#pristin reaction
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guys i really like the den chapter
#stp#slay the princess#the den#the den stp#voice of the hunted#1st drawing is heavily referenced from reaction speed disco elysium#hunted reminds me so much of that skill#the quickest to react an untouchable man high strung overly alert#etc etc#ack#never expected den to quickly become one of my fav chapters but the pristine cut really put it up there#blues art
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honestly with the pristine cut out you could kinda call the broken and the smitten parallels. like in a meta sense.
pre-pristine cut the smitten was viewed very positively and the broken was viewed very negatively but now we’ve seen that broken can be a hero and smitten can be a villain
hmm. i think i see where you're going with this, anon, but all i can offer is a half-hearted shrug.
i agree there seemed to be an effort to highlight smitten's flaws and broken's strengths (tony, in particular, stated in the discord server that his goal was for broken to "suck less shit" for the non-tower routes), but i think it's a stretch to call this specifically a parallel. broken and smitten weren't the only voices whose traits were expanded upon, so this reads to as coincidence at best.
but there's definitely an interesting discussion to be had about the parallels between the tower and damsel routes which i hardly see anyone talk about.
shout out to devotion so pure it strips you of your humanity! shout out to harming your lover because you firmly believe you know what's best for them! shout out to obeying higher authority in hopes they will not harm you! shout out to being complacent in your death after it's been instilled within you that you must have earned it! shout out to your lover/voice mournfully apologizing before they miss staking your heart repeatedly! shout out to these losers!!!!
#sorry if this sounds dismissive anon ily this is just unironically My Reaction To This Information#wow finally answering my pristine cut asks after it's been... a month. im so good at this#♡. letters sent
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Girl group m.list
Pristin
Momoland
Exid
Snsd
Gfriend
Mamamoo
(G)-idle
Fromis_9
Twice
Red velvet
Iz*one
Blackpink
Dreamcatcher
loona
F(x)
#pristin#momoland#exid#snsd#gfriend#mamamoo#gidle#fromis 9#twice#red velvet#iz*one#blackpink#dreamcatcher#loona#f(x)#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop fluff#kpop reacts#kpop reactions#kpop angst
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Much observed but also highly entertaining the extent that fundies are worse at every discernible “home making” skill than many a group that they claim to be part of the Them group keeping women from their true roll as home makers
#I think there are many and highly complicated reasons behind this#A huge portion being the idealization of a past that never existed etc etc#Like the nine kids stay at home mom (with little Inter community help) who homeschools is just not a time equation that leaves time open fo#Cooking/cleaning/taking care of every child in an individual manner#The other unspoken elephant in the room is the extent that in the rare-r occasions there WAS the#Ye olden days Ma with her pristine white dress and nine pristine kids rather than an extended network of relatives/women etc etc#That social arrangement was only possible due to the working class women who did the cooking/cleaning/child care#In the South in particular the work of Black women. And for many of the periods fundies glorify? Enslaved women#Tw slavery#The cult of domesticity inseparable from classist and racist oppression etc etc#There’s just a lot going on with how outright bad fundies are at cooking and cleaning and that sort of thing#We won’t even touch on the parenting because that’s it’s own thing of a cultural structure that just creates intergenerational trauma from#The get go#But I think one of the big things to take away from the soc 101 kind of thing is like#Religious conservatism is deep in us cultural waters#But the whole fundie school of quiverfull related movements is NEW#It’s NEW#It’s a modern self-created culture from the 1970’s/80’s that can be classed in a group of similar religious revival movements#That shook politics around the world from that era as a reaction to “modernity” and which can be found in many cultures and religions#Inside and outside of the us#But as a fairly modern cultural construct there’s parents who assimilated into this culture and kind of formed it based on that idea of an#A past
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life really knows how to come in when you’re already at your lowest and flood your entire bathroom, closet, and storage area, huh?
#of course this would happen#now especially#so fun! so fresh!#normally my closet & storage are pristinely organized too#but I am doing Bad rn so naturally this happened while half my belongings were on the floor#my closet is huge and not only stores all my clothes and laundry but also all of my shop inventory and art supplies & materials#so All of that is fucked#cool!!!#I WAS FINALLY SUPPOSED TO PLAY BG3 W MY FRIEND AGAIN TOMORROW N NOW I HAVE TO CANCEL ON HIM AGAIN AHHHHHHH#and it’s his last day in town before he heads back to school n will be very busy again :’)#I’m also breaking out in a rash Mysterious in origin bc now is the perfect time to have an allergic reaction#I’m too disabled for this didn’t my pipes get the memo?#i love living in a basement:)))))))))))#this all started with a clogged toilet.#then I discovered the storage area. then after clearly ts out I realized in horror the water was seeping under the wall#ran to check my closet and was greeted by Soggy Carpet#it’s 6am#someone pls sedate me#ked rambles#also side note just as extra icing on this cake#my neighbor who was always very kind to me and who I connected with a lot as a kid passed away this week and I am very sad about that :(#it’s tough out here in overwhelmedfrogville gang :’)
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"four arms and two faces, and this is what you're fascinated by?" sukuna said, watching with feigned disinterest as you poked at the mouth on his stomach.
"you've gotta admit it's really weird. and i'm fascinated by plenty of things about you, believe me. you have no idea how terrifying it was when you pulled out two dicks instead of one." you responded drily, a finger pulling at the crease of the lips, showing the pristine teeth inside.
"does it have a mind of its own or do you control it? is it a subconscious thing?" you asked before he could reply to your dry wit, genuinely curious.
"i don't know, why don't you stick your hand in there so we can find out?" he responded, showing the fangs of his top mouth in a growl.
"you're gonna try to eat my fingers again. does it lead to your normal stomach or is it a different thing? can you even eat with it? can you swallow?"
"i didn't know when you asked for my time i would be teaching an anatomy lesson. again, give it a try, let's see what happens."
"you should be studied in a lab, seriously."
before he could protest to the (frankly, offensive) statement, you shifted a little closer, and with one hand pressed to his navel, placed a gentle kiss on the lips on his tummy.
"what." he hissed, but you didn't offer an answer and instead moved up on your perch above him so you could cuddle up to his chest instead.
"you're so interesting, kuna."
"you are arguably stranger." his voice seemed strained, but you knew well that was just his own stilted reaction to being flustered.
with a contented sigh you snuggled closer to his rapidly beating heart, deciding to give him the mercy of not having to hide his blushing face.
#my first drabble on this account hehe#jjk#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#sukuna x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#sukuna tummy mouth thoughts#i wanna smooch it
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Christmas mixup - op81
in which: Oscar accidentally proposes to his girlfriend on Christmas Day.
pairing: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader
genre: fluff
warnings: pet names (babe), not proof read, nothing else
an: If you saw this posted earlier NO YOU DIDNT😭
۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ
Oscar reached an outstretched arm to the top of your shared closet, being sure to select the small box that sat on the left and not the right.
You’d been dating for six years now—since you were both just seventeen years old—and you’ve been living together for about a year.
He found the most gorgeous diamond earrings while racing in Vegas last month. He thought about how much you’d love them and couldn’t resist buying them for you.
While Oscar wasn’t the best gift wrapper, he always tried his best for you. The gifts you wrapped for him always came out in pristine condition, the colorful paper hugging the boxes perfectly. He felt awful when he would carry out piles of boxes and the wrapping paper was crumpled and loose around the sides. Your wrapping job made everything look so perfect and he felt like he was ruining it. It’s just paper, you had told him, laughing it off. You could wrap it in discarded candy wrappers and it would make no difference to me.
This specific gift, he rewrapped it five times before he thought that it looked even remotely good enough. And even after that, he wrapped it three more times until he got it to be perfect.
He smiled at the small box, and took it to the tree with great care. You watched from the kitchen, chuckling as he carried the box like a newborn child.
۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ
Christmas morning, you and Oscar sat around the tree, a cup of hot cocoa and a croissant beside the both of you.
You’d both opened almost all of your gifts already, but Oscar withheld one gift until the very end. That tiny box.
“Can I open it now?” You asked him, same as you had after every single other gift. He finally handed it over to you. “Be careful, though.” He warned, a warm smile on his face as he watched your excitement.
You ripped the paper off, and cautiously opened the box. What you saw had your eyes watering, your jaw dropped slightly. You placed the box on the floor, and your hands came up to over your mouth.
Oscar figured you would like the gift, but definitely not this much.
“Oscar,” your voice wobbled with the threat of tears that may spill. You gasped as you tried not to cry.
Oscar’s eye caught the glimmer that bounced off the shiny object, and he quickly realized he didn’t wrap the earrings. No, instead, his eyes met a shiny diamond incrusted band. Your engagement ring.
He didn’t intend to propose this early, no. He wanted to do something extravagant to propose. Not this. Not on Christmas, in your pajamas and at home. He was horrified.
“Yes, oh my god, yes.” You answered without waiting for him to actually ask the question. To you, this was entirely intentional and planned by him. You flung yourself at him, your arms coming around his neck to hug him tightly.
Oscar was significantly less horrified. Your reaction had eased him some, but he still was overcome with an immense feeling of guilt. He thought you deserved a better proposal then this.
But he would play it off. “Thank god you said yes.” He laughed.
۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ
A week later, you were both sat on the couch, watching television. He couldn’t help but notice how often you would look down to gaze at the engagement ring on your finger.
“Babe?” He called softly. “Hm?” You hummed, your eyes peering past your lashes to meet his gaze. He could see just how happy you were. It was in the twinkle of your eyes, the curve of your lips, etched in every facial feature.
But the guilt still ate away at him. “I’m sorry it happened like that.” He struggled to meet your eyes, looking down at the band on your ring finger instead. You sat up a little straighter, concerned. “What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Well, I meant to wrap a box of earrings, but I put the two boxes next to each other and I guess I picked up the wrong one. I’m sorry. I wanted to do something big to propose to you. Not that.”
You laughed and grabbed his face. You leaned up to capture his lips with yours, kissing him softly. “There’s no way you could have proposed to me that wouldn’t be perfect. Even if it was at a farm, with a ring made of straw.” He looked in your eyes, seeing the deep love within them, and knew you were telling the truth. And he wondered, how did he get so lucky?
#f1#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#op81#f1 x you#f1 blurb#f1 fluff#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri x reader
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♥️ Prim and Proper ♥️
part 2
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Riddle x King of Hearts oc Simply how they met and to communicate Prim's personality a bit better! Like the King of Hearts, often forgotten but happy :) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Story under the line ~
Riddle’s POV
The Night Raven College library was Riddle Rosehearts’ haven—a place where rules were respected, order was preserved, and silence reigned supreme. At least, it was supposed to.
The soft symphony of pages turning and quills scratching was disrupted by bursts of giggling and whispers. Riddle’s brows furrowed, his concentration shattered.
The offenders were four girls from Lady Mystic College, currently permitted to use the library while their own was under renovation. They sat at a table in the far corner, their uniforms pristine and polished, yet their behavior anything but.
Three of them leaned in close, whispering and snickering, their laughter bubbling up despite the clear disapproval of nearby students. The fourth girl, however, sat quietly at the edge of the group.
Riddle hadn’t noticed her at first, his irritation focused on the noise. But as he rose from his seat and made his way toward them, she caught his eye.
She was smaller than her friends, with blonde curls tied into two neat pigtails. Her dark blue eyes flitted nervously between her tablemates and the books in front of her. Braces gleamed faintly while her upperlip rested on them. Unlike her companions, she seemed more like an observer than a participant.
“Excuse me,” Riddle said sharply as he reached their table.
The three louder girls turned to him, blinking in mock surprise. “Oh, hi!” one of them said, her smile overly sweet.
“This is a library,” Riddle stated, his tone clipped. “Your noise is disrupting others. Please keep your voices down.”
The girls exchanged glances and giggled again. “Sorry about that,” another said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t sorry at all.
The fourth girl looked up at him, her cheeks flushing pink. “I—I’m so sorry,” she stammered. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her book. “We will be quiet, promise!”
Riddle’s frown softened slightly. She seemed genuinely apologetic, unlike her companions. But rules were rules, and they all bore responsibility for their collective behavior.
“Just keep it down,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later, Riddle found himself standing in front of a particularly tall bookshelf, searching for a volume on advanced spell theory. The book he needed was on the highest shelf, just out of reach.
He huffed, rising onto his toes, but it was no use. He debated summoning a step stool when a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.
“Um... Excuse me,” the soft, slightly lisped voice said.
Riddle turned to see the blonde girl from earlier standing a few feet away. She was craning her neck, gazing up at a book several shelves above her head.
“I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said quickly, flushing again. “It’s just... I can’t reach it.”
Riddle glanced between her and the book. “Neither can I,” he admitted dryly, stepping closer.
Her lips twitched into a sheepish smile. “Oh, yeah-” she said, hugging her arms.
Riddle sighed, lifting his hand. With a precise flick of his fingers, the book floated down from the shelf, landing neatly in his grasp.
The girl’s eyes widened, a spark of wonder lighting them. “Wow! That’s so cool,” she said, her tone full of genuine awe.
“It’s basic magic,” Riddle replied, though he couldn’t help the slight warmth that rose at her reaction. He handed her the book.
“Thank you,” she said, her braces glinting as she smiled. “I’m Prim, by the way. I, um, wanted to apologize again that we were so noisy.”
Riddle studied her for a moment. There was a cheerfulness about her, a childlike wonder that seemed at odds with her companions. “Riddle.” introducing himself. “And it wasn’t entirely your fault.”
Prim hesitated, her expression flickering with something uncertain. “They’re not always like that,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction. “I think they just... like having fun.”
“Just make sure to not disturb others when you’re in a public library. We prefer this place to be quiet.” Riddle said, not to scold her but he feared it may have sounded like that.
“No, you’re absolutely right! It’s basic rules.” She looked down at the book Riddle just got for her. “Thank you again, Riddle!”
Riddle responded with a simple nod and she hugged the book to her chest and turned back toward her table. Riddle watched her go, noting the way her steps seemed lighter, more confident.
For the rest of the afternoon, the library was quiet. But Riddle found himself distracted, his thoughts lingering on the small girl with the blonde pigtails and wondering if she would ever realize she deserved better.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next day, Riddle was once again settled in his usual spot in the library. The silence was pristine this time, and he relished the peaceful atmosphere. He had nearly immersed himself in his studies when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.
Prim.
The girl with blonde pigtails walked hesitantly into the library, clutching her books and bag. She scanned the room for a moment before her eyes landed on him. A bright smile lit her face, and she made her way over.
“Hi,” she greeted softly, her voice still carrying that slight lisp.
Riddle nodded in acknowledgment. “Good afternoon, Prim.”
To his surprise, she pulled out a chair and sat next to him, setting her books down. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said cheerfully. “It’s nice and quiet here.”
“As long as you keep it that way,” Riddle replied, his tone neutral.
Prim giggled and nodded. “Promise. I’ll be quiet.”
She opened her notebook and began working on what looked like several assignments. Riddle glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noting the way her handwriting flowed neatly across the pages. Occasionally, she would hum softly to herself, though it wasn’t disruptive—it was oddly soothing.
After a few minutes, he broke the silence. “You’re alone today.”
Prim looked up from her work, her curls bouncing slightly as she tilted her head. “Oh, yeah. My friends are out getting lunch.”
Riddle raised an eyebrow. “They left you behind?”
Prim waved a hand dismissively, her smile unwavering. “It’s fine. I had too much homework to do anyway. Besides, they’ll bring me something back.”
Her tone was so casual, so certain, that Riddle didn’t press further. But he couldn’t help the small pang of doubt that settled in his chest.
“They do seem to leave you out quite often,” he remarked, his voice carefully measured.
Prim paused, her pencil hovering over her notebook. Then she laughed lightly. “They don’t mean to. They’re just... busy. But they’re good friends, really.”
Riddle frowned but didn’t say anything. Her unwavering cheerfulness was admirable, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was excusing more than she should.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the soft scratch of pens and the faint rustle of pages filling the air. After a while, Prim closed one notebook and opened another, switching seamlessly between assignments. Riddle noticed she wasn’t just working on a single piece of homework—she seemed to be copying her answers onto three other sheets.
He glanced at her stack of papers. Each page was identical, and she was writing the same answers in the same neat handwriting on all of them. His brow furrowed.
“Prim,” he said quietly, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why are you doing the same homework four times?”
Prim froze for a moment, her pen poised mid-sentence. Then she looked at him, her expression sheepish but still cheerful. “Oh, um... My friends forgot to do theirs, so I’m helping out. They’re really busy, you know, with... things.”
Riddle’s frown deepened. “You’re doing their homework? All of it?”
Prim shrugged, her smile not faltering. “It’s no big deal. I’m good at this stuff, and they always help me when I need it.”
Riddle didn’t believe that for a second. He leaned back slightly, studying her. She seemed so genuinely kind, so eager to help, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that her so-called friends were clearly taking advantage of her.
Prim seemed to sense his concern because she added, “I don’t mind, really. It’s nice to feel useful.”
Riddle opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Prim stood up, gathering her things into a neat pile. “I’m going to the restroom real quick,” she said with a smile. “Could you watch my stuff?”
He nodded, though his gaze lingered on her as she walked away.
Left alone, Riddle’s eyes drifted back to her work. The identical pages spread out in front of him confirmed what he already suspected—Prim was kind, but her kindness was being taken advantage of.
As he leaned back in his chair, waiting for her to return, Riddle couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of protectiveness toward her. She was cheerful and kind in her own way, but it was clear that she deserved better than what her so-called friends were giving her.
When Prim returned, still smiling as brightly as ever, Riddle resolved to keep an eye on her. Someone had to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several days went by and Riddle found himself walking through the courtyard, a book tucked under his arm. It was his usual route to the library, but the sound of laughter and chatter drew his attention.
Underneath one of the large oak trees sat the same group of girls from Lady Mystic College. Their voices carried easily on the breeze as they chatted with a group of Savanaclaw students who seemed far too pleased with themselves.
Riddle’s gaze immediately went to Prim. She was sitting on the edge of the group, her blonde curls bouncing slightly as she nodded enthusiastically in response to the conversation. Despite her obvious effort to engage, none of the boys so much as glanced her way. Their attention was fixed on her three companions, who were leaning forward and giggling at every joke.
Eventually, the three girls stood, brushing themselves off and flashing bright smiles at the Savanaclaw students. “We’ll see you later,” one of them said, linking arms with another.
Prim started to stand, too, but one of the girls waved her back down with a quick, “Oh, just stay here, Prim. Keep the spot for us, okay?”
Prim blinked, then nodded quickly. “Sure! No problem!”
The group walked away, leaving her alone under the tree. She didn’t seem bothered, though. She pulled out a small lunch box and began unpacking it, her expression as cheerful as ever.
Riddle hesitated, his steps slowing. It wasn’t his business, and he wasn’t the type to meddle. Yet something about the scene nagged at him.
Prim’s so-called friends hadn’t even offered to include her. They left her behind without a second thought. And though she waved them off as if it were perfectly natural, Riddle couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t right.
Before he could stop himself, he changed course and approached her.
Prim looked up as his shadow fell over her. “Oh! Hi, Riddle!” she said brightly, her dark blue eyes lighting up.
“Good afternoon,” he said, stopping a few feet away. He glanced at her lunch box and then at the empty space around her. “You’re alone.”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, the girls went off with those boys. They didn’t want to intrude, and, well, it would’ve been rude for me to tag along since I wasn’t invited.”
Riddle frowned, his grip tightening on the book in his hands. “They left you here.”
Prim waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s fine. I already had lunch anyway, and they asked me to keep this spot for them. It’s a nice spot, don’t you think? Nice shade, good view...”
Her voice trailed off as she gestured to the courtyard around them, clearly trying to paint the situation in the best possible light.
Riddle remained silent, his expression unreadable. He wanted to tell her that her friends shouldn’t have asked her to stay behind just to save a spot. That if they truly cared about her, they wouldn’t leave her sitting alone while they went off with boys who didn’t even acknowledge her.
But Prim’s smile didn’t falter. She continued to eat her lunch, completely at ease.
Riddle’s mind whirred. He had never been particularly skilled at making friends himself, and he often struggled with understanding social dynamics. Yet he couldn’t stand to see someone as kind and cheerful as Prim being so blatantly overlooked.
“Prim,” he said abruptly, his tone firmer than he intended.
She looked up, blinking at him. “Yes?”
“Would you... like to join me for lunch?”
Prim’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. “Oh, um, really?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.
“Yes,” Riddle said, a little awkwardly. “If you’ve already eaten, I could still use some company. That is, if you’re not busy keeping this spot occupied.”
Prim laughed softly, her smile brightening even further. “Well, I suppose the spot will still be here when I get back.”
Riddle stepped back, allowing her to stand. As they walked toward the cafeteria together, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t much, but at least she wouldn’t have to sit alone this time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Prim’s POV
The shade under the oak tree was nice, shielding them from the midday sun as the breeze rustled through the leaves. Prim sat with her three friends—Hazel, Trinity, and Opal—all of whom were laughing and chatting animatedly, their voices blending together in an upbeat melody of giggles.
Prim listened quietly, her hands folded neatly over her lap, her lips twitching upward in a small smile. Hazel said something that made Trinity snort, and Opal burst into another fit of laughter. Prim tried to join in, even though she didn’t entirely understand the joke.
They’re just so confident, she thought, watching them. “It’s one of the things I admire about them.”
Sometimes they’d say things to her that she wasn’t sure how to take. Like when Hazel turned to her mid-laughter and said, “Prim, I wish I could be as pure as you. So innocent!”
Prim chuckled along, though her cheeks flushed. They mean well, she reassured herself. It’s not like they’re being mean. I guess I don’t get all their jokes, so they’re right. It’s fine.
Then there was Trinity, who had tilted her head at Prim’s pigtails earlier and remarked, “Your hair is so unique, Prim. I’d never have the patience to deal with all those curls!”
Prim had thanked her for the comment, though part of her wondered if “unique” had been the right word. It was true, though—her hair never behaved like Hazel’s silky locks, Trinity’s sleek waves, or Opal’s perfectly tousled bob. But it was fine.
It was fine.
When a group of boys approached, Prim felt herself tense up slightly. She wasn’t used to being approached by boys—especially not bold, self-assured ones like these.
Hazel, Trinity, and Opal perked up immediately, their voices gaining a lilting edge as they welcomed the boys with coy smiles and casual jokes. Prim sat up straighter, her cheeks flushing pink as she tried to follow along with the conversation.
One of the boys told a story about his latest Spelldrive match, and Prim laughed softly at the right moment, hoping it sounded natural. But the boy didn’t look her way. None of them did. Their eyes were fixed on her friends.
She felt a small pang in her chest.
It’s okay, she told herself quickly. She isn’t his type. And that’s okay.
Her friends were tall, poised, and effortlessly pretty. Their hair shimmered in the sunlight, their makeup was flawless, and their laughter was infectious. Prim, meanwhile, was shorter, with unruly curls that seemed to have a mind of their own. Her braces made her mouth always stand open a bit, and as long as she can remember she talked with a lisp.
They’re just more... grown-up than me, she reasoned. And that’s okay. I’ll get there eventually.
For a fleeting moment, the pang threatened to grow into something heavier. But she shook it off, summoning her usual cheerful resolve.
I totally get it, she told herself, nodding slightly as if to reinforce the thought. I understand why they’d get all the attention. Besides, I don’t even need a boyfriend right now! I have my friends. And I’m happy for them. Really, I am.
When the boys eventually asked Hazel, Trinity, and Opal to join them for lunch, Prim was already smiling again.
“Oh, just stay here, Prim. Keep the spot for us, okay?” Hazel said over her shoulder as they stood.
“Sure! No problem!” Prim said brightly, waving at them as they walked off.
She settled back under the tree and reached for her lunch box. It’s fine, she thought as she unwrapped her sandwich. I packed a good lunch, and this spot is really nice. I’m totally fine. And they’ll be back soon anyway.
As she took a bite, she looked up and froze mid-chew.
Riddle stood a few feet away, his red hair unmistakable in the dappled sunlight. He was looking directly at her, his expression as composed and stern as always.
“Oh!” Prim swallowed quickly, straightening up and brushing crumbs off her lap. “Hi, Riddle!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Riddle’s POV
Riddle wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked her to join him for lunch. It wasn’t as though he usually sought out company during meals. Quite the opposite, in fact—he valued the quiet solitude that came with sitting alone, free from the noise and chaos of others.
And yet, here he was, walking toward the cafeteria with Prim by his side, her cheerful chatter filling the silence he usually preferred.
“I really didn’t expect you to invite me to lunch,” Prim said, her voice bright with surprise. “But thank you! It’s nice to have someone to eat with. It’s always fun!”
Riddle glanced at her, taking in her wide smile and the way her dark blue eyes seemed to light up with genuine delight. Her optimism was almost childlike in its sincerity, and though it was different from the carefully composed demeanor he usually gravitated toward, he found it oddly... refreshing.
As they settled at a table, Prim eagerly unpacked her lunch box again, chatting as she went. “So, do you always eat alone? Or do you sit with your dorm mates sometimes?”
“I usually eat alone,” Riddle replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “It’s more efficient. The dining hall can be... chaotic.”
Prim tilted her head, nodding thoughtfully. “I get that. It can get loud sometimes. But it’s nice to have people to talk to, don’t you think?”
Riddle hesitated. Socializing had always felt more like a chore than a pleasure for him. Yet, as he watched Prim, he couldn’t bring himself to agree. “Perhaps,” he said finally.
They fell into a rhythm of small talk, much to Riddle’s surprise. Prim carried most of the conversation, her cheerful nature making it easy to follow along. She told him about her favorite classes, how she was still adjusting to Lady Mystic College, and how much she loved the library at Night Raven College.
“And the oak tree in the courtyard!” she added with a bright smile. “It’s such a nice spot to sit. Perfect shade, good view... It’s the best, really.”
Riddle nodded politely, though his thoughts lingered on why she’d been left there in the first place.
Finally, he couldn’t stop himself from bringing it up. “You said earlier that your friends went off with those guys and left you behind. Does that happen often?”
Prim blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, well... not often,” she said, though her tone wavered slightly. “They were just being polite, you know? It wouldn’t have been right for me to tag along if I wasn’t invited.”
Riddle frowned. “But if they’re your friends, shouldn’t they have invited you in the first place?”
Prim hesitated, her cheerful facade faltering for the briefest moment. “I mean, they’re just... busy. And I don’t really mind! I’m happy to keep the spot for them.”
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “Do you really think that’s fair to you?”
She shifted uncomfortably, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her lunch box. “Well, it’s not like they’re being mean or anything,” she said quietly. “They’re nice to me. And they’re so cool and pretty, you know? I’m lucky to have friends like them.”
Riddle’s frown deepened. “Are they really your friends if they constantly leave you out? If they treat you like an afterthought?”
Prim’s shoulders slumped slightly, and for the first time, her ever-present smile wavered. “They have to be my friends… if they’re not…” she said softly, “then... it would mean I didn’t have any at all…”
Riddle’s chest tightened at her words. He’d never been particularly adept at comforting others, but the sadness in her voice stirred something in him. He’d always been strict, proper, and precise in his interactions, yet in this moment, he felt compelled to say something more.
“You do have a friend,” he said quietly, surprising even himself.
Prim’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Mm?”
Riddle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face heating slightly. “I mean... I wouldn’t invite just anyone to lunch. So if that makes you feel better... consider me your friend.”
For a moment, Prim simply stared at him. Then her face broke into the brightest smile he’d ever seen, her braces gleaming as her eyes filled with joy. “Really? You mean it?”
He cleared his throat, looking away to hide his own embarrassment. “Yes. Of course.”
“Yeah!” Prim said eagerly, her sadness forgotten as she practically beamed at him. “Yeah, I guess we are friends, huh?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The park on Sage Island was quiet that afternoon, the soft rustle of leaves and distant chatter providing a soothing backdrop to Riddle’s thoughts. He didn’t come to the park often—it seemed frivolous to idle in nature when there were more productive things to do—but something had drawn him there today.
It was then that he saw her.
Prim was balancing on a low railing near the path, her arms stretched out for balance and her curls bouncing with each careful step. She looked utterly carefree, the sunlight catching the faint glint of her braces as she smiled to herself.
Riddle slowed his pace, his gaze lingering on her. The sight struck a chord in him—her innocence, her lightheartedness. She embodied a freedom he had never known.
Growing up under his mother’s strict rules, even the thought of such behavior would have been unthinkable. Walking on a railing? Playing games in public? There was no place for that in the rigid schedule of the Rosehearts household. And even now, as a college student, Riddle often felt the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders, keeping him bound to the rules he upheld so fiercely.
Prim, however, seemed untouched by such constraints.
When she spotted him, her face lit up, and she hopped down from the railing with a bounce. “Riddle!” she called, hurrying toward him. “Hi! What a surprise to see you here!”
“Good afternoon, Prim,” he said, straightening his posture.
“It’s so nice to see you,” she said, her grin bright as ever. “Are you here for a walk too?”
“I thought some fresh air might be beneficial,” Riddle replied. “And you?”
“Oh, I’m on my way to the bookstore,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “I need a new diary. My old one’s almost full.”
“A diary,” he echoed.
“Yep!” she said cheerfully. “I write about everything—what I did, how I felt, what made me happy. It’s nice to look back on later, you know?”
Riddle nodded, though he couldn’t fully relate. His own life had always been so structured, so focused on rules and expectations, that the idea of reflecting on daily joys felt almost... indulgent.
As they walked together, Prim continued to chat, her energy as boundless as ever. “I’ve been hanging out less with Hazel, Trinity, and Opal,” she said after a while, her tone casual. “It’s easier now that I have a friend.”
Her words caught him off guard, and he turned to look at her. “You mean me.”
“Of course!” she said brightly, glancing at him with a sincerity that made his chest tighten.
He felt his cheeks heat slightly and quickly looked away. “I... see.”
Prim tilted her head, her expression softening. “Thank you for having lunch with me last week, by the way. It was really nice. I hope I wasn’t talking too much.”
Riddle shook his head. “You were fine. I didn’t mind.”
Her face lit up again, and she clasped her hands together. “I’m glad! I’ve been eating alone more often lately, and I think I finally get what you mean—it’s nice to have that quiet sometimes. It’s efficient, and I can actually focus on my food!”
Hearing her repeat his words from before made something stir in his chest. She wasn’t just cheerful; she genuinely listened.
They walked in companionable silence for a few moments before Prim spoke again. “You should come with me to the bookstore,” she said suddenly, her voice bright.
Riddle blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”
“Why not? It could be fun! And I’m sure they’ve got plenty of interesting books for you to look at.”
He hesitated, searching for a reason to decline, but none came. “I suppose I could use a new reference book,” he said finally, convincing himself it was a practical decision. “Very well.”
Prim clapped her hands together. “Great! Let’s go!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The bookstore was small but inviting, its shelves packed with an eclectic mix of novels, journals, and academic texts. Prim headed straight for the section of journals, her excitement palpable.
“What do you think of this one?” she asked, holding up a diary with a floral cover. “Or this one?” She picked up another, this one decorated with stars.
“They’re both... adequate,” Riddle said diplomatically, though his tone lacked the sternness it usually carried.
Prim giggled. “You’re so formal, Riddle. You’re so cool.”
He stiffened, the unexpected comment catching him off guard. “I—cool is hardly the appropriate word.”
She laughed again, completely unbothered by his awkwardness. “I like it,” she said simply, flipping through the pages of a diary.
Riddle turned his attention to the nearest shelf, scanning the titles even as his thoughts lingered on her. She was so unabashedly sincere, so quick to express herself without reservation. It was entirely unlike him, and yet he found it oddly refreshing.
“What kind of books do you like?” Prim asked suddenly, breaking his train of thought.
“Primarily academic texts,” Riddle replied. “I don’t often read for leisure.”
“That makes sense,” she said with a nod. “You’re so disciplined, Riddle. I admire that about you.”
He glanced at her, momentarily speechless. She said it so matter-of-factly, as if her praise was simply the truth. “Thank you,” he said quietly, unsure of how else to respond.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The walk back from the bookstore was peaceful, with Prim happily clutching her new diary to her chest. She was chatting about the various things she planned to write in it—her favorite moments, her thoughts on the day, and even the little goals she set for herself. Riddle listened quietly, his hands neatly folded behind his back, offering the occasional nod or small response.
As they reached a crossroads in the park, Prim slowed her pace, her expression shifting slightly. “I should probably start studying when I get back,” she said with a small sigh. “I’ve got this one chapter that’s been giving me so much trouble.”
Riddle raised an eyebrow. “What subject?”
“Potions,” Prim replied, scrunching her nose. “There’s this one section about ingredient interactions that I just can’t wrap my head around. It’s like the words blur together every time I try to read it.”
He stopped walking, considering her words. He remembered studying potions theory himself the year prior. It wasn’t an easy subject, especially when it came to understanding the subtleties of ingredient dynamics. But he’d mastered it, of course.
Prim tilted her head, glancing at him curiously. “What is it?”
Riddle felt a flicker of hesitation. The idea of offering his help seemed straightforward enough, but his mind began to overanalyze. Would it be strange to suggest it? They were friends now, weren’t they? And helping a friend was a reasonable thing to do.
But what if she felt pressured to accept? Prim had always been eager to please, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel obligated. Still, she had said she was glad they were friends. Surely she wouldn’t find the gesture unwelcome?
“Riddle?” Prim’s voice was soft, her gaze searching his.
He straightened, pushing his doubts aside with a deep breath. “If you’re struggling with that chapter,” he began carefully, “I could help you study.”
He watched her expression closely, his heart beating just a little faster as he waited for her response.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Prim’s POV
Prim clutched her study books tightly to her chest as she walked toward Night Raven College. The path to the all-boys school was winding, but she didn’t mind. The weather was nice, the air crisp, and her heart felt unusually light.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the day before, when Riddle had offered to help her with her potions studies. It had been so unexpected, and the moment he’d asked, she’d said yes without hesitation.
Of course, she was grateful for his help. Riddle was brilliant—he knew so much, and she was certain he’d explain things far better than her textbook ever could. But more than that, the thought of spending time with him made her genuinely happy.
She smiled to herself, her steps quickening as she remembered the feeling. She’d made an actual friend.
In high school, she’d been alone more often than not. She tried to fit in, but it was like she didn’t quite know how. Her curls were too unruly, her braces too shiny, and her lisp made her stumble over words when she was nervous. She remembered watching other girls gather in groups, laughing and chatting easily, while she lingered on the edges, hoping to be noticed.
When she’d started college, she promised herself things would be different. She’d make friends this time, no matter what. And she had—Hazel, Trinity, and Opal had been quick to include her. But it hadn’t taken long to realize that their kindness only went so far.
Prim sighed softly, her grip tightening on her books. Her so-called friends weren’t really nice to her, not in the way that mattered. She knew that. But wasn’t it better to have bad friends than none at all?
At least, that’s what she used to believe.
But then there was Riddle. He was so different from anyone she’d met before—kind in his own quiet, composed way. He didn’t laugh at her or make her feel small. When he talked to her, it felt like he actually saw her, not just the odd girl with the curls and the braces.
Riddle is a real friend, she thought, her heart fluttering.
She almost started skipping as she neared the gates of Night Raven College, her excitement outweighing her nerves. The idea of walking into an all-boys school was a little intimidating, but she didn’t let it bother her. Riddle had offered to help, and she was determined to make the most of it.
When the imposing gates of the school came into view, Prim spotted a familiar figure waiting for her.
Riddle stood with his hands clasped neatly in front of him, his posture as straight and proper as ever. He spotted her immediately and stepped forward.
“Good afternoon, Prim,” he said, his tone formal but not unfriendly.
“Hi, Riddle!” she greeted, her voice bright as she hurried up to him. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“It’s no trouble,” he replied, gesturing toward the campus. “I thought it would be best to guide you directly to my dorm. Night Raven College can be... confusing to navigate if you’re unfamiliar.”
She nodded eagerly, her nerves momentarily forgotten. “I really appreciate it. I’ll try not to get in the way too much!”
Riddle gave a small shake of his head. “You’re not in the way. I offered, didn’t I?”
Her smile widened at his words, and as they began walking, she glanced around, taking in the grand architecture of the school.
“It’s such a big campus,” she said, her awe evident. “It must be amazing to go here.”
“It has its merits,” Riddle said simply, though there was a faint note of pride in his voice.
Prim followed him through the gates and into the courtyard, her excitement bubbling up again. She had no idea what to expect, but one thing was certain—Riddle was her friend now. She can’t wait for tonight, when she can write in her diary about today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Riddle���s POV
As Riddle led Prim through the gates of Heartslabyul, he noticed the usual shift in demeanor among his dormmates. Students standing idly by quickly straightened their postures, their conversations quieting as they noticed him. It was routine, of course—expected behavior from those under his jurisdiction—but it wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to.
Prim, however, seemed to notice. She glanced around curiously as they passed a group of first-years who hurriedly bowed their heads in greeting.
“Good afternoon, Housewarden!” one of them called.
Prim blinked, slowing her steps slightly. “Housewarden?” she repeated, looking at Riddle.
He cleared his throat, feeling a faint warmth creep up his neck. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “I am the housewarden of Heartslabyul.”
Her eyes widened as the pieces seemed to fall into place. “Ohhh, that makes so much sense now!” she said, her voice light with realization. “No wonder everyone is so respectful around you. You’re in charge!”
Riddle frowned slightly, his usual composure slipping just a little. “It’s merely my duty,” he said, trying to downplay the significance.
Prim, however, seemed delighted. “That’s amazing, Riddle! You must be really good at what you do for them to listen to you like that.”
Her praise caught him off guard, and he quickly turned his attention back to the path, his face warming further. “It’s nothing remarkable. Let’s continue to my room.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When they reached his room, Riddle opened the door and stepped aside to let Prim in. She hesitated for a moment before walking in, clutching her books tightly.
“I’ve never been in a boy’s room before,” she said with a small giggle, glancing around.
Riddle stiffened, his hand tightening slightly on the doorknob. “It’s just a room,” he said quickly, closing the door behind them.
Prim wandered further inside, her eyes wide as she took in the neat, organized space. The room was larger than she had expected, with a tidy desk, bookshelves filled to the brim, and a large canopy bed. Everything was perfectly arranged, a reflection of Riddle’s meticulous nature.
“This is so nice!” she said, smiling as she turned to him. “It’s so... Riddle.”
He blinked. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s so neat and organized,” she said, laughing lightly. “It just feels like you. I love it.”
Her laughter was high but not too loud often accompanied by a snort. It was infectious and Riddle found himself relaxing slightly.
Prim grinned, plopping herself onto the edge of the chair near his desk and opening her books. “Okay, ready to study?”
He nodded, pulling out a chair for himself and settling in beside her. “Let’s begin. You mentioned you were struggling with ingredient interactions?”
As they worked through the chapter, Riddle was surprised by how focused Prim was. Though she had trouble grasping some of the concepts at first, she listened intently to his explanations, asking thoughtful questions and jotting down notes.
Her enthusiasm was refreshing, and Riddle found himself genuinely enjoying the session.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A knock at the door interrupted them just as Prim was beginning to understand a particularly tricky concept.
“Come in,” Riddle called, glancing up.
The door opened to reveal Trey, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. He smiled when he saw them. “I thought you two might want a snack,” he said, placing the tray on the desk.
Prim’s eyes lit up. “Oh, wow! These look amazing!”
“They’re still warm,” Trey said with a chuckle. “Help yourselves.”
Prim picked up a cookie and took a bite, her eyes widening in delight. “These are so good!” she said, her voice muffled slightly by the cookie.
Riddle picked one up as well, though he was far more reserved in his reaction. “Thank you, Trey,” he said politely.
Trey turned to Prim, bowing his head slightly wearing a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m Trey, the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul.”
Prim sat up straight and returned his smile with one of her own. “Nice to meet you too! I’m Prim!”
Trey smiled knowingly, glancing between the two of them. “Well… Let me know if you need anything else,” he said before heading out.
As the door closed, Prim turned to Riddle, her smile as bright as ever. “Your dormmates are so nice. And these cookies? Best study snack ever.”
Riddle nodded, feeling a faint sense of pride in Heartslabyul’s hospitality. “Trey is an excellent baker,” he said.
Prim grinned, holding up her notebook. “And you’re an excellent teacher. I’m actually starting to get this now!”
Riddle looked at her, his expression softening. “You’re a quick learner,” he said. “You just needed someone to explain it in a way that made sense to you.”
Her smile widened, and she leaned forward slightly. “Thanks, Riddle. Really. You’re the best.”
His face warmed again, and he quickly turned back to the open book in front of him. “Let’s continue,” he said, his voice a little tighter than usual.
Prim giggled, taking another bite of her cookie before diving back into her notes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Riddle shifted in his chair, trying to focus on the textbook in front of him, but his thoughts kept wandering. It wasn’t the material that distracted him—he’d long since mastered the subject—but rather Prim, who was sitting just a little too close.
She was leaning forward slightly, her notebook open as she jotted down notes, the end of her pencil tapping lightly against her lip in thought. Her blonde curls framed her face in soft spirals, bouncing faintly with every movement. Her braces gleamed when she smiled, the colorful elastics drawing his attention in a way he didn’t expect.
When she spoke, her slight lisp added an unexpected charm to her words, her voice full of enthusiasm even as she struggled with the material.
Riddle frowned slightly, feeling a warmth creep up his neck. He wasn’t used to this—having someone so close, so lively, so...
He surprised himself when the thought crossed his mind: She’s kind of cute.
The realization made his stomach twist, and he quickly looked back at his book, his posture stiffening. Focus, Riddle, he scolded himself silently. You’re here to help her study, nothing more.
Still, it was difficult to ignore her presence, especially when she turned to him with that bright smile, her gratitude shining in her eyes.
When their study session ended, Prim packed up her books, her smile never fading. “Thank you so much, Riddle,” she said for what felt like the tenth time. “You’re seriously the best. I actually feel like I understand this now!”
“It was no trouble,” he replied, his voice clipped as he tried to maintain his composure.
Riddle walked her back to the gates, insisting on showing her the way in case she would get lost. Walking back they made a bit of small talk and Riddle could feel the stares. But he tried to ignore them, he was just walking his friend out.
Prim slung her bag over her shoulder, pausing when they arrived at the gates. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks again!”
She waved cheerfully before walking back to her own dorm, leaving Riddle alone.
He let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing. The session had gone well, but he couldn’t shake the strange fluttering sensation in his chest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later, in the Heartslabyul lounge, Riddle sat with a book in hand, though his thoughts kept drifting back to Prim’s visit.
“Hey, Riddle!”
He looked up to see Trey and Cater approaching, both wearing knowing smiles.
“How did the study session go?” Trey asked casually, though there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.
“Was she nice? Fun? Cute?” Cater added, leaning in with a teasing grin.
Riddle frowned, not catching the implication. “It went well. She understood the material by the end, and she was very polite.”
Cater’s grin widened. “Oh, ‘polite,’ huh? That’s it?”
“She seemed... eager to learn,” Riddle continued, ignoring Cater’s tone.
Trey chuckled softly. “And you were okay with her being in your space? You usually don’t let just anyone into your room.”
Riddle hesitated, adjusting his tie. “She’s a friend,” he said finally. “It’s natural to help a friend, isn’t it?” Calling her a friend almost made him feel proud.
Cater exchanged a look with Trey, his grin turning sly. “Right. A ‘friend.’”
Before Riddle could respond, the lounge door burst open, and Ace and Deuce strolled in.
“Hey, Housewarden!” Ace called, plopping down on one of the couches. “We heard you had a guest today.”
Deuce looked confused. “Guest?”
“Yeah,” Ace said, smirking. “A girl.”
Riddle’s grip on his book tightened. “What of it?”
“C’mon, spill! Is she your girlfriend or something?” Ace asked, leaning forward with an exaggerated grin.
Riddle’s face turned red, and he slammed his book shut. “O-of course not!” he snapped, his voice sharp.
Ace burst out laughing, clearly enjoying himself. “Whoa, calm down! I was just asking.”
“She’s a friend, nothing more,” Riddle said firmly, glaring at Ace.
Deuce, sensing the tension, elbowed Ace. “Knock it off, Ace. You’re being rude.”
“What? I’m just curious!” Ace said, still grinning.
Riddle stood abruptly, his expression stern. “If you’re finished with your childish remarks, I have work to do.”
He strode out of the lounge, his cape billowing behind him, leaving the others behind.
Trey shook his head, though he was smiling faintly. “You pushed too hard, Ace.”
“Aw, come on,” Ace said, leaning back with a laugh. “You can’t blame me for asking. Did you see how flustered he got?”
Cater grinned. “I don’t know, Ace. Maybe he’s just new to this whole ‘having friends’ thing.”
“Or maybe,” Trey said with a small chuckle, “he’s starting to realize that having a friend like Prim might be a little more important to him than he thought.”
None of them noticed the faint blush creeping up Riddle’s ears as he listened just outside the door, his grip tightening on his book.
#twst oc#twisted wonderland#riddle rosehearts#prim#Chat GPT helped me with the format and stuff but scenarios are all from this rotting brain
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Could you do reader and rafes reaction to when they found out easer is first pregnant for the force’s marriage au? LOVED the first part!!
First pregnancy || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader
A/n: this fic is a 100% how i think rafe and reader would react in this situation
Warnings: mention of pregnancy, angst if there's anything else lmk
Word count: 1,457
MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)
divider by @h-aewo
You flip over the pregnancy test, your heart sinking as you see two lines. Of course. It was inevitable, given the life you’ve been cornered into. You sigh, throwing the test into the bin with a mixture of resignation and dread.
Leaning against the cool marble sink, you catch your reflection in the mirror—your eyes heavy with a sense of inevitability that’s become all too familiar. The pristine bathroom feels suffocating, its sterile white tiles and polished fixtures reflecting the stark reality you’re trapped in.
Leaving the bathroom, you make your way downstairs to the living room, each step heavy with the weight of what this means. Rafe had left for work a few hours earlier, leaving you alone in the house. It’s been this way for a while—his absence during these crucial moments only magnifies the distance between you.
The quiet of the house, broken only by the soft footfalls of the servants, feels more isolating than comforting. In the corner of your eye, you notice Anita descending the stairs. She’s one of the few people who’ve been with you since you were young, a steady presence in the chaos of your life.
You assume she’s just finished cleaning your room, making everything perfect as always. “Anita?” you call out, your voice softer than intended. She stops, turning to you with a gentle smile that’s both comforting and bittersweet. “Yes, Miss?” she replies, her tone warm and familiar. You look up from your phone, hesitating for a moment.
“Not a word to Rafe, please,” you say, your voice firmer this time, carrying the weight of the secret you now bear. Anita’s eyes soften with understanding. She doesn’t need any more explanation. “Of course, congratulations to you both. Your parents will be overjoyed, they’ve been waiting for this,” she says before continuing on her way.
Her words hit you like a blow to the chest, knocking the breath from your lungs. Of course, your parents would be thrilled. This is all they ever wanted from you and Rafe—a continuation of the family bloodline, a legacy to carry forward. They didn’t care if the two of you were unhappy, if this marriage was more a prison than a partnership. As long as the family name persisted, nothing else mattered.
~
"Where is she?" Rafe's voice echoes through the quiet house, sharp and impatient. Anita’s calm response cuts through the tension. "She isn’t feeling well, Mr. Cameron," she says, her tone polite and soothing. Rafe grunts in acknowledgment and takes his seat at the dining table, his eyes scanning the empty chair opposite him—usually filled by you each morning.
Later that day, as you and Rafe drive to your parents' house for lunch, a wave of nausea washes over you. You place one hand protectively on your lower stomach, the other coming up to cover your mouth as you close your eyes and focus on steadying your breath. Morning sickness has been relentless lately, more intense and persistent than before. While you’ve managed to keep it hidden from Rafe up until now, the strain is starting to show.
Rafe’s gaze flickers to you briefly, his eyes narrowing with concern. Without a word, he reaches into the console and retrieves a bottle of water, handing it to you with an absent-minded flick of his wrist. He doesn’t even glance at you as he passes it over. "Thanks," you murmur, your voice barely audible as you unscrew the lid and take a slow sip, your eyes fixed out the window.
As the car rolls to a stop in front of your family estate, Rafe is already unbuckling his seatbelt, eager to get this over with. But before he can move, you reach out, your hand covering his, halting his actions. He glances at you, confusion etched across his features. You swallow hard, struggling to find the words, your eyes searching his before you turn away, staring blankly out the windshield.
You feel his gaze on your side profile, waiting, perhaps sensing the gravity of what you’re about to say. "I'm pregnant," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air between you, heavy and unyielding. You feel Rafe tense beside you, the atmosphere in the car growing thick with unspoken emotions. His reaction is immediate and sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.
"Are you seriously telling me this right now? Just before we see your parents?" His voice is laced with anger, catching you completely off guard. You turn to face him, your expression one of disbelief. Is he seriously getting mad right now? Of all the reactions you had braced yourself for, this wasn’t one of them.
"I just told you we're having a child, and this is how you react?" you snap, incredulous. Your disbelief quickly morphs into anger as you watch him look away, his jaw clenched in frustration. His silence only fuels your rage. "Fucking unbelievable," you mutter under your breath as you unbuckle your seatbelt and shove the car door open.
The door slams shut behind you with a resounding thud as you storm toward the front entrance, your emotions boiling over. You’re only a few steps away when you hear Rafe’s car door fly open, followed by the sound of his voice, sharp and laced with frustration.
"What do you expect me to say when you just laid that out on me?" he calls out, his anger evident in every word. You whirl around, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your eyes narrowed as they lock onto his. His expression is a mix of confusion and fury, as if he’s grappling with the enormity of your news and how it collided with the timing.
For a moment, neither of you speak, the tension between you crackling in the crisp air. "I expected you to care!" you finally snap back, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. Rafe’s eyes widen, caught between defensiveness and something that almost resembles guilt. "I do care," he retorts, his voice softer now but still edged with frustration. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you.
"But you couldn’t have picked a worse time to tell me. We’re about to walk into your parents’ house, and you drop this on me like it’s nothing?" You can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes your lips. "You think I planned this? That I wanted to tell you in the driveway? I’ve been dealing with this alone, trying to figure out how to break it to you. But every time, you’re either too busy or too angry for me to even get a word in."
His expression falters, and for a split second, you think you see a flicker of understanding in his eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar mask of indifference. "And you thought now was the best time?" he asks, shaking his head in disbelief.
"What do you want me to say, Rafe?" you ask, your voice raw with emotion. "That I should’ve kept it to myself? Pretended everything was fine until it wasn’t? We’re having a child, and I needed you to know before we walked in there and pretended to be the perfect couple again."
Rafe looks away, his jaw clenched tight as he struggles to process the situation. You watch the conflict play out in his eyes, the tug-of-war between the emotions he’s expected to feel and the reality of what he actually feels. His frustration is palpable, and after a tense moment, he sighs heavily, bringing his hands up to massage his temples.
"Can we just get through this lunch, please?" he finally says, his voice soft, almost pleading. His tone catches you off guard—there’s a vulnerability there that you’re not used to hearing from him. You stare at him, torn between wanting to push the conversation further and knowing that now isn’t the time.
His request isn’t unreasonable, but it stings nonetheless, a reminder of the emotional distance that still exists between you. "Fine," you reply after a moment, your voice tinged with resignation. "But this doesn’t change anything. We still need to talk about this—really talk about it."
Rafe nods, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "I know," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the unspoken hangs heavy between you as you both turn toward the imposing front door of your family estate, ready to face the charade of normalcy that awaits inside.
#rafe cameron x fem!reader forced marriage au#drew starkey#rafe cameron#outer banks#fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron x you#drew starkey x y/n#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe outerbanks#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron and reader#rafe cameron and you#outer banks x y/n#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks x you#outer banks x reader#drew starkey imagine
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RAISE THE STAKES.
being a therapist was hard enough without the leader of an infamous group becoming your patient or to answer your questions, sylus has a few requests.
(18+, no minors! no blank accounts!) inappropriate relationships, patient!slyus, therapist!reader, munch slyus, oral and female masturbation, slight pussy inspection, dirty talk. exhibitionism, dry humping, word count: 3k... short and sweet
tagging: @xmiisuki @sunasbon @sugugasm <3
There was something clinical and plain about your office — though technically you were a type of doctor — the decor screamed hospital more than a comfortable place to tell your deepest darkest secrets. Faint pale blue walls with littered old stickers from the previous child therapist and even the stench of crayons … not to mention the floor tiles, squared with an iced blue paint that made the room both childish and clinical. Something fitting for a child hospital or even a former child psych ward.
That was the reason you decided for this particular appointment you’d switch rooms to somewhere more adult and that hopefully your boss would let you stay there. The pristine polished marble floors and white walls, two empty lush chairs and a small brown wooden table with magazines with two waters sitting on top. This was your dream room and one you felt you deserved. You were the most decorated person on your floor — top of your class in your undergrad and graduate class, internships at major places, yet you settled for here. Settled. It was smack dabbed in the middle of a city that needed you most. A dangerous city… but somewhere you felt like you could actually make a difference.
Sitting in the chair towards the window you awaited for Sylus Qin – a name that sent more than enough shivers up your spine but who’s name spiked your curiosity, especially seeing it written for a first appointment directly with you.
He walked in, his presence loud and alarming from the moment he stepped into the door, looking at you before he sat down in the seat closest to the door. You inhaled, the deep smell of metallic and what you must’ve guessed was gunpowder filled your nostrils. “You’re late,” You told him with a small smile. “And for your first appointment nevertheless.” Your tone is light and playful, you only hoped that he understood that.
He arches a white brow and slouches back on the couch, it was obviously too small for his broad body and long legs but he still stretched them so they were nearing yours. “A meeting held me up.” He waited for some form of reaction before he looked away from you, probably now disappointed when your face remained blank.
You cleared your throat, “I’m quite sure that you didn’t come here on your own volition, so why are you here? I know that you of all people couldn’t have been forced.” You crossed your legs, watching his eyes glance at them.
“Two nuisances…” He grumbles, his face scrunched into a deadly scowl but his crimson eyes remain gentle as he looks at you. “It seems that I’ve been even more aggressive as of late.” He shrugs his shoulders as if he disagrees with the diagnosis.
“Well… what made them come to that conclusion?” You watched him open his mouth to answer before he paused, thinking something. It takes a while before he speaks again and when he does he shocks you.
“What do I get if I answer any of your silly little questions…?” There’s a huskiness to his voice, a rough edge as he speaks. His eyes are trained on you, following you as your body sways a bit.
You quirk a brow, “You want a reward for being…compliant?” You straighten your posture, looking at him with slightly wide eyes, it was the first time someone asked for something so ridiculous. “You tell me what you want—” You start before he interrupts you.
“Your panties.” Curt. Simple. Straightforward. You blinked, staring at this man and questioning how you managed to get yourself in this position.
Was the money worth it? That was the question roaming around your head as you just stared at him. How could he ask you such a thing with a serious face expression. “My panties? That would tempt you to answer the questions truthfully?” The skirt you were wearing felt a thousand times shorter and the room felt too warm for you to ignore the wetness you felt between your —
Your eyes twitched. A conversation alone, brief… and your panties were drenched, sticky to your folds. It would do wonders for your career to have gotten the man himself… the big leader of a malicious group to be less violence. So you sigh, “You want them now—”
“As an act of good faith,” He says smoothly. “Let’s put all our cards out on the table…How about you at least take them off so I know you’re being truthful to me.”
You sucked your teeth, debating with yourself on if you really should do this or not. Your career is on the line regardless of each decision. You could just deny him, tell him off and force him out of your office. But your body seemed to be screaming at you to just do it. You hadn’t had sex nor a true orgasm in more than a year… possibly two and yet with him sitting in front of you, you felt as if you were close.
Your mouth no longer produces saliva and your throat dry as you slide them down your legs; you held them and watched a smirk take over his face. You couldn’t believe yourself honestly, this wasn’t something you’d ever expect yourself to do. While you weren’t exactly a good girl, you had standards… you couldn’t believe you were being so trashy. Yet the excitement in your body spilled out of your center and with his eyes glued there while you removed your underwear, your body shook.
“Already the air smells so better in here.” He chuckles and you feel embarrassment cloud your mind. “To answer your question from before… Apparently they believe I’m in a foul mood since I’ve been less tolerant on certain things that in the past, I was more passive on. They’ve expressed to me that with the rough ways I’ve been handling business has grown rather…impulsive.”
“Do you agree with that?” You recross your legs. “I’ve always heard that you were impulsive and honestly, I never heard anyone say you were passive… Do you think you’ve ever been passive? Do you think you can paint me a picture of yourself?”
He reaches out his hand and for a moment you’re confused before you realize he’s asking for his reward. Handing him the panties, you see him sniff them and it makes your insides quiver. This man… he was too much for you.
“I see myself as…” He thinks, his eyebrows furrowed, he taps his foot on the ground. “I often find myself bored and find myself indulging in self destructive behavior... taking on more than I can and getting myself injured.” He scoffs. “I guess this particular time they're talking about is when I knew I was being set up but still decided to go alone without informing them - Luke and Kieran, I mean.”
“So they care about you?” You ask, mentally taking notes of every word and ever ounce of movement and even taking account of his voice and tone.
“Sure.” His voice has a slight tremble to it. “We’ve been together for longer than I can remember being without them…” Then he’s closed off again, acting as if he revealed too much to you. His crimson eyes trace up your legs again, he bites his lips.
You recrossed your legs. “Anyway…” You cough. “Is there a thrill in putting yourself in these situations? Or is there a need to demonstrate that your reputation is correct… to stop or limit people from defying you?” You are met with silence and a sinister glint in Sylus’ eyes. “Sylus? Do you need me to repeat the question?”
“I answered some for your panties. For this next question, you’ll have to do something else for me to answer it… unless you want a lie…or more silence.” His roaming eyes told you all that you needed to know, this request would be more.
A scowl on your face, “My panties weren’t enough?” You’re close to rolling your eyes at him, you want to hate him but it’s something in those eyes that keeps you from it. After this you knew that you’d decline any other visits from him, you might as well entertain him— no, you want to slap yourself for even thinking that thought.
“I wanna see you cum, pet that pretty pussy and put a show on for me.” He says and you gasp, full blown as you stare at him. “C’mon kitten, don’t be so coy.” His eyes darkened but still his tone remained playful; slick gathered at your thighs and it’s almost as if he scented it with how quick his eyes snapped to your skirt.
“Sylus, the panties were already inappropriate enough. I can lose my license—” You stammer, your voice small and timid as you speak. This man… would be the death of you.
“I won’t let that happen.”
You swallow, staring hard in his eyes. Looking in his eyes made you want to bend to his every whim and to continue. Your thighs spread a bit because honestly, you wanted this. “Fine.” You relinquished every ounce of self respect you had for yourself and spread your legs completely apart. A slap of cool air brushes against your bare skin, your shutter but spread your folds. You rub at your clit, staring in those addicting eyes.
He drinks in the sight of you — dripping and oozing out spilling to the chair, he straightens himself, his eyes now locked between your thighs. Your clit is hard and throbbing knowing that his eyes are on your most delicate parts. You circle your entrance, collecting the slick that sits there before you dip it inside – teasing both you and him. You feel the warmth of yourself as you stroke your finger in and out of your walls, sloppy noises echoing around the room. Your thighs tremble and breathing heavy, he briefly glances at your face and back to the dripping sight below. Your face scrunched up in a sense of pure ecstasy, you pop your finger out of your cunt and you put a finger in your mouth before rubbing your clit again, your thighs bucking and your hips humping upwards.
His feet tap against the floor watching another finger join the one already knuckle deep inside of you, his fingers twitch looking at how wet and creamy your fingers are pumping in and out. “There’s a thrill… and excitement that comes with doing dangerous things…” His voice trails off, your mouth agape spilling little moans. “It feels good… it’s never a sense of pride, it’s more of a –” Using your other hand, you rub fast at your clit at the same time your fingers thrust inside deeper, hitting another spot that makes a bit of cream drip under you. “It’s more of a simple pleasure, just something to take the edge off of life. It’s a high… c’mon kitten, you’re killing me there. Need to see your face when you cum.”
Your stomach sucks in at the words and you whine, leaking with a deep orgasm and deep breathing. “Ohhhhh!” Cream continues to spill out, you milk yourself more – curling your fingers before you pull them out with a drawn out moan. “Oh, mmm…” You feel so tired, your eyes dropping and a fuzzy brain when you turn your attention back on him.
“What’s your next request for answering this last question?” You huff, your face flushed and your body trembling. You still tried to cover yourself but he just laughed, full and heartily.
“I want you to sit on my face.” He’s hard, tapping his foot against the floor again still looking at your creamy pussy. “That’s all.”
“What?” But it shouldn’t surprise you anymore, no matter how much you fought on his demands… you knew you’d give in and you knew how badly you wanted him.
“I want you to sit on my face.” He said again, nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.
“But… why? Are you trying to make me lose my job? Or are you just insane and don’t care about my livelihood or my dignity?” But really, it didn’t matter, with all you did now… your license was already revoked.
“Would you rather be a good girl and sit on my lap? Grind yourself on my cock?” It was an enticing offer and you had to mentally stop yourself from taking it up. “Just keep being an obedient little girl like you have been and come sit on my face.” He’s pulling himself from the chair to lie on the floor with a bright smile on his lips. He waited, both of you already knew that you were going to come.
“First... put your fingers in my mouth.” It makes you jump when he says that but you swallow your nerves and pride, reaching over and letting his tongue work its way through your fingers, his tongue slimy wet and sticky all at once. He groans out at the taste. “Sit.” He says simply. You’d never did this before, your legs trembled just standing above his head and even more when you bent down.
You hovered over him, a string of your slick dripping over his face before he moved his head to capture it between his tongue with a groan; swirling his tongue in a circular motion as he took in the taste. “So wet…tastes so good.” His voice deep and inviting; sticking his tongue inside then flicks his tongue against your clit and wraps his mouth around it — sucking it before he releases it with a plop sound. “Sit.” He told you, rubbing his hands across your ass, spreading it so that your pussy would wink at him with a small gushy sound. He firmly sits completely on his face so that his face is covered with you.
His tongue feels like a thousand tongues when you drip over his face, grinding your hips and circling them. Your knees digging into the floor when you slide forward and back against him.“Sy–lus!” The pad of his tongue licks up your slit, moving to your folds and up to suckle on your throbbing clit. You tug his hair and he buries his face impossibly more into your pussy. Grinding and shaking his face into you before gripping your hips to make you really grind against his mouth.
You squeal with every moment as he uses his tongue to curl deep inside of you – your legs shaking and he slurps. Your toes curl inside of your stuffy shoes and though you can’t see his face because of the skirt you wear, you can feel the devilish smirk against your flesh.
He pulls you up, holds you. A string of his salvia and your slick and cream mixed together on his lips. “Never did ask that question, sweetie.”
“Oh, fuck you Sylus.” He’s sitting you back down, your thighs squeezing his head. His mouth latched to your clit and doing deep sucks with his fingers pressed deep in your thighs. Opening his mouth wider to truly capture all of what he can of your cunt — there’s a deep hunger in every lick he gives, his tongue dragging down from your clit to your slit and back up again. He laps at your folds with nothing else but groans and soft moans that leave both of your mouths.
His tongue swirls on your clit before small soft kisses that make you flinch. Cream and slick trickling down your thighs, your hips continue to hump him — it was as if his face belonged there, his tongue glued to your core and eating up everything you had to offer. Lifting you again, he says, “Want to feel that pretty pussy soaking me… you’d like that won’t you?” He grins, showing all his teeth. You’re quick to nod your head, tears in your eyes… this man was turning you into his plaything and you could care less… there was a thrill to this.
He doesn’t take off his pants much to your disappointment but he helps you to sit on his lap, his lust filled scarlet eyes filled with nothing but desire as he rolls his hips against yours. A small gasp leaves your mouth, your bare cunt soaking his pants and his cock deliciously digging into your core. You wrap your arms around his neck and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him thrust up against your throbbing center.
Throwing your head back – you rock your hips back and forth against his clothed cock – feeling him press himself harder into you, rubbing himself against your core with deep throaty groans of pleasure leaving his mouth. You try to match his movements, hips bouncing up and down against him with needy whines leaving your lips. You both hiss when his cockhead brushes up against your clit – he rubs himself back and forth repeatedly, slowly while you move faster – chasing that high and in that moment you knew of the pleasure and the high that Sylus mentioned earlier because your body was reveling in it.
Your stomach swoops at the sticky sounds that come from your pussy and the soft noises he makes. Even with soundproof office spaces, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard you both. Lazy grinding becomes thrusting again before downright dirty gyrating of both of you against each other – so close, you were almost there yet again. Pathetic sinful whimpers falling out of your mouth, he presses openmouthed kisses up and down your neck, nibbling on your clavicle. Your back arches, tears falling from your eyes, your pussy sliding against him and his hips stuttering. But he stops, standing you both up.
“W–why’d you stop?” You’re gasping for air on trembling legs, he holds you close. Small sniffles leaving your mouth, desperate to feel him.
“I believe our time is up, sweetie. Maybe another visit will help unpack more.” He chuckles, walking towards the door. “I’ll return these on my next visit.”
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x you#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x mc#lnds sylus#lnds#lnds x reader#lnds x you#l&ds#l&ds sylus#l&ds x you#l&ds x reader#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace smut#love and deepspace scenarios#lnds smut#l&ds smut#sylus x reader#sylus qin#sylus#lads sylus#lads smut#lads x reader#lads x y/n#lads x you#sylus x you#sylus smut#sylus x y/n#slyus qin x reader#sylus qin x you
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A Confession Through Written Words — Housewardens x gn! reader
summery: you confess through a love letter, it doesn't fail to warm his heart.
tw: none.
a/n: idk I was bored
wc: 1.6k (~200 per character)
Master List
❥ Riddle Rosehearts
You had put your all into the presentation of the letter. You tried to make your handwriting as neat as possible while spilling your feelings astutely so as to not overcloud the meaning or make it look like a joke. Perhaps you were overthinking the whole ordeal, but who wouldn’t when confessing your feelings? You had managed to slip the letter into his bag without him noticing. In fact, he wouldn’t find the pristine white letter until he was getting ready for bed. At first he was confused, he hadn’t recalled receiving a letter, but it was addressed to him, and he carefully opened it, making sure to not rip the rose sticker holding the envelope closed. Riddle wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t a meticulously written love letter from you. His heart rate sped up, his face burning a bright red once he got to the end. He could barely sleep that night, not with you running through his head. The next day he dutifully wrote his own letter as a reply, handing it to you without meeting your eyes. Open it once you’re alone, yeah? He doesn’t think he can handle your reaction even though you were the first to confess.
❥ Leona Kingscholar
You weren’t sure how to approach Leona with your feelings. He tended to be a bit snarky and you were a bit sensitive about your feelings. You don’t think you could handle him dismissing you or making a rude comment in your moment of vulnerability. So what better way then to write a letter? You knew he wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t perfect, if anything he’d tease you for not saying it to his face, but you could handle that. After you rewrote the letter for the eleventh time, you decided it was good enough and you made your way to Leona’s room. He watched you lazily as you entered. You thought he was asleep, so you placed the letter on his nightstand before taking a seat on his bed. Curiosity ate at him, but he refrained from making any comments, using the guise of sleep to pull you into him so he could finally get some good rest. When you left, he took no time to rip open the letter, carelessly ripping the lion sticker in two. He couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, even though he was the best, it was still a surprise to read your genuine feelings for him. He won’t let you worry for long, tomorrow he’ll make sure you know that you're his herbivore.
❥ Azul Ashengrotto
You had tried to confess to him before, but his suaveness had left you tongue tied everytime. Or when his suave facade crumbled into a genuine care…that left your mind reeling, unable to mutter how much he meant to you. So you wrote a letter, and even though writing how you felt was easier than speaking it…it still wasn’t easy to write. Your trashcan was filled with crumpled up papers with pencil marking scratched out. When you finally had a letter you deemed good enough, you tried to make it look as fancy as you could. Unfortunately, Floyd had snatched the letter the next day before you could even greet him. You watched him run away with genuine horror, hoping that he wouldn’t read it before Azul at the very least. Fortunately for you, Floyd held off on opening it, handing the letter to Azul with an eager smile. Jade watched on as well, somehow already aware of the predicament. Glaring at the two, Azul opened it later when he was alone in the VIP of Monstro Lounge. He had recognized your handwriting right away, carefully thumbing the pearl sticker before opening it with a letter opener. Azul could barely get through the first sentence without becoming an overheated mess. He’s another one tossing and turning that night. Instead of blatantly stating his feelings out in the open, he offers you to go on a date so you know that he’s serious about you as well.
❥ Kalim Al-Asim
You had tried to confess to him…many times. Every time you told him you loved him, he just smiled back and told you he loved you too…but you knew he didn’t understand you meant it romantically. Every hand hold, cheek kiss, hell, you both had cuddled multiple times and he never seemed to get that you were interested in him as more than just a friend! So you decided to write exactly how you felt, getting all your messy feelings out in the open. With how bubbly he was, you didn’t feel too awkward handing him the letter in person, only telling him to read it later when he’s alone. Unbeknownst to you…Kalim had almost lost your letter multiple times that day. Not that he doesn’t care for you! He’s just a bit of an air head that has too much on their mind. Please thank Jamil for hanging on to it, reminding Kalim to read it after dinner was over. When Kalim finally read the letter (after fawning over the adorable golden retriever sticker), he couldn’t contain his excitement. He almost ran straight to your dorm if it weren’t for Jamil blocking him. Expect multiple gifts the next day along with more affection than you thought was possible. Kalim needs to get his bouts of cute aggression out, and what better way than drowning you in jewels?
❥ Vil Schoenheit
As much as you adored Vil, he was a bit…intimidating. His lilac gaze could pierce through the toughest metal, but it could also melt the coldest heart. You had unsurprisingly found yourself falling for the star, but you couldn’t help but feel like a fan no matter how you thought approaching him with your feelings. If anything, the letter felt like the most cliche fan stereotype ever, and even though he called you a friend, you feared he’d take it the wrong way. So you decided a letter was the best bet, that way you didn’t have to see his reaction. Yet when you had tried to sneak the letter to him, it was out of your hands in the blink of an eye and you stared in horror as Rook offered it to Vil. At first, Vil thought it was fanmail, staring at it with slight disdain, but he opened it anyway, not caring how the crown sticker tore. He barely scanned over the letter until he read your name at the very end, eyes glancing up to see your terribly anxious expression. So he reread it, this time carefully scrutinizing over every word, and although a letter wasn’t exactly how he wanted you to confess, he still felt his heartbeat increase with every lovely feeling you felt towards him. Closing the letter, he watched fondly as you fidgeted, clearing his voice and demanding you to ask him on a date properly.
❥ Idia Shroud
You had been secretly fawning over Idia for so long you felt like you were going to burst. You had wanted to confess to him for so long…but you feared that you’d break the poor man. So you decided to write him a letter…er more like a text. You weren’t sure if he’d even know how to open a letter… Poor, poor Idia. He nearly had five heart attacks when he saw your chat bubble appear for twenty minutes then disappear only to appear again. He tried to play his game, ignore the damned three dots that kept taunting him, but his eyes couldn’t stop trailing down to his phone. Do you know how many times you caused him to die? Oh boy, and when you did send it? The little blue heart at the end had nearly ended him before he even read a word! He had read and reread the text so many times you couldn’t even count, and don’t mind that he screenshotted it and saved it to a super secure private photo album so only he could see it. Don’t expect a reply. He’s too busy having a meltdown, hair burning a bright pink for the rest of the night. Do expect Ortho to ramble about how happy his brother got the night before, unsure of why but happy nonetheless. And when Ortho finds out why? Expect a text from Idia saying that he doesn’t mind your presence too much…yes Ortho forced him to say something back and yes that was him confirming that he likes you back.
❥ Malleus Draconia
Malleus was traditional to an extent, that was something anyone could tell. He also always had you feeling like you were living in a fantasy romance novel with the way he treated you. You hadn’t even thought of confessing your feelings in person, a letter seeming like a traditional and very Malleus adjacent confession. You tried your best to write with fancy curling letters…if you failed at that task…that's up to you. What stumped you was how to give it to him. In those old timey romance movies and novels they sent it through the mail…but you both lived on the same grounds. Handing it to him seemed a bit too forward, and you either didn’t trust or felt too embarrassed to ask his retainers to pass it to him. But you sucked it up and went to your safest option, Silver. Malleus was surprised to have a letter handed to him, another one to open it with a letter opener. He felt his breath hitch with each word you lovingly wrote, warmth blooming in his chest. Like the gentleman he is, he writes you a loving letter back (one that you can barely read with how loopy the cursive was), and it’s the most poetic thing you have ever read. Be prepared to cry at how much he loves you.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst wonderland x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#kalim al asim x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#idia shroud x reader#malleus draconia x reader#twisted wonderland#twst#twst wonderland#riddle rosehearts#leona kingscholar#azul ashengrotto#kalim al asim#vil schoenheit#idia shroud#malleus draconia#x reader#imagine#ficlet
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle
Summary: Things begin to develop in your new relationship with Simon, but luck is so rarely on your side.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 7,074
Warnings: Slight NSFW, suggestive content, kissing, dry humping, anguage, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, Ghost’s emotional constipation, angst, a wee bit of horror at the beginning, also a lot of feet in this chapter (gross), oh yeah and did I mention ANGST
A/N: Please don't hate me
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
It’s far too quiet. You can hear the air blowing through the vents, the quiet hum of the fluorescents in the hallway. You push yourself up to sit, the blankets falling around your waist. It’s still dark out, the blurry time on your clock reading just past 2 AM. You’re not quite sure why you’re awake, aside from the eerie silence that has settled over the barracks.
You push your blankets back, shivering as you leave the warm, cozy comfort of your nest. You shove your feet into your slippers to avoid the cold floor before standing, making your way slowly to your door. Something feels wrong, something feels off. You’re on guard, listening, waiting for a sign of whatever is causing such a reaction.
The click of the lock on your door might as well have been a gunshot in the silence, the sound almost echoing. Any chance of stealth is out the window, so you’ll have to be prepared to run in case something happens, in case something is waiting for you on the other side of the door. How something or someone could have gotten in without the guys noticing is beyond you, but you suppose nothing is impossible.
You crack the door open, peeking out through the gap, but you can’t see anything. No one’s moving around, no one’s waiting for you on the other side. The urge to hold your breath is strong as you step out of your room, the silence almost deafening. It’s too still, not even the sound of snores coming from the other rooms. The stillness is eerie, sending a violent shiver down your spine.
You take a cautious step towards John’s room, moving on your tiptoes to avoid making any noise. You don’t really want to wake him two hours before he normally gets up, but you can’t stand the feeling crawling beneath your skin. Even if you just slip into bed beside him, it’ll make you feel safer in this ominous atmosphere that’s settled over the barracks.
The sound of shuffling breaks the silence, making you freeze mid-step. Your breath catches in your lungs, muscles tensing as you pray it was just your imagination, or perhaps your own movements that disturbed the unearthly quiet. Time seems to still as you stand there frozen, your heart pulsing in your ears.
The sound of shuffling unmistakably echoes in the air again. You don’t care how much noise you make as you take off running to John’s door, throwing it open in hopes it wakes him immediately before whatever it is that’s creeping around the barracks finds you.
His bed is empty.
It’s made up like he’d never slept in it, the sheets tucked in pristinely, and the comforter perfectly in place. He’s not in the bathroom either, the door cracked and the light turned off. You walk backwards out of his room, wondering if you had read the time wrong after all, or maybe if he’d just not gone to bed in the first place. You opt for Kyle’s room instead, hurrying to his door before opening it.
His bed is empty too, made up just as perfectly as John’s. You’re beginning to panic, your heart thudding faster than it had been before. Your shaky hands fumble with Johnny’s door across the hall, his room empty and more organized than you’ve ever seen it. You even check Simon’s room, a place you’ve never seen, a place you’ve never been in, but it’s empty too.
Simon’s clock tells you it’s too early for them to be up, too early for them to go to their training. They wouldn’t just leave you like that, would they? Not even a word or a goodbye? You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you stand in the middle of the hallway. Maybe there was an emergency. Did they say anything about doing training tonight? Maybe this is training, maybe they’re testing you and what you’ll do if they ever disappear. Maybe they want to know exactly what you experienced when they left you the first time.
You turn as the shuffling sound gets louder, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as you spot the figure standing at the end of the hallway. It’s dark, the lights at the end of the hall off. They’re never off, the lights in the barracks always on no matter what time it is. Tears sting your eyes as you stare at the shadowy figure at the end of the hall. You can’t see their face, you can’t tell who it is, but something in the back of your mind whispers that it’s not one of your packmates. There’s nothing familiar, no comforting warmth at the sight of them.
Fear nearly blinds you as the figure begins moving down the hall, the lights going out one by one as he gets closer and closer. You’re hyperventilating, your brain screaming to run, but your legs are frozen. You’re alone and there’s nothing you can do. You’re alone and about to die, or worse, and no one will know. It could be days before anyone finds you. The thought of your pack returning to find your mangled body has a sob tearing from your chest, your scream dying on your lips as the darkness finally reaches you.
You jolt awake with a gasp, your heart thudding violently in your chest. You’re shivering, not just from the terror still pulsing through you from the nightmare. The blankets are still pushed down to the end of the bed, leaving you naked and unprotected from the eternally cold barracks.
There’s a heavy weight against your pelvis keeping you from shifting your position, or even sitting up. The aching in your hips and lower back is starting to register as your brain becomes more and more aware of reality. A glance downward reveals your legs are still tossed over Kyle’s shoulders, the position you’d been in before you fell asleep. Kyle is asleep too, his face squished against your pelvis as he snores quietly.
A quick glance at the clock reveals it’s just past 2 AM, your breath catching in your throat. The dream had felt so real, the sensations, the feelings. You pinch yourself, the pain in your back and hips not enough to make you believe you really are awake and not stuck in some nightmare still.
“Kyle,” You whisper quietly, trying to shift, but the hold he has around your thighs is stopping you. “Kyle.” You say a little louder, shaking him gently.
He lets out a quiet grunt as he jerks awake, lifting his head from your pelvis. He smacks his lips, releasing one of your thighs to rub at his face. You immediately free that leg from his shoulder, groaning quietly as you straighten it out. The crack of your knee is loud, Kyle blinking blearily up at you as awareness slowly returns to his brain.
“I think we fell asleep.” You say quietly, still shivering from the cold and the terror remaining from your nightmare. You’re tempted to reach out and squeeze Kyle, just to ensure he’s really real, really here with you.
“Fuck,” He breathes, untangling himself from your body, pushing himself up onto his kees as you straighten out your other leg, sighing at the relief of finally being able to move and stretch your cramped body.
He moves from between your thighs, giving you more room to move and readjust yourself into a more comfortable position. You push yourself up higher against the pillows, sighing at the ache in your lower back.
“Pussy so good it knocked me out cold.” He grins, settling himself down next to you, his hand coming to rest on your stomach. “Fuck you’re freezing.” He frowns, finally noticing the subtle shivering of your body.
He pulls the blankets up, tucking both of you in before wrapping himself around you like a koala. You turn onto your side, tucking yourself into his hold. He lets out a hiss as your feet touch his legs, his arms tightening around you. You press your cheek to his chest, listening to the quiet, steady beat of his heart. A shiver runs down your spine as the nightmare replays in your mind, feeling just as real as it did when you first woke up.
You’re not entirely sure it didn’t happen.
You know it couldn’t have. You woke up in the same position you fell asleep in, legs thrown over Kyle’s shoulders, his head between your thighs. He’d laid there, lazily lapping at your folds after making you cum three times until you both drifted off from exhaustion. It might have been embarrassing, had it not been for the time Johnny fell asleep still inside you moments after his orgasm. You had been stuck under him until he inevitably rolled away, starfishing himself as best he could across the small bed.
“Kyle?” You whisper quietly, not wanting to wake him again if he’d already fallen back to sleep.
He grunts softly, likely half asleep.
“You wouldn’t leave me without telling me, right?” You ask, not sure if you’re going to get an intelligible answer in response.
He shifts just slightly, his arms tightening around you. “Of course not.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll always tell you, love. Wouldn’t just disappear without letting you know first.”
His words end in a yawn, but they offer a sense of comfort to you. You know you might not always have much notice ahead of time. Sometimes they don’t even get a lot of time between finding out about an assignment and when they have to leave. John had warned you about that, that they might have as little as an hour between. They’ll always make sure you know, though. They won’t just disappear into thin air without so much as a goodbye.
It might be their last.
You push that thought from your mind, squeezing your eyes shut as you breathe in Kyle’s scent, praying for your mind to go blank.
It’s like being around a wild animal. You’re not quite sure what to do. You’re afraid to move too quickly, to startle him. Despite the confession, despite your intimate moment on the couch in the rec room, you still feel like you’re dancing around him a bit. You’re not sure where the boundary lies now, what’s okay and what’s going too far.
He sits closer to you now. On the days where you sit between him and Johnny at breakfast, you’ve been close enough to brush arms with him. He stares at you more now too, but less in the way one stares at an annoying fly buzzing around the room, and more in the way one stares at a painting or at the TV when they watch their favorite sports team.
He walks slower now, side by side with you, close enough his hand brushes yours every so often. The thought has crossed your mind to reach out and take it just to see what he would do, but you’re not sure you could handle the rejection if he didn’t want it. You feel very much like you’re tiptoeing around him, afraid to push too far but unsure of where the line stands.
You could just ask him, but you’re afraid he might laugh at you, that he might think you’re stupid for just not knowing. He’s so intune to you. You saw proof of that in the lingerie store, and how he always knows when you get uncomfortable in the mess. You wish you could read him like that, that you could be as intune to him as he is to you. It might be his training, his years of developing the skills to be attentive to every detail, every scent, every emotion. Or maybe that’s just him. After years of living the way he did growing up, you’d imagine he’d be good at knowing when someone is upset versus when they’re not.
He could probably read you like an open book, and yet he’s like a locked safe in an armored vehicle. You’d sooner be able to see through concrete than you would be able to figure out Simon Riley.
“You have to put your feet there?” The low timbre of his voice cuts through your thoughts and you look up at him from where you’re laying on the couch.
He’s staring at you from his seat in the chair, book in hand. You’re laying on your back on the couch, your legs propped up over the arm with your feet right next to him. You could probably reach out and touch his shoulder with your toes if you tried.
“‘S comfy.” You say, going back to your own book.
It’s quiet in the barracks, just the two of you occupying the rec room. John had taken Johnny and Kyle out to do some kind of training or something. You had only been half listening to Simon as he entered the rec room and joined you in the quiet space.
“Well, they stink.” He says, pushing them away from his arm.
“They do not stink.” You say, moving your book aside as you pull your foot towards your nose to smell it. “Liar. My feet are perfect.” You move it back over the arm of the couch, putting it closer to him than it was before.
“Eh,” He stares at your feet for a moment. “I've seen better.”
You gawk at him, looking offended. “Who's?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Johnny’s.”
You pause for a moment, thinking back to all the times you've seen his feet. “You're right. He does have beautiful feet. How does he manage it?”
“He gets pedicures every few weeks.” Simon says, staring at his book. “Usually goes when we return from assignments too.”
You gape at him. “And he's never invited me?”
“Don't think he's gone since you got here.” Simon shrugs. “Kyle was the one to put him on it. They go together sometimes.”
You continue to stare at him, mouth hanging open in shock. You wouldn't have guessed it. Kyle, it made sense for him. He takes better care of his skin and body than even you do, but Johnny too?
“He likes the massaging part. Says it makes his skin extra soft and smooth.” Simon shrugs. You can imagine Johnny trying to convince Simon to tag along, but the mental image of the giant, imposing alpha in a nail salon nearly makes you laugh.
You shake your head, picking your book back up. “I mean, it makes sense, taking care of your feet. They're a vital part of your job.”
“I think they're gross.” He admits, turning the page in his book. “Especially when they're so close to me.”
“Hey, my feet are clean.” You say, poking his arm. “I wash them every time I shower, thank you, and I change my socks every day.”
He pushes your feet away from his arm, letting out a huff. “Keep your trotters away from me.”
“I was here first.” You say, moving them back close to his arm.
“You're such a child.” He says, setting his book down.
“I am not-” The last word cuts off in a shriek as he suddenly grabs your foot, tickling the bottom of it.
You giggle and shriek, trying to pry your foot from his hand, kicking out with the other. He catches both, tickling the bottoms of your feet. Your book drops as you twist and wiggle, tears gathering in your eyes from laughing.
“Okay, okay!” You say, managing to pull away from him and sit up properly on the couch. “You win.”
You pick your book back up, curling up against the arm of the couch as you try and catch your breath. You know he's storing the fact you're ticklish away for later, and had you looked up, you would have seen the slight crinkle at the sides of his eyes indicating the smile hidden beneath his mask.
“Something’s going on with those two.”
“Yer right. It's odd.” Johnny says, leaning against the sink in the bathroom. “They're so...comfortable.”
“Not one tensed muscle or nervous glance.” Kyle says leaning against the wall.
“She's sittin’ close tae him too.” Johnny says. “I think my plan worked.”
“The panties?” Kyle's brow raises. “There's no way a pair of panties changed things this much.”
“It's not just the skids. Tha’ was the push they needed.” He smirks. “They did the rest themselves.”
“I can't believe it.” Kyle shakes his head. “What if it's just a fluke? She was there first and he chose to sit there by chance?”
Johnny shakes his head. “Simon always sits in tha’ chair.”
“What if she was too nervous to move after he sat there.” Kyle argues.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out what they’re really feeling.” Johnny says, moving towards the door.
Kyle follows him out of the bathroom and into the rec room. You don't look up as they enter, Simon barely glancing over the top of his book before going back to reading. Kyle and Johnny share a look before they join you on the couch, Johnny taking the seat next to you.
“Have a good afternoon, kitten?” He asks, stretching his arm across the back of the couch behind you.
You nod, glancing up from your book. “Yeah, just been reading.
“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, staring at you. “That all?”
“Mhm.” You hum, continuing to read. “You can turn on the TV if you want.” You say, not even giving him the chance to ask the question.
Johnny turns away from you, glancing at Kyle before grabbing the remote off the coffee table. Kyle shrugs, settling into the couch as Johnny flips through channels. You and Simon continue to read, your body curled up against the arm of the couch, closer to Simon despite Johnny’s arm still draped nearly across your shoulders.
A small smile tugs at Johnny’s lips, a pleased aura nearly radiating off of him. Normally you would be sitting as far from Simon as you could, and you would have leaned into Johnny as soon as he sat next to you. Now you’re sitting as close as you can to Simon, and staying that way. Johnny’s not even upset by you unintentionally ignoring him.
He’s just happy his plan worked.
It’s not just existing around Simon that has changed since his confession and your moment in the rec room. Training has also changed. Things feel different, stranger between the two of you. Despite the partial lowering of the barrier, it feels as if there’s a thicker one between you. Is he dancing around you as much as you are dancing around him? Are both of you fumbling to find where the new barrier lies? The thought is comforting, that he might be struggling with this as much as you are.
He avoids touching you as much as possible during training, only adjusting your stance when necessary. You haven’t done much on the floor either, instead his focus is on working on your kicks and punches again.
He’s as stone-faced as usual, the tenseness back in his body as you throw punches at the bag. Your knuckles hurt and you’re quickly getting tired between the lack of sleep due to your nightly activities with the other members of your pack, your nightmares, and also the thousands of thoughts causing turmoil in your mind. You just want to know where you stand, you just want to know where that boundary lies. You just want him to talk to you.
You’re tempted to throw a punch at him just to get him to do something.
You take a step back from the bag, taking a breath. You want to confront him, ask him every burning question in your mind in a place where it is less likely someone will walk in and see you or overhear. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand this, how much longer you can do this dance before you lose it. You need to know, you need to place that boundary somewhere so you can stop worrying.
“You’re in your head again.” Simon says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “That’s going to get you hurt someday.”
“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to be in my head so much if you’d just talk to me.” You snap, starting to get frustrated.
He shifts on his feet, his shoulders tensing just slightly. Your words and obvious frustration striking something within him.
“I just...I need to know what we are...where we stand,” You continue. “I need to know what we’re doing, what’s okay. I feel like I’m just tiptoeing and dancing around you and I can’t stand it.”
He shifts on his feet again, staring at you blankly. You need him to say something, anything. It’s not often he’s been quiet, speechless when you’ve confronted him. You know you’ve put him in a place like you did in the rec room, cornered him in a vulnerable position. You also know that’s where he’s most uncomfortable.
“I...I don’t know.” He says, obviously scrambling for words, for something to answer you with.
“Well, it would be nice if you figured it out, because you’re stressing me out here.” You sigh exasperatedly. “I just...don’t want to make you uncomfortable or do something that’s going to ruin things.”
“I don’t think you could do that.” He says, shifting on his feet again.
You blink at him in surprise, not expecting that to be his answer. “I-I don’t-”
All thought of moving or defending yourself is out the window as he moves, knocking your feet out from under you and sending you sprawling on your back. He’s on you instantly, pinning you against the floor. Your breath leaves your lungs as you suddenly find yourself face to face with him, close enough to see the shades of brown in his eyes.
“Do you know how long you’ve been teasing me, torturing me? How badly I’ve wanted to touch, to feel, to get a taste for myself?” His face lowers towards yours, and you’re certain if he hadn’t been wearing the mask, you could have felt his breath on your lips. “Weeks I’ve been forced to sit and listen to you with the others, wishing it could be me, wishing I could have that with you without the risk of breaking you, of ruining everything.”
“You’re not going to break me.” You say quietly, trying to reassure him like you did during your chat in the rec room. “I’m not made of glass.”
“I can’t...I can’t risk ruining things for everyone.” He shakes his head, pulling back just slightly.
“What makes you so sure you will? Have you even considered the fact that I want you too? I’ve been waiting for this for so long. Hell, I would be happy if you just wanted to be my friend. I’ve been trying so hard for weeks just for your approval. I never even thought...” You shake your head. “I never even thought you’d feel like this about me. I thought you hated me for so long.”
He’s silent for a moment, staring down at you, his eyes searching yours. “I tried to. I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t.” He lets out a long breath. “It’s not fair to either of us, it’s not fair to the rest of the pack if we keep doing this. It’s fucking us up, I’m fucking us up. I can’t focus anymore. I damn near killed Johnny when I caught your scent on him after you fucked him before training.”
Your face warms at his words. Of course he’d smelled like you, of course they knew what he was up to. “Well, it’s more like he fucked me... It was his idea.” You shrug.
“Christ.” He breathes, his eyes darkening just a little.
“You don’t have to hold back anymore.” You say. “I-I’m sorry I never noticed, I didn’t figure it out sooner.”
“Wasn’t your fault.” He murmurs, leaning in close again. “My own damn fault for being so stubborn.”
“You don’t have to be anymore.” You breathe. “It’s never too late to start.”
You stare up at him as he hovers over you, chests brushing with every inhale. You’ve been this close before, been in this position before, but it’s never felt quite like this. The intensity between you is greater, not just a test of your will, of your strength when it comes to resisting an alpha’s imposing energy anymore. You don’t want to fight him, you’ve never wanted to fight him in this position. It makes sense now, every time he’s forced you out of that headspace during these moments hadn’t just been to keep you focused on training.
He’s been holding himself back.
“I won’t be gentle.” He says, his voice rumbling through you. His words are honest, spoken in truth. You can see it in his eyes, silently conveying the reality if you decide to continue. It’s a warning, a chance to turn back. He’s offering himself up raw and unfiltered.
“Maybe I don’t want you to be.” You counter, eyes fluttering as you stare up at him. “I don’t need tenderness, someone to comfort me, to pick up the pieces. I’ll go to John if I need that. Maybe I just want you to be yourself.”
A low growl rumbles in his chest at your words, his eyes darkening as he stares down into your shining ones. The back of your neck prickles as the energy shifts, the tension between the two of you coming to a head as the wall keeping the two of you apart begins to crumble.
“I’m not made of glass.” You say, snaking an arm around his neck, his eyes dropping to where your teeth sink into your lip. “Maybe I want someone to be a little rough with me.”
Another growl rumbles in his chest as he leans down even further. You automatically submit to him, tilting your head and bearing your throat to him as you’ve done so many times before in this position. He doesn’t stop you this time, doesn’t force you to turn away as he sinks down completely, pressing his face into the side of your neck. He breathes in deeply, taking in your scent from the source for the first time since your arrival on base.
His breath is warm through his mask as he exhales deeply, his body going lax as he practically squishes you into the mat. It’s not uncomfortable, the heavy weight of him a welcome sensation. It feels like a protective barrier against the world, a comfort knowing he’d keep you safe from any physical threat that might pose itself to you.
That is the difference between the two alphas. John can keep you safe from the horrors in your mind, offer you a comfort only your alpha can as he eases your fear and anxiety. Simon offers a protection against the physical, not that John doesn’t as well, but it feels different between the two of them. John would stand between you and a gun, while Simon would run headfirst towards the person wielding it towards you without a second thought.
Simon shifts just slightly, pulling away from you enough to reach up towards his mask. Your heart stutters in your chest for a moment at the thought of him taking it off, allowing you in enough to see his face. You’re nowhere near that close yet, you know that logically, but the idea excites you.
He tugs his mask up over his nose before pressing back into your throat, his hand slipping under your back to press you tighter against him. A shiver runs down your spine as his skin presses against yours, warm and slightly sweaty from training. You don’t care as he inhales deeply, taking in your scent unfiltered. His exhale is warm and shaky against your skin, his lips slightly chapped as they brush the side of your neck.
Something twists in your stomach as he drags his lips across your skin. Your hand lifts to cup the back of his head, pressing his face further into your neck. You don’t care if you suffocate him, and he doesn’t seem to care either as his body shifts just enough for him to press his thigh between yours.
Your breath shudders as he mouths at your neck, his tongue dragging across your scent gland. Your hips push up against his thigh in response, the friction igniting a fire in your veins. A quiet moan slips through your lips as he drags his teeth across your scent gland, your hips pressing harder against his thigh.
“Fuck.” He breathes against your skin, his hand dropping to grip your hip as you grind against his thigh, your body feeling electric from his touch.
Your head is spinning, your entire body alight with energy as he finally lets go, as he finally loosens that hold he’s been throttling himself with. The sensation of him is nearly overwhelming. His touch, his scent, the knowledge that it’s him. You’d let him fuck you right here in the training room, right on this mat, if he wanted to. You’re already wet, soaking into your panties as you grind against his thigh, his muscles tensing under his sweatpants. You're certain there’s going to be a wet spot against the fabric, something that can’t be explained away by training.
The thought of him finally wearing your scent thrills you.
His hand holds your hip, guiding your movements as you work yourself up. It would be perfect, him giving you your first orgasm just like this. Fully clothed in the training room, the place where your relationship has been tested, where the boundaries have been pushed the most.
Alas, you’re not so lucky. You’re never that lucky.
Both of you freeze as his phone alarm begins to go off, signaling the end of training. It forces you both back into the real world, the electric feeling beginning to fade as the moment ends and the mood in the room shifts. Simon lets out a sigh against your throat, slowly releasing your body as he pushes himself up onto his knees. His eyes are still dark as he stares down at you, your face sweaty, hair sticking to your skin as you lay there on the mat, probably looking absolutely ruined already.
You stare at his skin, the only part of him you’ve ever seen before. You’ve tried to imagine what he might look like, trying to piece together the rest of his face from what you’ve seen.
“We’ll continue this later.” He rasps, tugging his mask back down before pushing himself up to go silence his phone.
You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. You never thought it would feel like that, like straight energy coursing through you. He’d barely touched you and you could have cum from that alone had you been given a couple more minutes. His promise of continuing things later has a thrill running through you, a promise of this new relationship building between you.
Simon walks you to the mess, your face still warm from what had happened in the training room. His arm snakes around your back, his hand on your hip as he leads you to the line, his fingers tightening their hold on you every time someone passes too close. They all stare at you, all giving you looks. You can only imagine the smell, imagine what’s going through their heads.
They all know. They think you fucked him before coming to breakfast.
It wouldn't be the first time you walked in smelling like sex and a member of your pack. It’s just the first time it’s been him.
Your pack eyes you both as you and Simon take your seats at the table, you sitting yourself between Simon and Johnny again.
“Bit late today.” Kyle says, giving you both a look.
“Training ran long.” Simon says, pushing his mask back up over his mouth. Your scent flares a bit as you think about what those lips had felt like on your skin.
John eyes you both, all of them obviously picking up on the change. “I’m sure it did. Did you have a good time?”
“Would have been even better if we’d had a few more minutes.” You shrug, trying to hide your burning face in your porridge.
“Your punctuality has finally worked against you, Simon.” John says.
The alpha shrugs. “Didn’t want a grumpy, hungry omega on my hands.”
“I’m not grumpy when I’m hungry.” You pout. All four pairs of eyes at the table turn to look at you. “Okay, maybe a little.” You admit, spooning a heaping mouthful of porridge into your mouth, hoping the topic of conversation at the table changes so you can cool off just a bit.
Your face is still slightly warm as John walks you back to the barracks. He’s quiet as he leads you across the courtyard, and for a moment you’re worried he’s jealous, or perhaps upset that you’ve taken interest in another alpha besides him. He wouldn’t feel that way. Simon is part of the pack. It’s perfectly natural for you to feel a connection with him. It’s perfectly natural for you both to want to progress your relationship. Plenty of omegas take multiple alphas in a pack. Hell, many of them are claimed by more than just one.
“I’m happy you and Simon have finally worked things out.” He says as you stop in front of your door.
You turn to look up at him, a soft look in his eyes as he stares down at you. “About time, right?”
He chuckles quietly. “Yes, Johnny and Kyle were going to lock you two in a closet soon if things didn’t start developing.”
Your face warms again just a little. “Well, it is thanks to Johnny that we got here.”
“Yes, the skull-print underwear.” John says, smirking slightly. Of course he knows about that. Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut. He probably gave them all a detailed description of what happened at the lingerie store. “I much prefer those pink lacy ones myself.”
Your brows lift as you stare up at him. “What, these ones?” You tug the waistband of your exercise pants down just enough to show the pink lace against your skin.
A low growl leaves John’s lips as he stares down at them, his body crowding you against the door. “Yes, those ones exactly.”
Your breathing quickens as you stare up at him, your underwear still uncomfortably damp from your little tryst in the training room that had forced Simon to leave you high and dry. How no one else had tried to approach the table from the smell of horny omega you had been projecting through the entire mess is a mystery to you. Then again, perhaps it was your pack that had kept you safe. The threat they posed was enough for all the alphas in the room to resist the scent of your slick leaking into your panties.
You wonder how many of them got up to sniff the bench you sat on after you vacated the mess, pressing their faces against the plastic in an attempt to satiate the effect you had on all of them. How torturous it must be, knowing they’ll never have you. An omega right in front of them and their desperation, but they can only look, as the threat of dismemberment is not worth the risk of trying to touch.
The thought has your stomach clenching, more slick dribbling out of you.
“Got you all worked up, didn’t he?” John murmurs, pressing his face against your throat and inhaling. “Fuck, that’s a mixture someone could get drunk off of.”
The alarm on his watch begins to go off, and you half expect him to pull away, to leave you high and dry too, but instead he presses closer to you, his lips blazing a path up the side of your neck.
“Don’t you have training?” You ask, your voice trembling as he nips at your jaw.
“I’m in charge.” He says, pulling away to turn the alarm off before he grabs the waistband of your pants, tugging them down around your knees. “They can wait.”
He spins you around, pinning your body against your door. You can feel him, hard in his cargo pants as he presses up against you, his breath hot against your ear. He drags his hips against your ass, the line of his cock brushing against the thin material of your panties.
“I’ve got more important things to see to.” He growls, slipping his hand down the front of your body to cup your dripping pussy through the lacy pink panties.
You should have known. You should have known things were too perfect, working out too well. Something always happens, something always ruins it. Something always comes between you, right as things begin to work themselves out, right as you begin to get comfortable.
“I’m leaving.”
You blink up at him, the words barely processing in your mind. “Huh?”
“I’ve got orders, shipping out within the hour.” Simon says, almost too casually.
It is casual to him, though. This is a normal event, part of his existence, part of his normal life.
“The others?” You ask, the words trailing off but you don’t need to finish the question.
“Just me.” He says, crossing the hall to open the door to his room. You follow, feeling like you’re wading through sand.
It almost feels sacrilegious, getting a peek into his room, into his personal space like this. You’ve never seen inside, the few times you’ve walked by as he’s exiting, you’ve averted your gaze, almost afraid to try and look, to see inside his most vulnerable area. The space where he gets to be himself.
Even now you find yourself looking away, turning your gaze down the hallway towards the door. The door he’s going to walk through and disappear for an unknown amount of time.
“How long?” You ask, fighting the urge to look as he moves past the door.
“Don’t know.” He answers, his voice slightly muffled as he stands behind the door, likely grabbing things out of his dresser. “However long it takes.”
You swallow thickly. Of course this is happening now. Of course he’s leaving right when things are starting to happen between the two of you, right when you’ve started to get closer, when he’s starting to allow you in. What will happen when he returns? Will things go back to the way they were before, or will they continue as they are now? What if he changes his mind with some distance, with a chance to clear his head?
What if he doesn’t come back?
Your teary gaze snaps to him as he steps back out into the hall, closing his door behind him. You want to beg him not to go, drop to your knees and convince him to stay with you. He’d never do something like that. He’d never give up his job, no matter what you said, no matter what happened. He’ll always be a loyal soldier over everything.
Even you.
“I’ll be back,” He says, tossing his pack over his shoulder. “Then we can talk.”
You stare up into his eyes, furiously blinking back the tears threatening to fall. “Okay.” The word is so small and broken sounding. You shouldn’t feel this way. He’s not even your alpha.
He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment, hesitating just briefly before he straightens up, heading down the hallway. You hold your breath as you watch him go, his figure blurring as the tears continue to well up. You should tell him, you should run after him and confess, confess to everything. You should hug him, hold him just one more time because you might never get a chance to again.
Your shoes squeak as you race down the hall, throwing the door open. The rain bites at your skin as you run out into it, the weather a perfect metaphor for how you’re feeling inside.
“Simon!” You shout his name, hoping he can hear you over the rain.
He turns back around to face you, both of you standing there in the rain, staring at each other. It’s soaking through your clothes, your hair sticking to your face. You can barely see him, your eyes squinting from the water dripping into them.
This would be the perfect moment, the scene when you run towards each other and collide in the middle in a passionate kiss that speaks of weeks of longing and desire finally being released. No matter how badly you want to run up to him and kiss him, you know you can’t. You want to shout at him, tell him you love him, that you don’t want him to go. You want to confess everything, let all the walls down and beg him to stay, to leave this life behind and run off with you somewhere safer, somewhere there’s no threat of him not coming back.
You wish you could see his face, you wish you could read his thoughts, know exactly what he’s feeling right now. Does he feel the same, or are you a fly buzzing around him again?
“Be careful,” You shout over the sound of the pouring rain, the things you want to say fading to the back of your mind. When he comes back, if he comes back, you’ll tell him. You’ll tell him everything. “And come home safe.”
He stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Always.”
You turn back to the barracks, your shoes crunching on the wet gravel. Your steps are slow, your body still feeling like it’s wading through sand. You turn back, looking over your shoulder one last time at his retreating form slowly disappearing into the heavy rainfall.
Johnny is standing in the doorway as you turn back around, holding it open. You approach it slowly, feeling like the wet, miserable rat you probably resemble. You’re glad for the rain soaking through your clothes and your hair, glad for the droplets streaking down your skin hiding the burning tears sliding down your cheeks.
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#task force 141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#Simon ghost Riley x reader#Simon Riley x reader#John price x reader#captain price x reader#John soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#Kyle gaz Garrick x reader#gaz x reader#a/b/o#omegaverse#alpha/beta/omega dynamics
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wrote this so fast if it’s messy .. shhhh… no it’s not🌀🌀🌀
imagine toji finding out he has a thing for praise. it wouldn’t get somewhere downstairs up and going, but it would make his heart race a little faster and his cheeks a little warmer.
he would realize on such a random day too. it would be around midday, just after you put megumi down for his after lunch nap. it was a hassle trying to get the tiny one year old to sleep when all he wanted to do was bang his plastic cubes together and watch some kids show you refuse to even mention.
after what felt like hours to you but in reality was just a few minutes, you would come back downstairs to see toji halfway done with the dishes.
he wanted to be useful to you, make your life a little easier instead of leaving all the shit to you and watching his game.
“huh, didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you joked, bumping your hip against his. you picked up one of the dishes laid out on the dish towel, it was pristine, you shot a sideways glance to toji. “good boy, ‘ji.” you patted his back before slipping away.
toji didn’t even have a witty remark to respond to you. it was like all the gears and circuits in his brain just suddenly decided to stop working simultaneously. he knew you were just joking, yet the sound of your voice calling him a good boy echoed in his mind like a broken record.
you started to catch on after that, he wasn’t good at hiding his reactions as he thought. you found any reason to give him subtle praises, whenever it was when he was holding megumi, mumbling how good of a father he was or when he was working out and you’d loudly exclaim how he’s so good at lifting weights.
it didn’t matter to him because it all affected him the same way. and eventually he started looking forward to hearing you praise him, though he tried to be slick about it.
but, it took him even longer to fully come to terms with it. after a mission that took an entire day where toji sluggishly came through the door. to his surprise, you were still up despite how late it was. the low murmurs of the tv broke the still silence, you both just stared at each other before your arms stretched out, beckoning him over.
he didn’t think twice to be in your arms, laying on your chest as you petted his hair.
“you did good, ‘ji. y’know i’m proud of you, right?” there’s that fuzzy feeling coming back. his eyes staring up at you through his shaggy bangs.
“why do you keep doing that?”
“doing what?”
“complimenting me ‘n shit.”
you chuckled, which only made his eyebrows furrow and his lips curl into a frown.
“do you hate it?” toji didn’t really have a response to that. as much as he hated to admit it, he liked it more than you think. when you say it out loud or pat him on his back that reassures him that whatever he’s doing is right, he all reacts the same way: feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.
“i don’t.”
you pressed a kiss onto his forehead, “that’s what i thought, you deserve to know it.” you whisper against his forehead, he can feel your cheeky grin forming against him. “i always knew you had a praise kink.”
“don’t fuckin’ call it that.”
#★ ! fics#literally want to give him the biggest hug#UGH toji the man u are#toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji fushigro x reader#toji fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk fanfic#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jjk toji#toji fluff#jjk fluff
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Ultimate masterlist!
Boy groups
Girl groups
Misc. groups
Solo artists
#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#kpop fluff#kpop reacts#kpop reactions#kpop angst#bts#exo#seventeen#pentagon#twice#red velvet#exid#pristin
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style pit stop | max verstappen
pairing: max verstappen x reader summary: Max lets you dress him up for a change, showing off a new look at the paddock author´s note: first story with Max, and you have no idea how much I enjoyed it! I've been wanting to write for him for a while, and well, I loved the result and hope you do too.
It started as a casual comment during breakfast in our hotel room, the sun pouring through the windows, illuminating the crisp white sheets of our bed. Max and I were preparing for the upcoming race weekend, and the atmosphere was light, filled with the excitement that always accompanied a race.
“Max, I swear your entire closet is just Red Bull jackets, white T-shirts, and jeans. Nothing else,” I said, leaning over the table, eyeing his typical outfit of the day.
“I happen to think I’ve got a classic style. Simple and effective.” Max raised an eyebrow, feigning offense.
“Simple is an understatement. I mean, even AlphaTauri has given you all this fancy stuff to try, and you just let it sit there. Have you even worn half of it?” I rolled my eyes playfully.
“What am I supposed to do with half of that? Wear it to a race? You’d just laugh.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee
“Of course I’d laugh!” I retorted, grinning. “But I’d also help you look better. Bet you wouldn’t let me dress you for one day, then. Try something different.”
“Fine. I’ll take your bet. But if anyone laughs, you’re paying for dinner.” Max chuckled, clearly intrigued.
Within minutes, I was rummaging through his suitcase, pulling out the neglected AlphaTauri clothes he claimed were “too much effort” to style. I held up a pristine white button-up and slim-fit black trousers, a sleek gray turtleneck, and a pair of black boots that had clearly never seen the light of day.
“Look at this! You could rock this outfit!” I said, holding the turtleneck against his chest.
Max gave me a skeptical look as he reluctantly pulled it on, but I couldn't help grinning as he finally stood up. The way it hugged his frame was… honestly, distracting.
“It feels kind of tight.” He turned to the mirror, tugging at the sleeves.
“It’s supposed to fit” I insisted, smirking. “Now, for the trousers.”
Max fumbled a bit with the slim black pants, grumbling as he zipped them up.
“I look like I’m about to go to some fancy dinner” he complained, though I could see he was beginning to enjoy the attention.
“Exactly the point” I replied, holding up the leather boots. “And these. They’ll add a bit of height too.”
He scoffed but slipped them on anyway, taking a few exaggerated steps around the room like he was testing new racing boots.
“Happy now?”
“Very” I replied, snapping a quick photo. “Now let’s get to the paddock before you change your mind.”
The reaction at the paddock was priceless. As soon as we stepped in, Lando spotted us and nearly choked on his coffee, doing a double-take.
“Wait, Max… are you actually dressed up? Did y/n have a part in this?”
“Blame her” Max said, giving me a mock glare.
“Mate, I didn’t even know you owned a turtleneck. You look like you’re about to do a TED Talk.” Lando circled him, taking in the outfit.
“Or go to a very exclusive dinner,” Pierre teased, coming up next to us, flashing me a grin. “Nice work, y/n. About time someone taught him some style.”
“Alright, you’ve all had your fun. Can we please get back to normal now?” Max rolled his eyes, giving me a helpless look.
“Oh, no way,” I laughed, linking my arm with his. “You’re keeping it on all day. And just think, you’re setting new fashion standards for the grid.”
As we entered the Red Bull hospitality, the reactions came in waves: team members did double takes, fans gasped, and then there was Checo, who took one look at Max and immediately burst into laughter.
“Dios mío, Max! I didn’t even recognize you,” Checo said, giving me a grin. “So, y/n finally got her way?”
“Finally?” I echoed, pretending to be offended. “Please, Checo. It wasn’t even that hard. A little style goes a long way.”
Christian strolled over, eyebrows raised as he took in Max’s look.
“Well, well, Max, didn’t know you had it in you,” he joked, clapping Max on the back. “AlphaTauri’s sales will skyrocket after today. You could be their new poster boy.”
“Honestly, I think we should get her to dress all the drivers. Just imagine how well AlphaTauri would sell with these outfits!” Checo chimed in, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“I’ll dress all of you if you want. Just wait until I’m done with Max.” I laughed, joining in the fun.
“You’re all too easily impressed. But maybe y/n should take her fashion skills elsewhere and help Checo. He could use the help.” Max smirked, glancing at me
“Oh no, Max, you’re on your own with this one. Besides, I doubt I could pull off the ‘turtleneck model’ look as well as you.” Checo raised his hands in defence, shaking his head with a laugh.
I snickered, nudging Checo playfully.
“Are you sure? I was thinking I could start dressing you and Max in matching outfits. You know, really take this team bonding to the next level.”
Max chuckled, draping an arm around my shoulders.
“You hear that, Checo? Get ready. Y/N’s got big plans for you, too.”
“If this turns into some kind of Red Bull makeover challenge, I’m blaming both of you.” Christian couldn’t contain his laughter, shaking his head.
Checo leaned in, stage-whispering to me.
“Just don’t get me in that turtleneck, okay? I have a reputation to keep.”
“Noted” I replied with a wink. “But we’ll see what I can do.”
By the time we reached the main area, I was wearing his oversized Red Bull jacket, practically swimming in it, while he strutted around in his AlphaTauri ensemble.
Fans caught on quickly, cameras flashing as they captured the two of us walking arm in arm, with Max.
“Look, there’s your fan club” I teased, nudging him playfully as we passed a group of fans eagerly pointing their cameras at him.
Max smirked, leaning down to whisper.
“I bet they wish I’d dress like this all the time.”
We reached his garage, and one of the engineers gave him an approving nod.
“You clean up well, Verstappen” he commented, giving me a grin. “And y/n, you’re pulling off the Red Bull look better than he does.”
“Unbelievable. I get roasted in my own team garage?” Max pretended to be offended.
“You’re the one who agreed to this!” I teased, nudging him as we walked further inside.
He shook his head, pulling me closer. “Just remember this next time you’re insisting I need more ‘style.’ I went through a whole day looking like some model just to prove you wrong.”
“Oh, please” I laughed, leaning into him. “Admit it—you loved it.”
Max grinned, brushing a quick kiss to my temple. “Maybe. But only because I have you to make it fun.”
#f1#formula 1#fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 one shot#f1 2024#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen#max verstappen fic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#formula one#max verstappen x you#max verstappen angst#max verstappen one shot#mv1 fanfic#mv1#mv1 x reader#mv1 fic#mv1 imagine#mv1 x you#f1 imagines#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#checo perez
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Of Our Own Devices
For @erisweekofficial Day 1: Bargains
Pairing: Reader x Eris
Summary: Desperate to reunite with Lucien since his exile to Spring, you find yourself paying an unexpected price to his older brother.
Warnings: some mentions of death & injury, swearing, spitfire reader and a cunty eris. <3
Word Count: 3.2k
Part Two
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
The storm had rolled in with frightening speed.
It was one of the rarer, powerful storms of Autumn. The type that caused the sky to turn to charcoal, produced lightning that illuminated the canopy of fall leaves and made them seem like flickering, live fires.
You stumbled into the dimly lit cabin, drenched from the rain that had come pouring down in sheets. The cabin was one you had never seen before— a hidden refuge of Eris’s that you weren't aware existed. Despite its small size, it was surprisingly beautiful, furnished with deep, velvety fabrics. Eris had pulled you into the home without a word.
Crossing your arms across your chest, you turned to him, watching as he shed his outer layer and hung it on a hook near the door. He moved to the cold, empty fireplace next, and with a flick of his fingers, he summoned a flame from his hand. The flame danced briefly in his palm before he extended it toward the blackened wood in the hearth.
Seconds later, a crackling sound filled the room, bringing the fire to life and filling the space with a warm, golden glow. Eris watched the flames for a moment. Then he stood up, facing you once more.
"You promised me I'd be in Spring by tonight," you said.
Eris tsked, brushing past you as he sat himself on a velvet, red couch. His scent lingered in the air—a smoky, strong aroma. A shiver ran through your body. You attributed the reaction to the influence of the rain on your warm skin.
He didn't bother to meet your eye as he responded. "I promised no such thing. I said I'd take you to Spring tonight."
"Then take me."
He raised a brow and for a moment, you almost expected him to make a childlike comment, a brutish joke about the sentiment those words could hold outside of the context. But he didn't. His eyes, however, told you that he was thinking about it. It was unnerving, how you could read him so well, how years at Lucien's side had come with an unexpected consequence: becoming familiar with his brothers, too.
"It's a storm. Winnowing is risky in this weather," he said smoothly, voice as cool as ever. "I’m not risking both our lives just because you're impatient."
The wind howled outside the cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as you took a deep breath— in through your nose, out through your mouth. The eldest Vanserra noticed the frustration immediately, and your efforts to calm yourself dissipated as a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
“I’m not staying here,” you snapped. “I’ll walk if I have to.”
At first glance, the couch appeared almost pristine, but as the firelight grew and you paid closer attention, you could make out traces of dark grey, black, and brown hairs—the hair of his hounds. The detail settled somewhere inside you. You weren't sure where.
“If you do that, you’ll either die of exposure or run into my father’s men. Either way, not a great plan.”
You froze, your hands tightening around the fabric of your cloak as you grasped your arms, fingernails digging into the material. “So my options are to stay here with you or die?”
He shrugged lazily, but the motion still held a sense of regality to it, an eerily elegant form. It made you even angrier.
“Seems so," he said, a smile forming on his lips. It was as warm and genuine as a snake’s kiss, much like the disarming charm you had come to expect from Eris.
You'd never spent this long with him alone, never needed to manage his calculated gaze or purposely chosen words without the buffer of Lucien. You would've gladly gone your entire immortal life without doing so. But you missed Lucien— your heart ached without him, longed to be near him, to have his laugh echo in your ears. And this was the only way to be with him again, even for a few days.
And Eris knew that. He knew it all. You assumed it was why he bothered to take you in the first place. It gave him the pleasure of knowing he had power– control.
Your blood boiled.
“Are you enjoying this?” You stormed toward him, standing over the couch as he stretched, clearly unbothered by the storm—or your anger. “Trapping me here, knowing I have no choice.”
“Trapping you?” He laughed softly, sitting up slightly to meet your gaze. “You came to me, Vixen. If you want to go, the door’s right there.”
The sound of the wind howling through the trees outside made his offer ring hollow. You struggled to rummage through your thoughts, through the anger, frustration, and disgust that he managed to stir in you.
The stupid, stupid nickname was all you could focus on, now. Memories of a younger you flooded your senses, memories of a younger Eris, one much less rigid, much more open, almost. An Eris you crushed on. You'd never admit the truth to anyone— that the reason you and Lucien had become so close, despite your natural connection, was because once upon a time, he was glued to his older brothers hip. And so you'd glued yourself to Lucien's.
Eventually, the years evened things out, and your feelings flowed from the eldest Vanserra to the kindest one. To Lucien.
Lucien. Your mind reminded you. This was for Lucien. Don't piss Eris off, don't ruin your chances at seeing him again. Don't engage—
"Stop calling me that, you arrogant prick."
Your hands dropped to your sides, instinctively curling into fists as Eris peered at you with a burning, amused stare. His amber eyes gleamed like a predator toying with its prey.
"I see Lucien's absence has impacted your ability to maintain that temper. Those breathing exercises not working well for you?"
Something twisted deep in your gut.
"Now that I think about it, I think I'll take my chances with the storm."
Before you could make a move to leave, Eris was standing, his chest now inches away from you as he peered down at you. You didn't move, then, only straightened your shoulders and met his gaze.
Eris wasn’t the beefy, broad-shouldered type that other males in the court might have been. He didn’t have large, bulging muscles meant to intimidate. Instead, he was a lean kind of strong, with a pointed nose and sharp features that cut through the dim light of the cabin. He exuded a different kind of intimidation, one that stemmed from his inherent authority and the staunchness of his posture. He carried himself like a prince—elegant and commanding, every inch of him a testament to his future role.
Beron was merely keeping the throne warm until Eris was ready to claim it for himself.
"We both know you're not going to do that."
You tightened your fists further. "And why not?"
"Because you aren't stupid, Y/n."
Eris cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied your face with a cold, calculating gaze. His features were sharp and chiseled, the faintest freckles dotting his high cheekbones.
"You're not going to risk losing your chance to see Lucien."
He leaned down and his breath fanned your face, warm and mingling with the scent of cedar and smoke. His eyes danced across your face, moving from holding your gaze to traveling further down, lingering on your lips—on the scowl you wore on them—before he met your eyes again. The fire's flames grew larger, consuming the oxygen in the air that had already seemed to be thinning.
You said nothing as he continued, "Uncurl those fists, take that soaked cloak off, and wait. "
You stayed quiet, taking a deep breath before you stepped to the side, purposefully brushing your shoulder against his broad chest as you moved. Despite your urge to resist him out of spite, you reluctantly removed your cloak and tossed it on the clean floor of the cabin.
Eris scoffed. "Really? Must you act like a child?"
The floorboards cracked as he walked and, faintly, he mumbled something about how his hounds were better mannered. Eris picked up your cloak, dusting it off with a gentle hand before hanging it up next to his own.
"I'm curious," he began, glancing over his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. "Does Lucien know?"
You glared at him. You were growing tired now, the exhaustion of the trip slowly growing deep in your bones.
"What are you talking about?"
Eris smirked, his gaze lingering on you with a knowing glint as he settled back on the couch. "I'm talking about how you're in love with my sweet, sweet little brother."
You stiffened, a wave of emotion crashing over you—cold and awakening, a nauseating mix of embarrassment and fury.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Eris's face remained insufferably composed, a cocky grin playing at his lips. His eyes gleamed with a self-satisfied spark.
"No need to lie. It's just us two here," he purred. "I've always enjoyed how honest we can be with one another. It's why I preferred you over Jesminda."
A sharp, uncontrollable heat seared through every nerve in your body, a wave of anger surging like a wildfire.
"Keep her name out of your mouth."
It felt like a disgrace to have him say it, to hear her name immortalized on the tongue of the brother that allowed her to die. The brother that had killed her, according to Lucien. His sobs still echoed in your mind, the image of a broken male etched into your memory. You'd had only five minutes with him before he fled, five minutes of frenzied packing, desperate promises, and anguished confessions of what his father—and his brothers—had done.
Eris's gaze lingered as he analyzed you.
A beat passed.
Then another.
You were beginning to feel naked, as if he had stripped you of every defense you'd managed to muster around him. You turned away, unable to bear the weight of his stare any longer.
"I didn't kill her. I didn’t help.”
Your face went slack, caught off guard and momentarily confused. You pulled yourself together quickly, straightening your back, hoping he hadn’t noticed your reaction. As you turned a little, your face almost sad now, you could’ve sworn you saw something in his eyes—something akin to regret, maybe even compassion.
Your voice was low, not bothering to hide the sadness, mourning, the raw anger, as you responded.
“I don’t believe you.”
The trace of care in his gaze vanished as he shrugged, the same indifferent gesture he’d made earlier. “Have I ever lied to you?”
You stared at him, taking him in with the same analyzing gaze he'd offered you.
It was strange how alike he and Lucien looked, how alike yet so different all the same. But the longer you stared, the more you began to feel stuck— hypnotized, tempted to walk closer to him, to ask him what it was that went on in his mind, what caused those flickers of emotions you couldn't name across his face.
But another moment passed, and all you could see was a male who Lucien hated, a male who was selfish, who reveled in the pain caused by chaos. Your mind drifted to other rumors and stories you’d heard about him. You settled on one in particular.
"You left an innocent female to die in the woods because she didn't want to mary you. Butchering your brother's lover doesn't seem outside of your past-times."
A cold shift washed over Eris’s face. His disinterested expression hardened into a mask of disappointment, then flared into a simmering anger. It was a contained fury, like a finely tuned flame.
"Don't tell me you believe the lies of Night Court trash. Surely you're smarter than that. I know you are."
"Fuck you," you snarled. "You know nothing about me. I'm not going to let you play some twisted mind games with me. I'm not a doll."
He shook his head. "You are not."
A beat. Then a smirk grew on his lips. "But you are just as pretty as one, if we're still being honest. You're wasted in your one-sided love, Y/n."
You said nothing, turning to walk to the other side of the cabin. The corner held a bookshelf with carefully arranged volumes, a finely crafted wooden table, and a collection of artifacts on the windowsill.
Eris just laughed behind you, a sound so smooth and soothing that it felt sinful against your skin.
You resisted the temptation to snoop, to explore the cabin and bask in the rare vulnerability of the brother who had always captivated you in the most wretched of ways. It felt strange seeing him like this—relaxed, almost at ease— as if simply crossing the threshold of this modest cabin had stripped away the invisible chains and burdens only a prince could bear.
You stayed still and stared out the window, focusing on the sounds of the storm. You hoped that the rain would drown out the sounds of his breathing— sounds that rang too loud in your mind. You didn't want to know why he seemed to do that, why he lingered so deeply in your head.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
The storm raged on for a few more hours.
The time was spent in tense silence—at least for you. Eris remained on the couch, reading through a novel about the history of the continent. You would've never thought him to enjoy such a thing, to want to know about those outside of his court, of mortals, humans, no less.
And when the rain finally stopped, he rose wordlessly. With a brief gesture toward your cloak, he led you out, winnowing you the rest of the way in silence.
When you finally reached the border of Spring, a wave of relief washed over you.
The vibrant greens of the new season were almost blinding after the gloom of the storm. You took a step forward, eager to escape the tension that had gripped you for hours. You'd be with Lucien soon, be able to hug him, to tell him of all the things he'd missed in your life since his exile.
But before you could move any further, Eris's hand closed around your arm. You turned to him with a glare, meeting his glowing gaze and infuriatingly calm smile.
“Are we forgetting payment?”
You strengthened your glare, gritting your teeth before you pulled yourself out of his grasp, reaching for the small bag hidden within your layers.
Eris stopped you with a casual wave. “I don’t want your money.”
You stiffened, straightening your posture. The sounds of Spring echoed behind you, their vibrant melodies almost taunting as you lingered on the border. Eris’s smile shifted into a smirk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that made you swallow instinctively.
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.”
You thought back to how he had offered to take you to Lucien, how this entire arrangement had been his idea. You should've held back, should've been more wary of his motives. But you'd been too excited, been too blinded by the joy of being with Lucien once more.
“What do you want, Eris?”
He took a moment to take you in fully, eyes scanning you from head to toe, and then he took a small step back.
“A bargain,” he finally said.
“A bargain?”
He nodded. “You will not tell Lucien it was me who brought you here.”
You frowned, a crease forming between your brows as you blinked at the male before you. Perhaps you'd heard him wrong. “What?”
“If he asks, you’ll say you bought off a hunter in Autumn, a mercenary. Whatever you’d like,” Eris continued.
You drew your brows tighter.
“I thought you'd want to revel in the fact that he might somehow owe you. Prove your power, even."
Eris shrugged nonchalantly. “Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you’d like to think.”
He extended his hand, his palm open and the gleam of his ring-clad fingers catching the light. You hesitated for a moment, body still stiff with unease, with confusion.
You scanned his face. Eris loved played games. This was no different. There was no point in reading into it. So you rolled your eyes and prepared to shake on it, reaching for his hand. He pulled it slightly out of reach.
“What now?” You groaned.
He hummed in amusement.
“And when I come to get you to return to Autumn, I want your help.”
You raised a brow. “My help?” you asked, incredulously. "How the hell would I ever be able to help you?"
Your family had no title, no powers beyond a tame ability to fight and heal. You survived in Autumn because you were ordinary—and ordinary meant no one looked for you. Noticed you.
“I want to call in a favor,” he clarified.
“What favor?"
"We'll see," Eris said with a smile and a tilt of his head. “I think you could help me out dearly."
You let his words settle for a moment. His eyes, glistening with a dangerous glow, seemed to hold something predatory, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There must've been an underlying threat in his proposition, something sinister you had yet to notice. After all, he was a male known for his ruthlessness—
You stiffened.
He was a male. There was one easy way for males to assert their dominance, to gain pleasure, to accept payment.
You took a step back instinctively and Eris’s gaze tracked your movement before returning to meet your eyes. A shadow flickered in his eyes, reminiscent of the dark, unsettlingly soft gleam you’d seen in his cabin when he first glimpsed your saddened expression. Seconds later, his face shifted to one of mild amusement. He rolled his eyes with an empty chuckle.
“Settle yourself, Y/n. Not that kind of favor. I can bed females without resorting to bargaining for their affections,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension.
A flush of embarrassment crept up your cheeks. You looked to the ground for a moment, taking a deep breath as you regained your composure. When you finally met his gaze again, he was already extending his hand towards you once more.
“A favor in the future in exchange for this time with Lucien,” he purred smoothly. “And your silence. Consider it our little secret.”
The smirk that grew on his lips was maddening and you could feel the heat of his gaze, the flickering fire of his amber eyes urging you to comply. Every instinct told you that binding yourself to him was a terrible idea.
You glanced back over your shoulder, looking to the green, sunny expanse behind you. Lucien was there, somewhere amongst the greenery, and with a simple bargain you'd be with him again.
Without a second thought, you turned back to Eris and took his hand.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
happy eris week yall!!! rising from the dead specifically to post this lol, i fear i love this pairing so lets see if i decide i wanna write anything else for them. thank you for reading!! (i miss writing so so so much)
i might make this into a miniseries, so lmk if you’d like
to be tagged <3
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@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg
@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters
@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot
@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog
@melissat1254
@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire
#eris x reader#eris vanserra x reader#erisweek2024#👑first time participating in an event bc i love my cunty king#eris vanserra x you#eris vanserra#acotar x you#acotar x reader#acotar#eris acotar#eris x you#eris x y/n#autumn court#eris fanfic#eris imagine#acosf#eris vanserra acotar#eris vanserra fic#acotar fandom#pro eris vanserra#high lord eris#autumn court heir
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