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satellite-evans · 4 months

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Drunk in love

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: When their wives get drunk, it is up to the Bridgerton brothers to take care of them ;)

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Kate and reader are drunk lol, just pure fluff

A/N:

this is just something silly I had in my mind lol enjoy

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The Bridgerton household was steeped in the soft glow of the evening, and in the library, two brothers sat comfortably. Benedict Bridgerton leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips as he listened to Anthony's latest tirade about the complexities of running the family estate. The occasional crackle of the fire punctuated Anthony’s words, creating a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

"It's all well and good for you, Benedict," Anthony was saying, "to prance about with your paints and canvases. But someone has to keep this family afloat."

Benedict chuckled, shaking his head. "You take life far too seriously, Anthony. One day, you'll realize there's more to it than ledgers and land."

Before Anthony could retort, a burst of laughter erupted from the drawing room, loud enough to make both men pause. They exchanged curious glances, and without a word, rose to investigate the source of the commotion.

As they approached the drawing room, the laughter grew louder and more infectious. Pushing the door open, they were met with a sight that brought simultaneous smiles and sighs to their faces. There, amidst a sea of discarded shawls and half-empty wine glasses, were their wives: Y/N and Kate, draped over the settee in fits of giggles.

"My love," Benedict began, striding over to Y/N, who looked up at him with sparkling, mischievous eyes.

"Ben!" Y/N exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "Have you come to join our party?"

Anthony moved to Kate, who was similarly animated, her cheeks flushed with wine. "What on earth is going on here?" he asked, unable to keep a smile from his lips.

"We were just... having a bit of fun," Kate replied, her words slightly slurred. "Isn't that right, Y/N?"

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, her grip on Benedict tightening. "Yes! And you should have been here, Benedict. We were planning all sorts of adventures!"

Benedict exchanged a knowing look with Anthony. "It's getting late," he said gently. "Perhaps it's time to retire for the night before we wake the whole household."

"But we’re not tired!" Kate protested, though she yawned right after.

"Yes!" Y/N said eagerly. " We have work to do. We need to save the pirates!"

Benedict looked at Anthony with a confused look on his face, not understanding a word his wife is saying.

"The pirates? What pirates?" He asked his wife.

"Silly Benedict, the pirates that got captured of course! If we don't help them they will die or worse, catch a cold." Kate said to her brother-in-law while slurring the words, indicating that the night was surely over for the 2 ladies.

With a mixture of gentle coaxing and persuasive charm, Benedict and Anthony managed to guide their wives towards the staircase, their efforts accompanied by more giggles and shushing noises. Y/N and Kate were like a pair of mischievous schoolgirls, clutching each other for support as they swayed precariously.

"Shhh, we must be quiet!" Kate whispered loudly, her finger pressed to Y/N's lips.

"Yes, shhh!" Y/N echoed, though her laughter threatened to spill over.

Benedict exchanged an amused glance with Anthony. "Easier said than done," he muttered, placing a steadying hand on Y/N's waist.

The trek upstairs was a comedic parade of whispered laughter and shuffling feet. Y/N, in her drunken state, decided it was a brilliant idea to try walking on her tiptoes to avoid making noise. She stumbled, her giggles turning into a high-pitched squeal as Benedict caught her just in time.

"My hero," she declared, leaning heavily against him.

"Always," Benedict replied, his voice filled with warmth.

Meanwhile, Anthony had his hands full with Kate, who seemed determined to recount an elaborate and entirely fictitious tale about their latest adventure. "And then the pirate said, 'No, it's my treasure!' and I told him, 'You can have it, but only if you dance a jig!'"

Anthony shook his head, suppressing his laughter. "Let's get you to bed, love. You can tell me the rest of the story tomorrow."

As they finally reached the top of the stairs, the brothers carefully navigated their wives down the hall to their respective bedrooms. Y/N clung to Benedict, her fingers playing with the buttons of his shirt.

"Do you know what we should do, Ben?" she whispered, her voice conspiratorial. "We should have our own little party. Just you and me."

Benedict raised an eyebrow, amused. "Is that so?"

Y/N nodded, her movements exaggerated by the effects of the wine. "Yes. And I have... ideas." She bit her lip, trying to look sexy for her husband but failing miserably.

Benedict couldn't help but laugh softly at her earnest expression. "I'm sure you do, darling. But I think you might regret them in the morning."

She pouted, leaning in closer. "You're laughing at me," she accused, though her own lips twitched upwards.

"Never," Benedict said, kissing her forehead. "I just find you utterly adorable."

Y/N’s pout deepened. "I’m trying to seduce you, Benedict Bridgerton, and you’re laughing."

Benedict wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "And I love you for it," he murmured. "But you’re far too drunk to remember this tomorrow."

Y/N huffed, but her eyelids were already drooping. "Fine. But you owe me, mister."

"I’ll gladly pay my dues," he promised, tucking her under the covers, making sure she was comfortable.

Once the bedroom doors softly clicked shut behind them, Benedict and Anthony exchanged amused glances, their expressions a mix of fond exasperation and lingering mirth.

Anthony let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "Well, that was certainly an eventful evening."

Benedict grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Indeed. I never knew Y/N had such a penchant for dramatic declarations."

"And Kate," Anthony added with a raised eyebrow, "tyring to save pirates? I wonder where she comes up with these ideas."

Benedict chuckled softly, moving to pour himself a glass of water. "It’s all part of their charm, I suppose. Makes life interesting."

Anthony nodded thoughtfully, leaning against the dresser. "Indeed it does. They certainly keep us on our toes."

Silence settled between them for a moment, the sounds of the quiet house filling the space. Benedict took a sip of water, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at Anthony. "At least they provided us with some entertainment."

Anthony grinned, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To our adventurous wives and the mornings after."

Benedict laughed, clinking his glass against Anthony's. "May we always be prepared for their antics."

The next morning, the dining room was a scene of quiet activity as the Bridgerton family gathered for breakfast. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the table laden with a variety of morning fare. Benedict and Anthony were already seated, exchanging knowing glances as they sipped their coffee.

"Good morning," Anthony greeted with a wry smile, his voice a bit too cheerful as Kate and Y/N finally made their way downstairs. The two women looked thoroughly sheepish, their faces pale and their movements slow, battling clear signs of a hangover.

Kate, with a hand on her throbbing head, groaned softly as she took her seat. "Please. Not so loud, Anthony," she muttered, reaching for a slice of toast but ultimately settling for a glass of water.

Y/N, trailing slightly behind, sat down next to Benedict, doing her best to avoid his amused gaze. "Good morning," she mumbled, her voice hoarse, reaching for a cup of tea as if it were a lifeline.

Benedict leaned over, a smirk playing on his lips as he whispered in her ear, "How’s your head, my love?"

She shot him a sideways glance, her cheeks coloring. "Let’s not talk about it," she replied, taking a tentative sip of her tea.

"But you were quite the charming seductress last night," Benedict teased gently, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Y/N buried her face in her hands, groaning softly. "I’m never drinking that much again."

At the other end of the table, Kate was having a similar conversation with Anthony. "Honestly, I can't remember the last time I felt this awful," she confessed, gingerly rubbing her temples.

Anthony chuckled, passing her a plate of fruit. "Perhaps next time you’ll heed my warnings about overindulgence."

Kate shot him a baleful look, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "Don’t be smug, Anthony. It’s not becoming."

"Who, me? Never," Anthony replied with a wink, earning a soft laugh from Kate despite her discomfort.

As the morning continued, the initial awkwardness began to fade, replaced by the comforting normalcy of family life. Eloise and Colin entered the room, their curiosity piqued by the unusual quietness of their typically lively sisters-in-law.

"Good morning," Eloise said brightly, her keen eyes darting between Kate and Y/N. "You two look like you’ve been through the wars."

"Something like that," Y/N muttered, managing a small, embarrassed smile.

Colin, always one for humor, grinned broadly. "Did we miss an adventure last night?"

"Let’s just say it was a night to remember," Benedict replied, his eyes meeting Y/N’s with a tender affection that spoke volumes.

Eloise raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do tell."

"Another time, perhaps," Y/N said quickly, the color rising in her cheeks again.

As the conversation flowed around the table, the bonds of love and laughter only grew stronger. Despite their mortification, Y/N and Kate couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for their husbands’ gentle teasing and unwavering support.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Benedict asked Y/N, his tone light but with a hint of curiosity.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. "Bits and pieces," she admitted. "I remember laughing a lot. And I think I tried to..." She trailed off, her cheeks flushing.

Benedict chuckled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You were very determined to have a private party," he said, his eyes twinkling. "It was quite the spectacle."

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I’m so embarrassed."

"Don't be," Benedict said softly, leaning closer. "I love seeing every side of you, even the tipsy, adventurous one."

At the other end of the table, Kate was facing a similar interrogation. "So, what exactly were you and Y/N plotting in the drawing room?" Anthony asked, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

Kate looked mortified, her face pale except for the flush of her cheeks. "I think we were planning an expedition to find some pirate treasure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Or something equally ridiculous."

Anthony laughed, the sound rich and warm. "You certainly had quite the adventure in mind. Perhaps we should consider a career change?"

"Very funny," Kate muttered, though she couldn’t help but smile at his good-natured teasing.

The rest of the family, picking up on the mood, joined in the light-hearted banter. Colin leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "It seems our sisters-in-law have a penchant for late-night escapades. We'll have to keep an eye on them."

Eloise, never one to miss a chance to tease, added, "I think it’s wonderful. We could use more excitement around here. Perhaps next time, I'll join in the fun."

"Absolutely not," Anthony interjected firmly, though his smile betrayed his true feelings. "Two tipsy adventurers are quite enough."

Amidst the laughter and teasing, the lingering embarrassment began to fade. Y/N and Kate, though still feeling the effects of their overindulgence, found themselves relaxing, their initial mortification replaced by a growing sense of comfort. The warmth and acceptance from their family wrapped around them like a cozy blanket, reinforcing the love that bound them all together.

#benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton family #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton season 3 #anthony bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #colin bridgerton #kate sharma #anthony x kate

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gojosatorubrainrot · 4 months

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Scars don't define you💫

Summary: Gojo starts to feel insecure about your love for him because of his scars

Feat: Gojo Satoru x reader

Content: fluff, mentions of Gojo vs Sukuna fight, reassuring, body insecurities, husband!Gojo x Wife!Reader. Ch 261 doesn't exist lol

Wc: 1121

Author's note: Hi!! I've never thought I will ever be doing this but here we are! Encouraged by my gojo friends in discord to continue this drabble🥰 Sorry in advanced for my poor grammar, English is not my first language 🫡

The Shinjuku incident meant a reborn for the the strongest sorcerer, and you, his wife as well. You almost lost the love of your life by the hands of the King of Curses. At first, you thought everything was over when you saw him laying down on the floor, his lifeless body starting to be covered by the heavy snow storm that had began to fall minutes earlier.

You felt useless, after all, you were a non sorcerer, so,as a civilian, you didn't to have another choice than staying where Shoko and the others were watching the battle being broadcasted.

But its been a long time since that jumpscare and you thanked every existent God and also Shoko for bringing your reason of living back to your arms.

Satoru and you both were laying in bed together, you are running your fingers along his scarred face; each fingertips of yours feeling every single injury of his skin.

As you continue with your doing,he closes his eyes at the softness of your sweet touch, at first, he enjoys it a lot, he always loved the way you did it, always being careful as if he was a glass meant to break, but fear set up on his mind;he thought you hated his scars, that you despise them and those marks ruined his pretty face, that you wouldn't love him anymore and, eventually, you would leave him alone as everyone did during his life, but this time, he wouldn't have a reason of living because you are his everything.

He doesn't even want to think how a life without in it would be, how alone he would feel again just like he did after Suguru's departure.

When that event occurred, when he was ordered to kill his best friend, he has never felt so useless as a sorcerer, but most of all, as a human being, so that was the reason he chose to stay alone for the rest of his days, to prevent someone from getting hurt by the mere fact of being involved with him. That was his idea until he met you at his favorite kikufuku store. He didn't believe in love at the first sight until he met you nor how does it feel to be in love until you.

you, his everything

He was afraid of losing you again, but now it was because of his appearance, he hated those scars because that meant you won't call him pretty angel or pretty face ever again. On the other hand, they were his reminder of a second opportunity, an opportunity he would take advantage of. His second chance to make things right and spend as much time as he could with you: not spending nights working or on mission trips, only with you, his home.

Now he is debating if telling you or not about his insecurity with his scarred skin, because he thinks you would laugh at this and ignore him, but call him silly for thinking that.

As he thinks about that, he sits up, preparing to get his shirt on. You can see how the mood changed, how an intimate moment filled with love and adoration became one filled with insecurities and non spoken words. He is looking for his shirt to put it on and leave the bedroom towards the balcony, so he can spare his mind off a little bit.

You wonder why he was feeling troubled and why he decided to ignore you and not talking with you as he has always done before. You are hesitant about ask him or not, you always wanted to give Satoru his space, you always respected that because after some time, he will come to you and tell you everything between thousands and thousands sorry for not telling you before.

All you can see now is his scarred back, and your intuition is screaming at you to do something so he could open himself up to you. After few seconds, an idea popped up in your mind; while satoru has his head between his hands, you approached to him slowly trying to not get noticed.

Satoru, who was lost in thoughts, suddenly felt your plump and soft lips along his scared back, giving it small pecs and smooches, replacing your lips with your small fingers tracing every single scar. He didn't understand what you were doing so he let you do so. Suddenly,he feels something he has only felt with you and you only: loved, adored, cherished, he was seen as a human, not a pretty face as he has been called few times, the strongest weapon for the jujutsu society, he was Satoru Gojo for you, your Toru.

He turned his head to where you were tracing your fingers and stared at you: you were focused and determined to make him feel alive again.

His small chuckle made you look up and meet those blue eyes you fell in love with many years ago;

"Hi sweets" he whispered without looking away" What are you doing?"

"Hi Toru" you giggled at that nickname he gave you only when you both were in an intimate moment "Nothing, just admiring your beauty" you responded never looking away from his mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Nothing about me is beautiful, princess" he said defeated. "Look at me" he pointed at his scarred skin, despising it, hating it.

"I'm looking at you, Toru. I'm always looking at you and all I see it's the prettiest, the most caring, loving man that I've ever met" you said putting his face in between your hands "I love you,Toru. If you ever think those scars will stop me from loving you, I must tell you don't me well. These scars are telling me that you are here" you give him a kiss in the tip of his pinky nose "alive, with me in our home"

After yours words, Satoru’s eyes immediately fill with tears, but before you notice, he closes his eyes to stop them and leans his head to your warm and reassuring touch, a warm feeling inside his chest arises.

He feels so grateful with you, you are his everything.You stopped caressing him at the moment he opens his eyes, blue like the ocean itself "I love you, angel" he says at the same time you started caressing the scar across his cheek.

"I love you too, Satoru and remember that you can tell me any trouble or inconvenience you are living through, okay? I'll always love you until my last breath" you said finishing the sentence with a quick kiss, which is immediately reciprocated

With this Satoru knew that he would never feel alone again.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk manga #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff

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judesprincess · 2 months

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fuffly alphabet – Jude Bellingham

note: hii babes, how are you? here im again hehe. an anon asked me for a fuffly alphabet so here it is... just remembering that English is not my first language, so please ignore the grammar and spelling mistakes... also, please let me know if you like it or not! kisses 💋

just a reminder that this is just imaginary and i don't know jude bellingham so i don't know what he's really like

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

you see, jude is without a doubt an affectionate man, but for me (I might be crazy), he might have a little trouble showing it (at the beginning of the relationship); I feel like it's harder for him to show affection romantically than when it comes to family/friends

but of course, have no doubt that as your relationship progresses, that man will have no qualms about showing how affectionate he can be at all times

b = best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

it would definitely be something jude would appreciate a lot. Being an extremely famous soccer player has its advantages, but at the same time it brings with it a lot of self-interested people who don't really care about him and just want fame. So when he realizes that you're not one of those people and that you really want to get to know Jude the person and not "Jude Bellingham," it will certainly be something fantastic for him and he will be very happy because he also wants to get to know you and he wants you to get to know him as he really is. Obviously, at first he wouldn't open up right away. When I think of Jude, I imagine a very smart and even suspicious man, someone who is not easy to impress or figure out, so I imagine it would be something gradual. He would let you in little by little and that would make everything more real and interesting.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

he certainly loves giving and receiving affection, especially when he is intimate with the person; he's clearly someone who grew up in a structured family and who always provided him with affection and love, so I think he has no problem showing it to someone he cares about/loves

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

jude is a young man who clearly likes to hang out and have fun, but I feel like he would definitely become more domestic with you (which is what I would want if I were with him, since I hate going out) and would definitely love to spend a lot of quality time with you, whether it's watching a movie or talking or even enjoying some good food

as for housework, to be honest, I don't think he's very good at it lol and he definitely doesn't know how to cook, as he himself has said (we would go hungry because I'm not a good cook either); I think you could have a little work with him in that aspect, but with time he would get the hang of it, as you teach him (and push him a little too lol)

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he would definitely do it in a direct and honest way, as painful as it may be; I can't imagine him procrastinating or trying to smooth things over. if you broke up because it wasn't working out anymore or because you didn't have feelings, he would handle it better, but if it was because of lack of time or any other reason that forced you to break up, I don't think he would know how to handle it very well (even if he had been the one to break up)

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quickly would they want to get married?)

i don't think jude is against marriage, but i think he certainly doesn't think about it right now. he's clearly 100% focused on his growing career and enjoying his youth so even if he was completely in love i don't imagine he would think about a commitment to the level of marriage; at most, a serious relationship

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he is visibly a very gentleman, although I think he has his moments – like everyone else – of being in a bad mood or rude

when we talk about the emotional aspect, I think he is a bit of a "stuck" man; I don't imagine him being someone who is easy to show emotionally

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

come on, it's no secret that this man loves hugs and if I'm sure of anything in this life it's that his hugs are wonderful. just watch the way he hugs people, strong and tight and so sincere. I feel that his hugs convey a great sense of security and protection and I imagine that is exactly what he wants you to feel when he hugs you; simply so comforting.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

as sweet and caring as jude can be, I think he understands the weight and meaning of an "I love you" very well and he's definitely not saying it without really feeling it; I imagine it will take him a while to say it, since he wants to be sure that he really means it, but when he does say it, it will be extremely sincere and loud and clear

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

jude gives me very possessive vibes, as if he were saying "what's mine is mine and no one else's" and I feel like that would definitely fit you; he knows that you're not an object but a person with feelings and desires, but you're simply stronger than him. he would definitely hate to see you giving more attention to someone else — especially if it's a man — than him. at the end of the day, he wants you all and completely for himself

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

jude's kisses are definitely intense, that man exudes confidence and intensity; his kisses can't be any different. he will simply kiss you hungrily, but not in a hasty way, it will be intense and passionate as he grips your waist and presses you against some surface.

as for the places he likes to kiss you, I think he just wants to enjoy every part of you so he just explores everything he sees in front of him, leaving hot kisses on your neck, your bust and even your shoulders

when we talk about where he likes to be kissed, I quickly think of his neck, that man must get weak having you leaving tender kisses and little love bites on him while grabbing his muscles.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

although he insists that he doesn't want kids, the way he is extremely affectionate and good with kids tells a different story. the way kids love him and get along with him is something that makes your uterus itch, and it also makes your imagination run wild imagining that man being the father of your babies; jude exudes daddy material

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

well, mornings with jude are hectic, unfortunately since he has training so he wakes up early and barely has time for anything other than getting changed and eating something. now when he has time off or is on vacation you will definitely spend more time in bed talking and having soft, lazy sex

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

well, the schedule definitely varies a lot depending on his routine. On a non-game day, you'll go out to dinner together, sometimes at a nice restaurant (he once said he loves going out to restaurants) or, if he wants more privacy with you, he'll just ask his chef to prepare something. He loves talking to you and is definitely telling you every detail of his day and wants to hear every detail of yours too. Maybe you'll watch a movie together until a kiss here and there makes you take things to the bedroom. He definitely loves sleeping with you close to him.

on a game day, you'll watch him — if you don't have anything from school/work to do. I think his late-night schedule will depend a lot on the outcome (and his performance) of the game. If you win, he'll want to celebrate with you, but if you lose, he'll definitely be completely irritated and grumpy and you know you need to give him space to think a little.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

like I said, Jude doesn't seem like the kind of man who is easy to open up to emotionally in a romantic way so I think he only started opening up more and more after he gained a lot of trust; you would probably be the first to do it and he would notice how much you trust him and start doing the same — little by little.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

let's be honest, as loving and kind as he is, Jude clearly has a strong temper and gets angry easily; although, I think he controls himself quite well. from what we see and hear of him, we notice that he has a dominant personality (he tends to lead and control situations) and people like that usually hate to lose control of something and see that things don't go as they planned and when that happens they just explode first before solving what went wrong. in short, I think he's the kind of person who will explode when something goes wrong and get absolutely pissed off — and will definitely want to be alone — and then calm down and immediately act to solve the problem (I feel like he doesn't like to leave anything hanging, always wanting to solve everything)

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

jude is a very observant man and has a good memory from what we can see (the way he remembers fans/people he saw a while ago). for me, he would definitely pay attention to every detail and remember them all, especially since it's about you

r = remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

since he has an extremely busy life, I think his favorite moments with you will be those that are just the two of you and that are extremely comfortable and intimate where you talk sincerely and lightly, with him being able to be himself without any fear

maybe your first time could also be a memory that he will keep very fondly; he feels that it was different from anything he had experienced up until then, since it wasn't not only superficial pleasure

s = security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

it is extremely obvious how protective Jude is of those he loves and cares about; he is definitely sparing no effort when it comes to seeing you protected and safe. I think he is the kind of guy who will always be keeping an eye on your social media to see what people are saying about you and will always be there to show you that the negative things they say about you are lies; I also imagine that he will definitely not like the idea of you walking around alone. besides, he will always want to see you happy and comfortable

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

you see, that is an English man, he definitely likes to show how important you are to him and he is definitely sparing no effort to do so; I don't even need to say that he's clearly not letting you pay for anything, even if you insist, and he's definitely not being frugal when it comes to buying you gifts, but hey, he doesn't just want to show off expensive gifts, he wants you to really like them and have an important meaning for you (and he definitely wants to be reminded every time you look at the gift he gave you)

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

i feel like he's messy (in terms of leaving things lying around the house) and lazy when it comes to helping with the housework; I also imagine him being stubborn and doing things his own way

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

there's not much to say when it's all there in front of our eyes; that man is extremely careful with his appearance. He knows he’s a handsome man and does everything he can to keep his appearance perfect. Furthermore, you can see that he’s extremely hygienic. You look at him and you realize how clean he looks and how nice he smells (many people who meet him talk about how delicious is his scent).

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

jude doesn’t seem like the kind of person who has an emotional dependence on someone; sure, he’s intense when he loves someone (especially his family), but not to the point where he can’t live without them. If you guys broke up or something like that, the emptiness would be there — obviously —, but it’s not like he’d stop living because of it. I also think he’d be proud to the point of hiding as much as possible how much he misses you, not wanting to show weakness.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

obviously, self-interested people who are only with him because want something in return; superficial people (who don't see him as he really is or who are extremely superficial); people who are rude or who try to humiliate/put others down (that man is very kind and polite and he will definitely want someone identical in that aspect); I also feel that he doesn't like people who do everything to expose their lives (on social media or etc.). Jude is a very reserved man who loves his privacy and that of his family and would definitely hate a partner who insists on posting and showing everything

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

as he himself said in an interview, one of his favorite hobbies is taking naps so he definitely sleeps a lot, especially in the afternoon. I think he must be extremely tired when he gets home from training and doesn't want anything more than a cuddle and a good nap.

if you guys want to ask me for drabbles or one-shots, feel free (it can be fluffly, smut, agnst)

i hope you enjoyed it, babes 💋

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fuffly alphabet #fluffly

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alavestineneas · 6 months

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i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, daddy and sister issues, bald men chapter 1 - chapter 2 word count: 6,5K

author's note: hi beautiful people! this chapter may be classified as a prologue (yes, I am aware of its size, sorry, lol), but it is still integral to the story. we love evil people, especially evil bald people, in this house, so have fun and don't forget to wash your hands before reading! also, if you see things that are not canon, just know that me and the books are two parallel lines and we do not cross. feel free to point out grammar mistakes, though - english is not my first. love you!

Kaitain, 10176 AG

The violent streaks of light fight with the heavy cloth of drapes to find their way into the small, stifling chambers. The time was slowly crawling towards noon in the heavy summer heat, and the woman lying on the heavily decorated sheets was battling to get a breath in. Whether because of the annoying star, or the poisoning waiting, the patterns of sweat stained her tired face with esculent ornaments. Her lips, formed into a thin line, gleamed with small spots of dried crimson.

''Where is the messenger?'' The woman's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes glued to the dancing light filtering through the window. ''The girl is strong; I can't hold her for much longer.''

The black figure on the chair in the corner slightly shifted at words. She was veiled, despite the heat—like a black hole, she seemed to suck the little air left. ''Forbearance,'' her raspy voice cuts through the room. ''The child makes you impatient. Control yourself.''

''I've waited, and waited long enough,'' the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her trembling hands. ''A few more minutes and all that is left of her will be a corpse.''

''Be quiet, Echidna. The child will live. If not, she was never meant to be part of our world in the first place.''

The woman clenched her jaw in a wave of pain and nodded. The girl ought to see the light of this planet today. Deep in her thoughts, she almost missed the rushed steps behind the door.

One of the Emperor's guards burst into the room, his eyes almost frantic. ''Lady Anirul has graced the Imperium with a daughter.''

Echidna smiled in relief, but her expression quickly changed as a beast-like cry pierced the air. The child was coming, with little care for the damage it caused to her aching womb. She tore the tissue down to the individual cells, gnawing her way with fists and elbows, moving the bones aside with brute force. Soon, her own cries were answered by much louder ones, as the head of the girl showed itself, covered in a thick layer of almost black blood. Just for a moment, the woman wished it would not steal another breath from the room, but she sharply composed herself. With a final push, the child left her body forever, leaving it a raw wound.

The small creature shrieked when the black figure approached, and slender, wrinkled arms took it from the warmth of rufous-red liquid. Echidna watched as the figure carried the girl away, resting her hurting body against the soaked pillows. She fulfilled her duty; she granted Bene Gesserit the daughter they wanted. She is bleeding under a beautiful sun; she is holding the ghost of her child in her arms—the real one was never hers anyway. Echidna knows the Emperor will not come. From now on, it is just her and her never-passing pain. Thus, Kaitain, home to the Corrino dynasty, was warmed by the light of a new sun—Princess Irulan, an heiress to the Imperium—and chilled by the shadow of her sister, born a few minutes later.

The calmness of the gardens was disturbed only by the soft strokes of brushes against a thick canvas. YN sighed, her eyes still fixed on the tree nearby, its young branches swaying with the wind. Her body ached from stillness, the tension in her neck from holding her head slightly bowed spreading down to her small back. They posed for a portrait of what seemed like an eternity to a child, and was almost it to an adult who dared to inquire; the painter, while satisfied with the draft, looked at the group of young girls almost in fear—no normal child of that age would be unmoving for three hours. And yet, they were.

YN felt one of her sisters shift even through the thick fabric of her silver dress. Small Chalice turned, her cheeks red from the heat or tiredness, her lips forming a pout—the child was tired, sleepingly rubbing her eyes. YN thought for a moment, debating if the punishment would be worth it, or if her sisters could wait just a little bit more until the man with colours would end the session for today. She noticed how Irulan's face was starting to droop, her eyes fluttering closed and opening just a second later. Their youngest, Wensicia, was already asleep in Irulan's arms; her golden hair spread across her and YN's laps as a beautiful cover, shining under the faint sun.

''I am tired, Master Chen. We should end the painting for today,'' YN finally spoke; her voice was almost a whisper. She did not know whether it was not to awaken her sister or out of fear of the Emperor's anger; it did not matter. The man nodded and left, taking his canvases with him, leaving only a few drafts behind. Then, the sisters were left alone in the garden.

''Thank you,'' Irulan said softly, placing her head on YN's shoulder.

YN only nodded. Her eyes found the paper not so far away, her gaze studying the strokes of the pencil with interest. Wensicia, a beautiful girl of two, was smiling brightly, holding an olive branch in her chubby hands, her small feet peeking under the hem of her white dress. Small Chalice was at the opposite end of her, her curly hair surrounding her head like a halo as she leaned forward, holding a small dove inside her palms. Then, sitting at the bench, surrounded by lush greenery and bushes, they. Irulan and the Other.

YN was placed just a step away from her older sister, her head turned away from the gaze of the viewer. The delicate folds of her silver dress carefully cascaded down, creating an air of mist around them. Her hands were empty; she did not know if the artist hadn't decided with each object to grace her with, or left them hollow intently. She looked like a shadow—a ghost, maybe; her eyes were escaping the viewer as if hiding a secret.

Irulan was different. She was a sun-kissed creature, her head facing straight ahead. Her eyes, as if inviting for a challenge, were made from duty, steel. With a burning star on her regal forehead, crowning the streaks of golden hair, Irulan was water and air, dulcet and ever-bending; her figure held the place and her pose was distinct and commanding.

YN looked at the girl beside her, who was now quiet nearby. Irualn was wise, the wisest of the sisters; her eyes were all-seeing, her heart all-knowing. She was created in the shape of a mother since they could walk, and the small ones bathed in her light, drinking her till the last drop —like flowers following the warm embrace of the sun. The only one who could not enjoy the love was her, the Other. The other sister, the other half. For they have been too close in age, too similar to let each other pretend the burden was not a heavy one to bear.

When Irulan was natural in her all-caring shape, YN had to claw her way to the only role left—the father. An unbent tree, a silent soldier—she was not born to fit as one, but wishing for a different order of things was almost blasphemy. That's how it always was with them—out of two, one was the protector, the other - the protected. "Husband," Irulan humorously called her often. She smiled, and, for a moment, the wave of resentment in YN's soul calmed. She never called her wife in return: Irulan was too whole to be one, too proud to be moulded into. She stood alone, on a higher pedestal than all of them, closest to the Emperor, whom the Other was to call father, and closest to the Truth. No, Irulan was God.

God does not know how to love someone who is not his servant, because there is no one who would refuse to serve him; it is the only way. God guides, despite all one's protests. God gives, and God takes. God demands; Irulan demands—silent obedience without a need to explain or answer. That, she takes from their father. So, the Other takes a blade into her hand without compassion for her dead wishes and learns to wield it in God's name. She is the one little ones turn to when the world is too wicked for their fragile souls when the creatures under their beds lose all of their human form and turn violent. She takes their sins and bears the punishments, for they are not deserving of such cruelty. YN thinks not of her own guilt—what difference would one scourage make to one who counts in centuries? And when the sun shone, and God smiled, the Other almost forgot of the bruises she carried.

The first time he saw her, it was not supposed to happen at all. Feyd-Rautha just closed the door to Maester's chambers with such force that it shook against lean walls; the grumble echoed in the long corridors of Giedi Prime's fortness. The ache in his body was muted, but still present; the torn flesh inside his heart howled and clawed, slicing the ribcage in half. He would've screamed, or perhaps beat his hands bloody against the concrete until the dull pain turned into something as sharp as his knife's blade. Maybe he would've drowned himself in a small water bowl by his nightstand and done anything to escape the shame and humiliation that consumed him from within. But instead, Feyd-Rautha stood still, his jaw clenched tight and his breathing shallow. One day, it will pass. One day, he will see the world choke on its own spit.

That's when he noticed a small, shadow-like figure at the end of the hallway staring at him. A girl, not older than him, was in a dress so foreign to him that it hurt his eyes. The daughter of the Emperor, he guessed. One of many—only then would the golden stitching on her sleeve would make sense.

''What are you doing here?'' he barked, caring little for the common courtesy. Of course, she was a guest almost as prized as her father, but she was in his territory and dared to look at him for long enough without averting her eyes. Long enough to notice the bruising on his pale skin and a swelness surrounding his lips. Long enough to hear him cry.

''I was walking with my mother, but then I turned into the wrong hall,'' she shrugged. ''Will you be kind enough to show me the way out? Or should I find it myself?"

Feyd-Rautha ignored her question. What a weird creature she was—with cascades of hair and eyes that seemed to see too much. ''It is dangerous to walk these halls without guard, Princess.'' It is dangerous to be here, alone with him and the weapon strapped to his hip, but he did not add it.

''There is no use of guards if the one who wishes to kill you is their master.'' The girl took a step forward, pointing to the weapon at his side. "I am not afraid."

Feyd-Rautha laughed. It came out more as howling than human sounds, the abrupt nature of it ringing with high notes, tip-toeing down to hysterical; it sounded creaky, like his throat was not made for such sounds; yet here he was, laughing. ''Come,'' he gestured to her, his hand moving quickly, like ordering a slave around. ''I will show you why you should be.''

So, they walked. Inside the grandiose chambers and small rooms, filled with ancient artefacts or the newest technology Harkonnens came up with; inside the green lavish garden inside the dim castle and the training grounds, Feyd-Rautha showed every place that was built to display the greatness of his house and bestone fear inside both guests and people inhibiting it. He wanted to see the horror in the girl's eyes, to make her eyes water and her frame flee. Instead, he listened to her steady breathing just a step behind him, her curious questioning satisfying another need he did not know his heart possessed: reverence.

He was the youngest member of the ruling line, the smallest stone in the castle of power his uncle had built. His title meant nothing within these walls; he was too small in comparison to the Baron and his authority. Feyd-Rautha was feared, despite only being nine; he was the shadow in the corner that grew longer as the sun set, the whispered name that sent shivers down spines. But here, in the hallway he led the girl into, he turned out to be something else.

''Stunning,'' the girl whispered beside him.

Weapons. The walls, from the floor to the high ceilings, were covered in ritual and fighting blades. The pride of house Harkonnen, the tree of their dynasty, black, silver, golden, and steel knives, swords, and daggers gleamed in the dim light. Feyd-Rautha smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "Welcome to our burial ground."

They stopped near every one, his voice briefly covering the story of each blade and his owner; barons that came before him; fighters and rules that defined their legacy. Some still have blood on them—the highest honour; some look almost virgin. The small signs underneath them tell the names of people who wielded these weapons, their stories forever immortalised in the cold metal. ''Each Harkonnen ruler is crafted a blade of his own, the one he is to honour in battle.''

The girl nodded, her fingers tracing the shape of the last blade carefully. Her palms danced around the sharp edge, taking in the ancient symbols she had no chance of knowing. ''Will you have to kill Baron Vladimir in order to have one, like he did with his father before?''

Feyd-Rautha paused. Of course, he has thought about it before. The idea he repeated like a mantra in his head for all of his short life, the belief that spread burning flames down his spine. The words left his mouth for the first time but felt almost natural against his cracked lips. ''I dream of the day I have the chance to.''

The pair of foreign eyes that stared back at him held a glint of intrigue that quickly changed with a flash of acknowledgement. Feyd-Rautha held the gaze; not a single thing about it was hard. Still, he was the first to turn away; the burning sensation of being seen made him want to tear his flesh apart. ''Let me escort you to your rooms, Princess. The walls grow colder as the evening approaches.''

The weather on the planet leaves too few guards out of their breath, Irulan notes. The striking sun burns through the rounded windows of man-built walls, the frankly depressing landscape of huge boxes constructed with little intent for anything else but utilitarianism. She must not fear, while those lands will also be under her power with time, but the dreadful atmosphere of the lonely planet makes her skin break out in hives.

She believes the people here are more terrifying. White, hairless creatures with eyes as dark as the sun above them speak with just nods and courseys, paying little to no attention to the world around them, save for the concrete floors. ''Tell them to set themselves on fire, and they will,'' Irulan recalls Baron Vladimir telling her father over the banquet. She believed it to be a simple boast at first, but now, after a few days in the strange world, the words make greater sense.

Perhaps, the harsh weather made people here hardened. Perhaps, such cruelty is necessary for survival. What terrorised her more was her sister—the one who now silently reads nearby, her long dress carelessly spread on the floor. Irulan would never allow her dress to wrinkle before the concluding dinner, but she is not Irulan. Despite them being demisisters, they shared fewer similarities than one could guess. Two lambs, as many in court would call them—the white and black ones. They knew one another better than anything else; where one went, the other followed. Where Irulan failed, her sister succeeded. What was allowed for her sister, was fobility towards Irulan. No one was embedded in their small circle; no one could get close enough to understand the bond they shared—together, they were whole.

Yet as they grew older, the bond seemed to thin. The path to the mind of her sister was more often closed to her now, her thoughts veiled by the silence rooted deep into her veins. Irulan knows they are just growing up, trying to find their path in the unknown. But she is scared; what would be of her without her sister? What use would the river have without fish to fill it?

''I shall go,'' her sister says, closing the book. ''The dinner starts soon, and I wanted to return the book before it.''

''Is it the one Na-Baron recommended?'' Irulan voices. Truth be told, she would never touch anything that Baron or his family possessed, even more recommended, but her sister seemed to enjoy the ancient text.

''It is. Rather interesting are the traditions of these people. Did you know their slaves have no tongues?''

Irulan feels sick to her stomach; the thought of having slaves brings the small bits of her recent meal to her very present tongue. ''Can I come with you?'' she asks, instead of answering. Irulan does not want to leave the faint safety of her rooms, but even more, she does not want to be left alone. She feels vulnerable—she is not of power here, despite being the embodiment of it in all of the other corners of the Imperium.

''You know I walk without guards.''

Irulan knows. While she is not able as much as bathe without the presence of someone with fighting knowledge, the rules do not seem to apply to her younger sister; she can move freely, as she wishes. Was it because she carried a thin blade with her and knew how to use it, or because of the lack of care from their father? Irulan was not sure. What she was sure of, was that no woman of twelve should leave her sister alone in the halls of Harkonnens' fort.

''It is just to the reading room and back, is it not?''

''Yes,'' her sister nods. ''I'll take you,'' it means.

So, they walk. Fortunately, the guards usually waiting outside are nowhere to be found, and they manage to slip away unnoticed. Irulan holds the hand of her sister tightly, with each noise from the outside digging her nails deeper into her soft palm. Her sister says nothing; she steps calmly into the labyrinth of corridors, navigating them without much evident trouble. Soon, they find themselves in front of a huge black door, incarnated with words Irulan hold no knowledge of.

Inside, the chamber is massive; it forms a beautiful, round circle with ceilings so high that the air in it is always chilly. Rows of books and manuscripts fill the shelves out of oxidant, contrasting starkly with the white wall. The black circle table of cold stone is filled with replicas and ancient artefacts, each emitting a soft glow.

Who knew the small, desert planet held such treasures inside? Irulan forgets about her sister entirely—the texts call to her, golden lettering shining under the light. Irulan follows the names on the covers: legends, myths, histories, and art overviews. Some even contained gardening and soil research; Baron likely held those for a good laugh.

Irulan travels deeper and deeper until the voice of her sister addressing the only library keeper almost disappears, consumed by tall bookcases. The section she finds herself in is solely dedicated to martial arts; where, if not here, would the hundreds of books on such a topic be stored? Some of them are used; the spines are slightly older; others look brand new.

Irulan is brought to her senses only when she notices a black figure moving in the corner of her vision. She puts the book back and Listens. Just like the Sisters taught her, her inner ear picks up the faint voice of her sister, and the moving of two sandaled feet—the slave handling the books. She feels something else, too. A presence familiar enough to recognise but not enough to name.

''We have to go,'' she says, grabbing her sister by the shoulder and pressing. ''We will be late,'' she explains to the slave. Not that it would question the whims of the princess.

''Why?'' her sister turns to her, confused. ''I was looking at some other books. Weren't you also?''

''Please,'' Irulan whispers. ''We spent enough time here as it is.''

Just as her sister was about to answer, the atmosphere shifted. The air, sitting in its calmness, heavied. The silent before slave turned on its feet, its eyes burning holes in Irulan's body. It lurches towards them, opening its obsidian mouth to show the blackened void inside—indeed, it possesses no tongue.

Irulan freezes. The void seems to suck her in, the sharp mouth growing wider as its owner approaches her body. The fear paralyses her, planting her otherwise quick feet deep into the ground. Now, her training as Bene Gesserit should awaken—she should oppose, or at the very least dodge, the attack. But the black mouth continues to draw her in, clouding her thoughts with terror.

The body beside her shifts; her sister is quick. With one strong thrust, she pushes Irulan aside. '' Hide ,'' the voice within her head commands, and Irulan has no force to object to the technique. She crawls under the heavy stone, frantically looking for something—anything—to protect herself with.

Despite the long skirts, her sister moves like Adam's wine; she bends and turns, and strikes the man far taller than her, but he seems determined on the idea of killing her. Her sister grunts under the heavy hits; one sits in her abdomen, and another lands on her knees. The slave's nails leave a trace on her skin, rough enough to pierce the young dermis.

Eventually, her sister grows tired; the slave pushes her to the ground, pressing his slender body on top and closing its white, almost translucent hands on her throat. Irulan clasps the found sharp cutting instrument to her chest, desperately trying to calm the wave of fear forming there. ''I must not fear. Fear is a mind killer,'' she whispers again and again.

She watches as her sister's hand slips under her clothes and emerges an illicit, slender blade—it shines under the light just as lettering did on the books a minute ago. To Irulan, it feels like a year's hundred. ''No!'' she wants to shout as her sister raises the steel and preys it into the eye of the slave, but the words are unable to leave her throat. Like a waterfall, crimson covers her sister's face, staining her light grey dress in hot circles.

The slave falls on his back, his hands leaving their place on her sister's neck.

''Enough, please! Sister, stop!'' Irulan cries, crawling out of her hiding spot but daring not to get closer.

Her sister doesn't hear; she lurches towards the man in a slick puddle and takes his life quickly, cutting his throat in one swift motion. The blood from his arteria leaves the body in pulsations; they spatter everywhere, some drops going as far as touching the shelves.

The silence settles in the chamber once again; only the sound of weakly flowing blood disturbs the stillness. Her sister does not shed a tear; she meticulously cleans the blade with the slave's white cloth and slips it back into the folds of her gown.

''What have you done?'' Irulan whispers. Her hands tremble; the sight before her crawls into the deepest corners of her mind and tears everything there down. How can one kill so easily? How can one be so cold and calculating, as if it were nothing more than a daily chore? How could that one be her sister, the one she shared a life with?

''I protected.'' Her sister's voice is hoarse, but firm. There is no remorse in her tone, only weariness. ''What have you done?'' She turns to face her. Her hair, carefully braided by servants for dinner, is undone; the wet strands of it grip her face like a vice, framing the unseeing eyes.

Like that, she looks like a woman mad. Irulan backs into the safety of the doors, feeling her fear turn into something much greater. ''Do not come near me,'' she commands. Just as the heavy doors close behind her, she sets off running.

YN waits until the footsteps of her sister are no longer heard, and only then does she come out of the reading room. She pays the body on the ground little attention; no one would bet an eye on the death of a useless creature like that. It did not intend to kill; rather, someone made it do it. Who, in their right mind, would try to harm the heir of the Emperor? How would they know that Irulan would follow her there?

Irulan. The one who watched as the Other almost gave her life for hers, the one who had the nerve to be repulsed by the blood on her hands—the blood she spilt protecting her. What do you do when you are not allowed to be angry at God? Why does God shame one for the will she herself inflicted on one to bestone? YN would ask the sun, but it hid behind the walls of the fort. She would ask, but no one would answer.

So, she does what she is meant to do—finds her way into the large dining hall, where everyone, of course, is starting to gather. The Emperor would be dissatisfied to find her not there on time; she has no time to fix her appearance. In light of the slight possibility of shaming their House with her muddled hairstyle or suffering yet another punishment for being even late, she chooses the first option.

The guards let her in without saying a word. YNr watches as the shield slides open, revealing a full hall. Rows and rows of tables, filled with foods one would imagine never would have made their way to the Giedi Prime, and laughter not so usual for a harsh realm.

''Princess...'' the servant starts, announcing her arrival, but she shushes him with a slight wave of her palm. She does not notice the crimson liquid staining it.

The Other makes her way to her seat calmly, careless of the way people around her stumble and twist their faces in shock. The only eyes that watch her without fear at the Emperor's table are those of Lady Echidna. Her face betrays no emotion at all—hidden by her veiled black cloth, it only slightly moves when the YN passes her seat.

She holds the angry gaze of the Emperor calmly. He will demand an answer, of course if Irulan has not whispered the truth into his aged ears already. Her sister probably would do no such thing; in that, she would admit to disobeying the orders bestowed upon her. YN is puzzled at the attention directed towards her humble figure—the first thing a Bene Gessarite in training learns is not to be repulsed by the anatomy of her body. Why be grossed out by the liquid coursing through her veins—the liquid she carries all her life? Why be scared of death, when it is always at your doorstep? In the sway of her thoughts, the Other also seems not to perceive the pair of icy blue eyes glued to her figure as she finds her seat and takes her place.

"The boy follows you around like a dog." The mother's tone stands not in judgment but rather simply states the truth.

Lady Echidna is not veiled now; her heavy hair is still tightly braided out of her face. Just a small black ribbon highlights her status as one of the Emperor's senior concubines, a position most would bear with honour. To her, it was yet another stain on her earthly body—the body she could not call her to possess. The black sun of Giedi Prime is finally long behind them; nothing but a few light orbs floating around illuminate the chamber, yet her intense gaze seems to pierce right through the girl that sits across her.

"I know, mother. His steps are heavy; his thoughts are even heavier; they follow me much more often."

The woman's fingers stop working on an intricate needlework for a moment, before continuing as it was. "You are to call me Sister, girl," she speaks, her voice low.

YN drags her teeth across her tongue, feeling the anger flow through the veins in her body. She wishes to be far away from this small chamber, to run and never face the woman's eyes again. "The girl has a name, Sister. Or do you fear to voice it?"

Lady Echidna places the cloth on the table beside her gracefully, as if paying no attention to the words spoken. But YN can sense can feel the resentment that burns inside her mother's stomach, spreading its molecules to her throat. "A name holds meaning; for a person to have a name, one must first be of character and substance. You are none."

YN bit the soft flesh inside her mouth; it tasted bitter. It was better if her mother shouted, if she hit her if she did anything to prove YN is still here in her eyes, that she was not just a void the woman spoke her riddles into. Maybe then the pain inside her would have a meaning, would have a reason better than just childish hurt. "Did I not have a beating heart when I left your womb, Sister? Did you not hear it loud and clear? What kind of proof is needed more of me?"

"My daughter died that day, screaming. You took her place. So do not bother me with your foolish talks anymore, for we both know they just waste the air we breathe. Am I heard?"

She was. The tears dried on YN's face before having the chance to spill, and she turned to her studies. Once more, a feeling of ever-lasting cold surrounded her shoulders. The never-leaving vision in her mind appeared once again—her mother's quick steps as she walked away in another corridor of Giedi Prime's fort, her head straight ahead as YN pleaded not to leave her alone, her legs glued to the command spoken. It was a blessing that the boy found her earlier than his uncle.

Time has passed since the first time YN's eyes saw the black sun of the foreign planet so far from hers. The Other trained, restlessly, in the tongues of ancient warriors and the most prominent whisperers, slowly earning the right to bear Knowledge in her crown-empty head. She had much yet to learn, but the prospect did not frighten her; with every passing day, she felt power building in her hands and soul. Patience, the greatest virtue of all. She was alone now, without her half of a sister; alone, in her solitude, the heavy bearings seemed not as heavy—she had no one to enlighten about her battles. Still, God was on her mind; YN felt her presence near, her watchful eyes guiding her. Like the tight, dampened cloth on her bruised knuckles, her sister was stuck to her open wound of a soul.

Irulan has grown. Her complexion changed; she no longer looked like a bright-faced girl who left her sister alone in Harkonnen's library; the plump cheeks were gone, and so was fear. At the Other stared a sole statue of power she bloomed into. Silver collars, light blue waves of fabric—the cut is, as always, straight. The Other eyed her up and down, taking in each detail of the painting-like sight. Irulan did the same—a slight disgust at the Other's simple tunic and pants, creased from the sparring. Irulan did not need to be broken in order to be a Sister in the Bene Gesserit; they wanted her Corrino first, and a servant second. The Other, however, held no such value—a child carried not by the lawful wife, a second, a spare. So, there would be no bone in her body left untouched by the lessons, no string in her soul unharmed by the knowledge. They crushed her cartilage in grey sand and forced her to swallow the bitter truths of their ways. Yet, God remains undisturbed—stoic. Eternal.

''Will you not eat again?'' Irulan musses, putting another piece of dish in her mouth.

The Other would take it as a cruel joke from anyone else, but not from God. She shakes her head instead. ''I am forbidden.''

Irulan hums. It was not the first time YN would be disciplined this way; the cycle of punishment and forgiveness was all too familiar to her. The room is silent; there is no one but the two of them. She could offer to eat, and no one would know she did, but Irulan won't offer. The Other does not expect her to; pity is not something a sister can possess.

''How are your lessons going? A fresh knowledge, perhaps?''

YN nods. If she opens her mouth now, her voice will betray her. She could cry all she wanted in the presence of a sister, but it is not appropriate for a thirteen-year-old to behave this way in front of God. The Other is reminded of that with an absence of bruises on Irulan's skin; her hands were never cut by the sharp blades, and her mouth was never starved. ''Why was I summoned from training?'' She asked, directing her eyes to the figure in front of her.

''I am here as a messenger from the Emperor.''

YN's eyes narrowed. ''And what does our dear Emperor desire to tell me now?'' She wishes not to hear anything he has to say; the Other is perfectly content here, amongst her Sisters. Here, she is of cost.

''Recently, Baron Vladimir turned to our House for guidance. He and na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen felt misled by the House Artreidis, and their promise of a bride that did not come. Our father has graciously offered to negotiate the conflict and pay the needed price for the Baron's cooperation.''

''Of course, he did. With all of our might, we are still afraid of the savages that made Arrakis their home. With what advice, may I ask, did the Emperor provide the Baron?''

Irulan's lips turn into a straight line, with the small wrinkle on her forehead appearing. Something that she carried with her through childhood. Something that still reminded of home. ''With the proposal of a woman of our House to na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.''

''A gift? Irulan, I am so sorry.''

Sure, the bridge between them was long forgotten, growing with tall grass and wildflowers, but the weight of their shared history still lingered in the air. Irulan was still her sister, no matter how many times the Other tried to tell herself otherwise. And no woman sane would consider giving her sister to the inhumane brutes that were Harkonnens—the people even Bene Gessarit wished to observe from afar; the people so ruthless mothers told stories about them to their small offspring in an attempt to instil fear and obedience.

Irulan does not answer. She hides her gaze, her eyes following the wooden panels of the quarters.

''What is it, sister? Speak .''

''The offer Emperor found the most fitting would be of your hand, not mine.''

The Other exhales. As if a heavy stone were put on her chest, she fights to bring much-needed oxygen to her bloodstream. She almost feels the erythrocytes scatter from her face into her neck, hidden by the cloth, and gather there in an attempt to regrow their might. Her throat twists and closes, its muscles compressing until not even an ounce of air can get in. All of her organs, from heart to stomach, made their presence known; one by one, they tensed and burned, forcing the otherwise relaxed hands to grip them.

It was supposed to be Irulan. The first one to marry is the oldest sister; the title high enough to satisfy the ambitious Harkonnes would be hers, no less. Yet, here she stands, not even looking at the one taking her place as she sentences her to an ultimate death. No matter how much power the Corrino name held, on Giedi Prime, she would consider herself fortunate enough if she were to meet her end quickly.

''Why, Irulan? Have I not been a loyal servant to you all those years? Have I not followed every order without question? ''

Irulan is unmoved in her position. ''We can not risk the Harkonnen blood getting on the throne, you know it.''

''You mean we can not risk you? We are not eight anymore, dear Irulan; you can speak truthfully now. Do you really think the Emperor will treasure you more if you say nothing now? We are no sons, Irulan; we are sisters, you and I. Please, spare me this fate.''

''Yes,'' the girl lifts her eyes, taking a step closer. ''We are no sons; you knew that one day we would marry for the peace of the Imperium. Why do you shout now?''

''Married, yes, but not murdered for the sake of the fucking old man who could not hold his promise. They are monsters, Irulan, spilling innocent blood for the fun of it. I beg of you, sister, show me the mercy I know you are capable of.''

''You are worried about blood? What could one more splash of blood mean to you? You have been no sister for a long time; I order you, as an heir of the Emperor and as the messenger of his will here, to comply. Do not make it harder than it has to be.''

The Other smiled—she would not grant the pleasure of tears. ''Very well, then. Someone needs to go first. I'll go; I'll be first, at least here. Tell the Emperor that I will comply with any of his wishes, whether it be to throw me to the sharks or to feed me to the sandworms. As a confirmation of my undying loyalty, you may show him this:''

She slaps her. She slaps her not like a warrior, not like the trained assassin she was raised to be; she slaps her like a sister, bitterly, harshly. For the first time in her short life, YN raises a hand on something she deems holy—the God's shocked face brings a sense of satisfaction to the Other's veins, even if the same blood courses through them. She turns on her heels and walks away, leaving the forsaken room behind. Leaving God behind.

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astraariel · 1 year

Text

eternal snow

pairing: sanji x fem!reader

summary: your love for sanji was unconditional, unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same seeing as there were petals coming out of your mouth.

word count: 3.6K

warnings: spoilers (?) just the name of a character from the whole cake island arc, it’s a modern!au so I don't mention anything about the actual arc!

tags: loosely based on “eternal snow” from fullmoon wo sagashite; angst; hanahaki disease; implied cheating; modern!au; hurt no comfort; lovesick; requited unrequited love

author's note: I think along with everyone opla is taking over my life so it encouraged me to finish this fic I started months ago lol. once again I like angst and this is soooo ooc of sanji he would never cheat I love him so much I’m sorry. on another note, I really like AmaLee’s cover of this song so you can give it a listen if you want to feel the vibe.

also, ignore the fact that Pudding is sixteen, she’s older than that in this. I couldn’t really think of anyone else to have/didn't want to think of a different character. just know, she’s of age. other than that, ignore grammar mistakes and enjoy♡

──★ ˙ ̟read pt2 here!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You weren’t entirely sure how you had gotten to this point. You were certain that you two would be together forever. How you had unknowingly lost the one you love so dearly, you would never know.

Sanji was a flirt and you loved it, he could simply say that you looked beautiful today and you’d melt. Hell, that’s how you too met, Nami had introduced you two and Sanji wooed his way into your heart. You knew that he had you in the palm of his hand, but you weren’t sure you could say the same for him.

Sanji was an attentive lover. When he loved, he showered you with his attention. You could always tell that his presence was there whenever you spoke. He’d care and cater to every request you asked of him, not allowing you to lift a single finger. It’s who he was.

You were blinded by your love for Sanji that you never noticed him slipping away from your grasp.

The two of you were currently sitting together on your living room couch. Sanji mentioned there was a new show he wanted to watch, so here the two of you were. Your attention was focused on the TV in front of you while his was on his phone.

You glance at him, “Who’s that?”

He hadn’t looked away from it for more than 30 seconds throughout the last episode. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he looks at you.

“Oh, it's the new dessert chef at the restaurant,” he shuts his phone off, “I've been assigned to help her around and show her the ropes,” he smiles, “It’s nothing, you want popcorn?”

You turn to him, “Of course I do.” He gets up to walk to your kitchen, “Hey, I love you.”

He walks up behind you and bends down, kissing your head, “And I love you more.” He stands up and you hear him rummaging through the pantry for a popcorn packet.

You cough slightly, “Could you grab me some water, Sanji?” He shouts back a response but you don’t make it out because you’re too busy pulling a petal out of your mouth.

♡‧₊˚

After that lone petal had made its introduction, it planted itself as a constant. Every so often for the following weeks, you’d feel something weird in your mouth, only to pull out a single flower petal.

You weren’t sure what was going on, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think too much about it. On top of the weird cough you were having, Sanji was also acting off.

It was small at first, just tiny, little white lies that he’d tell you.

Like when he’d say he was tired, that he was going to bed, but you could hear him on his phone laughing at something from the room. Or when he claimed that his phone had died and that’s why he hadn’t texted you back even though you were hanging with Nami at the time and he had replied to a video she had sent him a minute after you texted him.

That was just the first few weeks.

You weren’t sure when the white lies became real lies but it had only spiraled more. You had found that he wasn’t even bothering with lying anymore, simply stating that he was too busy to come over or that he didn’t even want to hang out with you that day.

Sanji would claim to be too tired and not bother to see you for an entire week, but then he’d call you complaining that he missed you and question why the two of you hadn’t gone on a date recently and then insist that he was going to cook dinner for the two of you. Those times were always the best. It made you feel like nothing was wrong.

It was pure whiplash.

You were never sure which Sanji you were gonna get that day. Maybe it’d be the Sanji that you loved or this new person who had taken over and wouldn’t even text you back for days on end.

Recently, he was your loving, doting boyfriend. Which caused you to completely forget about the flower petals you were currently collecting from your mouth when you were being distracted by Sanji’s full attention.

You were lying on Sanji’s chest recounting your day to him when suddenly the sound of his phone pinging cut you off.

A quiet chuckle made you peek up at Sanji, his eyes were looking at his phone intently, whatever was on his screen, clearly captivated him more than what was coming out of your mouth.

You sit up, his blatant disinterest in your day annoying you.

“Did I do something wrong?” Your voice cuts through the room.

He looked up at your now sitting form, it looked like he was just acknowledging your presence.

He lets out a noise of confusion, “What?”

“Are you angry at me? Did I say or do something that pissed you off? Because, please, just tell me, I can't take it anymore.” you pleaded.

You notice Sanji’s body tensing, his brow scrunching in even more confusion. He laughs awkwardly, “Baby, what are you talking about? I’m not angry.” he looks away, “I love you, you know that right?”

And suddenly, you weren’t angry anymore.

You smiled, “I love you too.”

He glances at his phone again.

But you don’t care, because he loves you.

Satisfied with his response, you settle back down but are interrupted when you begin to cough. Quickly, you stand up to fetch your handkerchief from your pocket, wiping your mouth swiftly.

You look back at Sanji, “I’m gonna-” but before you can finish, you feel the familiar flowers clawing their way up your throat. You walk out of the room coughing.

Sanji doesn’t look up from his phone.

♡‧₊˚

He was late.

Again.

You were exhausted. The constant lies that you fooled yourself into believing for the sake of your heart were beginning to wear on you.

The old hoodie you were wearing enveloped you in an attempt to provide yourself some level of comfort that no one could really give you anymore.

It’s late, around midnight, last you checked. The spaghetti dinner left on the table you had cooked had long gone cold. The Baratie had closed hours ago and Sanji still wasn’t home.

You sit in complete darkness, the TV is currently rattling off an old rerun of some show you didn’t watch. You’re too tired to get up and find the remote to change the channel so you settle on watching the old comedic sitcom. You’re holding your trusty handkerchief that’s become your best friend in the past months; ready to close around your mouth in an attempt to catch the petals of flowers that’d come up your throat every so often.

Your eyes glaze over the screen when you hear the door creak open. Footsteps were heard as a soft clatter sounded throughout the room from Sanji setting his keys down on the counter.

You sit up slowly, in an effort to prohibit any intense coughing.

Your eyes meet Sanji’s surprised ones, “You’re still awake? It’s late, you should go to bed.” he looks away.

“You missed dinner.” You look over at Sanji’s form, he’s stiff, you note.

“I stayed late to help close, sorry we can reschedule.” He brushes you off swiftly.

“Was she there?” The argument had already begun, why not fuel it some more?

Sanji whips his head at you, an incredulous look gracing his features. “Who are you talking about?” Acting dumb was never a good look on him.

Your tired eyes stare at him, “I know you’re spending time with her.” The venom in your tone was palpable.

You were over the lies. You were over the constant tiptoeing between each other, you’re honestly surprised he still even decided to come over. It would have been better for him to stay at his place and just call you in the morning to tell his lie.

He has balls, you’ll give him that.

“Do you even love me anymore?”

The silence that surrounded the room was upsetting. Of course, he didn’t, who were you fooling? You had all the proof you needed in all of the trashcans around your house, discarded tissues soaked in blood, and petals filled the bins.

Sanji scoffs, “I don’t know what you want from me.” He doesn't answer the question, “Why are you asking if I love you, you're being needy.” He stares at you before continuing, “If you don’t trust me,” he looks away, “Then maybe we should break up.” With a tone of finality, he turns around and walks toward the door, the sound of it shutting echoing throughout the house.

You’re left alone in the silence, the ticking of the clock on the wall muffling your coughs that were accompanied by flowers and blood.

♡‧₊˚

With the new development of the blooms coming out of your throat, you felt defeated. You’re not sure what you did in a past life to deserve this. You didn’t wish this on anyone, it was a lonely and awful feeling, physically and emotionally.

You’ve gotten used to your condition. It had been a month since you’d seen Sanji after he had broken things off and in that month, you would constantly find yourself leaning over the toilet bowl, hacking up blood and flower blooms.

You finally had the courage to look up what you assumed was hanahaki disease. It was a rare condition, but you were certain that was what was causing you pain. The only cure was to have surgery that resulted in the patient forgetting about whomever they had loved. That you’d act as if nothing had happened, that you’d live in ignorance bliss afterward.

Sacrificing your heart for your life.

After that month, you had decided to go to a coffee shop forcing yourself to get out of the house and do something.

So you went to Sanji’s favorite coffee shop.

Why you had put yourself through that? You weren't sure.

You remember wrapping your hand around the door handle, ready to walk in when a wisp of light auburn hair had caught your attention inside the cafe.

There she was. Pudding. The girl who had replaced you. The one who had captivated Sanji’s attention in a way you could only dream of.

Sanji stood beside her, you were certain he couldn't see you from inside, his attention was fully on Pudding’s face, absorbing whatever story she had been telling him.

He had never looked at you like that.

Did he ever love you? Were you that stupid to even see the truth? Had it been there all along and you were simply too blind to notice?

An “excuse me” had brought you back to reality and had you rushing back to your apartment in hopes of not bumping into Sanji or Pudding. You weren't sure your heart could take it if you were forced to talk to them.

After that defeat you noticed that you were no longer hacking up petals, but fully blossomed flowers, you couldn’t walk for a long distance without wheezing, the flowers constricting your airways preventing you from wanting to do anything. You knew you were nearing the final stage, soon roots were going to begin to show up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to a doctor. You had read that the longer you kept this from being treated, you’d enter the point of no return.

So, you simply waited.

Your mind was reeling. You never wanted to stop loving Sanji. You didn’t care about the pain that it brought you.

You don’t care that you still long to have Sanji tell you that he loves you. To tell you and for you not to immediately have to turn away and cough up blood and flowers.

You missed him. You yearned for him.

After Nami had found out why you and Sanji broke up, she went on a rant about how she was going to kill him, on how he could have done this to you. You weren't sure if you had ever seen her get so angry before.

But even after that, you confessed that you still loved him.

She proceeded to call you insane, but she simply didn’t understand. She didn’t know about how his eyes would sparkle when he would go on about a new recipe that he developed and how he was certain that it was going to be the new hit at the Baratie. She didn’t know how bashful he got when you complimented him on his food. How he’d kiss you like how it was the first time you were kissing each other.

You loved him. And you would forever love him.

But he haunted your life. Leaving you lying at night, not even allowing you to find comfort in your dreams since he haunted those too. When you’d close your eyes you could only mourn for the love that once was. To mourn for him even though he was alive and well, but could you say the same for yourself?

You had long accepted that you were going to die. If anything, you willed it. Never did you want to forget your love for Sanji. The idea that you would never be able to recall how he made your heart pound every time he’d look at you, would be a nightmare.

But you were tired.

In the months after the cafe incident you would go through phases where the pain would turn to anger, cursing Sanji, wishing you two had never met, wishing that Nami had never introduced you too.

But the anger would never stay directed towards Sanji. It would always circle back to you. And anger would turn to pity and pity would turn to sadness.

You wanted to cry and scream at the sky, to yell at the world, to question why love felt this way. Why couldn't he just love you back, why were you being punished for simply loving him unconditionally?

You suffocate yourself in the love that you have for Sanji. Sacrificing your every breath to simply feel the true and fierce love you felt for him. You’d cry until you were gasping for air, til you were choking up flowers that were clogging your lungs. You wished, begged, for it to go away. Wishing that you had never fallen for him.

But even with all the pain he caused you. You could never hate him.

You could never hate Sanji.

You can’t even bring yourself to hate Pudding, it wasn't her fault that Sanji was infatuated with her rather than you.

And you could never truly hate him for that.

The sterile white walls and the smell of disinfectant wafting through the air brought you back to reality.

Recalling how hours before Nami had found you on the ground of your bathroom, post-hacking your brains out from the various blooms of flowers that rose from your throat at what seemed like at every hour of the day as of recently. You hadn’t heard her call for you when she entered your apartment so you weren’t able to hide anything from her.

“Are you insane?” Her voice ricocheted in the bathroom after you had explained to her what had been happening to you for the last couple of months.

You were numb the entire car ride to the hospital as Nami yelled at you for being so careless.

“Why are you letting that boy kill you?”

Why were you?

Why were you putting yourself through this pain, knowing he would never love you again?

The recent memory reminded you of Nami’s presence on the side chair that was placed beside the crunchy bed you were currently sitting on. Her brown eyes met yours and smiled softly at you.

“You’re gonna be okay.” Nami’s attempt at reassurance was comforting to you for 5 seconds before the door swung open revealing the doctor.

“Hello,” she said your name, “you’re the one with hanahaki disease, correct?” You glance over at Nami before replying to the doctor in confirmation. “Well, unfortunately, it has been developing for a while and if you had come just a little bit later it would have been untreatable, so I highly suggest proceeding with the procedure as soon as possible.”

Your hands grew clammy. This was it. You were going to be relieved from this grueling life you had found yourself in. You would finally be able to go back to normal.

Normal.

Would it truly be normal if you didn’t love Sanji anymore? Could you truly live with yourself knowing that you gave up the one thing that has been keeping you going? You guess you wouldn’t actually remember your love for him if you did the surgery but your heart would know. Your soul would know.

You wished that all of this pain would go away. Longing to run back to Sanji, for him to stop the anguish that you felt. To have him whisper that he loved you and for you to not cough up flowers anymore. To know that he truly meant the words that he was saying.

You wondered how your life would have gone if you had never fallen for Sanji. Would your life still lead you to this very moment of hell that you’re living currently? You would think that hell would be hot, blazing with heat, but all you felt was the coldness of lies that you believed that spewed from Sanji’s lips when he spoke to you.

You would like to think that you wished you had never fallen into this trap. That your heart never fell for him, but you knew better. You knew that he had your heart from the beginning. You were doomed from the first interaction.

Wasn’t it a true act of love if you could let the person go? Wouldn’t it be the final seal of approval of your love if you went through with the surgery? The love that you felt for Sanji would be proven by this simple act.

You felt Nami’s hand grab yours. Her eyes were filled with remorse, a sadness that you could distinguish as the same sadness that you saw in your eyes ever since that first petal came to be.

Anticipatory grief.

She was grieving your love for him already, grieving for your heart, how you would never love again, how you would never love him again.

You sigh.

♡‧₊˚

You wake up to the soft murmurs of the television in the corner of the room.

Your mind was hazy, from what, you weren't entirely sure yet. It felt as if you had lost something like it was on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t think of exactly what it was.

Guess it wasn’t important.

Your eyes wander over to your surroundings, the hospital room is bare except for the basic, usual furniture. Your eye caught movement out of the corner of your eye, turning your face to examine what it was.

A balloon with the words “Get well soon!” fills your vision, and your gaze scans over the hearts that surround the bubble letters in bright yellow hues. You reach over the side table to grab the card that sat under the balloon.

Hope you feel better - Nami.

Sad that you had missed your friend, you made a mental note to pay her a visit after you were discharged from the hospital to thank her.

A soft knock echoed throughout the room, your attention to the door opening revealing the doctor. “Hi, glad you’re awake. The procedure was a success. You should be good to go soon, but take it easy for the next two weeks.”

The procedure.

You quickly scour your brain for answers of who it was you loved but came up short.

Guess that was the point, wasn’t it?

Before you could thank the doctor, rushed footsteps were heard outside the room, hasty knocks piercing the air along with the clamor of the door opening quickly.

Sanji’s blond hair comes into view, and he stands, wide-eyed, near the doorframe. He was panting slightly, a sign that he possibly had been running before he got here.

He says your name quietly, the doctor gives you a nod before excusing herself from the room to give you guys privacy.

“Sanji,” you smile brightly at him, “Did you get off of work? Why are you here?”

His eyes shift over to the balloon on the stand beside the bed. “Nami told me about the…procedure.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes teasingly, “It’s not that big of a deal honestly, that Nami. Always the worrier, thank you for visiting me though, you’re a good friend, Sanji.” You look away before you can notice Sanji’s face falling.

You look back at him, “Oh, could you take me home? I probably shouldn’t be driving right now.” you laugh quietly and scan Sanji’s face. His mind seemed to be somewhere else, perhaps he was really busy at the restaurant. “If you can, if not I’ll just call Nami.”

“No,” he clears his throat, “Yeah I can take you home.”

You offer him a smile, “Thanks, hey I think I may have to fill out some paperwork. Could you grab it while I go change?” You begin to stand up slowly before he rushes over to help you up.

You look up at him to thank him again when you realize his eyes are watering.

Weird.

Your eyebrows knit in worry, “Hey, are you okay?”

He blinks rapidly while looking away from you. His hand lets go from his grasp on your arm and runs it through his blonde hair while turning away from you. “Yeah, I’m fine.” he coughs, “Uh, I’m gonna go look for those papers.”

He walks out of the room before you can respond, leaving you slightly confused but you shake it off before you begin to look for your clothes.

You don’t see Sanji standing outside the doorway, coughing up a flower petal.

#astraariel♡#one piece #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader

821 notes · View notes

unholyhelbig · 2 months

Note

any chance for a kate x reader angst?

Title: Firecrest (Part 1/???)

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4075

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activities, fire, mentions of childhood abandonment, horrible grammar (I don't proofread lol), and things I'm sure I'm forgetting.

[A/n: how about enemies to lovers angst? How about Enemies to lovers with a little fake dating sprinkled in there? Let me know if this is something you all would like to see continued!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Your mother had the in-depth beauty of a street dog. Her features were angular, yet soft and welcoming. People were often tempted to reach and run their fingers through her fur. But she tended to gently correct. She had the perfect demeanor for a government spy. However, you had always known her as a brilliant biochemist. Alluring in her brilliance.

The soft lights of the city shaded her face in the back of the taxi. The air had warmed significantly, but the low hum of the air conditioner made you pull your suit jacket close to your breast. The maroon had felt like too much at first. But the impressed nod from the woman next to you was enough to ebb away any doubts.

Your mother popped open her compact and swiped her finger against the corner of her mouth, taking away the smudged gloss that wasn’t noticeable in comparison to her presence. There was not much you feared in this world, but her wrath. Her annoyance. Her disappointment. None of which she flashed often.

“Remember what we talked about, y/n.”

“Of course. Would you like me to repeat it?”

She snapped the compact and leveled you with amusement. Her eyebrow lifted, the start of a smile at the corner of her lip. She couldn’t be serious. You made eye contact with the taxi driver in the mirror. He showed the same amusement that your mother did, yet somehow, hers stung more.

A groan escaped you, but bled into the mantra that was drilled into you for the past two weeks. “I will be the perfect lady who is grateful for the success of Lance and his political circuit.”

“And?”

“I will not start anything I can’t finish with Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, And I’m an adult perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“That wasn’t part of it.” Your mother corrected softly. Her hands were suddenly on you, smoothing down the lapel of your suit. “But It’ll do. Mostly, because we’re here.”

Eleanor Bishop often held her galas in the historic buildings of downtown Manhattan. There were small pamphlets lingering by the extensive hand-carved doors. They’d detail the rich family that had built it from the ground up. The architecture was always admittedly beautiful, and Eleanor had a subtle, expensive taste.

This venue was no different; stretching hallways and men in suits that mirrored yours in a tasteful black. Your mother never stepped ahead of you, instead holding a hand out and helping you from the back of the taxi. You’d left a generous tip, careful not to shove your hands into your pockets.

“This used to be a museum for fine arts and culture. The last I heard; the city was going to tear it down but made it a historical site. They use it for banquets now, I suppose.”

“Oh? You’ve read the informational booklet, then?”

She jabbed her elbow into your ribs and mocked a scowl. “No. I robbed it. How do you think we paid for your college tuition, kiddo?”

That was an exaggeration. You were 90% sure- maybe 75%. Bobbi Morse was a force to be reckoned with, and that was something you had learned from a young age. She’d let you sit on the counter of her lab while she worked, and you’d watch her with absolute awe.

Your mother had taught you, without fail, a variety of fighting skills. Starting with Aikido and ending with Taekwondo. She was a master at her craft, both in the field and in her lab and had worked with you since you could walk to train you in the same.

“Mm,” You hummed your response, “Which priceless painting did you take?”

“It was a vase, smart-ass.”

You pulled in a breath to retort before effectively being rendered silent by the performance hall. Eleanor Bishop had gone all out for the benefits that she backed. This was a vast space that was adorned in white sheer and glittering lights. A slideshow of the sponsored bird sanctuary flashed on the televisions scattered throughout the space.

There was a band on the stage, string instruments that you could feel in the center of your chest. The low notes shuddered through you as you took in the crowd. There were few that you actually recognized, usually hazed in expensive alcohol and lingering by the food, or some form of fresh air.

“It’s ironic that it’s about birds, right?”

She leveled you with an unimpressed look and squeezed your shoulder fondly. It didn’t take long for Lance to make his way over to the both of you. His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his freshly-shaved face. He gave you a small wave, gently exiting the conversation he was having with a congressman, a millionaire, or an architect that was just the right amount of desperate.

Lance Hunter had stolen your mothers heart when you were ten years old. You always assumed it was the accent, but the more you got to know him, the more you understood his charms. Lance had never forced things with you, had never claimed to be your father.

There were quiet moments when he’d join you on the wrap-around porch of your family home and just sit. The two of you would watch the way the sun dipped behind the horizon, sipping on syrupy cans of soft drink. Eventually, you talked to him, and he listened with diligence.

“My girls,” he said, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead before sidling up next to Bobbi. They had effortlessly matched in a deep and royal blue that contrasted the ignited red of your own suit. You were the perfect epitome of a political family.

Eleanor Bishop had given you a brief nod of the head, signifying your presence. It was a silent warning told through blackened eyes: Behave.

Her diligent attention was enough to split your family up. You preferred to linger away from the stuffy socialites. Bobbi and Lance were required to mingle. You plucked a flute of bubbling champagne from a passing tray and moved towards one of the elegant support beams decorated with what you now learned, was real foliage.

The floral scent tickled the back of your throat, so you took a generous swallow and let the alcohol warm your stomach diligently. There had to be something interesting around here, away from the rest of the party. A plague or two that would further explain the venue.

A burst of forced laughter greeted your parents as they sidled up next to Jack and Eleanor. Lance had produced some campaign buttons, which the group took without hesitation. You had to admit, he was loveable and politician-worthy.

“Look at us, we match.”

You swallowed back a groan, not bothering to look over. A small noise still escaped you, and the grumble conveyed your exact disposition towards Kate Bishop. Disgust. Annoyance. The slightest bit of attraction. She overwhelmed your senses with her crisp, winter scent.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over at her. She was in red too, incredibly vibrant against her soft expanses of exposed skin. The dress had a dipping neckline, revealing the freckles that created constellations against her collarbone. She beamed with irritation. You’d never admit that she was captivating.

“I thought you were given explicit instructions to leave me be.” You said between gritted teeth.

She hummed and grasped the drink from your hand. Kate was calculated in her movements, wrapping her lips around the smudge of lipstick that you’d already created on the rim of the glass. She didn’t break eye contact, those slate orbs boring into you.

“We both know you’re the most interesting thing at these parties.”

“I’m not falling for your… charms, Kate Bishop. Your mother may have bought you out of our consequences last time. But, I have more at stake.”

She scoffed and set the now empty glass down on the nearest table. You knew damn well that Kate wasn’t absolved of accountability after your run-in a few months back. She held herself differently now, and it was a minute expression of her posture that caught your attention.

There was a small split at the corner of her lip, and a healing bruise just at her hairline. She’d attempted to use makeup to cover the abrasions, but you had a trained eye. You were your mother’s daughter. These were defensive wounds. And for just a moment, you worried that the Bishop’s had a heavier hand than you’d anticipated.

But then, Kate’s muscles flexed and her head lilted to the side, dark curls splaying over her shoulders. She had grown stronger. It wasn’t noticeable, or at least, it shouldn’t’ have been. But you knew every inch of her body and despite your forced separation, she’d grown steady of herself.

“Why should I be punished, when you’re the one who set the curtains ablaze.”

You leaned close enough to feel her body heat. To her credit, she didn’t step back. A ghost of a smirk was on her lips. You snarled your words. “And who’s fault was that?”

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know you’d get trigger happy with your powers when I went down on you.” She gave you a cocky pout. “Is that a new thing, or have you never been able to handle yourself in moments of pleasure?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from grasping at the strap on her dress, pulling her closer to you out of a burst of anger. The phantom look of confidence spread into a full-blown grin. You were exasperated, the familiar heat burning just under your skin.

It was true, you’d lost control for just a moment, with Kate Bishops head between your legs, one hand buried deep in her mess of tangled hair. As an orgasm washed over you, thighs shaking, your other hand had drifted too close to the drapes and had caught them ablaze.

Despite the both of you being adults, you were separated within an instant. Dragged embarrassingly away by your respective parental units after the fire was put out. The last you’d seen of her was reflected with the flashing red lights of a rumbling fire engine.

Kate had a devilish look in her eyes. “Harder, baby.”

“Ladies,”

It was a resolute sound that had you pulling apart as if she was a toxic entity. In your book, she was. Both hands landed in your pockets and the two of you looked sheepishly at Eleanor. She’d been keeping an eye on you, you were sure. And had made a direct line to you the second Kate had given you that salacious look.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bishop. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Kate coughed out something that sounded like ‘Kiss ass’ and covered it up with a doe-eyed look of innocence. She may not have been afraid of her mother, but you were terrified. Bobbi had a soft hand. It commanded you like a weapon, and you were happy to do what you were told.

Your own punishment had consisted of heavier training. Both mentally and physically to perfect control that you’d had mastered years ago when you were nothing but a girl with streaks of tears dripping from your chin. The fire had been too strong then, overwhelming and horrible.

“Good evening, Miss Morse, I trust you’ve found a way to entertain yourself during the benefit that isn’t antagonizing my daughter.” Before you could answer, she turned her attention to Kate. “And you. I specifically allowed you to bring a guest in attempts to keep you away from Bobbi’s little arsonist.”

She had been under the full impression that you’d taken a zippo to the hanging drapes. It was the white-hot flames that leaked from your own fingers that had done the damage. Kate was thankfully tight-lipped about the fact, and you let the socialite think whatever she wanted. She hadn’t pressed charges.

Kate pulled her shoulders back, almost looking offended at the name you were tagged with. Almost. “Clint got stopped at the front for an autograph, mom. I’m just biding my time.”

“Bide it somewhere else. We’ve talked about this.”

Eleanor gave you a tight-lipped smile that had noticeably softened compared to the venomous expression she held for Kate. A light squeeze was delivered to your arm. It had always scared you how quick she could switch like that. Her shoulders pulled back as she wandered back over to her group.

Lance lifted his chin in your direction. Silently asking if everything was okay, and it was. His quiet reassurance brought the heat licking at your stomach to a bubbling halt. Why you cared more about Eleanors disposition towards Kate, then her acidity directed at you, was beyond something you were willing to confront.

“Who’s Clint?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Can we have a normal conversation, please. Is it so shocking that I’d take interest in your friends?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yes. If you must know, he’s not a friend. He’s a mentor. He’s, my partner.”

Both of your eyebrows lifted. Partner in what? It wasn’t something you would audibly voice, save you show any concern past the normal amount that you usually had for Kate. The tautness of her muscles, and the superficial injuries made that discomfort return to the pit of your stomach.

Kate was an archer. You knew such from the trophies that littered her dresser the one time you’d been privy to her room. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid much attention. You were backed against her door and her teeth were scraping against your pulse point. But the little gold figures and the child-sized bow on the wall was enough to of a giveaway.

You only knew one archer, and you knew him distantly; from photos that your mother had blacked out with a sharpie. She’d later told you that she regretted the fact because the memories of the three of you would always remain.

The taste of bile filled your throat and Kate lilted her head to the side, like a golden retriever that had heard a piercing noise. There was a surprising amount of concern in her voice. “You okay? You’re looking a little green.”

“Hm? Yeah. Totally. The champagne is just sitting weird.”

A frown had found its way onto your face, and you directed your attention back to the crowd. It seemed that Eleanor was satisfied enough with the two of you lingering in silence. You were trained to know where the exits were in any venue. Kate’s stare shockingly darted in the same pattern as your own.

People had trickled in until the floor was bustling with conversation. You let your shoulders relax in the slightest bit, swallowing back the acrid taste in your mouth. Eleanor had lost her viewpoint of you and her daughter, and you weren’t much in the mood for fighting her on pure proximity.

“There you are, god, I didn’t know this many people cared about birds.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your narrowed eyes from flashing to the intrusion. Whatever distracted Kate was enough to be deemed a savior in your book. But the voice was familiar, painfully so. It was as if your body reacted by busting out in goosebumps, chills rushing down your spine.

Now, you wanted your mother to be able to see you. You were a strong, and capable adult that knew at least six different ways to kill a person without a weapon. You’d gone on missions with your mother, with your Aunt Daisy, too. A simple man in a simpler suit should not make your knees weak.

Yet- here he was. In a charcoal black ensemble with a pocket square that was a flash of purple. It was a color you’d grown to despise. It was an eyesore, as was the man that stood at a height taller than Kate, but just a few inches.

You’d found a singular picture of him that wasn’t defaced in your mother’s nightstand. A polaroid of the three of you on the beach. The sun had turned your cheeks a flushed pink. He had you in his arms and beamed at the camera. Eyes matching the blue of the ocean.

They were the same now, the same vibrancy that you’d thought about. He looked other, worn from parenthood and the effects of time. Of course, you’d seen him on television, but Bobbi had always been quick to flick it off, only lingering during the Sokovia accords.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, but you were careful to keep your jaw stock still. You weren’t going to give Clint Barton the satisfaction of rattling you. Not here, not if he ever decided to show up when you had a family of your own. Not on your deathbed. He couldn’t invoke that from you.

Kate had learned to pick up on body language, and she had learned fast. Her stare shifted between both you, and Clint. She had the right amount of perception to keep her mouth shut, even taking half an inch step back. She was in a position to hold the two of you apart, if need be.

“Holy shit,” He breathed out, “Sparky.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.”

You were taken aback by your own ability to produce words. They were pinched and had dropped down an octave to true anger. Not the type that Kate Bishop was used to. Sure, you had aggravation directed towards her, but nothing short of teasing.

Clint took a slight step towards you, and you took a large one back, nearly bumping into the support beam wrapped with vines and vibrant flowers. Your hand reached out to grab onto it for support, but Kate’s fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. Right. Yes. That would be the safe bet.

You needed to find Bobbi.

Chances were, Clint hadn’t seen her with the growing attendance. You could slip out through the large storm doors that were a few feet behind you. At least then, you could burn scorch marks into the grass and not into this historical building.

“What is happening?” Kate said, refusing to remove her hand from your wrist. You didn’t wrench it away, either. It was a force, a grounding factor. You refused to let the fire move past your fingertips in fear that it would burn her. “Clint?”

“She uh… She’s…”

The words died in his throat. You couldn’t’ stand looking at him, pale as ice and wringing his hands nervously. He couldn’t hold still, but you were like a stone. Almost as if he would vanish the second you averted your stare.

“I’m his daughter.”

Kate’s hand did move from your wrist and to your hand, almost out of instinct. Your relationship, or lack-there-of, had never required this kind of closeness. But She was hanging on tightly, nails digging into your skin. The slight sting brought you back.

Clint croaked “How’s your mother?”

Kate winced and you felt the spring in your spine loosen. He was more nervous than you were and that gave you an advantage. “You can ask her yourself. She and Lance are mingling.”

“Lance is here?”

“Of course.”

He was running for congressman. It would damage his campaign if he hadn’t shown up. The gossip blogs that followed the lives of New Yorks Elite had picked up on the rift between you and Kate. There were a few grainy photos of the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in foil blankets that made you look like Baked potatoes. There was soot on her chin, and you had wiped the darkness away with your thumb. Of course, that had been the moment they caught and wrote about, and plastered all over the internet.

Clint worked his jaw and cupped the back of his neck with a tepid smile. It wavered incessantly. He was boyish in his charm and that would always be the case, no matter how old he got. You knew he had a family now. A real family that didn’t’ consist of a secret agent and their match-happy daughter.

You gave Kate a squeeze with your free hand, signaling that you were fine. The last thing you wanted to appear was weak. She seemed to get the message loud and clear, wrenching her touch away with a nervous clearing of her throat.

“I’m sorry… Can we back up for a second?”

Clint had a dejected look in his eyes that almost made you feel a twinge of guilt. Almost. Your own ego often got in the way of things, and this was one of them. There was a flood of emotions between both of the archers, a silent pleading to hear him out.

“You and Mrs. Morse dated?”

“They were married.” You snatched another glass of campaign, this one all for yourself. You swallowed the acrid drink and let the bubbles assault your throat. “When did the divorce finalize, again?

“Y/n”

“No, I was never really privy to the details myself.”

“We shouldn’t do this here.”

You finished off the rest of the drink, a certain amount of your defenses lower. You felt warm, but not warm enough to do something stupid. He was right. You shouldn’t do this here and if you had your way, you wouldn’t’ do it anywhere. You were perfectly content to let this man slip back into oblivion and train the Bishop heiress that you had a habit of bedding.

Clint seemed to let out a sigh of relief when you nodded in agreement. He scrutinized you both, the rush of initial shock ebbing away like a melting lake. Chunks of ice broke off and gave way to the familiarity and closeness the two of you held. It was relaxed, despite the rivalry that landed you here in the first place.

“No,” he drawled out, “No, no, no. Kate, you didn’t’.”

The tips of her ears were red enough to match your suit and the color that painted her own lips. She hid her face in her hands with a groan. But you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her against your side.

“Does that bother you, old man?”

It clearly did. Kate leveled you with a delicious glare that was unmatched but didn’t’ move from your hold. Was she letting you have this? You weren’t entirely sure. He was whipping his head back and fourth with enough force to break his own neck. It was making you dizzy, but giddy all the same.

Your moment of joy at his dismay was short lived. You caught the sharp scent of your mothers perfume. She’d cut through the crowd and furrowed her brow at your closeness to Kate. It took her a few moments to realize that Clint was here. To realize that he was the man that had spurred your act of rebellion in doing the exact opposite of what she’d requested at the start of the night.

Her cool eyes took him in just as yours had. Kate was still next to you, swallowing a dryness in her throat that you could nearly hear. Bobbi didn’t attempt to separate you as Eleanor had. Instead, she gave you a quiet stare. “Darling, I think it’s time we go. There’s a situation we have to attend to.”

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure.”

It hadn’t been, but you shocked yourself and Kate by leaning in and pressing a kiss just behind her ear, still blazing with blush. She froze but gave you the slightest bit of nod. Clint opened and closed his mouth like a surfaced fish, but kept quiet.

Your mother walked with a purpose, her shoulders pulled back and an elegance to her sway. You didn’t look back, keeping time with her as she weaved through the crowd and towards the lobby that was ten degrees cooler and much, much more welcoming.

“Is there actually a situation, or is this your attempt at a rescue?”

She ignored your question, stopping and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft look in her eyes that made your stomach squirm. “Are you okay, sweetie? I had no idea that he’d be here. I never would have made you come.”

“I’m fine, mom.” She didn’t seem convinced, so you added “Really.”

Eventually, Bobbi relented with a shaky sigh and cupped your cheek in a comforting manner. “Good. Okay. Good. Because we do have a situation.”

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Kate bishop x reader #Hawkeye #Hawkeye fanfiction #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #hurt/comfort #Ask #bobbi morse #lance hunter #mockingbird #clint barton #Reader has fire powers

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mikaela-the-slut-expert · 5 months

Note

If you do take requests at this moment, can I request a Hualian x GN reader where reader feels like the third wheel, and when Hualian look further into reader, they find out that reader is hurting themselves/trying to change in the way they look

That Hualian would baby reader, like take sharp objects out of arm’s reach, or spoon feed reader when it’s time to eat. Giving reader kisses and words of affirmation every time they’re around

Lol, I’m feeling very angsty, but if this request is a little too far, you don’t have to do it (I hope you’re doing great! Make sure to drink enough water!) 🥰

Shape Shifting Heart

HuaLian x gn!reader

Ignore grammar mistakes

Slight OOC

Made up looks about reader for plot

Tyyy Pepsi zero has become my hydration 😔🙏

Also I'm so sorry for disappearing but I've had like the worst few months of my life ever so 😃🙏 bear with me

____________________________________

Being with Xie Lian and San Lang is the best thing that has ever happened to you. There's so much love to go around with three people and everyone is always taking care of each other! So you never listened to people being hateful about it, whether that be other gods or ghosts. You guys are happy and that all that matters right?

What happens when all of you aren't happy, when it's just one person bringing down the mood and the whole relationship? That's how you've been feeling lately. You haven't been much use to Xie Lian and San Lang these days. Often, you've been curled up in bed and staying hidden under the covers. For what reason? They don't know. You won't talk to them, and while Xie Lian and San Lang pride themselves on knowing you inside and out they can't figure out what's wrong.

You can't tell them. It's kind of embarrassing, humiliating even. How do you tell your lovers, "I feel like the third wheel, I feel neglected and left out" to the two kindest people you've ever met. Everything you do seems to make it worse and you're trying your best so you don't understand why it seems to put your relationship more on edge.

You had honestly just wanted to sulk and pout for a few days in bed over something silly. When they stopped visiting the bedroom it became a problem. All you do is lie here so what could possibly have made them want to leave you alone? You aren't even doing anything to warrant them off! Xie Lian and San Lang easily coddle each other all the time so why don't they think to do it with you? They stopped coming to the shared bedroom, even going as far to sleep in another bedroom together, but by themselves without you.

It only made you feel worse, are you so depressed and off putting they don't want to be near you now? Sadness becomes frustration and it fuels you to get out of bed in what has been weeks. You leave the room disheveled and groggy hoping to find one of your lovers to receive some affection, to you it feels like you haven't had in forever.

You find them together in the kitchen, an awfully domestic scene. Xie Lian cooking dinner and San Lang attached by the hip. The way San Lang holds Xie Lian's waist and stays close while Xie Lian bustles around the kitchen. Where you had once been and would usually love to hear the sound of their laughs and love filled giggles all it sounds like is mocking joy of what you once felt. How many nights has it been like this? How many nights have they been content without you?

"Making dinner without me?" You pipe up, leaning against the kitchen counter. Making dinner is a silly thing to be upset about. A part of you feels awful for being so jealous but the other doesn't. It's not like you're jealous of San Lang or jealous of Xie Lian. You don't spite a specific person. You're just jealous of the love they share, of their bond. You're envious of their happiness, you just want to be included too!

"Ah, y/n!", Xie Lian gives a wobbly smile, "Of course not" Xie Lian didn't know how to bring up that they've been trying to give you space. He doesn't know how to say it in a way that would sound reasonable to you. These days you've been a little irritated and you easily take words they say but add a whole new meaning to it. They know it's not your fault, it's one of your episodes maybe.

No one moves. They don't know whether to extend a hand to invite you or not but you seem to take it upon yourself. You walk closer and stick right up to Xie Lian's and San Lang's side. The tension - you can't tell if you're imagining it or not, you've been imagining a lot these days - is thick. "Well I feel a little better so I'll join from now on, what are you making?" You try to make conversation, you try to move closer in hopes that the domestic scene will just continue.

It doesn't. The room is tense and so are your lovers. You hate it. It makes you want to lash out, cry, and scream. Xie Lian and San Lang seem to be walking on eggshells around you and you don't know why. You've never gotten angry with them before, you've never been violent or aggressive with them so why are they acting like you're a ticking bomb?

San Lang attempts to break the tense atmosphere first. Wrapping hesitant hands around your waist and nuzzling into your hair, hair he will not mention is a bit notty. "We missed you" he murmurs into your long, bright locs. "We're glad you feel better" this seems to get the night moving smoothly again. It's pathetic how quickly you melt into San Lang's touch and preen at his words. It finally feels like you're included in the domestic picture they make.

The three of you eat dinner and enjoy it, Xie Lian's cooking has been getting a lot better but that's probably because you and San Lang were in the kitchen to help him. You're filled with a deep satisfaction when Xie Lian gently grabs your hand and all of you go to your shared bedroom together. Xie Lian pulls you into bed and They cuddle up next to you under the covers, placing gentle kisses on your face and shoulders.

You feel suddenly energetic because of the affection you're receiving. Making you giggle and kissing them back with new found passion. You won't lie you guys haven't had sex in a while so. . . You easily climb on San Lang, and straddle his hips. Kissing him eagerly and nipping against his lips. They weren't expecting you to be so eager but who are they to deny you.

Xie Lian gets behind you and slips off your robe, running his hands over your body. Your back, arms, hips, and thighs- your thighs. Xie Lian's hands freeze, and moves his hands as if he's been scalded. The sudden movement catches San Lang's attention and he sits up but he keeps you in his lap. "Gege what's wrong?" San Lang stares at Xie Lian and suddenly all the attention is off you. Somewhere inside you, you feel a little miffed at Xie Lian's reaction.

But you're concerned too so you turn your head to your other lover with concerned eyes, however Xie Lian is the one staring at you with pity. He turns on the light and sits next to San Lang. "His thighs, San Lang. . ." You scrunch your face. Of course that's what Xie Lian reacted so strongly about. While you were rotting in bed you were feeling so down in the dumps. So- so maybe you took it out on yourself and used your sword on your own skin.

It's not that big of a deal, they're already healed and just remain thick scars across your thighs but it matters to your lovers greatly. They've explored your body many times, and they know these are new. "Baobei, what happened?" Xie Lian cups your face with gentle hands but you turn your head the other way. You're irritated the night has stopped over something so trivial. "Nothing important, I was just feeling upset a few weeks ago, it's trivial now. Can't we just- can we not focus on that?"

Your face is scrunched in irritation and you try to roll your hips against San Lang but he removes you from his lap and onto the silk covers. You groan in frustration. The night was going perfectly and now it's all messed up! San Lang's eyes narrow as he gazes over your legs, and you swallow nervously. "This isn't something we can just ignore Y/n. You know that. . . Let's stop here for tonight" If it were San Lang saying it you wouldn't have minded as much but it's Xie Lian.

Xie Lian loves San Lang's body even with the scars on it so why won't he love yours?! "We don't have to stop! Just- ignore it, would you please?! I can get rid of them, I can look like whatever you want me to be! " You never notice when you start heaving for breath, when tears line your eyes and you try to cling to one of your lovers. You don't notice when you subconsciously change your body into something else because it's something you've always had the power to do.

So when your skin becomes smooth again, and unmarked it's something you don't even look over. But for Xie Lian and San Lang it's completely different. It's like looking at a stranger's body. Like looking at somebody who's never worked a day in their life, someone who has never gone to battle, something you are not but you're desperately trying to be. You have no scars, and the callouses on your hands have disappeared. They've memorized everything on you and now you've made yourself look completely different.

To you, it feels like they look at you with disgust and anger. You're breaking down and it's not something you're even registering. "Y/n stop!" San Lang gives up on keeping you on the bed and he lets you crawl into his lap, he cups your face with surprisingly gentle hands that contradict his angry voice. "Breathe Baobei" he rubs comforting circles into your hips and Xie Lian rubs your back. They're trying to get you to breathe and to stop hyperventilating.

San Lang never looks away from you, and he plants tiny kisses in your cheeks to get rid of your tears. When did you start crying? You don't remember. You eventually calm down from listening to your lovers instructions and their loving touches. When you're finally breathing normally again and the tension leaves your body they try talking to you again. Xie Lian rubs his fingers through your hair, he doesn't like how you've easily changed yourself. He misses your bright locs not the dark ones you've decided to take on. He kisses your head. "I want to talk to my Y/n now. Can I?" Xie Lian asks sweetly.

You've always been you but he wants to talk to his lover not the made up version of yourself. You sniffle and San Lang pats your waist. You take the encouragement and change back to your original body. When you make a weird noise in your throat that sounds close to a sob Xie Lian wraps around you and kisses your nape. "That's good Baobei, we're proud of you." San Lang and Xie Lian glance at each other and in that moment decide to drop the topic about your new found scars. They can only try to find the root of the issue now.

San Lang kisses your forehead and then below your eyes and then your lips. "Tell us what's wrong?" San Lang poses it as a question. As in, you don't have to but it would greatly help them if you did. You feel pathetic and selfish. You don't know why you broke down over something so silly and foolish. "I-I felt, I felt like a t-third wheel. You guys seem so happy without me and all I do is mess up, I'm sorry " you start to cry again and you rub at your eyes harshly but San Lang holds your wrists gently and keeps them away from your eyes.

Xie Lian kisses your shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry for baobei. No one's at fault." He runs his hands over your thighs, making circles with his fingers. "We didn't mean to make you feel left out, we just wanted to give you space. We thought that's what you needed" Xie Lian explains softly. You nod and sniffle. That's more reasonable than whatever your mind came up with. San Lang pulls you closer by the waist. "If we make you feel like that tell us Baobei, we'll fix it immediately" he says with narrowed eyes. You know he isn't upset with you and he's probably beating himself up for not being able to tell. You kiss him deeply and sigh against his lips.

"M'sorry, I know you love me I just- my mind tells me awful things." You whisper in San Lang's lips and kiss him again. San Lang grunts and playfully tugs a piece of your hair. "Should I beat it up for you?" It makes you giggle.

🦊🪷

For the next few days and even few weeks they baby you endlessly. Xie Lian keeps an eye on sharp objects and makes sure you can't get into the weapons room. He also confiscated your sword and he won't even let you hold knives in the kitchen. The only sword you're allowed to be around is E'ming and they know you wouldn't do that to him or San Lang.

They have no problem with dragging you everywhere they go and often San Lang likes to feed you during meals. At first you blushed and insisted you could do it yourself but San Lang waved your concerns away and said "Let me take care of you". They coddle you a lot and one of them is always in the room with you. You know now that you need to work on your communication and not let your mind get to you. It was a big misunderstanding but San Lang and Xie Lian treat it as if it was a genuine problem.

You're suffocated with love but you wouldn't change it for the world.

#tgcf #tgcf headcanon #hualian #hualian x reader #hua cheng x reader #tgcf hua cheng #tgcf hualian #tgcf x male reader #tgcf xie lian #xie lian x reader #mxtx tgcf #tgcf angst

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look-me · 3 months

Text

“𝑷𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑬𝑺𝑺”

masc!reader x dealer!abby

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warnings: fingering, using of weed, semi-public sex, r!receiving, idk what else lol

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au: a/u:please don’t mind any grammar mistakes and please cuz english its not my native language. ps. i never write a smut. also i’ll probably won’t correct any mistakes cuz i’m too lazy for it😭 (edit. omg this is shitty how can y’all read this😭)

part 1

part 2

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Smoking together with abby means: she smokes and you drink some beer because she knows you don't smoke.

You met her a long time ago when some friends of yours were too embarrassed to ask her for weed, so they sent you instead.

At first, you hated Abby because everyone always said "she's hot," "I want to have sex with her," etc. You thought people were exaggerating about her until you saw her for the first time.

Your friends were damn right.

She was a goddess: masculine, tall, muscular, dark blonde hair braided in a fishtail, pale freckled skin, and blue eyes.

Everything you liked together. Let's just say the truth. You got a crush on her immediately.

You loved masculine women more than your life, but we all know that masc4masc women are almost impossible. You tried to be more feminine once, but it made you uncomfortable, and you knew that being masculine wouldn’t make you attractive to other mascs, so you got used to having a crush on a masc but then letting your eyes get off of her immediately because it was useless.

{ "Like for real, can't you go and ask her yourself?"

"ARE YOU CRAZY? ARE YOU ASKING ME TO GO TALK TO ABBY FUCKING ANDERSON?!" you turn your head to your other friend.

"Ash, come on, please..."

"Don't look at me, I like her too."

Fuck...

You had no other choice but to talk to Abby.

You were behind a tall guy, so you couldn't see Abby at all. The moment the guy in front of you got away, freeing your view, you melted inside.

"Hey, can I have some of your good stuff?" Abby stared at you for a bit, thinking you were just playing around with her.

"So? Are we going to be here all night, or are you going to give me some cannabis so I can leave?"

"You don't look like a girl who smokes cannabis."

"Just give me the fucking weed, man."

"Watch your mouth, princess," she said, smirking all the time while talking to you.

Princess?

Just when you were about to say something back, you got a call.

"No, I haven't taken it yet. I'll be back in a second."

Abby watched you, a bit confused, but she was understanding something.

"My friends were too embarrassed to come get it themselves, and they're also in a hurry. Can you just give me the weed and let me go?"

Bingo, she was right.

You gave her the money, and she finally gave it to you.

"Told you, you don't look like a girl who smokes."

"I don't want to be drug-obsessed like my fucking father." you say nonchalant

From that phrase, her smirk disappeared, and everything changed from Abby's perspective. You went back to your friends, and you guys hung out for a bit. After your friends got tired of walking, you sat down at some typical stairs with them, where they could smoke with no problems.While you were chatting with them, you saw a familiar woman walking towards your direction, Abby.You didn't care that much because those stairs were full of people smoking, drinking, or just chilling out. Your friends quietly freaked out when they saw her but without being noticeable. At first, you thought she knew someone in all this mess until your friends noticed her coming literally towards your direction.

"Hey princess, can you come here for a second?" she said with that fucking smirk.

You swore to God you wanted to rip it off her face.

You hesitated for a few seconds and then went down the stairs to reach her. She walked up to you, breaking the little space you had created between you two, and you were a few inches away from her.

"What do you want? If it's about the money, don't even try to argue with me. The money wasn't mine, and it wasn't any of my business, so you can go argue with my frien—"

"Shut up." You froze at this phrase and were getting ready for anything that could happen.

"Just wanted your number in case you want other things from me."

"I told you already, I don't smoke. If you want, I can give you one of my friend's numbers."

"You came reaching for me, not them."

You turned your head back to look at your friend and then back at Abby.

"Listen, Abby, each one of my friends right there has a crush on you. If I give you my number, they will get mad at me and think I'm trying to have something with you, trying to make them jealo—"

"Well, fuck them then." Abby put her arm behind your back, pushing you a little to make you walk with her until you were right next to her.

"What are you doing?"

"Relax."

"I hate you." She laughed at your sentence.

While you two walked away, Abby started a conversation with you, and you guys talked almost all night. When you had to leave, she insisted on having your number, saying she didn't care about your friends.

Since that day, you two enjoyed your time together more.

Funny, right?

Back to the present

There was a quiet silence between you two until...

"What's up with you?" Abby said, turning her head to look at you.

"Huh?"

"You're quiet today, something you barely are."

"It's nothing," you said, taking a small sip of your beer without looking at her.

"You're lying"

"I'm not, Abigail."

At that name, she turned to you, placed her hand on your shoulder, and pushed you a little. "Don't put the mean masc on me right now. You know you're not."

You rolled your eyes in response.

"Tell me what's going on, princess."

Princess.

A stupid nickname she gave you for playing around and not the way you wished she used it for you.

"I just... like a girl who doesn't like me back." At this phrase, Abby removed her back from the wall you two were sitting against and sat in front of you.

"And why doesn't this bitch"

"Don't call her that, Abby"

"Fine, fine," she said in an annoying tone while she carried her joint close to her lips and held it in, letting a puff of gray smoke out.

"She's just not into me."

"Don't lie to me. I know there's more."

"Oh my God, Abby."

"What? Can't I know why this bitch doesn't want you?" She kept her serious and attractive tone all the time. Why does she have to do that?

"Abby."

"Come on, Y/N."

"She's not into mascs, so I'm not her type at all. Caring and shit. She won't ever see me like that."

"It's not that big of a deal then"

"It is for me."

"Let me guess, she's a masc too."

"Yeah."

"You'll find someone else who's better than her."

"See, that's why I can't talk with you."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Abby, you never had a serious relationship. You've never been really in love. You literally flirt with 100 women every hour."

"That doesn't mean I can't give you my advice."

"Yeah, easy for you to say that. You can have every girl you want, and they will come to you with no second thoughts."

"What does it have to do with me, Y/N?" she said with her typical tone, even if irritated.

"Nothing, you don't understand," you said, looking away from her and taking another sip of your beer.

"Then what's the problem?"

"None, let's just forget about this."

"Now you tell me."

"I said, there's no problem."

"You know I'm not some of your stupid friends. Think about how you treat me," she said like she was about to kill you, but you ignored her completely.

"I'm talking to you," she said, grabbing your face with one of her veiny hands to face her.

"The problem is she's right in front of me," you said without noticing, irritated by the action she just did, removing her hand from your face brutally.

Oh fuck.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't mean it, I'm just mad." You didn't look at her, but with the corner of your eye, you saw a smirk appearing on her face.

"Abby, I'm drunk now. You can't take what I say seriously."

"A drunk person doesn't know she's drunk."

"Can you shut the fuck up?" After your sentence, Abby grabbed you by the neck and pulled you towards her face. You could literally see all her little freckles that you can't normally see.

"How many times do I have to tell you to watch your mouth, princess?"

"Abby, let me go. You're high," you said, trying to let go of her hand by trying to stand up but failing and falling on her lap.

"I can handle all of this more than you," she said, wrapping her hands around your waist.

"Abby, don't do things you're going to regret later."

"I'm not going to."

"Abby, seriously, I'm not any of your bitches. Don't fucking play with me."

"Watch your attitude with me, Y/N," she whispered, then slowly kissed your lips. Your mind started spinning so fast, and your heart was about to explode. One of her hands moved from your waist and slid into your pants. Her fingers made a connection with your clothed pussy.Slowly, her finger ran up your slit through your panties.

"Abby.."

"I'm right here, princess," she said as she applied more pressure, causing you to whimper, your hips bucking into her finger that wouldn't stop running through your slit. "Tell me, baby, who told you I wasn't into you, huh?" she said with a smirk plastered on her face. You didn't respond, too shocked by the situation. "Look at me." You hid yourself even more in her neck, too afraid of what could happen. "Y/N, I said look at me." You moved your head from her neck to face her. Those blue eyes were eating you alive.

"You're such a good girl." Abby pushed your panties to the side, and you moaned instantly, your body jerking as she slipped a finger inside you. "Look at you, so sweet and caring, kinda turns me on," she said, adding another finger into you while giving you hickeys on your exposed neck. All of this was unbelievable to you, so without caring too much, you started riding on her fingers. Her lips sucking on your neck, her fingers going in and out of your pussy, it was too much pleasure that you came right after hearing Abby moan in satisfaction.

"Fuck... Abby," you said, trying to catch your breath again, resting your head on her neck while she removed her hand from your panties and licked her fingers from your juices. You took a few seconds to realize what happened, and when you did, you tried to get away from Abby's grip, hoping you could run away and never see her again so you could drown your feelings for her, until you felt a pressure keeping you down.

"Where are you going, princess? You're stuck with me now," she said while her hands made their way under your shirt, caressing your back.

"I don't believe you, Abigail."

"Call me that name again, and I'Il find a way to shut this little pretty mouth of yours."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"Don't worry, I'll show you who you belong to."

"Fuck you," you said, not looking at her.

You knew she probably just used you as her sex toy, so you tried your best not to fuck her off and run away.

Part 2?😭

#abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #dealer!abby #abby x masc!reader #mechanic!abby #abby anderson drabble #dbf!abby #abby anderson x you #18+ mdni #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby smut #abby x reader #tlou smut #abby the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x masc reader #the last of us part two

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ddollfface · 3 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤…

Types of Readers Baki Men Would and Wouldn't Get Along With

Guys, I think I popped off... (don't say anything about my grammar)

Kaiou Retsu

Like: If we're talking about romantically, I think Retsu would be the best fit with somebody who's strong, confident, and level-headed. To be confident doesn't equate to being loud, instead, I'd think those who are the most silent are the most confident. If you have to scream out to the world that you're strong, then you're likely overcompensating. Retsu doesn't really like those who are loud (as mentioned above), seeing as he wants somebody who's always thinking of different outcomes, trying to defuse the situation as much as possible, but also having strong morals that he aligns with. Retsu would get along best with someone who loves to communicate and is emotionally mature, that is, if you ever want to have a long-lasting relationship with him.

Dislike: Honestly, I think somebody who's very immature and can't sit still. Retsu is very calm, always observing, and then reacting. He doesn't like to be brash or make split-second decisions because he feels that they'll never amount to anything productive (though he does have his moments lol). But, overall, I do think that Retsu would freeze if he was ever around, or romantically involved with a reader who's very confident, loud, and just scatterbrained. It would freak him out, causing his brain to go into overdrive, and unlock all of his protective instincts. I mean, how do you expect him to react when he never knows what you're doing? You're always speaking your mind and acting on impulse! Who knows what trouble you'll get into!

Orochi Katsumi

Like: Katsumi needs someone who can keep up with him, someone who isn't afraid to come out of their shell eventually. He wants someone who’s charismatic, allowing for easy conversions between the two of you. Katsumi wants to date his best friend, his partner in crime, his ride or die, if you will. He won’t get along with someone unless they’re similar to him, in the basic sense. You don’t need to be extremely strong (though, he will find that very hot), too outgoing, or loud, you just need to share some common interests. He doesn’t mind someone who’s more introverted, but he does want to be that person they act a fool around, the person they let loose and be themselves, even if they’re still tame. Katsumi is a bratty kid at heart, and he wants special affection from his lover, something that only he can have. In return, they’ll have all his attention, his heart, and soul, something he’d never give to another person. (puppy!bf energy ngl)

Dislike: At first, I thought that Katsumi would absolutely loathe a shy darling, but the more I thought about it, I realized that he’d actually hate being with someone who’s aloof, or just disinterested (i.e. Shizuku from HXH). Katsumi loves to talk, to run his mouth all day, and if you’re not listening, then it’ll break his heart. He wants to be seen. Like I said in the paragraph above, he wants his lover to be his best friend, the person he relies on and looks to when in need (depending on the situation). Though I do agree with the idea that Katsumi is very egotistical, he’s still insecure (as are most with such a big ego) and cannot handle someone he holds so dear disregarding with ease. He doesn’t want to be replaceable, seeing as he doesn’t think of his darling as such. Therefore, he’s expectantly the same energy in return. He’s your ride or die, so you gotta match that energy, or else it’s over :/

Matsumoto Kozue (She's my wife btw)

Likes: Someone who’s playful, caring, and touchy (basically Baki lol). I like to think that Kozue enjoys soft, wholesome relationships, finding comfort in light touches and laying in each other's arms. She wants to be held and cared for, and she holds herself to the same standard. She wants someone who goes with the floor, understanding that life has its ups and downs, and overcoming things as they go. It puts her at ease to know that her partner is competent enough to assess the situation and not get emotionally stunted. Kozue just needs stability in a relationship, and it can be shown in different ways depending on the person she’s dating/and their preferences. You don’t need to be verbally affectionate, telling her that everything is going to be alright, instead, you can use your actions. There are plenty of ways to provide stability, and Kozue eats it up every time.

Dislikes: Someone who is really hothead and can’t handle change, someone who’s insecure in themselves. Their insecurity (and I mean aggressive insecurity, where they push it onto others, Katou) makes her nervous and it just settles a horrible foundation in the relationship. She gets fidgety, constantly worrying that they’ll have an outburst/mental breakdown. Kozue is a sweetheart, so she obviously cares for her darling, not wanting them to feel unloved and have panic attacks, but it’s difficult since they won’t let her in. She needs someone who’s both physically and emotionally available, someone who won’t push her away when they’re mad. Of course, it makes sense to want space when you’re angry, but when you’re constantly angry, refusing to talk things through, and resorting to violence to get what you want, it’s a no-go for her.

Kiyosumi Katou

Likes: If you were to ask Kiyosumi what his type is, then he’d tell you with a wide grin that he likes them dumb and fuckable, playing up this playboy facade (that majority of people see through). Maybe he’ll even add a cheeky laugh, saying that a shy thing would be pretty cute too, but don’t be fooled. This man is so needy, wanting any affection he can get. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not a cinnamon roll or whatever the fuck. Kiyosumi is a grown man with some… violent tendencies, and manipulative ones as well. He isn’t mature and acts brash whenever he can, overestimating himself when face-to-face with a stronger opponent. Nevertheless, Kiyousmi wants a lover who’s motherly, or caring, someone who’ll listen and look through his little facade, caring for him even though he’s being an ass. Or in other words, he just wants patience. Deep down Kiyosumi understands that he’s not the easiest to get along with, but once you get past his original cocky attitude and bitchy presence, then you’ll meet a new side of him. A side that’s far calmer, no longer instigating and picking fights, just watching. If anything, he becomes a little pouty (lol), and he’s far more clingy, wanting more domestic affection. But do keep in mind that this will take years to build up to, he needs a foundation of trust to let himself calm down. Once he realizes that you aren’t going anywhere, then he treats you with care

Dislikes: He loathes stupid people, and I mean genuinely stupid, like a bimbo, not reckless stupid. He cannot maintain a conversation with someone who cannot comprehend that people in the ‘20s could in fact see color… Though he wouldn’t mind fucking around with a bimbo, having a one-night stand and such, he wouldn’t be able to maintain a long-term relationship with them, nor would he be able to respect them. And that’s a pillar of trust for Kiyosumi, if he doesn’t respect you, then you’re not getting anywhere in the relationship. If Kiyosumi thinks you’re lesser than him (be it through smarts or strength), he’ll absolutely bully you to oblivion, never giving you a moment of rest. If he paired with someone genuinely stupid, no matter how kind they are, he would berate them, creating a toxic relationship. Yeah… I do not recommend, it really would just be a messy, one-sided relationship that would just end in tears.

Hanma Baki

Likes: This was a little difficult for me since Baki meshes so well with many different types of people, so thinking of a singular personality he goes with is unrealistic. Though if we’re talking about romantic partners, then I think that Baki would really like a S/O who’s kinda bratty, but in a nice way(?). He wants a back-and-forth, some type of conversation that’ll get a chuckle out of him every time he thinks about them. He’d like a comedic darling, whether their comedy is through dark humor, sarcasm, or just being a clutz, he doesn’t care. Baki just wants someone who’s a little lighthearted, who wants to make the situation more enjoyable through humor. This type of darling would have a brighter outlook on the world, seeing the world through a lens of low expectations and easy-flowing thoughts. They don’t have to be loud, nor do they have to be extremely talkative, Baki is okay with some silence. He doesn’t mind just enjoying each other’s presence, but I think he’d like someone with a sense of humor, being drawn in with their witty comebacks/comments.

Dislikes: Honestly, there are not many types of people Baki doesn’t get along with, seeing as he has an easy-going personality that most enjoy. That just means that if he doesn’t like you, then you’re likely a POS. I think that for Baki to not like you, and genuinely dislike your presence, you’d have to be extremely rude and not in a funny way. You’re just annoying and nit-picky, whilst having no accomplishments yourself. Similar to the expression ‘those who live in a glass home shouldn’t throw stones,’ Baki believes that if you haven’t accomplished anything and don’t relate to someone’s struggles, then keep your mouth shut. You don’t have a right to comment and berate others for trying hard, even if they don’t do too well, when you don’t strive for anything yourself. This type of person would just irk Baki, and there’s no way he’d be able to have a romantic (or platonic, for that matter) with them.

Hanma Yujiro

Likes: Okay, so this is kind of difficult for me to give an exact personality, seeing as Yujiro doesn’t really love. I don’t think he’s made for the romantic, homey type of love most people share with one another, instead, he was made for blood and war. A more primal love is fitting of him, a love might not be even love to begin with. Well, unless he respects you. I think what could really change the type of personality Yujiro likes depends on the type of romantic relationship he has with reader. If the relationship is that of a sugar baby/plaything, then expect the heartless playing that’s a mindfuck for the average person. But if it’s a genuine relationship, where Yujiro somehow got attached, then it’ll be quiet, a little eerie, but it resembles love far more than the usual mindfuck he gives people. I’m sure I could talk about this for days, so I’ll summarize by stating the basic things he’s looking for in both types of relationships.

For starters, Yujiro isn’t normal, the exact opposite actually. He’s the definition of an anomaly, the unusual, the rare, and irreplaceable. It’s likely that there will be no one like Hanma Yujiro to ever exist after he, eventually, dies, though some don’t even know if he’ll ever pass away. As to be expected, Yujiro wants to surround himself with the unusual, especially if they’re to be his “lover,” or plaything, depending on the relationship. He’s somewhat similar to a crow, he likes new things, things no one has ever seen, the unattainable. This means that you’d have to be crazy special, or hella courageous, to earn the respect of Yujiro. And those are the types of people who attract his affection. Yujiro loves to interact with those who discover new things, whether it be a new fighting style, historical movement, or social change. Though Yujiro is egotistical, I do think that Yujiro likes to learn. Yujiro wants to grow, to accomplish, and to conquer, and how will he do that without learning about the world around him? He wants to be the best at everything, so that’s why he wants a darling who’s a specialist.

This means that you’d have to be smart, extremely so, whether that intellectual talent comes from your brain or your instincts, it doesn’t matter to Yujiro. He sees both types as valuable assets. I do think that he’d mingle better with someone who’s on the more observant side, who’s able to read him like a book. That’s the type of person who’d catch his interest, and if they can maintain his interest for many years, then they’ve successfully earned his respect(?).

Dislikes: It’s safe to say that Yujiro doesn’t like many people. I could probably write a whole book on the many different types of personalities this man doesn’t mesh well with, but won’t because I think there’s a specific type of a person he absolutely despises, consistently that is. Those who are both lazy and chatty are the type that make Yujiro want to smash his head in, or theirs to be realistic, and I think it stems from his constant need to be fighting, moving, using his hands, anything. Yujiro doesn’t like small talk, wanting to just cut to the chase and get over with it, stop talking, and do some action for God’s sake! He hates mindless banter and believes that real men don’t use filler words to lighten the impact of what they say, instead, they should state their opinions with their chest. Because of this, I think that this would carry over to his love life (which is nonexistent, btw). Yujiro wants someone like himself in a sense, someone who knows when to shut up and just act. He gets pissed whenever a girl just talks his ears off, specifically not saying anything of substance, just babbling off about some useless crap he could care less about.

Biscuit Olivia

Likes: Honestly, he’s the opposite of Yujiro, instead of hating everyone, this man mixes pretty well. This is likely due to the fact he has quite the ego, leading to him having quite the confidence in everything he does, never doubting himself and how he interacts with others. That being said, I think that Olivia would like someone who’s humble, sweet, and happy. Someone who’s just content being alive and treats everyone with kindness. This type of darling is someone who, though they were kidnapped, and possibly forced into working at the prison, will still reciprocate Olivia’s affections, leaning into his touch, and smiling up at him with kind eyes. They’ll also have a sweet heart, not wanting to spend any of his money. I stand with the Sugar Daddy Olivia movement, there’s no doubt that this man spoils his darling rotten. He spends money on you because he wants to, ‘cause it makes you flush and smile whenever he gives you a bouquet of flowers. But it makes his heart swell, seeing you flush and refuse, saying that it’s far too expensive and that he shouldn’t be spending money left and right. It’s not that they say this from a perspective of insecurity, but that they can’t imagine living a life of complete financial freedom. Of course, he’ll just assure them that he has all the money in the world, there’s nothing to worry about. Just let him take care of you!

Dislikes: Anyone who doesn’t like Maria is dead in his book. If you don’t rock with his wife, then you don’t rock with him. I cannot imagine Olivia ever having another darling if it isn’t with Maria (in some type of poly relationship), or if she dies from her sickness. If Maria doesn’t like you, then there’s no way for the relationship to work. He needs both of his baby’s to be happy! And how can they both be happy if they’re fighting like cats and dogs? In most situations, Maria likely took an interest in you, and Olivia followed suit. I imagine that Maria doesn’t like many people, so to get on her good side is hella hard. IF you did, then you were probably really genuine, treating her like a normal person, and not the as the Unchainable’s Lover. You may have had some spunk to you, adding some snarky comments, but keeping it respectful and playful. From there, she was attracted to you and thought you were interesting, so she continued to request you (this is assuming that you work at the prison, or Olivia took Maria out somewhere idk). And the rest is history…

Jun Guevara

Likes: Jun is a simple man with simple interests and wants, not to take away from his character or anything. Of course, as all humans are, he has complex thoughts and feelings, but he just chooses not to think about them too much. Now, that I say that, Jun doesn’t think, he just acts, listening to his feelings in the moment. That doesn’t mean he isn’t smart, his initial action is fueled and spurred on by his emotions, but is guided by his conscience. Because of this, Jun wants someone similar, a free-spirit if you will. Though he wouldn’t mind someone strong-willed, stubborn, or anxious, I think he’d match far better with someone who’s aloof, going with the flow, and speaking from the heart. They don’t think too deeply about things but aren’t stingy about expressing their inner thoughts and turmoil. They’re like an open book, and Jun respects that, finding it to be a breath of fresh air, something to look forward to. They’d have to be his peace in a sense, being his calm before the storm, voicing any ideas that they have without any inner motivation of taking advantage of him. Bonus points if they like the ocean or traveling, by sea preferably.

Dislikes: Jun loathes those who are motivated by money and physical things, letting it dictate their decision-making, even if it causes others pain and suffering. These are the type of people that’d befriend someone well off just to sink their teeth into their neck like a leech, using them for what they’re worth before dropping them like they never existed. Jun finds these types of people to be corrupt, both mentally and in the way they lead their lives. For some reason, it brings some type of inner turmoil that he doesn’t want to address, and instead just acts on it, deciding to break, crush, and embarrass thoughts with such surface-level care. Another type of person Jun would hate is someone who liters, someone who doesn’t care for nature or those around them, and just lashes out, ruining the things around him. He finds a lack of care for nature to be an utter turn-off, something that’s also a corrupt way of living. So to put it in simple terms, I think that Jun greatly dislikes those who are sociopathic and act out of their own interests.

inspired by: @iskratempestmadness

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tsukii0002 · 3 months

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So, i like to think that Adam was jacked and reaaaally handsome, like...A LITERAL ANGEL FELL FOR HIM quite literally lol, and for the sake of my delulu let's say that most of the humans that the brothers met where taller and stronger that the humans nowdays (since Adam and Lilith met some centuries ago)

So since the brothers only met humans that were more strong than the nowdays humans, so when they see the mc for the first time (let's imagine that mc is pretty short like...around 5ft/1,50) they are like "??" they knew that humans are fragile and weak but they did not know that now humans are THIS weak and fragile, this was a shock to them.

BESIDES i'm pretty sure that i literally have no canon sorce for that the brothers actually changed their heigths i mean they were angels and now are demons, can't demons shapeshift?? because it's more usefull to them be that heigth, so when they see someone naturally short—Mc—they are a bit shocket specially when they still think that the humans still tall

I guess this apply to all the alredy born demons (i forgot like...the entire lore 😭 so forgive me)

How you think they will individualy react? What will they say? I guess that Beel and Belp will be more shocked since they watched the humans with Lilith while they were tall and strong so i imagine that the two youngests will be like "what lore did i miss?😦" Or "why you are like that 🤨"

Ignore my grammar mistakes 🙈

I really like the concept of changing the appearance, and "the more demonic real form of the brothers" . Also this kind of situation would be: what you asked for by catalogue vs what you get 😂😂. I don't know if I can capture your idea well, but here goes. And as always, thanks for the suggestions 🩷

How the demons react to an actual human (much smaller than they remembered).

Lucifer

Oh father why? As if he didn't have enough to keep a normal human alive, now he has to keep this creature alive? Like are they an average human? In his time humans were more… more.

Lucifer would keep his distance and be stressed constantly, he would feel like Mc was a balloon in a needle shop. He would worry about absurd things like they falling into any crack or hole. But what would really make him lose sleep is the thought of someone so small having so much power over his family, you know, pride.

Lucifer: Mc! Where are you?

Mc: *behind him* here?

Lucifer: One of these days you're going to give me a heart attack.

Mc: It's your fucking fault, not mine, you being a giant is not my problem.

Lucifer: You, little shit.

Mammon

Why so small??!! Are you putting him in charge of something so small? Of all the demons? He's looked after guinea pigs before for work and it's never worked out well, shouldn't you think again?

Mammon would be one of the quickest to forget about it, I mean they are small but they're his human. That is until he hugs or pushes them, because he'll think he's killed Mc and start crying. He has lost Mc countless times. Mammon's the type that gets a heart attack when Mc interacts with any demon, too overprotective.

Mammon: I knew people would pay to pet your head.

Mc: I'm glad business went well, now give me the 90% you owe me.

Mammon: What? That's not- don't give me that face!!!

Mc: It's just that, Mammon, this little face doesn't hold itself… now give me my share or I'll tell Lucifer that you've done business with my size.

Levi

Have they always been like that? Not that he's ever been interested in humans but… Are not they too cartoonist? . I mean in his real form he could pick them up as one of his figures… Does they bite? Small bugs tend to bite the most…

Honestly it makes he a little bit excited because Mc looks like the characters of his animes, that is to say they have the perfect size to be a magical girl. He'd also adapt pretty quickly although he'd be far from forgetting and he'd always be careful because oh god they're so small. Their condition makes it easier to strike up a conversation with them.

Mc: Have you handmade all these cosplays?

Levi: Yep…

Mc: They are for me right?

Levi: Yep.

Mc: Okey…. but I'm not going to wear the goldfish one.

Satan

… Well nice to meet you, don't come near me again. He had read about the great kings, the mighty heroes, the fearsome witches… he wasn't expecting a miniature human. It would be impossible to keep them alive, so he wants to get out of the way.

He has read a lot about humans, but he wasn't prepared for that. It never ceases to amaze him how little Mc's conscience is, anything can kill them! Why do them throw themself headlong into danger? He would start to interact with them very slowly, and even then he would be extremely careful, he wouldn't start to act more calmly until the fourth pact with Asmo.

Satan: *watching two KO demons with Mc on top of them* How?

Mc: I'm like a fiddler spider, tiny but lethal.

Satan: … Cool

Asmodeus

Oh my gosh, they're the size of a pocket dog, (Devildom's pocket dogs are six feet tall) . They don't look like any of the epic heroes or one with Solomon's power. So many things could happen to them, so many things could hurt them, he could do so many things to them… Is this a new fetish?

The one that best adapts his strength without giving up physical contact. At first he thought that Mc must belong to a small group of short humans. When he found out they weren't, he rethought a lot of things. Tempting humans nowadays would be complicated, and even more so if he showed his true form. But for some reason he was now more interested in actual humans.

Asmo: What is it about you that makes you so irresistible?

Mc: Ummm, do you really think something like that?

Asmo: Yes, you are so amazing and beautiful and charming… no human has ever made me feel like that before!!!

Mc: Well, you know what they say… *holds his chin from above* The best scents come in small bottles *smiling*

Asmo: *choked scream*

Beel

This can't be a human… Diavolo has been tricked, he could eat Mc in one bite, normal humans could be eaten in 5 or 6 bites… And why aren't they afraid? Don't they know the real size of a demon? Doesn't natural selection work in the human world?

Beel: *with mc sitting on his shoulders*

He would be super careful, as if Mc was made of porcelain. At first he would be reluctant to get too close, what if he broke something by touching it? But then he'd take on the role of guardian, and if anyone got more than five metres away from the little human, it'd end up as Beel's lunch.

Lucifer: Why is Mc on your shoulders?

Beel: They like to be tall.

Mc: actually it's because when he's hungry I run the risk of him crushing me without realising it.

Belphie

I've seen many humans and this can't be a human 2.0 how is something so small going to help him get out of the attic? He guess it's been too long since he've been down to the human world… if humans had been like that Lilith wouldn't have fallen in love with one…

Belphie: You're warm *placing them on his lap in class*

He fidn't expect anything from the human, however he was the one who took to them the quickest seeing what they achieved in such a short time, it seems that for a human to do great things it doesn't matter if they're small. They are also the perfect size to cuddle and sleep next to. And it's the perfect little warmth bag, as he can carry them at any time.

Mc: I think we can go home now Belphie.

Belphie: *getting up carrying Mcall the way* Cool, let's go sleep in the attic.

Mc: Do I have a choice?

Belphie: *fritting his cheek against Mc* No.

College is killing me again so sorry for the wait, I'm in a creative block so it's hard for me to write so if you've made it this far thank you very much 😌

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lupinmoonlight · 4 months

Text

No thoughts. Just Remus.

Masterlist AO3

Summary - You and Remus can't get enough of each other. Obviously, he ends up bending you over his desk in his quarters, incidentally taking your virginity. As Remus walks you back to your common room, you walk into Professor McGonagall, who seems to know too much, but decides to ignore it for her own sanity. Back in his quarters, Remus makes a mortifying discovery when a familiar someone pops up in his fireplace (2,341 words). Warnings - teacher/student relationship, desk sex, getting caught, marking, my grammar, loss of virginity, smut, not proof-read, english isn't my first language. Notes - Hey guys, it's me from the depths of academia. I am traveling for a conference tomorrow. I have to drive 3h, yet here I am writing smut. I just really had to get this silly little scenario out of my head. I don't even know what this is. I just had to write it. I love the idea of Remus wearing a bathrobe with his initials on it lol.

A soft flurry of wings caught your attention as you sat in the Great Hall, desperately trying to focus on that stupid Potions essay, and tiny owl swooped down, a small rolled parchment clutched in its talon. The note was short and to the point: "My quarters. Now."

The elegant handwriting that you recognized as Remus' sent a delicious shiver down your spine. It was unlike your usual, careful exchanges. This didn't feel like just another stolen moment; this was him throwing caution to the wind, and you were more than happy to indulge.

You looked around, making sure no one noticed, and then bolted up from your seat. Professor Lupin's quarters. Now.

Reaching his door, you barely rapped your knuckles against it before the door flew open, revealing a tense Remus. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you inside with surprising force. He slammed the door shut with his foot and warded it with a quick flick of his wand.

"Remus-" you began, but before you could finish, you were lifted from the floor, Remus' lips crashing against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He carried you over to his desk, parchment and quills scattering to the floor as he set you down, never breaking the kiss. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back as your body arched instinctively into his.

Remus groaned into the kiss as your legs hooked around his waist. He pulled away slightly, both of you out of breath, and whispered against your lips, "I can't get enough of you."

His lips trailed down your neck, nipping at the soft skin there. You let out a needy whimper, a sound that undid him completely. He felt a primal, possessive need to make you his. The urgency of his movements surprised you. He was always so reverent, only allowing a few pecks here and there, a lingering touch. But now, he was devouring you, and it was all you wanted. No thoughts. Just Remus.

"Remus," you whispered.

"Y/N," he responded, his voice deep and husky. "I need you. Now"

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the hard ridge of his length pressing against you through your clothes.

"Please, Remus. Please," you pleaded in a shaky breath. "Please."

That plea shattered any self-control Remus had been clinging to. With a ragged breath, he pulled back and spun you around, pressing you against the wooden surface of the desk. He fumbled with your clothes, desperate and impatient, his hands undoing just enough of your clothing to give you what you both craved. He positioned himself, and with a deep breath, he entered you, drawing a gasping moan from both of you.

You pushed back against him, your fingers digging into the desk. "Remus…"

His name on your lips sent him into a frenzy. He moved with a desperate intensity, every thrust forcing you to raise yourself on your tiptoes, to try and keep up with him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, and he leaned over you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to stifle a moan.

"You feel so good," he groaned. "I can't… I can't hold back."

"Don't," you gasped. "Please, Remus. Don't stop."

He growled low in his throat, his movements becoming even more urgent. The desk creaked under your combined weight, but neither of you cared. All that mattered was the overwhelming need to be as close to each other as possible.

His grip on your hips tightened, his movements growing more forceful. You cried out as you reached your peak, your body shuddering with the force of your climax. Remus followed moments later, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he spilled himself inside you, holding you tightly against him.

He stayed like that for a moment, breathing heavily. Slowly, he pulled back, helping you off the desk and turning you around to face him. He kissed you gently this time, the urgency replaced by tenderness.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, a blissful smile on your lips. "More than alright."

Remus tried to regain his composure slightly, though both of you were sweaty and disheveled. He made a futile attempt to adjust your clothes, but there was no use. They were ruined and you both knew it. His gaze drifted downwards, noticing the result of your encounter trickling down to the floor from you.

"Looks like I made a bit of a mess there," he mumbled, a sheepish blush creeping up his neck.

"Well, Professor, who would have thought such a composed man could be so… messy?"

A genuine laugh escaped him. "The blame, my dear, falls squarely on you. You're impossible to resist."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss, and with a gentle hand on your back, guided you towards the bathroom.

Once there, you started peeling off the clothes that had survived your encounter, but Remus stopped you with a soft touch. "Let me," he murmured.

He took his time, his touch tender and reverent as he cleaned you up. His fingers traced the love bites and flushed skin that marked his claim on you. He placed soft kisses on them, as if sealing his love into you.

When he finished, he wrapped you into his large dressing gown. It engulfed you in his scent, a comforting mix of cinnamon, wood polish, and something distinctly him. You perched on a small stool, stealing glances at him as he cleaned himself with a quiet efficiency.

After drying himself off, Remus offered his hand to help you up. "Come on, let's get you comfortable."

You took his hand, and he led you back to the main room. He fetched a blanket and laid it out on the couch, guiding you to sit down. "Rest here for a bit, you don't have to go back just now," he said, tucking the blanket around you and pulling you back against him.

As you settled into a comfortable silence, a memory jolted Remus. "Accio," he murmured, and a small vial materialized in his hand. "Contraceptive," the label read.

"Here," he said, offering it to you. "It's best to be safe."

You looked up at him, taken aback. "Where did you get this? Not Professor Snape-"

Remus gave a nervous laugh, a flicker of worry crossing his features. "Sirius," he admitted. "He sent it with a rather cryptic message about 'precautions.'"

Your face turned crimson with mortification. "Oh God. He did?"

Remus nodded, trying to hide his amusement. "Yes. But it's important. Please, drink it."

The thought of your uncle anticipating your secret encounter was almost too much to bear. You downed the potion in one go, shuddering and grimacing at the bitter taste.

"Good girl," Remus murmured, placing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head.

"Uncle Sirius knows, then? About…" you trailed off.

Remus hesitated for a moment before nodding. "He know there's something between us. He's not blind," he explained, referring to the summer you had spent together at Grimmauld Place, stealing glances at each other like a bunch of teenagers.

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. "This is so embarrassing. Please, promise me you won't tell him about what just happened."

Remus chuckled, stroking your hair reassuringly. "I promise. Your safety, and Sirius' sanity, are worth more than anything."

You lifted your head slightly, your gaze flickering up at him. "Was that your first time?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. Despite the lingering blush on your cheeks, there was a playfulness in your eyes that sent a jolt through Remus.

He let out a surprised chuckle. The question, though somewhat innocent, was unexpected. "Merlin, Y/N," he said, a touch of amusement in his voice. "No, it wasn't. I'm rather ancient, you see."

You feigned offense with a playful shrug. "Well, excuse me Professor," you teased. "Just trying to gauge the competition."

Taking a deep breath, you confessed, "Actually, that was my first time."

Remus' smile faltered, replaced by a wave of guilt that washed over him. "You should have told me," he said, his voice low and serious. The image of your hurried encounter flashed before his eyes, and a pang of regret stabbed at him.

"Why?" you countered, tilting your head in genuine confusion.

"Because," he began, "your first time shouldn't have been… like that. Bent over a desk, rushed, with barely a moment to breathe."

Your response surprised him. A soft giggle escaped your lips. "Actually, Remus," you admitted, "that's always been a bit of a fantasy of mine. A little forbidden, a little…messy."

A blush crept up Remus' neck at your words, a nervous chuckle escaping him.

"And perhaps," you continued, "next time you can show me properly."

Remus' breath caught at your suggestion, and he tried to remain casual and unaffected but failed miserably. "I, uh, well… yes, of course," he stammered. "Whenever you're ready."

You giggled again, enjoying the sight of his flustered state.

A sudden jolt of panic shot through Remus as he glanced at the clock. It was well past curfew. "Merlin's beard," he muttered, "I need to walk you back to your common room before anyone notices you're missing."

You nodded, reluctantly getting up. You were still clad in Remus' dressing gown, your clothes crumpled in a ball clutched in your hands. The large "R.J.L" embroidered letters on the chest were impossible to miss.

You stepped out of Remus' quarters, trying to appear as casual as possible, only to turn a corner and find yourselves face-to-face with Professor McGonagall.

You froze, your smile vanishing faster than a puff of smoke. your eyes wide with shock. McGonagall's sharp gaze swept over you both, taking in the sight of you in Remus' robe, your hair damp and slightly mussed, and landing finally on Remus himself.

The silence stretched, and you braced yourself for McGonagall scathing reprimand.

"Miss Black," McGonagall began, her tone questioning but laced with the knowledge of what was clearly going on. "What are you doing out of your common room so late, and why are you wearing Professor Lupin's robe?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Remus stepped in, a charming, albeit slightly panicked smile plastered on his face.

"Professor, I was just on my way to accompany Miss Black back to her common room," he said smoothly. "She had a bit of an accident in the Potions classroom earlier and got some ingredients on her clothes. She came to my office for help cleaning up, and I lent her my robe to wear in the meantime."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but unable to challenge the story outright without more proof.

“I see. Well, Professor Lupin, I trust you will ensure Miss Black returns safely to her common room?”

“Absolutely, Minerva,” Remus replied, his voice steady. “I was just about to do that.”

McGonagall studied you both for a moment longer, then sighed. "Very well. But in the future, Miss Black, do try to avoid such mishaps so close to curfew. And Remus, please ensure that students return to their dormitories in a timely manner."

"Of course, Minverva," Remus said with a respectful nod.

With that, McGonagall swept past you. Remus took a deep breath, the tension visibly draining from his body.

"Well played, Professor," you teased.

Remus chuckled. "Just another day at Hogwarts," he quipped.

Reaching the entrance to your common room, you turned to face him and whispered, "Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight, love," he replied, then leaned in and gave you a quick, soft kiss on the lips. You slipped through the entrance of your common room, giving him one last smile.

Remus watched you go for a moment, and made his way back to his quarters.

He sank back onto the couch, his gaze trailing across the room and settling on the now-innocent desk. His mind, however, was reeling with what had just transpired. The feel of your skin, the warmth of your body pressed against his. He closed his eyes, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and let himself slip back into the memory.

A sudden crackle from the fireplace jolted him back to reality. Sirius' grinning face filled the flames. Remus nearly jumped out of his skin, a strangled scream escaping his lips.

"Merlin's beard, Sirius! What- what are you doing here?"

Sirius' laughter echoed in the room. "Fire-called you earlier, Moony," he said, "but it seemed you were…busy."

Remus choked, absolutely mortified. His mind raced, wondering if Sirius had truly witness what he thought he had. "I… uh, what do you mean?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "That poor desk looks like it's barely standing after this."

Remus' face fell, his mind going blank. He stammered, "S-Sirius, I-"

"Don't worry, Moony," Sirius said, his grin softening. "Just wanted to check on my niece. Seems she's well taken care of, though."

Remus could only manage a weak nod, his voice still lost somewhere in his throat.

"Did you use the little potion I sent over?" Sirius asked casually.

Remus croaked out a confirmation, his cheeks burning hotter than the fireplace ever could. A satisfied smirk spread across Sirius' face.

"Just looking out for you both, mate. You weren't exactly discreet over the summer," he continued, a wink following his words. "Besides, wouldn't want any little surprises popping up in a few months, would we?"

Remus was so mortified he could hardly speak. "Sirius, I… I didn't mean for you to-"

Sirius laughed, shaking his head. "Relax, Moony. I trust you. Just remember, she's precious to me. But from what I can see, you're doing a decent job."

With that, Sirius' face disappeared from the fire. Remus slumped back further into the couch, burying his face in his hands. Relief mingled with worry. Sirius knew. Definitely. Yet he seemed… accepting. The thought offered a sliver of comfort, but he knew he wasn't going to tell you anytime soon.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor lupin #remus lupin smut #professor lupin x reader #smut #sirius black #hp fanfic

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