the room, providing a sense of comfort and normalcy. As your boyfriend and Charlie stepped inside, Tim saw you setting up the table for dinner, arranging two sets of everything with meticulous care. The clinking of plates and silverware was a soothing, everyday sound that contrasted with the emotional whirlwind outside.

"Hey, baby," Tim greeted softly, his voice carrying the warmth of a long day finally coming to an end.

He walked over to you and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. You leaned into the kiss, savoring the brief moment of connection. The touch of his lips was reassuring, grounding you in the present.

Tim then turned his attention to the table and added, "You might want to make three of that."

You looked up, curiosity in your eyes. "Who's joining us?" you asked, looking at Tim's expression for clues.

Tim didn't answer immediately but instead pointed to the door where Charlie stood hesitantly, his posture tense and uncertain. Your face fell, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked back and forth between Charlie and Tim, trying to process what was happening. The emotional impact of seeing Charlie there, vulnerable and seeking solace, hit you like a wave.

You walked towards Charlie, your heart pounding in your chest. Each step felt heavy with the weight of the past weeks. As you reached him, you enveloped him in a warm, tight hug, your arms wrapping around him protectively.

"It's so good to see you, Charlie." You could feel Charlie's shoulders relax a little under your touch. "Come on, let's eat before it gets cold."

You settled at the table, and Charlie's face lit up at the sight of your delicious food. He took a deep breath, the familiar aromas bringing a sense of peace.

"I missed this so much." The words seemed to break the ice, melting some of the tension in the room.

"You're welcome here whenever you want," you replied warmly, your eyes shining with kindness. You reached across the table, gently squeezing his hand.

"Or," Tim interjected, "you can just stay here with us."

"Tim..." you began, surprised by his straightforwardness. You turned to him, eyes wide with shock and a hint of hope.

"I'd love that," Charlie said, cutting through your hesitation with a hopeful smile.

"What?" you asked, stunned.

"Look, Y/N, I'm so sorry for snapping at you," Charlie confessed, his voice sincere and eyes downcast. "I shouldn't have said those things to you. After everything you've done for me, you deserve better." His voice wavered with the weight of his regret.

You gently took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Oh, sweetheart. You had a rough time, and I understand that. We understand that. We're here if you need to talk, whenever you're ready."

Charlie took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Actually, I was hoping I could stay here with you guys. Tim told me about the fostering process, and I was hoping it was still a thing."

You looked at Tim, your eyes wide with shock and hope. When he smiled and nodded, a wide smile spread across your face.

"Yes, of course."

Charlie hugged you tightly, and you felt his relief and gratitude in the embrace. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you held him, your heart swelling with emotion. The warmth of the hug conveyed all the unsaid words and feelings.

Tim cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. "Actually," he said, "I was thinking adoption would be a better option."

"Are you serious?" you asked, your voice filled with disbelief, turning to look at Tim with wide eyes.

"Yes," Tim confirmed, reaching into his pocket.

You watched him with bated breath as he pulled out a small box. Your eyes searched his for answers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"What's this? Tim? What are you doing?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Tim took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. "I thought maybe it was best all three of us to share the same last name. I never imagined adopting a teenager, especially not one I arrested. But you, baby, you make me want to be a better man. And I can't do any of this without you. You showed me the bright side of this world, and you light up my life. Will you marry me? Because this kid's life is in your hands, and I don't want to do this without you 100% in."

"Yes, Tim. Oh, God, yes!" you exclaimed, tears of joy streaming down your face as Tim slipped the ring onto your finger and the touch of the cool metal sent a shiver down your spine.

"You're such a jerk," you teased, laughing through your tears as you playfully swatted his arm. "You almost ruined a beautiful moment."

"I just made sure you'd say yes," Tim retorted with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. His hand lingered on your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear.

Charlie grinned, the tension easing as he watched the exchange. "Do I need to call you mom and dad or something?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, no, no," you laughed, shaking your head. "I'm too young to be called a mom. But if you want to..."

"I think I'm good," Charlie said, smiling with a mix of relief and happiness.

"But you can call me Officer Bradford," Tim added, his tone teasingly gruff as he gave Charlie a playful nudge.

"Oh, stop it. Leave the kid alone," you said, nudging Tim back. "He's joking, Charlie. You need to get used to his bad jokes."

Tim grumbled, "You should be glad I'm not into dad jokes like Nolan."

"And that's why you should never call him dad," you quipped to Charlie with a grin.

"Roger that," Charlie responded, chuckling as he settled back into his seat.

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vasito-de-leche · 9 months ago

Text

;R1999 - Self-Aware AU

Headcanons about an Alternate Universe in which everyone knows they're living inside a videogame. However, Vertin is the only one aware of the entity inhabiting her own mind, the real conductor - the "Player".

this is one of my favorite AUs to slap on whatever media I'm into so here we are <3 not sure if anyone's done this already, but PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE link me if you've seen any other ppl write for this AU! this one and any actor AUs are my absolute fave

this is just a word vomit introduction for fun, to get the basic ideas out of my head, so I can start writing for characters individually!

Okay, okay! First of all, some context for the AU before I go deranged overexplaining my HCs!

Aside from the "Storm", there is something else that haunts the people of this world: the fact that their lives are nothing but a simulacrum, part of a game.

The requirements to obtain this "self-awareness" is unknown. Those within the Foundation believe it's related to their respective "roles", that only the main and relevant characters are given the chance to fully open their eyes to the truth. Those within Manus Vindictae claim that one must be strong enough to break through the fog of complacency and their assigned scripts, to have their full potential unleashed and obtain true liberation. Either way, similar to the "Storm", this is a well-kept secret for a very good reason - everyone wants to have the upperhand.

There is one outlier to this whole system. Vertin is not only aware of the truth of this world, but also of her duty as the eyes and hands of the "Player". She must experience it all for their sake. Or rather, whatever she experiences will be the story that the Player will see.

This applies to her suitcase, the place where the Player's influence increases tenfold, bending everything and everyone to their will through her own body and voice. The longer one stays within her suitcase - or within her general vicinity - the easier it is for them to become self-aware.

How does one become "self-aware" and what does it entail?

The requirements and the catalyst for a character to become self-aware are still a mystery. But that's mostly because I specifically wanted to keep them as vague as possible, to allow some flexibility for NPCs and other characters outside of Vertin's suitcase.

The whole process of gaining sentience or self-awareness is mostly described as waking up from a nightmare, or a very, very realistic dream. It's like a switch, something that happens in a second without any warnings whatsoever.

I like to think that most of the people who wake up are easy to spot, because it's a jarring experience and panicking is the most normal reaction - but that they're often taken care of by the Foundation or recruited by Manus Vindictae.

The levels of awareness also depend heavily on each individual - some only know that nothing is truly real, that everything they've done up until that point was just a carefully scripted lie, the most basic realization. Others can understand the rules that govern this game and use them to their advantage, either through observation and study or just inherently.

Overall, the experience of being sentient varies as well, with some describing a disconnect from their body, while others feel exactly the opposite. Again, keeping it pretty vague so that people can fill in with their own ideas!

I'll talk about Vertin's case in detail when we get to her specific bullet point, but the same way the Player is able to experience the "story" through her eyes, she's able to see the same things they do - this includes the UI, the menus and everything you can interact with in-game.

Vertin as a character and a vessel for the Player.

The most common thing I've seen in self-aware AUs in my years of fandom is to turn the player stand-in (the main character that serves for the player to experience the story through and/or project onto, depending on the genre of the game) into an obstacle, one that keeps the characters from truly interacting with the Player, capital P.

The second most common thing I've seen is to simply ignore the existence of this player stand-in and replace it with the Player themself, either through isekai methods or thanks to the customization the game allows, etc etc.

When it comes to Vertin in this AU, I know I want her to retain her role as the center of everything, instead of being sidelined by the Player. She's THE Timekeeper, after all.

There's still some details I'm trying to iron out, like whether she's always been self-aware or if she became self-aware at some point during her childhood at the St. Pavlov Foundation. But I like to think that her relationship to the Player is a parallel to her immunity to the "Storm" - neither of these two things are inherently good nor bad. Surviving the "Storm" is helpful, sure, but it's painful for her. Having an entity like the "Player" haunting her is scary, sure, but it can be an advantage. It's a matter of how she utilizes the assets she was given, since her adaptability and determination are big aspects of her character. Vertin makes up for her mediocre arcane skills with unconventional plans and strategies.

But this isn't to say that Vertin isn't affected by the presence of the Player. Ironically, she's the one person whose freedom is limited. During battles, her skills and Tuning are available to you, they can also prove to be vital to win a fight, but in the end you're still the one calling the shots and choosing when her friends get to attack. You're the one choosing the layout of the Wilderness. You're the one picking which one of her friends deserves to become stronger.

In the last bullet point I mentioned that some characters can understand the rules of the game - Vertin is the most extreme case, as she can see the same UI as you do. She learns the way you like to fight your battles, your own strategies, she can see this and more.

Overall it's a very complex dynamic. It's not as easy as saying that she likes or dislikes you, that she considers you a friend or foe. You're part of her, you influence each other in many aspects and are stuck together for reasons she can't even fathom. While you may be able to read her thoughts most of the time, she becomes invisible once you enter the suitcase - the main menu of the game. Sure, the character you selected to greet you every day is actually talking to her, not you, but she's out of your view and therefore, out of our range. That's when Vertin wonders the sort of person that you are, if you care about her friends as much as she does. Are you playing just to be entertained? Are you invested in these events? Will you be there for her until the end of her story?

Another detail I like to think about is that Vertin is the only one who knows your name. Because at the very beginning, you were asked to input a name and she was there.

[screenshot was taken from this video, since it's the first one I could find that showed this specific part of the game lol]

Well, "your name" not quite right - she knows that whatever you wrote there is the name linked to your account, at least. And that's the name she knows you as.

Those who take residence in Vertin's suitcase or spend prolonged amounts of time with her, growing closer to her and all, end up becoming self-aware. This is a direct side-effect of your presence.

I like to think that characters who reach the 100% Bond can begin to sense the Player, to see the world in a similar way as Vertin does. Maybe even feel their presence EXACTLY like Vertin does whenever there's a battle. There is someone else on the other side of this screen, the fourth wall, who watches over them.

To some, it's hard to differentiate Vertin from the Player, as they just go hand in hand - but Sonetto, for example, has the easiest time telling the two apart.

On the subject of freedom and acting out of script.

The Foundation, Manus Vindictae, Laplace... It doesn't matter if they're self-aware and acting outside of what their script dictates, because they're missing one key ingredient: you. No one else but Vertin and her group knows about your existence, after all.

They don't know that the only story that matters is the one that Vertin is part of. The one that the Player gets to see and read and experience. And because the game gives you a very limited view into the lives of these characters, you don't know what neither Arcana nor Constantine do behind the scenes. You and Vertin don't see that, therefore, it never truly mattered.

Those most likely to start "acting out" are the troublemakers within Vertin's suitcase. Characters who are too curious for their own good, who are more susceptible to supernatural entities, who are just too impulsive - they would start to test the limits and see how far they can go, how much they can interact with the Player. Can the game be broken should they end up shattering the fourth wall? Is there a way for the Player to communicate with them? What will happen to Vertin?

I like to think that Vertin probably supports this, as she's rather curious herself, prone to questioning everything. She would also like to learn more about the Player, to truly tear into the game and see the full extent of your influence and her freedom.

Sometimes, Regulus and X will change their usual voicelines, just enough to be noticeable if one pays enough attention. Characters like Sotheby or Leilani might slip up and address the Player, rather than Vertin. Lilya, Pavia, Bkornblume have new animations and different expressions, ones you've never seen before - they stare ahead, as if searching for something, and then smirk or hum to themselves, deep in thought, like they realized something you're not privy of.

Sometimes, if you leave them as your selected assistant on the main menu, you can catch them muttering to themselves - idle quotes you never heard enough, about the outside world. Diggers does this the most, it's almost embarassing how easy it is to catch him talking nonsense, followed by Sonetto. If you leave Medicine Pocket alone for too long, you might come back to a screen covered in weird scratch marks.

On the subject of these characters being curious about the outside world and all, I think that a good chunk of them are generally content with the way things are?

We have to remember that in-universe, they're arcanists displaced from their respective eras. Their best chance at surviving is siding with Vertin, and if Vertin is content with the way things are, then there's no point in trying to disrupt what they have right now. They're curious enough to prod, but only as far as Vertin allows it.

And I think that's it for the word vomit!

There are some details I didn't know where to fit in, like the possibility of the fourth wall slowly dissipating the more time the Player invests in the game, leading to some characters being able to directly hear you if you talk while playing and whatnot. Or what would happen should someone outside of Vertin's suitcase figure out the existence of the Player, let alone interact with you in some way.

Or the concept of death being meaningless, unless it was pre-established by the game itself.

In Borderlands, there's this game mechanic where you can just be revived over and over and pay a percentage of your money as a fee, even though the canon that's established is that you play through the whole story without dying a SINGLE time - because the revival mechanics aren't canon. There's the divide between story and gameplay. That's pretty much the standard. But what about the deaths in battles in R1999? The amount of times I died to 1.3's UTTU's Flash Gathering is insane. How do self-aware characters feel about this, now that they know that they're bound to die over and over and be brought back because you have to do your Pneuma Analysis or reach the final stage of Limbo?

But that's pretty much it for now, I think I got most thoughts out of my system! Thank you for reading!

#reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #self aware au #'mod six what are you going to do with this AU?'#probably write more reader inserts for FMN and pavia lmfao #i just wanted it out of my brain and onto a post #i like to think about things in-depth but thats it #and just like the hanahaki nsr au. feel free to fuck around with this concept! discuss it or make up your own HCs!#tag me if you wanna bc i love to read. but no need to credit me

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