#sorry i’ve been in possession of these facts for most of my life now and they still drive me INSANE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

canthelpit0 · 9 months ago

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Jealous girl

Pairing: Chris x jealous!Reader

Wordcount: 5.1k +

Summary: where a girl from school, that you don’t like, somehow knows Chris. Your school life and private life collide, as you decide to make rash moves to get back at her, and teach her a lesson.

Warnings: smut, jealousy, rich kid!Reader, use of y/n, they’re seniors in HS, marking, possessive!Reader (if u squint), pet names, p in v, filming, creampie, unprotected

(A/N: ik I’ve been doing a lot of rich kid reader, but it’s just sm easier 😭 I'm sorry for any grammar errors, English is not my fist language. also, the song has like barely anything to do with the plot.)

I’ve been friends with the triplets for most of my life. We just click.

I’ve always had a slight crush on Chris, he’s the first one I met.

I was scribbling a drawing in kindergarden, sitting at a table all by myself, when Chris came up to me. He started to talk to me and rant about something, until he declared us friends.

We grew up together, went to the same elementary and middle school. But being a rich kid, my parents wanted me to go to a private high school for better education.

So now I go to a private high school in Boston, while the triplets go to Somerville high school.

At first I really didn’t want to go, since it was a private school with uniforms and all. But my parents weren’t letting up, and even threatened to send me to a boarding school in Switzerland.

So I reluctantly agreed.

There was this girl, Eva. Your basic blonde girl with green eyes.

Now, I never liked Eva’s friend, but that was years ago, and I don’t think they’re even friends anymore.

Anyway, me and Eva share the same AP European history class.

We don’t talk a lot though.

★ ★ ★

I walk down the hallway making my way towards the door. Today was a draining day and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.

But I have homework and-

My thoughts are cut off as I stop in my track raising an eyebrow. There was chris, standing in front of the main entrance of the school.

“Y/n?” He asks excitedly. It’s like my brain pauses for a moment.

“Chris?” I ask back.

At this point I hadn’t seen Chris or his brothers in a month or so. I was too busy studying and they were busy with lacrosse.

I live in Boston at the border to Somerville. And Chris lives in Somerville. But my school is 40 minutes away from his by car.

He opens his arms and I gladly hug him. I sigh as we embrace, my eyes closing briefly.

“Why are you here?” I ask. After all, Chris, to my knowledge didn’t have a drivers license and no reason to be here.

“Well, you know Eva? Well I gave her my jacket a week ago and I came to pick it up since she goes to your school-“ He rants, his words come out fast and jumbled by how excited he is to see me.

“How do you know Eva?” The words come out sassy. And honestly if i wasn’t hyper aware of the fact that we’re on school grounds I’d slip in a swear word.

“Well a week ago I was out in Boston shopping with Matt and Nick and this girl came up to me asking for my jacket since she was cold. Just out of nowhere” he starts to rant again, but I don’t even have half the mind to interrupt him.

After all, this felt like two of my separate worlds were colliding. And I didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t seem to dislike her like I did, wich only made me despise her more.

“And you gave it to her? A stranger?” I raise an eyebrow a huff leaving my lips.

I sound more sassy than I intend to, but I can’t help it.

Students walk past us slowly. Being in a private school most people loved it here. They weren’t pushing to leave.

We stand at the side of the main entry, still inside.

“Yeah. She asked for it” he sasses back, matching my attitude. Yet his smile stays big on his face and I could tell he wasn’t serious.

“What if she stole it?” I roll my eyes looking back up at Chris who had a few inches on me.

“That’s what I said too.” He agrees dramatically. “So she offered to give me her snap and told me she’d give it back to me next opportunity she got.”

That seems a bit dumb to me. She’s rich, she could just buy a new jacket if she’s outside and cold.

“You’ve been talking?” I question. I cringe slightly at the jealous tone lacing my words but Chris doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Yeah” he chirps back happily.

Oh so now they were snapping too?

He sticks out like a sore thumb. The way he carries himself, the way he smiles and acts, is just a dead giveaway that he does not go to a private school. Let alone, the fact that he’d not wearing a uniform like everyone else walking out right now.

Some people give us weird looks, but most don’t even care.

I purse my lips, if my day hadn’t been bad already, it was definitely ruined now.

The problem wasn’t that he had friends, other than me. But the fact that I knew her and knew how much of a Bitch she is, and how he can’t realize that.

The fact that he knew that she goes to my school, and that i probably know her, But didn’t even bother to mention it to me.

“You know what class she has right now?” He asks me. He actually has the nerve to.

“No.” I roll my eyes. Honestly I couldn’t care less. I only share that one class with her.

I turn on my heel to walk away, but before I can he grabs my elbow pulling me back slightly.

“Please don’t leave?” He asks sweetly.

I huff yanking my arm out of his grasp. Sure it could be awkward standing in front of the main door, obviously not going to this school looking like a lost puppy. But it’s Chris, he’ll survive.

“Chris, I have shit to do”

that’s a lie. I don’t have anything planned today. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

“Pretty please??” I huff turning back around. I stand next to him, my arms crossed as I scan the people leaving the building.

“Cute uniform you got there.” He says licking his lips slightly as he looks over my body.

I was wearing the green plaid skirt. And a basic white, collared button down. Along with the schools signature green cardigan and the tie.

I had so many layers on it was crazy. Since it was a more chilly day in Boston I had my tights on, but under the tights I had Thermo leggings on to keep me warm.

Honestly if people at public schools think the dress code is strict they should go to a private school for a day.

Once three buttons from the top of my collared shirt were unbuttoned and I was dress coded for it.

Atleast the skirt wasn’t horrendously long.

It could still be considered a mini skirt if you squint.

“You say that every time you see me in it” I scoff. I can’t help the fact I’m being sassy, I’m just in a horrible mood.

“I mean it.” He answers.

But before i can respond I hear an annoying voice from in front of me. “Hey Chris.” I turn my head to look at Eva.

The bitch is smiling wide. She was wearing the khaki skirt and the navy blazer with the black tights.

I purse my lips. God I wish I could dress however I want to for school.

“Hi Eva.” Chris greets her with a hug.

I physically try to hold back a scowl. They talk about something and I drown Out Eva’s pitched, bitchy tone.

Of corse Chris wouldn’t pick up on the flirting. But I see the way she smiles at him. The way her eyes trail over his face and linger at his lips for too long.

And I don’t know why I’m getting all territorial, but I guess I’m scared that Chris won’t have time to hang out anymore if he starts dating.

Either that or I just know how much of a bitch she is and I could treat him better than she ever could.

“Y/n this is Eva, Eva this is y/n” Chris makes us shake hands. He introduces us like we don’t know each other.

She chuckles at the silly gesture. She doesn’t hate me and I don’t hate her either. I just don’t like her, and the way she acts.

I’m rich, sure. And I’m more wealthy then her, but atleast I don’t act like a brat.

We start to walk, with them chatting, and me just trailing behind them.

We get to Eva’s car, she’d said something about driving him home or something. Does this girl know he lives like more than 40 minutes away?

My skin crawls at the thought of them being together in her car for that long. All alone.

“Chris come here” I wave him over for a second. Eva doesn’t question it instead going on her phone.

He walks over to me. I grab him by the shoulder to pull him down as I whisper in his ear. “You always pick the worst people to befriend.”

I let go of him. He groans rolling his eyes. His past two friendships with girls he befriended had ended horribly. But it was so predictable.

“Y/n/n. Come on” he scoffs. I turn to walk away to my own car to drive home.

Until he grabs my arm again pulling me back. “Can we talk.” He mumbles his arms wrapping a round my torso his chest pressed against my back.

“Not now.” I huff pushing myself off of him slightly. He wasn’t holding me tightly so I get out of his grip fairly easily.

“Y/n” he huffs.

“Don’t start.” I sass at him. I clench my jaw. I feel disappointed but not surprised. Eva wasn’t the type to show guys she’s interested in just how bitchy she really is.

“I gotta go, have fun.” I smile at him sarcastically. I let my smile drop as fast as it had appeared finally walking away from them.

But when I glance over my shoulder he’s already standing next to her smiling down at her.

★ ★ ★

The whole week after she found out I knew him, she’d constantly call him, and be around me and tell me stuff about him as if I didn’t know.

She’d sho me pictures of them together, she’d tell me jokes that I’ve heard before.

It was just the same old recycled bullshit.

He’d told her that we’ve known each other for basically forever. Why the hell was she talking to me like I didn’t know him?

That weekend I went over to the triplets house like I usually do, ready to sleepover.

I was in nicks bedroom talking to him.

“God, Chris always has terrible friends. And he needs to stop talking to everyone he sees.” Nick says with an eye roll.

This was our weekly complaining session.

“I know right, he befriended some girl from my school-“ I’m cut off by Nick.

“Eva?” I nod.

“I met her a few days ago and she’s so annoying.” He agrees slapping my arm a few times as he gets worked up.

“Right.” I scoff agreeing with him.

“And she totally has a thing for Chris.” He rolls his eyes hard.

I purse my lips. Good to know that I’m not delusional and that someone else sees it too.

After that the conversation topic shifts until Nick is ranting about some random TikTok song, and about how it’s obviously written to go TikTok viral and whatnot.

★ ★ ★

“Where are you gonna sleep tonight?” Nick asks, lying flat on his back, on his bed.

I slept over almost every weekend. And usually I’d rotate between whose bed space I’ll take up.

It is Friday, I always come over Friday after school. And then I stay until Sunday. And Sunday afternoon I go back home.

I always stay over on the weekends unless I have like an upcoming exam or something.

“Uhm.” I pause. I should sleep in Matt’s room tonight. But I want to talk with Chris more.

“Chris” I state. Nick doesn’t even question it.

The last time I’d slept over was over a month ago. and while sure, we did hang out in the past month, I spent all my weekends studying.

Nick had no mind to question me. He couldn’t care less. I could tell he’d missed me, and knowing I was sleeping over was comforting no matter where I slept.

We talk for a bit more until I stand up and pick up my overnight bag. I hug Nick and tell him I’m gonna head to Chris’ room.

We really need to talk about making good friends, and who to not befriend.

Because it keeps happening that Chris will pick out the shittiest people to befriend. And god it’s so irritating having to listen to him complain after they ‘betray’ him.

I walk upstairs to Chris’ room and unceremoniously swing the door open.

Once the door opens I’m immediately greeted with the sight of the pale pink LED’s on. There he was laying on his bed laying ON his side his phone up to his face.

“Oh hi y/n” he smiles at me briefly before going back to staring at his phone.

Chris usually called me any nickname under the sun before calling me my actual name.

Eva’s piercing voice echos out of the phone speakers making my expression sour immediately.

“Hi y/n” she says loudly. I can’t help the eye roll.

“Chris.” I hiss under my breath my eyes narrowed in a glare. He glances back at me his lips pursing in mild annoyance.

He tells her he’s got to go and that he’ll call her back. Chris then hangs up, slightly sitting up, his back pressed against his head bored.

I walk in fully, now closing the door behind me.

I put my overnight bag on his desk.

“I think she likes you.” I say simply my lips tugged into a straight line.

He huffs a laugh as if he thinks I’m joking.

I look over my shoulder, observing the grey sweatpants and white wife beater combo.

He crossed his arms staring back at me.

“I’m dead serious.” I say flatly. “Ever since she found out that I know you, she’s been coming to me in breaks and talking about you like I give a fuck.”

He poked his tongue into his cheek his expression falling flat “you’re serious?” He asks his voice painfully monotone.

“Of corse you didn’t realize” I roll my eyes turning back to look at my backpack.

“Whatever” I roll my eyes. I grab my make up bag that I always had in his room and I walk out the room to the bathroom to take off my make up.

After a few minutes I come back to see him on his phone again.

“Shit you’re right.”

Chris breathes out not even looking at me just saying that. He was going through previous messages only now seeing the underlying flirtation in her choice of words.

I raise my eyebrow at him before it registers what he is saying.

“I know” I say simply.

“How do I let her down slowly?” He asks his eyes finally going up to meet mine. His blue eyes only seem more exaggerated under the pink LED lights.

Before walking away from the door I lock it, he sends me a questioning glance but ultimately doesn’t say anything.

“You know, like how do I tell her I’m not interested, without saying that?” He adds still looking at me.

I walk up to the side of his bed.

I then roll my eyes getting on the bed. I sit next to him my back against the headboard as well.

We’re both quiet, the air in the room thickening. I can practically feel my skin burning up.

“How about you make a bold statement?” I break the silence after a moment.

Before he can respond I turn and get on his lap. My eyes are dark as I Simply sit on his thighs.

His hands go to my waist out of instinct. My arms wrapping around his neck.

He huffs out a breath his cheeks tinted a slight red. “What? you wanna make a sex tape or something?” He rolls his eyes.

I roll my eyes back at him. “That would be bold, but I don’t want her to see your dick.”

“Ooh possessive?” He teases. Chris unconsciously squeezes my side making me whine under my breath.

He chuckles at the sound, but before he can comment on it I’m speaking again. “I was thinking hickey , but if you want to fuck so bad then-“ I cut myself off.

“We can do both” he assures.

I lick my lips. And before I know it I move his face with my hand tilting his head to the side. My lips touch his jawline. I kiss down his jawline to his neck before I start to suck harshly.

He lets out a harsh breath his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Easy ma, you got all the time In The world.”

Ma. I genuinely don’t know where he heard that, but at some point he just started calling me ma or mama.

Like I said, he used every pet name under the sun, before saying my actual name.

I pull away for a second my eyes scanning the small purple bruise on his neck.

“No.” I breathe out harshly before starting to peck his neck again. Until I bite down, relatively low on his neck close to the other hickey.

I bite hard, making sure my teeth print would be there while also sucking another hickey into his skin.

He hisses at the harsh feeling, his hands clenching and unclenching on my waist. He doesn’t stop me tho. Quite contrary, I hear a few whines leave his mouth. His sounds sounding borderline like moans.

I pull away admiring his neck.

I move the strap of his wife beater to the side, kissing down his collarbone. I suck more marks into his skin, until I deem it enough.

“You wanna tap this, handsome?” I tease , my eyes meeting his pale blue ones.

His eyes are half lidded and his pupils blown out in pleasure.

It’s really late by now. It’s dark outside. And the light pink LED lights make his blue eyes look even bluer.

“Please?” He asks sweetly his tone feigning innocence.

I can feel the hardness press up against my clothed core. I grin back at him, my eyes dark in lust and half lidded like his.

I cross my arms and tug off my t shirt. I throw it to the ground, letting Chris Bask in the sight of my bra covered chest.

The lust radiating off of him only seems to double.

“So pretty.” He coos. And before I know it he’s leaning forward and kissing my chest.

He glances up at me through his lashes and mumbles against my skin. “Can I leave hickeys too?”

I chuckle at the question. It really didn’t matter for me. My schools dress code is strict and I would have to cover them up anyway.

“Under the neckline” I nod simply. And before I realize it he’s sucking on the tender skin of one of my boobs.

He licks and sucks at the skin, half my boob covered in his saliva now.

I tug in his top. He groans against me, obviously not wanting to pull away. But he eventually does, I pull the wife beater over his head and throw it to the floor.

His hand goes up to cup my other boob while he kisses down from my collarbone to my chest and then sucks another hickey at the top of it.

I card my hand through his hair while I don’t bother pulling him off. He lets me stroke his hair moaning into my skin.

He pulls away, his eyes even darker than before. his hair now messy as well.

I get off of him. He groans at the loss of contact. I can see he’s about to complain. But before he can, I start to undo my pajama pants and slide them down.

My black lacy thong and my black lacy bra match.

Chris had made fun of me for wearing such ‘slutty’ underwear before. After all whenever I showered here I left some of my clothes, namely my underwear, here.

I had my own little section in Chris’ closet filled with my panties and bras.

“Fuck.” He breaths out closing his eyes briefly and then opening them again as if checking if he was seeing things.

He starts to shift and tug down his own sweatpants. He eagerly tugs them off along with his boxers letting his cock spring free.

My mouth quite literally waters at the sight of his hard dick lying flat against his stomach.

He lays down flat on his back looking to his side to look me in the eyes.

“Please ride me ma.”

He says in such a pleading and whiny tone, how could I say no to that.

I walk past his bed to his desk and pick up my phone from where I’d put it.

I walk back tugging the thong off swiftly. I get on top of him straddling his torso. I grind myself against his dick, feeling it glide between my wet folds.

I tug on my bra trying to get it off. And when I finally do, it’s also discarded quickly.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous mama.” He sighs looking at my boobs, both of them having small hickeys on them.

He puts his two hands on my waist lifting me slightly. He trails one hand down to my folds examining my pussy.

I feel him push his middle finger into my cunt abruptly to wich I moan.

He hums as if he was thinking. “So tight baby.” He coos his second hand on my waist caressing my skin gently.

“Gotta stretch this pussy out. We don’t want it to tear do we?” Chris asks sarcastically, obviously joking.

I lick my lips and let out a dry chuckle. His girth really did look painfully big. Atleast for what I was used to.

It wasn’t like he was that big, but it was definitely well above average.

I hand him my phone so he can start recording and that’s just what he does. He uses his hand from my waist to film this.

The camera pointing right at my pussy. He pushes a second finger in, briefly finger fucking me and scissoring his fingers to stretch me more.

“So fucking soaked.” He groans under this breath.

Chris takes his fingers out of me grabbing his hard dick and jerking it for a second. I lift myself and he positions it at my cunt, while also making sure to keep the camera at the right angle.

I push myself down letting out a breathy moan.

His hand, that’s not holding my phone, goes to my waist to steady me.

I suddenly push myself down on him completely. I whine loudly, my body jerking forward at the impact. He groans at the feeling of being balls deep in me.

“You okay?” He asks rubbing my waist gently in comfort.

“Yea” I breathe out my eyes closing as I try to get used to the feeling.

My legs are already numb and I’m already questioning why I’m on top.

I start to slowly bounce myself on him. He watches through my phone, his eyes glued to where we connect, seemingly fascinated by the sight.

“So tight for me.” He breaths out harshly trying to hold back loud groans. He was painfully aware of the fact that his siblings and parents were home.

I start to bounce on him more listening to him shower me in praises and compliments.

“Fuck.” His eyes stay trained on the phone screen, but he occasionally glances up to look at me.

I start to ride him harder the compliments and praise only making me wetter.

“God, come on, get yourself off on my dick like the slut you are.” He huffs. His free hand lightly on my waist to help me steady my movements.

He tries not to be too loud, both for the camera and because everyone is home.

I lean forward slightly and take my phone from his grasp.

I film his face and his reactions now.

His hands go to my waist slightly squeezing my skin as I start to rock my hips harder.

“Good boy, be quiet yeah.”

I feel the knot in my stomach tighten threatening to snap. The constant hit to my sweet spot is so overwhelming, and before I know it I’m releasing on his dick.

my hands are shaky but my phone is still angled at him, catching his mouth dropping in pleasure.

I clench around him letting out soft whines and moans, while Chris uses his hands to make me grind on him.

After a second when I calm down he grins. Chris holds his hand out for the phone that I give to him. He lifts me slightly to show the Camera the white circle my cum created around his length.

He makes no move to switch our positions so I just grind into him.

Chris turns the recording off and puts my phone on the nightstand. His hands find their way to my hips holding me tightly.

But before he can switch our positions like he was lplanning to, his phone starts ringing.

I glance ova seeing Eva as the caller ID. I roll my eyes. I feel pretty over stimulated already, but I want her to know.

“Pick up.” I demand under my breath. Our eyes meet for a moment but he eventually complies.

He leans over and takes his phone, picking up the call with a frown.

As soon as I hear her annoying voice i start to ride him again, making sure that the slapping sounds are loud enough.

He tries not to groan at the movements, trying to keep himself together.

“Eva, uh” he pauses his eyes locking with mine once more. He can’t help it when his free hand on my waist urges me to go harder.

“I’m kind of busy right now”

But she doesn’t get the hint and questions him. “Too busy to talk to me?”

Fucking pick me.

“Yeah well” he lets out a soft groan, pulling the phone away so she doesn’t hear it too well.

She starts to yap about some unimportant shit. Chris puts the phone on the side of the bed sitting up.

I stop moving due to Chris harsh grip. He pulls me off and flips us around.

I grab the pillow re- adjusting it so the side of my face is buried in it, my ass up for him.

He grins a soft slap echoing through the room. He kneeds my ass trying to smooth the pain of the slap.

He spreads my cheeks and pushes himself back in. He immediately starts up a harsh and fast pace fucking me into the pillow.

“Are you having sex right now?” Eva questions sounding like a brat who was just denied a toy

He leans over for a second picking up his phone. “No I’m not, why would you think that” he scoffs continuing his relentless attack to my sweet spot.

My core throbs around him, clenching to try and suck him back in.

“Oh my god you are-“ before she can rant about god knows what, Chris hangs up the phone.

He scoffs his grip in my waist tightens as he continues to forcefully pull me back on him.

He goes to the camera app on his phone starting to film once again.

He admires the way his entire length disappears into my tight cunt, and the way he has a white ring around the base of his cock from my previous release.

He picks up pace even more, if that was even humanly possible, until I feel like im going to cum again.

I turn my face and burry it in the pillow trying to muffle my noises. Because honestly I’d be surprised if the whole house didn’t already know what we’re doing.

“Close” I whine out between incoherent moans.

“Me too ma. Hold it for a bit, yeah?” He says sweetly his harsh actions not so sweet.

“Where do you want it?” He keeps glancing between the camera and me, sometimes angling the camera to show my back and the back of my head too.

“Inside” I whine. And that mildly catches Chris off guard.

He only picks up pace tho, his palm meets my butt again, in a harsh slap. I moan at the feeling. “Come on come for me” he demands.

And before I know it the knot in my stomach snaps once more my thighs shaking and my cunt clenching a round him.

The Camera is focused on my cunt. His thrusts get more sloppy and messy until he gives me one last harsh thrust.

Chris releases into me, filling me up to the brim and stuffing me.

We both stay like that for a moment to catch our breathes.

He stops the recording and throws the phone next to me, onto the bed.

He trails his hand over my ass and lower back, before gently grabbing my hips and pulling out.

He lets out a breath seeing his length covered in our combined juices, and me leaking.

He pushes me on my side slightly, so I’m laying down fully. I sigh turning my face into the pillow my arm under it.

“You okay?” He asks softly. Chris kisses my shoulder softly.

I just realized that we hadn’t kissed once. This entire time, his lips hadn’t been on mine not once. And I don’t know if he did that on purpose or not.

“ m’ good” I sigh closing my eyes briefly.

I nuzzle my face into the pillow, breathing out. I blink my eyes open again sighing.

I feel his eyes burn into the side of my face.

“Were you jealous?”

My eyes shoot open and I turn my head slightly to look at him. “About what?” I say simply playing dumb.

“Why do you not like her.” He asks again.

“I never liked her.”

“Right, and you don’t like that she likes me.” He states simply.

I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself” I huff and nuzzle my face into the pillow.

“You literally have my cum inside of you right now, ma.” He huffs in response.

I purse my lips burring my face harder into the pillow.

“I like that.” He says again making me look back at him. Chris is looking down at me with a sweet smile

“What?” I ask and look at him from the corner of my eyes.

“That you’re jealous.” Chris replies, his smirk ever so cocky.

“Why would I be jealous?” I huff, replying sarcastically.

“Don’t deny it ma. I think it’s cute.” Chris chuckles. He grins down at me victoriously. He lays down next to me staring into my eyes.

Masterlist

A/N: this was so fun to write lmao. sorry for not posting in the past few days, I was just busy with school and didn't have the motivation to write. Feel free to to send me stuff my req and asks are open <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf

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19catsncounting · 4 months ago

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I Got Really Into Anti/Proship Discourse And Read +30 Academic Studies - My Findings

(It’s a Yapfest but the whole post is a very long essay and study on morality and fiction and children’s safety and rape culture with a fuckton of freely accessible academic articles and resources on the subject, and I want to talk to other people about it. For a shorter abstract with all the articles and more easily ignored yapping, see my shiny new Carrd:)

It’s been a little shocking lately to have certain discussions with some parts of fandom. I spoke about shipping/harassment and how that contributes to the death of fandom on TikTok assuming that younger folks are just really, really intense about preventing sexual violence, but the more I saw the words “morally wrong” and “disgusting” and “addiction,” the more I thought about this guy-

That’s Jerry Falwell, and I fucking hate this dead guy. You see, Jerry Falwell was a preacher who hated porn, feminism, and homosexuality. And I'm seeing his rhetoric and reworked quotes a lot.

Jerry would say stuff like:

“Pornography hurts anyone who reads it - garbage in, garbage out.”

“Someone must not be afraid to say ‘moral perversion is wrong.’ If we do not act now, homosexuals will ‘own’ America!”

Jerry wanted people to believe that it’s possible to see so much sexual content that it warps your sexuality, because he was gay and wanted to think that was due to thinking about gay sex too much. Jerry did not have a lot of evidence to prove that homosexuality was harmful, so he relied heavily on how “morally distasteful” it seemed to be to suburban Americans.

I spent the majority of my teen years arguing against Jerry’s rhetoric for the right to live as a lesbian online, and I never thought I’d see morality rhetoric in people I’m otherwise very politically aligned with. And I definitely never thought fandom of all things, in all its beautiful subversive glory, would seriously start advocating for censorship, anti-porn, and to consume fanwork with moral purity.

So, I’d like to have a deeper discussion on it, both here on Tumblr and on TikTok, but that does mean checking a few things at the door:

Personal feelings decide your personal life. What you feel is valid for you, not anyone else.

In general, things that do not cause direct and undeniable harm should not be broadly prohibited just because they’re weird or distasteful to the majority of folks. Ex. Loitering does not cause harm and is a tool of systemic oppression.

The discussion of “fictional CSEM” is the most inflammatory fork of this and it is often used to derail these kinds of conversations. This is all I will say on it - the legal status of explicit visual depictions of minors is muddy. In the US, there is just one dude in Utah who pled guilty for possessing explicit lolicon he bought by mail order without also possessing CSEM with real children, and explicit writing about fictional minors has been settled as protected free speech. Dedicated organizations from the NCMEC to Chris Hansen have asked that fictional content is not reported as CSAM as it is not actionable and clogs up finite resources. 90% of NCMEC reports were not actionable last year. There are studies suggesting that virtual CSEM or other non-victim alternatives could reduce actual child harm, but there is need for further research.

We’re all in agreement that untagged NSFW is not cool, and kids deserve kid-only sections of the internet. People who are triggered by or dislike problematic content deserve to be able to not see it. 👍

(I’ve seen the argument that blocking tags/people should not be required - sorry, PTSD still requires that you manage your triggers, up to and including swearing off platforms just as I have sworn off bars/soap brands/etc to avoid my triggers.)

I have found a lot of accessible and free articles and studies that I will link throughout so that we can discuss the fact-based reasoning, in an effort to have a civil conversation.

(Also because we are not flat earthers, we are Fandom, and if we’re going to be annoying little shitheels in an “Um Actually” contest, we’re going to have the sources to back it up.)

Minors and Explicit Material

I’m not supporting minors engaging with explicit material. I have such little interest in the subject that I’m not even going to bring in articles, but you can feel free to. I personally engaged with explicit material as a preteen of my own free will and did not find it to be harmful, and the majority of people throughout human history have been exposed to explicit material at an early age with varying degrees of harm. There are undeniable legal and harm-driven differences between a 12 year old girl looking at Hustler on her own, a 14 year old boy being sent nudes from a grown woman, and a 6 year old viewing PornHub. (And I think the guardians of that 6 year old should be charged with grooming just like the woman, tbh.)

Personal Disclaimer

I’m an adult survivor of CSA and incest. I’m a happily married adult. I don’t personally like lolicon/shotacon/kodocon. I don’t like kids. I don’t like teens. I’m personally not attracted to underage fictional characters. I have family, the idea of fucking any of them makes me want to throw up and die, so I don’t write or read RPF of my family.

I am really, really fucking intense about preventing sexual violence, supporting survivors, and fandom, which is where this all comes from.

I read and love problematic fiction - my favorites are ASOIAF, Lolita, and VC Andrews. The most “problematic” thing I’ve personally written are Lucifer/Michael fics from Supernatural back in 2012. They are “brothers” in CW Christ, not blood. They do not have any blood.

Gen Z and Online Grooming

In 2002, a survey of 1500 minors from 10-17 found that 4% had been solicited for sexual purposes by an adult online.

In 2023, that number increased to 20%.

While the linked 2023 Thorn report suggests that the vast majority of these inappropriate interactions happened on platforms that allow for interpersonal communication, which by and large minors were greatly discouraged from and had less access to in the early 2000’s, a trauma-informed approach does not allow for blame to fall on the children. The guardians of those children have monumentally failed to restrict and educate before giving children the means to access those platforms.

It is my uncited but personal opinion that the increased rate of grooming, as well as an increased interest in combating rape culture, has led to well-intentioned individuals to become digital vigilantes attacking those who they hold responsible for their traumatic experiences in a search for catharsis and justice denied for themselves as well as a desire to make the internet safer for other children, whom they are increasingly aware are entering online spaces unsupervised at distressingly young ages.

Is harassment and bullying bad for perpetrators of it?

Before we get into how ship-related hate campaigns do not affect predation or combat rape culture, we should acknowledge that it’s actually pretty harmful for the people who cyberbully. Not just in the legal/social consequences, but people who participate in cyberbullying and cyberhate campaigns have higher rates of depression, estrangement from their parents, self-effacing habits, social anxiety, lower empathy, and so forth.

One study suggests that the treatment and prohibitive for cyberbullying, which contributes to a culture of cyberhate and a lower likelihood to report or confront other incidents of harassment or toxicity online, can be combatted with media competency to increase empathy along with other important life skills.

Some Common Pro-Censorship Myths

“Pornography is Addictive/Consumption of Pornography Leads to Increasingly Hardcore Imagery And Ultimately Real-World Violence” - The American Psychological Association does not recognize Porn Addiction as real and the DSM-5 does not classify it as an addiction. Additionally, many methods used in articles claiming that porn is addictive or causes users to seek out more hardcore material were flawed or biased. There is actually some evidence that compulsive porn use, the closest you can get to a porn addiction diagnosis, is associated with shame and the user’s belief that pornography is morally wrong, which sex-negative attitudes encourage.

“Jaws caused shark culling” - That's unfortunately a simplification that ignores a LOT of surrounding context. WW2’s modern naval battles with an increase of ship sinkings and thus contact with sharks prompted the invention and use of shark repellant by aviators and sailors in the 1940’s. The most deadly and famous shark attack of all time was the USS Indianapolis sinking in 1945, which led to 12-150 deaths. The 1974 book Jaws by Peter Benchley, which was the entire basis of the movie, was inspired by One Fucking Dude who started shark hunting tours and overall seemed to have a really immaculate vibe. The interstate highways that finished in the 1950’s increased beach tourism in the 60’s and onwards, inspiring the American surf culture, further increasing the cultural desire to purge sharks for the new swath of beachgoers and their fondness for using surfboards which make them look like seals to sharks. Additionally, 1975’s Jaws inspired a huge desire for education about sharks, and the relationship between problematic media and education will be the core of this yapperoni pizza.

“The Slendermen Killings/Other Fiction Inspired Crimes” - The ACLU states that “There is no evidence that fiction has ever driven a sane person to violence.” Inspired crimes are indeed no less tragic, and thankfully rare, but people who suffer from inability to discern reality and fiction do not necessarily need fiction to commit violence. The “Son of Sam” murder spree was not inspired by a book or movie, but instead Berkowitz’ auditory hallucinations.

“Violent videogames DO cause violence” - After a great deal of funding and study, the American Psychological Association has concluded that teens and younger may have increased feelings of aggression and not necessarily physically violent outbursts as a direct effect, but older teens and young adults do not encounter statistically meaningful rates of aggression.

“Your brain can’t tell the difference between fiction and reality” - Factually incorrect. Children as young as 5 years old can tell the difference, and they can even be more suspicious about “facts” that come from sources they know also host fiction, such as TV shows.

“This stuff shouldn’t be online because it can be used to groom a child” - While I could not find specific statistics on how often pornography is used to desensitize child victims, nor how often that is specifically used in online grooming, and especially not how much of that pornography is made from fictional characters - out of a mixed group of convicted offenders with adult and child victims, 55% of offenders used pornography to manipulate their victim. I would never refute that explicit fanart or fanfic could be used to desensitize a child, but that is by far not the only tool (asking about sexual experiences/identity, making jokes, etc is extremely common grooming behavior), and there is no evidence to suggest that it is used to a statistically significant degree. In my own anecdotal experience, normal vanilla legal pornography is used with far greater prevalence, and there isn’t a similar movement to shame its production for that possibility. Nor should the creators of any material, pornographic or otherwise, share blame in the actions of a predator.

The Fiction Affects Reality Carrd

(No hate to the person who made it, in fact I give props to them for trying to find unbiased sources, I just want to point out that their interpretations of their articles are kinda flawed and one of their studies is a kind of a perfect example on small and culturally biased samples.)

Reading Fiction Impacts Aggressive Behavior - (I cannot access the full study but this article is the primary source used in the Carrd and it goes into detail) - A study showed that 67 university students were more annoyed with a loud buzzer after reading a short story about a physical fight between roommates compared to a story with nonviolent revenge. However, this study was conducted at Brigham Young University, the same campus where we got a whole video series of hot ethical takes like “I’d rather shoot a kitten than drink coffee,” so uh. Yeah. Kind of a prime example on why it’s important to have large and culturally varied sampling. (Another BYU study with 137 BYU students being odd about moral ambiguity in fiction, just because I’m starting to add Dr. Sarah M. Coyne to my list of “Sarah’s That I Dislike.”)

Your Brain on Fiction - a NYT article that describes Theory of the Mind and how fMRIs captured how readers’ minds would light up centers of muscle control when reading sentences like “Peter kicked.” The quote “The brain, it seems, does not make much of a distinction between reading about an experience and encountering it in real life; in each case, the same neurological regions are stimulated” is speaking of motor functions. Emotional centers of the brain were not included in the study.

How Fiction Changes Your World - a Boston Globe article that actually describes how people who read more fiction are more empathetic and tend to believe in a just world. It does not state that the empathy a reader feels for fictional characters extends to corrupting their moral compass. In fact, there’s such a thing as a “fictive license” to explore taboo themes more thoroughly because it is not real - 123 participants were interviewed after watching two actors play the part of detective and murderer being interviewed, and participants who were told it was fake had more varied and inquisitive responses.

The Social Impact of Books - Actually reuses the previous study about the just world, so point remains. Empathy is understanding, not mirroring.

Is Problematic Fiction Good for Survivors of Trauma?

It absolutely depends on the individual.

Writing expressively about traumatic experiences has been shown to be effective to reduce depression, or more effective in reducing dysphoria and anxiety than talking to fellow survivors, and Written Exposure Therapy is broadly prescribed to survivors of trauma, with one study centering on car crash survivors finding that WET resolved their PTSD symptoms and continued to be effective after a year.

In this study, which sadly is not available online but it is too important to leave out completely, survivors of CSA were given fictional novels about CSA and in closely reading and analyzing those stories, were able to understand their own experiences and were indeed drawn to write about their own experiences as well.

Engaging in problematic fiction, like all fiction, allows for consent as well as control. If at any point a survivor does not feel in control or wishes to stop, they can at that instant. They can even rewrite their narratives and take control of their story in fictionalizing and changing the account. They can even try to understand what their abuser felt through fiction, which is helpful considering that the vast majority of survivors had a relationship that had been positive and even loving with their abusers at times.

Is Problematic Fiction Good for Everyone Else?

It again depends on the individual.

Antis might be a little right that most people don't want to read problematic stories. In a study exploring whether fiction can corrode morals, 83% of study participants stated that they would prefer not to read a short story justifying baby murder if they had the choice, even if that exploration isn’t inherently harmful.

This very small sample study of 13 participants discussed how young women interpreted sexual themes in writing, including explicit fanfiction, and how that was beneficial and informative to explore sexual desire and examine healthy and unhealthy relationships in a safe and controlled environment.

This meta-analysis further discusses how problematic and sexual themes in YA literature are useful to illustrate what sexual violence looks like, and begin educational conversations through those depictions to break down harmful myths such as “if she didn’t scream, she wanted it.”

Empowered by the “Fictive License” previously cited, problematic fiction can be beneficial for anyone who desires and is capable of consuming and analyzing it.

This study analyzing abusive aspects of three films - Beauty and the Beast, Twilight, and 50 Shades of Gray - concluded that these abusive themes should be discussed to increase recognition and awareness, not censored based on those problematic themes.

This study of 53 women were asked to read different versions of fictional intimate partner violence flags, or “toxic behavior” like surveillance, control, etc. In every version of the story, whether the female or male had those behaviors either courting or committed, the women recognized the behavior as wrong.

Another study that reading allows for the moral laboratory to explore morality in fiction without decisive impact to corroding moral permissibility.

Is There Ever Any Point Where Fictional Interests Definitively Speak On Someone’s Morality?

In short - not really. Loving Jason Vorhees does not put you at risk of murdering campers as long as you know he’s not real. Writing Wincest does not mean you look forward to family reunions, as long as you know incest isn’t okay in the real world. The real world, where real people are harmed, is where you find the measure of someone’s character.

This Psychology Today article is the best source I could find for quotes from a fantastic book ‘Who's Been Sleeping in Your Head? The Secret World of Sexual Fantasies’ by Brett Kahr regarding taboo sexual fantasies and how they are not only common, but not inherently harmful.

There are people who enjoy problematic media in an entirely nonsexual sense, of course. I myself don’t get off on problematic media - I think it’s just interesting to explore different experiences, and I think that can be revolutionary.

Additionally, fantasies in general have almost always been in the vein of “things you don’t want to really happen in reality.” In a study of 351 asexuals, more than half reported that they fantasize about having sex, but that doesn’t mean that they actually want to. You can fantasize about dating Billie Eilish - it doesn’t mean that you’d be happy dealing with celebrity culture.

(I personally fantasize about the internet being just for adults, but in practice I think that would be incredibly harmful and isolating for at-risk youth and LGBTQ teens) Fantasies always pluck out only the bits of reality that you want to engage with.

If You Get Off On Fictional Kids, You’re Attracted to Something About Them Being Kids

Not inherently, surprisingly. Wearing a schoolgirl uniform is a pretty common roleplay, and it’s not meant to “fool” the participants into thinking they’re indulging in pedophilia. There’s a wealth of emotional and sexual nuance in that specific kink - innocence and virginity play, tilted power dynamics in ‘scolding’ the uniform wearer for dress code violations, even the concept of a sexually provocative “teenager” can be played with without shame, because the world of fetish and fantasy is separated from condonable actions for the vast, vast majority of adults. (The only study I could find on this is this small study of 100 white guys found on Facebook, which itself states it is not definitive, found that while there might be correlation between attraction to children and interest in schoolgirl uniforms, there is no proof of causation. AKA, the rectangular pedophile might indeed like square schoolgirl uniforms, but not everyone - in fact, the majority at nearly 60% in this very survey - that likes square schoolgirl uniforms is a rectangular pedophile.)

Even sexual age play between adults is not indicative of pedophilia because it exists in a setting between two adults who fully understand that the mechanics are completely fake, allowing the power dynamics that would be abusive between an adult and child to be ethically explored.

I don’t have an official-looking study to cite, but I have asked people who like content about underage fictional characters why they do so. Overwhelmingly, a lot of the ones who like underage age gaps like the fantasy of an older and more experienced character taking a younger one under their wing, to have the opportunity to commit violent and blatantly objectifying harm and yet try to create what inevitably does not truly pass as consent, but seems near enough to the characters. Some think that the characters themselves have an interesting chemistry. Some read underage fic and still imagine the characters as adults. Some like to explore the feelings of shame that the older character must feel and how they mentally compartmentalize to go forward with the relationship, and how the younger character found themself in that vulnerable position - which is exploring a harmful situation through fiction to understand how it could play out in real life.

People who like fictional incest like exploring the shameful components of that taboo relationship - and I have seen a lot of works that compare how bad incest could be to other harms, like the Gravecest route in a game with parental cannibalism. And then there are folks who like analyzing the codependency of having one person fulfill every social need - family, friend, lover, AKA Wincest.

What makes a predator if it’s not just sexual attraction?

90% of CSA survivors know their abuser, discrediting the still-entirely-too-popular Stranger Danger myth. And shockingly, only 50% of abusers are pedophiles.

That means 50% of child molesters do not have sexual interest in children because they are children, but they victimized children because they are more accessible in lieu of adult partners, with increased rates of incest.

While I could not find a specific study on the relation between dehumanization/objectification of child victims and child molesters (and if you find one, please send it to me!), this study speaks on dehumanization as a precursor to adult sexual violence.

This study, conducted on convicted child molesters in prison, showed that child molesters tend to fantasize about children while in a negative mood, further contributing to the theory that child victims are dehumanized prior to abuse.

This very small sample study found that in a mixed sample of internet only/contact crime/mixed offenders, offenders who had contact with children had lower rates of fantasizing about children.

In short, half the time a child predator is someone who wants to offend against a child regardless of attraction to the fact they are a child.

Resources To Recognize Grooming/Abuse Victims/Predators

I would absolutely be remiss to not share my collection of resources to help detect signs of abuse/grooming as well as warning signs of a predator who may be targeting elders/women/teens/children:

Darkness 2 Light is a fantastic resource overall, this page details stages and signs of grooming.

RAINN personally helped me through my PTSD journey, and this article detailing the signs of sexual trauma in teenagers is thorough and non-judgemental

Signs of abuse as well as warning signs of predation that does not use gendered language nor play into the Stranger Danger myth.

Education, not Censorship

I think a lot of the energy against taboo content among young people still has a lot to do with the desire to end rape culture. The tools that we Millennial Tumblrinas gave you Gen Z kids were snatches of leftist theory, deplatforming, and voting with your dollar, so it’s reasonable to think that removing taboo content like pedophilia, incest, rape fights rape culture.

It doesn’t.

Rape culture is fought by education. Comprehensive sex education, education about consent. Talking about what consent looks like, what sex can look like, what rape can look like.

There should be more taboo content to talk about these things, to show all the shades it can look like. From a violent noncon to fics that aren’t even tagged as dubcon yet still are in shades that are hard to suss out, we should talk about it.

A Non-Empirical Example Of Good Media Analysis and Education to Combat Rape Culture

Let’s use the example of Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen’s relationship in House of the Dragon. Canonically, in both the book and the show, they have a romantic relationship that appears for the most part to be positive (the show being more contentious but I dedicated an aside to Sarah Hess and our beef at the bottom of my Carrd, but feel free to ask how I feel about writing producers with any variation of the name ‘Sarah’) despite an age gap, a sexual relationship that began while Rhaenyra was a minor, and incest - the problematic hat trick if you will.

I have seen anti-Daemyra shippers condemn Daemyra shippers for “Condoning grooming, age gaps, pedophilia, and incest.” Which is not just a broad, inaccurate, and harmful statement, it’s not at all constructive or educational analysis.

It would actually be beneficial to say “Daemon is grooming Rhaenyra as a teenager with gifts, devoted attention that takes advantage of her isolation and vulnerability, frequent nonsexual touches, the extreme desensitization to sexuality in the brothel visit,” etc etc. And even so, it is not useful to say that people cannot still ship the relationship and acknowledge those aspects. They might want to further explore the issues of consent in their dynamic in fiction, they may want to strip away some of them with narrative reimagining. Some might want to ignore the taboos completely and indulge in the fantasy entirely, and some might find the actors hot as hell - AKA, anyone who watches the show.

It’s honestly a little similar to me in how Jerry Falwell would tell his followers not to watch or read or take in any media that dealt with homosexuality unless it was condemning it - even Will & Grace was on Jerry’s shitlist. And so, Jerry’s followers missed out on a lot of media that could have educated them about queerness, could have humanized queer people for them - and that did not make queers go away. Just like ignoring or shutting out media about incest, rape, and other forms of sexual violence doesn’t make those things go away - it just tends to make you less informed, and little less capable of empathy towards people affected by those subjects.

So let’s stop shaming those that ship a complicated dynamic - you get less fanworks exploring those taboos, and less of a discussion overall. You shut down the morality lab of fiction, and to be honest, it’s wet sock behavior.

Some FanFiction Specific Studies

How dubcon fanfiction can flesh out the intricacies and messiness of realistic consent

A review of darkfic written about Harry Potter in 2005 (which, I will personally attest has never been outdone in how profoundly taboo those works were)

Interviews with 11 Self Insert writers who wrote on themes of rape, abuse, control, yandere, etc, and how that was beneficial to some who had experienced sexual violence themselves

Conclusion:

H…holy shit, you actually read all of that?? Congrats dude! That is a lot of time and brain power to dedicate to any one thing!

By the way, I am not really gifted at writing articles or any of that junk, and I tried to make my hyperlexic ass a little more accessible instead of bringing out all the $5 words. I am literally just an autistic who took a couple technical writing classes over a decade ago and really wanted to sort out my thoughts and try to have a platform for discussion. Also, I am really fucking bad at math. I failed two different college level statistics classes twice each. Gun to my head, I could not tell you what a standard deviation is, which is why I worked entirely with the percentages.

And I do want to have a discussion! I would in fact like to not report anyone for sending me gore or death threats or any of that stuff! I don’t think everyone will agree with me, in fact I’m certain that you could find studies that contradict some of mine, and I’d love to discuss them!

I’m sure it will still be tempting to throw around accusations of pedophilia because sometimes, confronting your previously held beliefs is incredibly uncomfortable. If you could not do that, that would be great? I don’t like being compared to someone who profoundly abused me just because I have a different opinion on how to combat rape culture and empower survivors. If you can do that, I’ll do my absolute best to be cheerful and welcoming and respectful as well. 😁

PS - I’m also not really going to be phased if you call me weird or cringe - I am. Always have been. Cringe, weirdness, and autism have made me do and capable of doing some fantastically neat and impressive stuff. But if you try to say something like “proshippers are too yucky and weird to be in fandom” - I’m going to have to refer you to your similarity to Kate Sanders of Lizzy McGuire fame, you “prEpz >:(“ - [My Immortal, legendary author unknown]

#disc horse #fandom discourse #fandom problems #fandom culture #proshipping #anti censorship #anti anti

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paymechildsupport · 9 months ago

Text

Teacher!Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Reader // Teacher!Sukuna HC's <3

(THIS IS NOT STUDENT X TEACHER, READER IS NOT A STUDENT!)

Personally, I think it’s an actual crime there isn’t more teacher!sukuna content out there. I’ve only ever seen one fan art of it, and ever since I’ve been scrounging around on my hands and knees to find more

So m’ gonna just do it myself 🙏

-!! [AFAB + AMAB] READER (HC’s involving reader’s bodily autonomy have both a female and male vers. → brief smut drabble at the end) [everyone's in on this one👏]

-!! Reader is a rather powerful sorcerer

-!! CW: Slight possessiveness (mainly for the short smut at the end → overstimulation, dacryphilia, slight size kink(?), mention of double cocks for og form Sukuna)

-!! Veeeery slight nod to manga spoiler if you squint. If you don’t know it 99% certain you won’t pick up on it

-!! Sukuna being a bit of a softy for his SO

3k+ words

————

Awhile (around a good few centuries) ago, Ryomen Sukuna came to the conclusion that no, this was in fact not the way he wanted to live his life. He decided to put everything behind him; the bloodshed, the death, the massacres, and cannibalisms— (okay maybe that stayed the same)— all the things that essentially made his staple as the King of Curses. He’s a changed curse, he swears it. Honestly? Human food? Not that bad. Kinda worth changing his world view for

With a changed work ethic, and a changed heart, Ryomen Sukuna made the conscious decision to become a teacher, — specifically a teacher in sorcery

—————-

Ryomen Sukuna works at Jujutsu Tech,-- the infamous King of Curses, who predominantly spends most of his days helping ungrateful brats obtain the necessary skills to kill his kind

→”No, you thick-skinned brat, you’re doing it all wrong!”

“I’m sorry, Sukuna-sensei! I’m trying,--.. I really am! Could you maybe go over it one more time–”

“No! You’re going to die all alone as your friends are tortured mercilessly!”

“How could you say that…” 🥺

Following the fateful passing of Yuji Itadori’s grandpa, the poor kid awakened as a sorcerer with a rather nasty supply of cursed energy; a complete abnormality with an aura suspiciously like that of a certain Ryomen Sukuna…

→ “The little brat is not living with me”

“Awh, c’mon Sukuna-!! The kid’s a ticking time bomb to disaster, he needs help controlling his cursed energy, and who better to help than the amazing King of Curses himself!”

“Shut up, Satoru Gojo.”

“Ohoho~... looks like someone isn’t happy to become a single mother~~”

“What-!? Single moth– fool, you yourself are a single mother”

“...oh, yeah. Hehe… 😚”

“I hate it here…😒”

Now, with the additional burden of personally attending to Yuji Itadori, there was only one thing keeping Ryomen Sukuna from completely imploding:

You. His partner, his lover, his spouse, his anchor,-- the only source of light in his miserable, cursed life, – the sole person keeping him from reverting back to his old, murderous ways.

Meeting a few years back, the ancient curse could’ve sworn the world got a dozen shades lighter the second his eyes landed on your form in the Tokyo crowd. Where everyone was actively moving away from his looming, intimidating hulk of a body, you looked at him with eyes void of the fear reflected off so many others.

You approached him with interest, recognizing his unmistakable aura for that of the King of Curses, – and, to his utmost shock, – you proceeded to have a perfectly normal, civilized conversation with him. Never once did you look at him like you would a monster. Every time he’d get lost in those eyes of yours, never once did he find anything short of pure love and affection. It was sickeningly sweet.

There on a mission, you introduced yourself as a fellow Jujutsu Sorcerer.

Ryomen Sukuna could’ve sworn he’d heard your name before: rather infamous with the higher-ups, you were a well-respected sorcerer. That only aided to his immense confusion: why would a sorcerer of such high esteem and all around regard even remotely think talking to him, the King of Curses, was a good idea?

Absolutely flabbergasted and entranced from your first encounter, Ryomen Sukuna was practically completely at your mercy. It took very little for you to simply haul him over your shoulder and take him wherever; he’d soon become akin to a lost puppy with you.

Ryomen Sukuna is absolutely down-horrendous with his emotions. Hah, communication? Never heard of her.

He’s never felt this deep for anyone before, and it terrifies him to no end. You terrify him to no end,-- the amount of power you have over him could be almost comical.

At the start, he flat out avoided you altogether. Anytime he’d see you on campus he’d immediately start in the opposite direction. Anytime you’d attempt to strike up a conversation something would come up,-- he’d have to go somewhere, or the brats had gotten themselves in trouble again. And when Satoru Gojo found out about his little “crush”... oh boy, the teasing was lethal.

It wasn’t long before he craved your touch, and Ryomen Sukuna started to enter withdrawal from your presence. You were brutal, the poison continuously being pumped into his veins, – which was extra ironic, considering he was after all the King of Poisons, – how the actual hell did he end up in such a position? What have you done to him?

Man, he was cooked.

With a lot of time, and a heck of a lot of patience, did the curse finally allow himself to reveal more of himself to you.

It’s never been easy, – even after you two were married did Ryomen Sukuna still suck absolute ass at communicating his wants.

He craved your attention, your gaze, your approval. You were the drug that he simply couldn’t get enough of.

He’s not good with words, – in the past everything was just handed to him, – he had no clue how to actually work for someone’s affection.

Please be patient with him, – he’s trying, he really is 🥺. No matter how much he denies it, no matter how much he complains he hates being dependent on someone, no matter how much he claims how meaningless love is, you both know deep down these feelings of deep admiration and affection aren’t one sided. Sometimes, that fact alone can get you through even his most frustrating of times. He pushes you away because he feels guilty, but almost immediately does he regret his actions and desire your presence more than anything. The things you do to him

He lost his original form centuries ago, abandoning it after his near fatal confrontation with the sorcerers of the Heian Era. Gravely wounded, he absolved to staying hidden, laying low in the shadows. Sometimes he wished he still had that form, – still had his four arms, his two faces– he felt stronger, prettier in that body. Despite how much you told him how beautiful his current, two-armed form was, he wonders if you would’ve liked his original form– what it could do, how it could please your body. (But most of all he missed his two massive cocks to shove deep inside you–)

Ryomen Sukuna is very insecure about his image as the feared “King of Curses”. He’d be seen as weak, like he’d gone soft, – if anyone found out about you. That did little to deter you from showering him with your affections though <3 Even if he struggled to receive such affections–:

“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing–”

“What? Am I not allowed to visit my darling husband at his job?”

“No- ..! Who exactly do you think you are, you can’t just waltz into wherever to embarrass me–” You were in an empty classroom in what would be the normal time for lunch. The students would be out eating, so it was only you and him.

“Is that really all you think I do? Embarrass you?” You fought to conceal the pained expression threatening to bubble up to the surface.

“Yes! Do you know what they’ll think of me if they see me with you? He snaps angrily

“Are you.. Ashamed of me?” You blink

“What-? No, of course not” His face contorts into a scowl

“Then why can’t people see me with you?!”

“That’s not what I meant–” He hisses

“Yeah?” you retort, “then, what did you mean by that?”

“I–....” Ryomen Sukuna only ever seems to find himself short of words with you

Nodding curtly, “I’ll take my leave then” you make your way to the door

“Wait-” you pause, he hated seeing you upset. It made him feel hopeless, it made him feel weak. “tsk, nevermind. Leave then”

Huffing, you step out the door. Your second foot never even leaves the threshold before you’re lifted up by a pair of strong arms.

“Gah-! Ryomen– what the hell?!”

“Shut up.” the curse growls, placing you down on the nearest desk with a surprising gentleness, “just shut up.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck

You smile, accustomed to his brazenness, knowing this was him succumbing to his own affections for you.

“I’ll be quieter next time.”

“Mmm… don’t be”

“Oh?” you quirk an eyebrow, “are you no longer embarrassed of being seen with me?”

“No,” he grumbles, “if any pathetic worm dares to utter something against me, I’ll cleave their head off”

Chuckling, “charming”

“I’ll do it for you too” that part he whispers, so low you almost miss it. Almost.

“Awh, you’d slaughter anyone putting dirt on my name? And they say romance is dead 🥰”

“Shut the hell up.”

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

Sukuna Ryomen would have a special ringer set for you in his phone so whenever you’d text him he’d know it was you

He never responds to anyone’s texts,-- anyone’s that’s not yours.

The second he hears that notification that man is immediately scrolling. It took him years to figure out how to work a telephone,-- and he still kinda sucks at it. So it takes him a while to respond, – he’s just a slow typer :)

He’ll be in the middle of sparring with Yuji for his training when he’ll hear your notification and swiftly whip out his phone, – still in the middle of fighting. Poor Yuji will still be sweating his ass off trying his very diddly darn hardest to land a singular punch and he won't even glance up from his phone 😭

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, – the guy could be in the middle of fighting a Special Grade and he’d start texting you about what he wants for dinner while simultaneously throwing slashes 😟

Not big on PDA, – but alone? Man, you can’t get the bastard off you, – blud’s clingier than a kitten 😭he just really likes being nice and snuggled up in your arms

Alone, will often call you, – regardless of gender, – doll, (whore), sweetheart (if you’re not being a pain in the ass), – possessive lil’ shit and likes to add ‘my’ in front of any pet name, just to enforce the fact that you’re his.

Calls you karasu –(Japanese word for raven)

Sukuna Ryomen is incredibly picky with what he eats, (unless it’s your ass–) – he needs his meals done in a very specific way, otherwise he’s just not eating. It needs to be your meals too. If bro forgets to bring lunch or you don’t have time to make one for him he just starves. He’s an absolute menace when hangry– super grumpy. None of the students can stand him hungry, – and he refuses to defile his delicate palette with fast food of all horrible things

You got some of those cute cookie cutters for sandwiches and gave him little star sandwiches one day for his lunch. Mans was over the fucking moon. His ass refuses to ever eat another sandwich again unless its cut into cute lil’ shapes 🤏🥺

Be careful if you ever decide to visit him at work after a certain amount of times, cuz he will make you useful: using you as a sparring partner, giving you chores, making an example out of you to the other students.

You’re strong enough to hold your own against the King of Curses in a quick spar, – which really only means you won’t get immediately eviscerated upon throwing hands.

You’re strong, but nowhere near as strong as Ryomen Sukuna.

He’d only give you a cocky smirk, telling you to hurry up and lock in. You stare at the expecting faces of Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – who you naturally have grown a rather close bond to, being around each other so often. He gives you a reassuring thumbs up, smiling with an expectant glamor. You gulp, glancing back at your husband who has the most shit-eating grin on his face. Oh, you were cooked.

You manage to successfully dodge at least two strong attacks before being thrown onto your ass, the wind knocked out of you. Huffing, you scramble up, irritation giving you newfound determination. The King only raises an eyebrow at you.

You explode into a sprint, dashing up behind him, seemingly catching him off-guard. You lean in real close to his ear, whispering in a sultry tone:

“Your shoelace is untied”

“What, I’m not even wearing shoelaces–” and he gets thrown into the nearest tree, snapping it in half.

“Hahah!!”

“No way, Sukuna just got his ass handed to him!” Nobara exclaims, grinning

“That was so cool!” gushes Yuji, sending a wave of pride flowing through you at his excitement.

It is short lived, as your husband comes up behind you, glaring with a burning passion in his eyes.

“You totally beat him up, you sent him flying–” Megumi slaps a hand to Yuji’s mouth, his rambling getting choked off with a “mmph-!”

His smile is laced with dynamite as Sukuna dismisses the students early. Confused, but mostly relieved, the trio scurry away, Nobara and Yuji shouting cheery goodbyes over their shoulders.

Only you were close enough to see the raging lust in the King of Curse’s many eyes. His gaze rakes over your body, tensed in a fight or flight state, predatory. You swallow, hard, chuckling nervously, “Heheheh…”

Oh man, you were so horribly, undoubtedly cooked.

(short smut begins below line)

----------

[AFAB vers.]

Sukuna is brutal, hips smashing against yours, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone,

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?”

“h..*hic*..huh-?”

“Tsk,” he grunts, slamming himself particularly hard into your leaking heat, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the teacher’s desk– his desk– in his empty classroom, – only being held by Sukuna’s deadly grip. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*”

“You can,... and. you. will.” he punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white.

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..?

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, a look of pure bliss on your face.

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his long, cursed life.

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

[AMAB vers.]

Sukuna is cruel, hips smashing against your ass, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. He fucks you, bent over the desk, – his desk, in his empty classroom,-- and shaking like a pathetic mutt. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone,

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?”

“h..*hic*..huh-?”

“Tsk,” he grunts, large hand closing around your swollen, throbbing cock. Your eyes widen in horror as he begins to jerk you off at a grueling pace, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the desk only held by Sukuna’s torso. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*”

“You can,... and. you. will.” He punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, syncing with a violent pump to your cock, limpand emptied out. “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white.

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

Sukuna brain-rot goes hard-!! He's such a goofy lil' guy, I love him :3

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avocado-writing · 10 months ago

Note

hiii your bg3 writing is so *chefs kiss*

I was hoping you'd be able to write the companions' reactions to a bard!tav, giving them a private serenade one night. like they lead them to a clearing away from camp one night and there's a picnic set up and tav sings a song they wrote specifically for their love?

if all the companions is too many, could you please specifically do Halsin, Astarion, Minthara and Wyll?

oh, cute! going to give you a lute, as I think that’s easiest!

Astarion

he makes a comment about how he feels the picnic was a bit unnecessary as he can’t eat it, but you mention you’re his snack later ;)

you sit him down, pour him a glass of wine, and pull out your lute

you ask, suddenly uncharacteristically shy, if you can play him something.

he cocks his head to the side and nods.

your fingers dance across strings, and when you start to sing, he realises it’s a song about him.

you once offered to be his mirror, and tonight you repeat that. your song is about how lovely he is, in every way. how he’s handsome but kinder than he wants to admit. brave. fierce.

its the most sincere celebration of his character he’s ever heard, and by the end of it, he’s left shocked.

“oh…” “did you like it?” chewing your lip, nervous.

“it’s… you’re…” he really doesn’t have the words to convey how you’ve made him feel. so he gently takes your chin in his hand and kisses you.

the kiss gets deeper. the lute is abandoned. so, really, is the picnic. the music the two of you make then is of a different kind.

later, when he has time to come up with a suitable review, he will tell you how much it meant to him. you are his favourite musician, and he has a new favourite song.

Halsin

oh, he’s been around for a long time, but this is the first time someone’s done something like this for him.

he’s just sat in bowled-over silence as you play for him, and it is amazing. an epic ode to his life and kindness, how strong and handsome you think he is.

he comes closer as you sing, sitting right next to you. studying every inch of your face as you perform.

when you’re done, he tells you that it was the loveliest thing he’s ever heard.

“I’ve heard pods of whales singing as they meet up with their lost family… until now, it was the sweetest sound to have graced my ears.”

he gets you to repeat the song and turns into different animals to enjoy it, be it via vibrations or different ways of hearing. either way he wants to be surrounded by your music, and you.

Minthara

absolutely no idea how to respond.

she was brought up in a cutthroat world. this softness is new to her.

she remains quiet for a while as she tries to work out if you’re trying to get anything from her. is this a trick?

”oh, I’m sorry,” you say after a while when she’s just been staring. “did you not like it?”

”no. no, it was… play it again.”

you do, and she really listens to the lyrics. they’re about her beauty. how glad you are to have met her. her strength in battle and soul.

she’s exceptionally moved.

“this is… a priceless gift that you’ve given me. I have no way to repay you.” “I don’t need repayment. it was freely given.”

she kisses you, for she has no way else to thank you. you have moved her more than she thought possible.

Wyll

you play and he listens. his eyes and smile go wide.

absolutely enraptured. claps when you’re done, and cheers your performance. you laugh and bow for him.

he tells you how much you mean to him, what a sweet gift this is. how your love is his most treasured possession.

he reaches into his pocket… and takes out some paper.

“I… I know this is incredible timing but actually… I wrote you something, myself.”

and he starts to read out a poem.

oh, it is lovely. full of flowery verse, and sweet appreciations of you. all the little things which make him love you. you pick up your lute and play along eventually, and he gets into the rhythm too.

the two of you laugh at the fact that you both had the same idea! you’re so alike, so in sync.

he holds you tenderly, kisses you softly.

you end up writing many songs about your Blade. he is your perfect muse.

bonus:

Karlach bursts into tears when she hears it, and scoops you up into a big hug at the end. she’s so emotional. she can’t stop saying she loves you, she loves your song, all of it. lots of wet kisses for you.

Gale is rendered speechless for the first time he can remember. he just stares at you in adoration. he’s never had anyone love him enough to write a song about him before, and he full force of his affection for you hits him in that moment. he is smitten.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravenguard x reader #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #minthara x reader #minthara x tav

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pauli-writes · 6 months ago

Note

will u write a pt 2 for the sunday short?? its such a good concept 😓😓

warning: set during 2.3 story quest, religious themes, toxic relationship

pairing: sunday x reader

author’s note: u request i shall deliver (i’m sorry it’s been like a month, i didn’t know what to write for this but now i do) not proofread :,)

part I

“you are up early.”

you nearly dropped your bottle of soulglad as you heard the familiar voice of himeko. despite having found the watchmakers legacy and the truth about penacony, as well as stopping sunday from becoming… whatever it was that the express crew fought in the end, you found yourself restless.

perhaps it was the fact that you were forced to return to penacony, when a galaxy ranger named boothill hijacked the astral express with you and dan heng on it, you had no choice but face your past and what you saw was anything but healing for your inner self. you’d think beating up the person who kept you locked up for a better part of your life would lead to catharsis, if anything it left you more confused than before.

you turned to face himeko, forcing a smile. “ever since i first left penacony i don’t sleep well. i suppose it’s less noticeable when we’re on the express since i’m mostly in my room.”

you hoped that this explanation was enough for her, it was the truth, but not the whole truth. although you saw himeko’s expression change slightly as she put a hand on your shoulder. “don’t worry after the charmony festival we’ll leave. so, i suggest you take care of any unfinished business before then.”

you blinked in confusion. she said it so casually, that you almost missed the look she gave you. did she know about your troubles? “unfinished business?”

“you know what i mean,” himeko replied with a small smile, “well, i’ve got to go. i’m having a meeting with the ipc. i’m sure you’ll do well.”

himeko left after giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder, leaving you to ponder your choices. it wasn’t like you couldn’t return to penacony after leaving, but you seriously doubted that you would come back voluntarily.

which is why you now found yourself with your dear childhood friend robin in front of a large door.

“thank you for letting me do this.” you said to her, fidgeting with the golden astral express crew member pin on your jacket. you had been nervous since you texted robin for the favour and the many bloodhound family members around you weren’t helping.

robin smiled kindly at you as always, despite spending most of your time with sunday, the moments you spent with her were very dear to your heart. when you were children you were often forced guided to spent time with sunday, but every once in a while you played or studied with Robin and she was kind to you, almost distracting you from sunday’s possessive behaviour. maybe in a different life you could have travelled with her on her tour.

“it’s no problem, but are you sure?”

you waved your hand dismissively, trying to hide your feelings. “yeah, yeah. i’ll be fine.”

“okay,” she replied simply, “well, i have to go back to prepare everything on the radiant feldspar, but call me if anything happens.”

you nodded, “will do.”

after that she took your hands in hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze, surprising you and making you blush. “i hope this will give you the closure you need. i can not excuse the things my brother has done to you, but i hope you can move past them.”

she let go and then left you to it. with a deep breath you opened the door and let light stream into the otherwise dark room. as you stepped inside with small hesitant steps you saw him, he was sitting on a chair, chained in placed by his wrists, ankles and neck. he had the look of a fallen angel, and you suppose that was an accurate description of sunday.

an angel led astray and blinded by a god by way of false promises and the lie of a perfect painless world.

his golden eyes widened slightly as he saw you walk in, he hadn’t been expecting anyone to visit him, let alone you, until he was sentenced to death. “reader…”

“hey…” you replied meekly, even chained he had some sort of authority about him, making you feel small. “thought I should say goodbye before leaving penacony.”

he let out a dry chuckle, “don’t lie to me, please. i thought you knew better than that.”

you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. you couldn’t let him get to you. “don’t address me as if we are friends.”

“we were friends once,” he said calmly, “something more too. i remember you enjoyed our time together.”

“because i didn’t know any better,” you replied, your hands balling into fists on your sides.

“until you did and you ran away,” he replied, and you hated how calm and condescending he sounded when he talked to you. “you ran away and you left penacony, you left robin, you left… me.”

you looked down briefly. you did leave without a word, but you weren’t the bad guy like sunday would want you to believe. “you think i wanted to leave? you gave me no other option. i was forced to live in solitude, you made me completely dependent on you. my cage may have been gilded but it was a cage nonetheless.”

sunday was quiet after that. you didn’t like when he was quiet, because you couldn’t read his expression very well. he was taught to conceal his emotions from a young age, so you never knew what he thought about.

the silence continued as he leaned his head up to look at the ceiling in a contemplative manner. you didn’t think you’d get anything else out of him, and if you were being honest you felt a lot more at ease by speaking your truth already.

“if you have nothing else to say, i’ll leave now.” you looked at him expectingly.

he lowered his head and looked at you again, his golden eyes staring straight into you. “i feel no remorse for what i did, because i believe that i was just. i was trying to protect and help the people of penacony, i was trying to protect you. and yet you see me as the bad guy, so please, can you answer me a question before you go?”

you nodded hesitantly.

“did you ever love me?”

the words pierced your heart in a way you didn’t expect, because you didn’t know the answer yourself. your entire life was orchestrated by the family, your feelings were dictated as much as your schedule or your diet. you once loved sunday, but you didn’t know if these feelings were your feelings.

you shifted awkwardly on your feet, fidgeting again with your astral express badge. “there was a time where i loved you, but that version of me, wasn’t, well, very me. the person you know and the person i am today, are different people. i hope you understand that.”

his expression once again didn’t reveal any emotion, making you fidget once again.

“i should go now,” you blurted out, before taking a deep breath, “despite everything i do wish you well, sunday.”

for once in his captivity he smiled a little, “i wish you well too, reader. i truly hope that in another life we’ll see each other again.”

you smiled back at him, before stepping out of the room and closing the door. you spent the rest of your way to golden hour by contemplating your life with sunday, until you reached the golden clockie statue and spotted three familiar faces, dan heng, march 7th and the trailblazer.

“what are you guys doing here?” you asked as you walked up to them.

“mr. yang told us where you are and we couldn’t possibly go to the charmony festival without you,” march 7th said with her usual smile.

“how are you feeling?” dan heng asked, he could probably see the exhaustion and emotional turmoil on your face.

you put on a smile, “i’m managing. let’s head to the radiant feldspar, i promised robin to help with some preparations.”

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail #hsr sunday #sunday x you #sunday x reader

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years ago

Text

Spectre - Yandere!Wraith!Hyunjin

Yandere AU & Wraith AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Monologue

Pairing: Hyunjin X Implied Chubby!Reader

Words: 1,630

Warnings: Implied stalking and murder, talk of self-mutilation and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: This one is meant to be read as if he's talking directly to you. Think "Meant To Be Yours" from the musical Heathers, just less intense anger. Hehehe, I hope you like it! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Fifth of The Feral Drabbles

“Don’t be scared, Pretty. You know I would never hurt you.

Just let me in. Don’t you want me to take care of you?

Ignoring me won’t make me go away; you can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m attached to you now, whether you like it or not. Our bond can never be broken. You’re mine and I’m yours, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are never taken away from me again.

Pretty, why are you crying? You should be overjoyed! I’m not going to leave you ever again!

Oh, I get it! They’re tears of joy, aren’t they? You’re just as ecstatic as I am to know we’ll no longer be apart, and now with this newfound bond, I’ll be able to touch you! Isn’t that exciting?

I’ll be honest, Pretty, I’ve longed to know what your skin feels like beneath my fingertips. For too long my gentle brushes have simply passed right through you. I want to feel you pressed against me. I want to hold you in my arms both in the most innocent of ways, and also in the most intimate. I’ll finally be able to make you feel so good.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Now, I’ll no longer have to stand by and watch those others who have been ridiculously unworthy of you touch you. No one will ever lay their filthy hands on you again. No one but me is allowed to touch you.

I’d do anything you’d want. I’ll admit, when I still drew breath, I was quite a selfish lover, but I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’ve spent too long fantasizing about burying my face between those plush thighs of yours to not want to take my time with you, and indulge in every desire you’ve ever had. I’ve seen how frustrated the others always leave you, and I’ll make sure that you’re satisfied in every way I can.

All you have to do is let me in…

I already told you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to leave you alone. You mean too much to me.

Wait! I know! I’ll prove to you how well I know you! Then, you’ll have to let me in. Or maybe, I could try seducing you with my words? Would you like that, Pretty? For me to delve deeply into your soul and caress you with the romantic tenderness you have always craved to hear from your lovers?

I know my visage is usually meant to bring death and terror, but there is nothing more that I long to do than breathe into you the vibrance of life. You’re so beautiful, and you deserve only the best. You deserve someone to laugh at all of your corny jokes with. You deserve someone who will cherish you like you are the most delicate flower in the garden of the universe, of which you are. You deserve to be loved how you’ve always wanted, and I am more than willing to give that to you.

In fact, do you remember that day you were out with that- that- thing.

Forgive me, I dare not speak that bastard’s name. I honestly don’t know what you saw in him. He was a good for nothing, ugly, vile, piece of-

Sorry, Pretty. I guess I just got too carried away…

You can’t blame me. That’s just what you do to me. Picturing you with anyone else… well, I’m not a wraith for nothing.

Anyways, as I was saying, do you remember that day? How certain things started happening when he dared to get close to you?

Yes, that was me. I couldn’t stand the sight of him touching what’s mine. He never deserved you. Besides, you didn’t know what he was like when you weren’t around.

I took the liberty to follow him. I just had to know why you preferred his company, and seriously Pretty, you should have heard the shit he would talk about with his friends behind your back. It’s a shame someone seemed to pick them off one by one…

Yes, Pretty, that was also my doing. I couldn’t have scum walking this earth who could so easily disrespect My Pretty, now could I? Sometimes being what I am has its perks.

No, don’t cry harder! I promise I’ll never hurt you! I love you!

I- I- I don’t want you to be scared of me.

I know! Would hurting me make you feel better?

I mean, you locking me out like this already hurts me, but I’ll gladly let you do whatever you want to me. Now that we’re bonded, I’m susceptible to more things than before, but the regular stuff still works, too. Iron, salt, fire: pick your poison, I’ll suffer through it all. Though, if you’d prefer something more substantial, like a blade, I’ll gladly bleed for you. After all, only you can touch me now.

…Is it that surprising that I would want to bleed for you? After I already told you that I would do absolutely anything and everything for you?

Carve your fucking name into my skin. I don’t care. In fact, I’ll gladly do it for you.

Just please, won’t you let me in? I want to see your pretty face again; it’s been too long since I’ve last gazed upon you.

I don’t care if I appeared to you only an hour ago! It’s been too long!

You know, this isn’t how I pictured this going…

I won’t lie to you pretty, I had hoped we would be in the midst of making love right now.

It’s you who makes me so crazy, you know. You seriously have no idea what you do to me…

Long have I since desired to worship you. I mean, I already worship the very ground you walk on, but you’ve never seemed to notice. I honestly hated knowing how you thought those roses I always left for you every week were from that bastard.

Selfishly, I wanted to show up with those red flowers, litter your bed in their petals, and then make love to you like you’ve never been loved before. Until you were shaking from a single touch. Until you were dripping down my face from the amount of times I would make you come from my tongue alone. Until the only thing your hoarse voice could utter, the only thing that you could think of, would be my name.

Don’t you want me, too? I’ve been with you this whole time, but now that you can actually see me, you don’t-

It’s my appearance, isn’t it? I’m not desirable to you.

It’s okay, Pretty. I can handle the truth. You don’t find me attractive, do you? That’s why you’re so scared right now. You’re terrified of how I might react.

I can change, you know. I’ll change for you. Whatever you want from me, know that it’s yours. I’ll figure everything out, just as long as I get to have you in the end. You already own all of me, and you know I’m willing to give my everything for you.

I am a little shocked, though. I have always been told that I’m quite handsome, especially when I was alive, but I guess I don’t suit everyone’s tastes. Unfortunate that I only care about yours, but you don’t seem to desire my looks.

You’ve gone awfully silent all of a sudden. That means I’m right, doesn’t it? You aren’t attracted to me like I thought you would be.

Your breathing just picked up when you said that. Are you, perchance, lying?

Oh, Pretty, it’s okay. I’m so in tune with your body and your every reaction, I can tell when you’re being dishonest with yourself. I’m just happy to know that my theory is wrong. You do find me attractive, don’t you?

I’m all yours, Pretty. You know that? Everything that I am, belongs to you. I just want to take my time loving you, and getting to cherish you like you’ve always wanted. Like you’ve always deserved.

So, please, won’t you open the door?

What do you mean, ‘no’?

I’m getting tired of these games, Pretty. I’ve tried playing nice, but the way you’re hiding from me is getting on my every last nerve. I’ve already waited years for this moment, and now that it’s here, you’re pushing me away? I don’t think so.

I’ll give you five seconds, and if you don’t open this fucking door before the time is up, I will smash through it without a second thought. Even you can’t keep me away forever. I won’t let you.

One.

Two.

You’re really testing my patience, Pretty. You know that, right?

Three.

Four.

Five.

That’s it, I warned you. I’m coming in whether you like it or not.

Wait, why can’t I get through your door? Pretty, did you do something?

Answer me, Pretty.

Pretty…

I know you’re scared, Pretty, but just let me in. Open the door, and let me in. I’m starting to get really angry, and I would hate to have to do something that I might come to regret. You can’t hide from me forever.

I’m fucking done waiting for you. You’re mine, whether you like it or not. I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to bust this fucking door down and find you. I’ll drag you out of that room if I have to; you’re not going anywhere without me. You can’t. You better be prepared for that, Pretty.

After all, this salt line will only protect you for so long, and once I’m through… Once I’m through, I’ll make you feel my love. It’s the only thing my spirit still lives on to do.”

#yandere hyunjin #yandere stray kids #yandere kpop #stray kids drabble #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin smut #stray kids scenario #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz x reader #wraith au #kpop scenario #kpop smut #chubby reader

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deathbyyoongx · 1 year ago

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everytime; chapter 6 — myg

╭ chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ...

╭ word count: 5k

╭ summary: Everyone knew Min Yoongi as the guy who wouldn't say no to a nice pair of tits. His cocky attitude and stunning looks made it hard for most girls to resist. And even though you would like to say you're not like the others in that aspect, you unfortunately happened to be his ex. But even though you despised his guts for the last 3 years or so, he somehow managed to find himself a way between your legs on one semi-drunk night.

╭ pairing: fuckboy!yoongi x ex!reader

╭ genre: smut, angst, bit of fluff, more smut

╭ warnings: enemies to fwb, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, jealous ex!jungkook, bestfriend!jimin, hate sex, yoongi has a degrading kink but so does yn, brat taming, hair pulling, spitting, slapping, hickeys, choking, unprotected sex (STAY SAFE GUYS!), creampie, praise kink, hand kink, possessive yoongi, sexual content ofc, mentions of drinking, ...

╭ author's note: this fic is inspired by the song everytime by ariana grande. I also recommend using the chrome extension InteractiveFics for a better reading experience ;)

I'm sorry my dear readers it took so long. My life has been so busy this summer, but I'll finally have some free time soon. Not fully satisfied with this chapter, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3

08/09/2023

The inevitable happened. Jungkook was standing in front of your door, right here, right now. You knew ignoring him was a bad idea and this was bound to happen from the start if you kept avoiding him. It also didn’t help that he interrupted your little self-love session which involved you pleasuring yourself by the mere thought of Min Yoongi. You’ve become your greatest self-saboteur. You just kept rethinking that night you were at his house where you were too much of a pussy to make a move. The scenario of that morning where he was just on display for you, ready for you to get rid of his morning wood. But no, you didn’t dare. The words of Yoongi just echoed through your head. ‘You’re a lot of talk when you’re drunk, but sober you’re such a pussy.’ You hated the fact he was right. But, back to Jungkook, before you were getting even more worked up.

“Look, I wasn’t planning to come over,” Jungkook said with a pleading expression, looking very apologetic about the fact he was bothering you today, making you feel even worse about ignoring him. “But I had plans with Joon and since you live right next to him, I just wanted to check on you for a second.”

No matter what happened between you and Jungkook, you could never be mad at him. You’ve known him for some time now, and you just knew how sweet that boy was. Whenever you’d text him in need, there he was. Whenever you wanted advice, a hug, or just a good laugh, there he was in front of your door. And that’s why you couldn’t break his heart again. You just knew how disappointed and heartbroken he’d become if he’d known about your little affair with Yoongi. You didn’t owe him anything, you knew that. You also knew, that the longer you postponed telling him, the worse he’d react. But every time you wanted to tell him, your heart blocked you off. “That’s sweet Jungkook, I’m fine though.”

“You've been distant, I barely hear from you anymore. Did I do something wrong?” Suddenly, you felt really bad about ignoring Jungkook as soon as he asked that.

“I know and I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy lately.” Oh, and busy you were, but for all the wrong reasons.

“With the move probably?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t a lie, you have finally packed out all of your stuff, but it also wasn't the complete truth. But as long as you didn't lie, it didn't make you feel too bad. “Sorry if I made you think I forgot about you.”

“It's fine, u know I can't be mad at you.” Likewise. “Maybe I got too worked up over nothing.” Jungkook stayed quiet for a second. “If you want, I can ask Namjoon if you could join us. It has been a while since we’ve hung out.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Jungkook’s suggestion. “That's sweet, but I'm a bit tired.” And very horny cause you interrupted my little fantasy of Yoongi. “But I’ll text you to hang out as soon as possible, okay? I promise.” You held out your pinky finger to enhance your promise, waiting for him to link his with yours.

Jungkook smiled, teeth showing as well. You’ve been keeping promises like this ever since college. “Alright then.” He said while he linked his pinky with yours. “See you later.” After your wholesome goodbye with Jungkook, it was time to continue your sinful ‘fingerpainting’ session again if you wanted to function for the rest of the evening. Because, damn, did the idea of Yoongi drive you insane. But the moment you spread your legs again, that dreadful message of that girl popped back in your head, making you cancel all plans you had to finger yourself at the thought of that fuckboy. Remember that name Eunha? Yes, we all do. One thing led to another and now you were looking up her profile by searching through Yoongi’s followers. You hated her already. Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous, but you saw her feed was full of pictures of her and Yoongi. “Argh-“ You groaned out loud out of frustration. How could you compare to these beauties? You rarely felt insecure, but when it came to Yoongi? Damn, it’s as if confidence never crossed your path. The mere thought of Yoongi spending another night with another girl made you groan out loud out of resentment. You just kept telling yourself: ‘You know he’s a fuckboy, you shouldn’t obsess over this’. You were putting yourself in this situation. But the feeling of him wanting you just was too addictive. You couldn’t even differentiate the feeling of lust and love anymore around him. You just knew one thing for sure, you wanted him. That’s it. There was only one rational thing left to do now. Send him a nude. After some awkward posing half-naked in front of your full-body mirror, only wearing some black lace panties, you finally took a picture you were more than satisfied with. A proud smirk formed on your lips as you sent the picture to him with the caption ‘so long till Friday :(’.

Sent.

Where had your rational thinking gone whenever it came to Yoongi? You wouldn’t have done this for any other guy, but him? That man just made you do irrational things. You pulled on an oversized shirt as you just continued to scroll down Instagram, further stalking the girls that you saw tagged Yoongi in their posts. Not only the fact that there were other pretty girls that we’re fucking Yoongi was bothering you, but also the fact that it was so fucking many. This was just bound to happen. A hot successful single man in his twenties that loved to fuck around and was also good at fucking around? Of course girls would scurry to him like hungry rats. Maybe you shouldn’t think of those girls as rats, you bet they were lovely girls that, like you, couldn’t resist the charms of Mister Min Yoongi. This was your jealousy talking, but why were you so jealous…?

[21:06] Yoongi: Come over

The notification of Yoongi’s message popped up on your screen like a sign from above. You really wanted to come over, but you need to toy with him was even bigger. Plus, you were a bit irritated by scrolling through all those girls’ Instagram accounts, so no way in hell were you going to give in that easily.

[21:07] y/n: why would I head over to your house at this hour? It’s so dark out.

[21:07] Yoongi: you’re right

[21:08] Yoongi: on my way

Wait, what?!

Was he…really planning to come over? His text made you jump out of your seat and head as quickly as possible to the bathroom for a quick shower. You were all sweaty and stinky from work, no way that you could let him see or smell you like this. It took you an impressive 15 minutes to get ready, almost a new record. So there you were, casually sitting on your couch, acting as if you were not expecting anyone to ring the doorbell anytime soon.

Ding dong

An instantaneous smile formed on your lips, slapping yourself on the face to get rid of it as you jumped out of your seat. You gave yourself a last glance at the TV reflection, just to make sure you looked presentable. You fixed your hair and opened the front door, revealing a handsome-looking Yoongi, per usual. “Hi Yoon-” But the sudden feeling of his lips on yours interrupted your greeting.

He gently pushed you inside, closing the door behind him. “You’re such a tease.” He whispered in between kisses. His touch was gentle as if he was savouring every taste, this time not planning on another night of just talking. He deepened the kiss, his tongue gently teasing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. No time could be wasted as your desires had been suppressed by your cowardness last night. You needed him now. You led Yoongi to your bedroom, a trail of stumbling over one another as you just couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. It became apparent neither of you were planning to take it slow by the way you were tucking on each other’s clothing, desperate to take them off this instant. In a swift motion, Yoongi took off your shirt, making him smirk at the sight of those familiar black-laced panties. He pushed you onto the bed before taking off his shirt as well, revealing his lean body and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your eyes travelled from his face to his neck, chest, and abs until they stopped as his ever-growing erection that was desperately waiting to be released from his jeans. He noticed your staring, making him say. “This is all yours.”

He hovered over you, pushing you further on the bed as his lips followed yours. “My girl got needy for my cock, huh?”

“Just a cock, to be honest.” You were really not into the whole ‘I’m going to stroke his ego even further’, not because you didn’t want to necessarily, but because you were a whore for him putting you in your place.

“You say that, but I bet you only sent that picture to me, didn’t you?” You were quiet, which made your answer all too obvious. “That’s what I thought.” Yoongi pulled back for a second, taking his time to admire your body which he can’t seem to get enough of. The way the lingerie complimented your curves, looking too pretty to take off. “You never feel to amaze me, damn-” You felt your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, making him smirk out of satisfaction. “Getting shy, huh? That’s how I know my girl.” He whispered in a husky tone before his lips met your neck.

Yoongi’s lips on your neck made you shiver, holding onto his shoulders for support. “No hickeys please, I have to work tomorrow.”

His hands travelled towards your core, gently rubbing against the already wet cloth in a teasing manner. “I’ll try.” He said before kissing you again, feeling him smirk against your lips. “I’m almost flattered how worked up you get from me.” He moved the slip of your panty to the side, his fingers finding their way to your soaked entrance. He glided his middle finger between your folds, using your own wetness as lubrication as he gently applied pressure on your sweet spot. A small whimper left your lips as your hands tightened themselves around Yoongi’s upper arms, making you realize how buffed he had gotten over the years. His middle and index finger hugged around your clit, slowly and teasingly circling around it, making it hard for you not to slip out a few moans. While your eyes were closed as you felt yourself getting lost in the pleasure, Yoongi's, however, were fixed on you as if he were studying you. Adjusting his every move by the way you reacted to it, unconsciously remembering how you like it. The way his hardness was pressed against his jeans made it almost seem like it was going to tear any second now, but how couldn’t he? Seeing you desperate for his touch was one of his biggest turn-ons, but there was one small thing leaving him not fully satisfied. “You can be louder than that.” Yoongi whispered in your ear, the tone of his voice low with a slight rasp. “I want to hear you.”

“I have thin walls.” You let out, gasping for air due to you covering your mouth to keep yourself down.

“Namjoon will not care.” Yoongi purred as he increased his pace, making it even harder for you to control yourself. He knew your neighbour and mutual friend liked to mess around himself, but that wasn’t the problem…

“Jungkook’s visiting him.” You said without thinking twice., almost regretting it instantly after those words spilled from your mouth.

“Uhu.” He said sternly, removing his hand from your precious core as the air was getting filled with anticipation. “In that case.” Yoongi unbuckled his belt, pulling it off his waist in a swift motion. “Give me your hands.” Without putting much thought behind it, you did as you were told as you held your hands in front of you. With a firm grip, Yoongi grabbed your wrists and started wrapping his belt around it, tying your hands to the headboard of your bed. Oh no…His fingertips were brushing down at the side of your legs, finding his way back to your most intimate area, carefully sliding down your panties. He felt empowered by your arousal, your cunt glistening from excitement. His lips followed suit, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your thighs before his tongue traced the slit of your hole. A small quiver left your lips as he pressed just the right amount of pressure on your clit, followed by short flicks. The world around you faded away as Yoongi focused solely on your pleasure, and you could tell he was trying to make a point by touching you with slow and teasing movements, making it hard for you not to whine out of sheer desperation.

“Yoongi, please-” You softly moaned, feeling rather unsatisfied by the minimum fulfillment he was giving you. Yoongi, however, did not make a sound as he continued teasing you. Every time you expected him to apply more pressure or increase the pace, he pulled his tongue back, and it almost felt as if you could feel his smirk against you. Due to Yoongi’s solution to make you unable to muffle your moans, the silence of the room was getting filled by your desperation. A whimper, a moan, and eventually a cuss in a mixture of Yoongi’s name slipped your lips. “Fuck-” The pleasure intensified, building an undeniable tension that hung in the air, aching to be released. Slow but surely, Yoongi did give in to your needs, making you want to grab onto the bed sheets but being unable to. The way his tongue rolled on your sensitive nub, not only added to your pleasure but made his even more desperate. You became a moaning frustrated mess, every flick of Yoongi’s tongue feeling like a tease. “Just make me come, please-” You cried, hopelessly waiting for your sweet release. “Please-” Tears from desperation rolled down your face in a mix with your mascara, a sight Yoongi loved to see.

Yoongi sat back up straight, wiping your wetness from his underlip. He looked at you with full earnestness, smirking at the state of your body out of amusement, a hint of sadism in his eyes. “Beg for it, tell me how much you want it.” He said in full seriousness, his eyes shimmering with pure lust and desire. His fingers were tracing the entrance from your folds, gently applying pleasure at the most sacred part. “Loud enough for me to hear it.” He smirked again.

“Yoongi-ah-“ He took your clit between his fingers again, using a quick circular motion to receive a reaction from you. “Please, please, please-” smirking at the tears mixed with your mascara rolling down your face. “I need you to make me come. You can do whatever you want with me, but just make me come.” With every move, you felt yourself growing closer, letting out another loud whine as he abruptly removed his fingers from you. You watched Yoongi lick his fingers as if you were a delicacy before he started unzipping his jeans for his own comfort. “Yoongi-” You called, rubbing your legs together to feel some sort of release.

After Yoongi took his jeans off, his boxers were the only thing away from revealing himself. “I know baby, I know.” He placed his hands on your thighs again, spreading your legs again, preventing you from continuing to self-pleasure yourself. “Does my girl want to cum?” Yoongi’s fingers softly caressed your slit, driving you even more horny and insane. A moan that sounded like a yes left your lips. “Hmh?” He teased as his fingers left again.

Feeling the absence of Yoongi’s touch was what drove you to sheer and utter desperation. “My fucking god-yes! Please, Yoongi, let me cum. I need you so badly right now.” You cried, more tears leaving your eyes. The louder your pleads got, the more satisfied he was. “Yoongi please-”

Yoongi let out an amused chuckle. “Look how desperate you are for me. What would your friends think if they heard you like this? Especially the neighbours.” He said, sure to emphasize that last part.

“I don’t care anymore, I just need you.”

“Good.” Yoongi placed your legs on his shoulders, keeping your thighs in a steady distance, his grip making it unable for you to move. His tongue tracing, what felt like love letters, on your aching clit, every flick driving you closer to your orgasm. After all that teasing, it didn’t take long for you to get there, feeling the knot in your lower body growing stronger.

“Yes, yes, oh my fuck-yes!” With an arched back and trembling legs, you finally reached your long-postponed climax, which was more intense than your body seemed to handle. And it felt as if you could feel it until the tips of your fingers, leaving your body in exhaustion. “Fuck Yoongi-“ You heavily panted, feeling his tongue still on your clit. “I’m too sensitive.” You whimpered, making him pull away.

“Awe, are you now?” He said with fake pity.

“Uhu.” You pleaded.

“Was it a bit too intense for my girl?” He asked, making you hum another ‘uhu’. “Poor thing.” He leaned in to kiss you, feeling his hand going near your back to take your bra off. “I want to see all of you.”

As you were catching your breath, heavily panting, you watched him take his briefs off which were covered in precum. “You’re doing so good, baby. Do you want the rest?” Was Yoongi’s way of asking for further consent, giving his dick a few slow strokes as he looked at you. You eagerly nodded your head, making him grin. “Of course you do.” Before he fully entered you, he traced the slit of your entrance with the tip of his dick, teasing himself before he slowly pushed himself inside of you. A drawn-out moan left his lips by the way your walls tightly hugged around him, a soft cuss slipping in between. He slowly and slightly pulled out of you, his cock glistening with the coat of your fluids around him. “I’ve missed you.” He groaned before thrusting in and out of you again. He was going rather slow as if he was savouring every thrust. “My pretty girl.” His hands were on your thighs, keeping your legs up for maximum access. You wanted to hold onto him, digging your nails into his back as your personal mark on him, but his personal handcuffs made that not an option. His thumb found your clit again, making your walls clench around him as he wanted to make you cum again. “Shit-”

“I want to touch you, please Yoongi.” You pleaded as you were tucking on your personal prison.

Heavy breaths left Yoongi’s lips. “Hmh, do you know?” He teased, that menacing smirk plastered on his face again. He slowly slid himself fully into you and you were pretty sure you could feel his tip touching the entrance of your cervix. “Shit-” After that, Yoongi increased his pace and you could already feel your legs shake. Hearing your moans as he filled you up was music to his ears. “And risking you covering your mouth again? No way. I want to hear my girl.” You wanted to tell him you’ll be a good girl and won’t do that, but he upped the pace again, making it hard for you to speak in general. Your tits were bouncing heavily on your chest, which was a beautiful sight to see for Yoongi. He quickly combed his hand through his hair, preventing his hair from blocking the sight he had in front of him. Sweat drops were forming on his forehead, making his hair damp but, fuck, did he look hot right now. Even though Yoongi was mostly focused on his pleasure as he thrust in and out of you, he made sure not to forget about you by the way his thumb was rubbing against your clit, feeling your walls clench around him as you were getting closer to your climax. Your moans were only getting louder, and in the back of your head, you knew you were going to have to explain yourself to your neighbour and friend tomorrow. “I want to feel you cum around my dick.” Yoongi groaned, his rasp indicating he was almost there. He slowed down the pace, focusing more on his finger work so you would get another round of pleasure.

“Oh god-“ You moaned as you felt another wave of ecstasy waiting for you. “Yes, yes-“ It felt as if his thumb was vibrating against your clit, your mind not fully comprehending how the fuck he did that. “I’m gonna-” But instead of the words, the loud moan that left your lips and the way your walls clenched around him, made it clear you reached your peak, making Yoongi increase his paste of fucking you.

The mixture of his postponed climax as protection of his ego and the sounds you were making, made him only seconds away of coming undone. To your surprise, he slid himself out of you, stroking himself down until you felt his cum on you, painting your whole body with it. A loud groan left his throat, head thrown back in pleasure. He stopped jerking himself off, taking a few deep breaths before looking back at you, staring like you were a masterwork. “My favourite looks so beautiful.” He smirked, kissing you softly before untying you. Your wrist hurt from the tightness of his belt, but for some reason, you really didn’t seem to mind. “Let me clean you up first.” Before Yoongi got up to go to the bathroom, he gave you one last kiss on the lips, taking his time before parting lips. You watch him leave the room, quickly finding his way to your bathroom as if he has been here before. You couldn’t sit up straight without making a mess since, yeah, you were covered in cum. It was almost impressive. Yoongi quickly came back, placing himself between your legs again for easy access. He was holding a wet towel, and when he was wiping away his hard work, you noticed he made it lukewarm just for your comfort. As he got you clean again, he leaned in to kiss you again, kissing your neck before kissing your lips. He gently cupped your face in the palm of his hand, looking at you with those beautiful brown eyes as he parted his lips with yours. “You did so good.” He whispered softly, his thumb slightly caressing your cheek.

You placed your hand on his and for some reason, your heart felt heavy. “Please stay the night.” You said with pleading eyes, making Yoongi smile softly at you.

“I had no intention of doing anything else.” He removed himself from the bed, grabbing his briefs again. “You want to wear my T-shirt?” He smiled as he put back his underwear, knowing how much you loved to sleep in them. You happily nodded, putting it on as soon as he handed it to you. Before Yoongi placed himself back next to you, he couldn’t help but notice the wall of pictures on one of y our bedroom walls. And the longer he started down that wall of pictures, the longer he kept staring at one photo in particular. “You still have that picture of us.”

You looked away from Yoongi for a second, even though you knew exactly what photo he was talking about. “Yeah, I do.” It was a selfie you had taken with him, back when the two of you were 17. You could tell you were young by the way you two looked. It just happened to be one of your favourite photos of all time. Not because of quality or how aesthetically pleasing the picture looked, but because it just locked many memories. The most beautiful memories with Yoongi to be exact. That’s when you reminisced about the time with him again. Him waiting after classes so he could walk home with you. He asked if he could do his homework at your place, even though you two did everything besides homework. And just the way he used to love you was so gentle and loving, nothing like he was now. You were his and his only. “It’s one of my favourites, actually.” You just felt a need to say that.

“One of your favourite pictures is one where I’m in the frame?” He teased as he got back in bed with you, pulling you by the waist to have you close to him. He didn’t ask because he thought you were weird for calling a photo with your ex ‘one of your favourites’, but rather out of reassurance that it really was your favourite, even though he was in it.

“Yes, it was before you were a dick” You chuckled, even though you didn’t really mean it. “I have a lot of good memories linked to you, you know. They’re not all bad.” You explained, the tone in your voice slightly saddening as memories and emotions of your breakup entered your head. “Besides, you were my favourite at some point, so it’s not that weird.” That’s when Yoongi’s words from before echoed through your head again. ‘My favourite looks beautiful’ Did he really mean that or was it just a heat of the moment kind of thing?

It was one of the few moments where Yoongi was the one who seemed to want to say something but stayed quiet instead. He seemed…conflicted. There was a brief moment when he looked happy, but then a hint of sadness waved over it. You couldn’t read his emotions and it made you frustrated. “Likewise.” That was all he said, but you knew Yoongi well enough to know that there was more on his mind.

When you woke up the next morning, a lack of a presence beside you made you wake up quicker than usual. After a few blinks, you noticed Yoongi wasn’t lying beside you. You felt your heartache, unknown why he wasn’t there. Your mind went to start thinking of the worst again, but before you could fully feel your heartbreak, you saw a little note on your bedside table. “Had an important meeting. Sorry, I couldn’t stay.” All your worries were suddenly washed over as you read the last sentence. “See you soon though :]” You felt like a teen again by the way you got so excited over a written note, making you put it in your drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. Besides Yoongi’s scent lingering throughout your apartment, you noticed an unfamiliar object lying neatly on your bedside table as well. And that’s when you realized…

Those were the panties you had lost at Hoseok’s party.

Rarely enough, you decided to have your lunch break with Jia. Usually, you would make some lame ass excuse as to why you couldn’t have your break together with her, avoiding any opportunity she could have to talk about Yoongi’s dick again. But today, you felt brave, agreeing you would eat together, making her ecstatic. “Please y/n?! You have to come!” Jia has been desperately trying to convince you to come clubbing with her for the last half hour or so. Guilt brews inside your gut as she’s unknown to the idea of Yoongi and you. How would she even react? She couldn’t be that mad since half of her friends have been sharing him. And the more you started to think about it, the more disturbed you were about that thought. “I bet you’ll love it.”

You doubted that. You enjoyed going home after a long work shift, but she does seem very persistent. Maybe you should go. “Alright…you convinced me.”

“Ugh, finally! You’ll have a great time, I promise! You can even bring your boo Jungkook” She teased before taking a big bite of your lunch, continuing to speak with a full mouth after that.

“Don’t say that-“

“If you don’t want him I sure wouldn’t mind taking a bite of that”

Jesus.

“I’ll ask him.” You smiled, making Jia hug you out of sheer happiness. You felt bad again. You knew Jia liked you, but all you could think about was Yoongi doing the things he did with you yesterday with her. It made you grow resentful towards her, even though she didn’t do anything wrong. You thought maybe, tomorrow, you wouldn’t feel like that anymore. You could see her in another light if it was just you and her and maybe some of her friends. Those friends who probably have had sex with Yoongi too though…No! You were not going to think like this! No man was going to ruin the beautiful opportunity of two women becoming friends. Especially a fuckboy like Yoongi. For a short while you thought you were above casual hookups, but lately you’ve been taking that thought into question.

Before your break was over, you texted the idea to Jungkook, hoping he’d say yes because no way were you going to survive that night without a familiar face. To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t against the idea of clubbing with you after you texted him. On the contrary, he seemed to be really excited about it, telling you he has always wanted to do something like that with you. This makes you think there must be some underlying motivation for his answer.

Or maybe you were just overthinking it?

Taglist; @flowerblu00, @brinda-9, @seokjinkismet, @sugainmybowl, @mxxxnshine @arianalilyblack

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zepskies · 2 years ago

Text

Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: Did I say two parts? I meant three lol. (It got too long, I’m sorry.)

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, supernatural shenanigans, death…

Bonus Track #2: One Last Hunt

“Okay, try not to panic,” Sam said. Dean had him on the phone while he sped through town in the Impala.

“I’m coming now, but I won’t get there for a few hours,” Sam said. “My flight leaves in 20 minutes.”

“Thanks, man, but I can’t afford to wait,” Dean said. “She fucking disappeared. I don’t see her anywhere…I’m gonna have to start at her job. That’s where she first took off from.”

“How did she seem this morning?”

“Fine, I guess. I left before she woke up,” Dean said. He still felt guilty about the fact that he didn’t bother waking you up to say goodbye.

“Okay, yeah, start at the museum,” Sam said. “Let me know what you find, and I’d loop in Bobby. Probably Jack too.”

“Bobby’s meeting me there…but we don’t need to bring in Jack yet.”

“Dean, he’s her dad—”

“This isn’t his thing. It’s ours,” Dean said firmly. “If it’s a demon, I’m gonna find her and exorcize that son of a bitch.”

Sure enough, Bobby met Dean at the museum where you worked. The old man was worried, Dean could tell, even if he wouldn’t say it. But he knew the drill: now they had a job to do.

“I’ll go in first, flash my badge,” Dean said. “Meet me in the library.”

��Roger that,” Bobby agreed.

Dean had a decent rapport with your boss, Jerry. When he explained that you were actually missing, Jerry was concerned for your wellbeing instead of irate that you’d taken a very valuable book from the museum.

It gave Dean a theory to lie about on the fly: that you’d been mugged and taken hostage, presumably by someone who might’ve wanted to steal the ancient text.

“How ancient are we talking exactly?” Dean asked.

Jerry gave him a look. “Ancient Egypt.”

He showed you the inventory log on the new shipment you were supposed to compile into the system. The title missing from the rest was called The Eye of Ra.

“All right. Thanks, Jerry,” Dean said. “Anything else you can tell me about this book?”

“It’s a recording of the great deeds of the Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses,” Jerry explained. “It was said to be touched by Ra himself.”

Touched by Ra, Dean mused. Ain’t that just fucking swell.

Whatever happened to you, Dean knew it was because you touched that book.

For the next few hours, Dean and Bobby worked together on deeper research in the library. Now that they had a starting point, Bobby was able to find some intel.

“The Eye of Ra was actually a nickname,” he said, earning Dean’s attention. “For Sekhmet, their goddess of war.”

Dean’s brows furrowed at that. “Why’s it never the goddess of peace and fucking tranquility?”

“Among other things, she was the daughter of Ra,” Bobby said, raising a wry brow. “And she was known as the bringer of plagues and death…and sometimes healing. Go figure.”

Fucking hell, Dean thought sourly. This was getting worse by the minute.

“Okay, what does this have to do with the book?” he asked. Though he had some idea.

“Well, she ain’t been alive in a millennium. But she had a husband. The god Ptah, a craftsman,” Bobby said. “According to this, when he was eventually killed, she sealed her soul away until she could find a way to rescue him from the underworld…I’ve gotta think she sealed it in that book.”

Dean sighed, rubbing the now aching spot between his brows. An ancient Egyptian goddess was most likely possessing his fiancé.

And it was much worse than it sounded on paper.

“Okay, which means she’ll be looking for a way to bring back her husband,” he said. “So how do we find her?”

Just then, the police radio buckled to Dean’s belt sounded off. When he listened closely, his eyes grew wide. It was a report of five murders committed at a nearby gas station.

Dean pulled up to the local 7-Eleven. Bobby was on the way, but he’d been caught up in traffic while Dean was allowed to use his police siren to his advantage.

He then used his badge clearance to get behind the yellow tape and over to Jack, who was still on duty.

Dean stepped inside the gas station and surveyed the brutal scene: the nice old man who owned the place, plus four patrons were lying dead.

Their skin was covered with boils.

Jack wore a disconcerted frown along with his crossed arms in his police jacket.

“It’s almost…biblical,” he remarked.

Dean knew just how right he was. Jack seemed to know that too when he glanced over.

“Is this your kind of thing?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “I might know what’s going on here. Let’s check the security footage…but no one else can see it but you and me.”

Jack nodded, leading Dean to the back of the store. Jack was shocked by what he found in the footage. Dean watched grimly, but not surprised as you came into the frame. You tilted your head at the owner, who seemed to ask you something.

You raised a hand, and with a flare of magic, everyone in the station was cowering and screaming as a plague of boils covered their bodies, and eventually ended their lives.

“Christ,” Jack gasped. “What the hell—”

“It’s not her,” Dean told him. “She’s being possessed. I’ll handle this, Jack. Just make sure this footage gets buried, along with whatever prints she might’ve left behind.”

Jack barely had time to agree. As if that kind of thing was so easy. He called after Dean as he took off out of the station.

Dean didn’t see Bobby yet when he got outside, but he didn’t have time to wait.

However, he did spot someone familiar hanging out in front of the department store across the street. Dean jogged across and raised a hand to flag down Jessie Deluca.

The kid was gnawing on what looked like a melting Butterfinger. He groaned in annoyance when he saw Dean coming.

“Not you again,” he muttered.

“Yeah, me again,” Dean said. “You been standing out here long?”

“Look, grandpa. I’m just chillin’ here,” the kid sassed. It sparked Dean’s irritation, as well as his impatience.

“I don’t give two shits if you’re contemplating the great Butterfinger Heist of 2008, all right?” Dean pointed back to the gas station. “You see that?”

Jessie’s expression faded from some of its assholeness, becoming more solemn. “Yeah, I heard someone died or something.”

“That’s right,” Dean nodded. “Did you see anyone walk out of the station?”

“No,” Jessie said. But Dean could tell it was a reflex, not the truth.

“Listen, Jessie. I need your help,” he said, more earnestly. “I’m trying to find someone. So if you know anything, I need you to tell me right now. Please.”

Dean stared down in the kid’s brown eyes. Eventually, Jessie relented.

“When I came out of the store here, I saw some business lady walk out. I think, after it had all just gone down,” Jessie confessed. “She looked fine.”

Dean sighed and nodded. “Okay. What’d she look like?”

“Uh…black skirt. Great legs,” Jessie said, his lips curving a little. Dean raised a brow.

“Anything else?” he asked wryly.

“White blouse, heels…actually, she kinda looked familiar,” Jessie added as he thought harder about it.

“Good. Now tell me what direction she went in,” Dean said. Jessie nodded and pointed him down the street.

“I think she went down there. I saw her turn the corner.”

“Where? What street?”

“Dude, I don’t know!”

“Then show me,” Dean insisted. He grabbed Jessie by the shoulder and guided him forward. The kid looked annoyed, but he begrudgingly agreed to lead him down the street. The two of them walked brusquely, with Jessie trying to match Dean’s longer strides.

Dean glanced over at his companion, who was still working on his Butterfinger.

“When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t covered in chocolate?” he asked. Jessie didn’t look at him when he shrugged. His winter jacket hung off his skinny shoulders, making him look ten rather than thirteen. Dean’s heart twinged.

“Listen, next time you’re itching to knock over a department store for KitKats, come by the station,” Dean said. “Find me or my partner Jody Mills. Or even my boss, Jack. We’ll get you a burger or something.”

Jessie briefly looked up at him, but all too soon, his gaze returned to the ground.

“What do you care?” he said.

“Maybe I know something about having to fend for yourself,” said Dean. “Sometimes going hungry, not knowing when somebody’s gonna come back for you.”

Jessie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, but Dean hoped he’d gotten through to him.

Jessie led him around the corner at the street he thought he saw you turn down. He and Dean didn’t have to walk too much farther before he found you through the window of a bakery, of all things.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered.

He pulled Jessie to the wall by the window for safety, but both of them snuck a peek inside.

You were once again wielding magic to spread a plague of boils across an entire room of screaming, agonized patrons just trying to get their donuts and cream pies.

Jessie started to utter a cry of alarm, but Dean quickly covered the kid’s mouth with his hand and pulled him back to his side. Dean waited, stock still, until the screaming inside the bakery subsided.

He looked down at Jessie and raised a finger to his lips. Though he was scared, Jessie nodded. Dean led him around the corner into an alley beside the bakery.

“What…the fuck was that?” Jessie hissed.

“Keep your voice down,” Dean warned.

Then suddenly, it donned on the kid as he looked up at Dean. “Oh, shit. That’s your freakin’ girlfriend.”

Dean let out a sharp sigh. “It’s not her…exactly.”

He knew Jessie didn’t understand. Dean sighed again and grasped Jessie’s shoulders.

“Look, you’re right to be scared. There’s something evil in there…that’s why I’ve gotta save her,” he said. “Now you, you’re gonna run. And don’t look back until you’re home, got it?”

After a moment, Jessie nodded shakily. Dean nodded back, patting him firmly on his shoulders.

“Good man,” he said. “Okay, scram.”

Jessie seemed reluctant, like he felt some type of way about leaving Dean behind. But at Dean’s encouraging look, Jessie took off running. Dean hoped he headed straight home.

Then, rolling his shoulders, Dean braced himself. He drew his gun, which was filled with silver bullets. He didn’t think it would work on an Egyptian goddess, nor did he want to pull a gun on you. But for the threat of it alone, he would have to draw it with the safety on.

He entered the bakery, where you were perusing the selections with a dispassionate look. All around you was death.

But you perked up when Dean entered, eyeing him curiously in recognition.

“Feelin’ a snack?” he asked.

“I have been asleep for a very long time,” you replied, holding up a pastry. “What is this confection?”

“Cherry Danish,” Dean supplied. “You’re Sekhmet, right?”

Your lips twitched. “You know of me?”

“I do now,” he said, carefully stepping further into the bakery with his gun pointed down, avoiding stepping on the bodies. He noticed the book you left closed on the counter. The goddess saw him noticing. Her gaze cut to him in amusement.

“Why’d you kill these people?” Dean asked. “Didn’t bow down at the right angle?”

“Among all of my brothers and sisters, I alone was favored by my father,” she said, “because my job was to balance the world, between life and the afterlife.”

Sekhmet brushed her fingers against a glass case, and with a small spark of magic, the glass cracked into thousands of fractals, but didn’t shatter.

“And I did exceedingly well at this,” she said. “Though I see that my work has been undone. This world is rife with imbalance.”

“Mass genocide. Nice,” Dean quipped. “But that’s not all you want, is it?”

Sekhmet’s head tilted at him with reluctant interest.

“I heard you’re looking for your husband, who went an offed himself,” he added.

The goddess’s lips pursed and she slapped a hand on the glass counter, making it shatter. Dean turned and shielded his eyes with his arm. By the time he recovered, Sekhmet was coming around the counter. He took a few cautious steps in the opposite direction.

“My husband was unjustly slain by the very people who once worshipped us in droves,” she said, her tone exacting and harsh. Her eyes, however, were heavy with fury and pain.

“He was an artist. A creator in purest form…his talents were wasted on this abomination of a world,” she said, with disgust at her surroundings. But as soon as her anger came, it diffused into exasperation.

She picked up a glazed donut and took a bite, crossing her arms. She hummed in delight, making Dean’s brows raise.

“Well, I can help you find him,” Dean said. It was a bluff, to be sure, but it still earned Sekhmet’s attention.

“Can you?” she asked in amusement. She didn’t believe him. Yet. But she drew closer to Dean, tilting her head just so. All the while, Dean inched towards the far end of the counter where The Eye of Ra had fallen to the ground.

“And after, you let my girl go,” he said.

“You know of a way to reach the Underworld?” Sekhmet’s gaze roamed over him in disdain. “Unlikely.”

“Well, I’d call it a gate to Hell. But same difference, right?” Dean quipped.

The second he tried to reach down for the book, however, Sekhmet pinned him in place with a vibrant amber coil of magic. Dean grunted as she forced him to the ground, onto his knees between the bodies of a young man and woman, likely a couple.

The goddess stopped in front of him, looking down at his face with interest.

“Dean Winchester, as you are called. I understand why you continue to display such reckless judgment, all but throwing your very life at my feet,” she said. Her lips curved knowingly. “I hold your lover, correct?”

She harshly grabbed his cheek in her hand, and Dean glared in response. She seemed to ponder something as she considered him.

“Soon to be your wife,” she realized.

And Dean had a feeling she was in your head, sorting through your thoughts and memories like any demon would. He didn’t know what was worse: the thought of you being awake in there, unable to fight this bitch’s hold, or if Sekhmet had completely taken over your body and shut you away.

“Just let her go,” Dean said, almost pleading. “You can have me. I won’t even fight you.”

“Such self-sacrifice,” she said. “The only noble act humans are capable of.”

Before she could decide whether to kill him, or keep him for further amusement, the front door of the bakery swung open.

Bobby came in first, followed closely by Sam and Eileen.

Bobby was holding a damn crossbow, which he aimed and shot off at Sekhmet. It was a warning shot, just grazing her shoulder. But it burned her with a sting of flesh that made her hiss in pain. She glared up at Bobby, and after grabbing the book before Sam could, she disappeared in a whirlwind of magic.

The coil holding Dean in place shattered, allowing Dean to catch his break and get to his feet, with Sam’s help. Dean had to admit, it was good to see his brother.

“You okay?” Sam asked. Dean reached over and pat the other man’s shoulder.

“I’m good,” he said, though with a sigh that belied his weariness. “Hey, Eileen. Thanks for making it to the party.”

The pretty brunette offered him a sympathetic smile, rubbing his arm. “We came as soon as we could.”

Dean nodded and turned to Bobby, who still held his crossbow. He wasn’t happy about the old man shooting at you, but he recognized that it had saved his life.

“Why’d that thing hurt her?” he asked.

“The arrow’s dipped in a potent mix of salt from the Dead Sea…and Egyptian wine, among other things,” Bobby replied.

Dean frowned in confusion. “Why the fuck?”

“According to the lore, Sekhmet could be subdued with alcohol,” Sam explained.

“Great, we’ll just get her drunk and all our problems will be solved,” Dean quipped dryly. He grabbed the radio from his belt. His gaze returned to the dead bodies on the floor with dismay.

“I’ve gotta call this in. Bobby, get the security tapes.”

After Dean finished calling in the deaths to his precinct, he shared a disheartened look with Sam, who grasped his shoulder in support.

“We’re gonna find her, all right?”

They regrouped at Bobby’s house once Jack took over at the bakery. Now the three men and Eileen were congregated in the living room, trying to decide on their next move.

“You told her about the Hell gate?!” Sam said incredulously.

“Damn it, Dean!” Bobby slapped the coffee table in exasperation.

“All right, lay off! I was improvising under fucking duress,” Dean snapped. “At least we know where she’ll probably go next, assuming she finds out where the gate is.”

“She’s a goddess, Dean. One of the oldest and most powerful in ancient history. I’m sure she can figure it out,” Sam said, rubbing at his tired eyes.

And, as Dean remembered, Sekhmet was rooting around in your head. She’d find the gate for sure.

Eileen looked between the brothers, clearly worried. Sam had told her about what you, him, and Dean had gone through to close that damn gate to Hell last year.

“So how do we stop her?” Dean asked. Without hurting you, was implicit. Bobby heaved a sigh.

“We gotta burn that damn book,” Bobby said. “But we’ll need to be smart about it.”

So that was how the four of them ended up driving to southern Wyoming. They stopped along the crossroads by the train tracks, and ventured in on foot into the very clearing where their final battle against Yellow Eyes took place.

Dean thought he’d be able to put his past behind him, but the universe clearly liked to kick him in the balls.

Evidence of this came when he saw you standing at Samuel Colt’s gravestone. Or rather, the goddess Sekhmet.

She was expending large forces of magic to try and open up the gate to Hell. The book that bound her soul lied on top of a nearby headstone.

Dean gestured for Sam, Eileen, and Bobby to hang back and fan out, while he stalked forward. He’d changed out of his police uniform in favor of his familiar jeans, shirt, and a red plaid shirt, hoping that at least would help you focus on him, wherever you were deep inside your mind.

But he called out to Sekhmet from a (relatively) safe distance away.

“Are you stupid or something?” he mocked.

Sekhmet paused in her magic wielding. She craned her head over her shoulder at him in annoyance, with amber rings illuminating her eyes.

“There’s only one thing that can open up that gate, and I’ve got it right here,” said Dean.

He pulled out the Colt from behind his back.

Sekhmet’s gaze narrowed on the gun, then at Dean with a slow smirk.

“Why, by the gods, should I trust your foolishness?” she asked.

“Because we’re about to make a trade,” Dean said. “The gun for my girl. You let her go, or you’ll never see your husband again. In this world, or the next.”

Dean pointed the gun at her and cocked the safety back. She didn’t have to know the barrel was empty.

“You cannot harm me, even if there was ammunition in that weapon,” Sekhmet replied knowingly.

She turned to him and reached out with a magic-fueled hand, but before she could grab Dean, Sam shot his own gun.

It deployed a net of rope that twined around her frame and held her in place. It was soaked with the same concoction Bobby shot her with in the bakery, and it made her fume with outrage.

It didn’t completely weaken her though. Her hands were still free to fling Sam and Bobby away from her with magic.

She then turned to grip Eileen, who was nearly able to steal the book. And the goddess sent Eileen across the clearing, breaking a headstone as she fell.

Sam had been trying to pick himself up from the ground, but he gripped at his chest, feeling his soulmate’s pain. He scrambled over to her prone form on the ground and checked the cut along her hairline.

“Eileen,” Sam called, pressing his hand to her cheek. He had one eye on her, and another on his brother.

Because meanwhile, Sekhmet had broken free of the ropes holding her captive with a cry of fury.

Just in time to grab Dean by the throat when he tried to surprise her from behind. She forced him down to his knees and smirked in satisfaction as Dean struggled against her hold.

He called your name, trying to reach you through the goddess’s hold on your mind.

“She is gone from this world,” Sekhmet taunted. “This is but a vessel for my eternal soul.”

“I don’t fucking believe that,” Dean choked. “If she was gone, I’d know it. Deep in my bones I’d know it.”

Her mouth twitched, but she seemed to enjoy the idea of slowly choking him to death. Or maybe, something was holding her back. Dean could only hope it was you, trying to break through.

He looked into your eyes and tried to find you through the cold disdain of a goddess.

“Whatever happens, I’m not letting go,” he gritted out. He held tight to your wrist, on the hand wrapped around his throat.

“I love you, you know that?” he said. “From the start…you closed the door in my face when I tried to kiss you. Teased me. Never took my shit. But you never left me either. No matter how hard it fucking got, you kept my feet on the ground. You never called it quits…‘cause we never say goodbye. Right, baby?”

Slowly, slowly, Sekhmet’s hard exterior faded. The amber rings of magic receded from your eyes, and the woman he loved was there again, softening your face into shock and horror.

You released your grip on Dean. He stumbled to the ground as he coughed and gasped for precious oxygen.

He straightened enough to grab your hand. You reached out for him instinctively.

“Dean,” you said with shaking effort.

“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart,” he said. He turned back to see his brother helping Eileen to her feet. “Sam, the damn book!”

Sam snapped to attention and quickly looked for The Eye of Ra. It had been knocked over from the headstone onto the ground. He grabbed it and fished out a lighter from his pocket.

Dean’s attention turned back to you when you squeezed his hands.

“I can’t hold her for long,” you said tremulously. Your whole body was shaking. “She’s so damn strong…”

“It’s okay, we’re gonna fix this,” Dean said, brushing your hair back from your face.

You closed your eyes and gasped. But when you opened them once again, they were hard, and glowing with magic.

Sekhmet tossed Sam away from the headstone.

Dean tried to hold her back, but she backhanded him hard. Sekhmet followed where he fell. She reached out and gripped him by the neck again, this time choking him with a vengeance.

But then she gasped, as if in pain. She turned her head and found Sam with the book in one hand, and a lit match in the other. As the book started to burn, Sekhmet weakened.

Dean caught her before your body could hit the ground.

Sekhmet released a shaking breath; she gazed into the dimming sky, painted in its golden, amber hues, and knew that her soul was dying. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks.

Dean almost felt sorry for her. Or maybe it was the sight of your pained, weeping face that tugged at his heartstrings.

“You’ll just have to join your husband this time,” he said.

Sekhmet’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “This world was never made for us…but we shall soon be together for all eternity.”

She looked up at him with a rueful smile.

“You understand,” she said. “A soul bond can never be destroyed.”

And with that, the haze of magic drained from your eyes as your body went limp.

Dean’s brows furrowed with worry as he called your name. Behind him, Sam helped Eileen draw near with a limping Bobby. All three watched with worry at Dean’s side…until your eyes opened, revealing their natural hue.

You took in a tremulous breath. “Dean.”

His eyes burned with emotion, but he closed them as he held you tight. All he could do was press his lips against your forehead in relief.

You clung to him right back, for as long as you needed to.

AN: Fun fact — According to Egyptian mythology, the only thing that could stop the goddess Sekhmet from ending humanity with bloodshed was by getting her drunk on beer, which had been dyed red to simulate blood (which she also liked to drink, apparently).

Egyptians (the survivors) would drink beer mixed with pomegranate juice and get drunk to celebrate not being killed dead. (Woo!)

Anyway, let me know if you enjoyed Part 2! All the fluff is coming in the finale of Part 3, very soon…

Next Time:

Dean brings you home. The two of you figure out how to move on from here...

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aemondsbeloved · 2 years ago

Text

From The Tides [Part 5]

summary: as you do your best to avoid Aemond Targaryen, you realize you cannot avoid everyone in the castle you distrust. To your dismay a tourney is announced and your luck with avoiding the silver hair prince runs out (8k)

pairings: aemond targaryen x reader, (platonic) lucerys velaryon x reader

warnings: none except Aemond and the reader enjoying hating each other a little too much, lots of foreshadowing to the next chapter if you look close enough...

notes: sorry for not posting for like 2 weeks?? my personal life has been so busy and I've had my spring break all of this week. I've also starting working on a novel so was focusing on that instead of the some fics (don’t worry I literally have no plans to stop writing for hotd hahah)

“Most ladies in the court do not like my friends,” Helaena commented airily besides you from where she sat in the gardens. During the month that followed your interaction with Aemond Targaryen you had scarcely seen him, but had seen much of his sister.

Helaena was right in her words but some bugs would not scare you off. “I am not like most ladies, princess,” you smiled softly in her direction. Today the sun was beating down hotter than usual and it was the shade of the large tree you were under that prevented you from sweltering this afternoon.

Helaena only hummed half heartedly in agreement. In the past weeks you had discovered many things. Most of all, Helaena was kind and unlike her brothers in every way, but was nearly always in her own head. Seeing the relaxed nature of her body right now made you think this was not a truly terrible thing.

“Dragons clash and threads will rip again,” she whispered under her breath as her spider crawled up her arm. You only partly listened to her knowing after a near month that you did not have the knowledge to understand her words at times like these. Suddenly she seemed to fall out of a trance and looked up at you with a radiant smile. “Are you excited for the tourney, my lady?”

And here you were nearly feeling relaxed. Apparently, these tourneys could get violent, if the words you heard were true enough. Jace and Luke were set to compete and you were everything but excited. “It is all new to me, Princess,” you said instead with a weary smile and hoped she could not tell. “I hear it will be quite grand.” There was no other words in your vocabulary to describe what the tourney is set to be like.

Of course you knew about the tourney. It had been some months since Queen Rhaenyra’s reign had begun and the civil war had ceased. With Jace’s nameday this week it was an easy enough decision to host a tourney. A show of unity in the house of the dragon and a new age of strength, her Grace had said. Even Consort Daemon had agreed.

You only thought of your friends competing and who they might face. You had seen Jace and Luke train and while the two had made a shocking amount of progress, slowly becoming warriors under Daemon’s wing, it did not change the fact there were always stronger men. These thoughts were best kept to yourself.

“Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys will be competing!” Helaena recalled brightly, combing the grass below her palms with her fingers. “And the feasts after the tourneys are always the most wonderful part according to my mother.”

There was a certain warmth Helaena possessed when she spoke of Lady Alicent, which silently always made you ask yourself if she was as wicked and scheming as Daemon claimed. Your Queen seemed to look for her at times in between council meetings and Helaena spoke nothing but kind things of her mother. Was this the same woman who had secretly called Jace and Luke bastards for years? Was this the Queen who betrayed the rightful heir?

A slight shadow loomed over both of you, obstructing the shade.

“Mother,” Helaena greeted as she looked past your shoulder. Sure enough, when you craned your neck to look behind you there Lady Alicent was draped in green silks. The only difference between the silks she wore now was that they were not so dark but a lighter green that nearly made her look younger than she was.

Alicent smiled warmly at her daughter and did not yet seem to acknowledge you. “Your brother has told me the children have just left the Septa from their lessons.”

A question seemed to linger in the hot summer air, asking Helaena if she wanted to go and see her sons and daughter. She must have as Helaena got up from the grass, her movements as airy and angelic as she seemed to be most days. “I will see you before the tourney, won’t I?” she smiled at you, already knowing your answer. There was something lively yet relaxing about Princess Helaena and you had not refused her company yet.

“I would hope so, Princess.”

She had grinned, her smile toothy and joyful as she moved to kiss her mother on the cheek before walking from the gardens.

“I have long since wanted to speak to you but you always seem so occupied,” Alicent said as you walked side by side with her. Your silence had her glancing at you with uncertainty before she seemed to push through whatever was on her mind. “You are rightfully occupied, of course. I believe by now anyone in the court can see her Grace trusts you explicitly.”

“I serve Queen Rhaenyra to the best of my abilities,” you said rather monotonously. What was her intent? You looked at her with scrutiny. “I am loyal to her.”

Her steps might have faltered if it were not for the years of being Queen teaching Alicent how to hide shock. “I see Daemon has gotten to you,” she noted, bemused. If she noticed your hardened gaze as you both walked up the stairs to where her rooms were, she did not make it known. “I have nothing to gain that has not already been given to me by Rhaenyra,” she cast a look your way, almost begging you to see the truth of it. “She could have killed me, imprisoned me, exiled me, and done that and worse to my children, but she did not. There were… missteps, guided by the pride and, perhaps, fear of young men, but Queen Rhaenyra has forgiven it all.”

You moved over the words she used, especially missteps. When you both approached the chambers she had been moved to some months ago, you noticed the man in silver armor again. Ser Cole was Alicent’s sworn protector when she was Queen and he was the man who your Queen refused to allow to train Jace and Luke. The only acknowledgement you gave him when you passed by through the doors to Alicent’s rooms was narrowed eyes.

You did not like him and you could not trust her.

“I had tea brought up for us,” Alicent informed you, gesturing for you to sit across from her by the windows. Reluctantly, you sat down. “I have heard you enjoy the rose blend.”

Making a sound of acknowledgement you thanked her in a murmur. The rose tea was the most appeasing of all the ones you had since living in the Red Keep. A servant brought you one in the morning every day before you went to Queen Rhaenyra to ready her. “I enjoy it in the mornings,” you told her smiling. The muscles felt stiff and unnatural when you did it unlike the broad grin paired with laughter you had with Luke nor was it the soft smile of fondness when you were near Helaena.

Like your view of Alicent Hightower’s sons, you did not trust her. She invoked weariness at best. This may have been why you neglected to add how the Red Keep’s fine teas could not replicate the strong black tea your mother made on misty mornings when the sun had barely risen before you would go fishing with your father. She would put too much sugar in it, perhaps to cover the bitter taste when the water was too hot but the cup of tea in the morning felt right enough in its place.

Like the woman in front of you and truly everyone you trusted and detested here, you could only find shattered fragments to remind you of the life you had in your village. Misty mornings and too sweet tea that burned your tongue changed to sweltering days and donning fine silks pretending to be someone you were not born to be. Sitting in front of her made you want to run back to your village, to fish with your father again, but it was the memory of Luke, his brother, their cousins, maybe even Princess Helaena, that glued you to the halls of the Red Keep. It was hard to leave when everyone around you were dear to you.

This did not mean you had to like the games people played or pretend to enjoy playing them. They had never really known survival, at least not like you had. Alicent Hightower is not someone who could survive on the seas you had been sailing on since you were but ten years of age.

But you didn’t tell her any of this, of course. Trust her or not, you did drink the tea when it came and smiled kindly at her, forced your shoulders to not be so stiff, and acted like you did not suspect many horrendous things of her. This was the mother of the Usurper and Kinslayer, you thought, and she could not be trusted. Queen Rhaenyra had loved her father and you doubted the ugliness in his sons came from him. One look at Otto Hightower let you know who they got their foulness from.

“Why did you want to speak to me, Lady Alicent?” you asked after taking a sip of tea. The rose tea was wonderful and it did not even burn your tongue. When a flicker of nerves seemed to pass her amber eyes, you made no move to acknowledge it. She seemed to flounder for words and you were fine with filling the silence. “I would hope you are not as forward as your father in thinking that I can convince the Queen to give you privileges you ought not to have.”

For a moment she did not react to your words at all when she took a long sip of her tea, holding the tea cup to her lips for longer than was necessary. In the back of your mind you were aware your words were harsh and even clunky when spoken. In the months since arriving in the Red Keep your language had changed; You could not speak the way you did to your father to the lords and ladies of the court, so you did your best to learn. Reading books in the library in your freetime was the best way to do this, but even as your vocabulary grew it was times like these, where you were near people you did not trust and anger rose within you that any new knowledge was useless. A bull in a chinashop is how you felt — unnatural, out of place and obscene in motion and practice.

Lady Alicent knew that just as she knew you were a fisherman’s daughter masquerading as someone else but she never said the words. Unlike you, she was clever in surviving at court. If she wasn’t then her entire family wouldn’t have their heads, much less a position in court.

“No,” was all she said in response to your question. Setting her tea cup down, she smiled gently and she almost looked like her daughter. Unlike Helaena, there were years of understanding and knowledge behind her brown eyes that only came with living a life. Gingerly, she placed her hands in her lap and leveled a look at you. It was not harsh but firm nonetheless. “Consort Daemon would like to see my family without air in their lungs. To him seeing them walk the Keep is a slight that should not go unpunished.”

You made no move to correct her. Daemon had been insistent many times on how the Hightower’s treachery should not be forgiven. Otto Hightower had been the Hand of the King and had been planning to usurp Rhaenyra for too many years to count. Aemond Targaryen had nearly killed the Queen’s son. Aegon Targaryen took his sister’s crown. Sometimes you agreed with Daemon, silent as it may be.

You had told Queen Rhaenyra one morning whilst you braided her hair that every day you fished with your father you only killed the fish you needed to survive and not one more. If you did there would be nothing good from it, only the stink of rotting fish that you did not have the stomachs to eat. The words had been clear. What would executing the former Hand of the King, second wife of the King, and King Viserys youngest children do? Queen Rhaenyra had not said anything in response, merely nodding at you slowly in the mirror. The next day when her council had begun planning their journey to King’s Landing to accept peace terms from Alicent Hightower, she had been clear — no Hightowers would forfeit their lives.

Perhaps Lady Alicent knew you had influenced this decision, though you doubted it unless Queen Rhaenyra told Alicent herself. “Consort Daemon does not sit the Iron Throne,” was your response in a voice so neutral and unaffected you could not recognize it as your own. “Queen Rhaenyra has made it clear what she wants. Consort Daemon's wishes are only those desires he will not have.”

From the tilt of her chin as she gauged you, maybe trying to decide if she thought you honest, you knew that she would not tell Daemon what you had said of him. Consort Daemon was someone you respected for what he was. Your Queen was fearsome next to him and his strength had helped her greatly. If it weren’t for him you could not say that Luke and his brother would be progressing so well in training. Yet this desire for violence made Daemon dangerous and too wild to ever trust fully.

“I see why Queen Rhaenyra trusts you,” Alicent said after a moment, then took another sip of tea. With nothing else to say, you mimicked her actions. “You don’t trust me.”

When she said that you flickered your eyes to hers across the tea cup you sipped from. “Should I?” you asked, tongue quick before you even say your tea cup down again. When you did she almost looked amused, though a tight smile hid that expression well.

“You are strikingly similar to someone dear to me,” she told you after a moment, the hard lines of her smile loosening to something softer. Your silence seemed to make her remember why she brought you here. “You do not trust me but I hope you may trust this to be true — I love my family, my lady. I did what I thought would protect them and everything I will ever do is for their safety.”

You stared at her for as long as you could bear to before taking a sip of tea, setting down the empty cup on the table. “You have a family,” she said, leaning forward. There was a desperation in her eyes for understanding. It was only at seeing the expression so feverish in her brown eyes that had you truly listening to her for the first time today. “Tell me, do you not worry for their safety and well-being, and do you not long for their contentment?”

“Why do you think I am here, Lady Alicent, if not for my family?” You lean back into your chair, the plush cushion of the seat pressing against your back comfortably. For the first time Alicent is seeing you in your casual determination and she seems pleased, if not shocked. Before she can question you on family you lean forward as she had done. Gods forbid she asks you if Queen Rhaenyra’s family is one you see as your own, a question you could not answer yourself. “You are right, my lady. I do not trust you. I do not trust your intentions and I certainly do not trust those sons of yours.” The quiet tone of your voice is by no means soft, each of the words from your lips carefully said and holding a dangerous tone.

Lady Alicent seems determined for a moment and she only falters for but a second before clearing her throat. “My family did what I thought we must do in order to survive,” she swore again and there was a wildness in her eyes that glimmered even for eyes as dark as hers. She was desperate for something, maybe your trust or even for you to just see her perspective. “It was an injustice, I know, but Queen Rhaenyra understands that the past cannot be changed. House Targaryen must be a united front if we wish to survive.”

Survival. The way she used the word made you scoff and turn to look out the window beside you. Biting your lip harshly was the only way to keep the ugly scowl from growing on your lips of what survival meant to Alicent’s family. You had believed you could master constraint against saying what your tongue was desperate to, the truth, but then you looked back to her. There she was again, looking desperate and you thought, for what? Empathy?

“I was raised by the sea in the Stormlands. I have seen the ugliness and the brutality those waves carry,” briefly you thought of your father and the way he would steer your family’s small yet sturdy boat. He always could see past the strong rain that would fall into his eyes. How you never knew. “Do you know why my father was a fisherman?” you bit out the words, not sparring her any niceties now. “Because where I am from people do not have lands and titles to inherit. My father is a fisherman because he had to be. How else does a man feed his family? That is survival, my lady.”

Alicent opened her mouth to speak but much like the sea before an approaching storm, you felt a certain anger rise within you. “Survival is not stealing the throne from the rightful heir. It is certainly not trying to kill your own kin and sending their body falling into the sea below, letting the waves drown your own blood.”

You did not realize when you had gotten up, only hearing the scrapping of the wooden chair legs against the stone floor. With your fists clenched in your fury, you wearily eyed Lady Alicent when she got up. Now she looked at you like you were the one that was too wild to be a lady and acted too frenzied. “My lady,” she began and you could see she had no idea what to say next. It did not matter to you anyways. Moving past the table, you did not curtsey and did not even say goodbye as you moved out of the room. Your silk skirts swished around your legs when you left a dumbfounded and perplexed Alicent behind. Ser Cole’s surprised expression when you moved passed him outside Alicent’s rooms did not bother you. Moving furiously down the corridor it did nothing to bother you.

Later, you stood in the most silent part of the library where no one ever seemed to go. You trailed a finger across the spins of the books in the aisle you stood in front of, contemplating which book you would read next. Months ago you had told yourself you wanted to read the histories of Westeros, in particular the Targaryens, because it was your duty as the handmaiden to the first Queen Regent of House Targaryen and Westeros. The truth was, though, you loved to read histories, which was something you did not know until you came to the Red Keep. Before you only had the old copies of books, the second hand of second hand books if you will, that your sister’s husband had possessed. Now you had a library at your disposal.

Luke was close by but despite his improvement in his studies he would not read for pleasure. If he did it would be of pretend people. What good was learning about the past? He had asked you once, not unkindly but his words had made your face scrunch up in dismay. I’d rather learn about something else entirely. Something that didn’t even exist. If it had not been his improvements and even enjoyment of training and Valyrian lessons as of late, you might have hinted to him his taste in those stories of people who were not real was the yearning for a life in which he was not the heir of Driftmark, or where he was not Lucerys Velaryon at all.

Patiently, he leaned against the wall as you perused the books, taking too long to decide what to choose for your next book. He was staring out the window down at the training yard. If he did not have too much to tease you for after you had disclosed your tea with Lady Alicent, you would have told him he looked like he missed his training session this morning.

“I cannot believe you did that,” he muttered to himself. “You could have just lied and said you believed her. It matters little.”

Huffing a sharp breath, you grabbed the book you would read next. “I will not lie, Luke,” you told him, moving past the bookshelves towards his place by the windows. “I won’t belittle myself and dishonor my family by lying to please the likes of the Hightowers.”

“Do you have to be so you all the time?” he asked, grimacing as he said the words. “I’m not sure being honest all the time is a good thing. Mother says Lady Alicent is trustworthy.”

Rolling your eyes you walked past him, plopping yourself on the chair by the window stood in front of. “Should I lie?” you asked him, ignoring his comment on Alicent. You did not hate her but could not trust her. You opened the worn leather of the book. A Survey of Dornish History, it was called. Remembering the topic of Dorne in the Small Council meeting you felt compelled to learn something of their people.

You heard Luke move in front of the chair you sat in and place himself on the armrest of the chair next to you. “Everyone in court lies one way or another,” he said, voice soft and almost apologetic. Looking up at him you noticed that even hunched slightly and sitting uncomfortably on an arm chair, it was unmistakeable that he had begun to grow. The times you had seen him side by side Jace, the lack of a large height difference seemed to shrink.

“Do you?” you asked him, eyes flickering up to his with a challenging look in your eyes.

“No.”

“Then I see no need to pretend only to please others,” you shrugged and went back to the first page of your newest book.

“What do I have to do with what you will or will not do?” his question drew you back to him, this time closing your book for good. Later in your rooms alone after breaking this evening's fast you would read uninterrupted.

“Everything,” you said simply as if it did not need further explaining. His exasperated face made you smile slightly and it was so different than the one you had tried to give Alicent, this was real. “You have honor and you are kind. Do you not know this is such a rare thing to have in someone as highborn as you? If you tell the truth and are honest in everything you do, why should I act differently?”

He huffed indignantly. “You make me sound much better than I am,” he muttered after a moment. Contemptuously, he moved his gaze away from you to observe the shelves of books nearby you had been standing in front of a few minutes ago. Luke seemed to be contemplating something he did not desire to say aloud but with you he could not hold his tongue. “Mother and Lord Corlys think me incapable of doing any wrong to someone else. To them it is obvious that I am wholly good and I thought they might realize I am not so,” his words grew quieter and finally he looked back at you to see your own eyes imploring him to continue. “Perfect.”

“Perhaps you are perfect,” you teased him, fighting the grin off your lips. “Our perfect prince,” you snickered then and he shook his head, fighting his own laugh at your words.

“Nicely done,” he teased you back in mocking tones so light hearted you could never find offense. “Excellent alliteration.”

Scrunching up your nose you thought over this word he said, trying to place its meaning. When it came to you, you smiled remembering when you had read of alliteration in a compilation of Westerosi poetry. “Accidental too,” you said amused with yourself, resting your chin on your palm as you leaned on the armrest of your chair. “I am starting to truly marvel at myself. I fear there is no one as impressive as myself in the Red Keep.”

He laughed briefly. His amusement could not last, however.

“Such a high opinion of yourself you have, my lady,” a cool voice said, sounding like the water of a stream in the winter, cold to the bone.

You did not have to turn around to know who it was, the rigidity of Luke’s body told you that much already. “Prince Aemond,” Luke greeted stiffly as a person could speak but unlike the past, he was not shaking at the idea of Aemond now.

“Prince Lucerys,” Aemond mimicked, tilting his head down as slightly as a person could. To someone else it might have been a nod. Lucerys knew better.

Finally, you turned in your seat and looked at him. As a habit it seemed his arms were behind his back and to your displeasure, his eye was on you again. “My prince,” you greeted him as cordially as you could but the lack of warmth in your eyes only amused him.

Queen Rhaenyra had told you many times of the importance of being civil with the princes, an impossible task. If you cannot be in their presence without calling them the usurper or kinslayer, then do not find yourself in their presence at all, was what her Grace had told you.

You had succeeded until now it seemed. Even now your restraint was barely there now that Aemond Targaryen was near you. “What are you doing here?” you asked hastily, displeased with how stupid you sounded.

He barely paid you mind, his eye glancing at you before he moved past where you and Luke sat to reach the shelves you had only just been near moments ago. “I am here to find a book,” he said softly, though there was that air of arrogance in his voice. “That is what libraries are for, are they not?”

You rolled your eyes at his words, feeling the danger of your annoyance rising within you again. Luke’s gaze flickered to his uncle’s before looking back at you nervously. “We must head to see her Grace,” Luke said and was already up from his chair before you could react.

You frowned. “It is hardly mid day yet and her Grace has no need of me for another few hours—” You could not finish your thought, not when Luke had taken your wrist closest to him in his hand and yanked you up from your chair before practically pulling you towards the doors of the library. “Mind yourself!” you said angrily at him just as you walked through the doors, or rather were pulled from them.

“I had plans to read, Luke,” you fumed at him. “If you did not then you should not have come with me. You do not get to pull me around like I am some ragdoll.”

He threw his hands up in surrender but had a small smile on his face regardless. “Apologies. It would not have been wise to stay alone with Aemond.”

Your anger faded into the background and your features softened. “You are fearful of being alone with him?”

“I am fearful of being the lone witness of any encounter between you and him.”

You scowled at him and he tilted his head like you were proving his point. “You cannot continue to insult him. One day he will not let it go without retaliation. It’s his way.”

Aemond Targaryen was dangerous, that much you could admit, though it would never come from your lips. “Is it an insult to speak the truth?” you asked him slyly. “And it was only the one time. That is the first time I have seen him in a moon’s cycle, Luke. You worry too much.”

Luke shook his head in disagreement. “You cannot call him a kinslayer,” he uttered the last word in a whisper like he was fearsome of the thick doors being paper thin, allowing Aemond to hear the word. “Mother has spoken of the importance of peace in length with myself and Jace as I know she has with you. She takes your advice, I know this. Tell me this, is goading someone who is essential to maintaining the peace within our family a sound idea?”

With force, you huffed out an air of breath and looked to the curved stone ceiling for a moment. In your contemplation, Luke had reached out and held your hand, circling his thumb in soothing circles over the back of your hand. It is what you had done when coaxing him to wake during his nightmares when he was not a prince and you were only a fisherman’s daughter. When you looked back at him you showed him a smile of gratitude.

“I cannot forgive him for what he has done to you and I cannot pretend I do not hate him more than I have ever hated anyone,” you whispered. Recalling what had happened for you to find Luke, you felt a lump form in your throat. “When we found you I thought you were dead.”

“I know,” he said in a voice as quiet as your whisper. “But you saved me.”

You nodded, the emotion in your throat lessening. “Do not make me save you again.”

“I promise,” he whispered and tilting your head down, you smiled.

The sound of the wooden doors opening again cut through the silence and still holding your hand, Luke looked up. Following his gaze your head snapped up and saw Aemond Targaryen. Luke swallowed nothing, his adam’s apple bobbling, perhaps out of nerves. Was he afraid of the Prince? you wondered as you saw Aemond’s eye looked to your clasped hands before he looked back up at Luke. Or was he afraid of what you may do for Luke’s honor and protection?

Neither options pleased you and it was for this reason you regarded Aemond like he is not someone you might have hated the most within the walls of the Red Keep.

Aemond’s lips were in a thin lip, something that you thought was the natural state of his lips as that is how they always were whenever you saw him. His displeasure was as obvious as yours had been in the library, but he only nodded, to Luke and adjusted the leather bond book under his arm. “Prince Lucerys,” he said, though his words lacked warmth. “I look forward to competing against you in the coming tourney.” He turned his gaze to you merely saying, “my Lady,” and turned his gaze to your and Luke’s conjoined hands before he made the irritating humming sound. Without waiting a reply he turned from you both and strided down the hall.

Your hand dropped Luke’s and once Aemond’s figure was too far to hear anything you may say, you let out a breath you had not been aware you were holding. The arrogant air the silver haired prince held still lingered but he was not the object of your dismay. “You are competing against Aemond in the tourney?” you hissed the words lowly as you looked at Luke who at least had the decency to look guilty. “You could die.”

Recalling the deaths that were common in tourneys had worried you but now they would plague you. “He would not harm me,” Luke protested and you scoffed. “He won’t,” he insisted before you could object. “The rumors of discord in our family must be quelled and the tourney is meant to show the peace of House Targaryen and our newfound strength.”

He nearly sounded like a member of the small council and you withheld every retort you thought of knowing they would be said with anger.

“Aemond understands the importance of this and as long as Lady Alicent seeks peace he will do what he must to ensure House Targaryen has it. The tourney is a show not a competition.”

“He’s going to let you win?” you asked with incredulity.

He chuckled and ducked his head as he smiled ruefully. “I doubt that very much,” he looked back up at you and had a soft expression on his face. “But he won’t kill me. Aemond is not the type of person to make the same mistake twice.”

You sighed. Your worry for him was too strong to be ignored and you could not trust the very person he would be jousting. “Can I be right in thinking Jace will joust the Usurper? First son versus first son, and second son versus second son?”

“No,” he denied. “Cregan Stark has come from Winterfell and will be competing against Jace. They grew close over Jace’s time in the North gaining Cregan’s support. He is rather excited to see him.”

“Very well,” you told him defeatedly because there was nothing else to say. If Luke was hurt there would be nothing to save Aemond Targaryen, you thought. “I should return to my chambers,” you told him, suddenly feeling very tired. Luke seemed sullen to see you go but let you leave wordlessly nonetheless.

You had made your way into your rooms for solitude but the rich burgundy walls did not feel like your own as you sat yourself on the bed, exhaling as you sunk into the plush mattress. The worry for Luke came in waves just like the recent memory of Aemond Targaryen’s long look at your hand holding Luke’s. That prolonged displeased you and you felt your lips punching into a thin line much like the silver haired prince’s at this thought. What he thought did not matter, you tried to remind yourself. Luckily, you had a letter to write to your mother and moved to the vanity to sit in the wooden chair.

You sat and began to write back to your father, making sure to tell him only of the joyful things in your life and most of all Luke. You think that your father missed not only yourself but the boy he hadn’t always known to his prince whenever he would write to you. Maybe this is why you always include so much about your beloved friend. Regardless, your mind seemed to forget Aemond Targaryen and the look he had set upon your hand in Luke’s, and you were happy for it. While you wrote and the creased skin relaxed between your brows and you were no longer frowning, Alicent Hightower was in her solar.

“You may go,” she softly ordered the handmaiden after the young girl had clasped her bracelet on her. She did not need telling twice as she bowed and left, leaving Lady Alicent alone with Tyland Lannister. Alicent did not wait for him to ask her the question she had summoned him for. “Even tempered and amiable is not how I would describe Queen Rhaenyra’s handmaiden,�� she said quietly, sitting herself across from Tyland.

“A pity,” he solemnly said and crossed his legs and gave Alicent a look of consideration. “Prince Aemond believes her arrogant. Is this true?”

Alicent laughed humorlessly. “Not in the slightest,” she replied bemused. “Prideful to be sure. Defensive to anyone who has brought harm to the Queen’s family, in particular Lucerys. She loves him and wants to protect him.”

“She does not hide it well, I gather,” Tyland commented. A month later, the interaction between the prince and the handmaiden had not been forgotten by anyone in the castle. It remained a piece of gossip that ladies found amusing because there was no one the likes of Queen Rhaenyra’s handmaiden in the Red Keep before. The fact remained for courtiers like Tyland Lannister, she instilled worry.

Alicent hummed. “She called Aemond a kinslayer,” she commented, looking at Tyland with a heavy gaze. “She has already said that much to his face and called him a killer of kin to myself. It was a moment of anger for her, that much I am certain.”

“She seems to detest him,” Tyland replied with emphasis. “The lady has made no secret of that. But she is illogical. Lucerys lives and that is fact enough Prince Aemond is no kinslayer.”

Alicent was not convinced. “I don’t think it matters to her,” she told him in even tones. “Lucerys Velaryon fell from the skies after my son’s dragon ate his. Rhaenyra’s handmaiden saved him and might have seen him on death’s door for all we know. Aemond not successfully killing Lucerys is of no importance to her and her simple ideals.”

“Does she wish him harm?” Tyland asked her with seriousness.

Alicent was silent for a moment. “No, she does not.”

“Are you quite certain?” he was unsure.

“I am,” Alicent replied and there was no doubt in her voice. “It is strange, Ser Tyland. She detests my son and he finds her disagreeable and yet,” she trailed off, looking to him in hopes of him understanding her thinking. Tyland hummed, none the wiser. “They are similar.”

“She is lowborn,” he says plainly like this was all that needed to be said. “Prince Aemond is of Valyrian blood. There are no similarities to be found surely.”

Alicent looked bemused again and shook her head, knowing that there was no use in explaining to someone else what she had seen that surely no one else has. The handmaiden’s love for Helaena and gentle ways around the ones she loved were strikingly familiar as was the hostility to those she deemed harmful to those loved ones. Such devotion is rarely seen.

A part of Alicent hoped the two might be friendly one day before one of them surely kills each other. Her Aemond who had no true friends and cared for few others might benefit from the company of the handmaiden who could be the only reason behind Lucerys growth of confidence. She would have to be blind not to see and secretly wished you might trust her one day, though she would never say this to anyone and never Tyland Lannister.

As Alicent talked to Tyland, you set your paper down to let the ink set. You smiled, realizing the letter would be dry when you return to your rooms tonight after the Queen's banquet. Hastily you ready yourself for the event as you put on a dark blue dress that is simple yet elegant. Your hair is braided, though not as finely as any of the Targaryens would be for tonight, and your jewelry is minimal with gold earrings and a pendant necklace that sits above your collarbone.

Striding to the door you know the feast is a while away but you give your Queen as much of your time as you can. The thought of getting to her rooms has you opening the door, gleeful at the prospect of speaking to Ser Erryk on the way there.

Your smile drops immediately, though the fact it did not morph into a snarl is quite a feat. Aemond is before you and he is already dressed, the black leathers draped across his shoulders and down to the boots he wore looks pristine as can be. Not even a hair is out of place to your annoyance. “What do you want?”

His face is unamused, lips pinched into a thin line as they always were. “The Septa should teach you lessons on etiquette. You hardly speak like a lady would to a prince,” he muses and your eyes are widening, not at all expecting this and certainly not armed with quips to throw at him. Your mouth opens ajar and something indignant is on your tongue, though you cannot say it for you could not even say what it was. “Matters not. I must speak to you. You can rest assured that it is not for pleasure that I come to speak with you.”

The huff of indignation finds its way past your lips and he doesn’t seem to care. See Erryk is near the door, looking at the both of you with worry. By now everyone has heard that the One Eyed Prince and the Queen’s Handmaiden cannot be near each other without you throwing insults at him. Besides, Ser Erryk had seen it himself.

“I am on my way to see the Queen and I don't have time for the likes of you,” you’re vaguely aware your tone is childish but it is hard to find the will to care. “Her Grace far outranks you, my prince.”

He says nothing and you roll your eyes before you go to move past him. Aemond doesn’t move a muscle, his shoulders in your way. “Move,” you order him and he is amused. “Perhaps I was right when I called you deaf.”

His nostrils flared at your comment and the reminder of your insults to him that month ago. He sighs and moves his body so you might pass him. With a huff of breath and upwards tilted chin, you walk through the threshold of your door. Sadly, Aemond follows you.

“You’re excused Ser Erryk. I will see the lady to her Grace,” he calls out to the guard with an unbothered tone as he strides after you.

“My lady,” Ser Erryk says in a questioning tone, asking for approval.

“Do not trouble yourself, Ser Erryk,” you reply over your shoulder, your facial features pinched into annoyance. He nods and you turn your face away from him. “If Prince Aemond tries something I shall stab him in the leg.”

Aemond chuckles, but it is not a sound of amusement. “My sister sings your praises most days I see her yet you threaten me nearly every time you see me,” he muses. “Am I the lone object of your ire?”

“Your brother is not exempt,” you dryly tell him, trying to walk even faster. It is not good when he meets your strides easily.

“But my mother is not deserving of your ire?” he questions and you almost trip over your feet. He makes a sound of amusement from his throat that does not quite reach his lips, making you turn your head to look at him with narrowed eyes.

You think back to your meeting with Lady Alicent but refuse to give him the satisfaction of your face giving away how you feel for his mother. “She has done nothing to warrant my anger,” you grit to words out and do not bother looking at him. That is a lie but you would not consider telling him the truth. The sight of his angular face might yet make you intent on doing something Luke would begrudge you for. “Queen Rhaenyra thinks highly of her, that is all that matters.”

Your words are final but Aemond seems to want something more by the way he hums. The sound grates against your ears and you begin to wonder why the corridors to the Queen’s rooms feel so long today. “I warned against her wanting to meet with you as the Queen’s handmaiden is most disagreeable,” he tells you, sounding self satisfied. “A terrible liar too. Why my sister seems to trust you I have no knowledge of understanding.”

“Your sister is a friend to me like it or not, Prince Aemond,” you snark and fight the urge to push him hard.

“If you harm Helaena I will kill you,” he says after a long moment in a matter of fact way. He does not even sound threatening, his words a mere fact of what could befall you.

Your lips part out of shock. “No one would ever want to harm Princess Helaena. Unlike like her brothers, she is good,” you emphasize and there is no word eloquent enough to describe her. Your back straightens and you feel as stiff as the oars used to move a large ship. “Trust this when I tell you I am the last person who would think of harming her. A sentiment I cannot share for her brothers.”

His eye appraises you and as your chin juts out and the appearance of defiance is painted over your features, he seems to silently take you at your words. Whats more, he does not pay mind to your insults to him. “A pity that your King Consort does not share this sentiment.” He smiles but there is no amusement but something bitter in the movement of his lips.

The smallest of understanding between you both disappears in the air and if you tried to grab at it, you knew it would slip your fingers. “Consort Daemon is a dedicated to her Grace and the Realm. You should learn to hold you tongue—”

“Dedicated, is he?” Aemond steps into your space and it is too near you for comfort but you refuse to step back. Nor do you find it possible to cower as you match his disdainful tone. “He wanted us all dead, did you know that?” his words are silky and sound like rain falling into the sea. “My mother, my grandsire, my brother, my sister, my niece and nephews. He thought we should be wiped from the world, I have no doubt. And you praise him still.”

You had once seen Princess Helaena’s children, the twins and the young boy who was still learning to walk. “No one would kill an innocent child,” you dismiss the thought and while your words do not shake they do not feel as strong as they once did when you say them.

“Of course not,” he replies and despite the soft tone you can recognize mocking when you hear it.

Huffing, you shoulder past him as hard as you can. Unfortunately, he does not move much. No farewell is given to the prince when you stalk down the corridor to the Queen’s room.

The wooden door is opened by a guard and steady your breath before you greet the Queen. Words are exchanged, though you do not remember them nor do you remember saying anything until Queen Rhaenyra’s hand is on your bicep, asking you, “Are you quite well? You seem like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her touch is that of a mother’s and her eyes are just as touching, making you think of your mother, your sister, then Helaena and the children she has.

You would not dare to say what Aemond had insinuated. War was war is what the members of the small council would say. And this was no longer war, so why would anyone worry about what had already passed?

“I am not one for banquets and court for that matter,” is the answer you give her with a small smile that feels weak on your lips. “I worry for Prince Lucerys at this tourney.”

She nods and smiles in a wry way as she leans back in her chair. “It is necessary but I have a similar weariness. Our house must look united as divided as we are in our own walls.” Her hand eventually drops from your arm and she looks warmly at you. “But there is joy in tourneys and most certainly feasts. Tonight I have seated you next to Lord Cregan Stark at his table. Jace will be nearby I have little doubt,” she looks at you knowingly.

“I will look forward to it,” the words do not sound like a lie to your ears either. While you had known Luke, Jace had been in the North as you had learned in your time at Dragonstone convincing Cregan Stark to their side. The words that Aemond had said seemed to fade from your mind for a time. Besides, Aemond was no Stark who valued honor and he must have lied. Nothing from him can be the truth, you were certain.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated! <3

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon x you #lucerys x reader #lucerys x you #lucerys x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd x reader

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musicalmoritz · 4 months ago

Note

Idk if you were around during the pitchfork Tsukasa days where even having an au where Tsukasa didn’t get possessed by the entity and therefore was just a normal chaotic piece of shit (so first year him since we know in first year, he was literally just a little asshole) was branded to get you like, immediately persecuted. People made call out threads just cause you shipped Tsukasa with someone his age and told other people they deserved to be in a mental hospital or told to kys because they thought Tsukasa had nuance and when the possession theory was TRUE? People still badgered and hurt others to the point that some people are like, terrified of even admitting they like Tsukasa 😭. I remember being driven away from people my age in the fandom and getting dragged into shit circles because the fandom was like “you ship Tsukasa? You’re an abuse apologist!”

I was not around for those days, I’ve only been in the fandom for about a year but omg that sounds rough😭 I can relate tho, before I got into TBHK I was hyperfixated on Fruits Basket- specifically Shigure, Akito, and their relationship, and let me tell you…oof it was a struggle. Luckily I was able to stay in my own little fandom corner with other Akigure lovers but I had to block ppl every time I looked up edits for them on TikTok. I’m also a Hisoka fan so there’s that

Tbh it bothers me how fandoms moralize liking certain characters. I watched a video essay a few months ago on the Dahmer Netflix series and how people romanticize serial killers, and someone in the comments brought up The Joker as a comparison. Now I’ll be honest, The Joker is one of my least favorite characters ever, but he’s still a fictional character. The fact that it would even cross someone’s mind to put him in the same category as a real life rapist, cannibal, and murder, is genuinely so disturbing to me. This might sound dramatic but I was kinda messed up abt it for a while, it made me realize that this line of thinking with fiction can severely alter people’s empathy

Anyways, I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Fandoms are not very rational when it comes to these subjects and they’re very subject to groupthink. You hear the exact same argument reused to explain why Tsukasa shouldn’t be shipped because most of those people aren’t coming up with that opinion on their own, they’re copying what others have said. That’s why I headcanon him as aroace, I can’t picture him liking anyone romantically but I didn’t want to align myself with the rest of the fandom by saying he would automatically be a domestic abuser no matter who he’s with

He’s also a really cool character and tbh I feel like people are missing out by hating him on sight. So many fans seem baffled at the thought of anyone having positive feelings towards him. He’s not crazy high on my character ranking but I still love him dearly, I’m happy so many people have been asking about him today because it gives me a chance to defend my son (well, not defend his actions but yk, defend him from the fandom police)

#tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #ask #ask me anything #tsukasa yugi #fandom discourse

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kinda-iconic · 2 months ago

Text

Possession: A BloodBound spin-off

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the lateness; I’ve been struggling with fatigue this week and it has wiped me out.

Pairing: Adrian Raines x Human!MC (Amy - Amelia for short)

Word count: 4'000+

Tagging: @bloodboundismylife @choicesfannatalie22 @velvet1753 @choices-bird @nala-raines

Synopsis: Haunted by a reoccurring nightmare of Adrian, Amy must decide whether or not to confide in him… or conceal the truth.

Chapter 1: The Nightmare (Part II)

10 hours later…

Adrian sits adjacent to the window, having spent most of his day at a conference on the other side of the city, tapping his pen against the leg of his chair, his head swimming with thoughts of anything but business.

“Isn’t that right, Mr Raines?”

Adrian startles, quickly glancing up at the man standing at the foot of the table; the man stands tall, fingertips barely touching the surface as he regards Adrian with an apprehensive quirk of the brow, as if acknowledging the lack of attention being paid.

“I’m sorry,” Adrian clears his throat, slowly straightening his posture before relaxing back into his chair, “could you repeat the question?”

The man sighs, retrieving a stack of papers from his briefcase, “I need your co-operation, Mr Raines. If we are to discuss this matter further…”

“I understand,” he nods, “and I apologise for not giving you my full attention.”

“Whatever is taking up your time, is it something that I can help with? Something work related?”

“Personal,” he counters, “I can figure it out on my own.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with your assistant, would it?” Another voice chimes, his words spoken with an inquisitive tone, “That young lass with pretty eyes?"

“Yes,” Adrian grimaces at the comment, “but my relationship with her is not on the agenda for today.”

“Is she unwell?”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“If we can return to the topic in hand-”

“Well, it is if it’s going to impact your ability to-”

“Are you questioning my authority?”

The man meets Adrian’s gaze, who regards him with an intense glare; he visibly swallows, the tension in the room now palpable.

“N-no, I…I was merely stating that-”

Adrian tilts his head, his words laden with disinterest.

“Are you married, Mr Selzar? Or in a relationship of any kind?”

“Y-yes, but- I-I don’t see why that is relevant.”

“Then why, pray tell, is my relationship a topic of discussion?”

“Well, you…your…” he gulps, almost too stunned to speak, “you are the CEO, Mr Raines. Your image impacts the company, as does your assistant’s.”

A despondent sigh escapes Adrian before he clicks his tongue, moving to re-pocket his pen.

“Can we please refrain from referring to her as my assistant? Her name is Amelia.”

“I don’t believe that we’ve ever been introduced to…” he trails off, watching in confusion as Adrian rises from his seat, “have you got somewhere else to be?”

“Yes, I do.”

The man opens his mouth, but his words betray him. Instead, it is the other man that speaks first, confusion etched on his features.

“Has this got anything to do with what has been said? Because I did not come here to discuss personal matters-”

“Neither did I,” Adrian interjects, “I believe that it would be best for us to reschedule, at least then we would all be able to focus on the topic at hand.”

“With all due respect, Mr Raines, it is neither I nor Mr Selzar that has the issue.” He nods casually, “but if your personal life is more important than-”

“Yes it is,” Adrian counters, his disbelief at the man’s condescending attitude evident in his tone, “and the fact that you’re even asking me that tells me that you do not have one. yourself.”

“I…beg your pardon?”

“I think you heard me loud and clear.”

Adrian retrieves his laptop case from beside his feet, placing it atop his chair as he gathers the rest of his belongings.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else I’d rather be…”

“But-”

“Gentlemen.”

Before the men have a chance to respond, Adrian leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him. As soon as the door closes, he lets out a shaky breath, smiling proudly to himself as he makes his descent to the lobby.

Once the elevator arrives on the ground floor, Adrian takes his leave, casting a quick glance in the direction of reception before making his way towards the exit, his focus clearly elsewhere as he fumbles around for his phone. Once he has collected it from his pocket, he begins to dial Amy’s number, hoping that his efforts will prove successful.

But it isn’t.

Settling on the idea that Amy has probably fallen asleep, he endures the answer machine, listening intently for the sound of the tone.

“Hey,” he smiles softly, making a figure-8 with his keys as she swings it around his finger, “I’ve just finished for the day, so I’ll be back in around 20 minutes.” He stops abruptly as he passes an employee, bidding them farewell before returning his attention to the phone, “I’m going to stop by the store and get a few things. I thought that it would be nice to talk about things…maybe watch a movie or -”

“Adrian?”

The sound of his name makes him stop in his tracks, the familiarity of the man’s voice causing the colour to drain from Adrian’s face; he sighs, his eyes drifting closed momentarily before he regains his composure, his stoic countenance hardening across his features.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

Adrian ends the call, tucking his phone into his blazer pocket as he turns to face the visitor, his voice firm and expressionless.

“Lucien. What a pleasant surprise,” he remains cautious, making sure that there is a sizeable distance between them, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need your help.”

“No.”

Lucien frowns, “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to, but-”

“I said no,” Adrian reaches upwards, slowly starting to remove his tie, “we made a pact, Lucien. We agreed to never contact one another again.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then why are you here?” He places his hand atop of his hips, taking an almost confrontational stance, the bottom of his blazer hanging over his wrists, “that part of my life is done, Lucien. I’ve done everything in my power to distance myself from it.”

“I know that-”

“Then why darken my doorstep? Why go back on a promise that we both made to one another. A blood pact, no less.”

“Because I’m being followed,” he falls quiet, scratching the back of his neck, “or at least, I think I am. I don’t know who it is or what they are hoping to achieve, but…it’s getting worse.”

Adrian’s composure falters. Against his better judgment, he takes a step towards him, his brows knitting in confusion.

“In what way?”

“It was little things at first. Seeing the same face more than once in a day, shadows creeping up on me just for them to disappear as soon as I turn around, but now it…it’s non-stop. Constant eerie phone calls, notes covered in blood. I got a letter through the mail last week and it was an envelope full of photographs of me, and not ones that you’d find on someone’s social media or in a photo frame on someone’s wall. They were of me sleeping, at my desk…”

“And you didn’t sense anyone in your apartment?”

“No-one,” Lucien grimaces, tendrils of greasy blonde hair falling to cover his eyes, “no matter where I go, they don’t stop. The threats…the bodies…”

“Bodies?”

“A-at least 7 now…” he speaks with a questioning tone, as if now unsure of the true number, “and the blood…there’s so much of it all the time. It’s like this person has a fascination with torturing their victims until they can’t take any more pain.” He looks back at Adrian, who remains cautious, his face betraying nothing, “I know that you and I dabbled in the day-”

“I’m not talking about-”

“This is worse, Raines…” Lucien wipes his brow, beads of sweat now accumulating on his forehead, “and I don’t…I can’t quite understand how this is connected to me, but…and then the note about you, it-”

“What note?” Adrian interjects coldly, “what did this note say?”

“I have it with me,” he begins to fish around in his pockets, biting the inside of his cheek as he fumbles for purchase; eventually, he removes his hand, brandishing a blood-stained parchment. He opens it up with flourish, squinting as he tries to read its contents, “Tell Raines…he…is…NEXT. Then it has a couple of numbers…I’m not sure what to make of it, but-”

Adrian swiftly removes the note from his hand, scouring over its contents.

“When did you get this?”

“It was Saturday – no, last Tuesday. Saturday was the day I got the photos.”

“You mean to tell me that you’ve had this for a week?”

Lucien nods, “give or take a couple of-”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?!”

Lucien shrugs, “I was trying not to contact you about it. I wanted to respect your wishes…plus, to be fair, it’s not like you couldn’t butcher anyone that set foot in your home with malevolent intentions anyway, so I didn’t think it – why are you pacing?”

“You’ve had this information for nine days.”

“Again, I don’t see why it matters. You’re not exactly a pushover, are you?”

“This isn’t about me, this is-” he exhales sharply, closing his eyes in disbelief as he runs a shaky hand across his forehead, “whoever this is has my address…AND the password to access the penthouse.”

“So that’s what that was,” Lucien peers over Adrian’s shoulder, pointing at a selection of bloodied words at the bottom of the page, “I thought that’s what it – where are you g – Adrian!”

The vampire follows on after Adrian, struggling to keep up as Adrian rushes briskly to his car; Adrian opens the door, hurriedly clambering inside before starting up the engine. Unsure as to how he should proceed, Lucien makes the decision to enter the vehicle, closing the passenger door with a thud. As Adrian pulls out of his parking space, Lucien takes the time to ponder.

“You never said why you were so concerned about this creep being at your place,” he looks around the interior of the vehicle, quirking his brows in approval, “is there something that you don’t want he or she to-”

“Someone,” Adrian counters without hesitation, shifting gears, “there's someone.”

“I…didn’t expect that to still be the case,” Lucien tilts his head in thought, “Cecelia, right?”

Adrian shakes his head, his focus never straying from the road before them, his jaw clenched.

“Cecelia died over a century ago. This relationship is recent.”

“How recent are we talking?” Lucien grins brightly, the light-heartedness of their newfound conversation bringing a sudden warmth to their predicament, but his happiness is short-lived, the severity in Adrian’s tone bring him back to the present.

“I hope that it will last a lifetime, but that won’t be the case if something has happened to her because of your neglectful attitude to my well-being.”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Adrian.”

“You shouldn’t need to know anything about me,” he retorts snidely, shaking his head in disbelief, “you should have told me what was going on.”

“And risk putting a target on your back?”

“There’s already one there,” he sighs, turning right down 9th Street, “one that I now must deal with whilst keeping Amelia safe.”

“Her name is Amelia?” Adrian nods, “what does she look like?”

“You’ll probably see her soon enough, seeing as I’m guessing you will need somewhere to stay.”

“You’d have me?”

“I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” He makes yet another turn into his garage, putting the vehicle into park before removing the key from the ignition, “we must have brought this upon ourselves somehow.”

“Do you think it could be connected to what happened in Minne-”

Before he has the time to finish his thought, Adrian gets out of the car, immediately making a beeline for the stairwell; Lucien has no choice but to follow on behind, taking note of their path should they suddenly find themselves in difficulty. Before long, the pair are approaching an elevator.

“So this girlfriend of yours,” Lucien queries, leaning his weight against the metal frame as he watches Adrian press a selection of keys; the door opens, revealing a spacious compartment, adorned with polished marble. Adrian and Lucien enter, the latter failing to cease his enquiry, “does she know that you’re a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“I bet that was a hard conversation to have, huh?”

Adrian shakes his head as the elevator begins its ascent, climbing quickly towards its destination.

“Not really. Amelia was very understanding.”

“So she didn’t scream or throw anything at you? Threaten you with the word of God?”

He makes a shape of the cross with two of his fingers, leaning back in mock horror.

“Stay back or I’ll-”

“Knock it off.”

To Adrian’s surprise, Lucien quietens, clasping his hands together; he rocks back on his heels, looking up at the ceiling.

“Is she pretty?”

“Yes.”

“How pretty? Like…Persephone pretty? Medusa before the-” he presses his palms against his temples, wiggling his fingers mid-air, “…serpent hair…”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Is she blonde?”

“Partially.”

“Naturally?”

“Brunette.”

“Ah,” Lucien nods, “and her eyes?”

“Brown.”

“Cool,” he whistles, “so is she up there now?”

“Most likely.”

“Does she live with you? Pay rent or…board, or something.”

“Why would I charge my girlfriend to stay at my place?”

“Some couples do, you know. Twenty-first century and all that. We’re all about equality now.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” Adrian replies tiredly, the constant bombardment of questions bringing him to the peak of social exhaustion, “but no, Amelia does not pay me anything. She is welcome to stay whenever and however long she wishes.”

The elevator dings, notifying them of their arrival; Adrian breathes a sigh of relief, for the moment of interrogation seems to have ended. As the doors open, his composure falters; he enters the penthouse with a sudden sense of urgency, quickly removing his blazer and tossing it across the back of a chair.

“Amelia?” He calls out, making a beeline towards the open study door, “sweetheart?”

When he receives no answer, he peers inside the room, only to find it uninhabited.

“Ames?”

Lucien holds back, instead choosing to inspect his surroundings as Adrian busies himself elsewhere; he reaches for a small wooden box, turning it over in his hands as he looks over its intricate design, a low whistle escaping him.

“You have a nice place here, Raines!” He bellows, loud enough to be heard, “very nice little trinkets.”

Adrian ignores him, his voice taking a panicked tone as he tries yet another door.

“Amelia?!”

“She could have gone out…maybe gone to do a little bit of-” Lucien falls silent, his eyes widening with intrigue as a young woman comes into view; he watches her closely, his lips curving with contempt as she enters the living room, seemingly oblivious to his presence. She rubs the tiredness from her eyes before walking over to the kitchen, collecting a glass from the cupboard.

“Raines?”

Amy spins around, her eyes widening as she lays her sights on Lucien; she startles, the glass slipping from her grasp and shattering around her feet, leaving her unable to move in fear of causing harm to herself.

Lucien, as if sensing her terror, lifts his hands in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. He moves forward, causing her to instinctively go to shy away, her foot mere centimetres from the ground as he speaks.

“Stay very still, alright?” He continues his approach, remaining calm and composed, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Amy lowers her foot, just to stop as he speaks once more, his volume having raised in warning.

“There’s a big shard of glass to the left of your heel,” he moves around the counter, now having full view of the situation, “and the bottom of the glass is slightly to the right.”

“Wh-who are-”

“Just a friend.”

He comes to a stop in front of her, crouching down to retrieve the shards in a cupped palm, “do you have any slippers? Any shoes that you could wear until I am sure that all the glass is gone.”

“I-I have some Uggs.”

“Great,” he beams brightly, casting a glance towards the door, “where are-”

“Amelia!”

Before either has a chance to respond, Adrian appears before them, the crease of his brow fading as he wraps his arms around her, drawing her further into his embrace.

“Feet.”

Adrian regards Lucien in befuddlement; he follows Lucien’s gaze as he looks to the floor, now aware of the glass that surrounds them. Adrian reaches up, gently caressing Amy’s face, the pad of his thumb ghosting her bottom lip.

“What happened?” He ponders, “are you hurt?”

Amy shakes her head.

“Forgive me for startling you,” Lucien collects the last of the glass, placing it swiftly in a container; he stands upright, extending a hand, “my name is Lucien. You must be Amelia, yes?”

For the first time since their meeting, Amy is able to get a proper look at their guest. For a while, she spies nothing of note…

…but then she sees the blonde undertones in his hair…

…and blue eyes, staring back at her.

Her own eyes widen in terror as flashes of crimson invade her vision, memories of the previous night’s torment etched in her mind like a broken record, unable to stop.

Amy cannot help but take a tentative step back, her weariness apparent for both men to see. Her body trembles slightly, enough for Adrian to take heed of the change in her disposition.

“Ames?” He tilts his head, “is everything okay?”

Before Amy is even able to offer up a response, Lucien chimes into the conversation, having picked up on the tension that has begun to cloud their conversation, her unease now visible to all.

“It’s probably best not to move until the floor has been vacuumed,” he speaks softly, trying to ignore the air of caution that has now befallen her, “there still might be some remnants on the ground that I have yet to spot.”

Amy remains quiet, her expression unyielding; not even the warmth of Adrian’s fingers as they graze the nape of her neck seem to rouse her from her predicament. A frown creases Adrian’s brow, concern etched in his once collected façade as he looks between the pair.

“What happened before I found you?” He leans in closer, his voice a gentle whisper, “what did he do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I’m asking Amelia,” Adrian claps back, his focus never leaving hers, “did something happen?”

Amy shakes her head faintly.

“Are you certain?”

“She didn’t notice that I was here,” Lucien clasps his hands behind his back, bowing his head, “I said your name and it startled her. She dropped the glass on the floor and I told her not to move before I had cleared it up. That is all.”

“Is what he said true?”

Amy doesn’t answer, at least not at first; eventually, she nods, her gaze unwavering. Adrian sighs, wrapping his arms around her shoulders before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. She closes her eyes instinctively at the contact. Lucien cannot help but watch on, a wistful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“How are you feeling? Did you manage to get to sleep?”

Amy nods.

“Was she not sleeping?”

Adrian shakes his head, burying his face into her hair as he continues to hold her close. It is only when he hears her muffled voice that the pair separate.

“Did you get any snacks?”

“I’m afraid not. Something…came up.”

“Is it anything that I can help with?” She speaks tiredly, covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle a yawn, “I’d l-like to if I could…”

“You’re helping plenty already,” Adrian replies kindly, affectionately stroking Amy’s cheek, “Lucien and I have something that we need to discuss, so we will be preoccupied this evening.”

“That’s fine,” she exhales slowly, “I can keep myself busy.”

“I’m afraid that it might take a few days to sort, so forgive me if I am not as present.”

“I can go back to my apartment if it would-”

“No,” his response is swift yet firm, but the brightness does not leave his eyes, “would you be able to stay here? At least until Lucien and I have dealt with everything?”

“Is it something bad?”

“Well…”

“It is nothing that you need to concern yourself with,” Adrian interjects, meeting Lucien with an icy glare, a silent warning as to what should come if he was to continue, “but Lucien will be staying with us for the foreseeable future, if that is alright with you?”

“S-staying?”

“I won’t get in the way,” Lucien offers a smile, but it does not reach his eyes; he begins to rap his fingers against his thighs, “and I will return him to you at before bed. I promise.”

“Is that alright?”

She shrugs weakly, feigning a pleased smile.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Thank you, Amelia,” Lucien holds out his hand in offering, waiting patiently for Amy to take it; to his surprise, she places her hand atop his open palm. He lifts it to his lips, placing a soft kiss upon her knuckles, “I hope that we can become firm friends one day.”

“Yeah…sure…”

Adrian places his hands on Amy's waist, lifting her up enough to re-position her feet atop of his. They start to walk in unison, the carefulness of his touch and guidance eliciting a smile from her as he leads the pair into the corridor and out of the path of shards, her bare feet completely free of cuts or scratches.

“Now if you’ll excuse Adrian and I,” Lucien follows, placing a hand on Adrian’s shoulder; Adrian grunts in disapproval, “we have an issue to attend to.”

Adrian nods, leaning in to kiss Amy’s cheek.

“Don’t wait up for me, okay? I don’t know how long I’m going to be.”

“I’m pretty tired, so I doubt it would be possible even if I tried.”

Adrian beams, his hands falling to rest on her hips, fingertips inching underneath her pyjama top as he captures her lips once more, his touch soft and laden with want.

“Sleep well, beautiful.”

He reluctantly steps away, only pausing to cast one last furtive glance in her direction before ushering Lucien into his office, closing the door behind them.

At the turning of the lock, Amy’s knees begin to buckle underneath her; she instantly grabs onto the edge of the countertop, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to steady her quickening breath. She waits patiently for the moment to pass, only trying to move once she has managed to regain feeling in her legs.

“It can’t be…” she whispers to herself, her pulse failing to stabilise; she shakes her head, as if trying to rid herself of fear, her words shaky and uncertain, “n-no…no…I-I won’t let him...”

The next few moments crawl by like years, and Amy soon finds that she has surpassed the worst; not wanting to draw further attention, she carefully makes her way to the bedroom, her hand dragging along behind her as she uses the wall as an additional support. After a couple of minutes, she makes it…

…but she doesn’t get into bed.

She waits in quiet contemplation, her gaze darting between all four corners of the room, as if looking for something important. It isn’t long before she finds it – a small, metal briefcase, tucked discreetly under a pile of begotten books and blankets, its handle only visible in the dim light of the moon as it seeps through the curtains, casting a silvery shimmer on the wooden skirting. She does not hesitate, using her elbow to prop up the leather-bound spines as she partially exposes the case, undoing the clasp and prying it open just enough for her hand to reach inside.

After a minute of fumbling, she manages to find what she is looking for, her fingertips making purchase on something hard and jagged; she yanks it free from its casing and brings it into the light, making sure to replicate the initial layout of the area, ensuring that not a single detail is misplaced before moving over to her side of the bed, remaining quiet so that she may hear their footfall.

“Adrian will understand,” she whispers to herself, head bowed, “won’t he?”

A defeated sigh leaves her, followed by a wave of unease, as if her body is asking her to reconsider her decision - but she doesn’t.

Instead, she begrudgingly clambers into bed, making herself comfortable enough for sleep to come quickly.

…a wooden stake hidden deep inside her pillowcase.

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #choices bb #bloodbound #adrian raines #adrian x mc #choices fanfic

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