#so maybe placing these words in the hands and hearts of others will help awaken my need to dismantle the chaos in me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatnonameuser · 6 months ago

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The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 8.

Going down the rabbit hole that is your mirror a third time feels a little more normal. Even though traveling through it to begin with is the definition of crazy, you’ve started to get used to it. Just like the last two times you awaken to your bedroom, you feel smothered by that sensation of being forced under something heavy and lying on a fluff cloud. Your mirror ripples and gleams a bright white light that beckons you forward.

You’re not exactly prepared for this, but you don’t have any time to. You throw off the odd feeling blankets and make your way to the mirror, which is sparkling in its usual white light.

You take a deep dream breath to steady your nerves. You want this trip through the looking glass to be different this time. Instead of you stumbling through the mirror world completely blind, you need to go through determined to find answers.

You’re smart enough to recognise the pattern. Whatever happens there seems to happen in your dreams, to some effect, have happened in real life. The painted roses, the cards soldiers, and Ace and Deuce, being beheaded by the Queen for breaking the rules. There’s a pattern and if it keeps up tonight, then tomorrow during the duel something is going to happen that will be similar to your dreams.

Plus, there’s also the King of Hearts. He and Alice were the only ones who could see you so far, and Winston was the darling of the Queen. There had to be something that he knew that could help you. And if your dreams were really sending you back in time to meet them, then he had to know something that can help you. Even if it was a tiny detail, you needed to know.

Plus. If your deduction was correct, then Crowley had done jack all since you arrived to send you back home, then maybe you could find something out from someone like you. A darling that’s terrified. If it’ll lead back home, it's worth a shot, right?

Now invigorated with courage, you place your hand on the glass, and it ripples. And you’re pulled into wonderland.

You’re somewhere unfamiliar. As in it doesn’t look like the rose maze anymore. In fact, this place looks very different.

The rose garden is beautiful, the hallway you’re in now is ominous. Even with the gaudy red hearts. The black, white and red are smothering here. The hallways narrow, but ornate. It’s covered with heart-covered and heart-shaped vases, picture frames, and statues. The hallway’s lit up by heart shaped lamps that glow gray, meant to give off light but feel the room feel so dark. The manic and exaggerated shapes and the monotony of the overwhelming crimson red makes you feel a little tremble.

You take hesitant steps down the hall, scanning them for anything helpful or clues.

“This is…new.” And so far what’s new makes you feel chills. “What is the mirror trying to show me n-”

A deafening roar of <Off With Their HEADS!!!> echoes through the halls and interrupts your thoughts and makes you jump in surprise. The roar makes the decor shake and rattle, some fall and shatter.

You gulp nervously and your heart speeds up. This doesn’t feel right.

Another roar fills the air <SILENCE!!> makes you hasten your footsteps. Whatever’s happening you're missing it, and you need all the help you can get right now.

You run down the hall to nowhere, finding no doorways, until the hall ends. It’s a single door, knee high and heart shaped.

“How the hell am I supposed to-” Another roar fills the hall and breaks a nearby lamp. “Alright, I’m going!” You shove it open and crawl through, and it shrinks around you just to make things worse, After a mild struggle, you finally get through, something better be on the other side-

Something grabs you by the back of your pajamas, and you hauled up to be faced with the King of Hearts.

And he looks angry. <What are you doing here?!> He whisper-yells, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I-I-”

You don’t get to put a word in, and shit must’ve hit the fan hard when you were gone because Winston starts ranting. <What are you, the Cheshire Cat!? You were there one moment and gone the next! I’m stressed out of my mind trying to keep a girl alive and you just keep popping up to make things even more stressful!!!> He pauses for a moment, to recollect himself, <H-How did you even get here?!>

“I used the door-” You turn and point to find no door or wall and instead find a sharp decline into a certain death behind the haphazard judge’s bench. “Nevermind” You quickly finish as you take a nervous step back from the ledge.

<Well, it doesn’t matter you have to->

<Winston, sweetheart, who are you speaking too?> The voice that pipes up is mockingly fond. As if they’re entertaining a child speaking to an imaginary friend. You look past Winston, to see a stout woman that looks suspiciously like the Queen of Hearts.

No seriously, her mocking, smiling face looks so punchable, that it reminds you of Riddle. A heart shaped with high cheekbones, and a glare that rivals Riddle Rosehearts, her black hair is tied up into a rose shape, slick backed, smooth and orderly. Her dress is extravagant even in the field of black and white, red undertones over taking the dress. Her crown is larger than Winston's, cementing to you that she is in charge and he’s unwillingly along for the ride.

She looks like a real person this time. Are your dreams progressing? Becoming more detailed?

Winston looks at her incredulously, you can hear him mutter, <C-Can’t you see her?...> Pointing in your direction confused.

<There’s no one there, Winston. Are you imaging things again?> The King of Hearts spares you a conflicted look, before finally agreeing with her.

<I must be…..> He says after a few long moments.

<Of course sweetheart. How could you survive without me?> She chuckles to herself, and you feel the urge to punch someone again.

A soft voice snaps you out of it. <Um…Your Majesty?> You finally notice Alice from her place down below. She looks a mix of exasperated, confused and terrified as she stands in the defendant’s chair. The Queen redirects her ire back to Alice as soon as she raises her voice. She screams like a banshee and roars like a violent loud animal.

You take advantage of the noise to speak to Winston. “Winston I-”

He interrupts you, losing himself to his ramblings, <I’ve finally lost, haven’t I?> Winston laughs bitterly. <You’re not real, you’re just a figment of my imagination…>

“No. You haven’t and I’m not.” You push, desperate to make him see reason, “Alice has seen me before, I’m real!” You hurriedly whisper-yell.

<HAPPY UNBIRTHDAY TO YOU!> A cake and teapots, and all the fixing that remind you of the buffet yesterday at Heartslabyul. The Queen and nearly everyone in the room are excitedly celebrating while Winston and Alice look exasperated. Seemingly exhausted from the shenanigans that are ensuing before you.

“W-What’s happening?” You raise an eyebrow in complete confusion. Yesterday an unbirthday party made sense because it was a party at a dorm then a trial room with a death sentence.

Winston sighs in abject misery, <A trial. I did it to save Alice from losing her head, but this nonsense is a trial. And I thought back home was crazy.>

You perk up at his words. Back home means that he’s not from wonderland so if that’s the case…Just to be sure, you ask. “You’re not from here?”

He looks at you curiously, still halfway between believing you’re real or not, <I-I’m from London, England. I came here by accident and have been stuck here ever since.>

“You know where London is?” You feel hope bloom in your chest, “Are you from Earth?”

<Yes, but->

You interrupt him in your budding excitement, “Then you have to help me! I’m stuck here, like you and Alice!”

You haul the king up by his shirt. “Would you rather be stuck here forever?! If there’s a way out, we need to take it!” You can ignore the ‘being stuck here ever since’ part for now, because if he and Alice (who are real in this world) come from Earth and know about a way back, then that means there’s a way back to your world from Twisted Wonderland. Alice goes home at the end of the story, so there is a way back home for you in this world. And you need that way out. You just need to get to it.

<I’ll help you on one condition.>

“Anything!”

<Help Alice. I can’t let another person die.> And then he shoves you. And then you're falling. You don’t even get the opportunity to scream as you’re pushed. Falling off that deathly edge, and hitting the floor hard.

“Ow….” Damnit Winston, if you weren’t stuck in the same situation as him, you’d curse him out

<Miss, you’re back!> You slowly open your eyes to see Alice standing over you in worry, still completely black and white. <W-Where did you come from?>

“A place like you.” Alice lights up at your words, “How’s your trial going?” only to deflate five seconds later.

<It doesn’t make any sense, this trial doesn’t follow any rules.> You climb to your feet brushing off the imaginary dust off your dream self.

“No, it does.” You’re forced to admit. “They’re just horrible rules.”

<Well, this really isn’t-> Whatever justifiable statement is cut off by the Queen being undistracted by the unbirthday celebrations.

You don’t even know what happened next.

One moment, Alice is pointing out the Cheshire Cat, her words, on the Queen’s head, and the next the Queen is a mess of jam and her torn flag, with a new bump on her crazy head. And Alice is holding the mallet and jam when the Queen finally clears her eyes.

Winston bangs his head on the judges bench in defeat, at the sight of the mayhem.

“OFFF with-” the Queen interrupts herself, as Alice hurriedly stuffs her face with two pieces of something you don’t recognise. Her eyes go wide for a moment, as her muscles twitch and her body contorts in places. She then grows over a mile high. Because of how rapidly she grew, you end up on the giantess Alice’s shoulders.

<Oh, are you alright?> Alice asks, concerned. You give her a thumbs up in reply as the nausea in your gut trembles, before giving way. Now calmed, knowing one of her few friends here are okay, Alice focuses her attention on the tyrant whose red face has gone pale. <And as for you, Your Majesty….’Your Majesty,’ indeed!> The mushroom that Alice ate causes her to grow as tall as the trial room ceiling is high. You cling to her shoulder with your nails, not wanting to fall from this height. What crack did you smoke last night to dream this? Anyway, Alice takes her moment to finally tell off the pompous queen, with all the confidence that a seven year old can have.

The queen shrinks back in surprise at the seven-year old’s new size, and Alice chooses this to be the time to finally tell off the tyrant.

<Why, you’re not a queen. You’re just a fat, pompous, bad-tempered old ty…tyrant…> As if Alice couldn’t get any more unlucky, the mushroom’s magic wears off as she starts to lay down the facts. Her confidence dies as she shrinks back to size. You tumble off of Alice’s shoulder as she shrinks smaller and smaller. And the longer she speaks, the more the Queen’s glare gets more and more murderous.

<Mmhmmhmmhmm….> You, even at this distance, can see the fear painting across the King’s face and worry on Alice’s. This isn’t good, and the longer the Queen holds that note the more grim those looks become. You embrace the shaking girl. You can hear her whimpers of ear the longer this draws out. <What were you saying, my dear?>

A cat pops onto the head of the Queen, reminding you of Chenya even with the black and white, who parrots the, now shaking, Alice’s words. <Well, she simply said that you’re a fat, pompous, bad tempered old tyrant!> The cat cackles, as the Queen’s face turns red, contrasting the black and white.

You watch as the card soldiers jump from their seats to descend on the two of you as Alice clings to you for dear life, as the card shoulders dive to deliver her to her death sentence.

But before the avalanche of card soldiers obscure everything from view, you can hear the King of Hearts beg his wife and captor to spare the poor girl. <Darling she’s just a child!>

And then the world blurs.

You’re back in your bed. Alice isn’t in your arms anymore, instead it’s Grim.

Why won’t anyone stop the queen? Someone could have stopped her.

AND THEN YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN YOUR EXIT!! FUCK!

Great. Winston had promised to help you if you helped Alice. And now you can’t go back till you go to bed! And that’s if Alice hasn’t gone home or lost her head yet! YAY!

You groan before sitting up, not expecting the violent pain in your neck. You then hiss in pain, just barely managing to massage the flesh locked under the collar.

What a great way to start the morning.

But there was some good news. The tyrant queen will get called out for her tyranny. That’s something to look forward to at the duel today. Still doesn’t make you feel any better though.

“Ugh, Great.” You rub the exhaustion out of your eyes, to be face to face with Grim.

“Hey, ____! Ah, good, you’re already up!”

“Didn’t exactly have the best sleep.” Maybe you should tell grim about your dreams, just in case. But that’s a later thing, “Ready to get these collars off?”

“Yeah!”

Back at the tyrant’s castle, er, Heartslabyul, the residents have all gathered in the magical battlegrounds within the rose garden. Why someone built a magical battlefield in the middle of a flammable rose maze must have been a tyrant themselves, because why someone didn’t bring up the flammable part at some point during the dorm’s construction was a question you’re not stupid enough to come up with an answer to.

Speaking of tyrants, Riddle must have gone on a power trip stoked by his tantrum yesterday. Because the number of students wearing collars, minus or plus Ace and Deuce pick one, has to have doubled in one night. Seriously, a good quarter of the audience has to be wearing collars.

And because of said collars, this duel is going to go south real fast. Because Riddle’s already fucking cheating with his signature spell. Seriously, magic nullification should not be allowed in duels like this but for some reason it is.

But back to the duel of the century, for just Heartslabyul. The dorm residents have been gossiping since your group’s arrival….

“Did you hear? They say someone’s challenged Dorm Leader Rosehearts to a duel!”

“Riddle Rosehearts? Seriously?! Whoever it is has gotta be outta his mind. Riddle will have his head off in five seconds flat.”

…about how stupid this decision was. You mean, you agree, but they’re the ones living under a tyrant. Have a little positivity, everyone.

Thankfully, there are few who have held onto the aforementioned positivity.

“Still, it’s the first challenge since Rosehearts took power. I’m pumped!” In your opinion, the dorm should be like that guy. That guy has a little faith.

Also, Trey apparently didn’t warn Cater about the duel that was probably going viral on Heartslabyul’s Magicam, because he looks completely shocked as you told him about the shit preparing to hit the fan. “You’re saying Ace and Deuce are challenging Riddle for the dorm leader’s seat?! Please tell me you’re kidding!”

You sigh, “I’m not, Cater. Wish I was.”

“We tried to stop ‘em.” Correction, Trey. YOU tried to stop them, he sat there and did nothing like with Riddle. Seriously, the bystander effect is strong with Trey; it's like he’s afraid of saying something when he needs to. Did Riddle’s mom traumatize him too!?

Cater looks positively miserable at the revelation. “Of all the stupid ideas…I just hope this doesn’t make everything worse.”

“You and me both.” Trey agrees, but now you're both curious and concerned. Just how much worse is worse?

Crowley’s clearing of his throat silences the crowd’s chatter. Kinda concerning that he's more focused on two students dueling a dorm leader than the rampant abuse of power that’s going on in this dorm, but whatever it’s not like negligence is a crime or something. Though it probably isn’t given your experience so far.

“We are about to commence two challenges for the dorm leader position at Heartslabyul House.” He announces as grandiose as possible. “The first challenger is Ace Trappola, the second challenger is Deuce Spade. The current housewarden they have challenged is Riddle Rosehearts.”

“Now, in accordance with the duel rules, please remove the magic-sealing collars as they would provide an unfair disadvantage.” Oh, you were waiting for that.

Riddle snaps his fingers and the collars dissolve away into sparks, leaving behind red marks around Ace and Deuce’s necks. Given Ace has been stuck in that thing for two nights you can’t imagine the relief he must feel. “Ah! FINALLY, the dumb collar is off!”

Yours and Grim’s are still on though. Oh, did he just forget that you and Grim were collateral damage to yesterday’s rampage? You can feel your rage rising.

“Enjoy your moment of freedom. The collar will be back on soon enough.” Riddle’s cocky smirk looks so punchable, and you feel an itch in your fingers. Still cockiness might be his downfall.

But before that…..

“Hey, Rosehearts!” You call out, “ Just to point something out,” You say as sarcastically and humorlessly as possible, “could you please remove mine and Grim’s. We’re not even in your dorm!” Riddle sighs, as if you’ve been bugging him about this for hours, before finally unlocking the literal weight around your and Grim’s necks. And you breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” The ‘Asshole’ part goes unsaid, for fear of making this worse.

Now, that the cone of shame on your neck is gone you can let them return back to the pre-duel banter. “Carry on.” You say with a dismissive wave of your hand.

Riddle hmphs, returning his focus back to his two challengers. “I could hardly believe it when I heard you two intended to duel me. Is this a joke?”

There’s a “Do I look like I’m joking?” from Ace and a “I’d never propose a duel as a joke!” from Deuce. They’re not backing down now.

“Hmph. Have it your way. Let us get this over with.” Indeed, let’s get this over with, because you might have a room to clear out when this eventually fizzles out. That doesn’t mean you won’t cheer for Ace and Deuce, Bravery is still something to praise even if it’s on par with stupidity.

But like before, Cater intervenes when he really shouldn’t, “Uh, Riddle, what do you want to do about today's afternoon tea?”

“A foolish question. You know that the rules stipulate I take my tea everyday at 4 PM sharp.” Oh, so he’s cocky that he can finish this in, what, thirty minutes.

“It’s just that it’s already past 3:30….”

“And you fear that I will be late? All the more reason to end this promptly.” So he’s very cocky. You can only hope it will be his downfall.

“It appears I have little time to waste. Rather than facing my opponents in succession, I will take on both at once.” Oh. Wow, he’s…..he’s arrogant if he thinks that. Well, Ace and Deuce are probably screwed.

The cheers of the dorm residents fill the air as stiff and empty as they were yesterday.

“You can do it, Dorm Leader!”

“Knock ‘em dead, sir!”

You can see Trey shake his head to your right, so he still hasn’t said anything. Coward.

“Cowards,” you hear Deuce say, and you agree, because you’re looking right at one. To say that you don’t want to hurt his feelings after a hard time, when you’re letting him force that hard time onto others is the definition of cowardice.

“Myah, I got a bad feelin’ about this.” You squeeze Grim tighter.

“I do too, Grim.”

“Hey, at least we got a plan!” A plan that already hangs on by a thread, Ace but you’ll accept his confidence.

“Headmaster, please give us the signal.” Riddle’s already sure of his victory even before it starts, and he might be right, but a part of you wants him to suffer, just a little.

“When the mirror, I’ve thrown shatters upon the ground, that is your signal to begin. Ready…Go!”

“You guys can do it!” You offer them some encouragement, but….

“OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!” You saw the way this battle ends from miles away.

If you're being generous, you’ll call that another deja vu moment. This insanity of constant ‘beheadings’ is starting to become grating. But, you hope the ending of the calling out part comes sooner rather than later.

“That was…..fast.” You say glumly, it’s sad that they failed so quickly but at least they tried. It had to be, what, 5 seconds into the duel before the collars locked on and it was over. Saddening, upsetting but expected.

Well, now what?

“Visualization is key to spell casting.” Crowley starts an unhelpful speech about magic. It’s not really helpful in this situation, because if Riddle has his way from now on Ace and Deuce are going to be wearing those collars till Riddle graduates. “The better you are at accurately visualizing your magic’s effect, the stronger and more precise it will be.”

“They lost in less than ten seconds, you’re not helping Crowley.” You point out the explicitly obvious, because it doesn’t fucking matter about how visualisation is important when a. They lost before they cast a single spell, and b. They can’t even use their magic to practice now. “Still, it would appear Mr.Rosehearts has finely honed his magic.” Ouch, salt in the wound. Stroke the tyrant’s ego even more too. Crowley’s just batting zero right now.

“Myah…They didn’t stand a chance.” Grim bemoans at the loss.

You sigh, “Well at least they tried….” it wasn’t really an attempt even but at the very least. You force a smile on your face as you approach your two friends, “You guys did your best, or were going to your best..” You add unhelpfully, before giving them each a gentle smile. . You might have to just let them stay it seems.

Ace opens his mouth to reply but someone else does to add their unhelpful commentary. “Hardly. They didn’t even last five seconds.” You can hear Ace and Deuce growl as you turn to face the cocky tyrant.

That cocky, self-righteous brat keeps adding his unwanted opinion. “That was all you had, and still you thought to challenge me? You must be utterly humiliated.”

You glare at him, “You won already. Stop rubbing it in.”

Riddle’s too high on his high horse to seem to be aware of what happens below. “I guess my mother was right. A man who cannot follow rules is a man who cannot achieve anything.” You’re going to put a knife between that woman’s eyes if you ever meet up. Mommy undearest’s parenting has screwed him up so much that he’s doing the same thing to the people he lives with.

If Ace or Deuce actually won this battle he probably would have been run out of the dorm.

“Tch…We agree that rules should be followed. But forcing others to follow nonsensical rules like the ones you’ve enacted is tyranny!”

“Then you agree that breaking the rules is wrong. And in this dorm, I AM the rules.” Is…is he serious? Did he miss the second part of Deuce’s sentence? “Therefore, those who cannot abide by my decisions deserve not the heads they use to complain!”

You had enough of this.

You’ve bit your tongue bloody, thanks to this brat’s tyranny. You've been inconvenienced again and again because of his pretentious and frankly ridiculous rules.

Screw manners, screw survival, and screw this red-haired little absolutist pain the ass! “But that’s not right! You can’t just use the rules to do whatever you please!” You yell in fury.

“I am the one who decides what is wrong and right-”

You cut him off. “And you’re also a pain in the neck and the ass, that pretends he’s the perfect student that can do no wrong, because mommy said so!” His eyes widen in shock as you finally, finally go off the leash you tethered to yourself this entire time. And you’re not done. “How can you be so blinded by your own delusions that you can’t even see how unreasonable it is to follow, frankly, the most STUPID of rules!?!” You can feel your cheeks warming and the blood in your ears roaring in boiling hot fury. You can feel someone try to calm your rage with a hand, Deuce’s, on your shoulder. You’re pissed and tired and angry and what does he do?

He continues talking like you didn’t say anything. “If there were no penalties, no one would follow the rules.” You;re going to punch him.

“You!-” What he says next cuts your thoughts and words off completely.

“What sort of pitiful education have you received, that you cannot follow such simple rules? Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. As a result…you lack even the basic education necessary to attend a school such as this. It’s quite sad.”

You blink, taken aback. The rage in you is stunned into pacification.

He did not.

He did not just say that about you.

“You-” You can’t even string your thoughts together completely stunned. You can forgive someone being unreasonableYou feel something different from rage, something stronger, boiling inside you.

“You little…” Deuce releases you, prepared to pummel the tyrant into the ground but…..

“You shut your spoiled little mouth!” Ace dashes forward fist raised and-

He punches Riddle clean across the face.

Hard enough to knock Riddle off his feet. Ace quite literally beat Deuce to the punch.

So many voices speak up in shock and surprise at Riddle, the untouchable dorm leader, finally eating his just desserts. Right in the face too.

You don’t say anything, staring at what’s about to unfold, with a blank expression.

“That’s all I can take. Forget Riddle. Forget the duel. I’m done.” Just like Alice in your dreams last night, calls out the now stunned red sovereign.

“That hurt! You…p-punched me?!” Riddle’s genuinely stunned. Is stunned by his house of cards finally starting to collapse around him? You can’t bring yourself to care.

Ace spits some facts.

“Kids aren’t trophies for their parents to flaunt. And the accomplishments of a child aren’t determined by the worth of their parents. It’s not your parents’ fault you became a tyrant -or anyone else’s. You’ve been here a year and haven’t even made a friend who will tell you you’re outta line. And that’s on you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Yeah, maybe you had some rigid upbringing from a relentless helicopter-mom. Is that all you are? An extension of her? Can’t you think for yourself? You call yourself the ‘red sovereign’. You’re just a baby who’s good at magic.”

“Baby…? Did you just call me a ‘baby’?! You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know anything about anything!” But despite the honest truths that Ace is trying to make the pretentious tyrant hear for what has to be the first time in his life, Riddle refuses to listen.

“Nope, sure don’t. And I don’t need to. Your attitude tells me all I need to know- that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat!” Ace doesn’t let up on the lecture Riddle probably needed to hear last year.

Riddle’s face is starting to turn pink from his blind anger. “Shut up, shut up, shut UP! My mother was right! And that means I’m right too!” Riddle practically roars in anger. He’s shaking from barely repressed rage.

Trey steps between them to prevent what has to be a near disaster, trying to pacify the screaming tyrant. “Riddle, calm down. The duel is already over.”

“Mr. Clover is correct.” Crowley The challenger has been disqualified due to physical violence. If you do not cease your conflict now, I’ll have you written up for breaking school rules!” But even with the threat of breaking his own personal rules and being a rule breaker himself doesn’t soothe his rage. It doesn’t matter here anyway, because as long as no one is willing to stand up to-

“Ace is right, though! I’ve had enough of Riddle!” A voice in the crowd shouts, and he throws something small aimed directly at Riddle’s head.

An egg cracks in Riddle’s hair. Egg goop trails down his face. You fight back a laugh with all your willpower. Well, color you impressed. The card soldiers aren't completely useless, brain dead drones.

For half a second everyone is frozen solid. And then the egg practically cooks on Riddle’s face as he searches for the offender, completely infuriated. “Who did that? Who threw that egg?!”

And this time, the silence feels both suffocating and glorious. At least the cowards have finally stood up for themselves, at least a little. Unfortunately Riddle, instead of taking the obvious hint the egg to the face was, he laughs. And it’s not a composed one.

“Heh heh…Ah ha ha ha!” It’s an insane one.

Riddle snaps at all of the now cowering dorm students“You say YOU’RE fed up?! I’M the one who’s fed up with all of YOU!”

“No matter how strict I am, no matter how many heads I remove, you keep breaking the rules! All any of you care about is doing what YOU want to do! If the guilty party won’t come forward, then I’ll pass judgment on all of you!”

“Clearly, none of you value your heads! OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!!!” Like a tyrant gone wild, collars lock on to every single one of the residents' necks, save Trey and Cater, sealing off their magic. You’re getting real tired of hearing that.

The Heartslabyul residents scatter like headless, heh pun unintended but fitting, chickens. “Bwaaah! Let’s get out of here!” “Urrrgh!”

Riddle, reassured that his tyranny will last, shoves past Ace to rub in his ‘victory’ to Ace.“How do you like that, hm? Now no one can do a thing to me! Do you see now? My strict adherence to the rules was clearly the correct path!”

Crowley still does nothing to calm, or now that Riddle’s actually broken some rules, to punish Riddle for this insanity. “Cease this improper behavior now, Mr. Rosehearts. I expect better from you!”

“Crowley, could you maybe actually do something!?!” You finally point out the utter stupidity of him not doing anything while Riddle literally abuses his power.

“Uh…Trey, if he keeps using his spell…This could get ugly, fast!” You barely hear Cater over the chaos.

Trey does, still trying to separate the fuming Riddle away from Ace and a catastrophe. “Riddle, stop this!”

Ace might be perspective but he’s incapable of reading the room when shit really starts to go bad. “Wow, way to totally prove me wrong here, pal! I call you a baby and you immediately throw a temper tantrum!”

Riddle’s face goes deep crimson. “Retract your comment immediately, or I shall skewer you where you stand!” He yells.

This might not be good.

Ace doesn’t let up “No way. I ain’t retraction’ squat.”

Face red, eyes full of rage and mania, Riddle’s reached the point of fury where words are impossible and yells of anger are the only sounds that can be made. “YEEEAAARGH!!!”

“Dude, this is bad! You’ve G-2-G, now!” You feel a hand on your wrist, Cater's, dragging you away from the rampaging tyrant.

And then you're blinded by the debris.The earth shakes for too long as the rose bushes are yanked out of the earth, the fragile yet heavy bushes floating high in the air. Ripped up from their earth , roots and all, and float in mid-air. The roses and their thorny brambles writhe under Riddle’s magic.

Debris and dirt float through the air, alongside the rose bushes.

“W…Whoa…” You take a nervous step back, “Shit.”

“The rose trees! They’re floating!”

“This is some serious magic!”

The roses and their brambles might not be the strongest weapon, but Riddle’s magical strength is powerful, as you watch the roses and branches become arrows, perfect for tearing flesh from bone and crushing the rest.

“Mighty roses, tear this brute to pieces!” Riddle yells, completely blinded at his anger. The roses, thorns and all fly like arrows aimed directly at Ace. A deadly shot, if it lands.

“Ace! MOVE!” You dash forward, but a pair of arms are around your waist holding you back from the barrage of arrows aimed at your friend. You look around frantically and you see who’s stopping you from helping the first friend you made here. It’s Deuce. When did he get next to you? Nevermind. “Lemme go! Ace needs help!”

Deuce shakes his head with a remorseful expression. “I can’t let you get hurt!”

Since you can’t get to Ace, “Crowley! DO something!” You yell at the Headmaster who’s done jack diddly since Riddle’s tantrum progressed into hemorrhage. All he’s done here is politely ask Riddle to stop, and Ace might actually die if Riddle keeps at this.

“Cease and desist at once!” Crowley doesn’t do anything, but yells at him to stop, and Riddle’s already too angry to listen.

But it’s too late for any one to push Ace out of the way,

“ACE!” You can’t even shut your eyes as the roses and brambles come down. You take back every thing you’ve ever said about Ace, and this world if it means you don’t witness him being killed….

…..By playing cards?

Instead of roses and their thorns tearing Ace to shreds….playing cards fall from the sky.

“Huh? I’m still alive?” Ace is as stunned as you and everyone else here.

Deuce is probably as stunned as you, because his arms go limp, and you practically tackle Ace, “Are you okay!?” Your arms and legs are jelly from adrenaline, but you manage to stumble over and check him over with trembling hands.

“Y-Yeah,”He answers and you sigh in clear relief. What’s with all these playing cards?”

“All the rose trees turned into cards?” Deuce is right, All the roses and their brambles are gone. Instead it’s all playing cards. And nothing more. How did that even happen?!

Wait. Deja vu again, this keeps happening. Cards falling against an innocent. But there’s no time for that.

Because Riddle’s face is murderous, and his grip on his magical staff is so tight it could have snapped in half. He raises it again, prepared to recast as “Why didn’t you-”

Deuce dives in between you and Ace, to act as human shield but Trey stops him, shielding you all from Riddle’s view. “Riddle, stop this right now!” Oh, so NOW Trey decides enough is enough, murder was the last straw. Wonderful.

“Wait, is that Trey’s ‘Paint the Roses’?! But…how?!” You can hear a confused Cater, and thank goodness, because Trey saved Ace’s life.

“All the magic sealin’ collars are gone!” Grim’s right, You didn’t even notice in the mayhem. Ace and Deuce, and probably all the Heartslabyul residents, all have their magic-sealing collars removed.

“What did I tell you? My magic can overwrite characteristics for a short time. So I used it to make ‘Riddle’s magic’ into ‘my magic’.” Trey’s explanation lets you breathe a sigh of genuine relief. At least now, Riddle is defenseless.

“You can do that? That’s some kinda loophole!” And a lucky loophole to test on someone about to die.

Meanwhile in Crazy town, Riddle’s discovered his magic’s no longer his own. “N-no…Off with their heads! I SAID, off with their heads!” Every attempt Riddle makes to cut off everyone’s magic just causes more and more playing cards to fly out. But depending on how short the time Trey’s magic can work, that might not be for long. Especially with how many times Riddle tries recasting.

Trey finally puts his foot down. “Riddle, stop. Can’t you see how you look right now?”

You can’t believe that this is what it took to finally open the eyes of the residents. Ace nearly being murdered because Riddle’s ego got bruised. At least now, their eyes have been opened to the true extent of Riddle’s cruelty.

Which they decide to vocalize in the presence of the tyrant with the bruised ego. They’re not very smart. are they?

“He…he was really gonna do it!” “He is completely out of control.” “He’s like some kinda monster!”

Thankfully, and unfortunately, Riddle isn’t focused on that. Instead, he’s more concerned with the fact that his magic isn’t his anymore. And Trey is the reason. “What? Was my magic overwritten by yours? Does that mean your signature spell is stronger than mine?!” He demands, turning on the only one who ever really defended him in his madness.

“Of course it doesn’t. Riddle, take a deep breath and listen to us.” Trey tries to reason, but it’s too late for Riddle to be reasonable, with him already lost in the throes of his anger.

You start to feel a chill up your spine, like back in the mines with that monster. But why are you-

Still completely unreasonable, Riddle’s still deaf to Trey's words, “Are YOU going to tell me that I’m wrong too? After all I’ve done to protect the rule of law?! Do you know how much I’ve suffered for this?! I…I refuse to believe this!” That chill gets worse, and the ominous and malicious feeling you’re getting from Riddle gets worse. Something much darker. A line of dark blood drips from Riddle’s nose. Wait, that’s not blood. Blood isn’t….black.

You might be angry about earlier, but unlike Riddle, you haven’t lost your wits. You can tell when things are nose-diving into a downward spiral at terminal velocity. Because the longer Riddle spits his mad ravings, the more of that black stuff comes out.

You normally wouldn’t do this, mostly because you want to punch the bastard. But that inky stuff has to be a bad omen. “Riddle, you need to calm down.” You try to soothe the raging beast, even though you’re sure that this is a bad idea. “You don’t want to be a rulebreaker, right? So just calm down and we’ll talk this out.”

“Wha-OW!” Ace looks at you as if you’d gone insane too, but you elbowed him harshly in the gut.

Riddle’s angry glare falls on you. And you could see the veins starting to twitch under his skin. If he gets any more angry, then he might have a stroke. “ I! AM NOT! A RULE BREAKER!” He yells, his own rage leaving him breathless. “AND YOU! OF ALL PEOPLE! HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT!”

“I’m just trying to calm you down, you don’t really want to break the rules by hurting anyone, do you?” You hope he doesn’t actually want to hurt anyone. Plus, you’re really not ready to witness someone’s death.

Riddle’s face is so red, it looks like it might explode. And his glare could kill you and cook the remains with how fiery it is.

He snaps, his voice laden with venom.

“YOU! DARLINGS LIKE YOU! ARE WHY WE NEED THE RULES! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY THAT TO ME!”

…..What.

Did he just-

No way, he just did. He did.

Shit. Shit...SHIT.

FUCK YOU, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS!

You did NOT go through all that shit for him to reveal it to everyone here in a fit of rage. No fuck him, fuck this, whatever shit he has going on can wait because you need this bastard’s neck to be the other way round.

You feel fire burn under your skin. You’re gonna-

“Wait, wha-” You hear , and you don’t even have the ability to freeze up in terror. Because you gotta disperse the potential nightmare of Ace and Deuce finding out. Even if they don’t believe him, the doubt will remain. So you’re basically fried.

“It’s nothing!” You frantically yell to cut off whatever Ace or Deuce were going to say as fast as you can as you feel your heart speed up in total panic. You’ll be lucky if they think this is a psychotic rambling of a raging tyrant. This just keeps getting worse and worse for you.

If Riddle doesn’t get killed in this madness, then he owes you an apology and you owe him a big, fat fist to the face.

Meanwhile as you prepare for your own mental breakdown, Crowley maintains his complete and utter uselessness, even though he probably has the power to stop this. “Cease immediately, Mr. Rosehearts! Any further attempt to use magic will leave your magestone completely tainted with blot!”

What is blot?!

And why is Riddle-

“But….I’m right! I’M the one who’s right! There is NO! POSSIBLE! ALTERNATIVE!” Thick, black inky substance comes out of his eyes and ears.

“Riddle, stop!” Trey’s words can’t pull Riddle out of his madness and likely never will.

Because all that black ink dripping out of nearly every pore, staining his skin and clothes, pools around him for only a few seconds. Before it engulfs him, swallowing him whole.

And like a caterpillar metamorphosing into a horrific butterfly…..

…..he comes out a monster.

Like a horrible chrysalis bursting open, Riddle comes out changed.

His skin is so pallid, the color could have been mistaken for bone. A red flame is positioned over his right eye, glowing an unnatural color. The ink that bleed out of his skin sticks to his arm and face like tar. And most identifiably, he’s dressed like the Queen of Hearts. Sort of, if she was beheaded and her body was thrown in her beloved rose garden to be torn apart by the hedgehogs. (A fitting fate in your eyes)

The tyrant has changed to match his predecessor, both over-controlling monsters.

But that’s not the most terrifying part of it.

There’s also the giant hulking beast tethered to Riddle’s back. And that’s the most defining feature. Because that thing matches your dreams of the Queen of Hearts. The monster is dressed in a dress nearly identical to the one from your second dream. She’s even carrying a rose bush, torn from another world’s ground.

This is not good. And you’re suddenly very afraid of what will happen next.

The possessed? Riddle cackles, “You are fools to defy me! You are not welcome in my world. In my world, I am the law. I am order made manifest!” His voice is warped and distorted as if someone otherworldly is speaking through him.

“The only response I will accept from you is ‘Yes, Dorm Leader Riddle.’ All who defy me will lose their heads! Ah ha ha ha HA!”

“Dear me, what have I done? I’ve allowed a student to overblot in my presence!” What the fuck is overblot!?

“Crowley? What the HELL is overblot!?” You demand an explanation to this madness, because Riddle is both a monster, and has a massive monster connected to his spine. Seriously, what the shit is this!?!

“Overblot is a dangerous condition that mages must avoid at all costs. At the moment, he is overcome by negative energy and has lost control of his magic and emotions.”

“Okay but what does that mean?!”

“Please explain!”

“To put it in layman’s terms, he’s in evil berserker mode!”

“If he keeps releasing magical energy, we could be looking at a loss of life here- his included.”

“WHAT!” You feel your eye twitch, “CROWLEY! WHY DIDN’T YA JUST TELL ME ALL THIS SHIT WHEN I GOT HERE!!” It can’t be that hard, can it? How hard is it to give the unfortunate transfer student from another world or dimension a simple crash-course of ‘hey, here’s some things you should know about our world!’, for crap’s sake.

“Ms. ____-”

“Nevermind, Crowley! We’ll deal with the evil giant monster thing now, I’ll freak out later!” And freak out you will. Riddle outed you, overblotted and could kill someone or multiple someones if this shit goes south. Forget punching him, you’re going to beat him so bad that smug arrogant face of his will be unrecognizable when you're done with him.You are fucking tired of this shit already, and when you think it’s bad it just gets worse.

“Yes! The well-being of my students is my top priority. Therefore, I must evacuate them immediately.”

“Y-You’re not staying?”. You say weakly. Was the bar for headmaster requirements in hell? Yes, there is a giant monster/dorm leader attacking the running and hiding Heartslabyul residents but this is a MAGIC school for shit’s sake. “No, but as for Mr.Rosehearts, we must restore his consciousness before his magical energy runs dry.” Damnit Crowley! “For as bad as losing him would be, there are scenarios that are far worse…” WHAT’S WORSE?!?!

“Listen well: I need all of you to seek help from the other housewardens and members of faculty.” But how the hell are going to all evacuate and summon the other housewardens if Riddle is-

While the exposition dump was happening, the beast behind Riddle follows his body movements, and still fueled by all the anger that caused this whole mess to start in the first place, raises the rose bush like a club, prepared to strike down one of the unfortunate Heartslabyul students.

Ace and Deuce finally allowed to use their magic, do what they’ve wanted to do since yesterday. Strike the pretentious dorm leader down.

“HIIYAH! TAKE THAT!” A strong magical gust knocks the beast’s weapon away from its original target. And annoys the furious Riddle.

“Huh!? Trey, Cater and Crowley look and sound bewildered at the attack, but you feel a rush of pride.

“I summon thee, cauldron!” Deuce takes advantage of Riddle’s change in focus to strike. With his infamous cauldron spell. Riddle manages to dodge it, but at least he’s not attacking the students any more!

“MYAH!” Grim leaps out of your arms to join the attacks, sending a wave of blue fire along with Ace and Deuce’s own attacks.

Now even more pissed ( a surprise to be honest) Riddle fumes at their lack of submission. “What do you fools think you’re doing?”

“Um, hello?! 911? We’ve got an idiot emergency!” Cater’s internet talk doesn’t fade in times of high stress.

Grim, acting unlike his usual selfish self, actually points out the most frightening part of this, “You DID hear that part about how reeeal bad things are happenin’ with him, right?!”

“That’s why we need to stop him now! I don’t want that on my conscience!” Yah, Riddle straight up sucks but risking the deaths of others to save yourself from certain death is cowardly, and unlike the rampager, you’re not a hypocrite.

“And I’m not givin’ up till I hear him say, ‘I was wrong and I’m sorry.’”

You’re convinced, “Yeah, he owes me an apology for the shit he put me through!!”

“All right, let’s do this. I can overwrite his magic for a little longer. In the meantime, do what you can! Headmage, please evacuate the other students!”

“Wait! This is dangerous!”

“Are you S-R-S, Trey? You can’t beat Riddle!”

“So what, you’re not even gonna fight unless you KNOW you can win?”

“Yeah, he’s right. That’s weak.”

“This is the only way we can think of to snap him out of this!”

“Yeah…I don’t want to lose him. There’re too many things I’ve left unsaid.”

“We just have to do this, whatever it takes!” You might not be able to do magic, but you’ll help….somehow.

“Ugh, I do NOT like or subscribe to this, but fine!”

Ngh…I’ll be back as soon as I’ve gotten the students to safety. Stand firm until then!”

“Such defiance, from every last one of you! I shall take all of your heads!”

“Riddle’s body can’t take much more of this. We need to stop him before it’s too late!”

Things are going…..well enough.

Because how in every layer of hell can you describe this? At all? It’s not everyday that you watch a magician go into berserker mode and try to kill his ‘underlings’ or really equals he’s un/knowingly been abusing for who knows how long?

Here’s the good news.

Trey’s magic makes the fight easier for them. Replacing Riddle’s UM makes the battle actually possible.

Cater’s Spilt Card, makes the perfect distraction ones, that he can use as human shields as Riddle strikes.

Even Ace, Deuce and Grim’s inexperience manages to turn the tide. Wind, cauldrons and fire join a barrage of more sophisticated and more complicated spells of the third-years is the perfect combination of brute strength and complicated strategy.

But here’s the bad news.

Riddle’s fast. Very fast.

For every one spell the others cast, Riddle can cast two. and moves twice as fast to replace every one Trey replaces. Which should be impossible with all of his magical energy and life force being drained away but it seems whether he’s a horrific monster or a tyrannical dictator, he’s still a magical prodigy.

What your friends need is a distraction. And they need one fast. And while you might not have magic, you’re not completely powerless here.

Why?

Because Riddle’s earlier pique was kind enough to dislodge plenty of stones that once were the floor of the battle ground. Small and light enough for you to carry. Large and heavy enough to leave a nasty bruise or a nice headache.

All you hope is that you have good aim. Because this better land right in the face.

Even with the hail of magic sending wind, ice, fire, cauldrons and other magical bursts in Riddle’s direction, you’re safely hidden in the background and the beast attached to him is otherwise preoccupied with the aforementioned magic, so it’s easy to sneak away.

You wrap your hand around one of the loose stones of the destroyed battlegrounds, and sneak behind the bushes till you’re a good distance away from the others with a broad distance away from him and that monster. “Hey Rosehearts!” You yell.

He turns to you with a death glare that could actually cut off your head. But as soon as his gaze has fallen on you, you throw the stone as hard as you can.

It hits him square in the forehead.

Riddle doesn’t even have the time to cry out in pain, as he and the phantom monster stumble back, dazed.

“HA! Take that you controlling bastard!” Sure, you’re saving his life in the process, but considering he just outed you, kicking his ass through this is actually one hell of a relief.

Everyone takes advantage of the distraction you made to send another barrage of magic against Riddle. Still dazed from your strike to his head, probably combined with the damage the overblot was taking on his body, he’s much slower.

So now, every strike lands without fail, and Riddle barely has time to retaliate now. And that changes the tide of the battle.

With every new strike, the monster’s body starts to distort and parts of its body start to writhe and twist. The darkness glowing underneath starts to distort and warp. The roots holding it to Riddle's body start to sever. The monster’s distorted roars start to soften, turning weaker.

“Is it over?” You ask. You feel safe enough to go closer, now that the monster’s body starts to sway and collapse. Riddle looks like he’s about to pass out. “Is he going to die?”

“He better not. He still needs to apologize to me!” Ace

You sigh in relief for half a second. And the blot around Riddle swarms him.

You don’t know what switched on within you. You hate this guy. You want to see him suffer a little, or more specifically a lot.

“Henchman!”

So you don’t know why you ran when you did, or why you grabbed Riddle’s wrist like a vice right before his body disappeared into the mess of dark ink. You grabbed on as tight as you can, just as the monster finally burst.

Thick ink, scalding hot like Riddle’s burning rage, hits your skin and burns your face. You scream in reflex, and your mouth burns from the hot, bitter ink entering it. You choke on the blot. It burns. It coats you, covers you, drowns you and your vision swims. But your grip doesn’t let up.

“_____!!!” You hear many voices screaming your name. But you can’t see them. The burning black ink falls like rain, obscuring your friends from view.

All you can feel is that overwhelmingly painful and smothering burn of the ink…but the last thing your senses pick up on before you pass out isn’t the burn on your skin, the bitterness in your mouth, or the voices of your friends.

It’s a voice.

“I…was wrong?! But that’s…impossible…”

A sad, anguished voice. The sad, anguished voice of Riddle Rosehearts.

“Isn’t it….Mother?”

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandereverse au #yandere twst x reader

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 18 days ago

Text

Blood singer, part 3

Summary: Hiding from the storm, Jasper is tested as he finds himself close to Y/N for much longer than he had hoped.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, detailed descriptions including physical harm

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 10.1k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

Teeth chattering, Y/N clings to Jasper, even though his skin is just as cold as hers, if not colder. It's counterproductive. She knows that, but her body refuses to let go. Logic says she should pull away, give him space and stop abusing his kindness, but his touch feels like salvation.

There’s no fire in his hands, only ice. Yet somehow, it burns. It seeps deep into her bones, awakening a part of her soul she long set to rest. All her life, she craved warmth, Paul’s warmth. That human, familiar kind. But this? This icy flame Jasper lights in her makes her feel more alive than any heat ever could.

And God, the way he smiles at her.

Her heart skips a beat every time his lips curl just slightly, just enough to incite the feeble muscle on a course of pure insanity. His voice alone seems to unravel her nerves, twisting her up and settling her all at once, disturbing the rhythm of her pulse. Even now, with his jaw tight and posture stiff, like he's trying to hold himself back from something, he looks at her like she’s the only thing anchoring him.

As he walks inside the cabin, she inhales deeply. To her dismay, she knows he needs to put her down. He can't carry her forever.

So she taps his shoulder lightly. “You can let me go now,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry,” Jasper murmurs, his voice smooth but a little too strained, like it takes effort to speak. He lowers her carefully onto the couch, his movements overly cautious, as if touching her too long might break his control.

She shakes her head, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I’m not.”

He licks his lips, clearly flustered, and then offers her one more of those slow, devastating smiles that could stop the world from spinning. It damn near stops her heart and she has to physically restrain herself from squealing like a teenager with a crush. This can’t be healthy. She doesn’t even know him. Not really.

But he makes her feel… light.

Like the darkness inside her, all the anxiety, the pain, the pressure was never even there. She doesn’t understand it, but something in her soul recognizes him. She feels safe with him. Maybe a little too safe.

“I should set up the fireplace,” Jasper says, finally breaking the moment, “Warm up the place.” He nods toward the hallway behind him. “You’ll find some dry clothes in the bedroom. Help yourself.”

“Thanks,” she says, standing with a wobble. She’s soaked to the bone and freezing, and any clothing that’s not clinging to her like a second skin will be a step up.

The bedroom is warm, bathed in honey-colored light from a small lamp in the corner. The bed is centered beneath a large, tinted window, and a closet stands tall beside it. It’s simple. Rustic. Comforting. She wonders if this is his room, if he chose this color palette, if amber is his favorite shade.

Bracing for some vintage cowboy fashion, she opens the closet, only to freeze.

Dozens of dresses greet her. Not jeans. Not flannel. Not even a dusty old hat. Just designer dresses; sleek, expensive, feminine. Her jaw drops.

“What the actual fuck…” she whispers, flipping through them. Labels that most people would kill for. Some are still tagged. Others look barely worn. A chill races down her spine, this time not from the cold.

Why the hell does Jasper have a wardrobe full of high-end women’s clothing?

Her heart rate spikes.

Did he break into this place? Was he following her? Did he plan this? Is she in a damn Lifetime movie?

The thoughts spiral faster than her heart can keep up. She doesn’t even know where they are. What if he brought her here on purpose? What if…

“You alright, darlin’?”

She gasps, whipping around so fast her wet hair slaps her neck. Jasper’s leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, that unreadable look on his face. He seems calm, but his eyes…they’re a little too sharp. A little too dark…Where has the golden gone?

Still, the way his presence makes her nerves soothe is suspicious. She recognizes it now. It’s as if he is doing something. Jasper’s presence feels like a weighted blanket, steadying her breathing, grounding her thoughts. She swallows hard.

“Be honest,” she says. “You’re not, like…a criminal or something, are you?”

His brow arches, and he lets out a soft, breathless chuckle. “What? Why would you think that?”

“I mean, look.” She gestures wildly toward the closet. “You have, like, a dozen high-fashion dresses in here. Unless you’re secretly married or have a very niche hobby, this looks like a setup. Like… a really weird hostage situation.”

Amusement sparks in his darkened eyes. “It’s my brother’s cabin,” he says with a lazy shrug. “His wife’s real into fashion. Leaves her stuff here.”

She stares at him, wishing the ground would just swallow her whole. But Jasper only grins wider, clearly enjoying this far too much. If he thinks she’s amusing now, he should see her with her claws out. Might erase that confident smirk right off his face.

“But if you’re into roleplay,” he adds, voice low and teasing, “I won’t put up a fight.”

She snorts, folding her arms across her chest as she leans against the closet. “Might take you up on that, Cowboy.”

His grin turns lopsided, lazy and cocky, but his eyes stay locked on hers, darker now, like storm clouds just before a downpour. The warmth that spreads through her is instant, crawling beneath her damp skin, finding a home low in her belly. He doesn’t even have to touch her to ignite something. The way he looks at her is dangerous. Addictive. Trouble with a capital T. Girls probably fall for him in seconds. But Y/N? She’s far too proud to admit she desires him openly, resorting to teasing. Her specialty isn’t the fire most are drawn to, it’s ice. Cold, calculating, distant when she needs to be.

And yet…

There’s something in his stillness that mirrors hers. Something cool. Controlled. Until it’s not.

She shifts slightly, and Jasper’s eyes dip, just for a second. She doesn’t miss it. Neither does he. Her shirt is soaked clean through, clinging to her skin in all the worst ways. The thin fabric does nothing to hide the curve of her breasts or the black, lacy bra covering them. She knows she should be embarrassed.

She’s not.

Not when Jasper’s shirt is just as wet. Just as translucent. She can see every line of his chest, the way it narrows down to his waist, the sharp dip of his collarbones and the delicious happy trail. And damn him, he knows it. Knows exactly what kind of effect he’s having on her.

“You know,” she drawls, voice silky, “I was going to change out of these clothes. But… With you standing there, giving me a nice view, it feels a little unfair not to return the favor for a moment or two longer.”

Jasper’s brow lifts slightly, a slow smirk tugging at the corner his mouth. “You think I haven’t noticed, darlin’? Been tryin’ not to stare like a gentleman.”

“Failing miserably,” she murmurs, stepping toward him, a single step, measured. Testing.

Jasper’s throat bobs as he swallows. His hands curl into fists at his sides, his jaw ticking, but he doesn’t move back. Doesn’t breathe. And she feels it, his presence wrapping around her, trying to still her racing heart. Trying to calm her, like she’s some wild creature that might bolt if he makes a wrong move. How does he do that?

One thing is certain. She’s not running. Not tonight.

She takes another step, now close enough to reach out. And she does, just lightly brushing the soaked fabric over his chest with the back of her fingers. His shirt clings like a second skin, and he tenses beneath her touch, muscles rippling beneath her fingertips. Still, he lets her, almost as if he’s been waiting for her to make a move.

“You’re freezing,” she murmurs. She doesn’t mention his hard muscles. She’s never touched someone like that, ripped to the point of feeling like marble.

His voice comes out rougher than it was a moment ago. “So are you.”

“So warm me up.”

His gaze sharpens like a blade. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

She meets his gaze head on, daring him. “Maybe I do.”

That breaks some of his resolve. Not all the way, but enough.

Jasper closes the distance between them with terrifying, graceful ease, pressing her into the closet door. One of his hands lifts, fingers grazing the curve of her jaw, trailing just beneath her ear. It’s such a gentle touch, but the way her body shivers under his fingertips drives him insane.

“You’re playin’ with fire,” he says, voice low, the southern drawl thicker now. Rougher. It drips with warning. Hunger. “And fire melts ice, sweetheart.”

Y/N smirks, heart beating far too fast. She’s not letting him believe he’s winning though. “I thought you were cold.”

He lets out a soft, humorless chuckle, but his eyes stay locked on hers, black with no gold in sight, wild, and aching. “I am. That’s the problem.”

Did he…Did he imply he’s she’s the fire melting him? Good, she thinks. I’m winning. And if she must become a flame to get this man to surrender, she will let the fire reign.

His thumb brushes over her bottom lip, featherlight, but it leaves her dizzy. She should move. She should think. But all her body wants is more.

Jasper leans in just slightly, like gravity’s pulling him closer against his will. She can feel the tension in him, how tightly wound he is, how hard he’s working to stay in control. He wants her. That much is obvious. But it’s not just want. It’s something deeper. Something almost dangerous.

And she’s loving every second of it.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over her lips.

Her lips part, but no sound comes. Her heart thunders, her skin tingles, and every inch of her screams for more. Her voice, when it finally emerges, is soft and certain.

“I’m not that nice.”

Jasper closes his eyes for a moment, just one, and when they open again, there’s a war inside them. Then, with a breath that sounds almost like a growl, he steps back. Just far enough to put space between them, yet close enough for her to still feel him.

“Get changed,” he says, voice strained. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

Y/N bites back a smile, the heat in her chest flaring. “You regret things easily?”

His eyes drag over her one more time, lingering like a promise. “Only if I mess ‘em up.”

“If you don’t want to touch, it’s fine by me.” She lets the words hang, tilting her head slightly as a devilish smirk appears on her lips. “But you’re free to look if you want to stay for the show?”

His eyes darken, not with lust, exactly, but something more primal. His eyes meet hers. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Doesn’t blink.

Her heart skips three beats and then pounds back with a vengeance. The room is quiet. Too quiet. She swallows hard, and the blush creeping up her neck gives her away. Jasper notices. His stern expression softens into something tender, almost…shy.

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’,” he says, voice is low. “I’ll leave you to it,” he murmurs, offering a small nod.

And with that, he turns, disappearing down the hall, leaving her to catch her breath and pretend like her knees aren’t shaking. She finally lets out the breath she’s been holding and her lungs feel like they just ran a marathon. She plants her hands on her knees, trying to steady herself.

Jasper is going to be the death of her. And for once…she doesn’t mind the idea. She’s rarely ever pursued men like this. It’s as if the mere thought of him is bringing her to the brink of madness. Whatever it may be, Jasper is different. Something isn’t quite right about him or the way his presence causes her to act and yet she finds no regrets about any of it.

She was wrong about Paul. She might be wrong about Jasper. To hell with consequences! Her heart’s broken anyway. It may fracture to the point of no return…or it may heal. Feeling this drawn to someone is rare. Of course, it could be caused by her near death experience and yet she doesn’t care. She’ll discover it along the way and the way might be leading her straight to hell, but at least she’ll make sure she enjoys the ride.

The closet is full of surprises. She pushes hangers aside until her fingers brush against silk. Her eyes catch the shimmer of crimson, a deep, blood-red nightgown tucked in the far back. It’s soft, almost liquid to the touch, sliding like water through her fingers. When she pulls it out, her brows lift in surprise. It’s... simple. Elegant. A little sexy without trying to be. The kind of fabric that kisses the skin when you move. It falls to mid-thigh, the top a delicate web of lace that dips low, supported by slim, almost invisible straps. No sleeves. No bra. No armor.

She hesitates, her heart doing that annoying flutter thing again.

She slips it on anyway. Over it, she finds a matching robe, same rich crimson, edged in subtle lace, loose enough to keep things comfortable but tied snugly around her waist. The cool silk caresses her skin and clings in places it probably shouldn’t.

Her reflection in the small mirror over the dresser stops her. For a second, she doesn’t recognize herself. She looks like she’s about to seduce a man instead of relax by the fireplace until the storm ends.

With a sigh that’s half exasperation and half laughter, she gathers her hair up into a messy bun, strands falling loose around her ears. The motion exposes her neck, pale and vulnerable. She considers letting her hair back down but... no. She likes the honesty of this. It feels brave in a quiet way. She washes her face, the last remnants of her make up. She’s bare now, entirely vulnerable to his gaze.

Then she pauses.

This is insane.

You’re acting like a damn cat in heat, she scolds herself silently, adjusting the robe’s tie. Her fingers linger at her waist, and she forces herself to breathe.

This isn’t about sex. Not this time. She’s learned her lesson with Paul, burned herself on the promise of something hot and fast that turned to smoke in her hands. That’s not what she wants from Jasper. She wants to know him slowly. Carefully. Until she’s learned every corner of his soul. And if he lets her... she might just show him every hidden part of hers too.

Composing herself, she pads back into the hallway, bare feet silent on the wooden floor.

The small living room glows softly, bathed in the gold orange flicker of firelight, and a night-lamp by the doorway. The flames dance lazily in the hearth, casting long shadows that stretch across the walls.

And there he is.

Jasper sits low in a chair just in front of the fireplace, his back to her, the light tracing the silhouette of his broad shoulders and long frame. His legs stretch out in front of him, relaxed, and his posture is looser now. He’s not stiff like before. But there’s still that… tension. Always with him.

She holds her breath as she studies him.

His hair is drying, slightly wavy, reaching his shoulders. That golden honey tone gleams darker in the firelight, tousled and imperfect in the most perfect way. His skin glows pale and smooth, almost too flawless. And his jaw… it’s sharp with a quiet restraint, like he’s sculpted from stone. But it’s his lips that hold her hostage, pressed together, unreadable, in control. She wonders what they’d feel like if he ever let go of all that restraint. Jasper is beautiful in a way most men aren’t. Not pretty. Not handsome. Beautiful. Angelic. A creature from a painting brought to life.

She smiles softly, involuntarily, as memory flickers to life.

She has seen him before.

Just once or twice. Passing glances in Forks, back when she visited her grandmother at the hospital. Her grandmother had raved about Dr. Cullen, how kind and polite he was and of his well behaved children she wanted to set her up with. She talked about their unusual beauty and more than once, she mentioned the “quiet southern one” with the saddest eyes that seemed to be in perpetual pain. Y/N always thought she was imagining things. Now… now she knows she wasn’t.

The wedding of Bella Swan with Edward Cullen. That was the last time.

Her grandmother had been invited but passed before she could go. Y/N brought the gift in her place. Just an awkward drop-off. But the Cullens had all been there. She remembers the short girl beside Jasper. The way he looked at her back then, fond, maybe even in love. Everyone said they were adopted into the family. He went by Hale, if she remembers correctly.

And then she left.

Now, here he is, sitting in front of her like a beautiful ghost. She can’t help but wonder if his restrain is due to his feelings for the adopted sibling he was with. If rumors were true, they were together back then. Are they still? Or was the pain in his eyes born from heartbreak she caused?

“I can feel you starin’, sweetheart.” His voice rumbles through the quiet like a secret. He doesn’t even turn around.

Her lips curl. She bites her lower lip to hide her smile. “I think I prefer darling.”

He turns his head, just slightly. Enough to catch her in his peripheral. She sees the edge of a grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll make sure to remember that,” he says.

His eyes glance down, flicker, just for a moment, over the length of her, then back to her face. But that one look is enough. She can’t stop the blood rushing to her face, and she’s done hiding the blush it brings.

She walks closer, slowly, barefoot steps padded and quiet. But he hears her anyway. Probably knew where she was before she moved. There is something between them, something wordless she can’t quite explain. Not quite desire. Not yet. But the possibility of it.

She sinks onto the couch across from him, crossing her legs casually.

“Nice fire,” she says lightly.

His gaze lingers on her face. “You’re not cold anymore.”

“No,” she says softly. “Not at all.”

The silence between them is comfortable but weighted. The only sound is the crackling fire, its warmth only fueling the tension growing between them. Neither of them speaks. Neither of them moves much. She watches the flames, but her gaze drifts. Always back to him.

Jasper’s eyes are cast downward, though he’s not really watching the fire. He seems lost in thought, jaw tense, the tip of his finger tapping against the arm of the chair in a slow, restless rhythm.

She can’t help but steal glances.

Again. And again.

The golden hue of his eyes has returned, it shimmers in the low light, intense and quiet all at once. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Her breath hitches. She’s seen them before. Not just at the wedding. Not just tonight. But inthe dream.

That recurring dream she never quite understood. The one that left her aching and hollow every time she woke. A figure in the dark. A storm outside. Golden eyes glowing in the shadows, looking right into her, like they’d always known her. And she’d reach for him, desperate, always desperate, and wake up before her fingers could touch him.

She thought it was a metaphor. A manifestation of loneliness. Of longing.

But those eyes?

They're his.

Her heart skips a beat. She saw those eyes recently, as well.

“I saw you before,” she says, almost absently, like the words slip past her lips before she can second guess them.

Jasper freezes. He doesn't look at her. Not right away. But the tapping stops. His whole body goes still, so still it’s unnatural. Tension spikes, growing in the space between them, and for the first time tonight, it’s not playful. It’s something colder. Darker.

His voice is low, cautious. “When?”

She tilts her head, brows drawing together as she watches him. “The other night,” she says slowly. “I think I stumbled into you. You caught me before I fell.”

Jasper exhales. His shoulders drop. Relief flickers across his face like wind snuffing out a flame, and he finally meets her gaze. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That was me.”

“You left pretty fast,” she adds, her voice lighter now, testing him, watching him closely. “Why?”

He shrugs, looking away again, his jaw ticking just slightly. “You seemed... busy.”

“Busy?”

“There was a guy.” His tone is flat. The accent thicker. “He was walking toward you with roses.”

Her lips part. And then she laughs, warm and genuine, caught off guard. “Oh my God.”

He looks back at her, brows lifted, uncertain.

“I hate roses,” she says, smiling wide. “They always feel like a cop out. Like the guy couldn’t be bothered to think for more than ten seconds.”

Jasper blinks, processing that.

“And the guy?” she continues, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just say... he’s very much out of my life. Where he belongs.”

A flicker of something shifts behind his eyes. A subtle satisfaction. It’s there and gone in a second, but she sees it. His lips twitch, and for a moment, he looks smug.

“Is that right?” he murmurs, and the warmth in his voice makes her toes curl.

“Mm-hm.” She leans back slightly, watching him from beneath her lashes. “So if you disappeared because you thought I was on a date with Mr. Red Roses, I’m here to clear it up. Just in case that’s why you were holding back.”

His eyes are on her again, fully this time. No restraint.

The firelight dances in the reflection of his gaze, and the tension from before doesn’t vanish completely. It just shifts into something else. Something quieter. Hotter.

“Noted,” Jasper says at last, his voice velvet soft and unmistakably pleased.

She smiles at him, soft and secretive, her heart fluttering in her chest like it hasn’t in years. And as the fire crackles and the silence fills the room once more, it’s no longer heavy.

Blinking slowly, she reminds herself to breathe, inhale, exhale, don’t fall apart. But it’s not easy, not when Jasper is looking at her like that. His golden eyes glow in the low light, molten and unreadable, and she feels like she’s standing too close to something she should be afraid of.

But she isn’t.

She’s captivated.

"Your eyes are like liquid fire," she murmurs, her voice soft, words leaving her before she can weigh their weight. "I fear the burn… but I cannot look away."

Jasper’s lips twitch at the corners, a faint smirk playing at the edge of his mouth. His gaze stays locked on hers, unwavering. "You sure you’re not the poet, darlin’?"

His voice is low, rich like dark honey, and it’s impossible to remain ice cold as she initially planned.

"You bring it out of me," she replies, chin tilted ever so slightly, matching his smirk with one of her own. "I don’t do this often, you know."

"Flirt with strange men in little cabins in the woods?" he drawls.

"Compliment their eyes while half-dressed," she clarifies, raising a brow. "Totally different."

Jasper’s gaze flickers downward, just once, just enough to remind her that her robe, though tied, clings to the curves beneath. He hasn’t changed his clothes. His shirt is still damp, clinging to his frame in a way that should be illegal. She can see the definition of his chest, the broad cut of his shoulders, the faint pattern of bluish veins on his forearms as he rests them lazily against the chair’s armrests, the tension in every inch of him like a spring ready to snap.

And yet, he doesn’t move. He just watches her.

"What's your favorite color?" she asks, wanting to ground herself and lustful thoughts before she combusts.

Jasper raises an eyebrow, almost caught off guard by the simplicity of it. "My favorite color?"

"You heard me." She tucks her legs under her body slowly, watching the way his eyes follow the movement before moving back to her face with a faint edge of restraint.

He chuckles softly, surprised. Then glances at the fire, as if searching for the answer there. "No one’s ever asked me that before."

She frowns, genuinely stunned. “You’re kidding.”

But something about the way he says it, quietly, almost hesitant, makes her believe it. There’s truth in it. Pain, too. She sees it then, emerging behind those golden eyes, buried beneath years of silence and shadows. The light from the fire doesn’t just dance across his skin, it reflects all the things he tries to keep buried. It catches on the cracks.

“It’s red,” he says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “Deep red.”

His smile is small but real. She swears it steals the breath from her lungs. Red like her nightgown and robe, she realizes. Even unintentionally, she’s trying to seduce him.

"I would've guessed… green," she teases. "You have that forest recluse vibe."

He huffs a laugh. “Not quite.” Then his eyes narrow playfully. “You strike me as a purple girl.”

She gasps, mock offense showing across her features. “Wrong.”

“Oh?”

“Blue,” she says with a grin of victory. “Like the sky… like freedom. Ever changing shades of blue that make up every part of our lives.”

There’s a pause, just long enough for her to avert her gaze shyly.

"Freedom, huh?" Jasper echoes, like the word tastes unfamiliar to him.

Her smile softens. “What about the season? What’s yours?”

He leans back, resting his head against the chair. His profile in the glow of the fire looks carved, almost unreal, sharp lines, sculpted features, that unruly hair drying in soft waves. She has to remind herself he’s real. That she’s here. That this isn’t another dream.

“Fall,” he says eventually. “It’s colorful… but everything’s fading. There’s something honest about it.”

Thunder rumbles low in the distance, a reminder that the world outside this cabin is wet, wild, and cold. But inside, it’s warm. Warmer than ever before. And safe… for now.

“You’re not what I expected,” she admits, watching him with curiosity.

His eyes meet hers again, calm but cautious. “What did you expect?”

She shrugs. “A flirt. A cowboy. A mystery. But I didn’t expect you to be… kind.”

That startles him. Not in a dramatic way, but in the flicker of his eyes, the slight movement in his shoulders. Like her words hit somewhere deeper than he expected.

“You don’t know me,” he says.

“I’m starting to.”

And something in his expression shifts. He straightens a little, just enough that the damp fabric of his shirt stretches across his chest again. She wonders if he notices the way her gaze lingers on him now, the way her breath is forgotten when he licks his bottom lip absently.

She doesn’t say anything about it, but her heart is pounding.

He’s too perfect. Too careful. Too calm. Every move he makes seems calculated. It goes against every natural instinct she’s learned. Every red flag she's ever ignored before being burned. Yet here she is. Still leaning in. Still falling.

“You’re dangerous,” she says suddenly, smiling through it.

Jasper tilts his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It might be,” she murmurs, shifting slightly on the couch, the robe slipping to reveal a sliver of her thigh.

Jasper’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move.

“Do you always seduce women by lighting fires and answering personal questions?” she asks, her tone light, teasing.

He smiles, just barely. “Only the ones I save from drowning.”

Her laugh is soft, breathy. “It’s a good thing I didn’t have to sing like Ariel to draw you in. I’m a terrible singer.”

“No need for singing,” he says, his voice dropping low, eyes darkening slightly. “I’d find you anyway.”

She swallows. He looks at her like he’s memorizing her. Like he’s restraining himself, but she wishes he’d stop. The storm outside rages inside her as well, and she needs to know if he feels it too.

She shifts on the couch again, the soft rustle of silk brushing against her skin. Jasper's eyes flicker toward the sound, briefly, before returning to her face. But that brief flicker is all she needs to know he notices everything.

She should look away, but she doesn’t.

Instead, her voice lowers as she leans a fraction forward, the firelight painting her skin in honey and shadows. "You said something earlier," she murmurs. "About no one ever asking your favorite color."

Jasper nods once, slow. Measured. “Mmhm.”

"Made me wonder…" Her gaze drops to the fire, lashes casting shadows on her cheek. Her tone is soft, almost musing, like she’s trying not to sound like she’s fishing, but she is. "Have you always been alone? Or just… lately?"

That gets his attention. She feels the shift before she sees it, like the world stops and gravity itself tilts toward her just slightly. When she meets his gaze again, it's already locked on her, heavy with something she can't quite name.

"Is that your way of asking if I’m single?" he says, one brow arching with just enough amusement to take the edge off the raw honesty underneath.

She huffs a soft laugh, caught. A flush rises to her cheeks, warm and betraying, but she doesn’t look away. “Maybe. I like to think I’m more subtle than that.”

“You’re not.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes not leaving hers. “But I don’t mind.” He pauses. “I’ve been alone for a while now,” he says, voice quieter. Still warm, still steady, but pained. “Long enough that it stopped feeling strange.”

She nods slowly, letting the words settle. And then, because she can't help herself, she continues. “Was it by choice?”

Jasper doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lowers, down to her lips, her throat, the pulse that jumps beneath her skin, and then locks on her again,

“Not at first.”

She swallows. “And now?”

His smile is soft. Shadowed. “Now I think some things happen when they’re meant to.”

She wonders if that’s meant for her. The fire cracks beside them, thunder still rolling faintly in the distance. The storm hasn’t passed, but in here, it might as well not exist.

“Are you asking because you’re thinking about changing that for me?” he teases, voice low.

She smirks, though her stomach flips. “Would it be a problem if I were?”

He lets the silence set again, a practiced pause, like he’s savoring the weight of her words before letting his answer fall: “No,” he says. “No problem at all.”

Her pulse pounds louder in her ears, but she plays it cool, leaning back slowly and smoothing the edge of her robe where it’s fallen slightly open at her thigh. “Good. I’d hate to waste a perfectly good storm on poor timing.”

Jasper leans back in his chair, watching her like she’s both a challenge and reward. “Darlin’, with you here…” He tilts his head, a slow grin forming. “Timing feels just right.”

His words linger in the air, rich and slow like honey dripping from a spoon.

Timing feels just right.

The way he says it, how it bears intention, makes her stomach flutter. She’s not easily rattled, but Jasper is a dangerous exception.

“You always talk like that?” she teases, stretching her legs across the couch, draping herself like she’s in control of this entire exchange, when she absolutely is not. “Or am I just a special case?”

His gaze falls to the ground. “I want to answer, but it wouldn’t be polite to say what I’m thinkin’,” he replies.

That does something to her. She swallows, glancing at the fire to cool the flush rising to her cheeks. Her fingers fiddle idly with the edge of the robe belt tied at her waist, nerves masked as restlessness.

Jasper shifts subtly in his chair, sitting a little stiffer now, as if resisting the urge to move closer. His knuckles seem paler against his knees, hands clenched tight, so still. Unnaturally still. Her eyes move toward his chest, narrowing slightly. Is he even breathing?

“Are you…” she trails off before she can finish the question, unsure what she’s even asking. She frowns softly, watching him too closely now. “You’re… hard to read.”

His head tilts slightly. “That so?” His tone is amused, but there’s tension beneath it, like he’s trying to play casual while keeping a tight grip on something unruly just beneath the surface.

“You’re calm. Too calm.” Her voice is soft, speculative, like she’s thinking out loud. “You barely move. You barely blink. It’s like… you’re not even breathing.”

That earns her a flicker of something behind his eyes. Not fear, not annoyance, something like... regret. Guilt, maybe. It's gone before she can name it.

“I do breathe,” he says evenly, lips twitching into a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just not when it’s difficult.”

Her brows knit. He doesn’t make any sense “Difficult?”

Another pause. He shifts again, a subtle turn of his body away from her, like distance might help. She notices how tightly he holds himself, like one wrong move might crack him wide open and she’d catch sight of his soul on display.

Jasper’s jaw tightens. “You make the air… a little thick, is all.”

Her breath catches at the implication, heart thudding. “You blaming me, Cowboy? Telling me I smell bad?” she teases.

“I’m saying it’s not your fault your presence is…intoxicating,” he murmurs, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “But I reserve the right to suffer because of it.”

That gets a breathy laugh out of her before she can stop it. “You’re really pulling out all the lines tonight, huh?”

He finally turns fully to her again, and his expression softens. No grin. No teasing. Just quiet intensity.

“I’m not tryin’ to charm you,” he says, voice low. “You’re just… easy to talk to. Easy to look at.”

Something flutters in her chest, wild and unexpected. She’s not the only one who feels it then. And yet, there’s still that distance in his body. The way his fingers grip the chair too tightly, the way his shoulders lock, like he’s constantly reminding himself to stay exactly where he is. She wonders again if he’s fighting something she can’t see.

Y/N leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing just a touch, not with suspicion, but curiosity. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a lot you’re not saying?”

Jasper hesitates. There it is, that flicker again. This time not just in his eyes but in the way his entire body goes just a little too still, like he's deciding between fight or flight.

“I’ve been told I’m a hard person to get to know,” he admits, training his eyes on the fire. “That I keep my true self hidden.”

“Maybe,” she says softly, tilting her head. “Or maybe you’re just scared someone might see too much and use it against you.”

That makes him look at her again, really look. Something shifts in his expression then, and for the first time tonight, he looks… unsettled. But he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he clears his throat and leans back in his chair, creating just enough space to keep whatever storm is inside him from spilling over.

“Tell me more about the man with the roses,” he says abruptly, deflecting with calculated ease. “You said you hated both?”

She laughs, letting him have the shift in conversation, for now. “I did. I do.”

He smirks. “What kind of woman hates roses?”

“The kind who likes honesty over grand gestures. And prefers thorns out in the open.”

That earns a quiet chuckle from him. “Noted.”

Their eyes meet again, and this time, neither looks away. Y/N tugs the robe closer around her body, more out of instinct than chill, because despite the warmth of the fire, there's something in Jasper’s gaze that makes her skin prickle. It's not fear. It's want.

He shifts again, subtly angling his body toward her as though gravity itself favors her presence. But still, not a single unnecessary movement. Still no breath.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” she says softly, her lips curving as she rests her elbow on the armrest. “You seem to act like you’re made of stone.”

He chuckles low in his throat, the sound dark and husky. “Stone’s more accurate than you think.”

“See? There you go again,” she says, pointing a finger at him. “Being cryptic. It’s infuriating.”

His eyes flash at that, and for a second, the teasing slips from his face. Something lingers there. Almost like he is wounded.

“You’re not the only one who’s been burned before,” he says quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Her smile fades, gaze narrowing as she leans in, heart thudding just a little harder. “That sounded like the beginning of a story.”

Jasper stiffens. His jaw tenses, and he glances down at his hands like he’s just remembered he has them. She watches his knuckles go white again, the firelight catching the fine tremble in his fingers.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes,” he says quietly. “Ones that don’t go away with time.”

She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t interrupt. She just watches him, lips parting slightly as if to invite more, but he doesn’t continue. He swallows hard, like the words are sitting razor-edged in his throat, and one more would tear him open.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she says gently. No wonder he is so guarded. Is he afraid she’d be a mistake, as well? “But that? That was the most human thing I’ve heard all night.”

He looks up at her then, and for the first time, his gaze isn't guarded. It’s aching. Vulnerable.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” he breathes.

“It is,” she says simply. “People carry their damage. Doesn’t make them less worth knowing.”

Jasper’s lips twitch, almost a smile… almost, but there’s something close to fear dancing in his eyes now. Like she’s getting too close to something he’s buried deep. She can feel him pulling back again, emotionally if not physically.

Before she can push further, before she can even ask the question dancing on the edge of her tongue.

CRACK.

The entire cabin rattles as thunder explodes overhead, so loud it sounds like the heavens have split in half. The lamp light flickers, the fire jumps, and Y/N jumps too, a startled gasp leaving her lips as she instinctively presses a hand to her chest.

Jasper’s up in a blink.

She doesn’t even see him move, he’s just suddenly there, closer than he was a second ago, hand half-outstretched as if to shield her from something. That strange stillness returns to his frame, but his eyes are sharp and alert now, scanning the shadows for signs of danger.

“Storm’s getting worse,” he mutters, voice low again, low and too calm.

“You don’t say,” she breathes out, forcing a laugh that’s more nerves than humor.

His gaze finds hers again, and there’s a softness to it now, something almost apologetic, as though he’s sorry for pulling away, sorry for not saying more. But he doesn’t speak, while outside, the storm screams.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop soon.” Jasper’s voice is quiet, measured. Too careful. “You should probably get some rest.”

Y/N blinks, heart sinking a little more than she wants to admit. Just as she felt she was chipping away at his defenses, this happens. A soft dismissal. She breathes out through her nose, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips out of sheer stubbornness. “Yeah,” she says, nodding as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Guess you’re right.”

She hesitates a moment longer than necessary before adding, “When will you rest?”

Jasper glances toward the fire, then back at her. “Soon.”

The way he says it feels like a gentle deflection. She fights the sting of disappointment, but she doesn’t let it show, at least, not entirely.

“I hope you're not a blanket hog,” she jokes, forcing a playful tone as she rises to her feet, brushing invisible lint off her robe. “You'll be joining me, right?”

His smile is subtle, restrained, like everything about him. It's more in his eyes than his lips, but it hits her all the same, right in the chest. She licks her lips to hide it, but she’s saddened by the way the day is ending.

“I’m good on the sofa,” he says, voice warm but distant. Polite. Detached. She’d much prefer an open rejection, something she can hold close to her stubborn heart and replay in her mind. This only gives her the idea of rejection, but in such a sweet way that it almost angers her.

“I don’t mind,” she presses, hands sliding to her hips. “The bed’s large enough for both of us.”

He shakes his head, golden curls falling softly around his face. He looks ethereal like this, hair dry and tousled, jaw sharp beneath firelight, eyes deeper than anything she's ever seen. How is he real?

“You saved my life,” she says, quieter now, less flirtation and more sincerity. “The least I can do is let you have the bed.”

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies with a familiar softness, one that only twists the knife. “I’ll be fine out here. Wouldn’t be a very good host if I took up all the space and hogged the covers, would I?”

His smile is back again, easy and charming, and yet all she can think is, he’s not going to come with me.

She nods, looking away briefly to blink back whatever disappointment is threatening to rise. You’re reading too much into this, she tells herself. He’s being kind. That’s all.

“Don’t be afraid to join me if you change your mind,” she says over her shoulder, quieter now, walking slowly behind his chair. Her voice is smooth, but her stomach churns, unsure if she’s flirting or begging.

He stops her.

A cool hand wraps gently around her wrist. She’s startled, gasping at the contact. His touch is cold. Not unpleasant, but cold enough to send a shiver running down her spine. He pulls her hand toward him, slowly, deliberately, and presses his lips to the inside of her wrist, just over her pulse.

She forgets how to breathe.

The kiss is featherlight, reverent. And it lingers, not long enough to be improper, but just enough to undo her completely. She stands frozen, hoping to hell her legs won’t fail her.

He’s still holding her gaze when he lets her go.

Maybe that’s what people mean when they talk about a gentleman, she thinks dazedly. Not one of weakness or practiced charm. But one who holds back even when he clearly doesn’t want to. One who shows restraint where others would have taken. And yet… there’s something mournful in him. Something unspoken. Something so filled with fear and guilt and she can’t understand where it comes from.

“Goodnight, Jasper,” she says, voice soft, uneven now. Her heart is still racing in her chest.

His eyes search hers for a second longer before he replies.

“Sleep well, darlin’.”

She walks away slowly, still reeling. The storm still howling outside, but it’s nothing compared to the one stirring in her chest. Biting her lower lip, she wracks her brain for a suitable word to say, but she can't even think properly. He has distorted her train of thought entirely.

The bed is too soft. She shifts beneath the covers, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other splayed out on the sheets beside her. The room is warm, her silk nightgown clinging to her skin in places she wishes it wouldn’t, heat rising from the fireplace lingering.

But it’s not the fire keeping her awake.

It’s him. Jasper.

She stares at the ceiling, heart still racing from his touch, from that kiss on her wrist. It replays over and over like a movie scene she’s memorized. Her skin still tingles where his lips pressed against it, as if they branded her, marked her. But that’s not what keeps her from sleeping. It’s the distance in his eyes. The contradiction. He’s warm and kind and gentle, but there's something in him that holds back, as though he's constantly walking the edge of a cliff and can't afford to look down. And God, it hurts a little, the way he wouldn’t come to bed. She had given him an open invitation. It wasn’t about sex, not even closeness, really. It was about comfort. Warmth. Trust. She had wanted to offer it. And he’d turned it down. Not cruelly. But carefully. Which might’ve been worse.

Was she wrong to want more? Was she imagining things, the tension, the shared glances, the moments that felt stolen from something bigger? She bites her lip, the taste of disappointment sharp as she sighs into the darkness.

What is he hiding?

And why does part of her still want him to knock on her door and climb in beside her, cold skin and secrets and all?

Despite her busy mind, sleep finds her soon enough and for the first time in forever, there are no golden eyes haunting her dreams.

The fire crackles, low and steady, bathing the cabin in flickering shadows. Jasper stares into it like he’s trying to burn the hunger out of himself.

He can still feel her wrist against his palm. Still taste her pulse against his lips, though he didn’t taste anything, not really. Not like he wants to.

His jaw clenches.

He hadn’t meant to touch her like that. Hadn’t meant to kiss her. But the moment she walked behind him, smelling like honey and warmth and a faint trace of something undeniably her, he lost the thread of his resolve.

And now? Now it’s fraying at the edges.

He inhales deeply, though it’s a habit more than a need. Each inhale is torture. Her scent lingers in the air like a ghost. He holds his breath again, trying to dull the ache in his throat. The hunger. The need.

She has no idea what she’s doing to him.

He imagines it, just for a second. The way her blood might taste. How warm it would be. How it might sing through his body like wildfire, like salvation and damnation all at once. The monster inside him stirs, just a little. He forces it down.

You’re better than this.

But God, it’s been so long since anyone made him feel… alive. He closes his eyes, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him like he’s praying to a god who long stopped listening. She was kind to him. Open. Inviting. She didn’t flinch when he pulled her close. Didn’t run when she saw something darker in his eyes.

She saw the monster in him and smiled anyway.

And that’s the problem.

Because if he gives in, even a little... He’s afraid he won’t stop.

Jasper flees the cabin like the devil himself is at his heels. Trees blur past in streaks of black and green, rain lashing against his skin as he tears through the forest. The sound of her heartbeat still echoes in his ears. His throat is a furnace, a hollow tunnel of fire and ache. The taste of her is everywhere and nowhere, a ghost on his tongue, phantom sweetness that never came, but almost did.

Too close. Far too close.

By the time he stumbles up the porch steps of the Cullen house, he's shaking. Not visibly, his body is still and statuesque as always, but inside?

Inside, he's on his knees.

Carlisle opens the door before Jasper can raise a hand. “You did well, my son.”

A hand clasps his shoulder. Warm. Steady. Reassuring. But Jasper can’t respond. Can’t even meet Carlisle’s eyes. He’s terrified to draw a proper breath, certain that her scent is still clinging to him, soft and honeyed, soaked into the fabric of his shirt, caught in his curls. If he inhales too deeply, he’s afraid his resolve will fracture.

If I feel her again… would I go back?

Edward appears beside them, arms crossed, face unreadable. “He needs to hunt. Soon.” If anyone understands him, it’s him. He’s had it bad with Bella too. “I’ll help,” he adds. “We all will.”

But Jasper barely hears him. His voice sounds like it’s coming through water. Thick. Distant.

“If I hurt her…” Jasper begins, low and hoarse.

“You won’t,” Edward says quickly, confident in his response.

“There’s no guarantee,” Jasper growls, stepping back like their proximity alone is too much. His eyes, once a soft gold, are dark now. Bottomless. Ravenous. A predator’s stare. “You might know how it feels, but you don’t know what she does to me.”

Edward’s jaw tenses. But he remains calm. “The fact that you saved her, multiple times, means you’re in control. You’re doing better than I ever did with Bella.”

Jasper wants to agree. God, he wants to believe that.

But how can he?

The first time he caught her scent, he hadn’t even seen her face. He and Alice were in the hospital, watching from a distance after Edward saved Bella from being crushed by a truck. Amidst the chaos, the sterile tang of blood and adrenaline, her scent hit him like a freight train.

He hadn’t known who she was. He only knew he needed to feed.

It took three of his siblings to restrain him. For weeks afterward, he couldn’t be left alone. Someone always hovered close, Alice, Carlisle or Emmett, just in case. He was locked in a constant battle with the beast inside, writhing in silence.

He never connected the dots. Never knew that mysterious, maddening scent belonged to someone who would one day look at him like he was something good.

Looking back, it made sense why he snapped at the birthday party. Why a single papercut shattered him. He’d been teetering on the edge for months, made unstable by an unknown presence that inflamed his thirst every time it brushed against the periphery of his senses.

When the Cullens left Forks, he felt relief. The scent vanished. The haze lifted.

And then came the wedding. And again, there she was.

Unseen, but felt. Her scent turned his hunger into barbwire, it wrapped itself around his throat. Alice had to drag him away before he did something irreversible. That time, it only took him a few weeks to regain his senses. He clung to control like a lifeline, forced himself to act normal when Bella returned from her honeymoon, pregnant and terribly human, more human than ever as life drained from her. He distracted himself with the chaos, convinced it was all behind him.

But it wasn’t.

It would take a year and a half before Jasper would finally see her. Finally learn her name. Y/N. It was the same night Edward erased her memories. The moment their eyes met, the thirst returned, tenfold.

Now that he knows her, now that he’s touched her, heard her voice, watched her laugh…this is hell. Pure, exquisite torture.

Edward thinks he’s doing well?

He’s barely holding on.

Half the time she speaks, all Jasper can think about is how easily he could draw her closer. How sweet her breath would feel against his lips if he kissed her, right before sinking his teeth into the softness of her throat. If she came to him willingly, he could almost pretend he wasn’t a monster. Could almost lie to himself about what he would do next.

But no, he’s not in control. Not really.

And definitely not doing well.

Not at all.

Jasper shakes his head. “I almost killed her at the beach. When I pulled her out of the water and the ocean stopped masking her scent... I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to. The hunger was...” His voice trembles, and he clenches his fists to still the shaking. “Intoxicating. Like every cell in my body was begging for a taste. Just one.”

His eyes flash to Carlisle, wide with guilt. “I brought her to the woods planning to drain her dry. I had her in my arms. I ran with her into the trees, ready to end it. And then she opened her eyes and... I couldn’t.”

Carlisle exhales softly. “She’s your blood singer.”

Jasper flinches at the term, as if it brands him. He doesn’t want this. Not this way.

Emmett steps onto the porch, arms folded, the usual grin absent from his face. “She’s lucky it’s you and not me. I killed mine on sight.”

Regret pulses off Emmett like a wave, and Jasper, despite the pain clawing at his insides, instinctively dampens it, dulling the sharpness of his brother’s grief. And he hates that. Hates that even now, he’s still trying to fix everyone else while he’s falling apart inside.

“I don’t want to be around her,” Jasper murmurs, eyes locked on the treetops. Dark. Wet. Tempting.

“Just because your blood singer was your mate,” he says to Edward, “doesn’t mean she’s mine.”

“Alice said -” Emmett starts, but Jasper cuts him off, sharp.

“I know what Alice said.” His voice is rough, stripped of its usual smoothness. “She can’t be the one. No human can survive me.”

“She already has,” Carlisle reminds him gently. “She survived then and today again. She survived you at the beach. She survived the cabin. And you’re standing here, begging for a way to keep her safe. That says everything.”

Edward steps forward, gaze knowing. “You should hunt. Then go back to her.”

Jasper scoffs. “You think feeding will fix this?”

“No. But it will make you stronger and help the burning in your throat.” Edward’s voice is calm but firm. “If Alice is right, if she’s your mate, do you really want to lose her because you were too afraid to try?”

Jasper is silent.

He wants to scream. Wants to vanish into the forest and never return. Wants to erase the memory of her warm skin, her wide eyes, the soft pulse beneath her wrist as his lips hovered over it. He wanted to taste her so badly, he can still feel it. Like her blood is already in his mouth. Lush. Lively. Fatal.

He imagines it again, just for a moment. Her body against his. Her breath hitching. The way she would sigh when his teeth found her throat, the blood rushing to meet him, a welcome he doesn’t deserve. Her heart would stutter. Then stop.

It would be bliss. And it would ruin him.

He looks at Carlisle, then Edward.

“I can protect her from anything.” His voice is almost a whisper. “But how can I protect her from me? Every time I touched her, I was terrified. That I’d snap a bone. Cut her skin. Taste blood.”

Carlisle places a hand on his shoulder again. Steady. Fatherly. “Practice.”

Edward nods beside him. “A lot of it.”

The forest is still damp with the remnants of the storm. Jasper is running wild, untethered, finally hunting. Emmett charges alongside him with a shout of excitement, and Carlisle moves with graceful precision, already several yards ahead. The trees bend to make way for them. He will feed until the hunger is satiated, until his thoughts move away from all the ways he’d savor the taste of her blood, until every last drop is in his system. Until his eyes brighten and the hunter is appeased.

Back at the house, Alice stands by the window, watching shadows move beneath the moonlight. Her arms are folded, but her eyes are distant, seeing something no one else can. Almost no one.

Edward watches her, then speaks. “Are you absolutely certain your visions were right?”

She exhales slowly, finally looking away from the night. “Do you think I would leave Jasper for anything less?”

Edward nods once. “You knew before any of us.”

She smiles, faint and sad. “Y/N was already in town when you met Bella. Back then, Jasper was struggling to stay in control around her… but what none of us realized was that it wasn’t Bella driving him to the edge.”

Edward’s brows pinch together. “It was her.”

Alice nods again, slower this time. “He could smell Y/N in the hospital. I stopped him from seeking her out because I saw what would happen if he did...she’d die. I made a choice, and it changed everything. Because when I stopped him… I saw a different future.”

Her voice softens, wistful. “The future he could have with her. If we keep her alive long enough… it’s beautiful. She’s his mate, Edward. I’ve never doubted it.”

Edward wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in gently. “Still… it couldn’t have been easy. Leaving him.”

Her laugh is quiet and bitter. “Of course it wasn’t easy. I loved him. But I’m not his mate. And I wasn’t going to stand in the way of what he’s meant for. I knew if he was freshly single when he met her, she'd never trust him. I had to make it clean. Immediate. For all our sakes.”

“You’ll find your mate too,” he tells her softly.

“One day.” She leans into his side. “But that day isn’t here yet.”

They sit in the silence for a moment longer. The moon is high up, peeking out from behind clouds, casting light across Edward’s face. Alice studies him for a moment, then asks gently, “Does his thirst for her unnerve you?”

Edward hesitates. Swallows. “The rest of you don’t have a front row seat to his mind like I do. I won’t lie and say it’s been easy.”

“Far from feral?” she teases, trying to lighten the mood.

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I’ve had… worse. But he’s right at the edge. And the things he thinks… the way he imagines her blood…and other things he’s like to do with her…” His voice falters. “It’s a struggle. Every second.”

Alice nods solemnly. “Well, I can already tell you this, none of those futures I’ve seen end with you killing her. You don’t need to carry that fear. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Both of you are.”

Edward looks at her, hesitant. “And in how many of those futures does she actually survive this?”

Alice’s smile fades. Her eyes darken. For a moment she’s still, then she opens her mind to him completely. One by one, visions flood into him. Flashes of blood. Of her body limp in Jasper’s arms. Of him falling to his knees in despair. Others are better, she’s laughing, Jasper seems radiant, they’re kissing underneath the moonlight.

But they’re few.

Edward’s lips part, his breath shuddering. “That was… difficult to watch.”

“I know.” Alice’s voice trembles just slightly. “Now you understand.”

He presses his lips into a thin line, turning from her to the moonlight. “If we can’t save Y/N…”

“We lose him,” Alice finishes.

He nods once. “Yes.”

A heavy silence settles again.

“One in a million chance,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “The odds are stacked against us.”

Alice shrugs with a whisper of a smile. “Well… her chances are higher after tonight.”

He raises a brow. “You’re sure?”

“We’ll see how she feels after breakfast.” Her grin turns sly. “Jasper’s not the only one who’s going to be tested tomorrow. It’s been a while since we’ve had a human in the house.”

Edward groans. “Just wait till we tell Rosalie.”

Alice snickers. “I already saw how that goes.”

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

Tags: @moonmark98 @formulas-bitch @ronniesreverie @anongirl007 @foxycrafterofgreenwood @lamelover @sl4t4darkling @megaprincesscakes @aj3684 @xnarixkimx

A/N: If you want to be tagged for future parts, leave a comment and make sure your blog's visibility is on (in settings) otherwise Tumblr won't allow me to tag you.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x y/n #jasper cullen x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #the twilight saga #twilight fandom #twilight saga

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vigilante24ish · 6 months ago

Text

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1304

Chapter 39:

The first thing you saw was... well, nothing. Your vision was black even though you were clearly blinking your eyes, which meant something was obscuring your vision.

You did not feel any blindfolds or anything physically covering your eyes, but you tried to check it with your fingers... only to sense a barrier.

A quick frantic search made you realize that you were trapped somewhere now, the sound of plastic rubbing against one another; giving you the idea of being trapped in a bag.

You froze for a second, as your mind started to think and realize where you were. Once the image of a body bag flashed into your mind, your heart started to beat faster.

Your moves became more frantic as you were reminded of the clothed mask worn on you during your waterboarding torture from those witch hunters. Your breathing changed, and your chest started to ache, forgetting you could use your powers to have some light or even escape.

Eventually, your constant shoving and hitting managed to find the zipper. Once it moved and the first rays of light entered, you headed for it like a swimmer out of air.

Your fingers passed through the small gap, and you pulled the zipper down, allowing the bag to open and you to shot up so fast; your vision blurred with black spots for a moment.

One hand was holding the front of your white hospital gown as you tried to breathe, your wide eyes looking at Agatha and Billy; both sitting inside their own bodybags.

The sight of them, especially for Agatha, slowly helped you to calm down, but stress was within your body.

At least now, you could focus on the room you were in; of what the next trial was supposed to be. It definitely did not do much to help your fast beating heart, considering the room looked a lot like a morgue.

The more you took notice of it, the more you realized that it was a morgue room. Purple tinted flurescent lights were above you, giving a more haunting aura to the room.

Endless morgue drawers were placed against the wall, only three out; each one for Billy, Agatha, and You.

You parted your lips, focusing on your irregular breathing as your eyes met Billy's dark ones and Agatha's blue ones.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" He asked, seeing you emerging from that body bag with that terrified expression on your face.

You nodded your head, unable to answer as you tried to push away any haunting feelings that were awakened by the transition between the road and this trial.

Suddenly, another morgue drawer was pulled open by an invisible force; another body bag in it. The shouts and begs of Jen made you realize it was her inside and was panicking, having not understood yet where she was or how to escape.

Billy got up and went to help her, but Agatha stopped him.

"Don't steal her struggle," she said, her eyes never leaving you; a hidden worry of your wellbeing growing within her heart.

At last, Jen managed to open the zipper and pull her body up; while everyone gave her time to focus and calm down.

"Where are we?" Jen finally asked as you all climbed off the morgue tables.

"Uh... Oh. My basement. Give or take." Agatha speculated as everyone started to explode the room.

You remained oddly quiet and marched towards the steps you could see. If this was Agatha's basement, then maybe there was a way out... or perhaps the trial was in a different room.

You reached for the closed doors, only to find them locked.

Usually, you would have just stepped back, but the idea of being trapped in that small room underground started to bring back haunting memories of your times with the witch hunters.

Acting on pure survival instincts, you tried to bang and pull and push the doors with all your might; each attempt was more desperate than the other as your breathing changed once again; becoming rapid.

The others tried to call your name, surprised by your outburst. However, all you could hear was your laboured breath and the sound of blood passing through your veins; each beat of your heart echoed inside your head.

"Y/N!" Agatha called your name, but you didn't listen.

To her surprise, it was Jen who acted physically. She grabbed your wrists and pulled you away from the door, careful not to make you trip down the small steps.

"Y/N!" She called your name loud enough as she started to shake you. "It's locked!" She told you, hoping somehow her words bypass your walls and reach the logical part of your mind. "We will pass this trial and get out of here," she continued as you slowly stopped fighting.

Eventually, you started to focus on the present, your breathing becoming more stable, but your heart was not so quick to drop its beats. Yet it was something, and it was evident to the other witches as you started to calm down; enough for Jen to let you go.

"Sorry," you breathed out and took a few steps back, feeling ashamed at losing control that way.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Billy asked, looking at you with worry.

You were always the calmer in this group, the most grounded one. Even during the ghost and possession moments, you remained logical and focused.

To see you reacting like that, it shocked but also worried him. What could have happened to you to trigger such a reaction?

His mind went back to your scars, your encounter with the witch hunters, but he had no idea of what truly happened with them. Considering he could not read your mind, he left him as clueless as the rest.

"Yeah... bad memories..." You muttered and cleared your throat, trying to focus on anything than them.

Agatha's gaze was the one you could feel the most, but you did not dare to let your eyes meet, afraid of how she would look at you.

You hated when others looked at you with sympathy, thinking of you as some weak little girl when you possessed power beyond their comprehension. You hated when others thought of you as fragile.

You hated when Agatha was worried about you, knowing she feared of losing you like she did with Little Nicky.

You were meant to be the strong one to protect her. You were the one to support her, to be there for her when she needed you.

And while it was only logical that she should be the same to you... you simply couldn't let it happen. It was rare whenever it happened, and you knew it was one of your biggest flaws.

And so, you focused on the room.

Agatha's eyes kept following you, her face not hiding her worry for you. She had never seen you react like that, except for the first trial with the illusions.

Until now...

She didn't know what caused it or what dark memory was taking over your mind, but she knew it was deep. She would recognise the basic instincts of fear and the need to flee on pretty much anyone.

Considering how you reacted to the body bag and now to the sealed room, she feared that whatever happened with those witch hunters scarred you deeper than you let her know.

Those men were lucky they were dead cause when she would get her powers back, she was going to come after them, and nothing would be able to save them from her rage.

To save the day, once again, was none other than Billy. He had this feeling to check something, and when he approached his body bag, he realized his instincts were correct.

"Check this out!" He called you all over.

Chapter 40

#agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #moon phases fanfic #agatha fanfic #kathryn hahn #agatha spoilers #marvel #agatha harkness #aubrey plaza #lesbian #billy maximoff #jennifer kale

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1toomanyfictionalbfs · 9 months ago

Text

bad dreams

Spencer Reid x gn! reader

summary: you wake in the middle of the night seeing your boyfriend wide awake still shaken up from the nightmare he had awoken from.

warnings : really none, small bit of angst, pretty boy being sweet, fluffy

word count : idk maybe 0.4K

a/n : okay so I haven’t finished criminal minds yet but after watching season 1 episode 10 this has been stuck in my mind and I need to write it but, I just love Spencer so much he’s so amazing I hope y’all enjoy🫶.

The bright moon was high in the sky, quietly illuminating the room as you and your boyfriend lie asleep. You rest peacefully quiet breaths, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath fueled by your beating heart. Though, you lie asleep as if you were a small boat on a still lake, the man beside you couldn’t stop twisting and turning.

Escaping the dream Spencer awoke with a jolt sitting up his eyes shooting open. Feeling this sudden motion pulled you from your own calmer dream. You slowly turn over your mind still drowsy from the abrupt awakening. You see the dark curls leaning over his face, his head in his hands. You reach up placing your warm hand to his bare back causing him to jump.

“Honey, are you okay” you mumble still trying to keep from falling back asleep. He turned to look at you as you slowly sat up, “oh did I wake you up I’m s-“ he started quietly. You quickly shook your head no saying “no no it’s okay what happen are you alright” your voice still low as you quickly checked over his body to make sure he wasn’t injured.

Your eyes looked back to his as he said “no just I had a bad dream is all.” Your mouth made somewhat of an “oh” shape as you nodded to his words. You had none of his night terrors for a long time and though it had happened less frequently there were some nights he couldn’t escape them. You pulled him into a tight hug as you always had saying “well I’m sorry, I just wish there was something I could do to stop them” your tone apologetic, your heart shattering every time you saw the small tears that would well up in his fearful eyes from the thought of all the scary things that would haunt him in the deep hours of the night.

“This” Spencer whispered into your hair as your fingers twirled his own messy curls. His words brought a smile to your face as you felt eyes begin to become harder and harder to keep open, the warm embrace acting as a blanket.

You pull away and reach your hands up to his face, the light stubble poking your fingers as you use your thumbs to wipe away the tears. Placing a small kiss to his nose as you whisper “i love you” hoping your soft affectionate words will bring him the comfort he needs.

He reciprocates the words with a quiet “I love you more” and you couldn’t keep from playfully rolling your eyes “that’s not possible” you speak softly your words bringing a smile to his face as Spencer wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer, capturing his lips over yours. Pulling away as you lie down again his arms still wrapped around you, his head now lying in the crook of your neck as you bring your hands back into his hair running your fingers through it. Eventually, you both fall back asleep to the sound of your matching steady heartbeats and the comforting warmth of each other. And for the first time in a long time Spencer had slept through the whole night feeling amazing and well rested in the morning. Even with the bright rising sun that beamed through the light curtains shining into his eyes Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he saw you lying asleep, knowing that he’d found the one.

okay what do we think guys. Lmk if you have any thoughts, or criticisms and yeah again I hoped you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed right have a great day or night and I love you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #fluff #comfort #first post!!#enjoy #spencer reid fluff

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herweirdass · 7 months ago

Text

waves of change | ph

smut warning!

Pope Heyward stood at the edge of the dock, staring out at the horizon. Life had been complicated lately. The treasure hunt, his friends, everything seemed to pull him in different directions. Today, though, he was taking a break. As much as he loved his friends, being around them all the time made it hard to think clearly. That’s when he noticed her—a girl standing by the beach house, leaning against a railing, her eyes locked onto his.

She was unmistakably a Kook. Her effortless style, from her perfectly tousled hair to the designer clothes, gave her away. Yet, something about her caught his attention. She didn’t look like the judgmental, elite types Pope had grown to dislike. She had an air of confidence and mystery, and he couldn't shake the feeling she was watching him, too.

Eventually, their paths crossed when she approached him at the docks.

“Hey, you’re Pope, right?” Her voice was smooth, almost teasing.

Pope raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. And you are?”

“Y/N,” she replied, with a half-smile. “I’ve seen you around with the Pogues.”

Pope nodded, unsure of where this was going. Kooks didn’t usually mix with Pogues unless they had an ulterior motive.

“I’m not like the others,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Trust me.”

Curiosity got the better of him. “Okay, so what’s your deal?”

She shrugged, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place. “Let’s just say... I’ve been through my share of experiences.”

Pope wasn’t naïve, but he couldn’t help the nervous flutter in his stomach. He had never been the most confident when it came to relationships or even flirting. But there was something about Y/N that drew him in.

Over the next few days, they started hanging out more. What began as chance encounters turned into secretive walks on the beach, late-night talks under the stars, and deep conversations where Y/N revealed more about herself. She was different from the typical Kook girls he had met. She didn’t care about appearances or money. She was unapologetically herself—bold, confident, and open about her desires.

One evening, as they sat on the sand watching the waves, Y/N turned to him. “You’re holding back.”

Pope’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

She leaned in closer, her gaze piercing. “You’re smart, Pope. You’re ambitious, and you’ve got this intensity about you. But you’re holding something back... with me.”

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. “I’m just... not as experienced as you, I guess.”

Y/N smiled softly, surprising him with her gentleness. “It’s not about experience. It’s about connection. You and I... we’re different, but we understand each other.”

Pope felt the tension between them grow. The weight of everything he’d been through—the danger, the treasure, his friends—all seemed to fade away in that moment. It was just him and her. She moved closer, her lips brushing against his. His breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed her back, letting go of his insecurities and doubts.

The air between them was charged, the unspoken tension building with every glance and lingering touch. Y/N smirked, looking at him with those teasing eyes of hers.

“You don’t have to be afraid with me. I promise,” she said, voice low, her fingers lightly tracing his arm.

Pope swallowed, heart racing. The desire to keep things simple was at war with the new sensations she awakened in him. He felt a surge of boldness, something he’d never been able to express fully until now, around her.

“How about we take this back to my place?” Pope said, surprising even himself with the words.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Pope Heyward, are you trying to be smooth?”

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, but there was confidence in his voice now. “Maybe. Is it working?”

She bit her lip, eyes darkening with intrigue. “Definitely.”

Without another word, she stood up, holding out her hand. Pope took it, the warmth between their palms sparking something undeniable.

As they arrived at Pope's place, the atmosphere shifted. The walls, adorned with remnants of his childhood, felt both familiar and foreign. Y/N took a moment to soak it all in before turning her full attention to Pope. He stood a bit awkwardly, his hands shoved in his pockets, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Relax,” she encouraged, stepping closer. “We can just talk for now, see where things go.”

They settled onto the couch, the cushions sinking comfortably beneath them. With each laugh and shared moment, the tension began to fade.

“Okay, so, what do you want to know?” she finally asked, tilting her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes.

Pope swallowed hard, his mind racing. “Well… I guess, um, how do I…?” He hesitated, feeling a mix of vulnerability and eagerness.

“Just be honest with me,” Y/N replied softly. “What are you curious about?”

He took a breath, finally voicing it. “I want to know how to… well, you know. I’ve only ever did it once.”

Y/N smiled knowingly, “You mean, how to be intimate?” She leaned forward, creating a safe space for him. “It’s about connection, not just the act itself. Let’s go at your pace, okay?”

A wave of relief washed over Pope. “Okay.”

With that, Y/N took his hand, guiding him to sit closer. “It’s all about feeling comfortable. Start by exploring—what do you like? What makes you feel good?”

Pope nodded slowly, his heart racing. Y/N gently placed her hand on his chest, encouraging him to breathe deeply. “Just focus on the moment. Let go of any expectations,” she whispered, her voice steady and soothing.

As they moved closer, Y/N began to guide his hands, teaching him the power of touch. She showed him how to caress her arm, how to find the right pressure, the right rhythm. With each tentative move, Pope felt the warmth of her skin under his fingertips, the thrill of discovery igniting his senses.

“See? You’re doing great,” she said softly, her encouragement wrapping around him like a blanket.

Pope found himself lost in the moment, gradually shedding his nerves. He had previously learned to read her reactions, the way she leaned into his touch, the soft sighs that escaped her lips. With every passing moment, he grew more confident, more attuned to Y/N’s desires as she guided him with gentle prompts.

“Now, let’s try something else. We’re going to find out what you like,” she suggested, her voice low and inviting.

She started with light kisses on his neck and began trailing them up his jawline, then finally his lips. The kiss was soft and gentle sending shivers down Pope’s body. He brushed his thumb across her cheek deepening the kiss between them both. Y/N removed his shirt as he pulled her into his lap with a tight possessive grip.

He started by kissing her neck and then moved down to her chest, his hands roaming everywhere. The warmth spread downward and rested between her thighs, intensifying and igniting through her minimal clothing.

Overcome by desire, she instinctively arched towards him, craving more. He then stripped away their remaining clothes and told her to lie flat on the bed. A smirk crept onto Pope's face as his gaze swept over her body, his eyes darkening with lust.

“Tell me you’re all mine,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with desire, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. In that fragile space between words and feelings, she felt the weight of his gaze, a mixture of longing that enveloped them both.

“I’m all yours baby,” she finally breathed, her voice barely above a whisper as she lay there, naked and extremely wet for him.

He captured her lips once more, his hand gliding down her body savoring every moment. He placed his palm exactly where she desired him. Y/N bucked, moving against him as soft moans escaped her lips. A soft smile played on his lips as he watched her squirm under his touch.

Pope dominated the space above her, aligning his thick length with her eager entrance. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he thrust inside, prompting both of them to gasp at the intensity of the moment. After pausing briefly to adjust, he began to move his hips, allowing y/n to experience all of him. He pulsed within her as she tightened around him. They soon settled into a deep, pleasurable rhythm together. The room echoed with the sound of their bodies connecting as they murmured sweet nothings to one another.

“You’re doing great baby,” she encouraged. “Just like that.”

Pope drove into her more harder and rapidly, they both felt a growing, intense pleasure that was impossible to ignore.

“Pope,” she gasped his name, twisting, riding it out until her climax hits and every part of her explodes with pleasure as she shivers in his arms.

“Y/n, I—” Pope barely completed his thought before she tightened around him, aiming to both tease and assist him. He soon followed, gasping for breath as they both experienced their own climaxes.

Hours slipped by, the world outside fading into a distant hum. By the time they finally paused, both breathless and exhilarated, Pope felt like he’d stepped into a new world. Y/N had opened a door for him, one he hadn’t known existed.

“See? You had it in you all along,” she smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You just needed a little guidance.”

Pope grinned, a mix of pride and relief flooding through him. “Thanks for being patient with me,” he said, feeling a sense of fulfillment he hadn’t anticipated.

“Always,” Y/N replied, her eyes sparkling.

From that night on, things between Pope and Y/N changed. They found a balance between the wild, physical attraction and the deeper connection they had built. Y/N showed him how to embrace his desires, but she also taught him that it was okay to take things slow and steady. They didn’t need to rush. They had time.

Despite their differences—their backgrounds, their experiences—they found common ground in each other. Pope’s heart, always loyal to his friends and family, made room for something new. Y/N, with all her complexities, was the challenge he never knew he needed.

And as the summer nights rolled on, they both realized that sometimes, the best connections come from the most unexpected places.

#pope heyward x you #pope heyward #pope heyward x y/n #pope heyward x reader #obx cast #obx season 4 #outer banks #outerbanks fic #outerbanks fanfiction #obx rp #obx smut #obx pope #the pouges #pope heyward prompt #pope heyward smut #herwierdassfic

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dark-and-kawaii · 1 year ago

Note

Maybe this is self-indulgent, but what about beating Haarlep in the game of seduction? Like, making the incubus long for Tav instead of the other way around. I want to see Haarlep being utterly desperate for someone, see him yearning so fiercely it makes him burn, see him so swept up by the passion of another that he is being lavished with that thoughts of him trying to use/command the situation in some way don't even occur to him until after he has come down from the high of pleasure. What do you think would be going through his mind?

Starved

Haarlep x Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I really enjoyed receiving this request, I’m sorry it took a hot minute to post, but I did enjoy it greatly. Scenarios like this for Haarlep make my knees crumble. I wrote a small story and answered your question after it!! Please let me know what you thought <3 And please enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Submissive Haarlep | Starved Haarlep | Comfort | Slight NSFW

Haarlep's eyes, usually filled with a predatory gleam, now held a hint of vulnerability. Something about your aura has ignited a fire within them, a craving they cannot ignore.

As the Incubus circles you, your lashes flutter with lust. The desire to be mounted by them, to feel the creature's cock sliding into you, is undeniable. You had wanted them since you met, yet all you could do was tease them with a subtle kiss here and there.

Each time you visited before Raphael’s demise, Haarlep’s tail would twitch with delight, in hopes it would be the day they’d command your body, yet you’d always deny them. And with a gentle caress to their cheek, you’d whisper, "Soon, my Incubus. Soon." Before walking away, your clothes hugging tightly to your frame, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And each time you left from their sight, Haarlep would groan, the feeling of being starved too much to bare, and the need to sink into your heat becoming unbearable. No one has ever denied them, but you had, and that only made the Incubus crave you even more.

Haarlep recalls those nights where they would have no choice but to stroke their own length. A visual of you naked and begging for them to fill you was always enough to help them finish. But it wasn't the same.

This is the first time you've been able to truly be alone, to be able to indulge in all the fantasies that have been building. Haarlep's voice, usually smooth and commanding, trembles ever so slightly as they move closer towards you. Their words filled with a desperate longing. Haarlep yearns to taste the forbidden fruit that is your body, to cherish the intoxicating symphony of pleasure that awaits you both.

Every touch, every caress of yours, sends electric currents coursing through Haarlep's veins. Their body, usually so confident and self-assured, now quivers with need. The way your gaze lingers over their shape causes them to dissolve into a malleable state. It's an unfamiliar sensation... And in that moment, the fact that they are an incubus slips from their consciousness.

Haarlep has seen, been with thousands, but never once has anything, or anyone made their heart quickened it’s beat quite like you. Hells, Haarlep never even knew such a thing possible for their kind. The Incubus, who has known no other feeling than that of sexual desire, is experiencing something entirely new, and it scares them.

And when your lips meet their chest, their skin aches with every flick of your tongue, they can't stop the moan from escaping. Their hand tangling in your hair, as their other holds you in place, and for the first time, Haarlpes mind becomes clouded.

The once dominant incubus now becomes the submissive, lost in the rapture of their union. They are consumed by the sheer euphoria of the moment, their thoughts of control and manipulation vanishing into thin air.

You, empowered by your ability to awaken such submission in Haarlep, take the lead, guiding them through a dance of passion and fulfillment. With a single kiss, you claim the incubus as your own, Haarlep’s very own soul now bound to your will.

Your hands explore their body, tracing their abs, moving lower, and lower still. As your fingertips reach the base of their cock, Haarlep’s breath hitches. You feel their pulse quicken, and your core clenches.

Without hesitation, you wrap your fingers around the thick shaft, and with a tight grip, you guide it into your folds. The incubus shudders, their head leaning back, mouth agape, eyes closed, while you slowly sink onto their thick member.

As you take in more and more of their length, Haarlep is completely overwhelmed. They are utterly stripped of control, a willing slave to your whims and desires. Their hunger for you, their need to be thoroughly and relentlessly ravished, becomes all consuming. Every bounce on their cock, every kiss, sends waves of pleasure crashing over them, shattering any remnants of resistance they once possessed.

As the climax approaches, Haarlep's body tenses, their groans and moans reaching a crescendo of ecstasy. In the throes of pleasure, they reach the pinnacle of their desire, trembling and quaking beneath your loving touch. It is in this moment of ultimate surrender that the realization of their vulnerability dawns upon them, leaving the incubus breathless, impressed, and completely sated.

As your lips part, you stare into the eyes of a creature you never once thought you’d fall for, their will now completely submissive, their soul forever bound to yours.

"I am yours, and you are mine.” Is all you say, before resting your forehead against theirs.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Haarlep is used to being the one who stirs sexual relations, not the one overwhelmed by it. As Tav begins to turn the tides, Haarlep might initially be confused. They are not accustomed to the roles being reversed, and it would take them time to understand what's happening.

Eventually realization would dawn on Haarlep that Tav is not just resisting but actively seducing them, Haarlep would likely feel surprised, proud/impressed of Tav even.

I think because Haarlep is so accustomed to being in command, they would find the loss of control a bit frightening but eventually once they come down from the high they’d find it thrilling since it was you/tav. If it was anyone or anything else the fear might linger a bit longer…

There might be a grudging respect or even admiration for Tav's prowess. Haarlep would recognize the skill involved in turning the tables on an incubus, and part of them might appreciate the challenge Tav presents. Leaving them wanting to be at your side.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #haarlep #haarlep the incubus #haarlep x tav #haarlep bg3 #haarlep x reader #raphael bg3

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livesworthlivingau · 11 months ago

Text

Lives Worth Living Chapter 15

ISAT/Two Hat spoilers below. CW: Uhhh.... emotional pain, idk exactly how to tag this one but it's gonna hurt y'all, I may or may not have cried at work just THINKING about this chapter... So uhh, yeah, you've been warned.

(You awaken to an odd sensation. It feels distantly familiar, like a wave of healing and confirmation washing over your very essence… a save point?… Wh… Why are you feeling this now? This hasn't happened any other time so far… was it Loop?! You barely even finish the thought before your hand is placed beside your head in the usual 'call loop' sign… and the connection never comes.)

"Loop…" (You shudder out softly as your hand falls back to your side. You sit there, frozen, mind racing with all the horrible possibilities of what this all could mean. Were they gone?… Were you too late?… Could you even loop back before now if you wanted to? Why is the connection gone?! What happened to them?! They can loop too right?! You have to go back! You have to try!! Yo-)

"Sif? S-Sif are you okay?" (Isa's voice snaps you out of it, perking up a little and looking over at him. Tears have been pouring down your face. Isa sits up quickly, wrapping his arms around you almost instinctively, holding you close to his chest with worry.)

"I-I… I can't feel them anymore… Loop's gone!" (You choke out through the lump in your throat. You can't stop yourself from sobbing anymore. You retreat into the comfort of their touch, and yet you can't help but feel so alone in this moment.)

"I-It's okay Sif, I'm here… We'll figure this out, I'm sure they're fine!" (He tries to comfort you, but you both know his words are empty promises.)

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

"Are you certain they're gone? Maybe something just severed the connection, or there's an interference." (Odile theorizes as her and Mira had entered the room to console you. You sit in bed, holding your legs to your chest under you cloak, hiding your face in it as your expression looks hopeless.)

"I could always feel them… the slightest little blip, even when they never showed back up again… a-and now they're just…" (You start to explain, tears forming in your eye once more.)

"B-But we don't know what they've been doing! It doesn't mean they're gone!" (Mirabelle chimes in, trying to be as hopeful as possible.)

"What else could it mean, Mira?! Why else wouldn't I be able to feel them anymore?! I-I… I have to loop back, I-I have to try and sto-"

"Frin?…" (Your heart stops as you look to the door, noticing Bonnie standing just outside of it.)

"B-Bonbon! I-I-… I didn't… I-I'm not…" (You stammer out, your body shaking. Bonnie looks devastated, clenching their fists with tears welling up in their eyes. They then sprint back down the hall as they start sobbing. Odile sighing and following after.)

"I'll try to talk to them." (She nods to Isa and Mira, as if handing off the problem for them to deal with you…)

"Sif, please, you gotta calm down and then we can try to figure this out."

"What is there to figure out?! They're gone!! A-And if they're gone then what's even the point of going through all this again?! I-I-… I can't! I can't do this!!" (Your voice screams out, gripping your hair so tight it nearly tears out of your head. Tears continue to pour from your single eye.)

"Siffrin! P-Please, you'll hurt yourself!" (Mirabelle cries out as she looks ready to craft some healing for you.)

"We don't know they're gone Sif, we could-" (Isabeau starts to console you before you snap back.)

"Of course they're gone!! Why wouldn't they be?! Everything else that matters to me vanishes! Loop! My home! My memories! MY WHOLE BLINDING LIFE!! IT'S ALL GONE!!"

"…Sif… You've still got us…" (He pleads, you can hear the devestation in his voice.)

"Do I?! Because I just spent the last 30 years with all of you and only I can remember any of it!! That makes me feel pretty blinding lonely right now!!" (You can't even bear to look at either of them, but the silence stings painfully in your ears.)

"... C'mon, Mira, I think Sif just needs to simmer down." (Isa does his best to hide the break in his voice, but he's clearly fighting back the tears. The both of them leave the room and shut the door behind them. You grab the pillow beside you and bury your face into it. You scream as loud as you can, you scream until your voice gives out and your throat is raw, then you try to scream some more. The tears eventually stop flowing from your eye. You think you've just ran out of them.)

(You pull your face up from the tear and saliva soaked pillow, just throwing it to the side. The light from the window flickers as the branches blocking the sun drift about in the wind. You hop up off the bed and open the window wide, climbing out and sprinting to the largest tree you can find.)

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

(The favor tree towers over you. You need a leaf, your favorite one… None of them mean anything to you in the moment. You grab the most Fresh looking leaf you can find. You hold it close and whisper into it thrice.)

"I wish to find Loop…"

(You delicately fold the leaf and drop it at your feet. You wait… You wait some more… You're getting impatient. You pick up another leaf, you whisper into it 6 times.)

"I wish to find Loop."

(You fold and drop the leaf again. You wait. You clench your fists and jaw, letting out an annoyed growl. You pick up another leaf, and scream into it until your voice gives out again.)

"I WISH TO FIND LOOP! SHOW ME WHERE THEY ARE YOU STUPID BLINDING UNIVERSE!!! I HAVE TO FIND THEM!! I WISH TO FIND LOOP!!!!"

(You violently crumple the leaf up and throw it to the ground, panting and shaking, staring angrily at the set of useless leaves you had used. As you prepare to grab yet another leaf, a strong gust of wind flows through, swooping up the 3 leaves you had used and fluttering them along through the tree line... the faintest hint of sugar fills your nostrils. You begin walking the way they pointed.)

#lives worth living au #lwlau #isat au #isat fanfic #isat spoilers #isat #in stars and time fanfic #two hat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #isat two hats

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devilevlls · 1 year ago

Text

Friends with benefitsೀ⋆｡

Gender-Neutral MC༘ ⋆｡˚

Levi and MC had a little fun while watching anime, exchanged looks and perverse caresses lead them to improve their friendship on a different level. FWB.

Word count: 820 words.

Levi won the poll of "which brother should be the main focus on the new content?" I hope you guys enjoy it 💜

📌 TW: Sexual acts, mutual masturbation. MC’s genitals aren’t described.

On a cold and cozy day, MC decided to pay a visit to Leviathan's room, the avatar of envy. With the absence of classes at RAD, the two planned to spend the afternoon enjoying the new anime that had just been released. However, little did they know that the animation had spicy surprises in store beyond what its innocent synopsis suggested.

—*

The two were lying on a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, MC rested their head on Leviathan's shoulder, while he put another pile of popcorn in his mouth, his orange eyes glued to the TV screen.

The anime seemed interesting at first glance, but occasionally, it made suggestive references between the characters, which drew a few surprised gasps from the demon. With his cheeks red, Leviathan avoided looking at the human beside him, trying to hide the embarrassment that was beginning to settle between them.

The characters little by little begin to get along and, in a hot scene, they kiss each other heatedly. Surprisingly, the scene is not cut, escalating further to the point of making the demon shifts uncomfortably.

This was getting obscene.

"Y-You know, we can change this if it's too much..." His tail thrashed from side to side, betraying his agitation, as Leviathan struggled to conceal his unease amidst the intensity of the scene

“No, it’s okay…” MC regarded him with an unsettling gaze, their eyes bearing an unfamiliar intensity, aflame with a malicious fervor.

As Leviathan gradually regained his composure, he found himself unconsciously placing his hand on MC's thigh, seeking solace in the midst of the awkwardness. Sensing the touch, MC reciprocated, tentatively tracing a path toward the avatar of envy's groin.

The demon sighed, but didn't disapprove, keeping his eyes on the screen in an attempt to hide the excitement that was growing between them. Things were heating up and being alone with his Henry made his heart flutter.

Maybe the idea of doing something more wouldn’t be so bad…

Leviathan's thoughts were in disarray, his body drenched in sweat as MC ventured closer to his most intimate parts. Their gentle touch sent shivers down his spine, causing his awakened member to pulse with instinctual desire.

“Looks like someone is excited.” MC teased him, feeling the throbbing inside his pants, realizing how much it was causing reactions in his body. “Why don’t you take it off?” They suggest.

“W-What!?” He asked, turning all red, his tail hitting a glass that was nearby, spilling the contents onto the carpet. "Damn it!"

“Forget about it, we’ll clean it up later…”

“Okay… But try not being so loud… I-I don’t want my brothers to find out what we’re doing.”

—*

With his pants now lowered, Leviathan bit his lip, suppressing the needy moans that threatened to escape as MC's hand expertly moved up and down his throbbing member. The sensation was exquisite, sending waves of heat through his body. Driven by desire, he reciprocated by sliding his own hand into the human's intimacy, eagerly stimulating with fervor, determined to match the pleasure being offered.

“That’s it… Good boy…” They said excited, slowly sliding their finger along the demon’s tip, taking some of his pre-cum to lubricate the rest of his length.

“A-ah… MC…” He moaned softly, increasing the speed at which he masturbated his partner, the trembling fingers trying their best to maintain the consistency of his clumsy movements.

The two remain lying under the blankets, rubbing their sexes together and panting softly, their breathing becoming heavy as the excitement reaches its peak.

Leviathan couldn't help but moan again, squirming as the boiling sensation in his abdomen intensified, growing unbearable. He knew he was reaching his limit, unable to withstand it any longer.

“MC… Wait… I’ll… A-ahh~”

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Leviathan surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure, releasing all of his pent-up desire. MC's hand was soon coated in a thick layer of semen as he reached the peak of his ecstasy. Rolling his eyes back in satisfaction, his entire body trembled with the intensity of his orgasmic release.

“Wow, Levi, you made a mess!” They say slowing down the movements until finally stopping.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I couldn’t hold it in.” He says embarrassed, knowing he had come early and made his favorite human dirty.

“Alright, stay there, I’ll clean it up for you.”

As they rose to their feet, Leviathan's hand instinctively reached out to grasp MC's, his eyes wide with a certain fear that lingered in the air.

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret. But I hope you let me cum next time.” The human teased, winking at him.

Leviathan's heart raced at the teasing remark, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty swirling within him. "In the next...?" he murmured to himself, pondering what they meant by that as he watched MC walk away to retrieve a clean cloth.

Masterlistɞ

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me one master to rule them all #evllsposts #obey me writing #obey me drabble #obey me scenarios #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi x mc #obey me levi smut #obey me leviathan smut #obey me smut

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fangsandfeels · 2 years ago

Text

Every interaction with Astarion is a gold mine

So, finally got the encounter with Astarion's siblings, the "cuddly Astarion" bit, and the conversation afterward. And while the "other people don't have a heart like you" already has me by the jugular, this line of dialogue is just amazing:

There is a lot to unpack. On the surface, Astarion is being mean here. He doesn't mince words, he goes all in, hitting every sore spot. He says everything that ever frustrated him about us and our choices.

"A mind flayer thrall..." - a jab at the tadpole situation, the dependence on the Emperor, and maybe, at the fact that we rejected his idea to control the tadpoles i.e., made ourselves vulnerable to domination by other beings.

"...who spends their life sorting out other people's problems" - I'm sure this option is only available if we have been making kind decisions. The "spends their life" bit is particularly interesting as he hints that we're not living for ourselves. We have that incredible mix of mortality and freedom on our hands, and we give it away by getting involved in problems that aren't ours. He hates it. Or at least he used to.

NOTE: Also, a small addendum regarding the general message of his remark. It's "Look how this world has been treating you. You talk about the world being a wonderful place, but you have a tadpole planted in your skull, and even in this state, people just keep asking you for help, and you don't refuse. Nobody is helping you, though. Is this world really kind?". Despite his choice of words, he feels sorry for us.

But the most incredible part is that we actually get approval despite what he says. He can't bring himself to get mad at what we said because he knows we actually mean it. He knows us too well by now. And he wants to believe us. He wants it to be true. But he just can't afford that belief. So he forces it down and says words that are hurtful, a rude awakening for us and for him. But he even says all that without the usual bite in his voice. He is annoyed, he trying to make us understand the ridiculousness of our situation. However, he also would like us to be right. He appreciates that we believe in a world that has a place for him. And yet, he had hope dangled over his head only to be snatched away too many times. He can't let it happen again.

"I'm doing it for you, too, you know. To make sure we're both safe. Forever. For good"

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion

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sehodreams · 1 year ago

Note

Nerd!Anton getting made fun of for being a virgin so you feel bad and think that the least you can do is give him a handjob. You can tell he had the time of his life while whimpering and his eyes rolling to the back of his head while curling his toes.

Yes, I love Nerd!Anton

WC: 1K

TW and Tags: a touch of bullying, sexual content, hand job, no verbal consent so maybe a bit dubcon for some of you (but he said he wanted a girl to touch him so...)

You're as pathetic as him, you affirmed inside your head, it was hard to look at that face and not feel bad for him, his eyes wet after you made him remember why the others laughed at him the other day, making fun of him for being a virgin when a girl openly told everyone his little secret, and you knew he didn't want to talk about it, trying to circle back to the subject of your project numerous times, but there was something about his embarrassed expression when you asked him more about it that made you too curious to stop, wanting to know what had that girl done for him to let himself be fooled by her at that party, and why did he go there in first place when he used to say they were a waste of time.

With every question his face became more and more red, and when he admitted that he just wanted to be touched by a girl for once, lip quivering, head down and voice stuttering of humiliation, sending a pinch to your heart and your core, your soft spot felt bad for him, and before you noticed, you had already offered yourself.

"I'll do it" you said, almost ordered, surprising both of you.

He didn't answer, and you didn't offer yourself again, you just got closer, crawling to him in silence, and still unsure, you sat on your knees between his legs, which he opened so you could be closer to him.

You didn't understand what was going inside you that made you want to touch him, but you were already there, grasping his crotch with your index finger, looking at his eyes to see if he would stop you in any second. However, he would never do it, he just couldn't believe anyone would offer to touch him, and the only reason why he couldn't answer was because no words would properly form in his head.

His breath stopped when he saw you pull down his fly, fingertips playing with his member over the fabric of his boxers, making him gulp with the soft caressing. He wasn't feeling your touch directly against his skin and his heart was already beating so hard he was afraid you would hear it and laugh at him for being so innocent.

Still, inhaling the sweet smell of your perfume around him, he couldn't help but feel something tingle inside him, especially after his eyes looked at your lips, plump and shiny thanks to the lip gloss he saw you reapplying minutes before, because in his imagination they looked like that covered with his cum.

With his dick already hard, a pitched sound came out of his throat when you pulled down his underwear, the cold air of the room touching his member that jumped in front of you, showing a reddish color in the tip and a couple of transparent drops of precum.

You saw him looking at your lips and you smiled, satisfied with his reaction and his size, it was a lot bigger than what you expected, not that you had thought about it before, until that day you saw him like your classmate and nothing more, but there, alone, in his room, and after having teased him because of what happened days prior, something awakened inside you.

Two of your fingers making a v caressed his cock up and down, smearing the drops to his whole length and making a couple more of them appear, pushing you to tease him even more.

Clearly agitated and having a hard time breathing with you so close, touching him like no one had done before, his chest, covered with his black turtleneck, moved in front of your eyes.

It was a bit difficult at first, with his size and your hand not wet enough, you couldn't move it like you wanted, and he was feeling good, but you knew he could feel better, so you bended in front of him, and with your mouth close to his length, while looking at him in the eyes, you spat over it.

He couldn't believe his eyes, it was the first time a girl was so close to his dick, and it perfectly fitted the picture of you sucking his cock he had imagined moments ago, making his mind dizzy.

You bit your lips, wrapping his member with your hand and putting pressure in your grip, you jerked him off for a good amount of time, enjoying the image of him shattering with just your hand touching him.

Not much after you started, his hips bucked into your hand, searching for more contact, and you, feeling your panties get wet, let him use your hand to pleasure himself.

When he started to whimper you used your thumb to stimulate the tip of his cock, like you had seen other enjoy before, making his head fall and his hands become fists behind him, finding the strength to maintain his position and not cum too fast.

Sadly, soon his voice got slightly louder, whimpers leaving his mouth and eyes closed with force, with his hips sloppily thrusting your hand and arms shaking, you knew he was close, "look at me", you said when you felt his cock throb, and he did it without question, looking at you with glossy eyes, the eye contact made both of you feel hotter.

A singular long moan escaped his lips, making you grin in response, "gonna cum?", you asked, moving your hand slowly but with more pressure.

He nodded, and then, when the wet sounds of his cock fucking your hand were filling the room and his tip had started to leak more precum, you pressed the palm of your free hand against his lower abdomen, making him cum in that instant, eyes rolling to the back of his head and dick twitching thick white drops all over your fist, a couple of them reaching your clothed thighs.

He ruined your new pair of blue jeans, yet you couldn't care less about them, too focused on the pretty cock you just made cum for the first time in your life.

Yeah, it was your first time touching a dick too, but he didn't need to know that he wasn't the only virgin around.

#riize x plus size reader #riize x reader #riize smut #anton x reader #anton smut

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gyummigon · 2 years ago

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☆ moonlight | beomgyu

beomgyu x fem!reader

୨୧ word count: 2k ୨୧ genre: very very fluff, friends to ? ୨୧ n/a: writing this brought me back to life. maybe i rambled too much, but just letting the words flow made me feel warm and i hope it shows. on the other hand, english isn’t my first language, so i ask for your understanding for possible grammatical errors and such.

Thank you for the music by ABBA was playing on the radio in your father's old, beat-up truck. You were lying in the back of the car with Beomgyu beside you, enjoying the view of the night sky and the cold winter breeze that painted colorful puffs on his cheeks. A tattered blanket, that you had grabbed before leaving home in a hurry, lay under their bodies, which were close enough to give you goosebumps.

The engine of the car made your body vibrate. You sank into your thoughts for a few minutes, admiring Beomgyu's beauty as he stood with his gaze lost in the firmament. The moon cast a soft silvery light on his eyes, evoking a feeling of tenderness and serenity in them.

You were aware that the serenity that radiated from him on this particular night could only be found in similar circumstances, at specific times, in specific places, and with the necessary level of intimacy. Then his mouth would pause slightly, no longer showing his teeth in those flashy smiles that were typical of him, his lips would relax to the rhythm of his mind and a calm line would take its place, leaving his playful and joyful side until the moment he felt ready to awaken it again.

Beomgyu's boisterous personality used to be a constant presence and you were more than accustomed to it, but when it disappeared, you couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath the surface. Who was he when he was alone, with no one to smile at or joke with? Who was he when he was lost in his thoughts, completely vulnerable to his thoughts and his surroundings?

As you stared at him, you felt as if you were sinking into a pool of endless calm and compassion, unable to be anyone without the answers to these questions. This made you feel exposed, as if you had little of yourself and the breeze kissed the innermost part of your mind, taking away everything coherent and leaving only that which involved the boy next to you; your longing to share with him the purest, the most intimate, wanting to belong to each other and to find through touch the most delicate parts of his soul.

You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel the thoughts that were beginning to overwhelm you. It didn't feel right to have this kind of longing for him that went beyond friendship, but your feelings had grown to a point where you couldn't do anything to stop them.

Beomgyu broke the silence with a soft, warm laugh, his voice echoing in your ears and making you shiver. "What are you thinking about?" he asked and his hand brushed over yours in a gentle gesture. Your heart pounded at his touch as you fought to keep your composure.

"I was thinking... about how profoundly calm you become at times," you replied, trying to sound casual. Beomgyu nodded, but his gaze remained fixed on you, as if he could see through your words. "You haven't said much," you muttered and looked up, unable to bear the closeness of his face.

A silence stretched between the two of you for a few seconds, causing you to look at him with furrowed brows. Beomgyu's lips curved into a relaxed smile when you met his eyes again. Now, from the side, you could see the wind ruffling his beautiful face, making the strands of his messy hair dance and expose more of his smooth skin, tempting you to reach out and stroke it.

He looks spectacular, you thought.

"Do you mind if I snuggle with you?" Beomgyu suddenly said, moving closer to you and wrapping his arms around you.

You felt overwhelmed by his presence, by his warmth burning in and out of you; but you said nothing, just gave him a forced smile. Beomgyu didn't seem to notice your discomfort, or maybe he did, but decided not to make a big deal out of it. Instead, he made himself comfortable and invited you to do the same.

"Look at the stars," he said, pointing to the sky. "They are so beautiful."

"They are," you replied, leaning back against his chest and feeling his heart beat against your cheek. You both lay in silence, enjoying each other's warmth and the soft sound of the background music mixed with the sound of the car's engine. From time to time, Beomgyu would move slightly, shifting his position or adjusting the blanket to better cover you. Every time he did that, your heart skipped a beat.

"I'm pretty as well, right? " you heard him ask with a smile.

For some unknown reason, his question made you blush and you looked away, trying to focus on the sky. Too drunk on your own emotions, too unaware of what you were showing to keep this situation casual.

"So annoying," you said lowly, referring to your own reaction and not wanting Beomgyu to hear it, which was illogical considering the short distance between your bodies.

"There, there, don't be mad. Smile," he said as he brought one of his fingers to your cheek and stretched it upwards. "Smile."

The touch of his hand on your skin was warm and soft. You froze for a moment, feeling fragile and disoriented under his touch. It had always been like this, a constant game in which you were the cold one and Beomgyu was the warm one. It was not difficult for him to destroy you bit by bit, he was clueless and naive and had no idea what he was doing with such simple actions. However, sometimes you had the feeling that he knew more than he was showing and did not hesitate to take advantage of it.

You fought not to flinch and smiled a forced smile, not avoiding the bitterness in the gesture. Beomgyu didn't ignore it, he jerked his hand away and gave it a shake.

"Agh, how horrible. Better not do it again," he joked.

"You know, you're cute, but too unbearable," you murmured the last sentence between your teeth, almost whispering. Although he understood you, Beomgyu moved his face closer to yours, as if he wanted to hear you better, and batted his eyelashes.

"Is that a compliment?" He raised his eyebrows as the smile on his face became more pronounced. Before you could answer, he added, "Oww, you're pretty too."

You almost laughed at his nerve to speak in a sly voice when his ears were flushed. You didn't want to get your hopes up. You knew that Beomgyu was a kind and caring boy for everyone, not just for you. Maybe it was just that you were reading too much into his gestures and his words. Maybe you were the one who was in love.

You remained silent for a few seconds, and when you finally found the courage, you stepped back a little and looked at him. "So, how did your date with that girl turn out?"

Beomgyu looked at you for a few seconds, a little surprised by the sudden topic. You didn't want to ruin the moment, and you certainly didn't want to involve your feelings in the confidentiality that his friendship granted you, but you couldn't ignore the question that hovered in your head any longer.

"Um... a bit boring," he answered thoughtfully, "I don't think we're very compatible or whatever".

"I see," you said, feeling a small relief at his words. "Well, I'm sure you'll find someone you can connect with or whatever."

Beomgyu smiled but said nothing more. Silence spread between the two of you again, but this time it felt different, less natural. You felt exposed to his gaze, but you couldn't look away. It was as if he was reading your thoughts, as if he knew everything in your mind: his name throbbing in every nook and cranny.

To say that you were fascinated by his existence would be an understatement. You found in Beomgyu what you sometimes found in art, in the sublime, in the possibility of a new world; what you could only find in one of your alternate mental realities, which, not free of anguish, were exquisite in their own way.

For you saw it, and you were then a foolish romantic, admiring with your intoxicated eyes the features of your beloved, revealing the magical and the beautiful as a piece of heaven made of flesh. And there was no better time than the night, when the moonlight revealed the true beauty of his soul and alluded to the most intimate secrets that lay hidden.

In your trance, then embarrassing but no less inspiring and dreamy, you heard Beomgyu call your name and it was as if every deep part of you was called from the outside and he took possession of it. You looked at him and lost yourself for a second in the small smile on his face.

"When I look at you... do I look like a fool too?"

"No, you always look like a fool," you replied, hiding your embarrassment behind a wry smile and feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

Beomgyu frowned at your words but didn't seem to be bothered. Instead, he moved a little closer, took your hand in his and looked into your eyes. "I feel the same way," he mused in his soft, warm voice.

You didn't have time to think about the meaning of those words because the mood was interrupted when the song on the radio changed to Champagne Supernova by Oasis. Beomgyu's deep, leisurely voice following the lyrics of the song reached your ears and crept up to a place in your chest. You were instantly hit by a feeling of immense bliss, so intense and superior to all others that you thought you would never experience such a sensation again. After a life of remorse and regret, you finally found a sense of belonging in that harmonious voice. And for that brief moment, for those minutes of glory that the song lasted, you belonged to the world, to Beomgyu, to heaven, and to everything that witnessed that great act of love and longing.

After a while, the van stopped and your father leaned out of the window to let you know that you had reached your destination. With a sigh, Beomgyu got up and helped you out of the car. As you walked together towards the lake, you couldn't help but look at him sideways and fill your head with the cheesiest thoughts you probably ever had for a guy.

"Maybe you should watch the road instead of me?" he asked in a mocking tone when he saw you almost tripping over your own feet.

"Shut up," you snorted a little embarrassed as you rolled your eyes. "Just... you have something suspicious on your face."

When he heard you, Beomgyu's eyes went wide. "What? Take it off."

"Let's see..." Beomgyu paused and looked at you with uneasy eyes as you approached him. You looked at his face for a moment before hitting his forehead with your index finger and walking away. "I can't, it's stupid..." you said with a tone of false resignation that made him laugh and kick you gently.

Before you could go any further, he grabbed your arm and gave you a teasing smile. "Want to see who gets to the lake first?" he proposed, pointing to the path that stretched out before you. "Last one there has to dip their feet in the cold water."

"You're still like children..." you heard your father say a few meters away, causing the two of you to separate for a moment. You looked at Beomgyu, whose cheeks were slightly flushed, and you did not hesitate to make fun of him.

"Sir, your daughter is bothering me," he said before starting to run.

"Hey, that's cheating!"

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queenie-official · 1 year ago

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Chapter Three: ‘First Impressions’ Bridgerton au!Anakin

part 1, part 2

a/n: so the outfits that Obi-Wan and Ani are wearing are the ones in the photos ☝️🤭but guys tell me how i had more of chapter four planned out then i did this chapter 🤨 like i fr already had dialogue for chapter four before i even started this one 😀 anyway i hope you guys like this 🥰

Once more you find yourself pacing around in an endless circle. Today was the day you were to meet him. The wedding was already set to happen in a week. however invitations wouldn’t be handed out for another two days, the council told you it would be wise to get to know your future husband a bit first- but honestly how much could you really learn about a person in such a short amount of time. it’s not like you had a week to get to know each other, no you had the day to get to know him before he’d be back off to his own kingdom till the wedding.

“you need to calm down” Padme’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. you look over to where she’s sat on the settee, a concerned look on her face. you’d asked her to come over and help distract you. to her credit she did try at first but she quickly realized nothing she could say or do would occupy your mind from the days events. “i’m calm” you say trying to convince yourself that more then her. “if you can say that while standing still, i’ll believe you” she retorts whilst standing up and walking over to you forcing you to stop pacing as she places her hands on your shoulders.

“you can’t blame me for being nervous, i mean wether this goes well or not this is the man i am to spend the rest of my life with” you vent, feeling your anxiety swirl. you felt like this was an impossible situation, marrying someone you didn’t know. obviously it was a common thing but it didn’t make the reality of it any weirder to you. “what if he doesn’t want to marry me?” it was a stupid question, the better question would be why would he want to marry you. he was being moved away from his home to a foreign place with different traditions and cultures. not to mention an entirely different climate, you’d read up on Tatooine it was a Warm desert kingdom a direct contrast to Alderaan.

“that’s a possibility” Padme answers, not the reassurance you wanted but you didn’t call padme here because she would lie to make you feel better. you called her here because she would give it to you straight but also support you the best way she could. “so then i’ve forced a man into a loveless marriage” you huff, feeling anger course through you as your once again reminded of the councils rash decision that got you into this.

“most people these days end up in loveless marriages y/n. most women at least, we have no say in who we marry it’s all decided by our fathers.” that once again didn’t make you feel any better but it was the hard truth. “this is going to be a long day” you’d slump over if you could but the corset you had on prevented you from most movement that involved bending of any form. “maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised” you could only hope she was right.

“i know it’s silly but growing up i always imagined marrying someone i fell in love with. my mom and dad where in love when they got married, a rare occurrence for monarchs. i always pictured having what they did.” you say sadly, it may not be the end of the world that your marrying a stranger but it was the end of that dream. a cruel awakening to your inner child. “it’s not silly, most little girls wish that” Padme says sympathetically.

“if my dad where still alive he’d have ensured it a reality” you say solemnly, feeling your heart tug at the thought. “Bail was a good man, a good king and a good father” you feel your eyes gloss over at her words, it was times like this you really missed him. your father was everything to you, he was all you had when your mother passed and vice versa. losing him felt like mourning two people at once, learning how to cope without your mother all over again in addition to coping without him.

“i miss him” it came out more as a whisper, you felt that if you spoke any louder the dam would break and tears would spill. Padme was quick to pull you into a tight hug. she was a big help when you lost him, a loyal friend who you knew would always be on your side. “i can’t help but feel i’m failing him” you let out the thought that had been nagging at the back of your mind throughout this whole ordeal. “he was and always will be proud of you” she said firmly, rubbing your back gently.

“would he be proud of me for this though?” you couldn’t help but ask. “circumstances changed y/n, you’ve done what you could. besides it’s not as if this was entirely your decision” she reassured you. you take a deep breath, indulging in the hug you both shared a moment longer before pulling away. “speaking of i really need to do something about the council before another reckless decision is made.”

“the sooner you’re crowned the Queen the better” she says with a laugh trying to lighten the mood, though she was being completely serious. right as you where about to respond your conversation was interrupted by Barclay barging in, an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent with him.

“your majesty they’re here” he said and you stiffened, the reality of the situation crashing down onto you. you knew this was coming but it hadn’t truly felt real til now.

“oh i’m going to be sick” you mumble just loud enough for padme to hear, she gives you a gentle pat on the back a silent way of saying you’ve got this. as if suddenly reminded of her existence Barclay acknowledges her “Lady Amidala pleasure to see you” it surprisingly sounded genuine, though to be fair he had been sucking up to you the last couple days clearly something clicked in his mind that you where the one who controlled wether he actually had a job or not. that or there was something else motivating him either way his change in attitude didn’t sit right with you, something was off and you could sense it.

“Barclay” was all padme said to greet him not even bothering to turn in his direction to acknowledge him properly. you had to stifle a laugh, god you loved her. she kept her head high and walked right past him, she would be leaving through the gardens so no one knew she was there. the meeting was to be kept secret from everyone aside from the respective royal families.

with a sigh you nodded towards Barclay to signify you where ready. you both walked down the hallways heading to the main foyer, with each step you took you felt as if you where being pulled down. finding it harder and harder to move forward the closer you got. these where your last moments to breath without someone beside you- metaphorically of course, after all as a royal there’s always someone at least five steps from you which was tiring to say the least.

you could swear time was simultaneously moving faster then light and slower then molasses as you watched Barclay nod to the guards to open the doors that stand as the only barrier between you and the one you are to wed. it was hard to breath? but just as quick as the breath got stuck in you it was knocked right out as one of the guards rose there voice impossibly loud to announce your arrival.

“now presenting her Majesty, the Crown Princess Y/n Organa” it honestly made your ears ring but at the very least it served as a nice reminder of where you are and pulled you back down to earth. still it all felt a bit excessive to you considering there was only four people here excluding the guards.

Walking further in so that you and Barclay where now face to face with the two men, you scanned over them quickly. they both where good looking you had to admit, what threw you off though was how drastically different they where dressed from each other. for a moment you almost thought they came from two different places but quickly brushed that off knowing good and well that wasn’t the case.

“hel-“ just as you began to greet the two men you are quickly cut off by a third party you hadn’t even noticed was there. Chancellor Valorum. “greetings you are?” he said and you paused turning to see him standing behind you, how long had he been there? no one else seemed shocked so he must of been there for quite some time you concluded. but why was he there? deciding to act like you had known he was there you turn back to the two men. to your surprise the older looking one of the two directed his attention to you and not Valorum. it brought a small smile to your face, feeling like it was a nice change of pace finally be acknowledged instead of looked over.

“I am Prince Obi-Wan first born son of the Kingdom Tatooine. and this” he gestured to the pretty blonde beside him who could easily tower over you if he was close enough. “is my brother Anakin” he finished and you felt a little giddy, so far so good right? he was tall and handsome you could only hope he was kind and had a personality as good as he looked. though to your dismay the aforementioned man hadn’t even spared you a glance, thinking on it he hadn’t looked at you even when you first entered the room. that fact made your stomach twist.

“neither of your parents are joining us?” the chancellor spoke again before you could get a word in, honestly he was one more sentence away from you clocking him in the face. but you hold your breath and maintain your composure. this time Obi-Wan does acknowledge him but only to answer his question and you were guessing to not seem rude. “unfortunately our mother and father are quite busy but as the future king they deemed it enough for me to go with my brother for this” you felt like a child who could do nothing but watch as the grown ups speak as you look back and forth from the chancellor and him.

Thankfully Obi-Wan was quick to redirect his attention to you. “your highness shall we discuss matters more privately?” why couldn’t conversation with people of power always go this way, taking to you instead of over you. you give him a polite smile before answering. “yes let’s move this elsewhere” you say with a nod. “lead the way.” was all he said in turn.

as you all walk down the halls of the castle you can’t help but notice how quiet prince Anakin was. it worried you, was he always this quiet or was he choosing not to say anything. did he already hate you- to be fair if he did you wouldn’t blame him. if the roles where reversed and your kingdom had been basically black mailed into giving you up as marriage you’d probably hate the person you thought responsable as well. you found yourself actually wishing you two where alone so you could explain yourself and hope he could understand. Then again who’d say he’d believe you, it was worth a try though wasn’t it?

unsurprisingly throughout most of the meeting chancellor Valorum spoke for you any chance he could. and just as in the foyer Obi-Wan directed his answers to you. time dragged as you guys finished up flushing out the details of the agreement more thoroughly. it was all so casual and you couldn’t help but feel sick especially with Anakin sitting right there not saying a word. you couldn’t even get a read on his emotions his face was a blank slate. it made you anxious and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just hurry up and get all of this over already or drag it out longer so you could procrastinate the inevitable.

it was evident just how long the meeting had taken when you were met with the setting sun as you looked out the window. a panic ran through you when you realized you had no time at all to talk Anakin now and the next time you’d see him would be the day of the wedding. you where now truly going into this marriage blind- not that you would of learned much about him today regardless but anything would be better than nothing.

closing up the meeting with a handshake between the chancellor and Obi-Wan, even though he had clearly held his hand out for you- you all stand up and head out of the meeting room.

Anakin had still yet to say a word, Obi-Wan being the one to speak on both there behalf’s when saying goodbye. even as they walked away you watched as he didn’t even speak to his brother, maybe he was mad and his silence was the politest protest he could do. you could only hope your whole marriage wouldn’t be like this, what an awkward life that would be. though maybe you’d get used to it at some point.

all of these thoughts swimming in your head stopped as a pair of blue eyes met yours, it was brief and for a second you thought you’d imagined it. he had look back at you right before the castle doors closed.

that’s all you had to go off of until you would meet again for the wedding day.

part 4

okay guys the next chapter will feature a lot more Anakin and yes the pretty boy will speak 🥰 this took me forever to finish 😀 mainly because i’ve been writing this in between doing work 👩‍🦯👩‍🦯 anyways i hope you all like this chapter i know it was a lot more emotional then the others but reader is going through a lot at once 😭 side note i love reading your reply’s you guys are funny and real asf🤭 that’s all i have to say for now enjoy huns Xx<3

tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #star wars anakin #atoc anakin #rots anakin #anakin x you #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x reader fluff #anakin x reader oneshots #bridgerton au!anakin #bridgerton au!anakin x reader #bridgerton au #bridgerton #queenie’s thoughts xx<3

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