#there’s just a chill in the air that i’d like to combat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kindersurprisebacterium · 4 months ago

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Mine (Simon Riley / Reader)

CW: posessive Simon, questionable power dynamics, face sitting, vaginal sex, implied violence

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 2.9K

His lips were warm. I could taste the dirt and salt on his skin. His dark hair stuck to his forehead, wet with river water. A rush of heat sparked through my limbs as his hand settled on my waist.

His name was Aidan, I think. I only paid attention to his dark eyes, which stared me down across the field. His hands gripped his gun tight. He squinted as he looked through the scope, pulling the trigger with confidence. As I stepped up to the range, his hand brushed against the small of my back.

I didn’t hesitate when his sodden fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling me behind the armory. Despite the chill of the night air against my damp skin, I felt undeniably warm. My face was burning, and I was sure I was blushing madly.

“You two reek.”

A booming voice drew me from my thoughts. Digging my palms firmly into Aidan’s chest, I pushed him away. A pair of brown eyes locked onto me. His face was hidden beneath a black balaclava, but I could tell by the way he squinted that there was a hint of anger in his words. ‘Riley’ his nametag said in bold letters.

“Hit the showers.”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” I lowered my gaze to the ground.

The next morning in the mess hall I caught a glimpse of Aidan. Thick, blood-soaked bandages covered his face. His nose was taped up and his lips were parted as he struggled to breathe. As his eyes met mine, his brows raised. His bottom lip trembled ever so gently and the tray of food in his hands shook.

“Don’t come anywhere near me-” he sputtered, quickly spinning on his heel. An undeniable look of disgust was upon his face. His eyes flicked over my body as if I was some insignificant speck of dust. I felt naked under his gaze, a primal vulnerability I hadn’t felt since childhood.

I stepped forward, the soles of my shoes squeaking against the linoleum. He abruptly pulled away. The parfait on his tray tipped over. His pupils were constricted into tiny black pinpoints. I watched as his chest heaved as he took in shallow, shaky breaths.

The familiar pang of soreness rose in the back of my throat. Burning towers welled in my eyes. I pursed my lips and dug my heels into the ground. Breaking off into a sprint, I pushed through the mess hall doors. I wrapped my arms around my chest, pulling the collar of my hoodie up to my face.

“Private,” Said a gruff voice. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, were a familiar pair of brown eyes. My lip quivered as the thoughts running through my head began to spiral. The ache in my throat was now burning. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry-” I blurted out. His gloved hand quickly reached out, fingers hesitantly brushing against my face. He wiped the tears from my cheek with the pad of his thumb. His palm rested against my cheek. Sighing, I leaned into his touch, feeling my tensed muscles slowly relax.

“Why don’t I walk you to the dormitories.” It wasn’t phrased as a question. His arm wrapped around my shoulder. I nodded silently.

His touch was comforting, and he acted softer than I’d seen him before. It was a stark contrast from his brooding personality in the field. My heart pounded in my ears as his fingers traced idle patterns into my sleeve. It felt oddly intimate for a superior officer like him to be acting this way.

The dirt crunched beneath our combat boots. I sniffled, my sinuses congested after crying. The overwhelming feeling of fatigue washed over my body. I’d only just woken up, but I needed to go back to sleep. With half-lidded eyes, I leaned into my Lieutenant, my shoulder bumping against his ribs.

“Tired?” He asked, fingers sliding down my arm.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could manage to say.

“It’s okay, private. Take the day off from training. I don’t want you shooting with your head bogged up.”

We stilled as we reached my door. He glanced at the door, labeled with my last name, and then back to me. My stomach fluttered as I looked up at him through my wet lashes.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

His arm dropped to his side. I wiped my nose with my sleeve, standing up straight. My fingers wrapped around the doorknob, pushing it open with a soft creak. I caught him looking inside my room, eyes scanning the assortment of items I’d stolen from home, and the posters that hung on my wall.

I felt heat rise in my face as his brown eyes settled back on me. He reached out, gently grabbing my shoulder once more.

“I wouldn’t pay any of these men much mind if I were you.” He spoke plainly.

The scorching water felt soothing against my skin. I stood under the faucet, tilting my head back into the stream. My sandals squeaked as I shifted my weight onto one of my feet. I ran my fingers through my hair, scrubbing the suds into my scalp.

“You seen that new recruit?” A voice said with a laugh. My fingers stilled in my hair. Suds ran down my wrists.

“Don’t try it. Didn’t you see what Lieutenant did to Aidan? Sent him straight to medical for a single kiss.”

Nausea swelled in my chest. I clasped my hand over my mouth, muffling my breathing. Thoughts whirled inside my head. I felt guilty, guilty for leaving Aidan battered and dressed in soiled bandages. Guilty for the way my stomach fluttered around my Lieutenant. I balled my hands into fists, stepping out of the stream of hot water.

“Looks like lieutenants got a little obsession then, huh?”

A soft knock echoed from the door. I pulled the comforter from my body and rose to my feet. I tugged the hem of my shirt, letting it fall over my bare thighs. Swallowing the bubbling anxiety in my throat, I grasped the doorknob.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes raked down my body, and back up.

“I haven’t seen you on the field today,” a touch of annoyance threaded through his voice.

“I just-”

“Can I come in,” he stepped forward, pushing past me. Sighing, I pushed the door closed and turned, pressing my back against the mahogany.

“Simon, did you hit Aidan?”

His eyes widened. He stepped forward. The fluttering in my gut only grew as he closed in. I could feel his breath through his balaclava.

“I didn’t want him going near you. The men in these barracks don’t deserve someone like you.” His hand gently cradled my head. “I want you to myself.”

“You could’ve said something,” I mumbled. He had a glint in his eye that seemed almost predatory. His other hand rested on my hip, fingers digging into my skin.

“I don’t want anyone else to touch you,” he grunted, leaning in closer. “Not a fucking finger.” His lips met mine through the fabric of his balaclava.

“Lieutenant,” I said against his mask.

“It’s Simon,” he grunted.

“Take off the mask, Simon.”

A noise slipped from his chest. I couldn’t tell if it was a grunt or a response. His grip on my hip tightened as he pulled the fabric from his head.

Thick scars marred his pale skin. Thin white lines from years ago now blended in with the creases in his skin. His nose, prominent and strong, was also crooked. His jaw was sharp, and imposing. Short blonde stubble adorned his face.

His hair was a mess. His waves were tussled and flattened by his mask. I reached out, running my fingers through his hair. His stiff body softened, leaning into my hand.

“I want to feel you,” he inched his face closer to mine, eyes flicking across my face. His lips pressed against mine. They were rough as they slowly moved against mine. I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand underneath my shirt. He groaned against my lips, fingers groping every inch of skin he could find.

He hooked his arm around my back, pulling me close to his body. A dull throbbing sparked in the pit of my stomach. I whined against his lips. My fingers twirled around his blonde locks and tugged.

“Tell me you need me,” he mumbled against my lips.

“Simon-”

“Tell me,” his tone grew more pressing. He toyed with the hem of my shirt between his fingers, inching the fabric over my hips. His brown eyes were locked onto the growing wet patch in my underwear. I looked away, teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

He nudged his thigh between my parted legs. A soft noise slipped from my tongue. His plush lips trailed kisses down my neck.

My head felt like it was spinning. His hands on my body was a feeling I craved. Every stroke of his thumb, squeeze from his calloused fingers, I needed it.

“I need you, Simon.”

He laced his fingers with mine, tugging me forward. He stepped backward toward my bed, tugging me along. His calves met the bed frame. The mattress creaked as he moved onto the bed. With two fingers he urged me to step forward. His brown eyes raked up and down my body. I kneeled onto the mattress, quickly straddling his hips. His hands gripped my hips tight, fingers digging into my ass.

I gripped my shirt, pulling it over my head. I felt his cock stiffen through his jeans, straining against the tight fabric. I rested my palms on his toned chest and slowly rocked my hips against his. His hands guided me, grinding my core against his hips.

I pressed my lips to his in a sloppy kiss. His tongue darted out, running along my bottom lip. I parted my lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into my mouth. He moaned into my mouth, rutting his hips up against me. His cock twitched from within his jeans.

“Sit on my face-”

“What?”

“Sit on my face. I need to taste you.”

He stared at me with half-lidded eyes, pupils dilated. Swallowing the rising nerves in my chest, I slipped my fingers into my underwear, pulling them down my hips. His brown eyes locked onto me as I shifted my weight, pulling the garment down my leg. I gripped the headboard, straddling his chest. My breathing grew shaky as I stared down at the blonde beneath me.

“Simon, I don’t know if I can-”

“Please,” he ran his palms up my thighs, gently holding my waist in his hands. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. His brown eyes were locked onto my cunt. Clenching my jaw, I placed my knees on either side of his head. His expression was that of bliss. A rosy tint dotted his cheeks. I lowered my hips onto his face, giving him just enough room to breathe. He licked a thick stripe up my cunt. Shuddering, I lifted my hips from his face.

“I said sit,” he wrapped his arms around my thighs, pulling my hips flush to his face. He flicked his tongue against my clit. My fingers ran through his hair, holding tight as he toyed with my clit.

“Simon,” I whined, letting my head fall back. My stomach tensed, thighs clenching around his head. I gently rocked my hips against his face, grinding my clit against his tongue. He moaned against my cunt. Jolts of pleasure shot up my spine. My cunt clenched around nothing, a moan ripping away from my chest.

He stared up at me, brown eyes now a deep black. Sweat beaded down my heaving chest. My breath turned into shallow pants as he worked his tongue against me. His gaze locked onto me. He was eating up every reaction from me, cock twitching in his jeans.

He wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking harshly. Tears welled in my eyes. I cried out his name, my words coming out as incoherent wails. My grip on his hair tightened. His brows furrowed, eyes squeezing shut as he lavished my cunt.

I knew I wouldn’t last long. My thighs were quivering beside his head and the tension in my stomach only built with every movement of his tongue. My vision blurred as my eyes unfocused. Drool spilled from the corner of my parted lips.

The tension in my limbs snapped, breaking all together. I writhed, grinding my hips against his face. He moaned into my cunt, only adding to the cacophony of pleasure wracking my body. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I choked out a sob, calling his name as I rode out my high.

In a moment I was on my back, shaking as I took in gasping breaths of air. My lungs burned. His soft lips pressed kisses along my jaw. He cooed soft praises into my ear, fingers soothing over my stomach.

“You did so good for me,” he whispered.

“Simon,” I spoke through heavy breaths “fuck me. Need you inside.”

His eyes widened. He stared at me blankly, as if waiting for me to say another word. When I didn’t, he quickly pulled his shirt from his chest, dropping it onto the bed. Biting my lip to hide the smirk on my face, I pulled his shirt over my bare chest, looking down at the name tag on the lapel. In bold letters ‘Riley’

He stiffened, pulling away to look at my bare body, draped in his shirt. He groaned, fiddling with his belt. His fingers slipped underneath the band of his jeans, pushing them down his hips just enough for his cock to spring free. His cock was thick and flushed at the tip. A string of pre-cum drooled from his head.

“Condom-” he mumbled, reaching toward the nightstand.

“I’m on the pill. Please, Lieutenant,” I crossed my ankles behind his back, keeping him locked between my legs.

“Fuck- okay,” he spat onto his cock, using his hand to spread the slick around. He gripped my knee and pushed it toward my chest. I watched as he lined himself up with my cunt and slowly pushed forward.

I tossed my head back against the covers as he slipped inside. The stretch of his cock sent jolts of pain down my legs. I clenched my jaw, stifling the moans that threatened to rise from my chest.

“Fuckin’ gripping me,” he grunted. He swiped his thumb against my clit, tightly circling around the nerves. I whined, his name rolling off of my tongue. He inched forward, cock twitching inside of me. His hips stilled as he bottomed out. Both of our heaving bodies were sticky with sweat and spit. His pale skin glistened ever so slightly in the dim lighting.

“Move, please,” I spoke through heavy breaths. He glanced down at my shirt- his shirt with a smirk. His hands gripped the covers on either side of my head. The bed creaked beneath us as he began quickly thrusting his hips. My body jolted with every rut.

I whined. I could feel him in my stomach, knocking the wind from my lungs. Every thrust made me feel so impossibly full, as if I’d burst if he went any faster.

“Mine,” he grunted, “say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Simon,” I whimpered, gripping his biceps.

“Nobody else can fuck this pussy. Nobody else can touch you-” he grunted. His pace sped up, each thrust growing harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

“Simon!” I cried out. My nails dug into his skin, leaving behind thin red lines in his pale skin.

“Nobody can fuckin’ look at you,” he punctuated his words with a thrust of his hips.

“Simon, please!” I sobbed. I didn’t know what I was begging for, but I needed it. Needed more.

“That’s it. Taking my cock so well,” he groaned, pressing his chest to mine.

His teeth sunk into my neck, hard enough to bring bubbles of blood to the surface of my skin. Hot tears ran down my face.

My vision blurred, brows knitting as each thrust drew me closer to my orgasm. I could feel his cock twitch inside me. His grunts softened, blending into higher-pitched moans.

“Gonna cum in you-” his speech grew slurred. Each syllable blurred into an incoherent mess of sound. My body felt tense like my spine was being pulled tight. My back arched off of the bed, a cry slipping from my parted lips.

A rush of heat washed over my body. My muscles contracted, quivering as the last bit of strength was tugged from them. I sounded distorted, voice laced with lust as I cried out his name. I went limp in his arms, cunt squeezing his cock tight. His hips stilled, shuddering as he came.

Warmth trailed down my inner thighs, spilling onto the covers below. With a lewd squelching sound, he pulled out, watching the mess of cum drip between my legs. The mattress shook as he collapsed beside me. His toned arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his warm chest.

He peppered soft kisses over the back of my sweaty neck. His fingers absently traced patterns into my sticky skin. I couldn’t help the smile that came to my face. I glanced down at the nametag on my shirt. I felt branded. Labeled. But a part of me liked it, craved that kind of affection.

“Mine.” He mumbled, just barely audible.

Masterlist

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #read on ao3 #cod fanfic #cod fic #ghost smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader

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candyshin00 · 2 months ago

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Deceptive Beginnings - Ch. 1 Monday

A/N - I am really excited posting this fanfiction and I hope you all love it!! I am new to posting FF on tumblr so if you have any tips or advice feel free!

Deceptive Beginnings Masterlist

Next Chapter

Word count - 5.9k

Warnings - dead parents mention, anxiety symptoms, health issues mention

The shrill blare of your alarm yanks you out of sleep, echoing sharply from somewhere across the room. With a groggy whine, you fling a pillow in its direction—only to notice the noise is coming from your phone. You groan and peel yourself out of bed, checking your phone after turning off the alarm. The time blinks back at you mercilessly. Your first day back at university, after almost a week, you’ll be late if you don’t hurry.

Muttering a quick curse under your breath, you throw down your phone and grab some clothes from your closet: a red and black plaid skirt, fishnets, a random band tee you stole from Taehyung, and your well-worn, thrifted combat boots, a staple of yours. You quickly throw on some simple makeup with heavy and smudged black eyeliner and brush your hair with your fingers before grabbing your phone and bag and practically running out the door.

You barely make it to school on time, breathing a sigh of relief as you glance down at your phone: 8:00 a.m., Monday, October 4th. "I have about 15 minutes before my first class," you mutter.

Before you can tuck your phone into your bag, you feel it vibrate. You smile as you see ‘Yoon Man’ flash across the screen. You answer, unable to resist teasing him a little. “Well, good morning to you, too,” you say, knowing exactly how much he despises being up this early.

A low, annoyed groan filters through the line. “Don’t start,” Yoongi mutters, his voice thick with irritation. He pauses, sighing heavily. “Just calling to remind you we’ve got practice today.”

“As if I’d forget.” You scoff, feigning offense as you fall into step, strolling down the hallway. Yoongi chuckles softly on the other end before you hear the 'beep beep beep' of your call being cut short. He unknowingly helped calm your nerves about being back at school.

"Hey, you!" A voice sharply calls out behind you. Before you have time to turn around and react, you feel a firm grip on your wrist pulling you down the hall.

As you glance up, you spot the back of a boy’s head—his longer, wavy hair gathered into a loose ponytail. You barely have time to process it before being pulled into the bathroom. He slams the door shut, locking it behind him with a quick, decisive click.

You look up, and there he is—Jeon Jungkook. You’ve never formally met him, but his reputation precedes him, shadowed by countless rumors. He grins at you, a sparkle in his eyes that you can’t quite read and an air of casual ease that somehow makes him even more infuriating. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you rub the soreness from your wrist, still stinging from his grip.

He smirks, clearly enjoying your irritation, and leans in, his voice dropping to a smooth, playful tone. “I need you to do something for me.” His head tilts as he studies you, flashing a lopsided smile that’s a touch too practiced, a hint too fake—and it sends a chill down your spine despite the easy charm in his gaze.

You look him up and down, finally getting a good look at him before crossing your arms across your chest. "And the way you want to ask me this is by locking me in the bathroom?" You raise an eyebrow, your voice thick with irritation.

He lets out a low, frustrated groan. “I just need you to listen to me for a minute, okay?” He sounds as if he’s trying to keep his usual smooth charm intact. He steps closer, his playful smile fading just enough to reveal a flicker of annoyance beneath it.

As he moves closer, it’s impossible not to notice just how handsome he is. He has big, round, doe-like eyes that are a beautiful shade of brown. His nose is flat at the tip, and his fake smile is charming, even if it does creep you out a little. "I never said I wasn't listening." You reply, trying to mask your unease.

You feel the cold bathroom door against your back as Jungkook steps closer, his hands sliding to rest on either side of your shoulders. He takes a deep breath, his gaze locking with yours. "I need you to do me this favor." He looks deep into your eyes, making you even more uncomfortable about the situation.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words. "A favor? I don't even know you; I only know of you." Your voice wavers slightly, frustration bleeding into the words. And what I know isn’t exactly promising.

You attempt to brush his hands off your shoulders, but he tightens his grip in response. You feel your chest growing heavy with anxiety and irritation. Seriously? Who does he think he is? The main love interest in a drama?

He’s close—too close—and the faint scent of him invades your senses: clean clothes fresh out of the dryer, undercut with a hint of musk, probably his deodorant. You feel your stomach twist, a mix of annoyance and something you’d rather not name. Focus. He’s not special. Not even close.

"It's not that deep, okay? Just hear me out." He rolls his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh before his gaze locks onto yours once more.

Your heart stutters in your chest, the intensity of his stare igniting a fresh wave of anxiety. Not that deep? That’s rich coming from someone who has me pinned against a door like this. What kind of ‘favor’ even requires this level of dramatics?

"Well, spit it out then." You almost hiss in response. You can feel your patience growing thin as that heavy feeling in your chest continues to grow.

I’m gonna vomit. Your palms feel clammy, your fingers curl into loose fists at your sides, nails digging lightly into your palms. Your breath catches in your throat for a moment before you force it out, trying to maintain a façade of control. He wouldn't actually hurt you. Right?

Your knees lock instinctively, as though bracing yourself for a fight-or-flight moment. A faint buzzing fills your ears, and you’re acutely aware of the heat creeping up your neck. He’s still staring at you, his dark eyes unwavering. Why won’t he just get to the point already? This is unbearable. What if he—

You shove the thought away before it can spiral further. Your jaw clenches, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though the weight of it makes your skin prickle. Don’t show him you’re rattled.

Just focus. Breathe. Just like Yoongi taught you. In through you nose out through your mouth.

He takes another deep breath and brings his face down closer to yours. "I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for a week. That's all I need you to do." He flashes you another fake, award-winning smile, the kind that’s disarmingly charming yet entirely unnerving.

"THE FUCK?" You yell into his face. Did he really just ask you that? The absurdity of the request hangs heavy in the air, leaving you momentarily speechless.

He groans at your outburst, swiftly covering your mouth with his left hand. “Be quiet, will you?! I need you to do this.” You glare up at him, but he remains unfazed, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear. “All I need you to do is pretend to be my girlfriend. Don’t overcomplicate it—just say yes.”

"Why should I?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Is he serious right now? Your mind races, caught between disbelief and irritation. Does he think I’m just waiting around for him to swoop in with his ridiculous demands? Who even does that?

Your stomach churns as you try to process what’s happening. Pretend to be his girlfriend? For what? And why me? There are about a hundred other girls in this school who’d probably jump at the chance. So why is he standing here, breathing down my neck like I’m his only option?

You narrow your eyes at him, folding your arms as if that alone could shield you from the mess he’s clearly trying to drag you into. Whatever his reason is, it’s not good enough.

He groans and backs away from you, placing his hands on his hips. "I need a girl to pretend to be my girlfriend just for a week." He says with a weary sigh.

You huff, the disbelief bubbling in your chest threatening to spill over. “I want to know the reasoning behind this ridiculous request,” you can feel your muscles relax a little no longer feeling that you are in danger. “Because I’d be sacrificing my peace here at school for you.”

And peace isn’t exactly something I have a lot of to begin with. You internally cringe at the thought of the chaos this would bring—the whispers, the stares, the inevitable drama. Being the ‘Golden Boy’s girlfriend’? Yeah, no thanks. Your stomach churns as the reality of it settles in.

Everyone loves him. He’s good at literally everything. Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect charm. But beneath all that ‘perfection,’ there’s a reputation that follows him like a shadow—his love of women.

Of all the people in this school, he picks me? Why? And why the hell does he think I’d agree?

Jungkook groans, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “It’s my parents,” he admits as he turns away from you. “They keep pestering me about when I’ll get a girlfriend, and honestly, I just can’t deal with it anymore.”

You blink, caught between disbelief and amusement. “Then go get a girlfriend? You’ve got tons of girls interested in you.” Your tone is sharp, almost mocking, because seriously—what is this guy’s problem?

You bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a laugh. Does he really not see the irony here? Women practically throw themselves at him for even a sliver of attention. Hell, half the school would line up just for the chance to say they’ve kissed him.

Then a thought hits you, making your stomach churn. Wait, is he pulling that cliché ‘you’re not interested in me, so now I’m interested in you’ nonsense? You nearly gag at the idea. God, gross. Don’t flatter yourself, Jungkook.

He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. You can tell patience isn’t his strong suit. "It’s complicated, okay? I don’t need my parents up my ass about a relationship right now, so pretend to be my girlfriend just for a week, and I’ll pay you." His eyes flick down to your wrist, lingering on the faint red mark left behind. His tone softens slightly. “And I’m sorry for being so aggressive. I couldn’t exactly bring this up in the hallway.”

You pause, studying him carefully. He almost seems genuine—or at least as genuine as someone making such a ridiculous request can be. Still, your gaze sweeps over him, searching for something—anything—that might betray his true intentions. His body language screams frustration. Is he always this impossible to read?

Narrowing your eyes, you cross your arms. "You aren’t exactly making me want to say yes," you reply flatly, watching as he closes his eyes tightly, clearly wrestling with his composure.

"Come on, I’m literally offering to pay. What do you want me to do?" He sighs deeply before turning his gaze back to you.

Your thoughts linger on his words. Pay. Your band could really use new equipment—Yoongi’s drum set is practically held together by sheer will power at this point. Yoongi and Taehyung have done so much for you; maybe you can survive Jungkook for just a week. Right?

A shiver runs down your spine as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Beg… on my knees?" He says it like a joke, but there’s a flicker of something desperate in his expression.

You smirk, tilting your head up at him. "That’s not a bad idea." You’ve already made up your mind to take his offer, but not without teasing him a little first.

His tongue presses into his cheek, his jaw visibly tightening. "You really want me to get on my knees and beg?"

You purse your lips, barely containing a laugh at his irritated expression. "God, no. Take a joke, dude."

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he replies, as you see his right eye twitch. “Anyway, will you help me or not?” He crosses his arms, shifting his weight in annoyance, the frustration clear on his face.

You heave a loud sigh. "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today." You almost surprise yourself with your willingness to agree to this.

His face lights up as he realizes you are going to help him. "Thank you." He gives you a light pat on the head before walking towards the door.

"Uh, excuse me?" You raise an eyebrow at him. That’s it? Was he just going to leave with no other context?

He looks back at you cocking his head to the side, his hand already on the doorknob. "What?"

"Are there any terms and conditions I should be aware of?" You shift your weight from one leg to another, slightly uncomfortable and irritated.

He pauses, giving you a once-over before a smug smirk spreads across his face. “Don’t actually fall in love with me, alright?”

You wrinkle your nose at him, a look of pure disgust crossing your face. "Yeah, that’s pretty easy. Don't worry about that." Good to know he doesn't like you in that way, I guess.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound smooth and a little too confident; he raises his hands in defense. "Hey, I'm just saying I’ve had girls fall in love with me for way less."

You roll your eyes, an annoyed scoff escaping your lips. “God, you’re such a prick. Let me out of the bathroom—now.” He opens the door and steps aside, motioning for you to go first. “Oh, wait. Hold on.”

Jungkook looks at you suspiciously, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "What is it now?" You take a piece of paper from your bag and write down your number.

“If you need me this week, here’s my number. And after the week is over, make sure to delete it, Mr. Boyfriend.” You hand him the slip of paper, blowing him a kiss in your usual goodbye fashion before turning and heading off to class.

His hand wraps around your wrist for the second time. “Hold on—I want to set some ground rules actually,” he snaps, clearly annoyed.

"Well, you can talk and walk then because you will make me late for class." You growl back.

“So, other than not falling in love with you, what other rules are there?” you hiss, rubbing your wrist in annoyance as he finally lets go. He has a bad habit of grabbing you. You take a mental note.

Jungkook holds up his fingers, counting off each rule as he lists them. “One: no falling in love with me, duh. Two: no doing anything too intimate—no kissing or anything, just holding hands and cuddling. Three: be a convincing ‘girlfriend’; pretend to be all lovey-dovey and stuff.” The way he sounds so confident that you might fall in love with him really pisses you off.

“Well, I also have some rules,” you say with a smirk, mimicking him as you list yours. “One: no falling in love with me. Two: you can only touch my hands, arms, and head; if you touch anywhere else, I’ll break your hand. Three: try not to be insufferable to be around.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “What the hell? I’m going to be insufferable? Don’t insult me like that! I’m charming to be around!”

You laugh, giving him a playful pat on the head. “Sure you are, sweetie.” Pausing in front of your classroom, you add, “See you later, Mr. Boyfriend.” You blow him a teasing kiss before heading inside.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll text you later,” he grumbles. Glancing back, you catch him adjusting his hair with a mildly annoyed expression.

You sat through your first class, barely registering anything the professor said. It wasn’t because of your new fake boyfriend but the excitement about band practice with Yoongi and Taehyung after such a long break. This was your fourth time out of the hospital this year. Any surge of stress or excitement left you fainting. Ever since your parents passed a few years back, those intense emotions have felt like too much to handle. You just wanted to sing with your friends again, to feel free—even if only for a while—without worrying about what tomorrow might bring.

After several mind-numbing classes, you barely paid attention to, three o'clock finally arrived—band practice time. You practically bolted out of class, but of course, things couldn’t be that easy. You ran face-first into Jungkook’s chest. Glaring up at him while rubbing your nose, you huffed, “What the hell, dude?”

He looks down at you, flashing a smug grin and raising an eyebrow. “What? I just came to pick up my girlfriend after her classes were over.” He emphasizes girlfriend, making sure everyone nearby hears him.

Oh, for the love of—. You can practically feel your classmates’ eyes boring into you.

Realizing that the fake relationship is officially underway, you slip your arm through his, pulling it close to your chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, baby!” you say, flashing him an exaggeratedly sweet smile. To your annoyance, his arm feels softer than you’d expected. Why does that irritate you more?

Jungkook glances down at you, trying and almost failing to hide a scoff at your sudden shift in tone. “Glad to see you’re taking this seriously,” he mutters, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

You give his arm a sharp pinch, making him flinch. “Let’s go, honey!” you say with a forced cheeriness, dragging him around the corner and away from the gawking eyes in the classroom. The moment you’re out of sight, your smile drops, and you scowl up at him. “Don’t ever surprise me like that again, Jungkook.”

He quickly pulls his arm free, rubbing the spot where you pinched him. “You know, if I’d known you were this mean, maybe I’d have asked someone else to play ‘girlfriend.’” He frowns, looking down at you with a mix of irritation and amusement.

“Maybe you should have done that, then,” you say, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, sweet as sugar but laced with sarcasm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have band practice.” As you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist, pulling you back to face him. You glare at him, hissing, “You really have a bad habit of grabbing me.”

He quickly releases your wrist, holding his hands up in mock apology. “Sorry. I was just curious about your practice—I didn’t know you were into music, let alone in a band.” His eyes light up and glitter with excitement. His eyes light up with genuine excitement, and for a moment, you pause. Why does he seem so interested? But you don’t have time to unpack it.

“Yes, I am,” you reply coolly, stepping back. “And because of your little stunt, I’m going to be late. So, I’ll catch you later.”

You turn to walk away, but then pause, glancing over your shoulder with a narrowed gaze. “Don’t you dare follow me,” you warn, your tone sharp.

You make a few turns, and with each step, you glance back—Jungkook isn’t behind you. You let out a quiet sigh of relief before pushing open the door to the spare classroom. As soon as you step inside, the annoyed glares of your bandmates, Min Yoongi and Kim Taehyung, hit you. They're already looking at you like you’ve committed a crime for being late.

“Late, again,” Yoongi mutters, glancing from his watch back to you with an expression of mild disbelief. “You’re really going to be late on your first day back to practice? You have a bad habit of that.”

Taehyung groans loudly, throwing his head back in mock exasperation. “You’re late again! What is it with you and time?”

You wince, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, yeah, Yoongi. Thanks for the reminder this morning,” you reply with a roll of your eyes before giving Taehyung a playful glare. “And thanks for the moral support, Tae.”

You can’t help but laugh at their irritation. “Alright, alright, I swear, this time I’ve actually got a good reason.”

Yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes. "What, what was so important that you were late for band practice?" His gaze is intense, a sharp contrast to the concern that’s barely hidden beneath his irritation. While his words are harsh, you know better than anyone that Yoongi could never truly be angry with you over something so small.

"Apparently, I have a boyfriend now." You smile, crossing your arms as you glance between both boys.

Taehyung and Yoongi exchange a look before turning back to you, both clearly confused. "You have a what?" they ask in unison.

You double over, laughing at their stunned expressions. “Jungkook is paying me to pretend to be his girlfriend for a week.”

They both stare at you in disbelief and after a beat, Taehyung finally breaks the silence. “So… he’s paying you to be his fake girlfriend?” he repeats, almost as if to confirm he heard you right.

"Yup! Now we can get some better equipment." You glance at Yoongi's shabby drum set with a raised eyebrow.

Your chest tightens, remembering why he’s stuck with that old kit in the first place. He had to quit his part-time job just to help you keep it together—your mess became his responsibility. I have to do something for him in return.

Yoongi sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's already regretting being involved in this conversation. “Only you would agree to something as strange and weird as that. This better not blow up in your face,” he says, his voice a mix of exasperation and a hint of unspoken concern.

“Oh, please. Like you wouldn’t come running to save me if it came down to it.” You fold your arms dramatically and tilt your head with mock defiance. “You need your vocalist, after all.”

Yoongi snorts. "I’m just saying, this dude sounds like a creep."

"Oh, he definitely is. The most popular guy in school picks one of the only punk girls to pretend to be his girlfriend?” You laugh. “ AT LEAST I’m getting paid.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and leans back, folding his arms as he drops onto the drum stool with a grunt. “Of course, you’re getting paid. That’s the only way you’d agree to pretend to be his girlfriend.” He drums his fingers on the edge of the kit, clearly irritated.

Taehyung blinks, shaking his head like he’s snapping out of a trance. "Wait, how much is he paying you?"

“Oh my god, I forgot to ask!” Your jaw drops, and you slap a hand to your forehead in disbelief. Of course, you forgot.

Yoongi sighs, mirroring your gesture with his own hand against his forehead. “Of course you did. I’m not even surprised. Did you at least establish any rules with him?”

“Obviously!” You roll your eyes, counting off on your fingers. “Rule one: he’s not allowed to fall in love with me. Rule two: he can only touch my hands, arms, and head. And rule three: he cannot, under any circumstances, be insufferable to be around.”

Taehyung and Yoongi exchange a wary glance; eyebrows raised, clearly questioning your sanity.

You let out a small huff. “His rules? I can’t fall for him; we’re keeping it strictly PG, and I actually have to convince people I’m a real girlfriend.” How am I supposed to even be convincing? He better have a plan.

"So, all that’s going to happen is you hold hands and… No kissing?" Yoongi’s voice is casual, but there’s a hint of tension as he asks, looking visibly relieved when you confirm it.

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, raising an eyebrow. "Hell no," you scoff, rolling your eyes for emphasis. "I’d rather die than kiss him!" You scrunch your face in disgust. "Plus, he can’t get all touchy either—he’s got clear boundaries: head, arms, and hands only."

Yoongi sighs, clearly relieved. "Well, thank god for that. But isn’t it gonna be weird for you? Pretending to be in a relationship with some popular ass guy?"

"Oh no, it’s totally weird!" You scoff, shaking your head as the memory of this morning’s interaction floods back. "I still can’t believe he told me not to fall in love with him. Like, are you kidding me? Fucking ridiculous."

Taehyung’s fingers still over the strings of his guitar for a moment before resuming, the sound soft and almost hesitant. His voice is quieter than usual. "What if you actually do fall in love, though?"

The room falls deathly silent. You and Yoongi both freeze mid-motion, your eyes snapping to Taehyung as though he’s just spoken some forbidden truth. "Are you serious?" Yoongi’s voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and disbelieving, but there’s a weight to it, a subtle threat of unease.

Taehyung leans back slightly, meeting your gaze with an unsettling steadiness. There’s no playful quirk of his lips, no teasing spark in his eyes like he usually has. "What? It happens," he says plainly, his tone disarmingly calm. "People fall in love when they least expect it."

A chill snakes down your spine, cold and unrelenting, rooting you to the spot. The blood drains from your face, leaving you lightheaded. "Don't make me sick, Tae," you snap, but your voice betrays you—lower and unsteady.

Yoongi shifts in his seat. His usual nonchalant expression falters, replaced by something harder to read—something taut and uncomfortable. He clears his throat, his voice rough and clipped as he tries to steer the moment back to safer ground. "Enough of this crap," he mutters, his tone almost forceful. "We have work to do. Let’s get focused."

The weight in the room lingers a moment longer, thick and suffocating, before the soft hum of Taehyung’s guitar strings eases back in. But the tension doesn’t dissipate entirely—it hangs there, unspoken and unresolved, like a shadow neither of you are ready to face.

You all drop the topic of Jungkook and dive into band practice. Hours fly by, and it isn’t until the fading light outside catches your eye that you realize how late it’s gotten. Yoongi and Taehyung start packing up their equipment, while you gulp down some water, trying to cool the dryness in your throat. "Good job today, guys!" you say, grinning.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he slings his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, you did good too, even though you were late—like always." He smirks, clearly waiting for your response.

You shoot him a playful glare. "I told you I had a good reason, didn’t I?"

Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. "Pretending to be in a fake relationship with the most popular guy in school is not a good enough reason to excuse being late to band practice."

You pout at Taehyung, exaggerating the quiver of your bottom lip. “I’m sorry. Could you ever forgive me?” You clasp your hands together, blinking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Taehyung has always been the softer one with you, and you know exactly how to play your cards.

Taehyung immediately bursts into laughter, clutching his chest in mock pain. “How could I ever stay mad at you? You’re way too cute when you’re apologizing,” he says, grinning wide.

You can’t help but smile back, the warmth in his expression settling over you like a hug. I hope Tae knows how much he really means to me. He always knows how to brighten the mood, even when I probably don’t deserve it.

Yoongi snorts from behind his drum kit, his eyes narrowing as he leans back with his arms crossed. “Cute? More like manipulative,” he deadpans. “You’re always asking to be forgiven. Here’s an idea—just show up on time for once, and maybe we won’t have to keep forgiving you.”

“Hey!” You whirl on him, hands on your hips. “I said I was sorry! You’re so grumpy, Yoongi. I swear, you act like being two minutes late is a crime against humanity.”

“It’s never just two minutes,” Yoongi retorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “And being on time is the bare minimum.”

“Hardass,” Taehyung mutters, shaking his head as he smacks Yoongi lightly on the arm. “Cut her some slack. She had a long day. Besides, it’s not like you’ve never been late before.”

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You two are impossible.”

You flash them both a radiant smile, stepping toward the door with a little bounce in your step. “I’ll try my best tomorrow,” you promise with faux sincerity, throwing a playful kiss over your shoulder as you reach for the handle. “Goodnight, boys!”

“Don’t trip on the way out!” Yoongi calls after you, shaking his head, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Once the door swings shut behind you, the room grows quiet, the faint echo of your laughter fading into the hallway. Taehyung’s playful demeanor softens, his fingers fidgeting with the pick in his hand. He glances at Yoongi, his voice lowering. “Do you think she’s okay?”

Yoongi looks at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he lets out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admits, his tone quieter, heavier. “But you know how she is. She won’t say anything until it’s too late. She never does.”

Taehyung nods solemnly, a shadow of concern flickering in his eyes. “I just... I don’t want her to burn herself out. She’s already got enough going on without adding this whole thing with Jungkook.”

Yoongi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m worried, too, Tae. But you know her. Once she’s made up her mind, there’s no stopping her.”

They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared concern hanging in the air. Finally, Yoongi pushes himself to his feet, grabbing his bag. “Come on. We can’t do much about it tonight. Let’s get out of here.”

Taehyung lingers for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on the door where you’d just disappeared, before slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder and following Yoongi out. The two of them walk out into the night, their unspoken worry trailing behind them like a shadow.

Once you arrive home, you start getting ready for bed. As you’re removing your makeup and slipping into your pajamas, your phone buzzes on the nightstand. After climbing into bed, you grab your phone and check the message.

Unknown number:

Hey. It's Jungkook.

You hesitate for a moment before saving his name and number in your contacts, then finally respond.

You:

Before you can even lock your phone, another text comes through.

Jungkook:

Just wanted to make sure this is the right number lol 👍

You roll your eyes, setting your phone down as you start to drift off to sleep. But just as you begin to relax, another buzz from your phone jolts you awake. You groan and check it again.

Jungkook:

Wait, don’t leave me on read, I swear I have a good reason for texting at this late at night!

You:

What is your reason then?

He takes a moment longer to respond than usual, and just as you’re about to put your phone down, a new message pops up.

Jungkook:

I just wanted to talk to my 'girlfriend', can’t I do that? 🥴

You scoff at your phone, your thumb hovering over the screen as you debate whether or not to respond.

You:

well boyfriend if there isn’t anything to talk about then I’m going to bed

Jungkook:

But there is something to talk about, it’s about us 😏

You can physically feel yourself cringe at his message.

You:

what about us darling?

Jungkook:

We need to establish some more rules, there’s something we didn’t talk about this afternoon

You:

go on

Jungkook:

We never talked about public displays of affection. Hand holding is fine but we need to establish how much physical contact is gonna be allowed

You:

Why do we need to do PDA? I figured I would just meet your parents and then we are all good

Jungkook:

They tease me all the time for never seeing the same girl twice.

Jungkook:

They think something is wrong with me and I can’t keep a girl

You re-read his message a few times and think it over before finally responding.

You:

I thought this was for your parents not your friends

This time, his response takes longer. The text bubble pops up and disappears a few times before his message finally comes through.

Jungkook:

I mean yeah, but I need to show my friends also soooo, how’s a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, and having my arm around your shoulders?

You:

that’s fine but don’t get too carried away because i wasn’t joking about breaking your hand

Jungkook:

Wow you’re brutal, I’ll make sure to not do anything that’s too much for you, how could I possibly scare away my fake girlfriend, right? 😏

You groan and your fingers circle your keyboard a few times, frustrated, before you type out another message.

You:

I have a question for you boyfriend

Not even a second passes before he responds.

Jungkook:

Shoot

You:

Why did you pick the one punk girl in school to be your fake girlfriend?

Jungkook takes a while to respond, and just as you're about to lock your phone, it lights up again with his message.

Jungkook:

Well, you’re the only girl that’s attractive at this school that isn’t popular, plus, I’ve been lowkey obsessed with punk girls

You scrunch your face as if you just had a lemon shoved in your mouth.

You:

Gross.

He texts back immediately, his words seemingly laced with offense.

Jungkook:

What do you mean gross? Whats wrong with loving punk girls?

You’re done with the back-and-forth and decide to leave him on read. You lock your phone and set it down, only for it to light up again a few minutes later with another message from him.

Jungkook:

Oh hell no, don’t ignore me, don’t leave me of read again, I know you’re awake, answer me

Jungkook:

Don’t ignore me

Jungkook:

I know you’re awake

Jungkook:

I’ll continue to spam you if you don’t answer me

Jungkook:

punk

You can’t help but laugh at his irritation, finally deciding to send him one last message.

You:

I need my beauty rest, I’ll see you tomorrow 🖕

Jungkook:

Wow, that’s a mean response to your boyfriend, whatever happened to being all lovey dovey with me? 💔

You turn off his notifications and lock your phone, placing it face down on the table, finally allowing yourself to sleep.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is still sitting up in bed, hunched over his phone. He stares at the screen in disbelief. "Is she serious? How can she just stop responding to me?!" He continues to spam your phone with messages a few more times before he finally realizes you're no longer reading them. With a frustrated huff, he sends one final message.

Jungkook:

Whatever, goodnight 'girlfriend'

Next Chapter

©Candyshin00 '24

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fiction #jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #fuckboy!jungkook

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zoropookie · 7 months ago

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hi this is something i wrote in 2021

By all means and by all accounts, you are an exceptionally adept human being. What else is there to expect being born and raised in Liyue? Your extensive knowledge branched out into other categories and subcategories related to the likes of Teyvat's advanced agricultural needs and expositions. The proficiency you carry of mass flourishes into honor and pride for yourself.

With that being said, when it comes to unfamiliarity, there was only so much you could do as a local delivery person. Social interaction has never been your forte either, making you extremely agitated in the process. Perhaps maybe the only environment you could get used to was your home. Maybe that was okay.

You carried full acknowledgement on your coward persona, holding equal respect for patrollers and ther Millieth. Knowledge never equalled to willfulness, willfulness accentuated your price, and bold of anyone to assume your pride wasn't able to stem from elsewhere.

So when your own father practically fed you to the wolves (term used loosely— as if the wolves would eat someone as bitter as you) … you had to admit, your pride fell gobsmacked.

“I don’t know if you realize this, but…Qingce Village is two, almost three thousand kilometers away and you expect me to walk? On my hind legs?” Your eyes rose quizzically. “Why can’t you do it? Since you’re so eager for the seeds to get there.”

Your father sat there in mild disbelief as you examined his inability; he was still waiting for his broken arm to heal. “Uh, I don’t know, (Y/N). I could just be unwilling.”

“That is a very good observation! You are unwilling because of your incapability! It makes me certain that I must be at your aid in these trying times,” You grinned, proudly. “It looks to be an inconvenience, but what can we do?”

“If I didn’t pay close attention to your cheek, I’d fall for your manipulation.” The older male’s eyebrows furrow, until they started showing fatigue. “Except I am your father, and I know who my child and what their rotten ways are.”

Your face twisted instantly to a scowl. “Perhaps you should invest in mind reading rather than specializing in delivery, you seem capable.”

“I am choosing to ignore your qualms for your own safety.” He interrupted you, sitting in the wooden seat of his logged and bricked interior.

The conceptual probability that you would believe the fireplace serves in the home is concerning— let alone when it is set alight. “This is an easy feat for you, given that you only have to walk across the bridge and take the path. Complications are limited, I’m unsure as to your hesitance.”

“Father,” Your harsh voice added emphasis to your tone. “There…are scary things out there.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, (Y/N).”

“I’m not being ridiculous, I am actually being completely rational about it.” You ground your teeth together.

You settled your wooden cart filled with imported seeds and other sorts of processed jams stored in as a gratuitous gift. There was no other further complication that could’ve combat your inert torturous loop than also having to pull the many cartridges of imported seeds within a single cart. A cart that rendered your feeble arms useless. Everything was heavy, and because of your impeding zeal, it’s practically resulted in your strength being latent and quiescent.

“Brilliant.” Frustrated, you looked at the bundles of comfortable fabric placed neatly on top of some of the boxes. In accommodation to the chilled breeze that only proves to become worse annd haste of sudden petrichor surrounding the thick air, you hastily pulled the cart.

In immense struggle, you weren’t surprised when you started to feel cold pellets drip on your head. The rain began initially as a light and soft drizzle but it quickly turned into a violent, raging downpour. The path instantly becoming muddy and slick, making it impossible to pull the cart.

You were in a chill, the breeze cutting through your layers of clothes and it led you to curse under your breath as you trudged forward.

But even with the digressions you were complaining about silently to yourself, you couldn’t help but feel like something was ominous in the wind. A sharp, unnatural chill cut through the air around you with such ease that you wondered if you were growing looney.

Something materialized behind you, and even though you were a fool to look, you also knew that you had no choice. That...thing, that mage's eyes glowed malevolently. With an intent as bitter as any crook, it began chanting in a language you couldn't decipher.

“Watch out!” A voice shouted towards you.

Though, you hardly had time to react to the unknown voice before a barrage of ice shards was sent hurtling toward you. Feeling your own body be sent into pure adrenaline, your breath caught in your throat as you ducked behind the cart, feeling the impact of the ice stabbing relentlessly against the wood.

Its laughter echoed in bowels of enjoyment, "Pathetic mound of a human," it hissed. "Survival is the farthest from you."

You scrambled to your feet, unruly looking while the nagging adrenaline surged through your body. You were frozen in place while the mage wasted no time launching another attack. You were in for it until you hardly recognized the blur that appeared in your vision for a split second.

A figure leaped out of the trees, landing rather gracefully between you and the Abyss Mage. "Now, now, you really need to leave the villagers alone before I start kicking you around. You're like a little ball to me!" He drawled slowly, a playful glint in his eyes. He began laughing at the thought of it, before piping down once it was silence. "Haa...I get bored easily."

The Abyss Mage hardly found any humor in it especially, eyes narrowing in anger as it hissed. It launched another attack, and another, and another.

But even with the valiant efforts, he moved with fluid grace, effortlessly continuing to deflect any attacks that were attempted. His movements becoming more eager, and happy. "You're going to have to do better than that! Try actually landing your shots!" He taunted.

Once he closed the distance between them, his eyes paired with his smirk began to look a little conceived with power. Bloodthirsty, as his eyes lost the youth they had and was replaced with a carcass of that same glee. "Well, I guess it's kind of too late for that now. Good run, now it's my turn."

The ginger had that mage on the defensive in seconds, rendering all the efforts that mage made to be useless. It was unable to keep up with his relentless assault, and he shattered the icy shield, driving his blade through the core as it let out a strangled and helpless cry.

You watched it dissolve into frost, eyes narrowing awkwardly towards the man who was flicking the liquid-like blades of his clean before turning to you. His expression was still void, sizing you up before a softer expression dawned on his face.

"You know," he paused, sheathing his weapons. "You really shouldn't go without at least a weapon if you're thinking about being a delivery person."

You frowned, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't exactly plan on getting ambushed every time I do this, thank you."

"You're welcome! Man, finally someone who's actually grateful for my services around here." His eyes widened, waving off your sarcasm casually. "I'm Childe!"

You hesitated for a moment, remembering that the reputation of the Fatui was nothing you want to be around according to your father. And by the looks of this guy, you couldn't be sure whether he's saving random villagers to talk them up or not. "I don't speak to strangers."

Childe's mouth twitched. "Ha— what?"

"I have to go," You pulled yourself up with the cart. "Very important seeds to sell."

As you started to push the cart with the lack of strength you had, the man who had previously saved you from an Abyss Mage watched you push it with so much nothing...that he started to feel bad. Especially since in the five minutes that you were lugging that heavy cart, did you only make it two singular meters forward.

"Listen," He couldn't keep his laugh in. "I'm starting to feel bad for you. At least let me get you there, and I'm gone. Okay?"

"And what about this makes you believe I can't do this on my own? Enlighten me." You stood up straight to face him after putting the cart down, demanding him as you put your hands on your waist, awaiting him to speak.

He puffed his cheeks out to keep himself from laughing in your face. "Can I make an educated guess?"

You stared at him in disbelief, a scowl on your face before you huffed in defeat, crossing your arms. "To Qingce Village, and that's it, Harbinger. No funny business."

"Scout's honor!" Childe saluted, grabbing the cart with both hands and effortlessly pulling it out of the steep, muddy hole you trapped it in. You ground your teeth again from how easy he made it seem maneuvering it. "Can I knit you a sweater too?"

"I do not want to be associated with you."

#zoropookie

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yuncheoligans · 1 year ago

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Oh, Nurse!

Demon! Yoon Jeonghan x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's friends think you can't dress up for Halloween, maybe this year you shut them up and win the annual contest.

Genre: Demons, Halloween Costume Party, Fantasy, Fluff, Friendly Competition

Warnings: Suggestive Conversations, Reader has some insecurities that are touched on, Language

~~Collab Piece with @nebulousbrainsoup~~ Here (Go check out theirs!)

a/n: This is my very first Seventeen piece!!! I'm so excited! I've been wanting to write for them for a while now but I never had any good ideas....ironically S.Coups is my bias. Also, this turned into one of my first like solo collab pieces, and yeah. I have some really cool friends. also, @nebulousbrainsoup thanks for editing and overall listening to me ramble. <3 <3 HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

~Masterlist~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hadn’t really planned on a couple’s costume with Jeonghan, nor had I planned on wearing something so…sexy, but when BooSeokSoon announced their annual Halloween party I had to go. And of course the boys had to bring up that I’d never wear something so scandalous..oh how wrong they were. When my demon boyfriend of two years had mentioned he wanted to dress up as a doctor he asked if I would join him. I wanted to surprise him though so I threw him off saying my best friend was gonna be a Tiger and saying I was Soonyoung. He laughed at the thought and nodded saying we’d for sure win the costume contest this year instead of Junhui.

It’s not that I CAN’T dress up, it’s that I don’t want to if I’m just picking him up or hanging out at his place. I have before, he bought a few very nice lingerie sets and we’ve gone out to dinner before at some very nice places but I like cuddling on the couch in pajamas and being comfortable.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” the text read on my phone.

“No I’ll meet you there Doctor.” I replied with a winky face. I ordered an Uber while pulling on the white lace thigh highs completing the look.

If there was one thing about a party at BooSeokSoon’s there was going to be drinking, drinking games, karaoke, and real fun time, you know…for it being in hell. My Uber driver’s eyes practically bugged out of his head when I threw on my coat to combat the chilled air of the autumnal season. It was a sexy costume but nothing too revealing, a mini dress, thigh highs and the cheesy headwear, cleavage just tastefully poking out. I was nothing if not classy while proving my friends wrong. I check my heels and makeup one more time making sure I won’t break anything, including my ankle, on the walk up to the townhome, and of course no red lipstick on the teeth. You know how magic works, presentable on the outside portal to hell on the inside.

Seungkwan opens the door for me and he’s casual…until I take off the coat I’m wearing.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah Kwan?” I look at the man whose jaw is on the floor.

“JEONGHAN YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS HERE!!!!” Hoshi called out, coming around the corner and freezing. “Holy fuck.” he whispered.

“Hi boys.” I smiled and walked past them into the living room where the real party had started. “Paging Doctor Yoon.” I called out to the man who was still turned away from me, two drinks in his hand.

“I see my little tiger has made…it.” his eyes widened.

He dropped the drinks on the floor once turned fully. He’d promised to clean them up later but I think he forgot.

“Fuck y/n. That you darling?” he asked, biting his lip and spinning me lightly to get a good look at the outfit.

“The one and only.” I smiled and kissed his cheek leaving an imprint on his cheek.

“I’m never washing that off.” he smiled down at me, taking a peek at my cleavage. “And to what do I owe the pleasure nurse y/n?”

“Well since your friends think I’d never wear something like this, because your oversized shirts are comfortable…I thought I’d surprise you. And look! Couples costumes.”

“You are just full of surprises, and here I was telling everyone you and Soonyoung were gonna match.”

“It’s why I didn’t want you picking me up Hannie.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “Get me a drink?”

“Anything you want beautiful.” he smiled.

To say I had stunned just about every one of the demons was an understatement. All of them had dropped jaw and dry mouth it seemed. I was a little self-conscious with all the eyes now on me but I knew if I was ever uncomfortable there was Dr. Yoon next to me.

“You know, even after 2 years when I think I have you figured out..you always manage to surprise me.” Jeonghan had chuckled into my ear.

“2 years isn’t that long Hannie.” I took his hand as he lead me to the dance floor.

“Then I can’t wait to see what 20 and beyond look like.” he smiled and cupped my face to kiss me, a few whoops and hollers coming from those around us. “Looks like you stole my breath might need CPR Nurse.” he smiled.

“Oh really, normally people who are choking don’t talk.” I looked at him.

“Oh? Choking? No not me, you later perhaps though.” he winked and kissed me again.

“You know they say office romance doesn’t work out very well.”

“Good thing this is make believe darling. You’re stuck with me for a very long time…especially now that the guys have seen what should’ve been for my eyes only.”

“Blame them, they said I couldn’t do it.”

“I’m not blaming anyone if I get to see you like this.” he smiled.

Soonyoung had brought drinks around while people were dancing and that seemed to really get the party started, it was practically a frat party in hell at this point. Soonyoung always threw the most elaborate things for having a tiger on the brain. Then in walked Jeonghan’s biggest competition. His brother in arms. Jisoo, or Joshie.

“Hi Joshie!” I squealed and hugged him. “Is your partner around?”

“They’re putting up their coat.”

“I see, no costume again this year?” Jeonghan looked at his twin.

“Oh no we’re doing an angel devil look, they’re of course the angel. And what are you supposed to be?” Joshua’s eyes flashed red.

“A doctor.”

“What do you know about saving people, Jeonghan?”

“It’s called a costume for a reason, besides look at my lovely assistant aren’t they just…delicious.”

“I must say y/n, you know how to surprise us for sure. Never would’ve thought you were one to wear something like this.” he smiled and spun me around gently.

For demons they sure are sweet talkers hmm. Look it’s not my fault you have to give into temptation a little bit.

“We gotta win this year honey.” Jeonghan pulled me into him slightly as I took another drink.

“Hmm? Don’t want to lose to Joshua again?” I chuckled looking up at him.

“Again? Oh no no I never lose to Joshua.”

“Not my fault you voted for Soonyoung’s tiger last year.”

“I didn’t actually think he would WIN.” he pouted.

“Come on the contest doesn’t start for another hour. Let’s have a little fun.” I pulled him along.

The party was in full swing by the time the costume parade was starting, of course the boys and their partners were participating if they could. Wonwoo and his partner were both black cats…not by his choice of course. Seokmin and Seungkwan were Superman and Lois Lane….Seokmin was Lois Lane. Jihoon was a DJ...so on and so forth.

“Gyu what are you even talking about?” I laughed at hearing the man get lost in his train of thought again.

“I don’t even think he knows at this point Jagiya.” Jeonghan snuck up behind me again, his hands finding purchase on my waist. “Mind if I whisk you away your cheeks are looking a little flushed, my nurse, need to make sure you don’t faint on me.” he smiles.

“Oh I’m fine Hannie.” I pout, my words a tiny bit stumbled from the alcohol coursing slowly through my system but he guides me outside calmly and quietly.

“Did you really do this because the guys teased you about not dressing up more?”

“What they said I wouldn’t wear anything revealing or sexy for halloween.” I pout more.

“I’m just saying is this to prove them wrong or give yourself a confidence boost, you always said you didn’t like being the center of attention.” he brushed my hair back. “I’m definitely fine with you showing off for Halloween and the like, I love it when you let yourself relax.” he smiled.

“Oh sure be sweet and kind now.” I held his hand. “I don’t know…I think I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do it too. I’m not the most comfortable with myself sometimes but you tell me to try it out more…why not halloween.” I shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to look nice for you.”

“For me? Baby you always look absolutely delightful. Hard to keep my hands to myself.” he smiled.

“Jeonghan…you know what I mean.”

“And I’m telling the truth. I’ve never minded how you dress or anything, because you’re always you…my little bear.” he smiled and kissed me. “But I do like little surprises.”

“Keep sweet talking me and it’ll be a big surprise later Dr. Yoon.” I stuck my tongue out. “Come on I’m actually starving and there’s pizza….it’s also kinda cold out here.” I pulled him back inside.

“Oh Nurse, you’re going to get me in so much trouble one of these days.” he laughed.

“I thought trouble was your middle name.” I smiled.

“ALRIGHT! TIME FOR THE VOTING AND RANKINGS!” BooSeokSoon called out. “ONE VOTE PER PERSON AND IF YOU’RE A PAIR ONLY ONE OF YOU CAN VOTE FOR YOURSELVES!!!”

“Ready to lose again Jeonghan?” Joshua smiled.

“If I remember last year we had 6 votes and you had 5.” Jeonghan smiled.

“Doesn’t beat that Soonyoung got 12.” they both chuckled.

“I didn’t think that many people were gonna vote for sexy tiger man.” they laughed more at the thought.

“Don’t forget he has to present the winner this year, and you know how he gets about stage fright.”

“Hanniehae!” I called out finding them. “It’s our turn to vote!”

“Well I know who I’m voting for.” he smiled finding my hand as I reached out for him.

“I’m voting for Wonwoo and his partner, I like their cute cat ears.”

“He only has on cat ears, babe. He can literally turn into a cat.”

“Yeah but he has such a cute smile.” I smiled at my very own demon boyfriend.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve been bothering me for a cat for 6 months.”

“They’re cute and cuddly!!!”

“And you’re allergic.” he chuckled and wrote down our names and put it in the box.

“Fine maybe I’ll vote for Soonyoung again.”

“Do you want to lose? I need to keep my beat Joshua streak.”

“Oh you take it way too serious.” I chuckled and wrote down Wonwoo’s name and we left the “booth.” it was just the first floor bathroom with a curtain and a sign that said “private voting.”

Now I know what you’re thinking, who will count these fairly and not forge any for themselves. Our very own father figure, Seungcheol…well and Vernon and Junhui. And you’d think that demons could enchant the box right? Wrong…they take it WAY too serious…they got a special box from a witch that can’t be tampered with..unless you have the key. I mean not every plan is fool proof.

“Well Doctor…better luck next year.” I smiled at him as Minghao raised the trophy in triumph and the crowd called out for a speech.

“Man I thought we really had it this year.” he smiled and shook his head.

“Well I think you look great.”

“I could say the same for you Nurse Y/n.”

“Did we at least beat Joshie again this year?”

“Of couse we did, and by always…one vote.” he sighed. “Maybe next year we can do Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy.”

“Only is you find us an invisible boat-mobile.” I laughed at the thought.

“You’d look pretty hot in a body suit and pink fuzzy slippers.” he chuckled as we made our way outside.

“Oh are you saying I’m Mermaid Man?”

“Of course, I’m just your humble sidekick.” he kissed me once for good luck and twice because he felt like it. “And in a few years when you’re old and gray we can be the couple from Up. We better win before that though.”

“You sure we’ll still be together by then Jeonghan?”

“Oh I know we will be. I’m not letting you go anytime soon darling.” he smiled and ran in front of me. “Oh Nurse! I believe I need…CPR…For real.” he said laying down on the sidewalk and reaching a hand up.

“Choking people don’t talk Hannie.” I laughed.

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fic #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x y/n #yoon jeonghan x you #collab piece

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the-reader-insert-gazette · 2 months ago

Text

Beyond the Charade - F!Reader x Balthus von Albrecht

Fire Emblem - Three Houses (Time Skip)

To evade relentless matchmaking from friends and family, Reader and Balthus von Albrecht agree to fake a romantic relationship.

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The chill of winter clung to Garreg Mach Monastery, seeping through its ancient stone walls as [Name] made her way through the dimly lit corridors. The monastery, once brimming with activity, now carried an air of quiet resilience. It had become the resistance's bastion, a gathering place for those determined to reclaim their lands from the Empire's grip. [Name], now a professor of combat strategy and black magic, found herself at the center of it all.

But tonight, strategy was far from her mind.

Her boots clicked against the stone floor as she made her way to the training grounds, needing to burn off the frustration that had been simmering since dinner. It had been another one of those evenings. Hilda’s conspiratorial smirks, Claude’s pointed comments about "the perfect political match," and even Lorenz’s insufferable suggestions about how she could “enhance her station” by aligning herself with a noble house—it was all too much.

The constant prying into her personal life felt suffocating, like a vice tightening around her. She’d spent years clawing her way out of the shadows of other people’s expectations, and yet here she was again, being scrutinized for her “duty” rather than her choices.

When she reached the training grounds, she stopped short. Someone was already there.

Balthus von Albrecht was in the middle of his evening routine, driving his fists into a makeshift punching bag with rhythmic precision. His shirt lay discarded on a nearby bench, leaving his broad shoulders and muscled torso gleaming in the flickering torchlight. He paused when he noticed her watching, turning with a grin that was as shameless as it was genuine.

“Well, well, look who’s sneaking out for some late-night training. What brings you here, [Name]? Couldn’t resist the sight of me in action?”

She rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “Don’t flatter yourself. I needed to get out of the dining hall before I said something I’d regret.”

“Ah, the matchmaking squad strikes again?”

“How did you guess?”

He snorted, wiping his hands on a nearby towel. “They’ve been on my case, too. Can you believe it? They want me—the King of Grappling—to settle down and play noble husband.”

[Name] folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “And how would that even work with your… financial situation?”

“Exactly! Can you picture me trying to impress some fancy family while dodging my debt collectors? Hah!” He laughed, the sound rich and unbothered, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes.

The corners of her mouth softened. Despite his easygoing demeanor, she knew Balthus carried more weight than he let on. He might joke about his debts and rough reputation, but there was a loyalty and warmth to him that had surprised her more than once.

“Anyway,” he continued, his tone light again, “what about you? Don’t tell me you’re actually considering one of those suitors.”

[Name] scoffed. “Hardly. I’ve had enough of being pushed into boxes I don’t belong in. I’m not about to let anyone decide my future for me.”

His grin widened, his amber eyes glinting with approval. “Now that’s what I like to hear. You’ve got more backbone than half the nobles I’ve met.”

An idea began to take shape in [Name]'s mind, her frustration slowly giving way to something more cunning. She glanced at Balthus, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

“What if we gave them something to talk about?”

He tilted his head, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“What if we pretended to be together? Just until they back off. It’d get the matchmakers off my back and give you a reason to dodge their lectures about settling down.”

Balthus’s eyebrows shot up, and then he threw his head back, laughing. “You want me to be your fake boyfriend? That’s bold, [Name]. I like it.”

“I’m serious,” she said, though a small smile played on her lips. “Think about it. We’d just need to act close during meetings, maybe drop a few hints, and make it convincing enough to keep everyone off our backs. No strings attached.”

He stroked his chin, pretending to mull it over. “Hmm… I dunno. What’s in it for me?”

She rolled her eyes. “The satisfaction of not being harassed about your lack of a wife?”

“Tempting, but let’s sweeten the deal,” he said with a teasing grin. “You help me out in a few sticky situations—say, backing me up in a fight or two—and I’ll play the part of your perfect fake boyfriend.”

[Name] considered it, then extended her hand. “Deal.”

He clasped her hand in his, the warmth of his grip surprising her. “Deal. This is gonna be fun.”

------

The plan worked like a charm.

At strategy meetings, Balthus made a point of sitting beside [Name], leaning back in his chair with a casual arm draped over hers. His antics were as theatrical as they were effective. Anytime a noble name came up in conversation, or someone’s matchmaking intent seemed to stray into dangerous territory, Balthus would interrupt with a playful comment.

“Now, now, don’t be giving [Name] any ideas,” he’d say, flashing a roguish grin. “She’s already got her hands full dealing with me. Isn’t that right, Sweetheart?”

[Name], though initially tempted to elbow him, learned to play along with a smirk. “Full is one way to describe it,” she’d reply dryly, earning a round of chuckles from the room.

During meals, Balthus dialed up the charm, leaning in to share private jokes that weren’t as private as they seemed.

“[Name],” he whispered loudly one evening, holding up a loaf of bread, “do you want this last piece, or should I heroically sacrifice it for you?”

She looked at him flatly, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Heroically sacrifice, of course. Just like you do on the battlefield.”

“Oh, I’m heroic in all things,” he said, dropping the bread onto her plate with a flourish. “My lady deserves the best.”

The exaggerated gallantry made Hilda squeal. “You two are so adorable! Look at him doting on you, [Name]!”

“He's not doting,” [Name] muttered, her ears burning. “he’s just being obnoxious.”

“She’s right,” Balthus agreed solemnly, though his grin gave him away. “It’s all part of my charm.”

Claude, ever the observer, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You know, Balthus, I’m impressed. I never thought you’d be the type to settle down. What’s your secret?”

Balthus leaned forward conspiratorially, as if sharing the answer to some great mystery. “It’s simple: I’ve got taste. Can’t let a gem like [Name] slip through my fingers.”

Claude raised an eyebrow at [Name], clearly expecting her to protest, but she only rolled her eyes and focused on her food.

Even Lorenz, who normally found fault with everything, begrudgingly admitted their "compatibility."

“Well,” he said, adjusting his cuffs one evening, “while your pairing is unorthodox, I must admit it has a certain... charm. Of course, proper decorum would dictate—”

“Oh, look,” Balthus cut in, tossing a grape into his mouth. “Lorenz is complimenting me. Let’s mark this day in history.”

Lorenz sniffed. “I was merely observing the obvious, though I suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“You hear that, Firebrand?” Balthus said, nudging [Name]'s shoulder. “Even Mr. Perfect over here can’t deny we’re great together.”

“Miracles never cease,” [Name] quipped, though her lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

The fake relationship brought unexpected perks beyond just deflecting unwanted attention. Balthus’s constant presence provided an easy buffer during tense discussions, and his larger-than-life personality often lightened the mood. But it also made [Name] notice things she hadn’t before.

She began to see the way he watched their allies during meetings, always ready to step in when someone looked overwhelmed. She noticed how, despite his carefree facade, he always seemed to know when morale was low and made it his mission to lift everyone’s spirits.

One night, after a particularly grueling day of planning, they sat together in the library. Balthus had claimed he was "helping" her review battle strategies, though most of his contributions involved doodling comical interpretations of their enemies on the margins of the map.

“You’re surprisingly good at that,” [Name] remarked, gesturing to a particularly exaggerated drawing of a general with a bird nesting in his helmet.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Balthus said, pretending to be offended. “I’m a man of many talents. Grappling, charming, and apparently artistic genius.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“I'll take that laugh as you agreeing with me,” he shot back, grinning.

She didn’t respond right away, and the silence that followed was oddly comfortable. For a moment, [Name] allowed herself to relax, leaning slightly against him as they stared at the map. His warmth was a steady presence beside her, and she found herself thinking that maybe this charade wasn’t so bad after all.

-----

As the weeks went on, their act became second nature. But there were moments—small, fleeting moments—that made [Name] wonder if they were still pretending. Like when Balthus brought her a cup of tea during a late-night strategy session without her asking. Or when he stepped in front of her during a skirmish, shielding her from an enemy’s attack with a ferocity that went beyond mere camaraderie.

And then there were the quieter moments, like when he caught her arm after a meeting, holding her back as the others left.

“You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern. His voice was softer than usual, lacking its typical teasing edge. The way his amber eyes studied her, searching for something beneath the surface, made [Name] hesitate.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied quickly, her tone a little too brisk. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Balthus tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. His hand, warm and steady, lingered on her arm. “I dunno. You’ve been quiet today. You’re usually putting someone in their place by now.”

Her lips twitched at the comment, but the humor didn’t stick. She sighed, the weight of the day pressing down on her. “It’s just… everything. The constant planning, the battles, the expectations. Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Balthus’s hand slid from her arm but only so he could place it over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing more than enough, [Name]. More than anyone could ask for. And if anyone says otherwise, they can answer to me.”

She looked up at him, caught off guard by his sincerity. “Thanks, Balthus. That actually means… a lot.”

His trademark grin returned, though it was softer now. “Hey, what kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t have your back?”

Her cheeks warmed, and she rolled her eyes to cover it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he quipped, but his gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he finally let her go. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before Lorenz decides to lecture us again.”

The days blended together in the chaotic rhythm of war, but those small moments between them stood out. Like the night Balthus showed up to her quarters with a tray of food, grinning sheepishly.

“You didn’t eat dinner,” he said by way of explanation, setting the tray down on her desk.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she replied, though the faint rumble of her stomach betrayed her.

“Sure, sure,” he said, pulling up a chair and gesturing for her to sit. “You’ve got to keep your strength up, Firebrand. No excuses.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously lecturing me about self-care? You, of all people?”

“Hey, I may not be perfect,” he said, winking, “but even I know you can’t fight on an empty stomach. Now eat up, or I’ll start feeding you myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

She shook her head but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re welcome,” he mused, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated air of satisfaction.

Then there was the skirmish on the outskirts of the monastery, where the Empire’s forces had launched a surprise attack. [Name] had been focused on casting a spell, her eyes locked on the advancing soldiers, when she felt a strong arm yank her backward. A split second later, an axe cleaved the air where she had been standing.

“[Name]!” Balthus barked, stepping in front of her with his gauntlets raised. He deflected the blow with a fierce growl, his movements precise and unrelenting as he forced the enemy back.

Her heart pounded as she watched him fight, the realization of how close she’d come to harm sinking in. Once the skirmish ended, she turned to him, her voice sharp with a mix of anger and worry. “What were you thinking, throwing yourself in like that?”

“What was I thinking?” he shot back, his own voice heated. “You could’ve been killed, [Name]!”

“I can handle myself!”

“I know you can,” he said, his tone softening. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stand by and watch you get hurt.”

Her anger fizzled out as quickly as it had flared. She studied him, the tension in his shoulders, the raw concern in his eyes. “Thanks,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, brushing off the blood on his gauntlets with a practiced ease. “Anytime.”

-----

The line between their act and reality blurred further with every passing day. [Name] found herself lingering when Balthus was around, drawn to his easy confidence and the way he made her laugh even when things seemed darkest. And Balthus, for all his bravado, began looking for excuses to be near her, his usual teasing tinged with something softer.

One evening, as they sat by the fire after another long day, [Name] broke the comfortable silence between them.

“Balthus,” she said, her voice hesitant, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning back against the log he’d claimed as a seat. “Shoot.”

“Why did you agree to this? Pretending to be with me, I mean. What’s in it for you now that the others have left us alone?”

He glanced at her, his usual grin absent. For a moment, he seemed to weigh his words before answering. “At first? It was just a way to get everyone off my back. But now…” He hesitated, then shrugged. “Now, I think I just like being around you.”

Her breath caught at his honesty, and she looked away, unsure how to respond. “You’re not just saying that?”

“[Name],” he said, leaning closer so she couldn’t avoid his gaze, “I don’t say things I don’t mean. Not to you.”

[Name]'s cheeks burned as she met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes unraveling her carefully maintained composure. The crackle of the fire seemed deafening in the silence that followed. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words. What could she say when the lines between their ruse and reality had already blurred so thoroughly?

Before she could untangle her thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the moment. Claude strolled into the clearing, hands casually tucked behind his head, his trademark smirk firmly in place.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teased, his sharp eyes flitting between them. “The ‘happy couple’ having a heartfelt moment by the fire? Don’t let me interrupt.”

[Name] straightened, her face flushing. “We were just talking, Claude. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Talking? Sure,” Claude said, drawing out the word as he dropped onto a nearby log. “But I’ve been around you two long enough to know when something’s changed.”

Balthus leaned back, his arms crossed, a grin tugging at his lips. “You’ve got a good imagination, buddy.”

Claude arched a brow, unconvinced. “Oh, come on. I knew your little act was fake from the start. But now? This”—he gestured between them—“this isn’t fake anymore.”

[Name]'s eyes widened, and she sputtered, “What are you talking about? It’s—”

“Save it,” Claude interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’ve been watching you two for weeks. The way he looks at you? Not fake. The way you get all flustered when he calls you ‘Sweetheart’? Definitely not fake.”

Balthus laughed, a low, rumbling sound. “You’ve got us all figured out, huh?”

Claude’s smirk softened, his tone more serious than usual. “Yeah, I do. And you’re an idiot if you keep pretending this is just some scheme.”

[Name] blinked, unsure whether to be annoyed or grateful for his bluntness. “Claude—”

“And you,” Claude cut her off, pointing at Balthus. “Just kiss her already. You’re not fooling anyone, least of all her.”

Balthus stared at him, then let out a bark of laughter. “You really know how to kill a moment, don’t you?”

Claude shrugged, his grin returning. “Consider it my good deed for the day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.”

With a mock salute, he sauntered off, leaving [Name] and Balthus alone again.

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken tension. [Name] stared at the fire, her heart pounding as she tried to process what had just happened. Finally, she dared to glance at Balthus, who was watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Well?” she asked, her voice softer than she intended.

“Well,” he repeated, leaning closer. “Claude’s got a point.”

Her breath hitched as his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Balthus…”

“[Name],” he said, his voice low and steady, “I meant what I said earlier. None of this has been fake for a long time.”

Her heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, and for once, she didn’t try to deflect or hide. Instead, she closed the distance between them, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “It hasn’t been fake for me, either.”

The grin he gave her wasn’t his usual cocky smirk—it was softer, more genuine. “Good to know.”

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t like the playful touches or exaggerated gestures they’d used to sell their act. This was real, a kiss filled with all the emotion they’d been holding back for weeks. [Name]'s hand moved to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers as he cupped her cheek, his touch warm and grounding.

When they finally broke apart, Balthus rested his forehead against hers, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “So, where do we go from here, Firebrand?”

She smiled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Wherever we want, Balthus. Together.”

He chuckled, his grin returning as he pulled her closer. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind.”

And for the first time in a long while, [Name] felt like the future might just be something worth looking forward to.

~Fin~

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I'm sorry I know there's Raphael, but Balthus is exactly my type of himbo QwQ

#fe three houses #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #balthus #balthus von albrecht #balthus x reader #reader x balthus #reader x balthus von albrecht #balthus von albrecht x reader #ashen wolves

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dixonsdarkelf · 4 months ago

Text

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Seven

Masterlist

AO3 link Wattpad link

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, alcohol consumption (nothing excessive but Vector does get tipsy to the point she's dizzy)

Word count: 2.3k

“Oh my God, Vector, you have to tell us everything now. Have you talked to him much?” Rosita asked. She was beaming. I was beginning to regret the second glass of wine, let alone the third one in my hand. I set it down on the counter behind me, afraid that if I continued, I’d say some things I didn’t want to share.

“I mean, you know him, he doesn’t really like to talk. Rick sent the two of us on a run this morning. Talked a little bit, but nothing crazy.”

“You were alone with him outside the walls?” Michonne gushed, bouncing Judith up and down on her leg. Even the little baby, though she couldn’t understand what was happening around her, looked excited for me.

“Oh shut up,” I scoffed, “like I said, it was nothing crazy. We headed out, I tried to start a conversation, he shut me down, I showed off my combat skills because Rick told him to have me “prove them,” we got the shit and talked a little on the way back.” I paused for a moment, picking up my glass and taking another sip. I had decided I would need liquid courage if I was going to make it out of this conversation alive.

“Were you flirty at all?” Rosita asked. I felt my cheeks beginning to turn red again.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” I replied, tilting my head back and consuming the rest of my glass in one swig. I set it down again, this time not going to have another one. “I may or may not have told him that he should talk more because I like his voice…and that I could listen to him talk all day. Do you think that was too much?”

I scanned the room, looking at each of my new friends. Their jaws were on the floor, their mouths upturned into giddy smiles. They kept their eyes locked on me as I adjusted myself in my seat awkwardly. I held my breath, regretting that I had shared such a piece of information with people who were practically strangers, and waited for one of them to say something, anything.

“Oh my God!” Michonne finally exclaimed. I let out the air I was holding. “Well, what did he say?”

“What I imagine is a classic Daryl response, which is nothing.” Rosita got up from her chair to get herself another glass of wine.

“What did you talk about on the way back?” she asked as she passed by me to the kitchen.

I scratched at the skin at the side of my right thumb with my index finger, a habit I often fell to when I was especially anxious. “Umm, it was short. He started it, asked me why I go by Vector. I answered and that was it.”

“Girl! That is a get-to-know-you question. Daryl doesn’t ask those. Of anyone. And he’s the one who started it,” Maggie said. She stopped, briefly looking over my shoulder at Rosita before locking eyes with me again. “What were you doing when Rosita and I got there earlier to get you?”

I took my glass, which Rosita had so kindly filled with water, and sipped at it. “How’s that relevant?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Umm, I was just chilling in my room, sitting my the window, people watching. A butterfly came along at one point and joined me. Sat on my finger for a little, then on my nose before they flew away. Why?”

“Holy fuck, she’s like a goddamn Disney princess,” Rosita commented, plunking herself back into the chair she was occupying.

“How long were you doing that for?”

“Uh, I probably sat by my window for like half a hour. The butterfly situation lasted like five minutes maybe. Then I went to get up and had a damn heart attack because I didn’t realize Daryl was there. He didn’t say anything until I turned around. Again, why?” Maggie and Rosita exchanged excited glances, the same looks they exchanged on our walk over here, before Maggie continued.

“So when we got there, Daryl said he’d go get you. We were waiting for you for a few minutes. I saw him through the cracked door. He was just standing there in your doorway.” Her face was lit up at this point. “He could’ve just yelled for you or let us in to get you. I think he wanted an excuse to see you, talk to you, even for just a second. I think he was watching you the whole time.”

I felt the butterflies in my stomach fluttering like mad at the thought of him standing in my doorway, just watching me having a wholesome, innocent moment with a butterfly. If he indeed was standing there the whole time, what was he thinking about me? Did he think I was some dumb woman who clearly wasn’t cut out to survive the apocalypse? Did he think I was silly and there were better things I could be doing? Or did he think it was, dare I say, cute?

“I don’t know. I don’t even think he likes me. I think I’m being tolerated at best.”

“If he really didn’t like you, you wouldn’t have to guess. You’d know,” Maggie explained, “he’d make it abundantly clear.” Her reassurance, combined with the fact that she’d known Daryl for much longer than me, brought me some comfort. At least it seemed like he didn’t hate me.

“Well, if he wanted to see me or talk to me, he could just do that,” I said, “I don’t bite.”

“Daryl’s a little…too awkward when it comes to that. I don’t think he’s ever been with a woman,” Maggie replied. I cocked my eyebrow at her.

“What about a man?” I asked.

“I don’t think he’s ever been with anyone,” Michonne cut in. I turned my confused expression in her direction. I found it hard to believe that someone as strong, handsome, and mysterious as Daryl hadn’t been with anyone, romantically or otherwise.

“Him? Nah, I don’t believe he’s never been with anyone. Have you seen the man?” I rolled my eyes back and giggled. “He’s gorgeous. I’m sure there’s always been both men and women fawning over him.” They were now giggling at me, my level of tipsiness making itself known. Had I not eaten before coming, I’m sure I would’ve been far more drunk.

The front door handle jiggled, and in came Carl, Rick, and Glenn. Glenn waltzed over to Maggie, practically scooping her up to give her a kiss. Carl gave me a small wave and a “hey Vector” before walking past us to his room, presumably. Rick approached Michonne and gave her a smooch as well, taking Judith before turning to me.

“Makin’ friends Vector?”

“You know it, cowboy.” When I first got here and woke up in the cell, I had asked Rick for his name so I could address him properly, but ever since, I had almost exclusively referred to him as “cowboy.”

“Rick, Glenn, we have a question for you,” Maggie asked them. Michonne and Rosita looked like they were trying to stop themselves from busting out laughing.

“No we don’t.” I was perhaps a bit too quick with my response.

“Do you think Daryl’s ever been involved with anyone romantically? Is that something y’all’ve talked about?” She was trying to suppress her own laughter at this point. Glenn and Rick exchanged glances. Rick took the liberty of responding for both of them.

“He’s never talked about it, we haven't asked. But no, I don’t think he has. Why?” Maggie turned to me and gave me a “see, told you” look. Her diverting her attention to me caused Glenn and Rick to follow, as if her doing so was an answer to Rick’s question. I was probably more red than the brightest tomato any of them had ever seen.

“Does somebody have a little schoolgirl crush?” Glenn teased.

“Are you shitting my dick right now?” I mumbled under my breath, “y’all don’t keep secrets around here, do you?”

“If it makes you feel better, I think I can speak for both Maggie and I when we way we would’ve let it slip to them at some point,” Michonne said. I hopped up off of my stool and walked over to my boots.

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to make me feel better. None of you are to say a word to him about this. Aaron’s the only other one who knows.”

“So almost all of us that really know Daryl know about it?” Rosita laughed.

“I guess, yeah.” I figured Glenn and Rick getting back was the sign that it was time to leave, so I started zipping my boots up. Rosita got up and came to do the same, as did Maggie, Glenn following close behind her. ”Thank you for inviting me to hang with y’all. Now what we discussed in this room stays in this room. This circle is HIPAA compliant. Do I make myself clear?” They all nodded.

“Crystal,” Michonne smiled. I finished putting my boots on and stepped out of the way for the others to do the same. I followed them out the door and down the steps of the front porch after saying goodnight to Rick and Michonne.

“Invite me again when y’all do that,” I said, “but don’t let me drink so much. I’m starting to feel dizzy.” I held my hands out at my sides, just a bit, to help myself as I walked.

“Geez, you really are a lightweight. You gonna be ok?” Maggie asked, placing a hand on my shoulder as we continued.

“Don’t worry, she has a big, strong, handsome man at home that can help her up into bed,” Rosita teased. I was too focused on making sure I didn’t fall over as I walked to come up with a clever response to her snarky remark.

“Oh hush,” was all I could muster up.

Glenn and Maggie’s place was first, and Rosita walked with me the rest of the way to mine, as hers was past me. She made sure I got up the front steps without falling before heading off.

“Hey Rosita?” I slowly turned to her, and she stopped and looked back at me, “y’all are really cool. Thanks for allowing me to come.”

“Anytime. Now just get into bed safe,” she commented, turning and heading off. I slowly approached the front door and tried to be as quiet as possible as I let myself in in case Daryl was asleep.

But he wasn’t. He was standing in the kitchen, and he had just poured himself some whiskey. It smelled like gasoline and only made my dizziness worse. I let the door close softly behind me and carefully lowered myself to the ground to take my boots off.

“The hell ya doin’?” I turned my head in his direction, and by that point I was so dizzy that all I could make out clearly was vague shapes and colors. I could tell he was wearing something black, and he was leaning over the kitchen island, but that was about it.

“I…am a lightweight…and I’m…so dizzy right now…I can barely see you…” I took my shoes out from under me and cautiously stood up, making sure I had my footing before I started walking toward the stairs.

“What’d ya drink?” Daryl asked. My lack of sobriety made me question whether or not the slight hint of concern in his voice was real or if I had imagined it.

“I had…three glasses…of wine…” I replied.

“Jesus, ya really are a lightweight.” I kept my hands out at my sides to maintain my balance, stepping and stopping for a moment before taking another one, “careful goin’ up them stairs now. Fall and break ya neck if ya slip, and I ain’t cleanin’ that up.” I didn’t say or do anything, I just kept my slow pace toward the stairs. As I approached the bottom step, I heard Daryl’s footsteps come around from the kitchen and stand somewhere behind me.

“What are you…doing?” I turned my head to talk back over my shoulder.

“Makin’ sure ya don’t break ya neck. We just got a doctor. Can’t have her gettin’ herself killed that fast.” He swirled his whiskey in his hand. I didn’t notice the sound of ice clinking against the cup. The man took his whiskey neat—couldn’t say I was surprised by that.

I carefully stepped up onto the first step, grabbing onto both sides of the railing with my hands to steady myself. To say I was humiliated would be an understatement. I didn’t need a babysitter, but my low tolerance for alcohol demanded I have one.

“Well this…is…embarrassing,” I said as I continued making my way up the steps.

“Nah, we all get a lil’ too drunk sometimes,” he said, “easy escape in a world like this. Hard not to.” After I was probably halfway up, I heard his footsteps again, this time coming to the bottom of the steps before stopping. When I was almost at the top, he came up the stairs a bit, always making sure to leave a distance of several steps between us. I didn’t know if that was because he was uncomfortable getting too close or he didn’t want me getting uncomfortable with him getting too close. Once I had finally made the long, arduous journey to my bedroom door, I turned back to him. My dizziness was only getting worse, but I could make out the shape of him on the steps, facing my direction.

“Thanks for…not letting me…break my neck…Daryl.” I gave him a tipsy smile and a two-finger salute. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” he responded. I shut the door, taking my glasses off and setting them on my dresser before allowing myself to fall back onto the bed. I crawled up toward my pillow and was asleep before my head even touched it.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x oc #twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #the walking dead #eventual romance #slow burn #slow romance #twduniverse #twd fanfiction #twd fandom #thewalkingdeadfanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead daryl dixon #when I say slow burn I mean slow

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3xm-draconic · 1 year ago

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Strigoi (a werebat Cyris & Astarion short story)

Iam starting to write for astarion now.

Strigoi.

Summary: Astarion finds out Cyris is a werebat…and some interesting side effects to drinking his blood.

Part 1 blood so sweet.

Surprisingly everyone was kind of chill with Astarion being a vampire…he was not expecting this…nor what followed…

It happened while fighting goblins in the old church, while rescuing Halsin.

One moment astarion was pinned against a group of them with no way out and…then…he just…poofed

Turned into mist for a brief moment and slipped behind one of them.

He…never could do that before…NO SPAWN SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THAT WHAT THE HELLS?!

Then there was the thing with the wolf…Astarion somehow managed to summon a wolf out of thin air in the middle of combat. It was friendly towards him…but it did try to bite Wyll. He kept it and named it Leggy, he’s playmates with Cyris’s adopted stray, Scratch.

But just what the fuck was going on?

Was it the tadpole? Did it somehow unlock vampire powers?

In camp Astarion sauntered over to Cyris, he was getting peckish and waned just a little taste before bed, “Darling~” he murmured seductively “Iam famished, mind if I?”, Cyris stopped playing his violin and looked up at him with his big doe-brown eyes.

“Sure thing SugarFangs” he grinned and bared his neck, Astarion had to admit he did find the nickname cute…and…he was finding it hard to…to manipulate him…like this.

Astarion knew he wasn’t safe out here, Cazador would be looking for him, he needed…security. He at first tried to seduce Karlach but she was more interested in Wyll, He then tried Gale but…he and Shadowheart had already started seeing each other.

The gith would probably rip this throat out, Allegra would literally eat him alive and Roger was not interested in men.

Cyris was his only option left…and he also was the one who let him drink from him, he…he was different.

He is very different from the others, not just in his odd personality, the way he just blankly cares little of the world, of others…but in just how he treats him.

When they started…“dating”...Cyris would ask him whenever he was hungry, he would “check up on him”, and when he wasn't feeding off of him he even started bottling little vials of animal blood so he could drink on the go. Astarion first thought it was…annoying… having someone worry about you all the time…but…because Cyris…Cyris…

Well…

Astarion chalked it up to just being well fed all the time, Who could blame him? After 200 years of near starvation, of feeling the hunger ravaging his body EVERY. WAKING. MOMENT…now being…sated…of finally having warmth and life return to him?

That’s what it felt like…

It wasn't just sustenance he obtained from feeding on Cyris…it was life energy…warmth.

His body was warm again.

“Hey Starry Darlin” Cyris hummed, Astarion chuckled at they way Cyris said Darling, “this may be a…Morbid question but…what do I taste like?”, Astarion thought for a moment.

“You taste…” Astarion pondered, Cyris tasted like many things, sweet but not too sweet just enough to Astarion’s likeing, warm…and full…hearty…even spicy but not burning spicey more like…flavorful.

“Hmm…good question…I’d have to say you are like a shot of honeyed bourbon dropped in a mug of warm spiced cider served with a side of strawberry pie…certainly a mix of tastes” he laughed. Cyris chuckled “I sound delicious”, “oh you are darling~” Astarion hummed as he scooted over to Cyris and got on top of him, he looked at all of his tattoos.

The shimmering chains that glistened like silver, the 8 little bats on his left wrist with names and dates on them, a sleeve tattoo on his right arm of bats, lavender and strawberries and on his chest, where his heart was, was a strange tattoo. It was a bountiful cornucopia within a shield with black bat wings that held crescent moons and 4 pointed stars within them, Astarion wondered what all the tattoos ment.

Astarion kissed him…and…it…it felt…different, Astarion didn’t know if it was Cyris’s blood in his belly or…or something else making him feel this..feeling inside.

“Roger it is to be a FULL MOON tonight, perhaps we should GET OUT a blanket and watch it rise? Maybe even STAY AWAY from the campfire to see the stars better?” Allegra called out.

Roger, who turned out to be a seahag-hexblood, looked at her weirdly…then at Cyris and freaked out “OH YEAH RIGHT, eh-hem, Um hey Cyris, big favor pal, could you go into the woods and get more…uh..uh…”, “we are in need of more mushrooms” Allegra butted in, “YHEA MUSHROOMS” Roger nodded.

Cyris looked at them like they were on drugs…but then his face…his face had a look of…realization?

“oh…OH…ye-yeah I’ll get more, more mushrooms”, he gently pulled away from Astarion, “sorry Starlight, I…I gotta go, I probably won't be back for a while, don’t worry about me though” he grinned and sauntered into the forest.

Astarion knew something was wrong “what are you up to?”

Part 2: Beast.

Cyris walked a good distance away from camp, deep enough into the woods to where if Halsin or Astarion whent out hunting they would not find him.

…hungry…

The changes started slow, they did not overwhelm him anymore like they had at the den, he was more in control again.

…turn…let my armor fall again…

He entered a clearing, a grove of hemlock and wild sweetpeas, he fell to his knees and stripped off his clothes, not wanting to rip them.

…change…become the beast….

He looked up into the shining light of the moon, its silvery rays casting down on him, their cool light soothing his skin as his mortal coil burned away and his sanguinethropic side took form.

…finally…hunt…

He sniffed the air, the scent of sweetpeas…and…

Cyris sniffed again, there was another scent, a familiar one.

…moss…cologne…sweet wine?…

A twig snapped.

Cyris whipped his head around in the direction of the sound, he at first could not see anything, nothing but the blacks and blues of his heat-sensing vision…but then he saw it…or rather…him.

He was low, hiding in a group of blackberry bushes, his form almost matched the blacks and blues around him…being cold and undead…however the little spot in his belly where still warm blood pooled and…digested?...Cyris could see that, bright and pink.

…starlight?…

Cyris could hear him frantically panicking to himself.

“OH FUCK, OH SHIT, OH GODS!” he hushly whimpered under his breath.

…I won't hurt you…

Cyris crawled over, his massive form crashing through the brush, he came over to the bushes and picked up his little vampiric loverboy.

“STOP, PLEASE, DON’T EAT ME CYRIS” he wailed in fear and struggled in his grasp.

Cyris cocked his head in confusion.

…eat?...no…silly little star…

Cyris embraced him in a hug, Astarion was…gently…enveloped by his wings and snuggled into his thick dark fur.

…cuddle…

Astarion stopped wailing, he seemed to be caressing the soft fur around him, “oh gods you are so soft!” he said, now sounding more calm “you are like a giant warm velvetine teddy bear~” he hummed.

He breathed in a sigh of relief “...oh?!...and you smell like lavender and strawberries?!” he gasped.

Astarion looked up into Cyris’s eyes, he could plainly see that they held no ill intent, no desire to rip and tear, they glowed with sweet loving tenderness, he laughed “your a werebat…well now a lot of things about you make sense”.

Cyris chittered happily and nuzzled him.

“Ha…here I was thinking you were going to eat me, look at you, you're nothing but a great big plush toy, a ball of fluff and love are you darling~?”

Cyris chirped and nuzzled him again, “although…you still are a werecreature…and thus you need to feed, don’t you?” he said as he looked into Cyris’s eyes.

“I guess I should leave you to that” he said as he started to walk away.

…no…wait…

Cyris stopped Astarion.

…hunt…with me…together…my sweet little star…

“Cyris, what are you doing?” Astarion pondered as he watched his werebat lover crouch down in front of him, he motioned with his head for him to…hop on his back? “You…you want me to ride you?” Astarion gawked “oh…well it wouldn't be the first bad idea I’ve had tonight…” he mumbled “but then again when’s the last time I’ve gotten to go flying?” he smirked.

They flew through the forest silent as whispers, Cyris was careful with Astarion on his back, the vampire was…a little frightened at first…but as Cyris gently glide and road the wind through the trees Astarion’s eyes widened in excitement at it all, “Cyris go, go higher!” he giddily beamed.

They cleared the canopy and flew above the trees “holy…shit…” he marveled at the sight before him, the entirety of the forest below them the mountains in the distance, the river beyond “lucky bastard, you get to do this every night” he playfully mumbled to Cyris.

Soon however Cyris found what he was looking for, a herd of deer.

He carefully landed and let Astarion off, he then crept through the foliage being very stealthy despite his size and snatched up a young buck.

He brought his catch back to Astarion and presented it to him, “oh?...you, you want me to feed? You want me to dine with you tonight darling~?” Astarion cood, Cyris nodded and held down the panicking deer.

“Such a gentleman” Astarion chuckled as he then sank his fangs into the deer, he drank just a little, he still had quite a bit of Cyris’s blood still left in his stomach.

“There darling, Iam done, you can go ahead now and feed my sweet~” he grinned. He watched Cyris wrench the head off the poor delirious deer and engulf its neck-stump in his maw, he then lifted it into the air so gravity could help him extract every last drop of blood.

“Fuck…” Astarion gawked “that…damn you are brutal Cyris…I love it~”.

Part 3: the strigoi.

“Hmmm… AH HA…I got it!” Gale grinned as he closed the book he was reading “and it makes perfect sense”, “...um…what does?” Wyll pondered as he washed dishes, “I had previously hypothesized that Astarion was a vampire and I was proven correct, then I was again proven correct with Roger being a hexblood” Gale proudly smirked “I have another hypothesis, one that makes sense as to why our vampiric friend has new powers and why Cyris is so…it in lack of better terms…savage”.

“Ok…go on” Wyll curiously awaited the wizard, “Cyris is a lycanthrope which makes Astarion now a Strigoi”, “...ok..hang on, how is Cyris a lycanthrope and what the hells is a Strig-roy?” Wyll pondered, “Strig-goy not roy, and I’ll explain.” Gale opened his book to show Wyll.

“Cyris shows all the characteristics of a lycanthrope, not just physical with his immense body size, hair growth, sharp teeth and claw-like nails but also in his personality and body language. He is aloof, apathetic, knows a great deal about hunting, the wilderness and…” Gale paused “he’s just left camp on a full moon night”.

Wyll nodded “ok…that makes a lot of sense…but the hells is a strigoi?”, “Ah, yes a Strigoi is a vampire who feeds off therianthrope blood, normally vampires would not do this as vampire lords and masters are powerful and have no need to nor desire to feed off werecreatures. BUT, there do arise some occasions where spawn feed off werecreatures to gain temporary access to higher vampiric power”, “temporary?”, “The spawn needs to keep feeding from the werecreature inorder to remain powerful otherwise the remain powerless spawn” Gale remarked.

“That…seems dangerous” Wyll said as he read more of the book, “it is, but it seems most lords and masters do this as an alternative to freeing their spawn, give them only a little more power than they have but not enough to other throw them”, “Oh…makes sense”, “this is also why most vampires work with or keep werewolves or any kind of werecreature as servants and slaves…this might also be why werecreatures and vampires have a subtle feud between them, given they are used as basically a power source” Gale muttered.

Astarion could be heard talking to someone…

“Ah, here we are now” Gale excitedly approached the vampire…strigoi… with Wyll, Astarion was talking to something or rather a certain someone in the bushes.

“Cyris they are fine with me and Roger, I’am sure they will be fine with you and besides, your fed and basically a living fluff ball just come out of the bushes”, a chattering noise could be heard, “he’s right my lycanthropic fellow, you have no need to worry about us turning on you, I’am actually quite excited to study a werecreature if you’d allow me” Gale said as he approached the bushes.

Wyll shrugged “as long as you don’t hurt any innocent people I have nothing against you”, “yhea Cyris, c’mon out we don’t bite…well Astarion does but you know that” Karlach laughed, “a werecreature is a most useful alley if you can control your inner beast” Lae’zel mumbled “I’d quite like to see it”, Shadowheart shrugged “I’am fine with you, just don’t eat me in my sleep”.

Cyris walked out of the bushes standing at his full height, he dwarfed even the biggest Goliath “God-GODS DAMN!” Wyll yelped “you are one big bat!”, “Ah…I see, I was right on the werecreature just wrong on the animal” Gale mumbled, “HOLY SHIT…you are fluffy!” Karlach beamed as she patted Cyris’s head, much to the disapproving glare of Astarion.

“A werebat? I did not know those existed, I knew of your werewolves…but not bats” Lae’zel curiously mumbled, “hu…I didn’t either…he does look kind of cute though” Shadowheart chuckled.

As the camp tucked in for the night, Gale informed Astarion about his new status as a Strigoi, “so…by drinking from Cyris…I’am more powerful? THAT'S AMAZING!” Astarion beamed, “yes but it comes at a price”, “there’s always a damn catch isn't there?” Astarion mumbled, “you’ll have to regularly keep drinking from him, if you miss a day or two you’ll suffer a painful crash back down to being a powerless spawn”, “ok, so? Cyris lets me drink all the time?”, “but if you drink too much there is a chance of you…well becoming…addicted..and possibly falling into a blood-fueled-crazed-rage where you never return” Gale added.

“Oh…” Astarion pondered “well we’ll…we’ll be careful” he said as he sauntered into his tent.

Astarion now had access to power he had never had before…but at the cost of possibly his very sanity…it was worth the risk…besides.

ANYTHING was worth having the upperhand over Cazador.

Anything…

#dnd #werebat #dnd character #fanfic #astarion being kind of cute #astarion x oc #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #lae'zel #bg3 wyll #karlach #shadowheart #cyris being soft #soft astarion

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autumnmobile12 · 2 years ago

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“Did you know I remember when you were born?”

“Yeah?” Simon lifted his head.

“I was six, and it had been raining all day. Alucard was watching over Catherina and I downstairs, but I think Miruna or Apa would come down to check on us now and then.” Leona drew her long legs into her chest. “In the morning, after it was over, Apa woke us up and said, ‘Come meet your brother.’ And he scooped us in both arms and carried us. He used to be able to do that.”

“I remember.”

“Mm-hmm.” Leona grinned. “You know, I remember the first thing I ever said to you. I looked right into your pinched, newborn face and told you, ‘I’m Leona and this is Catherina, and we have the most amazing family.’ I was six years old, but when I saw you, I knew I wanted to be a sister that could protect you both.”

“And that’s just it.” Simon shook his head. “You’ve always known who you are and what your purpose is, Leo.”

...

She looked, Mircea mused, a good deal like her mother. They had the same face, but the surface resemblance between them ended there. Unlike Belnades, Leona was tall and broad-shouldered, her hair and eyes were uncannily identical to her father’s, and when the pair shed their customary taciturn demeanors, they both had the same indomitable smile that roared triumph. “If I didn’t know better,” Leona said in a voice that was a weird blend of her mother’s eloquence and her father’s brusque tones. “I’d say you were afraid of him.”

...

It was nearly autumn. She could feel the air crisp in her lungs when she breathed, the chill that pricked at her bare calves where her legs had grown longer than her trousers, and the sun above had grown heatless and oppressive in the twilight. Autumn, Leona thought, meant red and auburn leaves, ripe apples, bonfires and harvest and cider. It meant the approach of snow and cold weather, mittens and wool cloaks, but it also meant she would be ten years old soon and that was when Apa promised he would finally let her begin training with her own sword. A real sword. Live steel, not the wooden ones she used to batter the straw and burlap dummies in the yard. From her perch on the fence that bordered the field, Leona wriggled with excitement.

Leona is the eldest Belmont child, the reliable elder sister. All three of them were trained to fight, but Leona is the one who threw everything she had into physical combat and it shows. She loves her family and is fiercely proud of both lines of her heritage, and most of her character revolves around defending what’s hers.

Among the three, so far the character I developed Leona to be is the most balanced between Trevor and Sypha. Catherina and Simon have physical and personality traits from both their parents, but they seem to sway toward one or the other. Like Trevor, Leona has an intimidating appearance and demeanor, and she’s impossible to ignore. She has a very low voice, it’s very brusque, but the counterpoint to that is that she has Sypha’s manner of speaking. She’s also not as cynical as Trevor is, leaning more toward Sypha’s optimism while maintaining the general level-headed attitudes of both parents. In contrast, Catherina has Sypha’s hot temper while Simon is quieter and much slower to anger, which comes of being the youngest of three, albeit he does have his breaking point. Beyond her parents, Leona has the charisma from her paternal grandfather and the calm wisdom of her maternal great-grandfather.

All three of the siblings can read spells and, courtesy of Sypha, have at least a basic understanding of how magic works. In particular, Leona has the infamous memory of the Speakers and is able to memorize long passages of text, complex alchemical equations, and even financial records in account books. Give her a glimpse of a runic diagram and she can recreate it. When it comes to fighting, her longsword and her own fists are her preferred method, although she’s not opposed to using charms, armor or even weapons imbued with magic for protection and the like.

Keeping true to Sypha’s heritage, Leona and her siblings are multi-lingual. They’ve been speaking dozens of languages since they first learned to talk and this reflects in how they address their parents. Leona calls her father Apa, the Hungarian word for father, and she calls her mother Omm, the Arabic word for mother.

Key words for Leona: Charismatic, protector, unwavering, ferocity. Ever loyal to family, absolutely ruthless toward the enemy.

...

Her Siblings

Catherina

Simon

#castlevania #trevor belmont #Sypha Belnades #trevor and sypha child #leona belmont #belmont family #original characters #castlevania fanart #original character design #fragments of stuff I haven't finished writing...#castlevania netlix #castlevania fanfiction #autumnmobile12 #archive of our own #word vomit

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nawilla · 2 years ago

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Fic Excerpt: Mari Gets Some Advice About Urban Living

This is from the fic I’m currently working on, which is a Star Wars fanfic that takes place before The Phantom Menace. This scene involves two original characters just trying to get through their Monday morning commute.

* * *

The dark, grey clouds dumped chilling rain into another dreadful morning, but it did not deter the mass migration of damp commuters. Common knowledge and trivia contests throughout the Core Worlds stated that Coruscant had very few rainy days compared to other developed worlds but Mari would beg to differ. She had only been here for a few miserable months but she swore she had started more weeks with rain than with sunshine.

She kept her head down to keep the rain out of her eyes, the walkway was much too crowded for anything as sensible as an umbrella, and kept her mouth shut, hoping the bandana over her lower face would be sufficient to keep the notorious pathogens in the planet’s rain out. Seasoned residents of the city planet didn’t seem as concerned but it was something they always warned the newcomers about.

She stepped off the walkway and onto the stairs to the air shuttle station and her foot slipped against the stupidly slick surface. She grabbed for the handrail, using her arm and stable leg to remain upright while her bad knee bent in a manner it really should not have been bending, despite the brace under her clothes. The man behind her brushed against her, just able to avoid pushing her down, quite reasonably not having expected her to stop suddenly. Mari steadied herself and managed to stay upright, but her mask slipped and the wretched raindrops fell into her now open mouth.

“Sorry,” she grated out through gritted teeth as her knee made its wrath known. She slowly began working her way down the steps, trying to step down only on her stable leg, unable to trust the injured one to hold. When she reached the bottom, she stepped off to the side and tried to spit out whatever was in her mouth.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

“Yes.” Mari gripped her handbag tight, hoping she wasn’t about to be pickpocketed. “Fine.”

“You shouldn’t stop on the stairs, Miss. I almost knocked you down.”

Oh. “I’m very sorry.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket, knowing it probably had more germs on it than the rain had, and tried to wipe her tongue.

“Oh, did you get rain in your mouth?” He sounded sympathetic. “That happens sometimes.”

She finally turned to see a man, probably about her age, dressed like a young bureaucrat or businessman. The station was between the Senate District and the Business District, so he could well be either.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I stopped because I slipped and almost fell.”

He glanced at her shoes, then grimaced at the handkerchief. “Eww, no, don’t do that.” He pointed out a kiosk that served the commuters. “Get a small bottle of mouthwash. Gargle it real good now, then again when you get where you’re going. I always carry some and use it on rainy days.” He shrugged. “I’d offer but I put my mouth on it so . . .”

“Oh. Thanks.” That did sound like a better idea.

He grinned. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No.”

He did not seem offended that she offered no further details. “The mouthwash will help ward off the Coruscant Trots,” he explained. “But if you want to avoid slips and fall, you need better shoes.”

“Better shoes?” She tried not to get offended. This well-dressed Coruscanti hot house flower had probably never considered that the lower classes couldn’t afford better shoes.

He held up his knee to display his oddly rugged boot. “You’re wearing office shoes. You need something with better treads and stability. Sports shoes. Walking shoes. Combat boots. Something secure to run the gauntlet.”

Mari raised an eyebrow. “Um, really?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m going to work.”

He snorted. “You’ve got to get there alive first.”

“Good point.” She bit back a sigh. “I was trying to dress and act professionally.”

“Not wiping out on the shuttle station steps looks much more professional,” he assured her, then gestured to the crowd rushing past them. “You see all those other professional women racing for their trains, busses and shuttles?”

“Yes,” she nodded, following his gaze.

“Check out their feet.”

She did. He was right. There was not a single high heel or dress shoe to be found. Sports shoes. Walking shoes. Rain boots. And yes, even combat boots.

“They have their nice shoes in their bags,” he explained. “Or they keep them at their desks. It’s safer and you’ll be grateful for your ability to run the next time you’re late.”

That was not how the businesswomen dressed at home. Not that she would be running any time soon, if ever again.

“This is normal?”

He laughed. “On Coruscant? Very normal.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She glanced at the chrono and grimaced. “I’d better be going.” She began walking toward the kiosk he had recommended, trying not to groan as her knee protested. Her near fall had tweaked what was already aggravated by the rain, and now it was getting angry and stiff.

“Um, you’re welcome. Are you okay?” He followed after her, noticing her obvious limp.

“Fine,” she gritted out. “It’s an old injury.”

“Ah.” He followed her all the way to the kiosk, picking up a protein bar and getting in line behind her. “Was it an accident?”

She turned to give him a glare for his nosiness.

He held up his hands. “Sorry. Reflex. I’m a lawyer.”

“Ah.” She relaxed. “No. Combat. I was in the Correlian Navy.”

“You do sound Correlian.” He seemed utterly unfazed by the notion of females in the military. Maybe had been serious when he had suggested the combat boots.

She paid for her mouthwash and limped off to a trash can to swish and spit.

He had caught up to her before she finished. “Are you okay to get where you’re going?” he asked as she wiped her lips.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “It hurts to walk in the rain, but I can still do it.”

“Be careful on those steps,” he advised. “And get better shoes. I’d never win the case if you slipped and fell in shoes like that,” he said with a wink.

She snorted, just barely a laugh.

“You take care of yourself, Miss.”

“Mari,” she told him, holding out her hand to shake. “Thanks for your advice.”

“Juret,” he took her hand, smiling warmly then passed her a business card. “Take care and you call if you get an accidental injury. Not that we want that.” With another grin, he turned and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Mari glanced down at the card, then at her shoes. It looked like a professional card. Her feet were wet.

Her old combat boots were a hell of a lot more comfortable than these nice shoes. With a grumble she glanced at the stairs then limped over to the line for the lift. It would be best not to tempt fate today.

#fic excerpt #fanfic #star wars #coruscant #rain #original characters

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o0-iris-0o · 2 months ago

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Luminous | Xiao x [F] Reader

Description: After months of isolation and endless work, your friend insists on taking you out for a night of music and escape. But a stranger at the bar has an offer that might take your life in an unexpected direction.

Warnings: Dark Themes | NSFW | 18+

Chapter: 27/29

V AO3 Tags Below V

< CH. 26 | CH. 28 >

Chapter 27

Gazing through the portal, my heart skips a beat as I take a step forward, unsure of what—or who—I’ll be faced with on the other side. My foot disappears into the thick, undulating substance—it almost feels as though it's pulling at my limb. Taking a deep breath, I plunge myself into the mass, the sensation akin to diving into heavy water.

Emerging on the other side, the substance clings to me but relinquishes its hold easily as I find firm footing once again. I’m in the room I’d previously glimpsed, though the air feels weighted.

A sudden crack rings in my ears, forcing me to flinch back. Just in time, a projectile cuts past me with a gust of displaced air. My breath catches in my throat as I spin toward the source, my focus locking to the left where two figures stand, unnervingly still for only a heartbeat.

They vaguely resemble humans, but dark, crystalline growths tear through their rotting flesh, splintering their faces into jagged, mask-like formations. Despite their facelessness, I know they see me. The tension breaks like a snapped wire, and they charge straight for me.

Sprinting out of the way, I weave around scattered tables, my boots thudding against the ground. Spinning around, my hands snap up, and I fire at the advancing corpse-like creature. The shots hit, the impact sending it staggering backward, but it doesn’t fall. Quickly, I scan for the second figure—and there, across the room, it stands with a gun raised directly at me.

What the fuck?

I barely process the gleam of metal before the firearm pops off. I drop to the floor, the shot cracking through the air as I duck behind a table for cover.

This sucks. There’s hardly any space in here for a proper fight—I’m boxed in, but at least the tables give me something to work with. My fingers hover near my hips, considering my daggers for close combat, when the air in front of me rips. A dark fissure splits the space, jagged and unnatural, and fluorescent chains burst out. Before I can react, they coil around me, squeezing until my arms are pinned to my sides.

I gasp, thrashing against the chains, their glow reflecting in my wide eyes. The sound of rushing footsteps echoes, the heavy thuds of the advancing monsters growing louder. My gaze darts downward—the chains shimmer with translucent energy. These aren’t real at all.

Thinking on my feet, a chilling sensation creeps beneath my skin, spreading like frostbite. A freezing ball forms within me, and as one of the creatures rounds the corner, a burst of icy energy explodes outward like shattering glass. The eruption sends the monsters flying into walls and tables as the chains dissolve into mist.

I hop to my feet, dazed but alive. Had no idea I could do that. My breath fogs the air as I instinctively raise my gun, firing at the nearest creature as it stumbles onto its feet. But it’s ready this time. With a flick of its arm, an energy shield snaps into existence, deflecting my shots.

Suddenly, a sharp ache pierces my skull. I wince, staggering. My stomach churns.

This isn’t good… I’m running out of time—I haven’t even found Xiao yet. I need to end this fast.

Tossing my gun to the floor, the clang of metal echoes as my hands snap to my hips. My daggers materialize, pulled from nothingness. I lunge forward, sprinting toward the monster with everything I have. As I close the distance, fissures split open behind it, chains bursting forth to intercept me.

I drop low, throwing my weight to the ground and sliding beneath the rapid chains. The momentum carries me up behind the creature. I swing a dagger toward its back—but it’s fast, too fast, spinning to meet me with unnerving precision. My blade cuts through air with a shrill.

The monster dodges, shifting, its movements fluid and inhuman, but I don’t stop. I press harder, swinging both daggers in a relentless assault. I push it, my strikes growing fast, more precise, until my breath and the rhythm of my attacks synchronize, the two of us practically dancing around each other.

Suddenly, a hand clamps around my arm mid-swing, its grip cold and firm. I turn my head—the second monster. I’d forgotten about it. My free dagger swings, piercing through the blacked flesh of its torso. Heaving a boot into the air, my foot slams into its frame, tearing the blade free. The force sends it crashing back, sprawling across tables and chairs in a chaotic mess of debris.

A gargled, distorted laugh sounds from behind.

I twist back to the first monster—too late. Its hand locks around my throat. My dropped dagger clatters to the ground as my fingers claw at its deteriorating arm, the flesh disintegrating like burnt paper beneath my touch. I plunge my remaining blade into its side in an attempt to loosen its hold, but it remains steadfast. Heat radiates from its palm, an unbearable burning searing into my skin.

I screech, raw and broken, as the pain blurs everything else. Desperation drives me. I rip my blade out, my hands shaking now as I thrust it back in, over and over. My throat tightens further with every breath I can’t take. The monster’s grip doesn’t waver, its strength unrelenting.

Then, a gunshot. The sound pierces through the haze, and I collapse to the floor, gasping as air floods back into my lungs. My vision swims, teary and blurred, but I make out a disembodied hand lying beside me—its flesh already melting into the ground. Shaking, I glance up. The monster is motionless, its handless arm still extended.

What the hell was that?

With a jerk of my head, I see the second creature, across the room, standing among the wreckage, gun drawn.

Distorted laughter rises, spiraling into hysterics as the room’s temperature spikes. My gaze snaps back. The creature before me now glows, its form engulfed in an infernal light. The heat rolls toward me, unrelenting, unbearable.

My instincts scream at me to move. I scramble to my feet, stumbling and slipping as the growing wave of heat swallows the room whole. An unstoppable force slams into me from behind, knocking me off my feet.

< CH. 26 | CH. 28 >

#fanfiction #fanfic #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin #xiao genshin impact #xiao #xiao/reader #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao fanfic #genshin fanart #genshin art #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

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umichenginabroad · 2 months ago

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Last Few Weeks in SJTU

This week has been particularly cold, and I've found it quite challenging to adapt. Back home, I rarely needed to layer up even indoors, but here, it's a different story. To combat the chill, I’ve been turning on the heater occasionally. However, the dryness it creates—especially with the AC blowing directly at my bed—has been quite uncomfortable. This prompted me to search for a warmer, cozier place to work and study.

My first attempt was the lobby downstairs. I pass through it every morning on my way to class, and the warmth there always feels like a much better wake-up call than any alarm clock. Sitting there to do homework, however, turned out to be a different experience. The lobby is a social hub, so it’s hard not to get distracted by people chatting or stopping to say hi. On top of that, the heating wasn’t as effective as I’d hoped. The constant opening and closing of the doors made it difficult to stay warm.

Luckily, my second attempt was much more successful. I discovered that the school library and the study area in the JI building were both much cozier and more comfortable. Unlike my dorm, the heating in these spots didn’t feel as drying, and the quiet, focused atmosphere was perfect for staying on task. It was such a relief to work in an environment where I didn’t feel like all the moisture was being sucked out of the air. Below is a picture of the JI study area

The cold weather has also brought about some seasonal snacks that everyone seems to be enjoying, especially candied hawthorn skewers. I bought one from a vendor just outside the campus. It was a delightful treat—strawberries and glutinous rice skewered together and coated in hardened sugar. While it wasn’t the cheapest snack (southern China prices!), it was worth trying. If you’re a big fan of candied hawthorn skewers, though, I’d recommend heading to northern China, where it’s not only more authentic but also much more affordable.

With Christmas approaching, Shanghai is transforming into a festive wonderland. There are beautiful decorations around the city, and I’ve heard about a Christmas night market in the Bund that offers delicious seasonal food and stunning displays. Of course, it’s the Bund, so crowds are to be expected—but the experience sounds magical! I didn't have the chance to go myself but enjoy a picture of it!

Shanni Yu

Industrial and Operations Engineering

UM-Shanghai Jiaotong University Joint Institute, Shanghai, China

#ipeshanghai #shanniyu #china #umichenginabroad

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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

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Kinkmas Day 6 (Argyle x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), fingering, oral (f! receiving), heavy mentions of diet culture & body image issues, language

WC: 1.8k

Kinkmas 2022 Masterlist

A/N: Special thanks to @trashmouth-richie for her help with the dialogue. Love you, bb squirrel <3

For some people, the prospect of the New Year brings thoughts of renewal and hope. Reconnection with loved ones, new resolutions, and promises to keep.

For you, it meant being inundated with advertisements for diets to “combat holiday weight gain” or to “earn your dream body.” As much as you tried to tune out the commercials and magazine spreads, it was nearly impossible. Low carb, low fat, and low self-esteem.

Your boyfriend didn’t see you that way. Argyle was always telling you how beautiful you are, how lucky he is to be with someone so sexy. If only you could believe him.

It had been a few weeks since you two had had sex. You’d blamed the stress and busyness of the holiday season, but he knew there was something deeper. So on New Year’s Eve, when you were on his lap, nuzzling into his neck, he took the opportunity to bring it up.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your ear and slides a strong hand up your pajama shirt, “care to ring in the New Year with me?”

You warm at his touch, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. “I’m kinda sleepy,” you lie lamely, and he furrows his brows.

“Whas’ going on, my love?” Argyle’s voice is all concern; he’s forgotten about the prospect of sex and is only worried about what’s eating you.

“‘S just all the weight loss stuff, like, in my face,” you mumble, embarrassed just to admit it. “Hard seeing all these supermodels and knowing I’ll never look like them.”

Argyle’s lips peck kisses down your throat. “Don’t want you to look like them, anyway,” he tells you. “Love your beautiful curves.”

You sigh in exasperation. “But I want to look like them,” you protest quietly. “I don’t feel beautiful.”

He pauses, carefully choosing his response. “If you’ll let me,” he starts, staring into your eyes with his dark brown orbs, “I’d like to show you just how gorgeous I think you are.”

You nod, curious at what he has planned. Before you can ask any questions, he scoops you up in his arms, muscular from years of pizza-making. You giggle as he plunks you down onto the bed.

“Args,” you manage between peals of laughter, “what’re you doing?”

But Argyle is dead serious, licking his pillowy lips in concentration. “Gonna fuckin’ worship this body of yours, baby girl,” he muses.

His eyes roam your body hungrily. “Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the hem of your pajama shirt.

“Yeah,” you concede. Argyle lifts it over your head, exposing your bare chest. He exhales, a grin spreading across his face.

“So…fucking…perfect…” he breathes, punctuating each word with nipping kisses along your cleavage. You moan lightly, starting to lay down, but he grasps the small of your back and leads you back up.

“Nuh-uh,” he clicks his tongue and points to the full-length mirror that hangs on the closet door. “I want you to watch how sexy you are. Want you to see what I see.”

You’re uncertain, not fully believing that you’ll ever view yourself the way he does, but you reluctantly give it a shot. “Okay, baby. I…I trust you.” And you do. You know he wouldn’t lie to you, so you glance at yourself in the mirror. All you see are imperfections, and you instinctively curl up into yourself.

Argyle trails soft kisses from your neck to your collarbones. “You’re stunning, babe. Look at you. I’d devour you whole if that wasn’t considered cannibalism.” You feel a smile tug at the corners of your mouth. He just has a way of making you feel so safe, even in your most vulnerable moments.

His lithe fingers traipse along your breasts, nipples pebbled from both the chill in the air and his touch. “Baby girl, I dream about your tits. I wanna hold them, suck on them, fuck them, whatever I can to claim them as mine. All mine.” He smiles mischievously. “Can I tell you a secret? They’re my favorite place to cum. Just love seeing ‘em covered in me.”

His lips travel from your upper chest to your arms. “These arms, these hands,” he groans, throwing his head back. His long black hair brushes against your fingers. “Can’t lie to you, honey; I love watching you use your hands. Even when you’re using them to cook or write, I just…I’m mesmerized.”

You look at him incredulously. “My hands? Really?”

“Mhm,” he answers without hesitation. “‘Course, I’m partial to them being wrapped around my dick. Makes it look so big.”

“It is big, Args,” you start to argue, but he silences you with a deep, passionate kiss.

“It’s not about me tonight; it’s about you,” your boyfriend states simply. “I hate when you talk shit about yourself; you’re perfect for me. Fuck what anyone else looks like.” He pauses, gazing at you. “Am I some kinda buff body builder? Hell nah, man, but you love me, right?”

You nod. “Of course I do!” How could he think otherwise?

He slides down to his knees, opening your legs so he can seat himself between them. “I would spend every last minute of every day kissing your body to prove to you just how beautiful you are,” he whispers against your tummy, gripping your hips with his long fingers. “Like these thighs.” He squeezes the plush of your upper legs, sending tingles down your spine. “Jus’ perfect for grabbing and, uh, I fuckin’ love feeling them squeezing me when I eat this pretty pussy.” He blushes slightly at the admission before hooking his forefingers into the waistband of your pants and pulling them down, leaving you in just your panties.

“Now,” he continues, scooting you forward slightly so you’re at the edge of the bed, “your ass. I have this fantasy where you’re laying down, completely naked, and I just roll blunts on it. Is that, like, weird?”

You shake your head. “Kinda sexy, actually,” you admit, earning a chuckle from him.

“Right?” Argyle’s clearly ecstatic that you agree with him. “Maybe we could try it out sometime?” He bites his lower lip, and you lean over and take it between your own. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs.

His hands turn you over so you’re laying on your stomach. He kneads the doughy flesh of your ass, groaning harshly. “I could write, like, fuckin’ sonnets or whatever bullshit I was supposed to learn in school about this thing.” You feel a slight sting as his palm smacks into it, not hard enough to leave a print, but enough to make you wince. “Just…look at it. Never seen a more perfect ass in my whole life.”

Before he can flip you back over, he runs a finger down to your clothed pussy. “Shit, honey,” he exhales as you whimper at the contact, “I can feel how wet you are through your panties.”

“Because of y-you, Argyle,” you stammer. “Please k-keep touching me.”

“As you wish.” He clambers on top of you, kissing down your spine. Your body writhes underneath his mouth, aching for more.

“Argyle,” you whine impatiently. “Please.”

He brings his face closer to yours. “Is that not where you wanted me to touch?” He feigns confusion. “Did you want me to touch…here?” You inhale sharply when his middle finger ghosts over your clit.

“Y-yes. Fuck yes. Right there.”

“Mhm,” Argyle acknowledges, repositioning you on your back. He lowers himself back onto the floor between your trembling legs, pressing his lips to your throbbing cunt. The thin fabric of your panties has never felt so intrusive; all you want is for him to rip them off. Instead, he takes his time, slowly tugging them down your legs.

“This pussy,” he begins with a playful smirk on his face, “has me thinking absolutely sinful dirty thoughts.”

“Like what?”

He throws you a look that can only be interpreted as So glad you asked, baby.

“Like that time you rode me in the back of my van before my shift, and I was so fucked out I fell asleep before I could take a single order. Or the time I fingered you and you came so hard, it dripped down my fuckin’ arm.” He palms himself over his pants at the memory. “Makes me so horny, you have no idea.”

You squirm, making him laugh. “Okay, baby girl. I won’t make you wait any longer.” And with that, he dives between your thighs, licking at your folds. You give out a guttural moan when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently at first, but getting stronger as your whimpers get louder.

“Yes, Argyle. Feels s-so good. Yessss!” The bed rocks back and forth as he ruts against it, attempting to relieve the pressure in his pants. You hiss as he pushes a digit into your pussy, mouth still attentive to your sensitive bud.

“Too much or just enough?” he asks when you buck your hips into him.

“‘Nother finger,” you manage between breathy gasps, and he obliges. “Love being so full of you, Argyle. Love getting all your attention.”

He acknowledges your praise with a hum, sending vibrations through your sex and speeding up your release. His tongue hungrily laps at your cunt as his fingers plunge in and out of you at a rapid pace.

“Don’tstopdon’tstopohpleasedon’tstop,” you plead. “I’m coming, gonna cum for you.”

“Watch yourself cum, baby.” Argyle’s voice is slightly muffled, but you can hear his orders just fine. “Watch how fucking gorgeous you are when you cum for me.”

Your legs rest gracefully on his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cheeks, clenching as he hits your sweet spot over and over. Your tits heave as you lean into your orgasm. And in that moment, when you reach your peak, you see some of that beauty.

When your breathing slows and your legs stop shaking, Argyle pulls back and wipes his slick-covered mouth with his hand. “Still the sweetest pussy,” he coos.

“Let me take care of you,” you offer, motioning for him to come closer, but he just shakes his head and laughs.

“That, um, won’t be necessary.” His gaze lowers to the damp patch spreading on the crotch of his pants. “Got me so worked up just talking about how incredible you are, an’ when I started eating you out…couldn’t hold back.” He’s not embarrassed in the slightest; in fact, he seems downright proud that he got off making his girl cum.

“I love you,” you tell him, beaming. “I love you, I love you, I fucking love you.”

“I love you more,” he says, and you just stick out your tongue in protest.

“Y’know,” you start cheekily, “that was really good. I could use a smoke after coming that hard.”

“Oh?” Argyle raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah…you wanna roll one for me?” You give a suggestive shake of your ass, knowing you have him in the palm of your hand.

And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

—

#kinkmas 2022 #argyle #argyle stranger things #argyle smut #argyle x y/n #argyle x reader #argyle x fem!reader #argyle x you #argyle x female reader #argyle x f!reader #argyle fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfic

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sevikasleftpussyflap · 3 years ago

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Why do I feel like I'd annoy the shit out of Sevika just because I'm super clingy and always want to cuddle or have some sort of physical affection lol

Probably because you would

Anyway Here’s this WIP thing I have:

Hot air hits your cheek in forceful blows, smoke just narrowly avoiding your eye each time. There’s a chill in your room due to the broken heater that your landlord refused to fix. The only things you had to combat it were thin blankets, Sevika’s body heat, and her irritated puffs of smoke warming your cheek in an effort to get you to stop talking.

“If someone tried to buy me with-“

“I’d pay them to take you. Shut up and sleep.”

A convenient shiver wracked through your body. Despite Sevika’s irritation, unbridled glee filled your chest when her grip tightened on you, her other hand going to tuck the blankets tighter around you on the side she wasn’t on.

“I’m killing your fucking landlord tomorrow.”

“The fact that you haven’t already done so is so neglectful as a girlfriend.” You said, staring up at the damp parts of her hair you had chewed on earlier. It’s not your fault her half ponytail was so cute and you will proudly blame the victim in this case.

“Good.”

“You’re so pretty.”

“I’m leaving you on someone’s doorstep.” Sevika’s arm tightened around your back, crushing you to her chest until your struggling breaths were audible in the quiet room.

“Serious. Love your-“

More smoke. Blew on your forehead this time.

“I’m going to choke you out.”

“Please?” You loved how defensive Sevika got when you complimented her.

Especially when you first met and she wasn’t close enough to you to throw bullying quips your way or crush you until your air supply was cut off. The first time you did it was over dinner with some grossly affectionate compliment involving her eyes. The pretty, murdering extortionist had gruffly thanked you and changed the topic quicker than she downed her alcohol.

You had been pleasantly surprised, and amused, because she had put the moves on you so fast your head had spun. Her compliments were unique and suave, with a practiced sort of feel to them that still made you feel unique. She just couldn’t take what she dished out.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll tell Babette to put you on a corner.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Silence.

A glance up provided you with a view of Sevika’s smug smirk.

“Sevika, there’s no way you’d let me work at the brothel.”

“Why the hell not? Go make Momma some money.”

“You’re stupid.” You nuzzled your head into her chest like you would a pillow, only much harsher than necessary.

“I wouldn’t have anything to worry about.” Laughter was so audible in her voice, you could taste the clever quip she thought up and was so proud of.

When you didn’t respond, her shoulder jostled you from where you laid, trying to peacefully settle into sleep.

“Fucking what?” You griped. Gods, she was rubbing off on you too much (and you, her, apparently.)

“Ask me why I wouldn’t have to worry.” Her voice was obnoxiously loud around her chuckles, easily disrupting the quiet of the room like she did everywhere else.

“No.” More probes with her arm. “Stop bothering me while I’m trying to sleep.”

“I wish I had the words to explain how much I don’t care. Ask me.”

“Sevika.”

Your name was thrown back at you, full of energy and void of the exhaustion that was present five minutes ago.

“You wouldn’t have to worry because they would pay not to have me. Was that the punchline?”

Like a leech, you fed off of the disappointment and joy that you sucked out of her as you ruined her joke.

“You’re no fun.”

#sevika imagine #sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader

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phantomrose96 · 3 years ago

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Joyrider

(Welcome to another warm-up writing piece. cw for mild body horror)

...

The mall food court doubled rather nicely as a battle-dome.

It fit the bill: a flat and circular arena, crowned two-stories up by a hemisphere of glass windows which lapsed iridescent in the maelstrom of ecto-fire.

Spectator chairs sat empty, hastily shoved back and knocked over by the Amity Park mall patrons who knew to leg it at the first sound of explosions and the first sign of the atmosphere tipping dark. Admittedly, the patron evacuation took longer than Danny anticipated, and he backed himself into a corner playing defense for the 50 some-odd people who, worn-out on the every-day mundanity of ghost alarms, took their time gathering belongings, or shutting off burners, or working in a few last bites of a burger.

So with the crowd gone and the stage their own, Danny found himself pressed back against a vat of french fry oil, hands braced against the handle of a broom he held out horizontally, which the ghost gripped with equal measure and shoved her full weight against.

“Oh, why not take a little dip, Ghost Boy? I hear the water’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Danny answered, shoving harder. “I never was much of a hot tub guy. You on the other hand—”

Danny set a foot forward and pivoted, body fueling the torque as he spun the broom, and tore the ghost with him, a pirouette to swap their spots and jam the ghost back-pressed to the fryer.

“—you seem like you’d like it hot.”

The ghost barked a laugh, jaw stretching lower and loose than Danny was comfortable with.

“Ha! You sure? Not very heroic of you to deep fry this girl I’m possessing.”

Danny faltered. His grip slipped. His blood chilled to ice as the information clicked in place – as he recognized the sensation of a ghost talking through someone. This wasn’t the ghost’s own form. This was some girl. How had he not felt—

A blast took him by the ribs. Danny doubled over, immediately kicked back. A foot found contact with his face, driving him down, until the girl’s wet and slippery fingers pinned him down by the wrists.

Danny strained. He could pivot his wrist a fraction of an inch left or right, but he could not break the hold.

“Get off me!”

And a voice answered from behind him.

“I can help with that.”

Danny craned his neck. Upside down, vantage point from the floor, he registered Sam’s combat boots slam into focus. She bent to one knee, a bazooka locked on the other. It charged, whined, and erupted with an explosion of green light.

The ghost shrieked. It took only an instant of resistance before the ghost tore cleanly from the girl possessed.

“Now if you don’t mind me—” Tucker, by the voice. Danny heard the whine of a Fenton Thermos heating up. “—I’d officially like to change my order from fries to soup.”

The beam burst forth, and the writhing, shrieking, yelping form of the exorcised ghost clawed and scratched in Danny’s direction before the thermos consumed her in full.

“Really? ‘Fries to soup’? Even Danny can do better than that.”

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“I was thinking on my feet, Sam. I didn’t hear any witty quips from you.”

The conversation fell away from Danny’s focus as the full human weight of the possessed girl dropped down on him. Gently, Danny gripped her by the shoulder, lifting her as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Your parents’ anti-possession gear is getting good. I don’t think I’ve seen an exorcism work that quickly.” Sam’s voice, now at his side. Danny glanced over, finding her kneeling beside him. “Is she hurt?”

Danny gave the girl a once-over. She was pale, cold, lips seeping blue. A mottled, blackish bruise spread across her temple, partially hidden beneath loose red bangs.

“I don’t… totally know. I didn’t land any hits on her, thankfully. But who knows what that ghost might have done. We should call an ambulance.”

“On it,” Tucker, from behind.

“Do you… do you think the bazooka might have hurt her?” Sam asked.

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad have blasted each other with that thing a hundred times. Dad got himself possessed by the box ghost for a trial run. It doesn’t hurt people. …Maybe she just needs a minute.”

“Lay her down, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Danny eased forward, careful in his movements. Something about his grip slipped, sliding loose and rolling forward, and she fell unceremoniously from his arms, shoulder knocking ground as she lay there partially turned on her side.

“Danny!”

“Sorry! I didn’t—something slipped!”

“Well don’t leave her like—” Sam gripped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, weight behind her wrist to roll the girl fully onto her back. Sam’s hand froze, and then yanked away.

“What?” Danny asked.

“That didn’t feel right.” Sam only stared down, her hand hovering, twitching in increments. “Way too cold… and loose.”

“Loose?”

“Danny, look at her hands. What’s wrong with her hands?”

Danny looked. The skin stretched and wrapped the bones of her fingers as if rotated partway around. Her fingernails sat off-center, twisted around and bunched up like a glove. Sam’s hand came back into view, and she clamped it to the girl’s wrist.

“It’s like jelly. Danny it’s like jelly. Why is she this cold? Danny, I don’t think she’s—”

Something new caught Danny’s eye, a purple discoloration peeking out from the bottom ruffles of the girl’s shirt. His hands seemed to move on their own as he reached down, and pinched the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it back.

Black bruising consumed her torso, caving deep and bloating, pruning around the trails of heavy stitching that ran along the tracks of surgical cuts carving through her abdomen.

Danny yanked his hand away as if burned.

“Danny, she’s not breathing.”

The rest of Danny’s thoughts drowned in the swelling wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

…

Outside the Fenton Portal, green lighting doused the only part of Danny’s form not hidden in shadow, and danced with the fire of his glowing green eyes. Danny uncapped the thermos in his hand, and he trailed his thumb along the eject switch.

A new consuming green light belted forth, lasting only a moment until it vanished with a twin-braided ghost in its wake. The ghost blinked, smoothing over her hair and pulling the ends of her braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s the Ghost Boy again. I thought you’d just throw me back in the Ghost Zone. Are you interested in a round 2?”

“No, not interested,” Danny answered, tone colder than ice.

“Yeesh, you’re quite sour. No more puns?”

“Why were you possessing that girl?”

“Hmm?”

“Why were you possessing her?”

The ghost blinked, green portal light mixing murkily with her purple eyes. “No particular reason. It was just a joyride.”

“A joyr—she was dead.”

Another blink. “Yeah I know. She was sitting in the morgue. She was in like a car crash or something and they already took all her organs. They didn’t need her. And I was gonna give her back, but you had to go and make it a whole thing.” The girl swooped forward, eyes wide and roving over Danny. “You seem mad. Wanna call a truce?” She stuck a hand forward. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

Danny jolted, eyes flashing brighter. “No, you’re not. That girl was Melissa.”

“Oh for real?” Melissa let out a chuckle. “Crazy coincidence. I like don’t even know that many Melissas. Anyway truce?”

“No.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “You were possessing the body of a dead girl and you made me fight her! Don’t you see how that’s—that’s so—how fucked up—that you’d even—”

“Well I mean, I didn’t make you fight me. You made that happen. I was minding my business.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping. Why else would I take a body for a joyride? I stole some cute clothes to wear. Stole some food to eat. Oh! That outfit I was wearing when we were fighting? Yeah I picked that out. She was in like a hospital gown when I found her. Super cute improvement right?”

An ectoblast sounded and connected with the wall behind Melissa, missing her a foot to the right. Danny’s hand glowed, and his eyes focused with a razor sharpness.

“Stop talking like that, okay? It’s pissing me off. I need you to tell me you know this was fucked up.”

Melissa put a finger to her chin. “I mean I guess stealing is kinda wrong. They were all like, big box corporate stores don’t worry.”

“The. Dead. Body.”

And Melissa fell silent a moment, violet eyes probing deep into Danny’s before widening. “Oh. Oh you’re like for-real mad about that. Like actually. I thought you were like, making an ironic joke.”

“Why the hell would I be joking about this??”

Melissa cocked her head to the side. “Well because you’re doing it too, duh. Like, duh.”

A huff of air cut against Danny’s teeth, an involuntary noise, incredulous, a guffaw he didn’t consciously make. The jelly sensation of decomposing flesh was back under his fingers. “I am not—would never—I’ve never even seen a dead body before this thing with you and I’d never in a million years even think for even a fucking second that I’d want to possess a dead body. What’s wrong with you?!”

Melissa bobbed a little in the air, ends of her braids trailing over the straps of her ephemeral sundress. “See this is why I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not. What are you talking about? You’re doing it right now.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The black-haired boy whose corpse you’re possessing. Why are you allowed to do it?”

Danny froze. He laughed, heavy, with an uncomfortable force. “Myself, you mean? I’m not possessing myself. I am myself. I’m a half-ghost.”

Melissa met his laugh. “Oh what? No way like, that’s your own corpse? How’d you even get back to it in time? That’s crazy lucky like you must have died right near a portal or something.”

An involuntary shiver traced down Danny’s spine.

“…I’m not dead.” His eyes shifted around, and Danny dropped to the floor. He set a hand against the wall, throwing on the lights to the Fenton basement. Rings swept around his form, green iridescent eyes sweeping blue, white hair seeping black. “Look. Literally look at me. I’m not dead.”

And Melissa swooped closer. She set a finger to her bottom lip and hovered a foot in front of Danny, drinking him in. She swept to the side, like a swimmer in the water, sweeping around him in a full arc. She edged closer and pinched her fingers against the exposed skin on Danny’s arm. He flinched.

“Oh wow there’s like, not even any decay or anything. Your human brain even feels like it’s working it’s all like, electro-magnety. How long were you dead before you got back to your body?”

“I didn’t die.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I got shocked by the Fenton Portal, okay? It was just a lab accident and it gave me powers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Melissa’s eyes shot wide. “Oh you didn’t die near a portal… You died in a portal. You didn’t even have to get back to find your body at all. You must have appeared like practically on top of your own body. That’s crazy lucky. That’s so lucky. Your body was like, probably only dead a microsecond before you hopped back in. No wonder it’s so well-preserved.”

Danny swatted her away. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” Melissa floated backwards. “What do you think is more likely? A bajillion ecto-volts somehow gave you superpowers that exactly mirror everything a regular dead ghost can do? …Or you died, and became a regular old ghost, and did what any regular old ghost can do, which is possess a freshly-dead dead body?”

“…I’m half-ghost,” Danny answered, human heart pounding in his chest. “I know what I am.”

Melissa bobbed back, feet pointed backwards until the soles of her feet skimmed the matrix of the portal. “I see you’ve made up your mind. That’s alright. But it was still pretty mean of you to accuse me like a big hypocrite like that.”

“I’ll destroy you if you ever try that again.”

“Oh I’ll try asking permission next time okay? Promise.” Melissa’s feet sank into the surface of the portal. “But, before I go, I’ve just got one more question to leave you with.”

“Go.”

“Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?”

“Go.”

“Maybe you’ll have an answer for me next time I see you. Byeee!”

A spark of white erupted from the portal, consuming, absorbing, and fizzling out as Melissa’s form vanished into the ether beyond.

…

“Hey! Yo! Danny, come check this out!”

Danny rounded the stairs, unsocked feet creaking the floorboards with each step. Danny yawned, and blinked, and rubbed at his bruised eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top.

“Still asleep? That’s fine! You don’t have to do anything. Just come over here and look at what your old pop’s been up to.”

Danny entered the living room, where Jack sat hunched on the couch surrounded by an arsenal of power tools, rags, oil, soldering equipment, and scrap metal. From beside him he hefted a bazooka into view.

“This is the Fentonzooka 3.2.17. Amped up and equipped with all the latest in ghost-busting and human-saving technology.”

Danny blinked. “3.2.17?”

“Yep. This baby’s got 17 bug patches, tweaks, and internal improvements since the 3.2.0. The 3.2.0 was the advent of the snack compartment in the side. Look!” Jack spun a dial, revealing a chamber half-filled with pistachios.

Danny only stared.

Jack hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder. “Even better, Mads and I finally got rid of the last little sting humans feel when it’s fired. It’s now completely 100% harmless to humans. It feels like the breeze from a standing fan when it hits ya.” Jack turned, and he aimed the barrel at Danny. “Wanna try it out?”

Danny stood, and Danny stared, and Danny said nothing.

What might happen when it hit him?

Would it hit like the gentle breeze of a fan? Wash over him like air conditioning? Tingle cool and pleasant against his human fingers, human face, human skin?

Would it do something else?

Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?

Jack eased the bazooka a bit off center, pulling his eyes away from the sight. He stared directly at Danny. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Danny stood.

Danny stared.

Danny wondered if he’d have an answer for Melissa the next time he saw her.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #long post #this idea is actually from uhhhhhh probably like 2 years ago #back when i was still in the midst of not being able to write anything so #stuck this idea in the microwave for this warm up fic

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