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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 4 days

Note

Yandere batfam or justice league with a reader who’s afraid of strong people/men due to a past abusive relationship? She never wants to feel that powerless and weak again so she actively avoids interacting with anyone stronger, bigger, taller any more than necessary. She doesn’t hold it against other ppl she just has a lot of trauma that she’d rather not work through and feel safe in her little bubble

Hit me Hard and Soft

Synopsis: You get saved by Robin, but not everything is as it seems.

Pairing: Yandere!Poly!Romantic!Batboys X Gn!Reader

Tw: All characters aged up, of course; Mentions and descriptions of violence, including physical, psychological, sexual and financial abuse, and Damian fighting criminals (I'm particularly proud of the action scene I wrote); Drugging and being unconscious; Mentions of death of minor characters and suicide; Mentions of past grooming (Reader's ex) and age gap (Reader’s ex, Reader X Bruce, and the batboys age is not mentioned); Implied stalking; Mentions of kidnapping; Reader's very traumatized and weary of everyone; Reader doesn't trust the police; Mention of a panic attack and descriptions of actual panic; Guns and knifes; Mention of cigarettes; Implied needles; English isn't my 1st language.

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Wish I had more interactions between Reader and the batboys here, but I'm more than willing to make a part 2 with the right idea.

General masterlist

He's back again. You wish you could say you didn't know why he always came back, but you did. The food wasn't that great and it wasn't that close to where he told you he worked or lived. It also didn't help that he always made sure to be served by you. And that he flirted with you.

— Evening, (N/N)! Is there something as sweet as you on today’s menu? — You gave a small and polite laugh.

— Strawberry pie… As always…

It was kinda sad, but mostly scary. If it wasn't for your ex, you would be thrilled to have gotten the attention of Dick fucking Grayson. The whole city knew he was handsome, rich, talented and charismatic. Gotham's sweetheart, Gotham's golden boy. And from your daily interactions, he lived up to the expectations. He was polite even when flirting with you and asking you out. Yet, something held you back.

— Nice! Since you get out in a few, why don't you bring in two slices? One for me and one for you, it's on me, of course. — You shook your head quickly, with an empty heart, just wanting to get away from him as fast as possible.

You were with your ex since you were 17 to 26. Almost 10 years wasted on a dirtbag. He convinced you to leave your friends, to leave your family, to leave your job. As soon as you started living together, you were completely dependent on him. Sometimes you blamed him, sometimes yourself, sometimes the people you had around you, but back then, where you came from, people weren't questioning the imbalance of powers between a 17 year old highschooler with no job and a 23 year old man with a steady job and living alone.

He convinced you that going to college and ending your relationship was the worst decision you could take. Then, that you didn't need your family, he could take care of you. One day, he decided you couldn't have friends.

He often locked you inside the house, cursed your skills and appearance, neglected your overall health, intimidated you, screamed at you, broke your things that he did and didn't pay for. He hurt you physically, even sexually. You knew both dating him and leaving him was hard, you just expected living with the scars was going to be easier.

And it was! You decided to run away from him and to Gotham when you received the news that your mom died and he didn't even want to let you go to the funeral. The grieving made you reflexive and you realized how shitty your situation was. For years you just thought that it would eventually get better, that you just needed to be strong, that he showed he loved you when he wasn't being an asshole, that you couldn't get anything better, that he made you feel special.

You couldn't even go to the police, he was a cop, you knew the chances that in any scenario you would lose. So you ran.

You knew it was dangerous, but you had nothing to lose. If he didn't kill you, you would do it yourself. You made a plan, drugged him, took some of his money, used his house keys, left everything behind for the second time in your life. You didn't waste time asking for help from the people you knew. You took the bus and went as far away as you could.

Your paranoia was so bad that for almost a year, you would settle in a city, work to save up enough, and leave again, rinse and repeat. Eventually, Gotham seemed big and far enough to go by unnoticed.

Or that's what you thought, until Dick Grayson stopped by the diner you worked to have breakfast before going to work, as a cop, and decided you caught his attention.

Since then, he came back everyday. Either breakfast, lunch, dinner, or just to hang out with some family member, usually one of his brothers, his dad appeared with him sometimes too. Your boss loved the attention Bruce and Tim attracted, the two most media active ones, since they both led Wayne Enterprises.

Eventually, even them started appearing multiple times a week. You thought you were healing, until you found yourself crying for almost four hours at home in a panic attack.

You didn't want their attention. Not only was it weird, but they were just so… Superior to you.

They were all taller, more muscular, faster, smarter, richer. It was like reliving the beginning of your relationship at 17, plus 10 times worse. Five because they were five people mirroring your ex, and more five just because of your trauma, experience, negativity and lack of naiveness.

Also, why were they ALL into you??? And they were aware of it! It was weird! Why??

Bruce Wayne was disarmingly charming in his dilf way. Dick was surprisingly accessible. Jason was soft spoken despite his resting bitch face and leather jacket. Tim was cute in a nerdy way. Damian almost made you laugh with his sarcastic humor.

Either way, you never wanted to feel as little as you felt before, so you just did your job, acted polite, but ultimately kept your distance.

Freedom has its difficulties, one of them being that you need money, and for money, you need a job, which means sometimes you have to stay until closing time, at 11 PM, in Gotham.

You're not the only employee to stay so late, but you and your co-worker live in opposite directions, so walking alone it is. They're taking the bus, but you only live two blocks away, so you gulp down your anxiety and keep walking. One hand on your pocket, holding your taser firmly, and keeping your head up, turning to look at every sound.

It's cold, and the street is empty and dimly lit. Some places are so dark that you wonder why you're even paying taxes if the streetlamps won't work.

Two men turn the corner a few meters in front of you, one at least a foot taller, the other, two inches max. They're wearing hoodies and their hands are on their pockets, the light behind them creates a shadow that doesn't allow you to see their faces, nor where they're looking at, but they are coming in your direction.

There's a car, parked between you both. Some people might think at this point it's just paranoia, but you’ve heard stories of people walking next to cars, getting pulled inside by someone who was hiding in there, and getting kidnapped.

Your first instinct is flight, so you turn around, ready to run, even if you look weird in case those guys weren't planning to do anything with you, just to see other two guys emerging from the other corner, those two almost as tall as that first guy. Aside from the smaller one, they're all broad, even with their thick clothes covering them.

One of them has a cigarette on his mouth, which he throws on the ground when you turn your attention to him. Your fear might have caused you to hallucinate, but you're almost sure he's smirking.

You freeze for a second, your only escape is to run to the side, and pray their long legs don't get to you first. You think you hear one of them start hollering at you.

You only take a step to the side, when a loud crash startles you so hard that you have to look behind, while walking backwards to the street. You take a second to process the sight.

Robin is standing in the middle, just a few steps behind where you were standing a second ago. He's at least half a foot taller than all of them, and a lot broader. He's holding the tall one by his neck with his right hand, repeatedly hitting his head against the car’s window.

You're shell shocked, torn between staying put to watch this disaster, as interesting as a car crash, or running away. Gotham is so big that you never thought you would encounter one of its heroes, you weren't sure if you even wanted to.

When the guy seems to stop moving, Robin throws him against one of the other tall ones, the guy practically flies across 2 meters before hitting him, and when he does, they both fall to the ground. You remember all the times when your ex pushed you to the ground.

Your eyes are wide, horrified, watching the shortest guy take a pocket knife out of his pocket. Your throat locks, even if you want to scream for Robin to turn around, you only manage to stare and stay in place, however, the vigilant turns halfway around just in time to grab the guy by his wrist and his arm, just as he launched to stab him. He uses his body’s impulse to push the guy forward, the knife going to the fourth guy's shoulder, you hadn't even seen him get so close to him.

You look at the man from the car, he's still unconscious, the one who got tackled with him, however, is already standing and walking to the fight.

Everything’s happening too fast, you turn to the side to see the guy with the knife on his back on the ground, groaning and twitching in pain, while Robin is punching the shit out of the other guy, movements faster than you could ever dream of achieving. You remember being on the receiving end of someone's fists before.

With a final elbow to the cheek, the guy stumbles to the ground, you don't know what level of consciousness he’s in, by his posture before, you knew he was already compromised since the first hits he took.

Robin doesn't move, doesn't even turn to look at the guy who just fell, he's just looking forward, and when you notice this, you look at the remaining guy.

He's pointing a gun at him.

You don't think you can watch someone get shot in front of you, and you know if he gets rid of Robin, it's over for you. Logically, you knew these vigilantes somehow never die, still, it's counterintuitive to think he won't.

And he doesn't, in the blink of an eye, Robin's on the air, his right boot kicking the gun away, while still on the air, he wraps his legs around the guy's head, bends backwards, puts his hands on the ground, then launches his whole body to the front, the guy getting thrown over him. He falls to the ground, Robin stands on top of him with perfect balance. You don't even have time to process what just happened, the coolest and scariest thing you saw your whole life, when Robin punches him one last time. Now, he's definitely unconscious.

You’ve felt like a bystander this whole interaction, it felt like ages, but in reality all of this couldn't have taken more than 20 seconds, maybe even less than 15. You don't know what to do now. You're theoretically safe, but Robin’s still too big, too strong, too fast. He knocked out four guys without getting touched a single time. He broke a car's window. He threw around two guys who weighed at least 80kg. He's not even panting. And now he's looking at you.

A whimper gets stuck in your throat. You don't know if you should thank him, stay silent, or yell at him to stay away from you. When he takes a step in your direction, your instincts get the better of you and you turn around, running.

You hear him call your name, although your brain doesn't process it. You see headlights and look towards it. It's a car. You don't trust you’ll get help, but at least you're not alone. You run in it's direction, waving your arms and screaming bloody murder.

The car almost hits you, but you don’t process that until the last minute, but you get tackled to the ground just in time by the hero from before. You scream again, he's too close. Now, he's trying to hold you down. You keep screaming and trying to escape. You look to the side and the car just kept driving away, likely the driver wouldn't stay behind to be another victim to Robin's hands. You know you're not being rational right now, those guys are known for helping people, he just saved you, he's still trying to stop you from getting hurt, but you're scared. You've been scared since you were a teenager.

Your eyes burn, your arms and throat hurt, but adrenaline doesn't let you feel anything. Not even the invasion of a needle on your side.

— Was it really necessary? — Tim deadpans Damian, who growls.

— You would have done the same, Drake.

— No, I wouldn't. You were supposed to use the psychological first aid approach and (Y/N) would've calmed down and trust us more in the future. But of course, you never use your brain. — Damian growls, stepping towards Tim, but he is stopped by Dick’s hand resting on his chest.

— Damian, calm down, Tim’s right. You knew better than to sedate them. You knew of (Y/N)’s trauma and you knew the route we wanted to take. — Damian's brows furrowed and he crossed his arms.

— I knew your feelings toward (Y/N) would make you become impulsive again. — Tim looked at Bruce, who was silent, with hands intertwined and elbows on the table, focused on your vitals on the screen and the sight of you laid on the bed on the medbay. — Will you now consider just letting you, me and Dick keep an eye on them during patrol? — Damian and Jason scoffed.

— Why you aiming at me now? It was the demon who gave that guy brain death! — Jason protested and Tim looked at him.

— Just to be sure you won't freak out like him and kill thrice as many people, on purpose this time. — Jason glared at him.

— B, you better add more security measures around (Y/N), before Timbo tries to clone them or something. — He muttered with snark.

Dick shook his head and sighed, going to stand on Bruce's side, crossing his arms and looking at you through the camera with him.

— What's the plan now, B? They're probably waking up soon. — Bruce hummed, relaxing his stance and resting his back against his chair. The silence lingered for a few seconds, everyone just looking at you, waiting for the oldest’s opinion.

Bruce turned around, looking at them.

— … Damian, Tim's right. You were impulsive today and you killed someone, even if it was an accident. I stopped expecting that from you since you were 12, you're an adult now. You not only broke our trust, but (Y/N)’s already shattered trust. They need to know they're safe with us, and drugging them, instead of puting to use more time and effort to bring the comfort to them, is not going to do that. You weren't much different than the man who hurt them tonight. — His father's words were like a punch to Damian's stomach, leaving him speechless. Dick pursed his lips, not turning around as to make it easier to not comfort his brother just yet. Bruce turned to Tim. — Tim, I understand you want to take measures seriously. But you need to give Jason a chance. That was unasked for. — The mentioned blinked, still unacostummed with the treatment he received from his dad when he followed his rules. Tim looked away. Bruce turned to Damian again. — Damian, no patrolling around (Y/N) until you prove we can trust your temper again. — He waited for a confirmation, which came with a sneered lip.

— Yes, father.

Dick looked back a Bruce.

— What about (Y/N)? — He bit his lips. Bruce hummed, turning to look at the monitor again.

— … What do you all think?

— Well… Damian said their name, they might not remember it, but they can't just wake up at home. They’d try to flee from us. We could bring them home earlier, but our ideal plan was to make them come willingly, in the period of at least two years, in the best case. We could leave them at the hospital, and just keep our plan going. — Dick listed the possible strategies they could take. Bruce hummed.

Tim piped up.

— I already altered their phone's algorithm to send the job application as my assistant at Wayne Enterprises to them. And the Wayne Foundation’s application for the internship at Gotham Uni. — Bruce nodded.

— Damian? What do you understand about that? — It was clearly the beginning of his test.

— The more secure in their independence they feel, the easier it is to heal and open themselves up to new opportunities. — Damian exclaimed with confidence. Bruce nodded.

— Jason, are you still interested in college? — Everyone looked at Jason surprised, he was also surprised, he hadn't talked to Bruce about college since before he died.

It took a few seconds to processes what it would mean.

— Uh… I think so?! — Bruce nodded.

— What about me, father? — Damian spoke inquisitively. — I also want more opportunities to get closer to (Y/N)! — Bruce narrowed his eyes at him.

— We will think about that when you're in the clear.

— But-

— That's final. You reap what you sow. — Damian huffed and nodded begrudgingly. — … Now, since Robin was the one to save them, take the batmobile and leave them in the hospital. Then come straight back home. Understood? — Damian clenched his jaw and nodded silently, leaving to get your unconscious body.

Moments later, when you were both out, on the way to the hospital, Tim fiddled with the computer, the scream showed the batmobile’s tracker, your tracker, Damian's tracker, Damian's contact lenses’s camera and the car’s camera. They all looked at him.

— … It's just to make sure…

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nightlyrequiem · 1 month

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General and Relationship Headcanons

Mostly just me rambling about Valeria because she’s all I think about all day everyday <3

This is pretty unstructured

Valeria Garza was a mean girl in high school. She wasn’t popular by any means, she was just really mean and aggressive. She had a habit of getting into physical fights. She’d swing on anybody, boy or girl.

She’s a raging lesbian. (I don’t make the rules.) She probably hasn’t had many girlfriends though because Las Almas has a smaller, more traditional population. During her military days I can definitely see her hooking up with at least one of the other women in her unit, fraternization be damned. It ended when the woman didn’t want anything serious.

She had no romantic or sexual relations with Alejandro. I refuse to entertain the idea at all for my own sake.

I like to think she’s 5’6 to 5’7 and around 135lbs. Perhaps 140lbs. Shes around the same age as Alejandro and Rudy. You have to have around 22 years of experience to become a colonel, which Alejandro is, so that sets them around their late thirties to forties. I think Valeria sits at 38.

She has a short temper and not much patience. Especially with the men who work for her. (And men in general.) She feels pressured to make them afraid of her because since she’s a woman she knows they don’t respect her as much as they would a man. She’s not afraid to stab people in the back and she believes everyone is like that. Loyalty can be bought by the highest bidder so she’s always prepared for a betrayal.

The general public don’t know that she’s El Sin Nombre, and most of her own cartel are unaware as well. Only three or four get the privilege of knowing and even then she doesn’t trust them completely.

The cartel wasn’t as influential before she took it over. La Araña liked to do business under the table and out of sight if he could. Because of that, it was smaller. Still making bank but not as much as it could in Valeria’s opinion. She saw an opportunity to line her own pockets and make Las Almas just a little stronger. She used bribery, violence, and fear to her advantage. Killing and displaying anyone who got in her way and building important building to gain public support. All while hiding behind the Sicaria title.

She grew up poorer than the other children. Money is one of her biggest motivators. She was always envious of the other kids who got to go on trips or get new things often. She felt she was dealt a bad hand in life and it turned her bitter. Because she didn’t grow up with a lot of money I think she has spending guilt. She’ll splurge sometimes but she doesn’t own five fancy cars and a huge house. She probably has a smaller private property somewhere and conducts her business at Diego’s villa.

She’s an attractive woman, and she knows it. She’ll still put on a little makeup though. She’ll touch up her brows and put on mascara. She has no one to impress but she knows she’ll be taken more seriously if she’s perceived as attractive.

Valeria doesn’t do flings. Shes not some hopeless romantic, she doesn’t date around hoping to find the one. But, if she’s going to make herself vulnerable to another human being, physically or emotionally then she isn’t going to do it for someone who’s not going to appreciate it. The payoff needs to be worth the price. She learned her lesson.

She’s not the type to be soft and sweet in a relationship. She has her moments of course, but I can’t see her constantly calling you pet names and clinging to you. Her love language is acts of service. She’ll cook you food, bring you something to drink if you mention being thirsty, simple things she can do to make your life a little more convenient. If her you happen to be someone in her cartel she’ll show she cares by keeping a closer eye on you.

One of the men keeps making you uncomfortable? She’ll make sure you don’t have to interact with him. She’ll give you safer tasks and pay you a little more than the others. She might try to convince you to just quit all together. You’d be safer and happier tending to the home, she’s sure. She also just wants you to be financially dependent on her to make it harder to leave. Not that you’d want to. Shes a great girlfriend.

Just not during fights. She loves you but she has a nasty habit of blowing up at you. She’ll say things she knows will hurt you. There’s also the fact that she works a lot. She puts a lot of her time into the cartel. In keeping it going. You might feel lonely and neglected while with her.

She does love you. Even if she calls you replaceable she doesn’t mean it. If you get fed up and try to leave she’ll pull out the crocodile tears. It’s undignified, but she’s convincing enough with her promises to change and her woe-is-me act that you’d feel too guilty to leave.

If that doesn’t work she’ll turn to the only other thing she knows, threats of violence.

She also has jealously issues. She is territorial. She doesn’t make it obvious but she’s jealous of your friends. She doesn’t like your male friends even if you’re a lesbian yourself, and she views your female friends as potential competition regardless of their sexual orientation.

She won’t whine about it, but if you spend too much time with your friends she’ll take it out on you without telling you why. She’ll be snappy, give you the cold shoulder. Which ultimately leads into another fight. She doesn’t understand why you need friends. She doesn’t have friends and she’s fine.

She’ll make it up to you by buying you gifts. She’s not one to spend frivolously but she’ll drop a pretty penny on something if she thinks it will make you forgive her. You mentioned an article of clothing in a passing conversation five weeks ago? Well Valeria remembered and now it’s carefully folded up on the bed waiting for you. She sees a piece of jewellery that she knows you’ll like? It’s yours, but only if you forgive her.

Her favourite colour is pink. Her bedsheets are pink. Her nails are canonically pink. I don’t make the rules, her favourite colour is pink.

#valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza headcanons #cod mw2

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snixkers · 3 months

Text

Bailed Out

Pairing: Elle Greenaway × Fem!Reader

Fluff/Minor Angst

For: requst by @lez-talk1 and @imagining-in-the-margins Pride Challenge!!!

Content Warnings: Cursing, internalized homophobia/biphobia, canon level violence, no physical descriptors

Summary: Elle has a crush on you. Elle doesn't want to.

Author's Note: Gotta get my sapphic representation innnnn for Elle. Also, whoever requested this, I'm so sorry, it was lost in the comments. Enjoy!!!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

Elle Greenaway knew she was fucked.

She had been held hostage, shot, traumatized, and more in her years at the BAU. But by far, the worst thing was her crush on you.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with you. Your smile lit up a room, and your confidence made her feel better by association. But when she realized that the feelings were more than just a like, she began to realize some things about herself.

She had a crush on a girl. And she was a girl. Did that make her a lesbian? She wasn't big on labels, but it didn't make sense. She could flirt with men, find them attractive, be interested in them romantically. Could she do both?

Something about saying that she liked girls was scary. Not that she cared if other people did, but it was herself. She liked girls.

Maybe she was just jealous and dealing with issues after the Fisher King.

Easier to do that than actually mention anything to you.

Which worked well for a couple months, until those feelings started to get stronger. It was no longer that she liked a girl, she was in love with a girl. Which was a whole new can of worms she was not opening.

Every single time you two would get paired up on a case, she would stare longingly at you to the point where Hotch offered time off because he believed she was disassociating.

It was a stupid little crush, and it was getting out of hand. She had to do something about it sooner rather than later.

Elle, headstrong and unable to tackle her emotions properly, walked up to you after the majority of people had gone home and tapped on your back.

"Hey, can we talk?"

You spun around, and it nearly knocked her on her ass just how much you made her day better. All her previous ideas about asking you out or maybe accusing you of some type of witchcraft immediately dissipated.

"Um, do you need more coffee?"

You shook your head, putting in your headphones and turning back to your computer.

"All set."

"Yeah, no problem. Sorry for bothering you."

So Elle Greenaway, who had stared down killers and rapists, fled back to her desk with her tail between her legs.

The second time she tried to ask you out, it was during a movie that Garcia and Reid had dragged everyone along to. The seats were scattered for convenience, and some sick deity* had placed the two of you together.

*Garcia

She spent the entire movie nervously fidgeting, considering asking for another bathroom break before realizing you might think three meant she was having a medical episode.

So she sucked it up, basking in your sweet perfume and the high of sitting next to you. During the credits, you were both getting up when some sick deity** forced her to bump into you. You held onto her arms to steady yourself, and Elle did something incredibly stupid.

**not Garcia

She leaned forward and kissed you before promptly turning around and walking out of the theater.

The next week was tense and uncomfortable, but she made sure there wasn't any chance of another one-on-one.

She didn't try to ask you out a third time. After the movie theater disaster, why should she?

Clearly it wasn't meant to be. She had enough emotional baggage to fill the overhead bins of the BAU jet. It would be better to forget about the whole thing.

But you had different plans.

After a week of avoidance, you walked up to her desk with a purpose, and she immediately panicked. Before she could apologize profusely (since when did she apologize?), you had kissed her.

Oh.

"There, now we're even. But if you want to do me a favor, you could come get dinner with me tonight."

Oh.

"Um, sounds great. I'll just, uh, get my stuff."

Now she sounded like Reid. Dammit. She watched you walk away with a satisfied smile, sighing to herself.

Elle Greenaway liked girls. She liked you. She was getting used to it, but she could definitely get used to you.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #writers on tumblr #fanfic #reqs open #elle greenaway #elle greenaway x reader #wlw #pride challenge #mentioningmargins

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the-falling-star · 4 months

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Astrology observation

All about your north node and your future spouse

Part 2

we will be starting by speaking about North node in the 8th house since it's a Scorpio ruled house deep meaningful love is seen here however the longevity of married life it's going to depend on your and future spouse healthy habits attitude towards life, for example you and your future spouse should do healthy diet or start eating vegetarian food also doing physical activity together will make the bond between you two stronger your future spouse is going to be loaded, financially speaking you will have a decent life with them you may even get inheritance after they die since the north note is two houses after your 7th house so it represents the second house of your future spouse chart your future spouse is one of the people who worked very hard to get what they want in life they're beginning wasn't really great so maybe this is a sign that when you meet your future spouse he will have the story about transformation from poverty to richness, your in-laws will play significant role in your married life this can cause some troubles because everybody's going to be in your business. Before getting into a relationship with any person you should pay attention to what they are hiding the eighth house is all about secrets and I know people who had their north node in their eighth House and after getting a relationship with someone they figured out that at the same time they had another girlfriend or a child they're hiding Etc so you need to pay attention to ask questions before you get married. Also your future spouse could have relationship to politics or military or work in it. You could meet your future spouse while doing research on a specific subject(cult, stock market, lawns).

No let's talk about North node in your 10th house it is fourth houses from your 7th house which typically represent the fourth house in your future spouse chart and the fourth house is all about family the mother Homeland Etc so if future spouse is going to be family oriented person in some cases your mom will have a great relationship with either your future spouse or she will know the family if your future spouse already, your future spouse coul be working in their family business or maybe they took over their family, here's the twist the mother of your future spouse will have significant role in your marriage if their mother is present in their life you better know that they are their mommy child however if the mother is not present they will count on you acting like their mother they will search mother Love In you another thing this person could have a mom that is working hard since the day they were born and these kind of people will expect you to kind of be like their mom they want someone who wants to work and work hard if this is a woman you are looking for then this woman is counting on you working hard and if you are looking for men this man will want you to work hard ,they will want you to be independent, this person could live near you you may be me this person while you working , also the 10th house is relay is ruled naturally by Saturn so an older partner is seen of course if Saturn is not placed positively in your chart your future spouse could be younger than you however the way they think and the way they act is much older than their age.

Now if your north node is in the 12th house you could have this type of love story when you hate your future spouse at first and then you fall in love with them your future spouse could have bullied you first, the 12th house is sixth house away from the 7th house so it represent the sixth house in your future spouse chart and it's not normally ruled by the sign of Leo therefore ruled by the Sun, The 6th house represent enemies, warriors, diseases and Etc when I'm getting is that your future spouse could have been through a huge transformation in their life for example you know these people who like overweight and they work hard at the gym to become healthy or these people who felt a lot with certain disease and then they got out of it Victorious, your partner will get your back and frankly your future spouse could be your soulmate they are intuitive and emotional, however the 12th house is the house of Hidden enemies so at some point your future spouse can get really annoyed with you and they may keep their anger to themselves to the point where they will explode on you so maybe try to talk about problems and not bottle them up, because obviously you don't want to be in marriage that can mess with your mental health. Your future spouse could be wearing in the health sector , therapist, artist , Physic or a policeman a fireman I mean they supposedly working to keep people safe.

Part 1

Do not Copy or rewrite my shit without asking for my permission.

#astrology #the falling star #12th house #north node #10th house #8th house

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scmg11 · 3 months

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EMILY DICKINSON x READER

YOU CANNOT PUT A FIRE OUT

A/N: HELLO HELLOO! How are you guys doing? Missed me?

Enjoy this new chapter ❤️

Sending you love ❤️

Summary: Emily meets Y/N at the well one day and just falls in love for her. When she tries to find her again the next days, it seems like she just disappeared. She was ready to lose hope when one day she finds her in her house to start a job as her new maid with her aunt Maggie. What will happen then?

Warnings: just slightly groping, nothing too much explicit.

Word count: 15380 words.

The sun beamed all over the expanse of the Dickinson’s garden, warming up Emily’s face as she decided to spend her morning outside, leaning on her favorite three and just soaking up in the calmness that was the nature. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the tree’s trunk surface to take a few moments of quietness in, smiling widely when she heard a few birds chirping around her, setting a warm and fuzzy feeling in her chest that always put her in a good mood. "Emily!"

The brown haired girl sighed loudly at her moment being ruined and tried to drown the sound away, but she heard it again a few seconds later and inevitably opened her eyes and turned towards the source of the sound coming from her right side, right where her house was, "yes?" Emily had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes when her mother called her name once again, ignoring her answering to her calls and making her sit up and abandon her morning in the nature to go and see whatever she needed from her.

"Emily?! Emily?!" The brown haired girl scoffed under her breath on her way back to her house, she knew her mother had head her when she was leaning on the tree but called her over nonetheless and was keeping calling her despite seeing her walking over her house, "oh Emily, dear, you’re here."

"Yes mom, what did you need? I was enjoying my day out in nature."

"I am sure it can wait, honey. I need you to go fetch water."

"Why can’t Austin or Lavinia do it?"

As if on cue the blonde made her appearance from behind Emily’s mother with what Emily deemed her trademark adorable frown since they were kids, "I did it yesterday and Austin is a man. He can’t do it."

"Right, you would believe he would be perfect for it since men’s are always bragging about themselves being strong, stronger than women, when in fact they are staying all day behind a desk while women do all the physical, exhausting stuff."

"You’re talking nonsense sweetheart." Emily rolled her eyes right in her mother’s face and grabbed the two empty buckets she had in her hands and trudged begrudgingly outside her house to walk towards the well to go fetch water as her mother asked her to.

"Oh no, I’m so sorry! I should’ve watched where I was going! Oh no, your dress is completely drenched, here let me help you." In mere seconds Emily bumped accidentally into a girl carrying four buckets full of water, resulting in one of them spilling over her blu navy dress, but got also got flooded with a multitude of rushed words of regret and of apology, an adorable sight that made Emily forget about her dress being completely drenched in the late summer weather.

"Don’t worry, it’s totally fine. I wasn’t watching where I was going, I had my head elsewhere. So I should be the one apologizing." Emily smiled reassuringly at the distressed girl as she desperately tried to find something to dry Emily’s dress.

"No, no. It was my fault!"

Emily tried to look at the girl’s face but it was completely covered by her hair cascading in front of it as she had her head down in search of a cloth in her small apron’s pocket she had around her hips, "I insist on taking the blame. Hey, please stop worrying. It will dry up eventually, it’s not a big deal."

"No, no. It should be here. I had it here an hour ago!"

"Hey, please. Relax, take a deep breath." Emily tried to calm the girl down and for the first time she seemed to do listen to her, sighing loudly as she took her hands out of her apron’s pocket and lifted her head up slowly.

Emily felt like the world stopped existing for just a moment when her eyes met the girl’s ones, establishing a connection that send a thrill down her spine and that lighted up her whole body, a sensation she had never felt before. "Are you okay?"

Emily took her time to commit to memory every single feature on the girl’s face, from the perfect slope of her nose to the soft bump of her cheekbones, from the gentle but still defined angle of her jaw, to the smooth surface of her chin and finally focusing all her attention on the plumpness of her velvety lips. Emily almost got lost again in the vastness of the girl’s eyes when she met them again that she almost forgot to answer the girl’s question, making her appear a bit dumb in front of her for gawking at her, "yeah, yes. I’m fine. Totally fine. Great. Hm-." Emily cleared her throat to stop herself from embarrassing herself some more continued with a regained composure, "how about you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am fine. Thank you."

"Good, I’m glad to hear that." Emily smiled gently at the girl before shaking her head as if she was the dumbest person on earth, "I’m Emily by the way."

"Y/N." The girl smiled gently at the poet while putting a strand of hair that fell in front of her face behind her ear, a gesture that made Emily’s brain melt as she took in the girl’s beauty.

"Y/N." Emily repeated, testing the girl’s name out, feeling a warmth spreading throughout her entire body as the name rolled over her tongue. "I like it. Y/N. It’s a really pretty name."

"Thank you. Emily is a great name too."

"Yeah, it has a Latin origin, it-."

"It’s a Roman name. It means laborious and eager among other things." Y/N interjected the brunette before she could speak and Emily had never felt so infatuated by someone in so little time.

"Yeah, how do you know that?"

"I like reading a lot. I do it whenever I can." Emily didn’t know it could have been possibile being interested in someone in so very little time, but she was starting to feel something for this girl, something she had only felt for one person only before.

"I like that too, a lot. What are you reading right now?"

"I just finished reading ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ by Dickens. I liked it. What about you?"

"I am in the middle of reading The Divine Comedy by Dante. I’m halfway through Inferno."

"Oh I liked it a lot even though Purgatorio and Paradiso are just as beautiful. I mean his writing style gets more complex and more refined after each part."

Emily felt like she was floating through a new dimension where only Y/N and her existed, instigating a myriad of new emotions Emily never felt before that mixed with a few ones she only felt for Sue. "Wow, I-. I don’t know what to say. It’s the first time I hear someone talk about Dante’s amazing work without it being repeated from some stupid journalist’s review. No one really care to really read it. Or at least comprehend its real meaning behind his words."

"Because not everyone can see through what’s in front of them. There’s beauty hidden in every single thing we know, creating something new that just awaits to be discovered, studied. Most people just waits for someone else to do it." Y/N reasoned with a shrug, like she just didn’t made Emily fall madly in love with her brain.

"Wow- I- I feel like you had been in my mind and found a way to make it speak for itself. You-."

"Y/N! Are you ready to go?!" The poet got interrupted by a loud voice coming from behind Emily and when she turned around to look at who was yelling, she found a middle-aged woman with blonde hair styled in a perfect, classy bun, a blue dress with an apron on her front similar to Y/N’s one waving at her from the grocery’s shop a few feet from them.

"Sorry, I need to go. It was great talking with you Emily."

Emily felt her stomach drop at the aspect of having to part ways with Y/N, trying to find a way to prolong their time together. As she closed herself in her mind to think she didn’t notice Y/N refilling the bucket she unwillingly spilled over Emily and walked towards the woman, saluting Emily with a small nod. The gesture pulled Emily out of her thoughts and coming up empty-handed with ideas to make Y/N stay with her a bit longer, she could only sigh out loud, resigned but also completely smitten for the Y/H/C girl, before letting out softly, "the pleasure was all mine Y/N."

"Emily, where is the water?"

"What?" Emily got ripped out of her own thoughts full of the mysterious and intriguing Y/N by her mother as soon as she entered her house, her mother stopping her in their small hallway in front of the door and the living rooms before she could run upstairs and let her thoughts flow freely as she wrote a poem or two.

"The water Emily. I sent you fetching water an hour ago. Where is it?"

"Oh shit!" Emily just then noticed she came home empty-handed, she forgot her empty buckets at the well after her encounter with Y/N. "I forgot them at the well!"

"How?! You went there just for fetching water. How did you manage to forget that Emily?"

"I- I gotta go. Later!"

"Emily!"

"I don’t have time mom, I need to-." Emily got stopped mid-sentence and in her track towards her house’s door by her mother’s authoritative voice calling her from the living room.

"Emily! Come here, now."

"Mom, I have everything under control. I got distracted and I forgot the buckets there. I will be quick. I will go get them, fetch water and come back here." Emily explained quickly, hoping her mother wouldn’t be so much angry at herself for not doing what she asked her to do and getting ready for her scolding when she sighed out loud, pinched the bridge of her nose angrily and closed her eyes.

"It’s not that Emily. You are always avoiding doing chores, always complaining about them and never doing them in the end. It’s time for you to grow up. You will need to know how to be a proper housewife."

"But mom, I-."

"No buts." Emily’s mother ended their discussion with those final words spoken with authority and nodded at her daughter when she nodded dejected at her not winning this argument. "Since Lavinia is going to get a few groceries from the store and I’m going with her with the carriage, I’m going to go fetch water, while you’ll go into your room and think about what you did."

"Okay, mom. I’m so sorry." Emily’s mother smiled gently at her daughter for apologizing and laid a soft kiss on her forehead before she walked towards the stairs that would led to the first floor where the bedrooms were. She smiled apologetically at her mother once again but before she could go up the stairs and into her room to think and most importantly let her mind flow with writing her poems, she got stopped in her tracks.

"What is happening here?" Emily turned around at the sound of her father’s voice reaching her ears as he made his way into the living room after exiting his office, where he had been holed up the whole morning.

"Edward, your daughter Emily this morning was tasked to go fetch water and after disappearing for more than an hour, she also forgot our buckets at the well. Unbelievable!" Emily hung her head down in shame and closed her eyes to get herself ready for one of her father’s scoldings, not particularly thrilled on having her good mood ruined right now, but she had a feeling it was coming anyway as it was well due after her forgetting their buckets at the well.

"But also hilarious." Emily lifted her head up in shock after hearing her father’s words, not exactly expecting them, and widened her eyes comically. What was actually hilarious to Emily was her mother’s bewildered expression that stretched over her face as she stared in shock at her father. If she wasn’t already walking on thin ice, she would have laughed at her mother’s expression, so she kept quiet and listened to the conversation unfolding in front of her.

"Excuse me, dear, what?!"

"Oh c’mon, Mrs. Dickinson. You have to admit, it’s funny." Emily laughed nervously when her father started laughing loudly while looking at her mother then at her.

"But-." Emily bit on her bottom lip to prevent her smile to widen when her mother tried to reason with her father but he waved her off with a few chuckles still coming out of his lips.

"Oh, come on now Mrs. Dickinson. I know you want to laugh." Edward smiled at his wife and pointed his finger at the blonde woman, not putting it down until she saw a small grin making its way onto the woman’s lips, "ah there it is!"

"Oh dear, always finding a way to laugh! Anyway, I’m going with Lavinia to the grocery store and to retrieve our buckets to fetch water for dinner tonight."

"Great, I’m coming with you girls. I need to go to speak to Ronald about a really important matter I worked on this morning."

"Oh that’s wonderful, dear. Emily, why don’t you make it up to us by starting dinner?" Emily almost let her jaw drop down on the floor at her mother’s request. She knew she wasn’t a great cook, she hated cooking and something always ended up catching fire. But she also knew this was her mother’s way to tell her she wasn’t forgiven for the fetching water fiasco as her father made it sound and as much as she wanted to fight over it, she knew there wasn’t a way out of this. Oh, well it was worth a try.

"Mom, I don’t th-."

"Oh what a wonderful idea Mrs. Dickinson! I can’t wait to taste what you will prepare for us Emily! Let’s go now, we are gonna be late!"

Emily sighed dejected while making her way towards the kitchen to start up dinner and as she tried to not set the whole house on fire, she let her mind fill with the few memories she had of Y/N. She was fascinating, captivating, alluring. She piqued Emily’s interest with just a few words and when Y/N expressed her passion for books, ignited a fire in Emily that had been extinguished since she had broken things off with Sue. Could that mean something? Emily was sure she felt their souls connect in such a raw and deep way she had never experienced before, but would that be enough for Y/N as it was for her? As she started baking the freshly made loaf of bread, a sudden need to know if Y/N felt the same hit her and with a renewed determination she set her mind to try to encounter the Y/H/C girl the next morning.

"Good morning my dear mother." Emily entered the kitchen with a grin so bright they could have used it to light up the whole house at night, arousing suspects from her mother that stared at her warily as she watched her make her way towards her as she prepared their breakfast.

"Emily, good morning to you too. Did something happen that put you in a good mood?"

"Nothing in particular. I just woke up like this today. Do you need help? I still want to make it up to you again for yesterday. Maybe I can go fetch the water again? This time I will bring back the buckets, I promise." Emily tried to be as subtle as she could without making her mother ask the real reasons behind her intentions on wanting to go fetch water, finishing with a joke to sell it better.

"Oh sweety, what a wonderful idea. You can help me with putting everything in the living room. And don’t worry about fetching water, Vinnie already went this morning."

With her heart sinking down in her stomach, she reluctantly grabbed the tray full of their breakfast her mother already prepared to the living room, trudging a bit in her steps as she tried to think of another strategy to meet Y/N again.

"Emily can you please help me with dinner?"

"I can’t mom, I need to write. I don’t have time to help you with dinner or chores."

"Well, I am sure it can wait." Emily snorted under her breath at her mother’s rebuttal as she made her way into her room.

"No mom, it sadly can’t. When words flow out of me I can’t stop them or ask them to wait to help with chores."

"It’s worth a try, isn’t it? I need help Emily, Vinnie is setting the table after cleaning the house, so you’re the one who will help me. C’mon, it will be fun!"

"I’m sure it will, but I really can’t right now. It would be so much easier if we get a housemaid to help you out."

"You are talking nonsense Emily, I am perfectly capable of doing it all by myself and with the help of my daughters everything can be done faster, so now please come down with me and help me out. You will write later." Emily sighed out as she let her pencil fall down on her desk, the soft clinking sound of the pencil hitting the wooden surface of her desk calmed Emily just a little, making a quick grin appear on her lips before a small frown took its place. The poet sat up slowly from her desk, placing both of her hands on it to slowly stand up, the screeching sound of the chair moving back filling the sudden silent room as her mother watched her movements with rapt attention.

"I will help you for just a bit, but I can’t take too long on helping you with chores because I’m really trying to finish a poem."

"That’s the spirit! C’mon honey, I will show you how to make the perfect roasted chicken that will make you the perfect housewife every gentleman would love to marry."

More like gentlewoman. Emily added in her mind and as soon as that thought came into her mind, Y/N appeared right after as she smiled lovingly at her. That instantly made Emily stop in her tracks on the stairs, watching blankly her mother’s back as she descended the stairs and rambled about roasted chicken Emily wasn’t interested in listening at the moment. What made Emily freeze in her spot was the fact that for the first time since she could remember she didn’t imagine marrying Sue. She imagined Y/N. And that thought excited her to no end, instead of scaring her. "Shit." Emily sighed dopily as she smiled with her eyes full of love as another image of Y/N waving at her entered her mind.

"Emily, hurry up!" Emily let her dumb smile linger a few more seconds on her features before shaking her head and resuming her way down the stairs to join her mother in the kitchen and help her with their dinner.

"We should hire a maid to help mom out in the house."

"What?"

"We should hire a maid to help mom out in the house."

"I heard you the first time dear, I was just shocked by the request." Edward smiled gently at her daughter repeating herself before going back to being serious as he regarded her with a curious look in his features. "Why should we hire a maid? Your mother is perfectly capable of doing a good job here."

"Ah- a great job dear! I told you this earlier Emily. We don’t need a maid."

"But it would be so much easier for you. For all of us! She would help mom with chores so she doesn’t tire herself out every single day. And she would do a lot of things mom asks me or Vinnie to do. C’mon dad, think about it!"

"Well-."

"Edward you are not seriously considering it, aren’t you?"

"Honey, she is not completely wrong. She would help you out, you know I hate how much tired you are at the end of the day."

They kept discussing it for a few more minutes as they enjoyed their dinner but when the dessert came, her mother served it in an unsettling silence so they moved onto a new subject Emily wasn’t interested in listening. As she ate her dessert she couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on her mother a few times and observed her as she stayed quiet for the rest of the dinner with a sad expression on her features. Despite her mother not taking assuming a maid to help her too well, Emily was sure she will come around eventually. Emily knew she was asking to hire a maid to have more time to write but she also really wanted her to help her mother and ease her load of work to do in the house.

"Good morning dear family."

"Good morning to you too Edward." Emily’s mother smiled widely at her husband as she finished serving everybody’s breakfast before her grin got ten times wider and brighter when Edward leaned over and kissed her gently.

"Hm, I can smell so many delicious things today." Emily watched as her father sat down in his chair and brought up his newspaper to read the news, his smile never dampening.

"I can see you are in a good mood this morning, dear."

"Because I am."

"I’m glad to hear that, honey."

"How is my family doing this morning?" Edward brought his newspaper down after reading a few paragraphs of the first news and took a sip of his tea, then moving onto taking a bite of her wife’s famous scones, humming in satisfaction at the taste.

"I am good dad, I just finished reading an article about financial management that I found pretty interesting." Austin was the first to speak up after taking a sip of his own tea, smiling at his father as he did so when he nodded at him in understanding.

"And what about my girls?"

"Last night I finished sewing a pillow for my cat, he loves it!" Lavinia announced with a bright grin, her enthusiasm filling the room as everyone at the table smiled at the ecstatic blonde.

"I finished a few poems I was working on."

"That’s great guys, I see everyone is proud of their achievements! But now let’s move on why I am in a good mood today. There is a reason and that said reason is- after considering it for the last few days, I decided that we will hire a maid to help in the house!"

"What?!" Everyone exclaimed at the table at the same time with excited tones, except for Mrs. Dickinson, who looked at her husband like he went completely nuts.

"Yeah!" Edward smiled alongside his son and daughters, not noticing her wife’s expression yet, "I thought about it and in the end it was a really great idea Emily!"

"I’m so happy to hear that dad!"

"Honey, why are you doing this?" Mrs. Dickinson finally found her voice to speak up and asked in a strained tone the first thing that came up in her hazed mind still shocked from the news Edward delivered.

"Oh dear, it will be good for the house and for you. You tire yourself up too much for this house."

"But- I’m fine."

"I know you want to make it look like it, but I know some days are really stressful. I see how spent you are after those days at night. I’m doing this for you too!" Edward explained calmly as he enjoyed his breakfast, his good mood still on.

"Yeah, I can be a little tired, but a great night of sleep sweeps it all away and restores my energy back."

"I am sure of that, but it will good! We can do more small trips or spend days differently when I am not working and you’re not thinking about doing any kind of chore in the house."

"Yeah, mom, it will be good for everyone here, you’ll see!" Austin butted in with a cheerful tone and nodded at her mother still looking worried and skeptic.

"Yeah mom, you can finally focus on yourself a bit more." Lavinia then decided to add her thoughts too, trying to encourage her mother on relaxing on this topic, although she knew it was a sore spot since she always aspired to be a great housewife and having a maid restrained her from doing that in her mind.

"Mom, think about it, you can find a new hobby with the extra free time you will have!" It was Emily this time that spoke up, encouraging her mother with a brighter-than-the-sun grin that unfortunately her mother didn’t reciprocate as she stayed frozen in her chair with her eyebrows furrowed together and a sad expression on her features.

"See? The kids have all good points!" Edward looked at his wife with a wide grin, nodding at her encouragingly, "anyway, the decision is already made. They are coming here tonight."

"They?" Emily wanted to snort under her breath at the outraged tone her mother used to pose the question to her father, but decided to stay still for once and enjoy the show in front of her.

"Yeah, two of them. One of my dearest friends is moving to Minnesota and he doesn’t need his maids anymore since he won’t take them with him, so they are coming here. He told me they are the best maids in Amherst. An Irish woman and her niece."

"That’s so exciting!" Lavinia exclaimed as she clapped her hands enthusiastically, making Emily and Austin smile fondly at her.

"Ah, good evening! Come inside please!"

"Good evening Mr. Dickinson." Emily could hear from downstairs his father greeting guests at the door but she shrugged and went back to her poem, but for some reason her attention shifted back to the new guests in their house and after a few more attempt of focusing to write a few more lines in vain, the poet gave up and sighed out loud as she placed everything in her small drawer in her desk, before sitting up from the chair and making her way downstairs to greet their guests.

"We’re so happy to have you here!"

"The pleasure is all ours Mr. Dickinson." An Irish accent waved through the air, increasing Emily’s curiosity and made her almost sprint down the stairs to go see the new maids as soon as she realized who their guests were.

"Oh Lavinia, come here. They are our new maids."

"Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you Miss Dickinson." Something like a familiar voice reached Emily’s ears as she descended the last few steps and almost fell down of them when she got at the top of the last set of stairs and her eyes met with a pair of wonderful, familiar irises.

"The pleasure is all mine, trust me!"

"Ah, Emily! You are here too. They are our new maids."

"Oh hello Miss Dickinson."

"Good evening Miss Dickinson."

"H-hello. Just call me Emily, please." The poet found the strength to descend the last few steps and even talk coherently before walking slowly towards the two new guests in her house, stopping right beside her father.

"You will meet my son soon. He is coming here with his wife tonight. And about my wife, I really don’t know where she is." Edward joked, making the two guests laugh softly under their breath, clear, wide smiles etched on their lips. "Anyway, they are Mrs. Maggie and Miss Y/N."

"It’s a real pleasure meeting you both." Lavinia butted in sincerely and nodded at them softly, meanwhile Emily still tried to properly kickstart her brain.

"It’s a pleasure for me too. I hope you will enjoy staying here."

"Oh Miss Dickinson, I am sure it will be amazing staying here." Maggie countered back with a warm grin, mirrored by Y/N right after with a small nod of her head.

"Alright, girls would you mind showing them around?"

"I need to finish a few things for my art lesson tomorrow." Lavinia admitted dejectedly and the fact that she could potentially be alone with Y/N again thrilled Emily to no end.

"I can show them around the house, no problem Vinnie. Dad we will see you later."

"Okay, have fun!" Emily smiled and nodded at her father before dorkily lifting her thumb up and saluted him before signaling Y/N and Maggie to follow her in the kitchen.

"Alright, this is the kitchen. A place my mom likes to call her kingdom." Emily joked with a soft snort that morphed into a squeal when her mother appeared out of nowhere.

"That’s right dear."

"Mom! You scared our guests!"

"I think you were the most scared here, honey." Emily rolled her eyes at her mother’s teasing and shook her head with an amused smile.

"Mom, they are Y/N and Maggie. Our new maids."

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Dickinson." Y/N was the first to speak up, trying to look cool when inside she was freaking out about meeting Emily again. She thought she would’ve never encountered her again.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Dickinson."

"You are so young Maggie." Emily smiled subtly as she sunk her teeth on her bottom lip to prevent to be caught laughing about her mother being so caught up in being mad for having maids in their house that she didn’t even pay attention remember their names, since she called Y/N Maggie.

"Mom, she is Y/N. She is Maggie." Emily emphasized the word ‘she’ as she pointed to the redhead and noticed, to her surprise, that both of their guests had amusement on their faces.

"Oh sorry, I have a terrible headache and I do not have my usual laser focused attention on anything today." Emily’s mother tried to cover up her mistake with a made up lie and laughed softly to light the air up quickly.

"Ah you should see me with an headache, I don’t even walk straight. I bump into things all the time." The redhead joked before moving on telling Emily’s mother an old Irish remedy for headache.

After a delicious dinner her mother prepared Y/N and Maggie disappeared into the kitchen to clean everything up, despite her mother’s protests, who in the end stayed still in her loveseat in the living room. The whole family stayed about an half an hour to chat, before everyone called it a night, saying goodbye to Sue and Austin, before going upstairs to sleep. Emily stayed in the living room a little bit more to pretend to read, staring at the words written on her book, as she waited for the perfect moment to ‘casually bump’ into Y/N before she could go to sleep in her room. Luckily she didn’t have to wait too long. "Go to bed aunt Maggie. We are almost done. I can finish the last touches myself."

"Are you sure?" Emily could hear the hesitation in Maggie’s tone, not wanting her niece to finish alone, but she could already picture Y/N protest with a resolute nod despite not knowing the girl at all except for a few details they shared a few days prior.

"I am sure auntie. Go. I will finish this up quickly and I will go to sleep too."

"Okay munchkin. Don’t wear yourself out. We have to wake up early tomorrow for breakfast."

"I won’t. Goodnight auntie."

"Goodnight Y/N/N." Emily immediately moved herself from her position on the loveseat as she was leaning over to take a small peak from the kitchen and eavesdrop as good as she could and pretended to casually read before Maggie could catch her. "Oh Miss Dickinson, still up?"

"Oh hey, Maggie. Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to read for a bit hoping sleep to find me."

"Ah, you should try the concoction my uncle used to make me when I couldn’t sleep. It was disgusting but it always made me sleep like a baby." Maggie delivered another one of her great and funny anecdotes to give her personal advice and Emily smiled kindly up at her as she caressed the pages of her book.

"One of these days you could make me some and we will see if it works for me too!"

"Alright. Goodnight Miss Dickinson."

"Goodnight Maggie." Emily smiled widely at the redhead before watching her walk up the stairs until she disappeared behind the wall. Emily stayed still for a few more seconds, listening for Maggie’s room’s door to close before immediately closing her book and sitting up, placed the book back in its designated place and almost sprinted into the kitchen, excited to finally spend some time alone with Y/N. She had been trying to do that for the whole evening, but she always had something to do with someone always in the way.

"Spying on people is wrong Miss Dickinson." Emily jumped up in fright as she had been caught staring from the threshold of the kitchen Y/N putting the plates they used during their dinner in the cabinet on top of the counter.

"Sorry, I was watching you work."

"Yeah, I noticed it." Emily smiled as her teeth sunk in her bottom lip at Y/N’s sarcastic counter back and walked into the kitchen, stopping right in front of Y/N, the kitchen’s wooden table separating them. The fire in the fireplace was still crackling softly in the silent room, bathing the room with an orange light that highlighted Y/N’s Y/E/C irises and almost made Emily faint at such ethereal beauty.

"Have you finished yet? You must be tired."

"I am, just a bit, but I am almost finished."

"Do you need some help?" Emily asked in hope Y/N would say yes, so she could prove to her she wasn’t the snotty rich girl that didn’t want to help in her house with chores. She didn’t exactly know why, but she just wanted to do it.

"No don’t worry. Aren’t you tired?"

"Not at all, I tend to have a lot of energy at night."

"Oh so you sleep during the day?"

"Not really. I am not a morning person, but I don’t oversleep."

"Oh I see." Emily detected a sarcastic lilt in Y/N’s tone and immediately wanted to prove to Y/N she wasn’t a lazy person.

"I swear I am not! Do you remember when we met a few days ago? It was around 7 a.m.! That was early in the morning!"

"Yeah, but I also remember that after that you forgot your buckets at the well." Y/N teased making Emily drop her jaw on the floor flabbergasted, making Y/N snort under her breath.

"I-I was distracted! I wanted to get them back but my mother prevented me to and did it herself."

"Yeah, I saw her." Y/N still had an amused grin on her lips but Emily could see the entertainment in her eyes that made Emily realize she was just messing with her and for a mysterious reason Emily wanted her to keep going, she wanted to be the subject of her teasing and entertainment just to see her smile.

"I tried to find you again at the well the next few days but I never did."

"Yeah, I was busy in the house helping Mr. Peterson with packing all his family’s stuff for their moving."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense." Emily nodded in understanding before detaching her eyes from Y/N’s magnetic ones and focused instead on her wringing hands.

"Did you finish Dante’s Divina Commedia?"

"Yeah, last night actually. This morning I tried to find something new to start but nothing piqued my interest." Emily admitted after moving her gaze back on Y/N, who now placed the cloth she had previously in her hands neatly folded on the table.

"Ah I see. It happens to me all the time."

"Do you have some recommendations?"

"Hm, I need to think about it. I am a little bit tired and I can’t actually think about anything worth your while right now." Y/N chuckled after finishing speaking as she shyly made her way towards Emily, who stood a few feet from her.

"Oh then I won’t keep you away from sleeping."

"No, no. Don’t worry. I like talking to you but for now, as late as it is, I would like to keep our conversation as simple as possible."

"That’s fine by me."

"Do you want to stay here or-."

Emily didn’t let Y/N finish as she spoke up without thinking, blurting words out without any control, "we can go up to my room."

Y/N seemed taken aback for a few quick moments before a mischievous grin replaced the confused frown she had on, "oh I see where this is going."

"What-? OH! NO, NO, NO, NO! Y/N!" Emily exclaimed in shock before slapping Y/N’s shoulder gently, watching as she snickered under her breath at her joke.

"What?! It was a legit reaction from me!"

"I am not trying to seduce you!" But I would like to. Emily thought wistfully in her head as she tried to look as shocked as she felt a few seconds prior instead of looking like a kicked puppy yearning for cuddles.

"That’s not what your words sounded like Miss Dickinson."

"Ugh, you are unbelievable!"

"Let’s go now." Y/N shook her head with a small chuckle, making Emily’s heart clench at her cuteness.

"I-Okay. But it’s not done!"

"Whatever, now let’s go!"

"Okay, okay. Relax." The two made their way up the stairs as quietly as they could since everyone was already asleep and as soon as Emily closed the door behind herself, she felt butterflies fly around her stomach in excitement. She was with Y/N, in her bedroom, alone.

"Nice room." Y/N admitted as she took Emily’s bedroom in, walking around the small room to try to take in as much details about Emily as she could in the softly lit room.

"Thank you. You can sit on my bed, you are tired. I will take the chair."

"I can’t sit down Emily. I am your maid."

"I don’t care."

"I am serious Emily. It won’t be a problem-." Emily stopped Y/N mid-sentence by walking towards her and stopping right in front of her before placing her hands on her shoulders and pushing her gently backwards until the back of her knees touched her mattress, then she pushed her down and made her sit on the bed.

"There, it wasn’t so bad, was it?" Emily smirked proudly down at a shocked Y/N and following the bold thrill she had been hit on, she sat right beside Y/N and bumped their shoulders together.

"You are always so full of surprises Miss Dickinson." Y/N admitted and Emily called herself crazy because she saw Y/N blush slightly under the soft light coming from the fireplace. It must be her infatuated mind playing her games.

"It’s something you need to get used to from now on."

"Hm, I like it though."

"I’m glad to hear that." For a moment they just stood there, sat in silence in Emily’s room, gazing into each other’s eyes as small smiles adorned their features.

"I noticed all those small scraps of paper on your desk, what are those for?"

"Oh I write my poems on them. I am actually working on a poem right now."

"Are you serious?"

"Very." Emily nodded and smiled as she pushed her chest up proudly, "do you want to read a few things I’ve written?"

"Oh yeah! Absolutely!"

"Okay then." Emily sat up from her bed and walked towards her desk, opened the small drawer and grabbed a few poems she was sure Y/N would’ve liked, of course she didn’t grab the few ones she wrote about her.

"Wow, there are so many!"

"Yeah!" Emily smiled brightly like a kid on Christmas Day, just like every time she talked about her poems, and watching Y/N’s eyes fill with excitement warmed her heart.

"I can’t wait to read them!"

"Okay, which one do you want to start with?"

"I don’t know, you are the poet. You should tell me."

"I- I don’t actually know! Let me think- I want you to start with-." Emily trailed off to pick one out of the five ones she brought to Y/N as she sat back down on the bed, "this one, but then I also want you to read this one first." Emily pointed to another poem with her pointer finger as she held the previous poem she choose in her hand and smiled sheepishly at Y/N.

"Okay, let’s try with this. What is the poem you are the most proud of. Don’t think too much. Just point at it."

"Okay, hm- this one then."

"Alright." Y/N grabbed the poem Emily gave her and opened the small folded up paper, reading the words written in Emily’s elegant but a bit messy handwriting. The edges of the paper were a little bit dirty with ink but it only made the poem ten times better, full of raw emotions and vulnerability.

"What do you think?" Emily asked anxiously after a few minutes passed by and Y/N haven’t opened her mouth yet, her Y/E/C irises glued on the small piece of paper and her face completely blank, making reading her face a really difficult task for the poet.

"I-I-. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read, Emily. It’s so raw, so real. It opened my mind to new possibilities, it made my eyes see the world from another point of view. It felt like I was in your mind and I could see the world how you see it."

"Do you think so?"

"Absolutely!" Emily felt tears prickle behind her eyes at Y/N’s words, something really rare despite how emotional Emily was about her poems. She was very proud of them and when people complimented them it only helps to boost her self-esteem but it never happened that just a few words made her almost cry. Y/N was really special.

"Thank you. Truly." Emily smiled appreciatively at Y/N as she tried with all her might to not cry in front of Y/N. "No one ever complimented my poems that way."

"Well people are dumb and stupid. You are an amazing writer and your poems will change lives." Emily smiled bittersweetly at that as she picked at a thumbnail nervously. Those words. She recalled them being said by Sue.

"Yeah, I already heard that. Someone already told me."

"And why do you not believe in them?"

"It’s not that I don’t believe in them." Emily started slowly, swallowing the small lump that immediately formed in her throat as her mind filled with memories of Sue, of all the great time she spent with her, of how much she cared for her. "It’s just that- the person that told me that doesn’t tell me those words anymore."

"Why? Did they change their minds?"

"No absolutely not. We just- grew apart I think. She has a new life now. I’m not a part of it anymore."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Y/N asked in a soft voice, leaning her head to the side, in a cute manner Emily noted, and looking at Emily with a gentle gaze as soon as she noticed the poet’s sad expression on her features.

"Not right now. I will, I trust you. I just- I don’t want to ruin the mood or like- annoy you."

"You won’t ever annoy me Emily Dickinson. You have such a way with words that you make listening to you alluring." Emily felt her eyes prickle slightly with unshed tears again as she listened to Y/N’s words and smiled appreciatively at her.

"I- I don’t know what to say. I-thank you."

"You don’t need to thank me Emily. I mean that. I hope you know I am sincere."

"I know, I can sense it from your voice and your eyes." Emily pointed her words out with her brown eyes as she glued them to Y/N’s Y/E/C irises, noticing Y/N swallowing almost imperceptibly at the bold gesture but decided to not comment on it.

"You know-." Y/N started after a few moments of them just staring into each other eyes, both feeling the air around them charge with an unknown electricity but not dwelling or thinking about it too much, but got cut off by a big yawn. She promptly covered her mouth with her hand before placing it back on her lap and smiling embarrassedly at Emily with a small blush on her cheeks, "sorry, I am a bit tired."

"Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing for keeping you up this late at night after the busy day you had. Not to mention the busy early day you will have tomorrow. Shit, I am so sorry." Emily grimaced after she realized she had been keeping Y/N from her well-needed sleep, but Y/N, the cute self she is, only shook her head gently.

"No, no, no, Emily. It’s fine. I wanted to spend some time with you too."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Y/N smiled widely at Emily before starting to get up from her bed, "well, I should go to sleep now. I need to be up at 6 a.m. to start preparing breakfast."

"Do you need some help with that tomorrow morning?"

"Another one of these questions. Hm, are you sure you really needed a maid? You seem to want to do all these chores by yourself." Y/N questioned with a mocking tone as a small, entertained smirk appeared on her lips, mirth clear in her Y/E/C irises as they eyed Emily teasingly.

"I just-." Emily trailed off to ponder her options. She could easily lie about her real intentions behind her question or she could be bold for once and actually tell she just want to spend as much time as she could with Y/N to get to know her. She decided to be bold for once. She was tired not listening to her heart’s desires. "I like your company and I really want to spend more time with you."

"Oh Emily, we will spend more time together, I promise. My aunt Maggie established a few shifts between us. I have an early morning but I work till 6 p.m., then I’m done for the day. We can do something together after dinner like tonight." Y/N suggested as she idly played with her fingers, anticipation filling her whole body as she waited for Emily’s reaction to her suggestion.

"That would be great!" Emily exclaimed excitedly and had to really stop herself from jumping up and down in happiness at the prospect of spending more time with Y/N, just sticking on grinning widely at Y/N, who did the same.

"Okay then. Goodnight." Y/N nodded towards Emily and turned around to open the door, before turning her head back around to look at Emily once again, waiting her answer.

"Goodnight Y/N. Sleep well."

"You too."

Y/N opened the door completely and exited the room, smiled at Emily one more time before closing the door, sauntering into her room, across from her aunt’s one. As soon as the door closed, Emily sighed out dreamily and let herself fall on her mattress with a dopey smile on her lips, the soft thud filling the silence in the room. "Y/N." She whispered under her breath before closing her eyes and let her mind be filled with images of Y/N as she let sleep take over her.

"Good morning!" Emily exclaimed as soon as she entered the living room, her face illuminated by a big grin that lighted up the whole room, making her whole family, already seated at the table, look at her curiously.

"Someone is in a great mood today." Edward pointed out after he pushed his newspaper down and took a look at her daughter.

"I just slept good, that’s all."

"You are right on time honey, I was just telling your father that Austin and Sue will join us for dinner tonight again." Emily spit the sip of tea she was drinking at the news, not noticing the small snort that left Y/N’s mouth as she served the poet her breakfast, luckily only Emily heard that.

"What?"

"Isn’t it amazing? It’s been too long since they had been here with us. They are so busy with their sophisticated parties these days. It’s a rare occasion having them joining us for two nights in a row."

"Parties I am paying." Edward pointed out making Emily grunt in acknowledgement. She was avoiding Sue at all costs and she was glad the night prior they were all busy chatting, it made avoiding Sue easier.

"Parties we are not invited to. Em you are Sue’s best friend, why don’t you ask her to invite us?" Lavinia lamented with a whining tone, pushing gently on her sister’s shoulder but then crossing her arms stubbornly when Emily just gently shook her head.

"She has new friends now. She is not interested in hanging out with us anymore." Y/N couldn’t help but notice the bittersweet tone Emily used as she addressed her sister’s question and the sad expression that flitted over her features for just over a second before it got covered by a calculated blank expression, but she couldn’t dwell on it too much as she kept serving breakfast to the Dickinson family, so she made a mental note to ask Emily about it that night.

"Speaking of friends, Emily!" Emily’s mother caught the poet’s attention and continued only when she met her eyes, "I met George this morning at the grocery store. He is such a nice guy."

"I know where this is going mom. I’m not going to marry him. He is a great friend. That’s all." Y/N missed Emily’s mother counter back and she didn’t hear the rest of the conversation going between Emily and her mother as she returned to the kitchen to tidy up the kitchen a bit before starting up lunch, not having the time to notice her stomach jumping up in happiness at Emily refusing to marry her friend.

"Are you sure? I can help you with all this mess."

"Oh don’t worry Y/N/N, go get some rest. You had a very stressful day. It’s my turn now." Maggie assured her niece, waving her off as she tidied up the kitchen after the Dickinson’s dinner. "No, don’t try to convince me. Go!"

"Thank you. Goodnight."

"G’night."

Y/N exited the kitchen to go up the stairs and to her room, but unfortunately she had to pass by the living room where the Dickinson family was still chatting after their dinner. Y/N sighed out of relief when no one seemed to notice her presence and kept minding their business and continued her quiet way up the stairs, a little bit sad that she probably won’t spend some time with Emily like they planned. Despite good mood being slightly dampened by hers and Emily’s plans ruined, when she arrived at her door she sighed out wistfully at the mere thought of finally getting rid of her devilish corset and lay on bed, but before she could open the door a hand touched her shoulder and squealed in fright. "Shit- Emily!"

"Sorry, sorry! I thought you heard me." Emily reasoned with an apologetic grimace, warming Y/N’s heart at the cute sight when she turned around and was met with puppy dog eyes.

"No, I was just thinking about getting rid of my corset."

"Oh I know the feeling. Looking forward on breathing normally again, hm?" Emily joked, making Y/N snort softly as she nodded in agreement with the poet.

"You have no idea."

"I have actually, because I need to get rid of my corset too. I can’t stand having it on me for one more second. Do you mind if I change in my night gown and then we can hang out?"

Y/N looked a bit taken aback from the question, not really expecting it from the brunette, "don’t you have your entire family downstairs?"

"Yeah, but they will be fine. I spent enough quality time with them, now it’s time to spend some quality time with you." Emily admitted with the slightest rosy tint on her cheeks and for once she was grateful for the lightly lit hallway so she can hide it from Y/N, who didn’t seem to notice Emily’s shy behavior.

"You make me feel too special Emily. Choosing me over your family, wow- that’s flattering." Y/N felt the need to half joke with her hand on her heart as she tried to not show how much touched she was by Emily’s words, since she only met the poet a few days prior and she was her maid.

"Get used to it! Now let’s go, I’ll help you with your corset then you’ll help me with mine."

"Hm, so eager to see me naked. Are you trying to seduce me Miss Dickinson?" Emily felt her face heat up in a millisecond at the question, not sure this time she could hide it from Y/N, her heart skipping a beat before starting beating fast in her chest as her mind filled with completely not innocent images of a naked Y/N on h-. "Emily? Are you okay?"

"Oh- I- I was-wasn’t. I was just trying to help, y’know since corsets are so difficult to take off. I always ask Lavinia to help me because I can’t reach the strings behind me, but she is busy right now so sh-."

"Emily, it’s okay. I was kidding, relax." Y/N giggled softly under her breath and bumped her left shoulder with Emily’s one to help the girl calm down, effectively stopping her ramblings.

"Oh I- I knew that." Emily laughed awkwardly for a few moments before clearing her throat, "should we, I don’t know go in your room or-?"

"Oh yes, let’s go, so I can help you undress." The last part of Y/N’s phrase sent Emily’s brain out of control as it replayed those words over and over again and each time it only helped melting her brain into mush as far from innocent images filed in.

"O-okay, let’s go." Y/N nodded and opened her bedroom door, letting Emily in first then following her, closing the door a moment later to have some privacy.

"How was dinner?" Y/N asked as she tried to look as nonchalant as she could despite having a really pretty girl in her bedroom about to undress her. Okay that totally sounded really dirty and out of context it could sound like what it actually sounded like, but we all know the truth, right?

"It was good. I liked your special bread recipe, you need to teach me how to make it."

"Oh yeah, it’s actually aunt Maggie’s recipe, but I added a little bit of raisins to enhance its flavor."

"They definitely do their work because it was the best bread I’ve ever tasted. Do not tell my mother that." Emily was quick to whisper the last part with the hand on the left side of her mouth, making Y/N laugh heartily at her goofiness.

"Noted." Y/N nodded as she still smiled widely at Emily, before starting playing with her fingers nervously. "Hm-."

"What?"

"I- I really can’t resist another second in this. Can you please-?" Y/N trailed off, letting the half-finished question hang in the electrified air between them as she stared at everything around the room but at Emily’s magnetic brown irises, moving her hands to signal behind her back to hint at Emily she needed to take off her corset.

"Wha- OH! Your corset. Of course. Yeah. Yeah." Emily nodded as she stumbled over her words, grimacing inwardly at her awkwardness. "Hm- turn around please. I’ll help you out."

"Oh yeah, thank you." Y/N held her breath as she turned around and almost gasped out loud when a pair of slightly cold hands touched the skin of her back.

"Sorry, my hands are a bit cold."

"Don’t worry." Y/N let out in a breath as she tried to calm herself down and not look like she was actually melting under Emily’s touch. After a few moments, Emily succeeded in loosening the strands of Y/N’s corset and the girl visibly relaxed, "letting your corset loose is like- the best feeling ever, right?"

"Yeah, every night I feel like my soul comes back in my body."

"Yeah, they should be banned. Why women need to suffer this much while men wear the comfiest clothes ever created?"

Emily listened to Y/N talking as she focused on her fingers unfastening Y/N’s corset, "that’s what I’m always thinking about. I tried pants once, it was a breakthrough. Never had on something so comfy in my life. Even my night gown isn’t that comfortable."

"Wait- you had the privilege to try pants on?"

"Yeah! Of course my parents don’t know that, but yeah."

"Wow, I always imagined trying them! How do they feel?"

"Amazing! And I even tried a blouse with a vest. No corset on. Even better than having pants on." Emily admitted and watched delighted Y/N’s face illuminate like a Christmas three, full of curiosity and wonder.

"Wow, that sounds amazing." Emily focused on untying the last strand of Y/N’s corset with shaky hands even if she tried to stop her body from shaking with her nerves, the mere thought Y/N was a few beats away from being naked short-circuited her brain. "I always wanted to try men’s clothes on."

"When do you have the whole afternoon free?" Emily asked with excitement shining brightly in her eyes, almost jumping up and down in her spot in anticipation as an idea popped in her mind.

"Thursday. I start at 18 Friday afternoon then."

"Alright, I really hoped it was Thursday afternoon. My parents and Lavinia are going to some kinda spa thing my aunt Lavinia organized, I’m not going because I’m not in the mood to go, even if my mom and Lavinia have been trying to convince me for days. But now that I know we can have almost 24 hours together I’m definitely not going."

"Wait- hold on, are you serious?"

"Yeah, I can even convince them to bring Maggie with them or let her have a few days off. I think they will be back Friday night or maybe Saturday morning, I need to ask them."

"Wow, I don’t know what to say!"

"Well, my dear Y/N get ready for these days all by ourselves." Emily announced excitedly, finding the same amount of excitement she had in her eyes into Y/N’s Y/E/C irises, warming her heart to no end. She was afraid she could come off as too eager to spend some alone time with Y/N, but the Y/H/C girl didn’t seem to mind or she didn’t pay attention to it and it reassured Emily.

"I can’t wait." Y/N exclaimed excitedly before shivering slightly as cold air hit her hot skin, "I should put something on quickly."

"Oh yeah, it’s freezing!"

The two girls stayed looking at each other for a few more seconds before Y/N moved her gaze away to find something to put on, Emily quickly turning around as her cheeks warmed up and her heart beat loudly in her ears. "Okay, we can go now."

"Oh thank God, I seriously need to get rid of this corset as well."

"We better hurry up then." Y/N snickered at Emily’s whiny tone, ushering her out her room.

"Have you ever thought-." Emily stopped in her tracks when, after looking at Y/N for a moment on her way out Y/N’s room, she turned back around to look where she was going to not trip over something and she was met with a pair of familiar eyes.

"Emily."

"Sue." Y/N exited the room right behind Emily and stopped in her tracks too when she was met with Sue’s confused and also a little bit… jealous? - Y/N couldn’t tell - eyes, but she sure she could feel a little bit of electricity palpable in the air, especially when Sue detached her eyes from her and stared Emily down with an hard gaze, silence filling the small hallway for a few long moments.

"I- I hoped we could talk a bit. It’s been a while."

"Oh- can we do it tomorrow? I am a bit tired."

"Oh- oh y-yeah, s-sure. How is it going with your poems?" Sue asked with a bit of a shaky voice, her eyes full of a nostalgic glint that intrigued Y/N to no end.

"It’s going just fine. They are my safe place where I can hide when I need to be away from the world."

"Yeah, I remember. They were the most powerful way for your heart and mind to speak out loud. I miss them." Sue admitted with a nostalgic tilt in her tone that kept fueling Y/N’s curiosity about the strange dynamic that Emily and Sue shared.

"Well you decided you didn’t want them anymore. So it’s a bit hypocritical missing them, don’t you think?"

"I- I- uh, that’s why I wanted to talk to you." Sue started with her voice full of anxiety and anticipation, "it’s been too long and I-."

"You were pretty clear the last time we spoke to each other. If you want to tell me about your amazing parties and your new friends, fine. But if you want to say anything else, you don’t need to worry. There is nothing else to say."

"I-." Sue sighed out loud while her shoulders lost their tension and slumped back in their position, "I guess you are right. I have no right to want to make amends after what I did and said. I just miss my best friend."

"What? Aren’t your new friends enough? This explains your need to always want more."

"I guess I deserved that." Sue hung her head down a few beats before meeting Emily’s eyes again, "I didn’t want this. Us fighting."

"I didn’t want this too. I- listen, we will talk. Tomorrow. Okay?"

"Thank you." Sue went to hug Emily but she stopped in her tracks when she stepped back and shook her head a bit.

"Right. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Have a good night Mrs. Dickinson." Y/N chimed in for the first time since they bumped into Sue and smiled politely at the girl who looked her up and down before smiling politely too and nodding back.

"Have a good night too-."

"Y/N." Y/N finished for Sue, who trailed off waiting for the Y/E/C girl to help her out.

"Y/N." Sue repeated before turning around and going down the stairs where chatter was still going animatedly. Y/N watched the brunette’s back a few seconds as her mind replayed everything that went through in the last couple of minutes before focusing her attention back on Emily, finding her already looking at her, making her heart skip a beat.

"Hey." Y/N started with a soft voice, her smile widening when Emily grinned gently at her.

"Hey. Sorry you had to witness that." Emily apologized as she opened her bedroom door and lead them in her bedroom.

"That’s fine. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Emily sighed out loud and nodded gently at the Y/H/C girl while closing her bedroom door. She stared a few seconds at Y/N before turning around, "can you help me?"

"Yeah sure." Y/N’s voice was a slightly bit hoarse as she walked on shaky legs towards the poet, who was standing in the middle of her bedroom, but she paid her no mind as her brain played the conversation she had with Sue a few minutes prior.

"I can’t believe she told me those things. She had no right to tell me those things!"

"I’m sorry Emily but I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You’re right. I will tell you after getting out of this damned corset."

"I feel you." Y/N snorted as she started unfastening the knots on Emily’s corset to help her out of it faster, the poet already sighing out happily.

"Oh yes. This is wonderful." Emily moaned out in delight as soon as she felt the corset starting to loose around her upper body, creating a tingling sensation all over Y/N’s body at the unexpected sound, but she kept going instead of fainting embarrassingly behind Emily.

"Yeah, I feel you."

"I hope one day we can get rid of these things. They are awful." Emily admitted and watched as Y/N nodded in agreement when she turned her head around slightly to Y/N behind her still working on unfastening her corset’s straps.

"Yeah. It will take a lot but I’m sure they won’t be used anymore."

"We would wear something similar, maybe something that doesn’t feel so tight and that doesn’t need help to take it off."

"Oh wow, that would be wonderful. I still struggle trying to take it off myself." Y/N snorted under her breath as she shook her head.

"Wait, do you really take it off yourself?"

"Well yeah, most of the times I ask my aunt Maggie to help me, but a few times I had to do it myself when she is still busy or not around in that moment."

"Wow." Emily exclaimed, but furrowed her eyebrows when she heard Y/N chuckle under her breath, "why are you laughing?"

"Because I remembered I once struggled so much in taking my corset off that I didn’t see the bed and fell down on it and then on the floor." Y/N explained, giggling after finishing with Emily doing the same as she imagined the hilarious scene, "here you go. I’m done. You’re free from your corset."

"Oh yes! Thank you!" Emily moved without properly thinking and pushed the top of her dress and her corset down to her hip as she turned around, exposing her upper body to Y/N, who widened comically her eyes as they inevitably fell on Emily’s exposed chest. "Oh my God!"

"Oh- sorry, sorry!" Y/N immediately turned herself around and covered her eyes as a deep, burgundy blush fell on her cheeks. "Sorry for looking I- hm." Y/N cleared her throat and tried to find the right words that would not make this situation even more embarrassing but her brain seemed to be stuck in a spiral of images of Emily’s round and full breasts and was incapable of forming coherent thoughts, so she decided to just shut up.

"No, no. Don’t apologize. I should be sorry for- flashing my tits in your face." Emily turned around too, making now both of their backs face each other, and touched her cheeks to try in vain to subdue her scorching blush, while frantically searching her night gown to put on.

Y/N snorted imperceptibly under he breath and let the next, murmured words slip out of her mouth without her consent, "I should thank you instead."

It was almost imperceptible, but Emily caught it since the wired silence surrounding them was almost deafening and it made her stop in her tracks as she opened her drawer. She couldn’t have heard right, could she? Do those words mean Y/N felt something for her too? Or maybe that she was at least attracted to her? She needed answers. "I’m sorry again. I wasn’t thinking."

"Don’t worry. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable."

"Are you serious? I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable." Emily countered back as she carefully took her dress and corset down her body, then putting her night gown on, purposefully choosing one that has a slight see-through fabric around her chest area. This way she could know if Y/N was interested in her in that way or not. If her eyes struggled to not stay focused on her chest, maybe she had a chance with her. "You can turn around."

"So, what happened with-." Y/N did as Emily told her but stopped mid-sentence when Emily turned around and she almost flashed her breasts to her again. The top half of Emily’s dress’ fabric was see-through, that much so that Y/N could see Emily’s erect nipples, but she wasn’t sure they were erect from the cold of the room despite the fire crackling on the right side of the room or from something else. Y/N immediately noticed her slip up and her ogling and forced her eyes to look at a portray on Emily’s wall, beside her head, instead as she cleared her throat, forcing herself to not stare at Emily’s visible chest again, "hm- with Sue?"

"Oh yeah, right, hm. Can I trust you?"

"Emily of course. I promise your secrets are safe with me."

"No, I know it. It’s just- nobody knows about this but- we had a thing going on." Emily admitted quickly, not exactly knowing how to put into words what she wanted to say, extremely afraid to watch Y/N’s facial expression at her revelation, so as soon as she finished talking, she focused her eyes on the fire crackling on her left and played around with her fingers.

"Oh wow."

"Yeah."

"Did you love her?" Y/N asked after a few beats of silence, completely taking Emily off guard.

"Wow, I wasn’t expecting this question."

"Sorry, it was too personal. You don’t have to answer me."

"No, I didn’t mean it like that. I-hm, I was expecting you- well I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe you asking about our arrangement. Or maybe not reacting this well about this- new information about me."

"Oh yeah, I got it. You don’t have to worry about that. Like ever. I- I know what it feels like to like- love a woman."

Emily had to rectify her previous statement. That took her off guard. "Really?"

"I realized it when I was 15. I started working with my aunt Maggie in a beautiful house. Their owners were a wonderful family. Always so polite, never getting angry, very sweet with me since I was a kid but also with my aunt Maggie. They were treating us like we were part of their family. But Molly. Molly was the sweetest of them. Not to mention beautiful. We were close since we were the same age. But- hm- you were lucky enough to have some kind of something with the person I presume you loved. I wasn’t that lucky. I had to endure watching her loving someone else. For the entirety of my time as a maid in their house."

"I’m so sorry Y/N." Emily butted in as soon as Y/N, after turning around towards the fireplace, trailed off to stare blankly at the fire, too caught up in her thoughts to notice Emily approaching her slowly.

"Don’t be. It happens. Especially in the world we live in. Where people like us has to hide."

"I hope one day we don’t have to." Emily admitted a little bit wistfully, her heart aching for the pain she can clearly see in Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes when she finally looked into her brown ones. She had been lucky enough to at least act on her feelings somehow. Y/N hasn’t been that lucky.

"I hope that too." Y/N smiled gently at Emily, their eyes meeting a few seconds before Y/N’s Y/E/C one’s focused on the fireplace again.

"Did you tell her how you felt?"

"Oh God, no. Are you crazy? She would’ve ruined my life, my reputation, I could have lost my job."

"Yeah, but you broke your heart that way."

"Yeah. It will heal, eventually." Y/N shrugged like it was nothing, "it’s already healing."

"How long has it been since it happened?" Emily asked a little bit sadly, her eyes conveying as much compassion and sympathy she could to try to make Y/N feel a little bit better. Little did she know she was already making her feel better by healing her broken heart.

"About two years."

"Wow." Emily exclaimed as her brain wrapped itself around this new piece of information. She didn’t know what to say to Y/N to help her make her feel better, she had been broken hearted by Sue, but they at least had some kind of relationship.

"Woman full of words I must say. It must be easy being a poet."

Y/N’s joke made Emily snort under her breath, a gesture that she hoped distracted Y/N enough to not make her see the blush she triggered with her words. "Shut up. I was just shocked." Emily pushed on Y/N’s left shoulder when she snickered under her breath and pretended to be offended.

"Oh no, don’t be mad. I was joking. Well- not completely but- HEY! Don’t hit me with your pillow."

"Or what?" Emily smirked widely when, without Y/N noticing, grabbed the pillow laying on the chair beside her and lifted it up to hit the Y/H/C girl, but before Y/N could form any sort of warning, she got blocked by Emily swinging the pillow forward and hitting her on the face.

"Ok, you asked for it." Y/N stopped another hit with her right arm while she fumbled behind her to grab a pillow on Emily’s bed and as soon as her hand wrapped itself around the soft pillow she flung it around and hit Emily right on the face, stopping her movements altogether as she stared with a shocked but amused expression on her face at Y/N.

"You. Didn’t."

"Oh I did. I can do it again if you want."

"Don’t you dare! No! Y/N!" But it was too late. As soon as Emily finished threatening Y/N, a pillow hit her face and made her stumble a bit, but she regained her balance quickly and flung her pillow at Y/N, hitting her on her arm.

"Alright, alright. Truce." Y/N placed the pillow back on the bed and waited with an entertained smirk on her lips for Emily as she mirrored her gesture and placed the pillow onto Y/N’s one on the mattress.

"Anyway, before someone interrupted me, I was gonna say I am sorry for what you went through."

"It’s in the past now. I’m finally healing. I’m finally moving on." Y/N admitted, a slight rosy pink tinting her cheeks, something that didn’t go unnoticed from Emily but the poet decided to not ask anything about it, for now.

"I'm so happy to hear that."

"Yeah. It’s not that easy, but I will be fine. Hopefully soon." Y/N admitted with a shy smile, a gesture that Emily mirrored as she nodded in understanding.

"Good, you deserve to be happy."

"Yeah, you too. Speaking of which, how about you?"

"What about me?"

"You two had a thing going on. It must be painful calling everything off."

"It’s actually going good. I missed her a lot since we stopped our thing, but it got better in the end."

"I’m glad to hear that." Y/N smiled widely at Emily and nodded, igniting a fire within Emily that she thought it was extinguished when her thing with Sue was over.

"I- hm." Emily trailed off to ponder her next words carefully, not completely sure she wanted to admit out loud and to Y/N what she wanted to say. After a few beats of silence she made up her mind and decided she wanted to be brave, she wanted to take a shot and discover if Y/N actually liked her more than a friend. "I met someone. I- she made me feel things I thought I only felt with and for Sue."

"Oh." Y/N cleared her throat, successfully getting rid of the jealous lump it formed in her throat at Emily’s admission, but as hard as she tried no other words left her mouth.

"Yeah."

"How is- she?" Y/N stuttered, cursing herself for being so obvious about her jealousy, but it seemed Emily paid no mind to it.

"Perfect. Extremely funny, always so polite and sweet." Emily gushed uncontrollably, her eyes shining brightly with all the affection she felt for the other girl, "oh and she has a great mind too, full of ideas that fascinates me. We have a lot of hobbies in common. She is perfect."

"Wow, from what I’ve heard from your description she might be. Is she pretty?"

"No. She is beautiful."

"Already so smitten for her, hm?" Y/N teased with an arched eyebrow and a small grin to try to divert Emily’s attention on her to prevent the poet to detect her jealousy.

"How could I not? She is perfect. I think- I never felt something so hard for someone. Not even Sue."

"Does-hm-." Y/N cleared her throat when her voice wavered a bit, "does she feel the same?"

"I don’t know, but I’m trying to figure it out." Emily admitted a little bit cryptically, noticing every little reaction coming from Y/N to at least detect any kind of sign from her and if her instinct was right, she was jealous, so she maybe felt the same.

"Have you told her?"

"No. I’m a little bit insecure about it. She could feel the same but- what if she doesn’t?"

"Yeah, I know what you’re feeling. I felt the same way with Molly. I spent a year beating myself up for not telling her. Maybe we could have worked out in some way or maybe definitely not. I spent a year living on ‘what ifs’. But I have to be honest, now that I’ve moved on I think it was better that way. I don’t think she was the one for me."

"So you’re saying I shouldn’t tell her?" Emily smiled slightly at the girl rambling her thoughts out, finding all of that an extremely adorable sight witness and it became ten times cuter when Y/N blushed at her stare before shaking her head softly.

"No, what I’m trying to say is-." Y/N trailed of to take a deep breath as she stared intently into Emily’s brown eyes, "do whatever your heart craves. I’ve thought a lot about it and with a clear head I realized I was just deeply infatuated with Molly. I wasn’t actually in love with her. If it was true love I wouldn’t have moved on. So if you feel like she is the one, like you need to tell her because you truly want her, then do it. Don’t think too much about it." Emily looked at Y/N like a lovesick puppy as she talked, flaring up the fire she felt burning for Y/N, so with a made up mind and without properly thinking, as soon as Y/N finished speaking Emily surged forward and planted a soft kiss on her lips, lingering only a few seconds before pulling away abruptly, fearing Y/N’s reaction when she felt the girl completely frozen in her spot.

"I- shit- I’m so sorry- hmph." Emily got stopped abruptly when a pair of soft lips unexpectedly pressed themselves hard on her own, making her head spin out of control with a plethora of emotions she only felt when she wrote her poems. Emily felt her brain completely shutting off as she completely dived into the blissful sensation of Y/N’s mouth on hers. Their lips danced sensually over the rhythm their heartbeats set, their bodies burned from the passion the two girls shared but had to suppress for their own fears of losing the other if their feelings weren’t reciprocated, their minds were a delicious mess as their senses were completely filled with the other’s taste, perfume, essence. It was a perfect mix that both of them wished it could never end.

But Y/N had to reluctantly slow their kiss down and pull slightly away from Emily to take some needed breath as her lungs screamed for some air and she was pretty sure Emily felt if her heaving chest was anything to go by. "Do not apologize for that. Because it was so perfect."

"I was just panicking. I thought I read your signals wrong and I went too far."

"It was extremely impossible to read them wrong since I’ve been trying to not stare at your boobs for the past 20 minutes and I’ve been failing miserably." Emily snorted at Y/N’s admission, feeling a sense of pride swell in her chest as well as a familiar burning sensation in her lower stomach lighting her whole body up at Y/N’s admission.

"I think now is the right time to confess I chose this night gown on purpose." Y/N swallowed loudly when Emily winked seductively at her while puffing her chest up, giving Y/N the intoxicating view of her half exposed breasts.

"You like to torture me." Y/N murmured under her breath as her eyes never moved away from Emily’s chest, watching it move up and down with every breath the poet took and feeling her insides melt each time a nipple came in sight through the see-through fabric of Emily’s night gown.

"Why?"

"Because I can’t touch them."

"Who said you can’t?"

"Yo- wait, what?" Instead of answering verbally Emily smirked mischievously, grabbed Y/N’s wrist and pulled her hand towards herself. Just when it was hovering inches from her covered chest, she lifted her right eyebrow and silently asked Y/N if it was okay for her and smiled widely when the girl instantly nodded enthusiastically. The Y/H/C girl’s grin dropped as soon as her hand came in contact with Emily’s right breast and let out a small moan without noticing, making the poet groan at the unexpected attractive sound.

"Oh, Y/N." Emily whined and gripped Y/N’s wrist a bit more strongly when the girl squeezed her breast tentatively, but just right to light up her whole body with need.

"Come here." Y/N snaked her other hand behind Emily’s neck and pushed her harshly onto her lips to share a bruising kiss, reigniting the fire they set up a few moments prior. Y/N promptly swallowed another sound coming from Emily as she changed the angle of their kiss, full of passion but still chaste. But Emily needed more. She wanted to taste Y/N’s mouth fully. Just when Emily was debating with her mind to try to find the courage to deepen the kiss, Y/N beat her to it as her tongue licked the seam of Emily’s lips to ask for entrance. The poet granted it a few beats later with another small whine and her body got completely wrecked by a shiver running down her spine when their tongues met just as Y/N’s thumb and pointer finger found her nipple and pinched it gently but firmly.

"Oh fuck." They let their desire take over for a few minutes, giving their tongues time to explore the other’s mouth, licking every nook and cranny of each other’s mouth and swallowing every small sound they could pull from the other. As they kissed fervently, Emily’s other hand, until now placed meekly on her lap, sneaked into Y/N’s hair, after freeing them from the bun she had on all day and pulled on the Y/E/C girl’s scalp each time Y/N found a new way to stimulate her nipple or when her tongue moved just right. Their small moment was abruptly interrupted when they heard Emily’s family wishing each other a goodnight and they had to reluctantly pull away from each other, but not before sharing a few small, sweet pecks.

"I should go."

"No please, stay." Emily begged, leaning their foreheads together and sighing disapprovingly when Y/N removed her hand from her chest, only to smile widely when she grabbed Emily’s hand and intertwined their fingers together.

"I can’t. Your family is going to be upstairs any minute. We can’t get caught."

"You’re right." Emily sighed and nodded gently. Y/N had a point. "With Sue it was easier. My parents always let her sleep with me."

"Already talking about your ex with me Dickinson? Are you trying to make me jealous?" Y/N teased with a wide grin that widened when Emily blushed softly and pushed her gently on her shoulder.

"No, you jerk. I just wished it was that easier with you too. We wouldn’t have to stop this." Emily murmured seductively before leaning slowly towards Y/N and capturing Y/N’s lips in a slow but sensual kiss, making it last just a few seconds to tease Y/N and smirking widely when she accomplished her mission after hearing Y/N grunt in disapproval at her pulling away from the kiss and trying to follow her lips to kiss her again. "But you have a point. You sadly need to go. When do you have some time off tomorrow?"

"Around 11 a.m."

"Perfect, meet me here. I will tell my mom I need some help with my surprisingly ripped dress." Emily winked as she stressed the word ‘surprisingly’ and felt her heart swell at the sound of Y/N’s cute giggle.

"Alright. Goodnight Emily. Sleep well." They shared another kiss full of passion before Y/N quickly slipped out of Emily’s room, just a minute before Emily’s parents walked up the stairs to go into their room, followed right after by Lavinia.

Both girls had some troubles falling asleep that night as adrenaline still pushed through their bodies still burning with their passion, but after about an hour both girls fell asleep with wide grins on their lips, excited for the next day.

"Good morning my dear family!" Emily entered the living room with a brighter-than-the-sun smile, making the whole family stare at her weirdly.

"Should we get used to her being in a good mood every morning?" Edward asked his wife as both looked at Emily weirdly, eyebrows furrowed and confused expression on their faces.

"I like it." Lavinia interjected and giggled loudly when Emily run towards her and hugged tightly her over the chair. After a couple of seconds she walked to her chair and sat down, immediately stuffing her face with the delicious breakfast she had in front of her on the table.

"Hm, Maggie this breakfast is amazing!" Emily murmured with her mouth full of chocolate cake, rolling her eyes back in pure ecstasy as all the flavors hit her taste buds, completely ignoring her mother’s reprimand stare.

"Thank you Miss Dickinson, but I didn’t make it. Y/N did."

"Oh really? Where did you take the recipe?" Emily’s mother spoke up in disbelief as she too took a bite of her cake and widened her eyes comically at the tasty cake.

"It’s actually mine. It’s not that difficult to make. The secret is chocolate."

"Ugh, Y/N you need to teach me how to do this." Emily requested as casually as she could, this time waiting to swallow the cake and swiping the chocolate away from her mouth before talking, to not rise her family’s suspicions of her asking Y/N to teach her how to make a cake since she always refused to help her mom in the kitchen. "It’s delicious."

"Oh please Y/N if you succeed in making Emily do anything in the kitchen I will give you a week off." Emily turned her head towards her mother and stuck her tongue out, making her mother laugh at her in amusement.

"It would be a pleasure Miss Dickinson."

"Miss Dickinson?" Emily asked in a mocking tone, trying to make her best impression of Y/N, on Y/N’s lips after pulling away from the bruising kiss the two shared after Emily literally flung herself into Y/N’s arms as soon as they entered her bedroom, slamming her on the door.

"I can’t call you with your first name Emily, even if you asked me to."

"I know, but it was hilarious hearing you calling me by my last name. It’s weird."

"No, weird is being in a room with your parents when all my brain could think of was how good it felt kissing you." Y/N admitted with her eyes glued on Emily’s plump lips, biting down on her own bottom lip then to emphasize her appreciation of Emily’s lips.

"Not as good as feeling your hands on me." Emily countered back, purposefully arching her back to flush their chests together but whining in frustration when their corsets and dresses prevented them to feel anything.

"Yeah, it’s pretty much a tie." Y/N joked and thanked the door behind her back holding her up when Emily giggled on her mouth and the cute sound made her almost faint. "You are so beautiful." Y/N spoke up without even noticing as she stared at the poet with a loving gaze, creating goosebumps all over Emily’s skin.

"Not as much as you Y/N. That’s the first thing I thought that day at the well. I’ve always been fascinated by the beauty of the nature, but as soon as my eyes landed on you, it was like threes and flowers never existed. It was just you."

"Shit, do not say things like that." Y/N shook her head as she bit hard on her bottom lip while closing her eyes and leaning her forehead on Emily’s one.

"Why?"

"Because it makes me want to kiss you."

"Then why are you not doing it?" It was all the validation Y/N needed. After opening her eyes for a brief moment to meet Emily’s brown irises for confirmation, finding in them only affection and entertainment, she surged forward and captured Emily’s lips in a slow kiss, full of passion. Y/N decided to keep the kiss as chaste as possible to savor the softness of Emily’s lips, caressing her back with both hands to feel Emily’s every curve she could despite the dress and corset in her way, but when Emily’s fingers dug in the back of her neck to silently ask for more, Y/N whined softly into the kiss and immediately bit down gently on Emily’s lips. Y/N shivered at the poet’s whispered whine but took advantage of that to slip her tongue into Emily’s mouth and lick every angle she could reach. "Oh."

"Shit." Y/N murmured into the kiss when her mind finally stopped spinning from Emily’s moan and shivered wildly when the poet took advantage of Y/N’s dazed state to suck harshly on Y/N’s tongue, pulling a whine from her throat. After a few moments Emily had to pull away to take some needed breath, not too far away, just enough so their noses could brush together gently. "That was so fucking hot. And fuck- that sound." Emily giggled at Y/N’s murmured words, her eyes staring lovingly at the her and a dopey smile adorned her kiss-swollen lips, and she thought about how happy she felt in that moment.

"Ugh, I wish you could stay here all day." Emily admitted out loud after a few seconds of them basking in the comforting silence, the two girls just existing together, wrapped up in each other’s arms, with their forehead leaned together and with their breaths mingling, sighing out sadly and leaning into Y/N touch when she caressed her back comfortingly.

"I know, but your mother and sister will be back with my aunt soon." Y/N sighed out sadly, caressing Emily’s sides gently as she committed to mind every small detail she could.

"Yeah and Sue will be over in an hour. We still need to talk."

"She just wants her best friend back, Emily. Give her a chance to be a good friend. You two were friends before having what you two had."

"You’re right. I want to talk to her too. I want my friend back, but I just- want to spend more time with you."

"You will, tonight." Y/N nodded encouragingly and smiled widely to hope to make Emily do the same and when she did a few seconds later her own grin widened ten sizes.

"Do not forget we have the house all for ourselves on Thursday."

"Already trying to get under my dress Dickinson?"

"Maybe." Emily winked with a mischievous grin, making Y/N laugh heartily before kissing her gently and slipping out of her room.

144 notes · View notes

certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 4 months

Text

stalker!reader/unsub!reader for spencer reid

tw: mentions of blood, graphic descriptions of murder, usual CM gore, suicide.

-noticing him one day when he was at your job for a case asking questions about a victim/killer. i’m gonna say season 4 reid (before he gets shot in the leg). you were stuck to the shadows just observing him and his colleague when boom! his eyes meet yours and you feel a spark, your body tingles. he noticed you.

-he walks away from his colleague who was talking with your boss, towards you, hands in his pockets and this long wavy hair swaying with his motions. he stopped three steps away from you and said, “hello, i’m doctor reid, with the fbi. i was wondering if i could ask some questions about…” his voice was deep and smooth, he pulled you into a hypnotic trance. you just nodded and answered his questions honestly.

-he came back a second time, just saying that the case was over. that was it, you weren’t even personally involved, but he came back for you. he must’ve felt that same spark, that pull to someone magnetic. he even gave you his card and said, “if you even are in area or in need of help, just ask for me.” now how could you not be obsessed with that man after that.

-so you started to follow all the cases the fbi or bau was mentioned, hoping for a glimpse of the names spencer or dr. reid. you kept a folder of photos captured of him from news footage or newspaper articles, red inked hearts circled his head while anyone else was harshly scrubbed away in black ink. his gentle smiles or lovely eyes pierced at your heart each time, it was slowly bleeding into your lungs filling you up to suffocation. you need spencer reid.

-when cases went quiet you started to search relentlessly for him online. you forced yourself to ingest every thesis paper he’s ever written and watch any lecture that was posted. he drew you in with the wave of his hands or how he would ramble then bring himself back to the topic at hand. how you wanted to pick his brain, just sit and listen to him for hours taking about anything he’s stored away.

-it’s been a year since that case. you miss him, you want him in your grasp. maybe you should put that business card to use and just call it, that’d be a lot easier. so you mustered up the courage, pulling the card from your wallet and dialing his number you breathed slowly and pressed call. the line rang three times before it picked up and you heard his voice, “dr. reid, how can i help?”

“uh, this is y/n…” he said he’d remember you so you just gave your name for recognition. the line was quiet for three seconds and you could hear some faint chatter on his end before he responded, “i’m sorry, i- i don’t seem to-“ and you hung up the call before he could break your heart further. he lied.

-it was like you just went through a breakup for a relationship that wasn’t even real. your bleeding heart completely cracked and spilled like fire through your veins. spencer reid is going to regret ever forgetting you and his promise. so you started to do some studying, researching past cases with the bau involved, looking for inspiration from convicted killers

-you find some that were unique but still easy to accomplish with your own physic in play. most of these killers were men, stronger and taller than you. you start to craft your calling cards, poems and roses, anything symbolic to a relationship and heartbreak. you’re nervous your first night on the hunt. you decide to go a bar and wait for someone to make their way into your web.

-you’d dance on them and kiss them, closing your eyes shut and imagining this it what spencer would taste like, how his hands trailing over your curves would release butterflies in your belly. his breath ghosting along your pulse before sucking a bruise into your skin. “wanna get out of here?” seductive eyes watching your toy nod and drag you behind him out the club, heading to his place.

-the make out session was hot and getting steamy, pushing him in the direction of his bedroom. you played the kinky card, “gonna tie you up and gag you, be a good boy.” left in nothing but his boxers he was bond and gagged. playing a teasing game you left him alone while looking for some type of weapon. pulling a pair of black gloves from your clutch and the pointiest knife from a drawer you dragged yourself back to his bed, straddling him at the waist, keeping your hands behind your back. “you’ve made this night very special. wanna know why?” playing coy while pulling the gag down from a second.

the toy cocked a brow with a shit eating smirk, “of course, doll face.” his eyes dropping to your chest and it caused you to grimace. “you’re the first victim of many.” whispered as you slid the fabric back into his mouth

“wait wh-“ muffled when you stabbed him with an angered forced into his heart. his screams were still loud but with music playing in the background and his mouth full, no one would be the wiser.

-you called in sick for the next few days, needing to be consistent for the bau to be called in. you’d go to clubs or even strip clubs, any place that’d have willing men bring you home preying on you while you were the pretender. you kept the killings pretty simple, just stabs to the heart and letting them bleed out, you started to draw heart on their walls from their blood, the red turning black when drying. and finally before leaving a folded note with a poem or a piece of your soul written out was safety pinned to their skin.

-the news started to call you ‘the heartbreak killer’ stupid, but they always wanted to give killers case names. adding a new flare to your lastest kill, you’ve scattered red and white rose petals over their body and a ruby red kiss to their cheek. your fifth victim in a week period. you had a hunger for it now, killing gave you an adrenaline rush that was better than any rollercoaster or scary movie, you vibrate with excitement each night. you started dressing more bolder, wearing wigs even, making sure you stood out for anyone that was connected to your toy of the night.

- “we’ve called in the fbi behavior analysis unit to help us find this serial killer. with them here we plan to catch them before there is another victim.” goosebumps scattered over your forearms hearing the sheriff’s announcement. finally, he’s here. your spencer reid came for you. “in do time, my love. we’ll be reunited properly.”

-you took a sixth life the night they arrived, wanting them to know your usual stalking grounds. it would be easier to ‘accidentally’ bump into spencer, rather than actively search him out. so the next day you dressed down, wanting to look more normal, become a wallflower. you were nursing a drink in a shaded corner with watching eyes surveying the crowed hoping to see the tall dr. reid. “uh, excuse me, miss.” your heart skipped a beat, it recognized his voice even over the thumping music rattling your skull.

you turned his way casually and said, “you’re very pretty,” sipping on the black straw of your soda. spencer smiled hesitantly and floundered for a response, “uh tha- thank you. i’m dr. spencer reid i work with the fbi-“ he flashed his badge and you caught a glimpse of a younger photo, “there’s been a series of murders in the area and we suspect the killer visits here. have you seen anything suspicious lately?”

your nostrils flared, he still didn’t remember you not even face to face. “well all men are suspicious in clubs,” dulled chuckles at your retort. you saw spencer’s eyebrows quirked, “are- are you by yourself?” he sounded concerned for a stranger, but you weren’t a stranger. “yeah, my friends left me a few hours ago but i just didn’t want to go home yet.” shrugging him off.

he licked his lips, “well i’d suggest not visiting his establishment for the time being.” “but all her victims are men, so i’m safe. but thanks for the concern, nice to meet you doctor.” and you left the crowded bar with a smirk knowing you gave him a hint.

-you went to work the following day, just telling your coworkers you came down with food poisoning and needed and extra day to recover. they cooed over you but you knew most of them didn’t care, its fine you weren’t planning to stay here forever like most. you were cleaning tables and fixing displays when there was a tap to your shoulder. brittany, a coworker, pointed over her shoulder and said, “there’s a spencer reid here to see you. says he’s with the fbi.” you had to repress your smile.

“dr. reid, pleasure to see you again.” a welcoming smile and open posture. he cocked his head, “i- i remember you. from last year…” it’s like you could see his gears turning and clicking things into place. you didn’t bother denying anything just saying, “wow, what a great memory you have.”

his round eyes stared into your soul, “eidetic memory. you called me a month ago…” now you showed confusion, “no i didn’t. sadly lost your card, but i’m safe. we should have dinner while you’re here.” being bold.

spencer nodded his head, “that sounds nice. tomorrow night works for me, i could meet you here.” he seemed excited to have a romantic date with you. your heart raced, “it’s a date.” and you headed back to your work.

-you changed into date appropriate clothing once you clocked out and waited five minutes outside before you saw the tall spencer reid walking up to your side. he had a sweater vest over a button up with a tie around his neck, his gun wasn’t holstered to his hip for the night and his hair was a bit wind swept. you could eat him up.

“bet you have a bunch of girls after you while away on cases.” walking beside him when he suggested an chinese restaurant just down the block. he chuckled, oh your heart stuttered at the melody, “not really. most people don’t like my… personality.” sneaking a glance at you.

“well they’re missing out, but happy since i’m the lucky girl at your side.” looping an arm through his and pulling his close so you could lean your head onto his bicep. “i’ve dreamed of this since you left.” sighing into the air then pressing a kiss to his fabric covered skin, later you’ll get to taste him.

- “i have a question for you.” it’s been an hour into your date, stomach filled with delicious food and effortless conversation. you nodded at spencer to go forward. “at the bar you said the unsub was a women, what made you think that? no sex has been mentioned in the news yet.”

you pursed your lips in thought, “well, stabs to the heart seems emotionally personal. and the hearts in blood and rose petals, along with her leaving love poems. only a hopeless romantic that was horribly heartbroken would do this art.” slurping noodles into your mouth for punctuation. you weren’t trying to hide your truth, “it was the only way to get your attention.”

- “my attention?” spencer questioned. “well, i’ve missed you and when i tried calling-“ “so that was you.” “and you lied about remembering me!” slamming a fist onto the tabletop forcing it to shake. you leaned in close, “i thought we had something special. you didn’t bother trying to reach me in anyway and i’ve stayed updated with your career.”

“i- im sorry, y/n. my job is just very demanding. i would’ve reached out. i- i didn’t think you felt the way i did.” spencer stretched a hand over the table and rested it atop yours, his long fingers curling along your wrist.

“oh baby, the spark when we first met was instant. i was devoted to you the moment our eyes met, i’d do anything for you.” allowing your other hand to creep up spencer’s arm. “i’d kill myself for you if you asked, i’ve killed for you. would you do the same for me?” doeing your eyes and pouting your lips.

spencer leaned forward, his eyes dropping to your lips then back to your eyes, “anything for you, my love.” whispered just between the two of you. you smiled wickedly, “wanna head to my place?”

-once your door was unlocked and open you pounced onto spencer, hands holding his cheeks so you could press your lips onto his. his palms gripped at your hips and pulled your flush to his chest as his mouth devoured yours, moans ripped from your throat.

“fbi! hands in the air!” heavy footsteps and loud shouts broke the air. you didn’t bother acknowledging them, just submerging yourself into spencer until his arms twisted you around and held you in a tight hug. “don’t fight them. stay alive for me.” spencer whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your temple.

-six months. you’ve been institutionalized for six months since your lawyer pleaded insanity to the court. said you did everything because you started to stalk and become obsessive with doctor spencer reid. you didn’t bother mentioning that the killings made you feel stable. you’ve been sentenced for twenty five years to life, chances of parole after fifteen years. your family rarely visited you, you didn’t care. you only enjoyed visitation when he was there.

“the doctor is here.” an officer pulled you from the library to bring you into the visitation center. nervously you fiddled with your hair, straightening your beige uniform, wanting to appear put together for your boyfriend. he wasn’t your actual boyfriend, but he allowed you to call him that.

“hi baby.” sidling into your seat across from him, a gigantic smile hurting your cheeks. he wore his standard outfit, sweater vest over a long sleeve button up, no tie today and his collarbones were on display for you along with his forearms. “you look very sexy today.”

“and you look quite pretty today.” spencer visits you once a week at most, sometimes twice if he’s already in the state for a case. you heard it was cause your psychiatrist told him that your symptoms were worse if he was gone for long periods at a time causing you to act out and harm yourself or others. but you know it’s cause he loves you.

“what book are you reading today?” jerking his head to the worn spine. you peered down at the titles with a twisted smile then looked him dead in the eyes, “romeo and juliet. quiet the love story don’t you think?”

#erin writes #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #stalker!reader #unsub!reader

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cuubism · 6 months

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some canon-verse trans Hob for the lovely @five-and-dimes who recently got top surgery! 🥳🥰 congratulations, I'm truly so happy for you, my friend. please accept this humble offering

“So, it actually started on a dare,” Hob says, on the day he tells Dream the story of him. Or of this part of him, anyway.

Normally, Hob gets a bit guarded the first time he tells someone he’s trans. It’s hard to predict with absolute certainty how people will react, especially ones he’s just become romantically involved with. He’s had it go poorly, to say the least, in the past.

He doesn’t feel that way with Dream. It’s not because there’s so much trust between them—they’re still new, after all. No, it’s something about Dream himself. For all his prickly and standoffish nature, being close to him feels like sinking into a warm lake, into a dark sleep where secrets and hidden wishes float up like glowing reeds to the surface. Deep, personal feelings feel safe with Dream; he cradles them in his hands and soothes them. Or that’s how it feels, when Hob is touching him.

Personification of dreams, indeed.

“A dare?” Dream echoes.

“Sort of," Hob says. "Got frustrated with people saying women should or shouldn’t do this or that or the other thing, so I decided if they felt so strongly about it I’d just be a man. Moved somewhere no one knew me, dressed differently, got stronger, practiced the sword—and that was that. No one seemed to care much, once you were at war. So long as you could swing a sword and not get yourself killed.”

“A choice, then,” Dream says. He’s listening very intently, hands folded on his knees, untouched tea on the coffee table before him.

“At first. Was only after I’d been living that way for a few decades—before and after we met—that I realized while there might be a handful of women out there living as men for the freedom of it, that they didn’t all like it. Given the choice they’d rather just be women in a more equal world. You know?”

Dream hums in understanding.

“But I didn’t want to go back,” Hob continues. “I felt like... who I'd become was the truth of me all along.”

“Identity, while not wholly immutable, is resilient against adversity and circumstance,” says Dream. “You found what your heart wanted you to be, if in a circuitous manner.”

“You seem very unbothered by it,” Hob observes, sipping his tea.

Dream frowns. “Why would I be bothered by it?”

“Dunno.” Apparently he can’t fully shake that this’ll put a wedge in us feeling. “People sometimes are. Feel deceived, or something like that. So they say.”

“If they are deceived, it is by their own assumptions,” Dream says, with disdain. “You should be as you dream yourself, Hob. No more nor less. Put aside these petty physical trappings.”

“I do actually have to live in these ‘physical trappings’ even if you don’t, you silly thing.” He can’t help laughing. “Besides, I rather like being some kind of living creature in the world, rather than what? A ghost? Best I can do is make this body as close to how it should be as possible.”

Hob’s come to like his body, for the most part, in the form that he’s made it. He didn’t always. But he needs a body of some kind to be alive, and he likes being alive. So what he couldn’t change, he made peace with.

Besides, they have hormone treatments nowadays. Brilliant stuff. Makes it so much better.

“Anyway, now you know. I wanted you to. Since we’re together.” It’s still a marvel. Together.

“Thank you,” says Dream, with evident sincerity. “It is a privilege to be gifted your secrets.”

“Not really a secret, but I get what you mean.” He takes Dream’s hand, just to touch him, and admits, “Telling it to you is like… I don’t know. Feels like when I was younger and first admitted out loud, ‘I’m a man. I want to stay like this.’”

It hasn’t been a proper secret in a very long time. But giving it to Dream is like the freedom of releasing a held breath, even so.

“I am the harbor and cradle of dreams,” Dream says in reply. He traces his fingers over Hob’s. Does Dream’s strange form just spring from the ether? Hob wonders. Or does he have to choose it? The way Hob chose his? “Dreams of being and becoming… these are most precious for they grow from tough soil. I can only protect them, I cannot create them. You must do that. And I expect that were I to find you in the Dreaming, there would be a fantastic garden there, indeed.”

Dream himself is the most fantastical thing. “Well, darling, just know your work is appreciated.”

Dream’s lips tip up in a tiny smile. When he meets Hob’s gaze again, his eyes have gone dark and starry. He folds Hob into a hug, and—

oh, it’s like being hugged by the universe itself.

Hob feels the light breeze of a warm dark night, when he’d lain by the dying fire in a war camp in the French countryside, and looked up at a million stars and first whispered to himself what if this is really who I am? Dream is that breeze and those stars. The dying embers that had lit him as he’d run his hands over his body and felt it differently than he ever had before, and been terrified because what would it mean?—but also thrilled and alive. Dream is the night wrapping around him in that moment, the night that was listening to his dreams no matter how quietly he admitted them, Dream is that and more and the voice in his heart telling him it would be okay.

A younger, more uncertain Hob would have needed this. Hob now is older, and he already knows who he is and what he wants, but he falls into Dream’s embrace all the same. A tear slips from his eye, and Dream kisses his cheek, wiping the tear away with his tongue before leaning their heads together.

“I could craft you any body you wanted in the Dreaming,” he says lowly. “However I think the one you have made with your own hands is more remarkable.”

Oh, God, he’s going to tear up again. “Dream, you are the most beautiful, wonderful thing.”

Dream hums in pleasure at the words, and lets Hob hold him close, lets him cradle his head to his chest, a dream kept close to his heart. One that he knew as soon as he saw it walk into the White Horse. Sooner even than he truly knew himself.

Then Dream looks up at him with a hopeful expression. “With these truths revealed, are we able to be intimate?”

Hob laughs so hard he has to tip his head back against the couch. “Wow. One track mind with you, isn’t it? I spill my heart and that’s what I get?”

Dream grumbles, tucking his face in against Hob’s neck to press his lips to Hob’s throat. “I find myself impatient of late.”

“Knew all along you were only with me for my body.” He’s grinning, though. Can’t stop.

“Well. Considering it is such a lovely one.” He plucks at Hob’s shirt buttons. Lecherous little nightmare.

It feels fucking good, though, to be desired.

“C’mere, then,” he says, and drags Dream into his lap.

Dream settles there with a purr, starts playing with Hob’s hair, but says, “I would not truly derail this moment, nor distract from your feelings if you do not wish it.”

“Oh, I wish it. You’ve no idea how much I want you right now. You’re like a prize.” He cradles Dream’s beloved face between his hands. “Stick around for long enough and you’ll get the most incredible Dream at the end of it.”

“Or at the beginning,” Dream says, and Hob’s heart swells so much to hear him voice that that he has to kiss him.

When he does, Dream makes a low, pleased sound, settling deeper in his lap. Yes, this moment, this life, is certainly the prize for all of those years hanging onto those dreams:

the dream of his lover

and the one of himself.

#1389 hob: while you were busy with the gender binary i studied the blade #trans hob #dreamling #my writing #i think after this hob gets to ask his burning questions about how gender works for the endless and dream is just like [meme of marge #simpson holding a potato but it says 'trans and nonbinary people (except desire)'] 'i just think they're neat.#unrelatedly i did have to choose my gender--' and hob's just like 😐.........#[dream a known king of self awareness]#this is like sending someone a casserole when they get home from the hospital except the casserole is gay fanfic XD #a different kind of sustenance...#hope it's okay!! 🥺

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stuck-writing-sickos · 2 months

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In Poor Taste [p9.5]

(Yandere × Reader)

Series Link

[Warning: violence, explicit language]

(A/N: being physically ill from stress is something i am VERY aware of. At the same time, somehow everytime it happens i get so offended. Like "what do you MEAN it happens to me, too")

Antonement comes in many form, none of which you get to choose.

Yuki didn't realize that he inherited his father's temper.

Sure, he would fight when he was a schoolboy. They all did. But he grew out of it quick, since something about a fight outside of school uniform felt pathetic and juvenile. He liked to tell himself that he was too much of a man to throw kicks and punches, so he always stepped down and let other men win in arguments. He didn't care if he was called a wimp or a coward. After all, he had nothing to prove. He wouldn't be like his father who sought to dominate with violence. He was better than that.

Until he wasn't.

You were wet from head to toe, and so was Lukas who was hanging onto your legs, pale fingers turning red from the grip. The man's nails were digging into your skin as he cried so hard, he choked on air. Yuki couldn't think straight. He took in a breath and closed the door behind him.

You looked exhausted and disgusted, trying to kick Lukas off. Yuki had to give the moron that he was persistent: you were strong, but his desperation was somehow even stronger.

Squatting down to Lukas' level, Yuki tried his hardest to remain calm when he asked "what's wrong with you, Lukas?"

Lukas' face creeped him out. His lips were pulled into a strange smile, as if he was enjoying your distaste. Between tears and the dampness of rainwater, his green eyes were wide and thirsty, fixed on you while he craned his neck to get a better look. His pained sobs couldn't conceal well a low, excited chuckle he emitted with every kick he took from you. Yuki felt like he was watching a worm squirm inside an aquarium. He remembered during the experiment, his teacher had taught him that worms breathe through their skin, so they needed to keep themselves in moist dirt.

Something about the way Lukas is taking in your kicks so pleasurably reminded him of that trivia.

Grabbing him by the back of his collar, Yuki peeled him off of your leg and threw him on the floor. Getting atop of him, Yuki raised his fist and landed it on his stomach.

Lukas's body jolted upon the impact. His face soured into a frown as he returned the favor by punching Yuki square in the jaw. His hands took ahold of Yuki's hair as he held him back.

"Stay out of it, man", he bitterly spoke, "you've always been such a bother."

Yuki didn't expect this kind of strength from someone who had just been crawling to your feet a couple minutes ago. Still, his head may be in a lock, but his hands were free enough. Deciding that words wouldn't do justice, he wrap his fingers around Lukas' neck and forced him down. He felt his grip on his hair loosen when Lukas choked, trying to gasp for air, his hands now clawing at Yuki's skin. He was survival mode now, Yuki supposed, making notes to restrain his torso with his knees in case he get any burst of energy.

When he saw Lukas' eyes roll back, Yuki felt him shoulders being pulled backward forecefully.

Snapping out of it, Yuki released his hold and let Lukas lie on the floor, heaving from the shock. He wondered what he needed to do. What if this foreigner pressed charge? Maybe if he finished the job now...

"Lukas...", your voice were cold and weary, "can you hear me? Can you still speak?"

He nodded. Yuki's nose scrunched at the way his eyes got big and soft when he looked at you.

You kneeled down next to him, your face void of any emotions.

"I didn't want this to happen."

"No, it's okay", he shook his head and propped himself on his elbow, his voice hoarse and meek, "it's okay. You were right... I had too much to drink. I'm so, so sorry."

Yuki did not buy it. Lukas looked sober, and he sounded it, too.

"I didn't want to hurt you", he continued, lying through his teeth, "I was carried away. I just... I never figured out how to approach you, and I fucked up. I deserved this, I really did."

For a split of a second, his eyes met Yuki's when he spoke again: "It's no one's fault but my own, really."

You were silent, watching every movement in the room. It would be like you to stay cautious. Perhaps you were suspicious still, unsure what Lukas may do or say. He might seem earnest, but Yuki could tell the man's existence in itself was a farce.

"But it isn't a good look, is it? You were right... with all this bruises and the tussling, do you think they would talk?"- Lukas continued, feigned cluelessness splattering over his demeanor. Yuki felt his tongue souring upon that.

"What should I say?" - you spoke slowly, your voice calm but your eyes nervous- "that you cornered me and tried to force yourself on me? What I did was self-defense, what you did was assault. Would that look good on you?"

"No, it wouldn't. You'd come out spotless, and I the creep. But what about Sakamoto? Would he ride that clean boat with you?"

#yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere reader insert #male yandere #oc #in poor taste

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ravengards-rogue · 8 months

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[ cage training | astarion ancunin ]

✧ tags : muzzles, bdsm, sub!astarion, gender neutral + dom!reader, reader is strong (offers to carry him), dirty talk, orgasm control, feeding (?), cutting (for blood), anal (m!recieving), service dom reader, petnames (my star for astarion) a lot of alluding to hunger, more erotica than smut but 18+

✧ wc : 4.8k (what if all just kill ourselves)

✧ a/n : i dont even like this guy like this im just mentally ill about submissive men. also this is a very "read whats on the tin and make good choices" sort of fic.. i know this kind of play might be controversial for beloved white boy but they have a very loving dynamic Okay. Alright. its about Love.

ALSO. this is ASTARION FOCUSED. so reader doesn't cum (though astarion makes up for it as implied)

this is a fluke fic i cannot recommend following me for this guy!!!written mostly for a friend. had a lot of fun with this though!!!

✧ synopsis : astarion relearns manners and discipline. he's rewarded for his valiant efforts.

He comes to you wounded. Save from the scar on the curve of his spine, it's not a physical wound.

Astarion approached you like a caged lion, a circus animal - a predator paraded like a house cat who has only just remembered his teeth. That's why your empathy extended to his greed even when it caused him to wear the worst of himself. You don't think Astarion has ever understood the fact that he's hungry. He's always hungry.

He inhabits a body pushed to failure. His hunger cues are almost as ruined as he.

Like an animal in captivity, every choice he might've had to make slipped between his fingers for many years. How to live, how to hunt. Hunger is the hardest to remember, though it leaves the longest impression. It's a condition of a wounded mind. He had long since forgotten a body that knows a need stronger than staying alive.

He always waited for the violent gnawing to set in, the kind that can be ignored until it can't.

And so, his hunger became his ruin, became his new captor. Astarion met you in the midst of that delirium the first time

Once you let a captive predator free, you've damned it. A caged lion cannot become uncaged. Survival instinct has all but degraded to nothing, leaving only a wounded animal in its place.

You must nurse it to health. Care for it as it renavigates the world.

Curb its hunger when it threatens to wreak havoc.

Sanctuary. Regiment. Retraining.

It's easy enough to discern what he needs. All tender with wounds that need to be licked.

The muzzle is fitted. A gesture of glimmering gold adoration among the steely black of whips and chains.

Astarion is beautiful. Tenfold on his knees.

The leather straps pull back slight against his skin, three in total clipped together at the back of his skull. The thickest strap flattens sweet white curls, thinner ones curved around his ears and jaw.

The structured leather cage, reinforced with metal, rests over his nose and mouth. It fits better than you could've hoped. There's a collar around his neck to match it, with a weighted chain in your hand. He's looking up at you with a softened gaze, ruby red and lidded. Needy.

The velvet of the loveseat dips comfortably under your weight as you sit. Astarion stays where he is. He's as pleasant as he's capable of being, hopeful as he scoots in closer to you.

He succeeds in acting cute, naturally talented in the art of being appealing. He scoots himself close to your legs and positions himself to rest his chin on the edge of your knee.

You meet his eyes amused. You let your hand brush along the pointed shell of his ear. Little goosebumps form in the wake of your touch.

"You should know better by now that those sorts of tricks don't work on me, hm?"

He huffs. "Well that's not true. They usually do work on you. Rather well, I would say."

You pause, taken aback, before relenting with a laugh His pout endears you. You let your eyes narrow a bit in knowing.

"Not like this though. You know that very well."

His frown deepens. You really do adore him. He taps his forehead against your leg as you bite back a smile, his muzzle making the touch briefer than he'd prefer.

"Gods. Of course I know but this, this is torture, darling."

Pleasant and noncommittal, your hand cups his nape. You pet him wherever you can reach, his head before slipping along his shoulder and against your lap. You settle at his back, tracing over raised scars.

A sorrowful hum leaves your lips. Neither of you believe it.

"Torture? Perhaps I've gotten too soft if this is torture."

"Oh you're so awful," He huffs, biting his tongue and choosing to rest against your leg in frustration for a while longer. "Sure, fine - torture is too perfunctory. But it's been terribly difficult! Where is your sympathy."

"What's difficult, Astarion?"

You're being cheeky asking him. After all your rules have been clear and reinforced well for the two tendays that have passed. You've been working hard on reteaching him patience. He used to be so patient, back when you were exploring and unsettled but you've let him take too much and now he'll interrupt you at any moment just to get what he needs.

(Astarion leans on you for guidance. Of course, he has himself - has his freedom that he took with bloodied hands and a broken heart. There’s many choices that he’s able to make for himself, some of them he can’t explain even to you. Whatever they are, they’re his to make and yours to support.

It’s different though. Not having a choice, and someone making choices for him out of something inscrutable. You don’t bed Astarion until you fulfill the promise of killing his master. More accurately, you don’t lay so much as a hand on him. Only intimate, sparse touches. Only love. Only patience.

You’re disinterested in only having his body. His heart, and his mind, and his very soul - all of it. You want to grasp them so firmly and never let go. The chains and leashing and discipline are testament to what you want most of Astarion - and that’s all of him. You want to enrich him in every conceivable way. Astarion deserves the granular finery of thoughtful guidance more than anyone. He's brighter when he feels special, after all.

You’ve broken down the walls between you with a closed fist for this purpose - a not so quiet ask to love him by opening your hand. He’s given you the honor to let you think and act for him so he doesn’t have too. Duty binds you to reteaching him virtue.

It's a privilege to think for him. To wipe his bloodied mouth and care for his appearance prim and his mind sharp. No longer a matted beast but a loved, loved little vampire in the crook of your arms

You’re not strict to no end. You'd rip the Astral Planes apart in search of what he desires, should he ask it of you, after all.

Only the best for your immortal love. )

His neediness makes him more misbehaving. He’s been scaring away anyone who looks at you too long for business and otherwise, unable to keep his hand away from between your legs or his head in your lap.

"Not letting me drink your blood for two tendays is unreasonable enough but on top of that," He's exasperated just explaining the dilemma to you. His muzzle is cool against your pant leg. "On top of that I'm not even allowed any relief. Despite all of your cruelty, you wicked thing. I never took you for such a sadist."

He scoffs. There's poorly masked lust in the last sentence. You stop yourself from smiling.

"Sadist? Really? I don't see it that way. Seeing you act so desperately all this time and keeping my hands neat at my sides... I'm a paragon of patience." You pull on the leash in your hand but don't pull him forward - though you tighten your grip. "It's…good to lead by example."

Excitement flashes over his face in a short burst. It's so brilliant you swear his eyes look white instead of red.

"You cheeky little—" He huffs at you. You smile warmly as he starts to curl in on himself. He already knows how to get himself what he wants.

He gives up on pretenses. Briefly, just to beg, a monumentally hard thing. "Please. I can't take a minute more of this."

There's a croak to his voice. He has a hard time covering its tracks, even with his propensity for theatrics.

His throat is so thick with want. Something ripping at the seams of him and begging to be released.

"You've done well if it helps, but" You praise. He preens. Instantly. He squirms and wiggles around but doesn't move much more than that. "You act like I don't feed you."

"It is not the same, my love. You're well aware."

You ignore him.

"I even bring you human blood, don't I?" You tease, and his frustration darkens him. "I brought a beautiful and fresh body to drain just yesterday."

"Yes but," His hands turn to tight fists. He isn't sure what he wants to do with himself. You pet him a little more. "It's not the same, damn it. I want yours. Just yours. Just you,"

He adds the last bit quieter than the rest. Your expression is unchanged and cool though your heart might give you away with how hard it pounds.

"Just mine?" You tease. tugging at this leash a little. He makes a face like he's infuriated, a poor mask for embarrassment that endears you even more."Is that flattery?"

You're being a little mean this time. You'll make it up to him. He almost panics before he realizes just that.

"Gods you're insufferable," He complains with no bite. He's hoping for mercy you truly have no desire to give him. "You know that it's not."

"You speak so beautifully it sounds like it. Such sweet little noises you can make."

You let the heel of your boot press along Astarion's crotch. He makes one for you, involuntary - skin pink and sinful.

"See? How pretty."

Astarion is easy to bring to ruin as is. His own snark and disobedience is a poor disguise for that truth. A little tenderness and honesty makes him fall apart. Flirting back with Astarion goads him, though. Fuels his desire to win one over you. If you meet his cheekiness with more cheekiness, he won't relent at all.

Normally that kind of response would make him nip at you. It speaks to his desperation that it doesn't. That instead of making his own snarky remark, he tenses. A deep, shaky little breath. You could tip him over the edge through his clothes at this rate.

You're not so cruel. Not for today, at least.

"Sit up straight."

He does so without protest. You place a hand on his shoulder, the other one tight around the chain of his leash. Carefully, you drag your sharp nails down the front of his chest - leaving light pinkish marks on the pale skin. Over and over and over in light drags. His chest raises under the gesture, your nails scratching soft against his nipples.

"Hng," His voice is feather light. He's trembling at the slightest touch. His spine arches like he's trying to get more friction. "Don't you think you've proven your point?"

You let your palm drag down the smooth plane of his stomach, stopping at his pants. His cock twitches hard against the seam of his pants. You let a finger pull into the waistband, but don't go any farther.

"Not sure," You let the leash drop into your lap. You threaten to pull them down, but don't. Expression blank, you tilt your head to one side. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"My lesson," He repeats sarcastically. You feign innocence as you nod. "Really, darling?"

"I'm not so much of a tyrant," You let go, letting your hand cup the outline of his hard cock. "To torture you without reason, right? So what have we practiced?"

He stares. It must really be getting to him. "Patience."

"Yes. I ask you to be patient. Never kind, but patient. Because I'll give you anything you ask for if you wait. Things are better when you wait for them, right?"

He frowns in annoyance and disbelief. He's exasperated, rightfully - because you are messing with him. Just a little. "Right."

You squeeze his cock tighter. He hisses immediately, grinding into the touch. You blow hot air against his ticklish skin, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"So, have you learned your lesson?"

Your grip goes tight. Astarion craves the touch so badly. You doubt he's ever gone so long without anything at all - if the desperation he's rutting his hips with is anything to go by. His head drops heavy from his shoulders, his hands on the edge of the couch gripping for his life. Manicured nails digging into the cushion like it will save him. His voice is weary.

"Y-," He shudders but you don't let go. "Yes, I'm very sure I have."

"Oh, you're sure."

You enjoy bullying him. At a certain point, it bares itself out against all your own evading. Astarion knows it well enough, though normally it's through less truly intolerable means. Keeping him inside you soft or scraping orgasms one after another until he's too stupid too talk are favored between you.

Astarion likes being given a hard time, in general though. You're made for each other.

"Pretty little thing aren't you, my love?" You tell him, suddenly warmed. You miss the tadpole sometimes. If you could touch his mind right now, you would. Violate his thoughts with your own wants. You settle for a long stare. "So sweet,"

The anticipation makes his breath hitch. He goes completely limp in your grasp, weak and desperate. The weight of it all cracks and he looks up. His eyes glass over.

He shatters under his own need. "For the love of—please. I c-cant, I need to-"

"Shh." You quell him with a tender pet to his head. "You're looking at me so pitifully. Is it starting to be too much?"

He just nods. Your smile widens.

"You've been very patient for these two tendays, haven't you?" You lay it on thick. This is the part you like. You watch as Astarion goes boneless, the words reaching so deep into him he can do little more than collapse himself into your lap. You release all grips of him and let him hold against you soothingly, cling to your legs. "A very, very good boy for all this time. You're quite capable of it when you need to be, aren't you?"

He doesn't reply, but you can feel him melt into you further. For a minute you think you've broken him until you hear him mutter the softest yes you've ever heard.

(Astarion is not so easy to break, of course. And not so keen on opening up the softened wells of his heart to any stranger.

But he does break for you, and gods haven't you worked hard for that? It's a testament to all you've poured into him. Like you know all the right buttons to split him open tenderly.

And he lets you look. Touch and feel and cover your fingers with blood. He trusts you to stitch him closed.)

"Yes, that's right. You've learned your lesson now, and you're going to be proper and well-behaved because that's what good boys do. And Astarion is a very good boy. My very, very good boy."

He picks his head to look at you properly. He's darling. His face is flush, mouth turned into a soft pout and utterly, utterly desperate. His mouth is bitten, indented holes in soft lips.

"Yes, I'm. Please. I want you to touch me."

You aren't sure what you want to start with. He's being needy and you could almost feel guilty.

You pick up something from your side. A dagger from your days of travel. You unsheath it quickly, and let the blade cut along the tip of your middle finger. The blood comes quickly after, ruby red and thick.

Astarion goes wide eyed. He’s hungry, so hungry - like he always is. But there’s something defeated in the ways he hesitates that make you relish. You push your finger through the cage of his muzzle and tilt your head. There’s mirth in your eyes.

“Go on,” You say, tease, mock maybe. “Eat.”

He abandons restraint. All of it. You don’t make him work more for it. You push your finger down close enough for his mouth to lick at your wound and let your hand rest on the cage. He can’t get what he’s craving like this. The bone deep sensation starts to claw at him, a soft whimper tucked in the back of his throat.

More. He wants more. Of course he wants more.

“You look drunk.” You say, and there’s sharpness to your words. The ways in which Astarion is erotic have nothing to do with his theatrics. He is appealing when he’s giving up on everything but what he wants, always has been. “Have you missed it that much?”

“Yes.” He supplements, letting his tongue run over “More.”

You pull your hand away. “Take your clothes off.”

You watch Astarion scramble to stand. You bring your dagger with you then reach over to the table beside you. Scented oils roll around in the drawer. You’re careful with the blade as you fish out a bottle of it, taking it in your hands. Astarion stands naked, the heavy chain of his leash brushing against his skin.

“Kneel and lean on the couch, my love.”

Astarion is the picture of obedience. He leans on his elbows on the couch seats, with his legs spread apart, leash in a pool next to him as he folds his arms and tucks his face. You stand on your knees behind him, admiring his back in the lowlights.

Your hands rest on his thighs as you kiss up his spine. Small, short kisses all the way until you’ve reached the back of his neck. Your lips brush his nape, nose nudging against the metal of his muzzle.

Something overwhelms you. Addicting, euphoric as your clothed body drapes around Astarion, free hand on his waist - moving up his stomach to toy with his nipples. It thrums through you, listening to the ragged anticipation and distraught way he moves. Against you, against everything. Aching for touch.

You feel it overwhelmingly as you close in on his ear. Astarion huffs, long panting breaths. He needs this.

“Look at how naturally you yield to me now,” You all be coo. Astarion groans. Shuddering, your hand slides around his narrow waist and wraps a fist around his cock. He gasps. “You’ve become so pliable, so needy. But you know my star, I quite like when you’re needy.”

He hiccups and shivers and whines. “You’re the prettiest when you behave like the sweet little thing you can be, like I know you are. When you listen and yield and let me adore you in all the right ways. Such a sweet boy you can be, if only you let yourself.”

“Darling,” His voice cracks. There’s a helpless quality to it. A little more, that’s all you need. “I — you —”

You pull back and straighten your voice out, taking off Astarions muzzle after the valiant efforts he’s been making to wear it. It falls onto the couch unceremoniously.

“I’m saying, well done Astarion. I’ll reward you for all that effort. I’ll slash another scar in my hand for you to drink from and then again in the evening when I’ve recovered,” You lean back on your legs as you make promises on your own words. “I’ll bleed for you until you’ve sated yourself and let you get drunk on it. Then, when you’re malleable, I’ll fuck you. Again and again and again until you’ve all but forgotten yourself. All but forgotten who exactly you behave for.”

You open the oil and let it drip onto his back, watching mesmerized as it slips against every curve and crevice. When there’s enough to make opening him up easy, you stop and reach for your dagger.

The weapon slashes over the same wound. You’ve done this tens of times now. You don’t let the scars heal with a potion or some kind of spell. Astarion is far from the comfort of romance, but it is its own promise. Your scar is his.

The pain is brief, but it’s enough to feel it. You don’t flinch, though. When the blood finally seeps from it, you find yourself over Astarions back once again.

You let your bleeding palms clamp over his mouth. It’s as close to sacred as you can forge between you. Astarion moans. It is shameless. Pitchy, high with want and utterly broken. He laps at the blood like a dog, his tongue sharp against the familiar wound. You can feel his body twitch beneath you, the muffled sounds of his voice.

There is no performance in that kind of pleasure, but the amount of arousal that spikes Astarion’s whole body never fails to surprise you.

When he’s feeding from you, you busy your other hand with fucking him open on your fingers. Your dominant hand slips down the smooth curve of his spine, oiled skin soft and cool under your palms. He’s built like a dancer, beautiful curves. He’s a little softer now that he eats well. It looks good on him.

You let your middle finger brush over his hole, relishing in the soft gasp he lets out as you do. Astarion’s aroused enough to accommodate you as you circle it. The tight ring of muscle is familiar, and welcoming to your touch. You don’t need to teach Astarion to breathe, don’t need to remind him of it. You can feel his whole body push along your hands as if urging you towards him. You’re too delicate about the matter for his time.

Astarion is warmer inside than he is out. It fascinates you, makes your own stomach churn with want as your middle finger curves slowly. You pump in short motions until the resistance is all but gone. When you’ve made it as far as the knuckle of your middle finger, you start to search. You curl and press yourself against soft insides, search and search for what you’re looking for.

Astarion lurches forward when you find it. The most pitiful little moan you’ve ever heard squeaks out from his lips, against your hand.

“That’s it, isn’t it? Right there?”

Astarion makes noncommittal noises as you repeat the process again. Another finger, your ringer - spreading him open. Tight hole giving into your touch, filling him. Your mouth kisses the skin that you can reach. You peck and bite along the curve of his shoulders and all over his back as your ring finger penetrates him. His insides soften as you find your pace.

You see his hands start to fidget, but you chide him before he can do it.

“Not yet. You can touch yourself when I tell you too. Not before.”

Astarion needs more than this. You’ll give it to him, but patience is the virtue here.

You don’t know how long that’s going to stick though. The way Astarion is shaking underneath doesn’t give you confidence he’s going to hold out long enough for you to take him apart like you want. You’ll give him something proper later, when he’s not so pent you think the slight brush of skin could make him cum.

You do, desperately, want to see Astarion cum. But it has to be done the right way, or everything would go to waste in a single moment. You fuck him open on your fingers with a pinpoint pressure and accuracy, gauging his every move with the little gestures of his body. You know perfectly, know every inch of him inside and out like a book you’ve read page to page with the corners turned. The way he sways, lays intimately on the edge of cumming but never quite pushing himself over the finish line, speaks to that.

That, and the way he licks the blood from your palm like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted in his life. You can feel it, how messy it is - lapping at the split wound. Sharp unruly teeth digging into your skin, the soft breath of his nose tickling your hand as you cup his mouth. He licks so fervently, like it’s mouthwatering enough to die for.

It doesn’t help the arousal between your legs. It’d be damning for him to know how affected you are by this. By him.

“My beautiful boy,” Your voice is thick with desire. You can’t help yourself, the low possession laced it in. “Fucking perfect,”

“My love,” The words muffle against your palm. You move your hand away to let him speak and his face moves instinctually to bury himself back in it. “P-please. Let me touch myself, it aches,”

You weigh it for a minute, watching his body lurch forward as you fingerfuck him. You make a noise in the back of your throat, dropping your forehead against his spine - adrenaline making sweat drip down the crown of your head.

“Poor thing. Aches does it? Touch yourself for me, Astarion. I want to see you make a mess.”

He groans, hands moving immediately to fist his cock. You can hear it, the sound of him fucking his own fist like a wet, welcoming hole - cock wet and dripping with prespend. Astarions whole body starts to fall limp. His face pushed into the seat, little wet sobs spilling from his lips as he swears over and over.

It doesn’t take any time for his body to give into the feeling of being pleasured from all angles. You feel his face nudge against your hand for blood as his muscles start to go tighter and tighter.

“Shit,” He huffs, pushing himself back into your hands. “I’m going to cum.”

You keep your other hand in place, pace steady.

“Cum for me, baby. That’s it, easy does it.”

It happens so quickly you’re not sure if you should be impressed or if you should laugh affectionately. You can feel it, the way his hips stutter to a stop, his whole body grinding against you and holding tight to whatever he can cling to for purchase. His body weakens under the weight of your own, going completely tight like a bowstring before falling utterly helpless. Astarion moans loud when he cums, thick white ropes of it dressing the upholstery of the couch and falling to the floor. It’s an impressive amount. Save for what lands on the velvet, it pools thick and heavy. There’s so much, it’s like he can’t stop cumming. At least a minute passes before the twitching ceases.

He lays there, ragged and weightless and limp. You take your hand away from his mouth and slowly ease yourself out of him as he stays and catches his breath. You press soft, warm pecks up his spine.

You move away from him to give him some space to breathe, sitting back criss-cross on the ground. Astarion has no intention of getting up on his own, though. Before you can make sense of it, he crawls over to you. He must be worn out, given how willingly he’s coming into your arms in pure exhaustion. His cock is spent, soft against his belly and pink. He’s still naked and leashed.

Still needy, but the lust has subsided if only a little. Astarion seats himself between your open legs. You laugh lightly, letting him rest in your side - face in the crook of your neck in utter exhaustion.

“Hero of Baldurs Gate this, savior of the city that. I know evil when I see it, darling. Just outright cruel.”

You break out into a laugh at the change in behavior as he pulls away to look at you. His eyes are remarkably watery.

“That claim is undermined by that mess you’ve made on the floor there. Did you enjoy yourself?”

He almost looks embarrassed by it, a pinkish tint turning the tips of his ears bright.

“You’ve given me two terrible choices. I say yes and you think it’s a clever idea to do it again or I say no and I never experience whatever that was again in my life. A lose-lose situation.”

“So you did enjoy it,” You say warmly. Astarion scoffs but doesn’t protest. “I’m glad. You’re very attractive when you’re pitiful.”

“What despicable taste. I’m beautiful irregardless.”

You let your head bump against his, and Astarion half-heartedly returns the gesture. “That’s true. A sight for sore eyes as they say.”

“If you’re true to your word then I’ve earned a little more than just one,” Astarion purrs. Before that, he examines your (still bleeding hand) and picks your palm up to kiss. You grin wildy at his tongue lapping over the wound. “And you’re properly pent up, aren’t you? Let's get this cleaned up and let the real fun begin.”

“Aren’t you insatiable today? As you wish, my prince. We can move upstairs.”

He bemoans this. “You’ll have to drag my undead body up there if you’re asking me to get on my own two feet.”

“Or I could carry you like a bride.”

“A bride? How ostentatious. I’ll allow it.” Astarion says, then adds more quietly. “But we can stay… here a little longer first.”

You hum against his skin, peppering his face with soft kisses; he doesn't turn you away from the skinship, which you’re pleased by. “Of course my love,”

He lays in your arms quietly and the thought reaffirms itself. You’d do anything for him.

✧ a/n : no one is more upset by the length of this than me. trust and believe this. also sorry for the yapping i just... posting this is so foreboding. it feels like that picture of spongebob who puts his hands up so a car doesn't fall on him. i am Afraid.

maybe ill write a part two of him eating box or something. we'll see. anyway thanks for reading </3. please do rb if you enjoyed. so scared to be in the tags for this.

#rogues love letters #bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #astarion smut #bg3 smut #baldurs gate x reader #what other tags..idk..#this fucking thing cooked me to death i hate this guy BOOO throws tomatoes at him #zeros.dr #sub astarion

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beefslipper · 2 months

Note

Hello! sorry to bother you again. But this thought came to me at 2 am and I need to see your writing on it. How do you think hsr men show their affection? I know Dan Heng would be a man of service but Jing Yuan? Is he going to be like Dan Heng or more open about it? 🤔.

Anyways, I'll be there to eat up the masterpiece. Stay hydrated and Thank you! 💜

Don't apologize! :D

I'll try to do ALL the male characters, excluding MC and Duke Inferno. I thought about it but decided against it cuz AAAAAAAAAAAA. I'm going to cry like a baby if I forget any. Since there are 17 men (I think, I'm half asleep) I'm gonna number them in alphabetical order and just. Go with it.

Argenti

Argenti would do everything humanly possible for you. Whatever love language you're most comfortable with, he's doing that all for you and you only.

You like physical affection? Whenever you're okay with it, he's holding your hand, giving you kisses, doing whatever makes you feel best.

You like verbal affirmations? Bro isn't hesitating to never shut up about everything he loves about you (P.S., it's everything).

Gifts? Be prepared to get something from him every time you see each other. He's not gonna hold back at all for the person he loves most.

Arlan

Dude's 100% a cuddler. Spending hours with you is his way of showing he cares. He isn't just asking to cuddle to avoid his responsibilities, he willingly spends lots of time with you (and gets yelled at for doing that instead of doing what he needs to).

However, if you're alright with doing little tasks with him, he's bringing you with. You two often walk Peppy together or go to deal with anything that won't get you hurt. You could be like 20 times stronger than him and he'd refuse to 'let you risk getting hurt'. Lol.

Aventurine

You already know this peacock's buying you everything you want. That cute dress you saw in a shop window? All your's. A new pair of earrings that you don't really even need? Dawg you're getting that and like 50 other pairs. That one perfume everybody's talking about? He's buying the whole company for you.

However! Behind closed doors, he's all about physical affection. Whenever it's just the two of you, he's always clinging to you like a sloth.

Blade

No Gif for Bladie cuz Tumblr asked if I was suicidal LOL

Bladie would seem like he hates you in public. Like you killed his pet dog when he was 6 and has hated you ever since type stuff. But when you're alone, he LOVES physical affection. Mostly receiving it, but he's definitely sure to make you feel loved, too. Whenever he's not feeling too good, he sends you little gifts to show he cares since he's not good with his words.

In short, he'd be extremely dedicated to loving you if he didn't have such a negative relationship with love.

Boothill

He loves using his words because he comes up with the craziest affectionate names for you. Some that have your eyes popping out of your skull before you even have a chance to get blushy over 'em.

Besides that, it depends on what kinda person you are. Yapper? He's more than willing to sit there and listen to your voice. He'll try to pay attention but it's a 50/50. Listener? He's always got something weird or interesting to tell you.

Dan Heng

He likes physical stuff the most but to an extent. He refuses to do anything bigger than hand-holding and small, quick kisses while in public. He REALLY shows his love behind closed doors to make up for it.

However. If someone's bothering you in public, he's gonna unintentionally do that 'don't worry kitten, daddy's gonna protect you' thing. He'll be mean mugging the person while holding you because he hates seeing you so uncomfortable from random weirdos.

Dr. Ratio

BATHTUB GIF RATIO SCREAMS

As much as I hate 'tsunderes' from cringey 2020 stuff, Ratio's one of them. He'll call you the most offensive names you've ever heard as he makes you the most godly, perfect-tasting meal you've ever had.

Once the two of you have gotten close enough, he'd probably allow you in that stupid bath of his, but if you dare to try any NSFW stuff while he's reading, you're getting a thick-ass book to the head.

Gallagher

Words and physical affection. Yk that one image of the two blank characters swapping spit? That's you and him whenever you come up with some comeback to one of his teasing compliments.

Anyways, he'd always be holding you while in public. Anyone dares to express concern about it? Bro's throwing haymakers (reference).

Gepard

Geppieeee :D Although I wanna do Geppie, I've done some HCs on him on a different post (excuse for me to be lazy LOL)

Imbibitor Lunae

A plankton drooling and screaming yes gif came up when I searched his name sjfjkldsjf

IL would spoil you with gifts. He'd always be off doing his weird dragon shit, so he'd send gifts from where ever he was. You could get sea shells or flowers that somehow stay fresh for ever. You could even get hairpins or clothing.

He isn't big on physical affection only because I'm sure you'd be obsessed with touching his tail and 'horns'?. Whatever, he's not letting that happen lol.

Jing Yuan

Physical affection 100%. When he's cooped up indoors doing work, he brings you with him and has you sitting within arm's reach at all times. Or in his lap if you're especially clingy.

He'd try to be verbally affectionate, but he'd use a weird nickname once and forever be embarrassed by it so that's out the window.

Luka

Me rn omg the brain juices are running lower as this post goes on, I'm sure you can see the effort decreasing. My apologies for that.

Luka's probably physically affectionate and really wants that treatment from you, too. I can't imagine how sore he must be, bro punches robots and big-ass monsters all day.

I'm sure he'd also give you gifts and whatnot, but physical stuff > anything else.

Luocha

I feel like he'd switch constantly. Without warning. One day he's all happy and clingy and the next he's super distant but leaving you gifts like he's about to leave. He doesn't even have a real reason behind this other than he doesn't know which is easiest for him.

Misha

NAUR I GOT TRAUMATIZED BY THE GIFS SFLKJSKFJF :(

He'd be all about gifting. I only say this 'cuz of the little side stuff about him having a buncha candy and other little souvenirs. He'd definitely get you something if it reminded him of you.

Sampo

I couldn't help myself the gif was too tempting I'm sorry

He'd always be stealing random crap for you. He'd even use his beautiful persona to get you the more expensive things you want.

Besides that, I'm sure he uses lots of verbally affectionate words with you and makes sure you know how much he loves you. Even if he constantly dresses up as a beautiful woman to distract another man LMFAO.

Welt

Literally all of the above. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you. You need to be held? You're already in his lap. Craving anything? Bro's learning how to make it for you as we speak. Need to hear someone tell you that you're worth something? He's got a big-ass 36-page love letter for you already.

Yanqing

Physical 100%. He doesn't know how to use his words without turning into a blushing tomato. He'd rather hold you for hours on end than try to compliment you. He loves so much about you that he's physically incapable of coming up with a compliment.

BONUS BOYSSSSS

no more gifs omfg my computer gonna explode

Jiaoqiu

Gifts and verbal stuff definitely. He'd spoil you with your favorite food and would always compliment you to the point it seemed like he had endless compliments stored away for you alone.

However, you're getting thwacked with a spoon if you dare to try and touch his tail or ears. Cuddles and hugs are a-okay, but touching the sensitive parts? N O

Moze

He loves physical stuff... Ignoring his VA's crimes.

He'd probably spend a chunk of the day cuddling you and refusing to get out of bed. Whenever he's not cuddling you, he's making origami things of your favorite animals until you have an army of them, varying in size and color.

Screwllum

Definitely a gifter. He's always making new things to give to you. However, when he makes new inventions, he forces the MC to play with it to ensure it's absolutely safe before it gets into your hands (You're gonna find a way to break it and set everything on fire no matter what LOL)

Sunday

FINALLY THE LAST ONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

He sends you expensive gifts, but before he really got to know you and what you want, he'd be sending some weird stuff. Like a cat killing a bird and leaving it on your porch for you or something.

Over time, he got better about his gift choices. He probably goes to Robin to beg for advice on what to get you next.

Holy breaking and entering Batman! That's a lotta yap. And gifs. Good lord the gifs. My computer's hardly alive. I'm hardly alive.

Well, despite the decrease in quality and effort over time, I hope you enjoyed the HCs!

Have a great day, evening, and/or night! :)

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positivelybeastly · 2 months

Note

Hey there! The post you made about the core of a well written Hank McCoy inspired me to ask if you'd be willing to do a similar deep dive into Hanks various relationships over the years. Not in a shippy way in so much as a pros and cons of the relationships ( all relationships have them , even good ones) and how they reflect on and influence Hanks character over time.

Hello hello! I would indeed be willing to do a deep dive, and, at the same time, find out if Tumblr text posts have a word limit! I also realised maybe 20 characters in that you meant actual. Relationships, as in romantic, and I've done just. Basically. All of his relationships. Including platonic ones. Oops. Oh well, hope you enjoy!

These won't be quite as exhaustive as if you asked me about a particular relationship, since I always work best with plenty of image resources and I already know I'm going to hit my image limit early, but I hope I can give at least my general thoughts on how Hank has influenced and changed, and been and influenced by, the following characters.

Edna and Norton McCoy

X-Men Unlimited vol. 1 #10, 1996.

You have to start all the way back at the beginning, and Hank's relationship with his parents is crucial to understanding why he is the way he is. Hank is the by product of a radiation accident that nearly killed his father, which led to the odd nature of his mutation - namely, that it manifested at birth in the form of abnormally large hands and feet.

This was, in many ways, the best case scenario that Edna and Norton could have hoped for, that their child not miscarry, be stillborn, or be born with a disability that would massively impact his quality of living - this was a very real possibility for them. So Hank being the way he was, actually stronger, more agile, and more dextrous than a normal child, and not to mention a genius intellect even at a young age (not related to his mutation, but it certainly didn't hurt) created a bit of a miracle baby effect.

They were unremittingly supportive and loving - they supported his choice in academics, they supported his football career, they supported his choice of girlfriends, they pushed him to be the best that he could be but never put undue pressure on him. He grew up feeling like he could do anything he wanted to, if he simply chose to.

The worst I can say about this relationship is that you could view it as fostering his ego - perhaps if they had tamped down on his ambitions a bit, maybe he never would have turned himself blue and furry in a fit of 'I know better than everyone else,' but I think that's a lot to put on his parents, honestly. He made that decision, and he has no-one to blame but himself for making it. Blaming his parents for that is like blaming your parents for daring to make you believe you can grow up to be somebody - like, what's the alternative, making you believe that you'll never be anybody? Horrible way to parent.

There's a bump in Marvel Team-Up #124 (1982) where Edna freaks out about her child growing up to be a superhero and more physically obvious mutant, but it's resolved when Hank proves himself to be a man of caliber and altruism, putting himself in harm's way to save a child - proving himself to be the boy that Edna raised, and she returns the favour, putting her life at risk to save him from Professor Power.

He may not be the CPA or 'normal' genius she may have wanted, but he's still brilliant, and she realises that quickly. I also think it's notable that Norton, his father, doesn't go through a similar patch, which is attributable to the fact that he sees Hank's mutation as his 'fault', as you can see in the panels above - he can't exactly blame Hank for being who he is, he's explicitly responsible for it. It would be the height of ridiculous for him to come down on Hank for who he is, when who he is is a direct result of Norton's act of heroism.

In many ways, Hank can do no wrong in his parents' eyes - but in many ways, Hank never does do wrong by his parents. He makes their lives comfortable and improves on it in a lot of ways with his intellect, and he keeps them safe as best he can. They're a little disappointed they aren't grandparents when we last hear from them in 2018, in the X-Men Christmas Special, but they're still defensive of him and love him, even though he's changed for a third time.

Charles Xavier

X-Force vol. 6 #20, 2021.

You knew this one was coming. You'll note that this is one of the few times that I'm going to use something from Benjamin Percy's X-Force in this deep dive, mostly because it's one of the few times that Percy comes close to examining who Hank is and why he is the way that he is. It's one of the few times in X-Force that anyone asks, why is Hank doing what he's doing? Why is he committing these actions?

Because, in many ways, he's still chasing Charles Xavier's approval.

Charles does Hank maybe the biggest disservice of any of his original X-Men, save maybe Scott - while he plucks Scott out of an abusive home and then moulds him into a soldier for his dream, pretty much completely failing to give him any coping mechanisms for what that's going to do to Scott's relationships with other people and his ability to maintain a normal life, Charles plucks Hank out of a loving home, and cuts him off from it. He telepathically wipes Hank's parents' mind of his existence for a while, to 'protect' him, but really, he's isolating Hank, and installing himself as a father figure.

Whether he realises he's doing this or not is immaterial, because it's canon, as established in Marvel Presents #85-92 (1991) and reaffirmed in X-Men Origins: Beast (2008). And though Hank doesn't appreciate it, on some level hates Charles for it forever, he falls for it, because he is a fundamentally altruistic person who knows he has a responsibility to use his intellect and his mutation to make life better for other people - this is the canon reason he joins the X-Men, and it's important to remember that, because he has no need of training to foster his gifts like Jean or Bobby, and he has a home, unlike Scott. In many ways, he's actually most like Warren, but we'll get to that.

There are moments where Hank separates from Xavier, most notably in Uncanny X-Men #8 (1964) and Amazing Adventures #11 (1971), and it's significant that the latter split leads to, arguably, the best years of his life, where he's freest to be who he wants to be and enjoy his life. He joins the Avengers and the Defenders, he becomes a sex symbol, he feels comfortable in his own skin, he explicitly feels no pressure to use his intellectual gifts, and instead is, arguably, most himself.

It's especially interesting when you consider that even with all that in mind, he still matures and grows up and realises, independently of Xavier, that he still has a responsibility to help - but rather than being inorganically forced to take on that role by a man he doesn't know, he realises it in New Defenders #142 (1985) when a mutant activist calls him out on his immaturity and his lack of forward momentum.

Hank self-reflects, and self-actualises, and forms a grassroots mutant political activist group called M.O.N.S.T.E.R (Mutants Only Need Sensitivity, Tolerance, and Equal Rights), which is something that Charles would NEVER do. Its emphasis on elevating mutants everywhere, rather than focusing on providing examples of mutant heroism like the X-Men, is unique, and I really do wish we'd gotten to see more of a grass roots approach to mutant politics. But.

Then, Hank gets pulled into X-Factor, and all of that goes away. Then, he gets pulled into the X-Men, and his life becomes smaller. And smaller, and smaller, and smaller. And his life becomes worse, and worse, and worse. Eventually, he hits the point where Charles is handing him an Infinity Stone, and consigning him to joining the Illuminati in his stead, and Hank doesn't want to be there, but he feels obligated to, because this was Charles' last wish, his literal will and testament, and he can't say no to that. But he should've. Because it tortures him, and it all ends up being for nothing anyway. Thanks, Chuck.

That being said, I think one of the most telling depictions of Hank and the Professor's relationship actually comes from Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #12, where Scott is dressing down the Professor for enslaving Danger. Something I really appreciate about that scene is that it highlights how different Hank and Scott are in their relationship with Xavier.

Perhaps because Scott grew up with an abusive parental figure in Jack Winters and Hank grew up with very loving parents, Scott was able to recognise Charles' toxic behaviour and break away from Xavier - it might also have had something to do with the fact that at least one of Charles' biggest fuck ups had to do with Scott's brother Gabriel? Hard to say. But Hank, who Charles very carefully isolated from his parents by mindwiping them for years of Hank's whole existence, never really managed to break free of him, and it shows here really acutely.

Hell, it arguably never went away, even into the Krakoan era - a more interesting version of X-Force would have really dived into the kind of fucked up dynamic they have, where Chuck keeps covering for Beast's moral transgressions for seemingly no reason, because in some respects, he's responsible for them. He gave him the power, he gave him no oversight, but even more pressingly, he wasn't there for him emotionally. He pulled him into this life and didn't prepare him for the toll it would take, how much it would ruin Beast by the time he gets to Krakoa. Beast needed someone to help him there, and no-one did, which is part of why he went on the skids, I think.

But anyway, Whedon does a lot of moments where Hank is present for scenes but doesn't speak, which is important for a character who's well known for not shutting the fuck up. This, the initial cure conversation, the whole conversation about Piotr - Hank clams up. He doesn't feel like he can talk about it. He's off in his own head, his thoughts are his own, he doesn't feel the need to share them.

And here, it's especially important, because this is a big moral violation that Charles has committed in their name. I know it may be hard to remember, but back in the day, Hank had a moral opinion that was worth something, so the fact that he doesn't say anything here speaks volumes about just how much he feels capable of calling out the Professor, i.e. not at all. He craves Xavier's validation, his approval, he feels a kinship with Chuck. So he doesn't criticise him like he should.

It's especially interesting given that this would continue through the Utopia era. Every time Scott distanced himself from Xavier, Hank was there to comfort Charles, and I feel like that's just something he feels like he has to do. He feels like the devoted brother to Scott's more radical, more willing to criticise brother, and if Bendis had any interest in Beast as a character, he would've played on that in All-New X-Men - the fact that Scott killed their toxic father figure, and Beast feels both free of an influence he didn't know was choking him, but outraged that Scott would break their 'family' like that.

I find Beast compelling because of his flaws, and this is an interesting moment when you take all of that into account. I don't even know if that was the intention of this scene, or if Whedon just wanted to give Scott the speech, but it's interesting, nonetheless, and it really shines a light on how Hank and Charles see each other. I'm very interested to see Hank's take on where Charles has ended up in From the Ashes, because it has the potential to really change that dynamic.

Scott Summers

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #34, 2010.

Hank McCoy is Scott Summers' best friend.

I said it because it's true, and it's true reading all the way back to the Silver Age, honestly. Even as Bobby's screaming his head off about Scott being a stuck up asshole, Hank's quietly reminding Bobby that Scott can't be anyone other than who he is, "he can't help his psychological make-up," and I think that gets at a really important part of their relationship. Just as Scott's mind is attractive to telepaths because it's so neatly ordered and makes perfect sense to them, Scott's personality is appealing to Hank because he makes sense to him. Scott is orderly, anxious, dedicated, intelligent, hides his true feelings, and wants to belong, even as he stands apart. Hank is most, if not all, of these things, and so, they get each other. Bobby fucks around, Warren schmoozes and gets cocky, Jean is a GIRL AND THEREFORE SCARY, but Hank and Scott just get each other.

Which makes it all the more tragic when they fall apart, because Hank sees it all and it makes sense to him, even as it breaks his heart. What a lot of people misunderstand about Hank's arc during Utopia is that they read his moral grandstanding as self-righteousness or hypocrisy or a big ol' stick he wants to use to hit people with, and it's honestly not that. I really don't think it is.

I think he sees Scott sacrificing the parts of himself that make him a good man so that he can make a better general, and it terrifies him. He sees him become callous, manipulative, cold-blooded, willing to risk everything on a course of action because he believes he's right. Hank thinks he's fighting for the soul of the X-Men, for his own soul, for Scott's soul, even as everyone else is fighting for mutantkind.

Hank went through his own journey in Endangered Species, and he knows that there's nothing he can do, so why fight it? Why not just stop, and live out his days being the best man he can be, a member of the first and last generation of mutants, and let it go? Because no-one saw what he saw.

No-one saw the end of mutantkind inscribed on the vellum of reality like he did, saw what he would become if he did what Scott did and did anything and everything to stop the death of the mutant race - no-one else knows how close he came to jumping into the abyss and becoming Dark Beast. And no-one, honestly, cares. Hank doesn't tell anyone, because he never does, but it absolutely informs his views going forward. It can't not.

But no-one is interested enough in Hank McCoy's feelings to really ask why he's so insistent, or what happened when he was gone. He's a private individual, and he never told anyone. He felt profoundly ashamed of what he did while he was gone, which didn't exactly help. So his moral insistence just comes across as hatred, and it's not. He loves Scott Summers like a brother. That's why he fought so hard to keep him the way he was, not the way he became.

I also find it interesting that, in some ways, Hank is responsible for Scott becoming a happier, more well-adjusted individual, if in the most fucked up and irresponsible and manipulative way possible. Even in the midst of their relationship being at its lowest point, Hank was inadvertently responsible for time displaced Scott joining the Champions and getting to spend time with his father, giving him precious memories of a life not lived for Xavier that he didn't have before, and it's arguable that that's part of what mellowed Scott, coming out of the Death of X/revolution era.

It's not a good thing that Hank did that, obviously, he did it because - well, because he was having a brain aneurysm called Brian Michael Bendis, but whatever, it wouldn't have happened without Hank's intervention. I don't know if it's fair to give Hank credit for this, because those are Scott's choices and Scott's relationships, but the sequence of events is such. Idk. I try to see the best in Hank's actions and make them make sense to how I see the character.

A better version of X-Force would have made Scott central to Hank's descent into darkness, because it's frankly too obvious a connection to make, but whatever, we missed that boat. I just know that, just like how Hank didn't want for Scott to hollow himself out like he did, Scott wouldn't have wanted Hank to hollow himself out like he did, either, and I'm glad to see that reflected in MacKay's X-Men #1. I hope that friendship is rebuilt, because it deserves to be.

Jean Grey

New X-Men #124, 2002.

Hank McCoy is Jean Grey's brother.

Okay, so maybe not biologically, but they are basically brother and sister. It's why the stabs at making a relationship between them have never really worked for me, and I just enjoy the friendship moments between them too much to think of them together romantically. They're both intensely empathetic, deep feeling, loving characters, and in some ways, despite Jean being a literal telepath, Hank actually gets people better than Jean does sometimes (see X-Men Annual '95) because where she can be blinded by anger and passion and justice, Hank sees people for who they are and what they want very easily.

Almost any time that Hank is feeling blue (heehee) in 90s X-Men or New X-Men, it's Jean that pulls him out of it, because she's spent the most time learning what his habits are, when he's not really feeling as all right as he promises, and I honestly don't think it's a massive coincidence that the period that adult Jean spends dead (2005-2017) is a period that Hank spends alternately depressed, irrational, or alone. Maybe that's a form of dependency? Possibly. I just think they're best friends and that they make each other better when they're around one another.

Hank believes in Jean. He walks through the snow, thinking the rest of the X-Men are dead, believing that if he can at least get Jean out, then maybe he hasn't failed. He gets yanked onto the Shi'ar flagship, hears about what Dark Phoenix did, and instantly tries to throw the book at Empress Lilandra because he believes in Jean, and he believes in justice and law and due process. He watches her manifest the Phoenix and piece Emma together with her telekinesis, yanking her consciousness into her body once more, and even though he's afraid, he sticks with her. He trusts her with his mind, giving her his anatomy knowledge so she can work informed, even as the flames of her Phoenix form lick at his arm and burn him.

Hank believes in Jean Grey.

Bobby Drake

X-Men: First Class #4, 2007.

Bobby Drake is Hank McCoy's first best friend.

There were definitely great friends beforehand (Jennifer Nyles comes to mind), but in terms of making Hank feel normal, in terms of becoming friends to have fun and just hang out and because you simply like each other's vibes and feel comfortable each other? Yeah, Bobby is absolutely Hank's first best friend.

It's probably best exemplified in New Defenders, especially #122, where Bobby just. Needs Hank. He needs his best friend. Hank always has a knack for chasing away Bobby's blues, and you see it again and again throughout that run, where Hank is just who Bobby goes to first whenever he's feeling bad (as well as in 90s X-Men), because Hank always seems to know what to say.

I also don't think it's an exaggeration to say that there must've been a lot of good feeling going on for notable stick in the mud 60s Hank and retroactively gay Bobby to go out on double dates with Vera and Zelda. Hank bought an entire cabin so that they'd have a place to go to. Can you think of anyone else that Hank's done that for? I rest my case. (Is it all a little gay? Maybe. But it's not gay if the socks stay on.)

Where this relationship falls apart is when Bobby stops growing before Hank does, and what Hank needs outpaces what Bobby can provide, as seen in Uncanny X-Men #518. It's not necessarily Bobby's fault, he's just - not a very emotionally capable person, a lot of the time, his primary character flaw is an inability to grow up, and so Hank throws something heavy at him, and his best, most immediate impulse is to just say, well, deal with it how you've always dealt with it.

And that's just not good enough. And in many ways, I think Hank just stops trusting Bobby at that point, to the extreme where Bobby calls out for every other member of the original X-Men but him at the 2023 Hellfire Gala as he dies, and I wasn't surprised one bit. They stop appearing in comics together, Hank doesn't feature in his modern solo series' at all, and their interactions are fine, but nowhere near what they were.

Warren Worthington

Uncanny X-Men #297, 1992.

Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Which, you might think is strange, given that Warren is a rich kid with wings and Hank is a farmboy quarterback with big feet, but it's true, by virtue of three facts - one, they're the two most obvious, physically mutated members of the O5.

Two, they came to heroism on their own. Warren's turn as the Avenging Angel, and Hank's fighting against the Conquistador in his origin, both predate their time as X-Men, and this is massively important in their development because it demonstrates that altruism and self-sacrifice are intrinsic in their characters. They believe in doing good things to help people, or stopping bad people from doing bad things, because it's the right thing to do. Whereas Scott and Jean and Bobby emerged from tragedy and ruin, Hank and Warren came from a place of stability and a desire to do good.

Three, they both undergo a terrifying physical metamorphosis that causes massive changes in their personalities, Warren becoming Archangel and Hank becoming a much more literal Beast. This point of commonality is a rock for them both, and as you can see, it helps them through. They realise that for all their struggles with the other aspects of their new selves, they're still, in the ways that count, the same people - they're still the friends they always were.

It's also very significant to me that Warren is the X-Man that Hank first 'comes out' to as the Beast, in Amazing Adventures #15 (1971), and I don't think it's a real coincidence that even as Charles tries to assert that Hank's protest that he's his own man, not an X-Man, and Jean shies away in shock from the vehemence with which Hank rejects their telepathic call, Warren calls bullshit and just goes.

He asserts himself. He's independent, and he breaks from the X-Men, much like Hank and Bobby did, Hank going to the Avengers and Bobby and Warren to the Champions, then all three of them to the Defenders - even as Scott and Jean stay with the X-Men, a decision that will lead to a whole line of catastrophe that ends with Jean dead, and Scott resigned to a life left unfulfilled because his one true love is dead.

Meanwhile, Hank, Bobby and Warren are clustered in a borrowed quinjet in their best togs, going to a wedding. Warren asks why he and Bobby are going along, given they hardly know the couple. Hank replies Warren that he's family, and he wants them there, and that's that, and there's a quiet, warm little smile on his face, because he is. They are.

I also find it very interesting that Hank and Warren undergo a very similar trajectory, tracking from Utopia to the Dark Angel Saga for Warren, and All-New X-Men to Krakoa for Hank - they cloister themselves off from others, they lose sight of who they originally were, they roll around in the blood of innocents, and in the end, they both end up dying and losing their memories, born anew.

Like I said. Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Jennifer Nyles

X-Men Unlimited vol. 2 #10, 2005.

Jen is an underrated figure in Hank's history, and that's mostly because she has very limited appearances, none of which quite make sense with one another. Her first appearance in Marvel Presents #85-92 posits that she was, in many ways, Hank's first love, the person he missed most of all those who were made to forget him, and that the absence of him in her mind compelled her to study the mind so that she might try and unlock what she knew was missing. In the end, he stays away from her, because she nearly dies and he feels he endangers her. He probably does.

Then, we have a retroactive appearance in Origins: Beast, and the above story in Unlimited. Origins: Beast doubles down on her importance, stating that she's the person who encourages Hank to come out of his shell even before he's an X-Man, to use his gifts and be the brilliant person she knows he is, and while Unlimited agrees with that importance, she knows who Hank is at a time when she shouldn't. How to square it away? Ehh. I kinda don't. I like the three stories and how they impact and change and demonstrate Hank's qualities too much to try and change them. Instead, I just enjoy them.

In another life, Hank and Jen absolutely got married and they had a brilliant history together. She's almost as smart as he is, just as fiery (she punches out a bully antagonising Hank), and she has a strong moral, empathetic core. Hank, honestly, has a type. But even more than a romantic figure, I like her as an inspirational figure for Hank, someone that pushes him in the right direction and leads him to the right answers without giving them to him. She accepts him at a time when he needed it most, and helps him rebuild his life.

Tony Stark

Amazing Adventures #14, 1972.

For a pair of geniuses that snark at each other almost non-stop whenever they're around, and who feel almost constantly at loggerheads in classic Avengers, Tony is very important to Hank's development, sometimes by virtue of his faults.

First off, he's the superhero who turns up to investigate Hank's transformation at Brand, and his apparent death there at Hank's hands (a Mastermind illusion) and his mercy and understanding of the torment that Hank is undergoing are massively formative in Hank coming to terms with his new bestial form. He teaches Hank's two lessons - one, that he needs to control himself in a way he didn't need to before, and two, that he can still rely on people to see the human in him if he acts it.

Secondly - it's his inadvertent dismissal of Hank during the Avengers' examination of Wonder Man that sparks off Hank getting annoyed about his genius being ignored, pushes him out of the Mansion in a snit . . . and that's when he discovers that he's not just adjusting to being a beast anymore. No, he's fucking hot now. Even when he's being a dick (without really meaning to), Tony helps Hank grow, helping him realise that he doesn't need to be the high performing intellectual he was on the X-Men, the Avengers have that covered, but also, that he can afford to be someone else as well.

They continue to be friends for years and years, with their friendship built up over the course of plenty of classic Avengers issues, leading to a complete bypassing of a big ol' hero vs. hero fight in X-Factor Annual #1 (1986) because Hank's just like, oh hey, Iron Man, it's me, and Tony's just like, oh hey Beast, what the fuck's all this about? And it just. Fixes the problem.

I also don't think that it's a coincidence that Hank and Tony are the two most visibly affected when the Illuminati mindwipe Steve during the Incursions arc, with Hank unable to even really look at Steve when it happens, and Hank is constantly pulling on that morality chain even as they tie each other into knots, trying to justify the destruction of worlds. For as much as they give each other shit, Hank and Tony can rely on each other to give it to 'em straight, and that's important when their heads can get as big as these guys.

Wanda Maximoff

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #30, 2017.

Hank should hate Wanda more than he does.

The event that Wanda caused, the Decimation, was, in a lot of people's opinions, the beginning of the end for Henry McCoy. It stripped him of his morality and his pretensions and his ability to do anything. It was the height of cruelty, and Wanda did it without arguably meaning to. Not casually, but in a moment of instability. Leaving a gaping wound in evolution that Hank tried to fix.

He threw away a lot, trying to fix it. He wrecked a lot of relationships, came away feeling dirty, consorted with demons. Became acutely aware of every one of his limitations. And yet. He never really blamed her. Because how could he?

After all, he knew Wanda before the mess. When she was a brilliant friend and teammate on the Avengers. When she was shining, glimmering proof that people could change and become better, if only they tried and were given the chance. When she was at her best. And he never stopped believing she could be that again. It certainly didn't help that they had a certain wonder man in common, but honestly, they're just great friends.

Hank supported her in Children's Crusade, even in the face of the X-Men going kill crazy, and he never held a grudge. Even when he finds her, at the end of his rope, in Endangered Species, when he's at his most fraught and defeated, he just. Wants to fix things. It would be so easy to be hateful and resentful, but he just doesn't have it in him. After all, he knows what it's like to ruin your life in an instant because of a bad decision, and to want to claw it back however you can.

Carol Danvers

Ms. Marvel vol. 2 #18, 2007.

Honestly, for someone who you often see getting blasted on the X-Men Reddit for the Superhuman Registration Act/where were you when our babies were burning panels, Carol has a lot of really strong relationships within the X-Men, but I think her bond with Hank is especially strong - which is saying something, considering their first meeting was a fight! But, honestly, they just like and respect each other. They don't tolerate injustice, they believe in being heroes for everyone, not just the few, and they support each other.

Even in the midst of Civil War II, arguably the single worst that Carol has ever been written (not counting Avengers #200, take your pick of a character assassination), there's a moment where Tony is begging Carol to rethink her Minority Report bullshit, and she says, fine, I'll consider your evidence - but only if Hank checks it. And he says he has, and it's not wrong. And she knows that that means something.

The best friends will tell you when you're wrong. And you'll listen to them.

Heather Douglas

The New Defenders #139, 1984.

Hank and Heather have an almost constantly combative relationship from the instant Moondragon joins the Defenders, with Hank never afraid to let her know that he doesn't like her and that he doesn't want her on 'his' team. In his estimation she's high, and mighty, and conceited, and possessed of more power than wisdom.

And. Guess what?

Hank's fucking wrong. Heather is trying. Yes, she backslides, she has her moments of true ego and duplicity, but it takes Hank far too long to come to realise that she's trying as hard as she is - and frankly, she's right to smack him down and humiliate him from time to time, because he can be conceited. He acts as though the Defenders are his team, and he harbours pretensions of leadership that no-one takes seriously, because Hank is not a leader, you don't even have to dislike him to know that - and it takes him a while to realise that.

Their combative relationship keeps the other in check. They grow as a result of being around one another, even if they never quite settled things between them. Hank's maturation into a grown adult, into a man able to be more than just a superhero, is in no small part thanks to Moondragon's barbs and pushes and slaps at his ego, and he should be grateful that he got the chance to make good on that chance to mature, because Heather didn't, in the end.

Alison Blaire

Marvel Heartbreakers #1, 2010.

I'm gonna be real, the Beauty and the Beast miniseries by Ann Nocenti is not great. It has moments of fun, some pathos, but for the most part, it's incredibly soapy, incredibly hackneyed, goes nowhere, has a lot of weird anti-set up, and Hank is strangely incredibly violent and cruel in it at times. For someone claiming Hank was his usual charming self, Nocenti sure wrote him as a borderline psycho.

But. The Heartbreakers epilogue for that relationship redeems it, honestly, and it gains added poignancy when a future version of Alison is killed in Battle of the Atom, in one of the few instances of that series actually managing a moment of pathos. There's no magic trick to why Hank and Alison work, they just sort of find each other hot and fun and they're there for each other in a weird, fucked up time in Alison's life, so maybe it was inevitable that it faded to nothing.

I just like to think there's always a lingering softness, a lingering what if, for the both of them. A potential of something, if not an actual something.

Vera Cantor

The New Defenders #149, 1985.

Oh, Vera . . . you deserved better.

Gonna be brutally honest, Hank treated Vera kinda like shit. I don't think he meant to, it was never a relationship he was invested in, and he said as much, he was interested in the stability it represented, but I'm genuinely sorry for Vera that she got caught up in the crossfire of it. She was dismissed and treated like a pick-up, drop-off girlfriend when she was looking for a good man - and Hank is a good man, but at this point? Not what she was looking for. Not what she needed.

I'm glad we see her again in X-Factor and she's doing well for herself. I'm fairly convinced that she's a lesbian because Hank may have ruined men for her (in the not good way), but hey, a pro-mutant activist? That's pretty worthy - and considering how Hank treated her, pretty big minded. I like to think this taught Hank to be more considerate of people's feelings and grow out of his womaniser stage.

Julio Richter

X-Factor vol. 1 #18, 1987.

For a character often defined by his teaching abilities, Hank actually wasn't a particularly great teacher or carer for children when he first started - I always think there's a good deal of significance in the fact that X-Factor #1 has him searching out a position in academia, being rejected out of prejudice, but then finding his way to a teaching position through way of X-Factor, though I doubt that was planned.

Regardless of whether or not it was planned, I do think his relationship with Julio Richter, or Rictor, is massively important to Hank's development, because everything that Hank gets wrong with Tabitha Smith, he gets right with Julio. He encourages him, gives him his clothes, never talks down to him, nurtures his potential, pushes him to learn and think for himself - and it's rewarded.

Julio imprints on Hank strongly, and you can see that he favours Hank amongst all the other X-Factor members for a reason. This relationship largely went away in future, sadly, but I always like to think that it remains in some fashion, even if only in small ways.

Trish Tilby

X-Factor vol. 1 #36, 1988.

Yeah, you knew this was coming.

Honestly . . . I can see what Hank saw in her as a human being. She's a woman of fierce convictions. She believes in truth, and honesty, and justice. She is pro-mutant, after a fashion. And I have to give her credit, she does have her moments of heroism, like in this issue, when she risks her life to help Hank save a bridge of people as Inferno kicks into high gear. There are moments of good between them.

But fuck me she's an awful human being.

Leaking the fact that the Legacy Virus has jumped to humans directly leads to a mutant hate crime that ends in a death. She barges in to a sick, dying man's hospital room in the search of a scoop. And I'm not even gonna get into what happened when Hank turned feline.

She's just a trainwreck of breaches of journalistic ethics, and I hate her to bits. If she taught Hank anything, it was that the people you admire and love can disappoint you, and it says a lot that it's a one-two punch of her, and Cassandra fucking Nova that shatters Hank's self-esteem into a million pieces. What rarified company. The very fact that she tries to get back together with Hank after this, like, what even the fuck, man.

Jubilation Lee

Uncanny X-Men #308, 1993.

These two make me smile.

I think Jubilee awakens something very simple and immature in Hank, but something healthy at the same time - she encourages him, and everyone else at the Mansion, up to and including Professor X, to have fun. At a time when they were losing people left and right, it would have been easy to lose heart, but Jubilee kept Hank and the rest of the team bolstered, kept them focused. That's no small thing, honestly. Maybe she doesn't have quite as strong a relationship with Hank as she does Logan - that's a hard bond to match - but it's hard not to look at these two and see a true blue friendship.

I also adore that it came back in full force in X-Men vol. 4 (2013), where Hank often acted as mission and home support for the all-female team of X-Men that featured in that book. Taking care of baby Shogo, helping Omega Sentinel with her physical rehab - Hank was an invaluable asset in that run, and his scenes with Jubilee were always a treat.

Dark Beast

X-Men: Endangered Species, 2007.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Dark Beast is such a well constructed character because he is not just Henry McCoy if Henry McCoy were evil. Dark Beast is, what if Henry McCoy were raised in an evil world that believes in evil things and the only thing to do is be evil, lest it kill you? There's such a curious drive to betterment, to becoming stronger, smarter, more, to him, that speaks to the same in Hank, but it's all just so twisted up. It's driven by fear where it's driven by hope in Hank.

Because he is afraid. And he is human, much as he might hate the label.

He's a warning. He's a check and balance. He's a cruel joke. He's a monster. He's the other side of Hank's fears. Hank fears devolution, becoming more of an animal, giving in to the Beast, but Dark Beast represents evolution, becoming less animal and more - other. Something that considers itself above human, animal, mutant. Intelligence without conscience, drive without wisdom.

He's not what all Hank McCoys inevitably become. That's stupid, and basic, and anyone who believes that is stupid and basic. That's genetic essentialism, and it's shit media literacy. It's also the basis for X-Force (2019) and I reject that hypothesis entirely.

Henry's much more interesting than evil Hank - not just because he's funnier, and better at his job, and a more efficient villain, but because try as he might, there's still something essentially human inside of him. Something stopped him from killing Hank's - his - parents.

An essential, viral, inescapable fact.

There's something good in him, just as there's something bad in Hank. And it will bedevil them both forever, because they can't get rid of it.

Cecilia Reyes

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3, 2012.

Honestly, maybe the most grown up and equal relationship that Hank ever had, and I don't really feel like he even really had the chance to have it. Cecilia is everything Trish wishes she could be, and much more besides. Uncompromising in her morals, fiercely dedicated to healing, defensive of her boundaries, strong, independent, intelligent, funny - and kind.

She held a torch for him, for a long time. There's a lot of pictures of him in her apartment, both from the 90s and his feline form. She felt for him in a way maybe he didn't realise. Maybe he's the one who got away. Maybe she is. Either way, these two just. Work. There's a world out there where they became something more, and that's a happier world for Hank, honestly. But, hey ho.

Emma Frost

New X-Men #123, 2002.

Sometimes friendships don't make sense. Other times they do.

The friendship between Hank and Emma always made sense to me. The wit, the banter, the emotional intelligence, the willingness to play to roles assigned to them by their image - they were practically destined to be friends. And yet, often forgotten. Every now and then, it crops up, and I cherish it, but for the most part, they're just irrepressibly bitchy all the way through Morrison's run, and that'll always be special to me.

I always try and see good where I can, and I wanted to post an exchange from Secret Empire Omega where Hank tries to bolster Emma in the wake of New Tian's fall, because I like the moment for them, but in the end, it's just too poor of an event and a context for me to share it. All my props to Nadia Shammas in the X-Force Annual, the one issue of X-Force I thought actually had a decent handle on a villainous Beast - by sheer virtue of actually remembering that people would care. Emma would care.

Abigail Brand

Siege vol. 2 #2, 2015.

Abigail Brand did not make Hank McCoy into a war criminal.

To say so is to betray a basic lack of understanding of this entire relationship, but then, what else is new? A lot of people seemingly don't get who Hank is and why he works. Out of universe, but also in, oddly enough.

Kate Pryde and Kurt Wagner both speculate about what made Hank into what he became in X-Force, and they think it's Abigail, because that's an easy explanation, but it's not the truth. Not remotely. It betrays that they didn't know Hank as well as they thought they did, and Hank died not being known by a lot of people.

Which . . . sucks. But it is what it is.

Abigail knew him. She knew him as a kind man. Kinder than her. Kinder than anyone. She wanted that kindness. Craved it. Needed it. Managed to jam it into her work life, by hook and by crook. But I don't think Hank minded. At that point in his life, he needed what she offered, and though I don't think either of them ever thought they'd catch real feelings, they both absolutely did.

He kept her honest, she gave him options. He gave her moral dimension, she gave him self-esteem. They complemented each other perfectly, and I'm sorry that they never got a fair chance, really.

Sure, it was all essentially motivated by a desire to get good dick, but sometimes, that's all it needs to be.

Kurt Wagner

Uncanny X-Men: The Heroic Age, 2010.

Ahhh, Kurt . . . honestly, I don't think Hank and Kurt were ever shown to be quite as close on panel as you'd think they would be, in part because there's a One Blue Limit on X-Men teams for a while (seriously, check the X-Men team line-ups, and you'll realise that Hank and Kurt are pretty much never on the same team until 2015, with Amazing X-Men, a team Hank promptly leaves at issue #5).

But I like to think they're good friends, even if Kurt does fall for Hank's facade of being okay, just like a lot of other people. I like to think that Kurt represents a kind of ideal to Hank - he's what Hank, in many ways, wishes he could be. A better man. A happier man. A more hopeful man. A man who believes in a higher power, still. I certainly don't think it's a coincidence that it cuts Hank deep, when Kurt dies at Bastion's hands.

Steve Rogers

Secret Avengers vol. 1 #21, 2012.

Hank and Steve have an odd relationship. In a way, he does a lot for Hank, bolstering him during his time in the Avengers, treating him as a valued teammate - even if, as is typical of 70s writing styles, they can both come across as cunts to one another occasionally - and one of my favourite moments for Hank is in Avengers Annual #11, where Steve calls Hank out as a man who won't kill. Doesn't have it in him.

Which makes this moment, a sequel to what Steve pushes Hank to do in Secret Avengers #16, hurt so much. Steve had to know what it would cost Hank, to shortcut his way into an Oppenheimer arc, but he hoped the math would comfort Hank. I don't think it did.

I don't know if it was intentional, but it haunts me that both Scott and Steve use Hank (Scott during Secret Invasion, and Steve in SA #16) to commit acts of mass murder, and try to console him with the numbers of people saved through atrocity. Hank tried to escape all of that, fleeing from Utopia, and maybe he was naive to think a band of Secret Avengers would be a place to hide from doing bad things, but it doesn't change the essential fact. Scott and Steve used Hank to achieve their goals, and he had to just deal with it.

"Are you seriously asking a mutant what he'll do to avoid extinction?" Mindwiping Steve in New Avengers vol. 3 hurt, I'm sure, but it's a fine old thing, trying to morally grandstand to a man you explicitly used to make a nuclear bomb. A lot of mixed up history in that room.

Broo

Wolverine & the X-Men vol. 1 #7, 2012.

If only Hank's adopted sons were given as much attention and care as Wolverine's adopted daughters. Ah well. There was a lot of work being done over this run, to make it clear that Hank, Abigail and Broo were forming a family unit, including Abigail being there as Broo's parental figure during his graduation and a possible future showing Broo as head of S.W.O.R.D, but all of it eventually came to naught, which saddens me. Broo deserved better. So did Hank.

Time Displaced Beast

X-Men: Blue #35, 2018.

There was a kernel of an idea here.

It was inevitable that Hank was going to end up hating himself. He's a character largely defined by self-hatred, in most of his forms. The thread that never got pulled was the fact that, honestly?

Older Hank should hate younger Hank just as much.

Younger Hank is much closer to the man who turns them blue, who's ego tripping at Brand, than older Hank is. That's what leads him down this entire path, of magic and demon summoning and servitude, that's broken only by the intervention of other X-Men.

But, whatever. The era of lost potential, tbh.

. . . . . . . .

Oh, hey. You're still here?

Yeah, I guess there is someone missing, huh?

Simon Williams

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #28, 2017.

Avengers Annual #6, 1976.

X-Force vol. 6 #49, 2024.

Avengers vol. 3 #14, 1999.

Wonder Man vol. 2 #5, 1991.

Avengers Annual vol. 2 #1, 2012.

They complete one another.

They simply are their best selves around one another.

Even when sick, and twisted, and cruel, and beyond redemption, Hank couldn't bear for the possibility of harm to an invulnerable, immortal, ionic man. He would rather dash all of his plans, make it all for nothing, kill himself, than risk hurting Simon.

At the start of this whole ass breakdown, you said, all relationships have pros and cons. And I think that's true. Mostly. But when Hank and Simon are together, nothing can tear them apart, nothing can bring them down, nothing can stop them, nothing can keep them from doing the right thing.

I can't think of a negative to them being together.

They love each other.

Thanks for bearing with me. :)

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reorientation · 4 months

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virgin lesbian anon:

wanna know something even more disastrous about me? i have serious daddy issues. SERIOUS daddy issues. on top of being a virgin who's never kissed anyone ever... its quite embarrassing actually

but at the end of the day i really just want a man stronger than me to control me. if i could have that, my sexuality wouldnt matter at all. like yeah im only actually attracted to women but... a big strong man overpowering me physically and intellectually... that satisfies my deepest needs any day

and i think thats why i get so attached on male attention and validation. i need it to feel good... and i guess thats why the idea of you makes me so wet too...

i need you in a way... pathetic, right?

(Previously)

Oh, sure, it's pathetic, but in the cute way. There's a sweet, subby kind of pathetic that just makes a man like me want to push you to the ground (since you're too weak to resist), put your legs over my shoulders (because you'll whimper entertainingly every time my cock hits your cervix), and fuck a baby into your womb (because clearly you need a man to make the big decisions for you).

Sweetheart, it's obvious that you need a man in charge. You didn't need to tell me that you have daddy issues for that to be apparent. And you're right: next to that, who you're attracted to is just a minor detail. You have the things that make a man want to put you under his authority - a wet pussy, a shy, obedient demeanor, and a fertile womb - and your identity comes a distant second to that, when it comes to getting your real needs met.

Which is not to say that they're totally incompatible. Most straight men would enjoy seeing their obedient "lesbian" play with another girl. Just as long as she knows her place, and spreads her legs when she's told.

#reor: virgin lesbian anon #kink interactions #reorientation writing #reor: anon ask #lgetsd

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prodbymaui · 1 year

Text

My Boy.

would it be a sin? if I can't help falling in love with you

PAIRING: lee donghyuck x fem reader

GENRE: the innocent sweet boy

WORD COUNT: 3.6k+ words

WARNINGS: explicit content, reader is older by 3 years, implied obsession, implied murder, mentioned physical abuse (not from haechan!)

SYNOPSIS: A series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.

A/N: forgive me for not writing a smooth transition from fluff to smut lmao. and this isn't beta-read so please just pretend you don't see grammatical errors and typos. fluff was just a poor attempt of hiding my true intentions for this fic, anyways lolol. enjoy reading! send your thoughts if you can, xoxo <3

LISTEN TO: Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley (Haley Reinhart)

Lee Donghyuck, for everyone at the campus, is someone who embodies gracefulness, kindness and all the positive traits one could ever think of. Nobody would ever dare to say ill about him as it's disrespectful for the boy who had been nothing but gentle and polite to each he had encounter.

Lee Donghyuck, the ever so sweet boy who comes to anyone's aid no matter what's his relationship with them.

You're his friend? He'll help you!

A classmate? He's just one call away!

Oh, you're a stranger and someone he haven't met yet? How amazing it is that Donghyuck has a free time to lend you a hand and get to know you!

Men and women stares at him with adoration, even the professors and staffs couldn't resist falling in love with his charming personality-- he even earned the nickname 'Haechan' or 'Full Sun' as he brightens everyone's day with little to no effort. It would be a lie if none of the students admits their crush on the campus' sweetheart Lee Donghyuck.

Too bad for them as the lovely boy's hazel eyes are only set for one person. Someone who had been by his side ever since he was 5. Someone he admires and respects so much he wouldn't let anyone hurt nor even touch them. It's you. His noona.

Haechan was 15 when he confessed his undying love for you.

''These feelings.. they didn't grow inside me throughout the 10 years I've been with you, Noona. They had always been here, in my heart. It was just me who took a long time to realize I have been harboring romantic feelings for someone who clearly treats me as her brother. This love-- it's endless, limitless. It knows no boundaries. No matter who and whatever comes in my way, my love for you will never waver. Through the deathly drought, my love won't ever wither. Through the thundering storms, my heart stands sturdy for you to hold on. This love that I have for you, it is the kind of love that only gets stronger as time flies by. The kind of love that through life and death, you remain the queen of my heart. Ruling it as if you are its owner. Let me be the man who protects you from the harsh that is this world. Let me be the wall you can lean on and the blanket you seek for warmth and comfort. I hope you wouldn't treat me any less after this confession. Because if there's anything that I am afraid to lose in this world, it's you, noona.''

It's astonishing, how a 15 year old can say such words. You're not sure where and when he learned those kind of things but you, as early as you can, stomps on the flattering feeling brewing inside of you. The boy is so young, he still have so much ahead of him, so much of the future that awaits him. With the thought of not wanting to let the boy tie himself up quickly to someone he's most likely just infatuated-- that was the first and last time you've expected to reject the sweet boy of Ilsan.

Lee Donghyuck, the persistent boy that he is, surprises you with more than 3 confessions each month. You resist falling for the beautiful flowers sent to your house everyday. You withstand the painful urge of giving in to the delicious and adorable bento boxes that shows different images of cartoon characters such as cinnamoroll and my melody from sanrio.

But you're just a human being. One that is weak from such cute attempts to sway your heart, like love letters with pastel decorations on your mailbox. It was too late before you realized, the wall you've created to stop the romantic feelings from squeezing themselves in your heart had crumbled into pieces. Shooing away your so-called sisterly love to Donghyuck as it was quickly replaced with the one the male had confessed harboring for you.

6 years later, your sweet little boy turned into a man he promised to be. Protecting you from any harm even if you can do it yourself. I know Noona can handle it but I don't want you stressing over things like these, why not make use of these muscles, right? He says.

''That's really the Lee Haechan? The little boy who had a crush on you back in high school? That chubby choco ball little boy?! God, he grew up so well! If you didn't tell me any sooner, I might've mistaken him as someone our age.''

You scoff at Jennie's words, sending her your middle finger. ''Just tell me you were thinking of fucking my boyfriend until I told you he's mine.''

Jennie's laugh battles with the loud music of the club, hands clapping like a seal due to amusement. ''Fine, guilty as fuck.''

You don't mind her words. You've been Jennie's friend for a long time to know that she doesn't have any plans of actually bedding your boy. Plus she's dumbly in love with her fuck buddy, Lalisa. That itself tells a lot. And it's not like your lovely would agree fucking your best friend.

''Come to think of it-- none of your past relationships really worked, no? All of them either ran away or just completely disappeared,'' She giggles.

''Men are so fucking scared of independent and powerful women. Maybe it was fated from the start for you to end up with Donghyuck. From what I can see, he's really into you-- always ready to serve or some cliché shit like that. But it's cute. You and Donghyuck are adorable together. He's so much better than those douchebags, especially that fucking Kim Jongin.''

Right, the devil who's Kim Jongin if its physical form. He was someone you wished you didn't met, someone whom you hoped is currently suffering wherever he is right now. You remember it as clear as the skies. The way he was so sly slipping a pill in your cup, waiting for you to pass out as he was driven madly by his disgusting lust over your body. Fortunately, luck wasn't on his side at that time and you managed to call the one person you trust the most before your ex-boyfriend even do something horrible to your intoxicated, drugged self-- sans the bruises and wounds you received from fighting back.

Haechan came rushing to your house that night. This is where it gets blurry. All you could recall was Jongin dropping on the floor, laying on top of the pool of his own blood. Donghyuck carries you, passing through the police as he urges them to rush you to a hospital-- all the while reminding them that the offender is currently inside and he was lucky to save the both of you despite earning some injuries as well, although minors.

3 years since then, you are yet to say you feel safe. Not long after being jailed, Kim Jongin was reported to be missing in his cell and until now, no police is able to locate him. The trauma he brought you stirs the fear once again, but Donghyuck was there to remind you that he will never let Kim Jongin near you. He already hurt you once, he wouldn't give him a chance to do it again.

A voice snaps you out of your bubble. Jennie is nowhere to be seen, now replaced with a familiar man you swear you've seen before. ''You seem preoccupied, a penny for your thoughts?''

The man chuckles at your stunned reaction. ''Ah.. you don't remember me? That hurts a bit, ouch.'' He clenches his chest dramatically, there you gasp in realization, jerking upwards as you point at his figure. You know this guy!

''Oh? Are you finally remembering me? Just to be sure, it's me. Na Jaemin from the dance club in high school. You know? Your partner in every dance.. ?''

''Right! Right! Ah, Na Jaemin, I didn't recognized you! Take a seat. How are you doing?'' Jaemin's smile is so bright that you could feel yourself going blind.

''Doing fine, luckily. I'm taking up an engineering course, we've talked about that before right? Remember how you encourage me to go for it because I was so scared I won't make it? I was so bad at math that time.''

Laughing softly, you share the vivid memories you can recall from your high school days. Jaemin is a gentleman who doesn't hesitate to lend a hand at times you're having difficulties following the choreographies. And by how he entertains everyone in the club, treating the members snacks and drinks during break time-- It is safe to say he's one of those that you misses the most if not for college erasing your memories and replacing it stress.

The conversation fills with reminiscing about the past as if they're 15 years ago. Sharing a laughter after one mentions that one time you both got mental blocked during a performance causing the two of you to mess up, thankfully you work well enough you pull it off and make it seem like there was no mistake at all.

Just as Jaemin's eyes roams around the dance floor, his vision captures a sight of his drunken friend that clearly needs his help. Sighing, the man bids his goodbye to you. Not without getting your number and sharing his, of course. You'd love to hang out with the whole group again.

''What was that right there, huh?'' A grin shows itself on your face and sudden giddiness bubbles inside you as the playful tone rumbles against your ear, a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your waist.

''Nothing, just an old friend saying hi.''

''Is that so?''

''Uh-hm.''

One on the forehead, one on your cheeks and finally on the lips. Your heart soars as Donghyuck peppers your whole face with sweet pecks. As much as you are enjoying the drinks and foods, you'd rather spend the night in your shared bedroom with Haechan. Maybe cuddle and watch some movies together if one is not too tired.

Your boyfriend agrees at the suggestion, immediately zooming to your apartment after waving a goodbye to Jennie with Lisa in her embrace, obviously sucking a hickey on her neck. No one admits it but clearly, your best friend's fuck buddy also have the same feelings for her. She's just too much of a coward. You remind yourself to help her confess.

Reaching the comfort of your home, you stand before the mirror as you drink in your look, observing if you look presentable during your time at the club. It isn't long before someone sneaks up behind you, arms snaking around you once again as he buries his face on the crook of your neck. Sighing, you lean backwards to press yourself at him, satisfied at the feeling of his body heat warming you.

A kiss turns into twice, trice, until it doubles and doubles, eventually reaching up to the back of your ears. Kitten licking the outline, Donghyuck presses his lips against your ears as one of his palms travels to cup one of your breasts, eyes straight to the mirror-- watching every changes of your facial expression as he fondles your boob while sucking an area of your neck.

Your clothes are soon on the floor, courtesy of Haechan desperately yet slowly stripping them off of you, his touch lingering in each part of your body. A finger of his traces the line that is between your pussy cheeks, dipping a little only to retract as fast. His chest rumbles against your back when he chuckle, left hand settling on your throat comfortably as his thumb and forefinger forces you to face your reflection on the mirror.

''You're so pretty, noona. Can you open your legs for me?'' Nodding so pliantly, Donghyuck could feel his pants getting tighter each second that passes by.

Spreading your legs, you grip his arm to steady yourself as a digit of his pushes itself in your core, sliding so easily due to the wetness embarrassingly caused by Haechan's raspy voice whispering against your ears. Being knuckles deep inside you, the male curses under his breath as he controls himself from foregoing foreplay and straight fucking you against the mirror. Your warm and velvety walls are making it hard for him to prevent himself from doing so.

Soon after a couple of strokes, your hips jerks in little motions, whines slightly echoing the four walls of the bedroom. That was when Donghyuck decided to add another finger to increase the friction you're feeling, curling them upwards in an attempt to press the buttons that emits the sounds he loves so much he considers it as a music.

It should be somewhere around here...

''Ah, shit!''

There we go, he cockily smirks. Humming, Haechan continuously jabs the tip of his fingers to that certain spot, grinding his clothed dick on the crack of your ass to ease the throbbing pain between his legs. ''Fuck, Hyuck..'' Your whines encourage the male to scissor your insides, stretching your walls all the while making sure hit and reach every spot you couldn't explore with your own hands.

His tongue falls flat on your skin as he licks a stripe from your shoulders up to the back of your ears, the hand that was previously on your throat now settles on your boob, pinching the hard nub lightly as he stimulates further pleasure with it. Your legs folds a bit, going jelly but the sudden increase of the dizzying pleasure you're getting.

''Fuck, fuck, fuck!'' Hips moving to meet the palms of your boyfriend, Haechan didn't hesitate to add two more fingers. He's already sure you can take it, you've pushed much bigger things in your pussy. The pads of Donghyuck's hand comes in contact with your aching hard clit, forcing a yelp from your. Cruelly, your boyfriend laughs at your reaction before pressing harder on your button, making circles with it the same time as four of his fingers harshly plunges themselves in your soaking core.

Eyes landing on the mirror, it eventually reaches downwards where Donghyuck's wrist and your pelvis meets. Even from your position and blurry vision, you could the redness and puffiness your pussy had become, clit peeking between the cheeks. Haechan finds the need to balance your figure as you almost fall forward, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your mouth opens to a scream. There your forehead scrunches to the middle, body shivering in his hold as the surface of his hand soon greets the sticky and creamy substance that he loves so much.

Beaming in satisfaction, Haechan makes a show of licking your juices off his hands, sucking each fingers with a 'pop!' before humming. ''You're just so sweet.''

Donghyuck then lets your knees meet the carpet of the ground slowly, turning you around so you could face the bump that is hidden underneath the fabric of his pants. He can already see the drool escaping your lips. No words are needed for you to know what to do, you've done this a lot of time, enough to learn what satisfies your lovely boyfriend.

Contrary to the Donghyuck you've gotten used to, this man that stands before you embodies nothing similar to the sweetheart. This particular Donghyuck loves to slide his girthy cock inside of you with no warnings, gripping your hair in a fist as he mercilessly thrusts to that pleasuring walls that is your throat.

This particular Donghyuck gets off of watching you scrambling to pull yourself off of him to catch a breath, coughing out with saliva only to come back having your face pressed to his pelvis once again. Eyes shut close as you try to breathe within your nose and if you couldn't, resort to opening your eyes and presenting your best teary eyes to Haechan for him to spare you, let you take in some air for at least a few seconds.

''Ah.. that's a-- I made you cum but you couldn't even bring me near my release? Isn't that a bit unfair to me, noona?'' You know damn well he's just mocking you. There's no one Donghyuck can fool when it comes to your ability to make him cum. A mere sight of you, even if covered from head to toe, would be enough for him to pop a boner and shoot his cum out in the air.

Determined to repay your baby's kind gesture earlier, you stills in your position and gives him a signal. Donghyuck lets out profanities with that. You just fucking gave him a confirmation, a consent that you're letting him fuck your throat as if it's your pussy.

Lee Donghyuck did just that. Holding your face in place, fucking inside you deeper with each thrust until a groan escapes his lips, soon enough he was spurting out white thick substances in the alley of your burning throat.

The male wastes no time in carrying you to the bed, throwing you after ripping his clothes off of him. His tongue invades the insides of your mouth, exploring and devouring what you have to offer. As if running out of time, Haechan's hands grasps the back of your thighs and forces them up to get a clearer view of your pussy pulsating, hungry for his cock.

Who is Donghyuck to deprive his lovely noona from receiving a well deserved good fuck, right?

No more teasing and no more extra touches, the tip of Donghyuck's thick cock slowly sinks, the whole entirety of his length follows not long after. His mouth falls open at the heat that surrounds him, the ecstasy you brings shakes his sanity.

Unforgiving, the thrusts are. With his hands settling besides your head, Haechan looks down to watch where your hole swallows him hungrily and is forced to turn his eyes away in order to not cum that fast. Fuck, the squelching sounds that bounces across the bedroom is so obscene that Donghyuck could feel himself smiling in pride. He's doing this to his, noona. Him and not those bastards.

''Fuck! Y-you're so b-big! So good, baby-- ah, fuck!'' Your nails creates crescent moon shapes on his back as it digs due to the immense pleasure, head dipping further to the pillow underneath you.

Being able to hold you in his arms and have you screaming for him, Haechan did the best he can to prevent himself from giving in to tempting urge of releasing. Instead, he decides to chase yours. He rocks his hips in the way you had been begging him, faster and harder. Unhooking his hold, he brings your legs to rest on his shoulders, almost bending you in half. This enables his cock to reach deeper and you wails, feeling his tip right at your stomach.

Fucking you earnestly, Haechan quickens his pace where you couldn't keep up, reduced to a whimpering and crying mess as you beg him to send you off to your climax. He latches his wet lip around your nipples, there he sucks like a new born baby starving for its mama's milk. Prodding his tongue right at the middle of your nub and wiggles them, that and the continuous contact of his tip to your sweet spot are those that caused you to thrash violently in his hold.

Hands flying anywhere, in search of gripping anything. Your burning walls clenching around his shaft, it would be a crime for Donghyuck to not succumb to the euphoria that's literally waving at him and beckoning him to cum. With your sweet words and encouragements piercing his eardrums, your boyfriend cums three thrusts after you, each resulting a moan from him.

The high soon subsides and a chuckle instinctively comes from him when his eyes catches the sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him, snoring like a little baby. Well, you are. His baby, to be exact.

Stickiness from the mega mixture of sweat and cum covers most of your skin, he wouldn't want the both of you to have a skin rashes or whatever it is that you gets from having cum on your skin for too long. And aftercare is a must! So he forces himself out of the bed despite the aching muscles and cleans you up, carefully as to no wake you up from your deep slumber.

Minutes passing, you are now comfortably laying on the bed, clean and free from the germs. A soft smile dawns Haechan's features as he cards his hand through your hair endearingly, kissing your forehead. ''I can't believe you're mine, noona.'' Caressing your cheeks for the last time, he practically forces himself to stop and move on to what he planned to do which is to cook your some food. Usually after sex, you'll wake up after an hour or so because of hunger. It has been a routine for him to prepare you both some easy dishes.

He is about to head towards the door when your phone, placed on the bedside, rings. Striding to it, he taps once to see who dared to text his noona at this time. Don't they know that you are most likely sleeping during this hour and their text might wake you up? Nevermind, maybe it's Jennie.

Oh. It's him.

Hey, this is Jaemin! I was just thinking if you'd like to hang out on wednesday? Only if you're free, of course!

Na fucking Jaemin.

Donghyuck scoffs, tongue poking his cheeks as he smirks in disbelief.

3 years since then, he can't believe he's about to give Kim Jongin a fucking gravemate.

#haechan smut #nct smut #nct #lee donghyuck #lee haechan #nct scenarios #nct imagines #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #nct hard hours #haechan hard hours #nct 127 #nct dream #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #prodbymaui

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