#what is it about them that’s so perplexing and attractive to someone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

affableramen · 4 months ago

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how they cup your cheeks

fluff, established relationship (pantalone and dottore are angst)

Pantalone

Dominantly grips your chin which causes you to flinch in slight disgust. No one asked him to grab you so roughly. Pantalone gives you a condescending look as if you were but a lowly ant to him before his looks shifts from egomaniacal into something soft and tender. His grip loosens in your chin and he gently cups your cheek from the both sides, looking deeply into your eyes with tad of regret.

Pantalone, then, rubs his thumb over your cheek, a perplexed “oh” escapes his lips when you pull his palm to your mouth and kiss it gingerly. He breathes in and out, hardly believing someone could ever be so forgiving, so patient and kind with him.

Wriothesley

He is much taller than you so he needs to slightly lean to you in order to lovingly cup your cheeks. He likes those sincere, private moments between you too when Wriothesley can do nothing improper and be quite chaste with you. He loves being with you innocently, too. His big calloused hands bring your face closer to his as he rubs his thumb across your face with utmost serenity. You do not expect that from an ex-inmate, but the duke is nothing but a loving puppy when he is around you.

It’s quite tough with the specifics of your job to find quiet moments like this with him, that’s why Wriothesley keep them close to his heart. The both of you are tired enough to bicker too much at some point, so if there is any misunderstanding between you two he would apologise with a lightweight touch against your cheek.

Neuvillette

The judge loves cupping your cheeks. He is a very quiet and serene man by nature so he will never do anything very rapidly, he’d never allow himself to touch you in a way he finds improper, especially without your consent. However be it a touch against your hand with his finger gently or cupping your cheeks when he passes by, he will do it, most gallantly.

When Neuvillette cups your cheeks he always gives you a tiny smile, even his eyes seem to be laughing for you. You smile back to him and place your hand on top of his gloved one, leaning onto his palm. It’s a regular occurance for him to also kiss your forehead after cupping your slightly blushed face. There is a tad bit of greediness on your face, as you seem to not get enough of Neuvillette’s caring hands.

Tartaglia

Ajax cups your face mostly in a humorous way, not romantic, unless you ask him specifically for that. He likes playing with your curls and pinching your cheek. He’d laugh at your surprised and slightly bashful reaction. He is very open with expressing his affection and attachment to you and never skips a single possibility to show it to you in the most obvious way possible.

When Tartaglia cups your cheeks you jump at the unexpectancy mostly, but his touch undeniably feels like home. Looking into his ocean-blue eyes you smile and attempt you cup his face back too.

Capitano

Capitano doesn’t often show his affection openly for he has very ancient manners and understanding of affection, as well as his stiff, restrained personality not allowing him to do so. It’s common knowledge that he would even speak words of affection quite rarely, but what makes him so attractive and your beloved man is not his words.

His actions mostly. Because no matter how stiff he is he will still come to you after a tiresome day and kiss you in the forehead. After delivering a cute kiss to your forehead he will sit close to you and just hold your face for a long while, simply listening to your heartbeat and go about questions like “how was your day? is your health well?” etc.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham’s touches consist of sly diffidence and bashfulness, for he is a convinced introvert. Although you cannot deny that he touches you very gingerly. In the pale moonlight he will place your hand to the sight of your face, for you to lean on it and gaze into his eyes with affection and feeling he had never known before. He considers himself lucky to be the object of your love.

His face remains solemn and serious, the scholar’s eyes remain wise and his whole composure almost unnoticeably morphs into the more relaxed one as you let him touch your face gingerly and carefully. The quiet night breeze enters through the window, the coolness of it brings Alhaitham’s light, herbal-like cologne into light. You find yourself attracted to this tiny smell of his and shut your eyes, enjoying the sense of tranquility, while the scholar’s hand still cups your cheek.

Dottore

Dottore is not exactly touchy-feely but when he is feeling frustrated or either irritated it will in most occasions end up in seeking comfort from you. Even if he inevitably offends you with his words or movements that are too much, he will fix whatever the mess he has done.

Gripping your chin in his fingers Dottore looks at you judgementally. He cannot believe how a tiny thing like you would case him so much trouble. But he finds himself smitten, drawn to you. Crawling back to you in the hopes of seeking comfort. You say that his grip is painful and he should not project his anger issues onto you, and Dottore immediately drops you with a horrified expression. He was not even aware of the term “projecting” before. Carefully he places his hand back to your face but this time without gripping your chin forcefully. His fingers gently graze over your cheek with quiet “I’m sorry, doll”.

Dainsleif

Most of the times you are the one who cups his cheek so Dainsleif would like to return the favour one day, and he does it successfully.

When you cup his cheeks you do it playfully and with a smug smirk on your face, coz your boyfriend has a consistent ominous expression with which you have been used to living for quite a while. He is not exactly above depressed and menacing, but Dainsleif also has his soft spot and you were dying to find them. Gentle, innocent touch did him justice and Dain returns it to you with no less kindliness as you have given him before. His blue eyes gaze at you seriously and gloomily, but you certainly know what the love looks like. It may not be in his face, but in the movement of his hand, in the gentleness of his touch, undoubtedly.

Baizhu

Baizhu is a sly person who is also very emotionally intelligent and distrusting to many people. However with you he feels himself burning with strong feelings considerably. You love when he touches your face, because of how gentle his fingers, despite of having been in so many dangers, are. They are thin and elegant; and nothing about them can make you unhappy.

Baizhu gently cups your cheek, pressing his face close to yours so your noses touch. The action is very personal and intimate. You try to slowly move your hands through his emerald hair, but so lightweightly so it does not rob you of the precious moment. Baizhu hums in respond, saying the words of comfort to you and asking if your day has been well or if you want to share something, anything - he’ll be there for you. You can tell him absolutely anything, he persuades.

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temis-de-leon · 3 months ago

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When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

‘It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

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melancholyhigh · 1 year ago

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CRUSH CULTURE.

ft. college au!leon x reader

synopsis. you fuck up at being leon’s wingman, ruining his chances of getting a valentine’s day fuck. he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on you.

tags. 2.8k words. smut. mean!leon, lowk angsty, reader is kinda pathetic, angry fuck, dry humping, cunnilingus, dom!leon, rough sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, name calling (bitch, whore etc.), happy ending (?).

note. i’m sorry for being so inactive and rarely being online. school sucks so bad. i hope you guys can accept this as a formal apology. (let’s ignore that this is 2 days late.)

masterlist. reblogs & comments are highly welcomed :3

You aren’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. You're sick of seeing everyone fall in love, watching lovers exchange cheesy gifts and bashful smiles. You’re sick of people pretending they love each other more than they actually do. No, you’re sick of being left out.

You were a hopeless romantic, chasing love only for it to fall flat. You were obsessed with finding your other half, the person who would cherish you as much as you treasured them. You didn’t know if you loved love or just the idea of it, but it wouldn’t matter.

You’re only hopeless as you help the man you liked hook up with someone at a shitty college party.

It’s pathetic, truly, chatting up some sorority girls and putting a good name out for Leon while he stood beside you. You didn’t get why he couldn’t do it himself. He was handsome, albeit a bit awkward, but so were you. It’s why you two got along anyway. Leon was watching as you tried to get the drunk girl’s attention on him. Throughout the night, your wingman skills had only failed. They either did not pay attention to you or paid too much attention to you.

You were sick of it. You would have preferred staying in your dorm room and rewatching one of your favourite rom-coms. But you were only a fool, trying to help your friend out. It hurt more being there with him as he lamely tried to pick up girls in front of you. You didn’t know what was more pathetic, his terrible jokes or the state you were, absolutely heartbroken that he wouldn’t give you the time of day he’d give to random girls.

Maybe it’s faith’s cruel way of commentating on your desire for love by making you play cupid for the only person you seem to care about more than yourself.

You and Leon had something special, or you had hoped so. You met in your first year of college. You were both fucking awkward that you had to initiate the first conversation. Majoring in similar subjects, you both had gotten along well. You would even say you were best friends, but you knew deep down you always wanted more.

Ever since you first met, you found him enthralling. It only got worse as you got closer. Learning more about him seemed to solidify your pining for him. You were the only person he talked to, and vice versa. You confided in each other, maybe more than what close friends should, so it was only inevitable that he would share with you that he wanted to lose his virginity.

You had looked at him perplexed. Leon was pretty attractive, and maybe you were biased, but how had no one fucked him? You’ve seen the way girls look at him, blushing when he even glances at them for a second.

That is when Leon told you he planned on trying to hook up with some girl at the party, and he wanted your help because he knew he would fuck up somehow. You had humoured him. Nothing more romantic than taking a random girl home on Valentine’s Day and fucking her brains out.

–-

“It’s not that serious, Leon,” you groaned for the umpteenth time. You were both walking back to his apartment after unsuccessfully trying to hook him up with some sorority girl. He was grumbling behind you, pissed and sexually frustrated.

“It was your fault.” You roll your eyes at his statement. When you reach the door of his flat, you observe as he clumsily takes his keys out, trying to open the door. He finally manages to open the door, and you enter, taking your shoes off before settling on his couch.

You watch him beyond amused at his predicament as he paces back and forth in front of you.

“Why did you have to mention that? They were so into me before you fucked it up,” he huffs, stilling his movement to glare at you.

“C’mon, Leon. I’m sure they couldn’t give a fuck that you’re a nerd,” you said, repeating the same word you had let slip when you were praising your beloved best friend. You peered back up at him, acting casual as if his icy gaze didn’t have your heart beating wildly against your chest. You rarely saw him angry, and when he was, he never directed it to you.

“You ruined my chances at finally getting laid. I don’t know how to talk to these girls. You’re the only person I have.” He’s frustrated with you for fucking up whatever chance he finally had at popping his cherry. Even though logically it’s not your fault nor your duty to get his dick wet, he didn’t want to take responsibility right now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you sighed, standing up and moving towards him. You try to put a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder, and he shrugs your touch off him. You don’t take it to heart. He’s a few inches taller than you, head slightly tilted as he looks down at you.

“Yeah? Well, now I have no one to fuck tonight.”

“I can change that,” you quip, and you instantly freeze at your own statement. You part your lips lightly in shock as you observe Leon’s reaction. It was a freudian slip, and it seemed to be happening more often than you’d like.

He continues looking down at you with furrowed brows as he tries to comprehend what you said. He thinks this might affect your friendship if you even mean what you said. He was horny, being teased all night by pretty girls in skimpy dresses, only to be denied, fucking furious too.

“Really?” He responds, somehow stepping closer to you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you try to back up, only to be pushed against the wall by him. His stare is still cold, piercing through you. He’s still pissed at you.

“Are you still mad?” You mumbled, your back flat against the wall of his living room. You knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it. Maybe you found his mean side more attractive than you’d like to admit. It was so rare to see him like this — a usually composed man so broken.

“Yes, I’m still fucking angry. Do you want me or not?” He seethes. You squeeze your thighs together at the tone he uses. You were so pathetic, getting wet at him berating you, but any attention was good attention.

He notices your reaction, grinning to himself. “You backing down?”

You shake your head no in response.

“Beg for it then. Beg for me to fuck you. That’s what you want, right?” He says, mocking you. It’s as if he knows how deep your desire burns for him, how badly you’d do anything for him if it meant he noticed you. His hands grasp your face, his fingers squishing your cheeks together as he forces your head back against the wall so you look up at him.

“Please, Leon. Fuck me. ‘M all yours.” You plead through pursed lips. Your eyes are glossy, and he’s laughing at your desperate nature. He would have never expected his best friend to be a whiny mess within his grasp.

He lets go of your face before leaning down, capturing your lips into his for a needy kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, and a surprised gasp escapes you. Teeth clashing, you’re whimpering desperately against his lips as you entangle your fingers into his soft golden locks. His hands trail down to your hips, gripping them as he moves his body against yours.

You let out a soft moan, and he pulled apart from the passionate kiss. Both your lips are swollen and covered with your shared saliva. He continues to grope your body eagerly as he pushes you further into the wall. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you.”

Biting your lip, you try not to let any moans slip free while he toys with your sensitive body through your clothes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip while he explores your body. He grinds his hardening cock against your crotch, and the action does little to quell the ache inside you.

Your back arches off the wall, your head tipping back as you try to buck your hips to his. Digging your nails into his shirt, he hisses slightly, but your movements don’t get past him.

“So fucking desperate,” he moans loudly.

He continues to rock his clothed erection against your cunt. The rough fabric of your pants provides enough friction through your damp underwear to your clit. Your hand clamps around your mouth shut, suppressing your whines as you near your climax.

Leon’s eyes close while he groans lowly at the pleasure coursing through him as he ruts against you. He wants so badly to feel your dripping cunt against his throbbing length. Just as you’re about to finish, he pulls away, panting, and the feeling in your core dissipates.

“I want to fuck you properly.” You’re unsure if he knew what he had just done, but with the smug look he’s giving you, you’re positive it’s on purpose.

You push yourself off the wall of his living room, and with trembling legs, you follow him to his bedroom. You were familiar with the area and used to the messy appearance while you two were either doing work or binging shows. But it’s different now, he’s going to fuck you dumb in it.

You both begin to rid yourself of your clothes once you’re inside. You’re fully nude, lying flat on Leon’s mattress, and your skin feels tacky with sweat as it clings to his soft sheets. Leon is only in his boxers, precum staining the fabric, as his strong palms spread your bent legs apart to admire your bare pussy.

You realise that this is most likely his first time seeing one other than in porn videos he jerks himself off to. He marvels at how wet you are, your folds glistening with your slick. Leaning down, he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you.

His tongue teases your entrance before slowly moving to your clit. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive nub and lapping at it slowly. He looks like he’s concentrated as he focuses on pleasing your cunt, his brows furrowed and his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs.

You can’t help the moans and sighs that slip past your lips while he eats you out. The pleasure is nearly dizzying as you grip the sheets. Your hips are bucking against his tongue, and Leon groans as you use his face. He’s not so subtly grinding against the sheets, his cock painfully hard as he fails to relieve the sensation.

Tentatively, he slurps at you, drinking in your essence. The wet, sloppy noises your cunt makes are embarrassing, but he’s obsessed with it and your taste. It’s addictive. He sucks at your clit roughly, adoring the reaction you give him. Your tummy clenches as he pays attention to your throbbing bud. Your sounds are getting more frequent as your orgasm quickly approaches you.

When you finally come undone, your thighs are quivering around his head as he revels in your release. He parts from your cunt, his lips coated in your cum like lip gloss as he licks them clean. Trying to collect yourself, your chest heaves as you pant heavily.

Leon slips his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. His cock was flushed red and dripping with precum as he stroked it. It was average in length but quite thick and prettier than you had imagined. But you shouldn’t act surprised.

You let out a whimper when he slid the tip of his cock through your folds stained with your cum and his saliva. Your pussy was overstimulated, spasming as he teased your entrance with his head.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he groans, gripping your hip to steady himself. The heat of your cunt was welcoming as it tried to suck him inside you. His tip touches your overly sensitive clit. He was quickly losing his composure, desperate to fuck you open.

You both moan simultaneously when he fully enters his length inside of you. Your walls were sucking his cock deeping into you, filling you up to the brim with nothing but him.

You had not imagined your first time with Leon like this. You daydreamed of him taking you out on a cute date before undressing you and then fucking you slowly on a bed littered with rose petals. You did not anticipate that he’d split you open on his cock as a last resort taking his sexual frustration out on you. You can’t complain with how good he’s fucking you, even if it’s out of spite.

He begins thrusting his cock in and out of tight pussy, groaning. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks the shape into you. You sometimes forget how well-built he is, usually concealed by his clothes, sweat dripping down his muscular frame.

“Your cock feels so fuckin’ good, Leon,” you gasped out loud, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you out of his fat cock.

“This was your plan, huh? You wanted me to fuck you, whore.” He says as he punctuates each word with a thrust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock presses against you deliciously. You did want him all to yourself, but you wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage him. You’re unable to answer him, too drunk on his cock bullying into that one spot inside of you.

“Answer me, bitch.” He huffs, gripping your jaw and positioning your face to his. He looks into your eyes only to note how they can barely stay open. His hips stutter at your fucked out expression. He was so fucking close, his abs flexing, only holding out so you can cum first.

“Y- Yeah, Leon. Want to you all for myself,” you stammer incoherently, tears collecting at your waterline as he pounds into your oversensitive cunt. Your walls grip around his cock sporadically as you near your climax.

“You like me too, then?” he mocks through clenched teeth. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he thinks he might never want to leave your warm embrace.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, your body squirming in his hold. Your peak was rapidly approaching as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Answer the question then you can come,” he whines, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks as he nears his peak.

“Mhm! Yes, I’ve always fucking liked you, Leon.” You cried out, eager to expose all your secrets to him if it meant you came. As you climax, your pussy milks Leon’s cock as it gushes around him.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Leon moans, his voice breathy as his orgasm crashes after yours. He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of your confession or the whimpers that escape your throat that send butterflies in him as he spills into you. He kisses you one last time, moaning into you as he rides his high.

Pulling out, he collapses right next to you. You’re both panting, covered in cum and sweat. A wave of exhaustion overcomes you, and you hope he doesn’t bring up what you said amidst fucking. You’re content pretending it didn’t happen if it meant you wouldn’t get to face your fears.

“Thank you for uh,” Leon trails off, and it's like a switch flipped. He’s bashful at mentioning that he had just lost his virginity as if he wasn’t calling you a whore a few minutes ago. Turning to his side, you come nearly face-to-face with him once again.

“Mhm, you’re welcome, I think.” You’re still unsure how you feel about the situation. Finally, you had fucked him, but what significance did it hold to him? Your eyes flutter shut, sleep finally overcoming your wrecked body. You expected the same would happen to Leon, but you were wrong. Leon was in deep thought.

Leon calls your name, cutting your sleep short. You snap your eyes open, sitting up, you await his question with your arms crossed. He looked uneasy, but you’re too drained to question why.

“Did you mean what you said? That you liked me.” His voice is quiet as he gazes at your form.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. What was even the point of lying anymore? His cum was dripping between your thighs. What is the worst he can do? You think you can already guess his response. Guilt was eating at you. He wouldn’t be in this position if you did what he wanted. You added, “Sorry for fucking up your night.”

It’s quiet, and you’re nervously trying to gauge his reaction until he breaks the silence.

“I think I found someone better,” he responds. You laugh at the mere absurdity of the entire situation.

“It took fucking me to find that out?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #gender neutral reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil #re4 smut #idk how to do conclusions #✩‧₊˚ fics

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earthtooz · 5 months ago

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earth i need to catch up on ur ratio fics (i read some of flower one and i ate that shit up omg) because now the thought of seething annoying veritas being all angry whenever you even look at someone else infests my mind like an annoying worm. i hope you know this is what those fics do to me

x : EQUILIBRIUM : *+ﾟ

in which: ratio navigates through the perplexities of pining after you.

warnings: fluff, 1.6k words, intelligentsia guild!gn!reader is kind of a social butterfly and talkative, ratio is so pathetic i love him T^T, alcohol, aventurine feature! my writing isn't the best for this one i apologise :,D

a/n: thank u for the ask mhie!! i wanted to say that you enabled me perfectly because ever since his release, i've only ever thought about this one scenario where he's staring at reader from afar and absolutely seething because he's not the one talking to them xD sorry for taking so long omfg and im sorry for turning this into a fic, i just saw my opportunity and lunged at it like an animal rawr

Jealousy and envy are not familiar concepts to Dr. Ratio.

He knows of them, understands the inner workings and philosophical aptitude of both, knowing that they lead man down irrational paths. Yet, for all his years, he has not felt the bitterness of jealousy and envy squeeze him, cannot fathom why one cannot control their feelings and maintain modesty.

Perhaps, the root of it was whatever Ratio wanted, he received. The only thing he has ever craved is knowledge, and it is available for him with the flick of a page, absorbing even the most complex of theories with ease. Conceptual, mathematical, scientific- not a single school of thought has hidden itself from his vast mind, proven by the many PhDs he has with his name.

Everything fickle that anyone could ever crave has long been his.

Envious over someone else’s wealth? Money comes and goes, and merely serves as a medium of exchange. As long as he has enough to live comfortably, then he is content. Having too much of one thing can often result in a bottomless pit of wanting more, and material good was perhaps the most evil of all.

Jealous over someone else’s beauty? Compliments and adoration are not an unfamiliar concept to him; one glance at what’s under that stone mask will have others fawning over him instantly. He claims the mask is to protect him from idiots, but perhaps it also serves to shield others from the walking sculpture that is the Veritas Ratio, sharp features and toned body, there is nothing undesirable about him.

In conclusion, jealousy and envy are not familiar concepts to Dr. Ratio. Until he met you.

A fellow member of the Intelligentsia Guild but in another department, you too are a favoured delegate of the IPC, frequently attending the same events and trips as him. Thus, it was only natural that you’d become acquainted and that he’d grow to respect you, hearing about your achievements and dedications as an academic. What was unnatural, however, was the palpitations of his heart, weakness in his knees, paired with an overwhelming excitement to see you.

He’s no fool. These sensations were all symptoms of romantic attraction, but you were a variable uncounted for in the distribution of his life, and he was not ready for an outlier so powerful that it completely ‘skewed’ him over.

Now, he laments in the corner of champagne parties meant for socialites. He is no lover of mundane interaction but as his contract with the IPC, he comes as a representative of the Intelligentsia Guild.

These formal events always drained the life out of him, needing him to discard his everyday, flowey, carefree attire for a constraining suit, conforming him into the regular majority.

He raises the glass of champagne to his lips and takes a small sip, the liquor serves as lubricant to the throat. The smooth finish of the drink is exactly what he needs; talking about the same subject again and again becomes exhausting, and even though it is in his role criteria, Ratio cannot wait to leave.

But he won’t, because he hasn’t seen you yet.

Glancing around the room for the upteemth time this evening, you still have not entered his line of sight, and he leans against the bar in disappointment.

“Oh, why the long face, Ratio?” A mischievous voice coos from beside him. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“Spare me your sentiments, gambler,” Ratio spits back.

“As you wish. Not enjoying the party?”

“If you have something you wish to say then please, spare me the pleasantries.”

Aventurine laughs, all boisterous and extravagant, gold jewelry clicking against each other, as if coming alive to match his jovialness. He really is a personified headache. “You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

The scholar tenses, muscles tugging at the stiff fabric of his blazer, but that micro action was enough of an answer for Aventurine.

A gloved hand points up to the mezzanine of the grand hall. Ratio spots you, leaning against the railing whilst conversing with another man, one briefly talked to earlier. If he didn’t like him before, then he certainly didn’t now.

Handsome face turning into a small scowl, it’s almost as if you feel the intensity of a certain, golden stare, causing you to turn around and find the source, eyes eventually landing on the figures of a coworker or two. A brief smile graces your face before you turn around again, turning your back on the two onlookers.

Ratio loathes what he sees, and something within him yearns to be the only man you look at, causing an ugly, green sensation to brew within him; a concoction that can only be labelled as ‘jealousy’.

He just cannot figure out what other men have that he doesn’t; what is making him secondary in your heart? Why do you give these... idiots the time of day when you could be with him- talking to him?

It's all too perplexing, you make him perplexed.

“Well, go on, doctor,” Aventurine prompts. “Place your bets before it’s too late.”

The purple-haired sighs, pushing himself off the bar. His feet take him to you, up the velvet-carpeted stairs. His gaze never strays from you, ensuring you stay within his line of sight and eventually, he stops right behind you, acting as a looming shadow.

His gaze is cold, hoping to pierce through your conversation partner so he can finally cower away and make room for Ratio.

“Doctor!” You exclaim, surprised by his sudden appearance. “When did you get here?”

Taking a hint, the stranger finally begins to peel himself away. “It was lovely talking to you, Y/n. I hope this won’t be our last conversation.”

“Likewise, have a lovely evening,” you farewell him with a small smile as the other party turns and eventually disappears from sight.

Finally. Triumph and victory settles in Ratio’s chest when your attention is directed solely at him, but you look up at him with arms crossed and a raised eyebrow.

“I swore I saw you downstairs moments ago, how did you get up here so fast?”

“I simply walked a normal pace, is that so abnormal?”

“I suppose not,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Veritas allows himself a glance over of your outfit, admiring you. “Have you talked to anyone interesting?”

You are by far the most interesting part of the evening, he thinks.

“Hardly,” he murmurs.

“My guess is that you’d prefer to be grading student papers?” You muse, leaning in closer.

His heartbeat spikes. “Well, that is hard to say. Which would you prefer?”

“As much as I love my students, I need a break from the same thesis statements regurgitated in different formats. I’d rather be here.”

“Then that is my answer too.”

You give him a look that says ‘really?’, clearly not believing his aloof statement. Truthfully, he would rather be here because here is where you are, and he’d like a few moments with you before returning to the gloominess of his office. The hour hand is only at 11, what’s the rush?

Then, your eyes flicker to his neckline and they widen briefly, as if finding an issue with his tuxedo. “Hold still,” you command, hands coming up to rest on his sturdy chest.

You’re fixing his tie, he realises, feeling the fabric tighten ever so slightly as you adjust it. When you’re done, you flatten out the material with a satisfied smile, running your hands casually over his chest, and he hopes you cannot feel his heart jump. How do you touch him so easily, as if it means nothing?

“It was crooked,” you explain, “now you are looking as sharp as ever, Doc.”

“Thank you,” is the best thing he can sputter out.

“No problem, we need to have our genius looking proper at all times!”

Ratio is too stunned to speak, he fears that if he tried, whatever leaves his mouth will result in a various garbles and attempts at sentences.

Thankfully, you haven’t run out of words to say. “Oh, I have yet to get a drink! Will you accompany me? I could go for some refreshments right now.”

He nods and extends an arm for you to hold, and you happily accept it, holding onto his bicep as you ramble on about a conversation exchanged earlier in the night. If you were anyone else, he would not have cared in the slightest, but instead, he listens intently, taking slow and measured steps downstairs so you are comfortable.

In this bubble, the esteemed scholar is content. With you so close, it feels as if everything has clicked into place, like the scales of fate have finally balanced and equilibrium has been achieved. He could listen to you forever.

Unfortunately, all good things don’t last, because a face Ratio doesn’t recognise approaches you, hand resting on your shoulder. Judging from the manner of which they address and talk to you, you are close, and you don’t shrug them off. Next thing he knows, you’re ripped away from him, dragged into the sea of people.

You spare him a glance over your shoulder, as if apologising for the sudden disruption.

Still, he sighs, left behind with nothing but fervent symptoms of love clinging to his being, squeezing him for all he is.

#earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 9 months ago

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Glasses | Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: Spencer shows up in new glasses and it awakens some new feelings for your fellow BAU agent.

A/N: I wrote this a month ago procrastinating studying for my exam 4 on Tuesday after I saw this GIF and finally finished it tonight. so here it is - hope you enjoy! this is NOT proofread. Sorry for any mistakes.

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

**Aye Warning: this is PG 13 - little raunchy at the end *

You and your fellow agents sat around the round table in the conference room. A new case had come to light, JJ gathering you all before you even had time to sit down at your desk. Fresh coffee sat in front of you and just the smell brought comfort. You glanced around the table, missing one of your agents. Spencer. Usually he beat you to work every morning, reprimanding and teasing you about it.

“If you’d drink the coffee here instead of stopping every morning on your way to work, you’d actually be on time and beat me here.” Spencer teases following you through the glass double doors. He was in his usual work attire - slacks and a button up. His hair a curly mess. His messenger bag hung over his shoulder.

You turned around to face him, walking backwards a few steps and made a face, mocking him, “I’m not drinking that tap water you all call coffee.” You saluted your coffee cup toward him, “I will always be late for a nice, fresh cup of coffee.”

“Where’s Spencer?” You asked, sipping on your coffee and flipping open the case file JJ tossed in front of you.

She took a moment to glance around the room, perplexed Spencer wasn’t here yet. “I actually don’t know.” She peeked out the window overlooking the rest of the office, “Usually he beats you here.”

JJ went on with the meeting, turning on the TV screen to show pictures of the crime scene and now the next missing and possible victim.

“Sorry I’m late-” Spencer says, out of breath as he enters the room in a rush. “I had an appointment and it ran later than expected -” He tosses his bag on the ground with a thud, sitting down and oblivious to the surprised looks from his fellow agents.

Glasses. Spencer was wearing glasses. Your jaw dropped at this new sight, the pen you were chewing on, hanging against your lips. You wouldn’t disagree, Spencer Reid was a very attractive man. I mean you’d admitted that multiple times, but he was also your coworker. A relationship with a coworker could create a rocky atmosphere for the BAU.

He always been an eye candy to look at, however, this new look tossed you over the edge, changing something inside you. You needed him. His touch, his lips against yours. You were overwhelmed with such affection and adoration. Where was this coming from? Immediately your mind went dirty, your face flushed with embarrassment at having those thoughts, scared someone else could hear them.

Spencer met your eyes from across the table, a new twinkle in his eye, “What did I miss?” He’d noticed the effect he had on you, he could read you like a book.

You couldn’t even look him the eye. God what was this man doing to you. A wave of warmth was felt through your body; spreading to your core as new fantasies come to light. A dark mahogany desk... Spencer in a button up, loosening the tie around his neck. Oh god. You sat up quickly as if you were just touched by a hot poker and composed yourself, “JJ was just telling us about the last victims who were found-” Your eyes pleadingly glanced at JJ and the screen behind her.

“Right anyways-”

Everyone had settled into their seats on the jet and you stood, slipping behind the curtain to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge. When you stood back up, you were met with Spencer’s chest, “Shit--Spencer.”

“Did I scare you?” He smiles in triumph, “You’re so jumpy.” He tilted his head as he observed the change in you.

You stepped out of the way as Spencer reached for mini fridge, fumbling for an excuse. “Watched a scary movie last night.”

He hums in response turning to face you, the small countertop digging into your back as you tried to put enough space between you and Spencer. “Which movie?” He glances back over his shoulder, checking the curtain is closed.

You glanced around him as well, wondering what he was looking for, but finally meeting his eyes, “oh you know.. I think it was scream?”

He closes the space between the two of you, slipping his hands behind you and placing them firmly on the countertop behind you.

“Spencer!” A quiet gasp escaped your lips as his body pressed against yours.

“Shhh...” He places his index against your lips as he leans in close, the smell of his aftershave and minty breath hitting you in a wave. His breath is hot against your neck as his lips dance along your neck.

Your entire body submits to his touch. oh god.

“Wouldn’t want them to know what we’ve been up to these last couple months, now would we?”

Comments, likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! x

This tag list is an old one.

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17 , @la-vie-en-amour1 , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant) , @bluerose512 , @lolychu , @varsityalthete

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafe , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen , @reniescarlett

#spencer reid x female!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female!reader fic #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagines #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid x reader fic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine

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inkdrinkerworld · 1 year ago

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Talk Too Much

Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader

Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it

Wc: 2.2k

You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.

That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.

It’s not on purpose.

It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.

You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.

His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.

He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.

You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.

He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.

Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.

It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.

What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.

You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.

Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.

The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.

He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.

It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.

“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”

It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.

You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.

You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.

Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.

You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.

“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,

“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”

James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.

You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.

It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.

“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.

Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.

Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.

It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.

You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.

You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.

His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.

‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”

There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.

“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.

“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”

Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.

You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”

Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.

“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.

“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.

“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.

Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.

“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.

“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.

“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”

Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.

“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”

The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.

“I make you nervous?”

Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.

“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.

“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.

Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.

Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.

“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.

Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.

What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.

There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.

It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.

Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.

You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.

Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”

He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”

You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”

Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.

That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.

“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”

Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.

“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.

“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.

His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.

You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.

No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.

“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”

You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”

#remuslupin #remus lupin #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x black!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x loud but shy!reader

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angelbarelywrites · 11 months ago

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | first meeting (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda)/ Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; Billy Lenz, mentions of violence and general slasher activity, kidnapping, stalking

♡ notes; i didn’t include Bubba last time, so i slipped him in with the pt 2 team :v

also for ghostface i went with Danny over Billy + Stu, just because i’m more comfortable writing older characters tbh. and he’s very attractive to me. maybe i can do a college au fic of them in the future?

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> you were lost

> utterly, hopelessly lost without a map, compass, or even your backpack

> you were out camping with a couple of new friends when you wandered off to pick flowers

> well, acquaintances more like- they weren’t particularly nice to you, but you knew one from your home town

> before you knew the sun was starting to set and you had no clue which way to go

> you’re kicking yourself for being so dumb but try to make the best of it, continuing to collect flowers and pretty rocks

> soon enough you find yourself on the edge of a lake

> that couldn’t have been good- there weren’t any lakes near the campsite at all

> maybe this was that old summer camp they’d mentioned?

> either way you turn around and try your best to retrace your steps

> but even with a full moon it’s just too dark and too dense and you’re exhausted

> holding in tears, you find a small meadow and finally sit to rest

> you’re still sniffling and rubbing your eyes when someone walks up to you

> you were so oblivious that Jason was able to get a few feet in front of you before you noticed

> he seems…perplexed to find you there

> he thought he’d gotten all of the campers

> and you didn’t really look like you belonged with those fornicators

> (or at least that’s what he told himself to justify leaving you alive)

> he’s holding his machete and soaked with your companions’ blood, but you don’t seem to notice

> “…can you take me back to my friends?”

> well he most certainly cannot do that, not if he wants you to like him- though he’s not sure why that matters

> he’s still staring so you, exhausted, do the only thing you can think to

> “…do you want a flower? I picked a lot”

> he’s delighted and takes it before finally gesturing for you to follow him

> you can’t keep up, so eventually he picks you up

> and like that you’re nearly dozing off

> you don’t even notice he’s taking you back the way you came from

> and he’s glad- he wasn’t going to give you much of an option anyway

Bo Sinclair

> single travelers are so much easier to deal with

> so when Lester gives him the call that some college kid was stuck on the road, he’s eager for an easy catch

> you take your sweet ass time getting to the station- even though Lester drove you most of the way you let him drop you off just outside of town

> the smell of the truck was really getting to you, and you’re happy to let the dog lead you

> when he strides out you’re cooing over Jonesy and giving her a belly rub for her troubles

> he’s seen his fair share of attractive victims

> men, women, and folks that didn’t fit either category

> and he’s slept with most of them

> but you… there’s something extra special about you

> he decides right there he’s not taking care of you without at least getting a taste

> you’re not too impressed by his flirting- or at least you try and act like it

> but he catches your pink cheeks and quiet giggles as he takes you on a walk

> because of course he’s got the part down the road at his place

> by the time you get there he’s decided he’s marrying you - or maybe keeping you tied up, beggars can’t be choosers

> he’s impulsive but he’s never wanted to keep anyone before

> “hey sugar-“ god your face heats up just hearing him call you that “turns out I don’t have that part you need. It should be in by tomorrow, if you can stay the night?”

> you say yes before you can think critically- he’s good at getting folks wrapped around his finger like that

> “Good. Cause I’m just dying to show you some real southern hospitality…”

Danny Johnson

> he knows you long before you know him

> he’s a natural nosy guy- he’s a journalist after all

> and a serial killer, of course stalking is on his to do list

> originally you were going to be a victim

> you’d make a good story, a young person taken tragically early

> but you were too cute to die just yet- he had to at least meet you, just once

> if you were a dick no one would say anything nice for your article, right?

> so he just happens to bump into you outside your work one day

> literally bump

> when you spill coffee all over yourself he smoothly apologizes and offers to help clean you up

> “What a mess- I’m so sorry sweets. Let me take care of all this”

> and you fall for it, hook line and sinker

> he’s a handsome guy, he’s used to that but he’s smug anyways

> he gives you a spare shirt of his, though you still skip work

> he buys you another coffee and you sit in his car chatting

> you’re innocent enough to trust him like that- to get in a vehicle with a strange man?

> a strange man that’d been stalking you, no less

> it’s adorable- if he wasn’t so attached he could kill you right there

> but you’re just so damn sweet, and genuine

> and you’re so fascinated by these Ghost Face killings…

> maybe you’re worth keeping around for a bit

> just a bit

> that’s what he says to himself anyways

> when you meet him as Ghost Face, it’s after you’ve already got him all figured out

> and he’s lucky that you like a bad boy

Billy Lenz

> it’s a given that you first meet him over the phone

> you’re renting out a spare room from Mrs Mac, not in the sorority but a good enough tenant that she keeps you around

> you get along well with the girls and cook them meals, run study sessions and help clean

> it’s almost parental at times, even if you’re not far off in age

> Billy hates you at first, for taking such good care of ‘filthy piggy whores’

> he tells you just as much over the phone, but you’re not bothered

> you never seem to be bothered by his calls

> and that pisses him off more

> but you’re so so cute… it quickly becomes an obsession

> he’s in your walls constantly, watching you

> and the calls from the moaner start coming more and more frequently at times you’re home alone

> one day you just start giggling at him, tipsy “you know, you scare the girls,”

> “good i—“

> “but your voice is sooo nice. that’s why i pick up so much”

> you didn’t mean to confess that , and you hope he takes it as an awkward joke

> when he hangs up you think that maybe he did take it that way

> its not until late that night that you realize that he knew he was sincere

> before you can register that there’s anything wrong he’s covering your mouth and pinning you to your bed

> “hi there, baby doll,”

> his grin gets huge when your still horrified face goes bright red

> he always knew you were perfect

Bubba Sawyer

> you pick up Nubbins hitchhiking one day, and he’s just dumbfounded by you

> you’re nonplussed by his rambling and you don’t squirm at his yucky pictures. you don’t even kick him out, just drop him off at the gas station.

> you’re not really his type, but you’re fascinating

> he’s gotta get you home to meet his brothers

> so he pops your tires when you go inside- all four

> when you come back out Drayton is cursing him out and smacking him upside the head

> he makes him take you back to the house to rest up while he gets you tires

> of course he intends for Bubba to kill you

> but Nubbins doesn’t pass the message along, because he’s Nubbins

> “Here Bubba! I made us a new friend!”

> you shyly greet him, but he’s an oddly calming presence

> let’s be honest you’ve gotta be okay with a lot fast to like the Sawyers

> so maybe you’re just in denial about the material

> but you tell him you like his mask- and you do

> he obviously worked really hard on getting the makeup just right- and it compliments his suit

> he stares at you a long while before taking your hand and giving you a grand tour

> well, more a tour of his favorite spots

> the chicken coup, a patch of wildflowers out back, and his room full of trinkets collected from victims

> you’re strangely enamored by this big, quiet man

> and you don’t get the sense you’re allowed to leave

> especially when Drayton comes home and goes on and on about witnesses

> but you didn’t really even have an end goal in mind on your road trip anyways

> and now you’ve got Bubba to protect you

> maybe it’s not so bad, stuck with those weirdos

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

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Hi!! I'm sososo obsessed with Satyr König oml you're a genius (also I've binge read your whole yandere könig tag it's so perfect). Okay so sorry in advance for my English, but:

I can't stop thinking about a shy (and kinda pervert lmao) nymph reader who sees him, sees how big and strong he is and how well he secretly protects all her sisters (and how irresistible his big, thick cock is) and really falls in love and is wildly attracted to him, BUT she's very shy and the idea of telling him her feelings is too mortifying, so when he's out in the woods she sneaks in his den, tidies the place up, brings him some flowers as gifts (yeah im inverting the usual roles lol), snuggles in his bed of furs (maybe touches herself fantasizing about him-) and König, well, notices the changes in his house and is VERY perplexed, so one day he returns earlier than usual and sees this cute, soft and unaware nymph moaning and whimpering in his den, her face against his furs, all wet and willing and ready to mate while she quietly moans his name, eyes closed and face red- he'd go FERAL

The idea of desperately horny satyr König with a more than willing needy nymph makes my brain melt oml

(And btw, do you think you'll ever write Satyr König again, in general?)

Satyr!König goes absolutely feral, yes.

He noticed the lingering sweet scent at the mouth of his den already, a sugary, floral scent that he knows so very well. He knows it to his core, because his nose wants to follow that scent whenever he catches it.

Only nymphs smell this sweet, like flower meadows and moonlight, like spring water and honeycombs. The distinct scent of a kore is eerie, and only gets stronger when he walks further into his lair, but what’s more is that he recognizes who this particular scent belongs to… He has memorized her in his loneliness, and every time he catches a whiff of her in the air outside, he can’t help but grow hard.

He barely even notices the absence of his usual mess, that someone has washed all his cups and put his wine pots in order. His den has seen a lot of brooming, and there are fresh flowers placed on his oaken table, thoughtful bouquets hanged from the roots of his oak. But before he gets to inspect those odd little things further – he’s used to trampling flowers out in the wild, he never even thought of using them as decoration, but they do look kind of nice, don’t they? – he hears a soft whimper from the back of the den.

From where he sleeps, and isn’t it peculiar how he can now smell something else, now, too… Something irresistibly heady, something that demands action at once, making his cock stir and swell to the point where it’s almost painful. There’s another soft moan, calling to him like an enchanted flute: his whole den has changed from a dark dungeon into a soft, scented temple, echoing with the sounds of a maiden in heat.

He finds her spread over his thick, musky furs, furs that have seen countless lonely nights, and have to be changed every turn of the moon because they’re so grimy. She doesn’t seem to have any trouble with laying down in his filth, the rough furs that smell of seed and satyr sweat, of old musk and maybe a few tears. Satyrs cannot cry, they say, but that’s only because no one ever sees them do so. He’s spilled more than his fill of salt on that makeshift bed, and not all of it was ropes of hot seed…

“P–please…”

She sees him, sees how surprised he is catching her here, in the place all nymphs always try to evade. She sees how hard he is while watching her bare and panting there, all over his furs, lips swollen from lust. Both up and down, her lips are wet and quivering; she’s completely ready to be taken, and only the tiniest sliver of respect prevents him from fucking her senseless right here and right now.

“Please, I beg of you…”

But when she begs for it like that…?

He doesn’t hesitate a moment longer. He simply cannot.

And why waste time on thinking how she got here (or more importantly, why she got here?) Why mull on the hot question of why isn’t the loveliest creature on earth trying to get away from him?

“No need to beg,” he grunts as he lays himself upon her, cock hot and already leaking as it finds her entrance.

The smell of ambrosia envelops him as he glides inside, the whimper from his nymph a song of paradise. She smiles softly at such immediate lust, or is it the sun that comes out of the clouds, somehow reaching under the branches of this oak?

She welcomes him with open arms, a tear falling down her temple and into her hair as he tries to be gentle with her. But it’s not really his size or his lust that makes her cry. Her hands trail up and down his sides, they try to desperately wrap around his wide torso. She looks into his eyes while he starts to rut her, amazed to have been granted such a blessing at all.

“I’m in love with you,” she sighs into the air between them, her eyes glimmering with worship in the dim, earthy dusk of his den.

He messes up with his thrusts, breathing out his shock while hovering over her. She’s so delicate and frail, and so desperate for a nymph who’s supposed to be frolicking in the open fields… She should be climbing in the tall trees and giggling at centaurs from there, she should be admiring the full moon and the stars, she should be playing in the freshwater with her sisters.

He always thought this one feared him the most, slinking into the shadows beneath the trees whenever she saw him. Casting her eyes down as if she didn’t want him to notice her at all, never mocking or teasing him like the others did. That’s why he left her alone: because he didn’t want to break her. She was far too pure for someone like him.

But now she’s here, with flowers and a hot, wet body, trying to grab him so hopelessly in her fragile embrace…

“You can’t say things like that, little one,” he warns, feeling something akin to fear for the first time in his life.

“Why not…? It’s true,” she chimes there beneath him, a few more tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.

His chest is burning, but the only sound that comes out of him is a low growl. A warning and a plea.

“You shouldn’t tease an old faun.”

“And you shouldn’t stop what you only just started...”

He blinks at her answer, at her soft smile.

Then, he shoots down to kiss her neck.

She moans from love when he opens his mouth, careful not to puncture her delicate flesh with his teeth: he only devours his nymph with soft hunger, licking and sucking her soft skin. Her giggles and sighs drive him to the sweetest madness as he starts to make love to her under the earth.

His home has never heard such cries of joy, felt or seen such displays of devotion… He returns her confessions thousandfold, in every way he can. These silly little creatures always fear a satyr’s love is only about lust, and therefore escape such hollow adoration, but he’s not here to just ease the pain in his sacks.

He’s now forever bound to her, whether she knows it or not…

#satyr!könig #nymph!reader #tw: lovemaking #könig x reader #purple prose

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katyahina · 8 months ago

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So, this is what I understood about Midra Mansion and Frenzied Flame business (in chronological order)

It is more like a reference so I don't forget, just piecing the story together since I am sure I found all helpful items yet! Add please if there is something else!

1) So, it started with how for one reason or another, Midra and people in this place attracted paranoia (?) of the hornsent and were done dirty by inquisitors! Not specified whether they actually done something bad or not!

The entrance in this location is guarded by Elder Inquisitor Jori, that also summons ungodly amount of fellow clerics what in the actual Deacons of the Deep was that fdhfdhs

^ This item is dropped by an NPC Maddening Hand, and this IS my reason to think that rather than everyone here being punished for potentially messing with Frenzied Flame, they were accused and hunted for something else and affiliation with FF came because of that resentment!

^ This dialogue perplexed me at first, as I initially thought it related to inquisitors coming in the Manse after the FF events, but by now I concluded it more likely related to the era where they were hunted as heretics for no particular reason! Because people of the Manse should have known what in another case:

2) The contact with Frienzied Flame happened and effected the people and the place in general. Like I said before, Frenzied Flame started to manifest upon yearning of Midra/his people for revenge. He might have even been directly contacted by the Three Fingers in a similar manner as how Marika was contacted by the Two Fingers for her situation, as suggested by an item found in this map:

Besides, the whole Manse was destroyed but especially the books, and we will get to it later but evidently it was done to hide the knowledge about Frenzied Flame accumulated:

3) A child of Midra and Nanaya likely was lost to a failed attempt of becoming Lord of Frenzied Flame! Nanaya is depicted holding her hand on her belly on the portrait, perhaps being pregnant, and the torch you pick from her corpse is said to be gently 'cradled' by her! I need to see Japanese script to confirm or deny how accurate the word 'cradling' is here since it does have connotation with caring for the baby, so put a pin on it! However, feeling of affection from her alone might make this nitpick less relevant.

These 'evidences' that it was their child do not look very strong, I admit this much, as well as calling it 'distant' land is odd. I think it still works; for example, distant from the standpoint of the world map in general since it is very well hidden!

^ We pick this item from the corpse of Nanaya herself. Her eyes are obscured on the portrait and yet that looks to be an artistic decision. Her corpse, on the other hand, has eyes covered with bandages! We can assume that she went blind from spending too much time holding onto this "torch", as well as that prolonged exposure to FF was what killed her in the end. Why cling onto this spinal column so much, if not because it belonged to someone dear for her?

I suppose it is up to interpretation whether Nanaya approved of the idea of the Lord of the Frenzied Flame as their kid and only lost courage when the plan failed and availed them nothing, or she didn't know Midra would let their son of all people to go through such a risk and father and son acted behind her back (maybe not they alone), or she straight up disapproved of Frenzied Flame moods and called inquisitors for """help""" herself to at the very least isolate the madness! So, speaking of:

4) Inquisitors learn about Frenzied Flame business here, those who were helping with the Frenzied Flame meddling were executed, Nanaya is spared for either reason.

I didn't understand it instantly, but yes, the implication of the neat row of beheaded guys right at the entrance with their wrists tied is that they were executed:

The glowing 'stick' in their necks does give me an impression of their barbs, however they do not stick out at the sides?

So, the Hornsent inquisitors did this to him, but as we learn from Midra no longer being able to take it and pulling the barb out of himself this is not a fact that they've done it specifically to seal the Frenzied Flame! Because why would they leave him like this despite the risk that he could choose to pull the barb out one day? They might not have known that Midra caught Frenzied Flame to this extent and just believed in giving specific form of punishment to the leader of the dangerous people! ...right?

^ Wrong! @val-of-the-north shared this icon for an item that exists in the game files but was not implemented in the end, on which Midra's had both has the same eye as Tarnished has after being grasped by the Three Fingers and has obvious trace of their grab not unlike Vyke's armour! This gives me a feeling that the Inquisitors had enough information to conclude something wasn't right. So, maybe they decied that they killed him and were not aware that FF would not let him die now?

OR MAYBE Nanaya is the key here! If she was fully affiliated with Midra and servants on FF plot, why she never got executed? She might have successfully lied to them about not having been aware to still seize some control, or she genuinely disapproved of all this and wanted it to stop. Thus, in case if the inquisitors knew of Midra's situation, maybe they also trusted her to control him from breaking free.

^ This suggests that Nanaya knew of what danger he held within prior the inquisitors did their thing! Since he was also willingly holding onto her demand for such a long time, maybe he himself realised the ramifications by then, especially if their son was lost like this. This gives me an impression that they both agreed it all went too far and decided to call for "help", whether Nanaya was a part of the plan all along too or simply was able to collect herself when Midra confessed her everything, dragging their son into it included, and understood they had bigger problem to worry about now!

^ This makes me feel like "weakness" it refers to was actually his reluctance and fear upon realising what he messed with, rather than actual failure! I don't know about you guys, but I found him a pretty functional Lord of Frenzied Flame during the battle 🤔 But if he contracted the 'Lord', how his head was still in place when inquisitors arrived for his ass? So likely he was able to keep it in before, to "endure" like Nanaya said earlier, when NOT "failing" would entail "understanding" and embracing the motivations and the meaning of FF. (Melina looks with a massive judgement)

However, pulling out that barb also entailed succumbing to the Frenzied Flame, which now made him no longer "fail" at it.

5) Inquisitors remain to patrol the perma-damaged land getting afflicted with FF themselves so no curious idiots wander here, Nanaya and other spared (?) people die from old age.

(sorry for phone picture, I forgot to copy this one to USB fhdhdsf) Even if Lord of Frenzied Flame was prevented, the impact of the contact with the Three Fingers (?) was permanent now. There was no way to destroy it (how do you destroy THE desctruction?), only keep it secluded.

^ I mentioned how Nanaya oddly was spared, but what about this person? Either not she alone and this guy might have died from old age or something, OR these are the words from the time before inquisitors arrived here. Because, again, we have evidence that Midra and Nanaya knew he contracted Frenzied Flame even before that, from the description of his remembrance!

^ This, all things considered, refers to the time the Hornsent arrived here to execute, punish and set up the patrol, as they discovered what happened!

__________________

So, yeah.. It is a really messed up story. I have enough pointers towards how the family, ironically, had to accept "help" from THE very folks who harassed them to the point of events that attracted the Frenzied Flame to begin with! Even if they are probably/likely descendants or a branch-off from the hornsent that originally were hunting them as heretics. Like realising that no amount of torture and mistreatment of their people must doom the whole world to burn, yet it would happen if Frenzied Flame broke loose from here.

#elden ring #elden ring dlc #sote spoilers #midra lord of frenzied flame #nanaya #elden ring theory #elden ring observation #elden ring headcanons #elden ring reference #use later #screenshots #not art #text post

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emeritusemeritus · 9 months ago

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Can you write a Fred x reader where reader is a slytherin student and older than Fred so they never really encounter eachother since they not in the same year level. Until one day they got jinxed/ got into some sort of incidents/ prank (whatever you could think of!) where they are tied together until the spell expires itself. So during the time they get to know eachother and get attracted by eachother flirtatious and witty personalities. But when the spell expires both of them feel like there’s no reason to hang out with eachother anymore so none of them make a move until Fred gets jealous over someone asking reader to Yule ball and then they both confess and happy ending?? Thank you so much!!

Hi love! I’m sorry this took so long, but I had so much fun writing this, hope it’s okay! 🖤

Warnings: pranks, minor swearing, banter, finger jokes, fluff and humour. Sorry Miles Bletchley.

Just a reminder to anyone reading that my requests are currently closed, these are ones that I received a while back that I haven’t had time to write until now.

Word count: 3.1k

Ties that bind.

“Neville, NO!”

It's the last thing you hear before you're unceremoniously dragged through the air completely weightless until you crash into a rather solid frame, disorientated and wholeheartedly perplexed. To make matters much, much worse, when you try to pull yourself away, you realise quickly that you can't move even a foot away from the person you'd inadvertently barrelled into.

"Blimey," you hear someone say from behind you but you can hardly twist enough to look for yourself who it is. You begin to struggle against the invisible confines, beginning to panic about the lack of freedom as a crowd begins to gather around you.

"Bloody Neville," the person directly in front of you curses and for the first time you finally look up, taking in the person you were seemingly attached to. One of the Weasley twins.

"I told you not to touch it!" The other, near identical boy says, reaching to grab something from Neville Longbotton's hands as he stands frozen, shocked at what he'd apparently conjured.

"George undo it now," the boy in front of you says rather harshly, announcing himself to be Fred Weasley. You watch as George fumbles with whatever Neville had previously occupied, a trick wand of sorts that looked flimsy and poorly made. You wait with baited breath as George attempts no less than four times to reverse the spell but the increasingly frustrated and bewildered look upon his face only increases with each attempt, making your hopes of freedom dwindle to almost nothing.

"Longbottom what the bloody hell did you do? What is that thing?" You say for the first time, an annoyed expression evident across your face. For the first time, Fred looks down at you from his ridiculous height and stares for a moment, ginger lashes blinking as he looks upon your face. You avert your eyes at the rather intimate distance between your and the Weasley twin and instead chose to focus your icy glare upon Neville who's eyes visibly widen under your stare before he scuttles off.

"It's a trick wand," you hear from directly above you, Fred's unexpectedly soft voice explaining what the malfunctioning device his twin is wildly throwing around is. "It was loaded with a leg binding jinx but apparently we underestimated Neville's lack of ability with magic."

"It's just his bad wand," you reply absently, almost coming to his defensive but quickly pausing when you see Fred suddenly look at you in confusion as your uncharacteristic leniency of the Gryffindor student.

"How long does it take to wear off?" You ask in a mild huff, realising that nothing George was doing would be able to undo the jinx.

"Um well that's the thing," he says hesitantly, causing you to whip your head round to face him as soon as you heard his nervous tone. "It should expire in about 6 or 7 hours."

"7 hours?!" You ask, eyes wide. "But I have potions in-."

"Yeah that's not happening," George says, moving to stand beside you both. It appears the group surrounding you had dispersed, leaving you alone with only both twins in the corridor between the Great hall and the staircases. "Unless you drag him with you."

"I'm going nowhere near potions or Severus grease face."

"So what do we do now?"

Five hours you'd been tethered to Fred Weasley by an invisible bind that still showed no sign of relenting. You'd found weak points of the bind and had managed to untangle yourselves just far enough that you were able to sit directly in front of each other, legs touching and somewhat entwined but at least you weren't stuck on top of eachother like before. You'd found sanctuary in the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor, escaping from teachers and students alike until the jinx wore off. You'd been pleasantly surprised when he pulled out a head boy pin from his trouser pocket once you were out of sight of the statue of Boris the Bewildered and had recited the password perfectly to allow you access to the usually restricted area.

"My brother Percy hasn't noticed it's missing yet," he smirked as you looked at him in question, watching him try to slip the badge back into his trouser pocket with a little difficulty thanks to the close quarters between the two of you.

The first hour had been awkward to say the least, with neither of you saying much and desperate to get away. It was embarrassing, humiliating and more than anything you just wanted to run back to your common room but after another hour of torturous silence, he began talking.

The third hour passed quickly and you'd found that he was actually really funny and sincere, much calmer than you'd ever expected him to be. You didn't know him, not really but you'd seen him on the quidditch pitch and heard all about the infamous Weasley twins and their pranks which was intimidating to say the least. You'd figured he couldn't do much more to you than what you were already experiencing and he'd not made any attempt to trick you in the few hours you'd spent together.

The fourth and fifth hour had you both hysterically laughing as you recited your best impressions of the hogwarts teachers, his awful madeye moody impression clearly taking the prize for worst impression ever to be made. You'd gotten surprisingly comfortable on the tile floor, your head resting in his lap though your knees were bent to allow room for the invisible shackles. The conversation had turned to a heart to heart after a few hours of laughter and you found that he was opening up rather easily to you, with lingering looks and shared glances you hoped you hadn't imagined.

“Ask me something personal,” he says with a fleeting smile, looking up from his place on your lap. You’d switched places nearly half an hour ago, with his head now resting against your legs, soft, long fingers hair fanning out across your thighs.

You pause for a moment, thinking of what to ask. “What's your mum like?”

He huffs out a breath of laughter, like an inside joke replaying in his head and you watch as a smirk tugs at the side of his lips.

“My mum,” he begins to say with a smile on his full lips, hesitating for only a minute. “She's a fierce lady, great cook, loving… Sometimes a little pushy.”

“There's seven of you!” You jump to defend her, having learnt all about his siblings from the previous hours of conversation. “Two of them being you and George, I might add, maybe she has to be to keep you in line,” you laugh.

“You may have a point there,” he smirks up at you, staring right into your eyes until you feel yourself get lost in his hazel orbs.

“What about you?”

“Hm?” You ask, your lashes fluttering as you try to blink out of your little daydream whilst being absorbed in looking for the golden flecks in his eyes, praying to Salazar himself that he hadn’t noticed.

“Your mum,” he says, completely oblivious to your gaze.

“Oh,” you frown, feeling a sudden weight upon your shoulders at the very mention of your mother, all lightness and whimsy of the situation gone. “She's well respected… proud Slytherin, beautiful.”

“Guess she passed something on to her daughter then,” Fred smirks, quirking his eyebrow at you and you laugh, nudging him gently with your knee. “Smooth Weasley,” you joke, watching as he settles back down on your leg, one bulging arm coming to rest under his shaggy red hair, his school shirt rolled up to display his veiny, bulging forearm….

“Are all your family redheads?” You ask, prying your gaze away from the slightly freckled patch of skin that seemed to be drawing your attention like gold to a niffler.

“Yeah, have to squint looking at all family photos because it's like looking into straight fire,” he jokes and you can’t help but laugh along, laughing more when you see his head bobbing slightly with your movement. His hair looks unbelievably soft and smooth, like it was perfectly styled to look natural, the pure gold and copper strands standing out against the rest in the faint light.

"So you're Ginger-bred," you add, laughing at your own terrible joke. A burst of laughter spills from him, louder than you’d ever heard and you watch him in slight amazement as he shifts, now sitting up and facing you once again, the place in your lap where his head had been resting now feeling a little empty and cold.

“That was a good one actually, might have to tell George that one.”

“Your doppel-ginger?” Another burst of magical laughter echoes around the room and you watch with a proud smile on your face knowing it was you that was making him laugh like this.

“That one is definitely being passed on, never heard that before”.

“Are all your family Gryffindors?” You ask, turning your head to the side slightly, breaking the momentarily comfortable silence.

“Yeah, though I'd look good in green don't you think?” He winks, gesturing to your Slytherin robes.

“I don't know,” you pause, teasing as you look at him, watching carefully as he follows your eyes. “I guess it's lucky for you that you're so tall, wearing green with your hair... people might think you're a leprechaun.”

“Har-har,” he laughs sarcastically, rolling his eyes in a teasing way but from the smile on his face, he’s far from hurt by your banter.

“So, Yule ball’s coming up,” he begins to say but he’s cut off when you suddenly feel a weight taken off of your limbs, the resistance you’d gotten used to quickly wearing off. You gingerly try to prey your leg further from the point you’d both worked out was the farthest you could go, and to your amazement, you can stretch as far as your limbs can go.

You stand, overwhelmed with relief that the jinx had worn off, wasting no time before stretching and throwing your arms about like a wild man.

Fred laughs and joins in with your excited spin, both of you looking like pure idiots in the middle of the prefects bathroom, dancing around with no music and ecstatic smiles on your faces.

You finally stop, the laughter slowly fading as you feel him pull you in for a hug, his arms stretching around your shoulder with relative ease.

“Thank you for being my date today,” he says cheekily with a full bow as he reaches out for your hand, acting formally.

“It was my pleasure sir,” you play along, thrusting your hand into his as he playfully reaches down to kiss the back of your hand.

“Reckon your potions class is long since finished,” he says, gathering the backpack he’d thrown down in the corner with your book bag. From the lack of light outside, it’s obvious that it’s well past school hours, the entire afternoon spent hiding away with Fred.

You snort, “what a shame.”

“You know, for a Slytherin you’re alright,” he teases.

“Shut up gingerbread, which one are you again?”

He reaches out for you but you manage to scamper as he holds open the door for you both to walk through, hoping you can make it out without anyone seeing you.

You make it right up the corridor towards the staircases before it becomes painfully obvious that you’re parting ways, both of your common rooms in opposite directions.

You turn, just out of sight of the staircases and wait with baited breath for him to hopefully make a move, hoping that you hadn’t read it wrong.

There’s a few moments when both of you stare at each other, neither knowing what to do or say and you watch as his eyes travel across your face, to your lips and then away, the tension breaking.

“Well, bye then,” he says, though there’s a hint of emotion in his voice that sounds almost like sadness or hesitation.

“Oh, bye Fred,” you try your hardest to appear neutral but it’s too hard, you can’t help but hear the disappointment slipping through your tone. He turns away and you take the hint, also turning in the opposite direction as you enter the hall of staircases, tracking them to get where you need to go. You feel eyes upon you but when you turn, you see that he’s walking upwards on one of the staircases, not looking at you. You hang on for as long as you can, trying to spot him each time you join a new moving staircase, watching the red hair eventually fade out of view until you reach the opening to the dungeons.

Two weeks pass and unsurprisingly you hear nothing from Fred, though you seem to be acutely more aware of his presence around school. You hear his voice, hear his laughter and even the passing rumours seem to reach you much more than before, retellings of him and George’s latest prank. You can’t help but search for his red hair in the sea of Gryffindor’s in the great Hall and try to look out for him between classes like a lost puppy. It was amazing really, you’d gone from hardly knowing him, and certainly not knowing him from his twin to being able to completely distinguish him and George apart even with a brief glance.

You told no one of this, naturally, glad that Neville’s misdemeanour hadn’t reached the whole school and that you’d come away largely unscathed, in terms of your reputation. Neville had avoided you at all costs, bumping into you once with panic in his eyes and lasting no more than two seconds before retreating sharpish.

You were gutted, thinking that you’d made an actual connection with him but apparently not, it was just situational. So you did the only thing you could do and return to your life before you’d encountered Fred Weasley, trying to put away any memories or feelings you felt, though you couldn’t deny your life felt that little less exciting now you knew what it was like to spend time with him.

“Y/n?” You turn towards the sound of your name being called, all hope leaving your body quickly when you realise it isn’t him, that it’s Miles Bletchley, a fellow Slytherin that was in the year below you.

“Hi gorgeous,” he says with a smile but you don’t reciprocate, instead fixing him with a slight face of disgust, lips pursing at the nickname.

“Bletchley,” you greet him, making his surname sound as vomitious as possible, which wasn’t a hard task. He was far from the worst Slytherins, keeper on the Quidditch team and an overall nice enough guy but his body language was putting you off completely. Cocky, running his hand through his hair, throwing his weight about.

“So I was wondering if you had a date to the Yule Ball? Gorgeous girl like you has already been claimed but doesn’t hurt to ask right?” He winks.

“Claimed?” You repeat in disgust at his turn of phrase. Your apparently disgust and overall lack of a reply doesn’t seem to phase him in the slightly as he shrugs, a stupid smirk tugging at the side of his thin, chapped lips.

“Figured I’d shoot my shot,” he chuckles, as if he’d made a witty comment that he was so proud of.

“Figure you should stick to goalkeeping, if that’s the shot you’re taking, your aim’s well off,” you say with a roll of your eyes as you turn, walking away from him in a proud sweep, only to tumble into the front of someone seconds after.

Fred.

You open your mouth to greet him but simply pull back slightly, feeling the loss of his large hands around the top of your arms where he’d previously held you. It’s evident he’d seen all of your interaction with Miles, and that he wasn’t too pleased about it.

His gaze is hard and predatory as he glares at Bletchley, giving such a harsh look that it makes you freeze, until he looks at you and his eyes fall soft again. Before you can mutter an apology and walk away, he does something that surprises you, he smiles and speaks.

“So Yule Ball, no keepers, but how about a beater?” He asks with a smirk, but instead of Bletchley’s Lockhart-esque smarmy routine, this one is genuine. He flicks his eyes towards Bletchley’s frame, dragging on your rejection from the Slytherin Keeper. “Gryffindor though of course.” He flashes you a wide smile, his eyes shining as he winks at you and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face involuntarily.

“Oh, George needs a date?” You tease, watching from under your lashes at the myriad of expressions that cross his face in under three seconds. At first he’s shocked, then disheartened, then humoured by your little teasing.

“Funny girl,” he shoots back, the mischievous glint in his eyes turning positively devilish.

“What do you say? May I take the wittiest, prettiest girl in all of Hogwarts to the Ball?” He bows down just as he had that day in the bathroom and gestures for your hand once more.

“You may,” you reply, beaming with joy as you place your hand in his much larger one once again. To your surprise, instead of bending down to kiss the back of your hand as he had before, he gently tugs on your arm and you fall weightlessly forward right back into his chest.

In a move that you’ll remember in vivid detail for all of your life, he leans down, long hair sweeping back as he presses those deliciously full lips onto yours, your hands slipping around his very high shoulders to support yourself. The kiss is quick and chaste but you could cry with sheer happiness, his soft lips on your own igniting a wild spark around you.

When you actually hear a firework around you, you pull away in utter confusion, thinking you’d imagined the signature whinny of a flying firework.

“Couldn’t resist,” you hear from the side and twist around, still wrapped around Fred as you look at George who stands with a smug look on his face at the fireworks he’d released. “Least now he’ll stop talking about you all the time.”

“George,” Fred warns.

“Do you think she’ll go the yule ball with me? Wonder if she’ll wear green, should I wear green? She’s so pretty, soooo funny, I wonder what she’s doing now…”

George’s high pitched, mocking voice gets rapidly quieter with each step as he walks away, fading into the background once again and as you turn to look back at Fred, the colour on his cheeks is a rather impressive bright pink blush.

“Wish I had a camera with me,” you say, making his brow knit together into a quizzical frown as he silently questions your words.

“That’s just the shade of pink I wanted my dress to be.”

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #asks and requests #requests #request closed #anon answered

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years ago

Note

Hello there, may I request how Yandere Malleus, Idia, Leona, Jamil, Silver, and Vil would react to a darling who’s personality and mannerisms are like Wall-E?

Wall-E Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Your actions speak loudest because you don’t say anything other than your name. You’re just as cute as ever and you have a thing for trash so being Crowley’s unpaid lackey is a perfect job for you. They might suspect that you may not be entirely human…you shouldn’t be as excited about the garden as you are and how did you get all the trash to be in a compact cube…? Nonetheless, you’ve captured their hearts or at the very least their trash:

Malleus Draconia

“You’re collection is astounding…these trinkets are quite curious. Would you like to see my own?”

He relates to your sentiment of maintaining a horde

But it seems you like more than just shiny things

And he bristles when you’re accepting menial things from others

Especially when you’re avidly refusing his own contributions

“What? What’s the matter? This jewel seems worthy enough to join it. What? No? Why not?”

He’s perplexed by your little busybody nitpicking

Only satisfied when he concludes that you are what he wants in his own horde

“I’ve made an astounding revelation! You are what I’ve been missing in my own collection. Do not fret I will willingly be inducted in your own as well.”

Idia Shroud

“Ewww touching grass?! Pft try the eternal joy of gacha games.”

He begrudgingly idolizes you

For the earth loving trash conscious you

He plans to corrupt you

Or at the very least upgrade you to enjoy the finer things in life

“What’s better than trash collecting? Hehehe try this~! No! No! That’s not trash!”

It seems he has a lot to teach you

But he can’t let those normies get a hold of you before him

“Whoa whoa, social butterflies you already get to have everyone’s attention just let me have them this once.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Only an herbivore like you would want this. Here. Take it or I’m throwing it away.”

He doesn’t know what you find so attractive about trash

Throwing it away or keeping the pieces you like

But he can’t help but love the way you’re eye sparkle when you get what you want

Suddenly he’s looking at little things a lot longer

Should anyone stop you or him he’s not leaving them unharmed

“Don’t bother their stuff…Otherwise, I’m hunting you.”

Jamil Viper

“Y-you are so strange…but you’re so cute.”

He’s enamored with your simple trashy tastes

But he can’t complain because it's you

He does have to quickly stop you when he casually calls things trash

He just wished your cubing policy works the same way with annoying nuisances

It’s alright

He’ll do it himself

“Now you, tell me where you put that lighter…or it’ll be the last thing you throw away.”

Silver

“Here (Y/n), I brought you something for your collection. Does it fit?”

He’s oddly amazing at finding what’s perfect for your collection

He could sit and watch you all-day

Continuing to feed your collection

He honestly debates spilling trash so that you can make more trash-cubes

He likes it when you do that

Gets a little too defensive when someone wants to help you pick up trash

Pulling his coat back, hand on the hilt of his dagger

“I ask that you give (Y/n) some space…I know its selfish but they look cute doing this.”

Vil Schoenheit

“Eugh!? I’d rather you keep your trash+ collectibles out of your fashion set.”

He really hates that his darling dumpster dives

That's how he sees it

You need correcting and he’d be the one to do it

Or at the very least let you keep the beautiful collectibles

“Come darling, I will not let you tarnish your own beauty for such a hobby.”

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urween · 26 days ago

Text

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader | english version

summary: After a long battle and especially hard research, the Avengers finally found the Winter Soldier. To keep everyone safe, they keep him locked in their HQ. In semi-freedom but especially in a trance, Bucky Barnes attracts the attention of the young boy in charge of taking care of him during his stay here.

notes: I prefer to specify it, the temporality is not exactly respected. Let's say that all this takes place just after Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

⚠︎ warnings: mentions of heavy trauma related to the war and the Hydra projects, a form of depressed!Bucky, violence, weapons, incomprehension of transidentity without transphobia, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

English isn't my first language, sorry for the mistakes <3

- 2nd person description

- 5 371 words

french version here

You were the little protégé of the group, he had quickly noticed. Even if Natasha didn't have superpowers or a robotic suit either, she was part of the team. She and Clint were kind of the superhumans of the group, with superhuman abilities but nothing that surpassed Thor's lightning or Hulk's muscles. Then, there was you, a fairly normal little human with no particular specificities. High intelligence, extreme kindness and an adorable smile. But no mastery of martial arts. You knew the basics of fighting, Nat had taught you the main thing. You had ended up understanding Bruce's extravagant chemical formulas, and you understood the most important things Tony said in his intense nerd phases. But once again, you were nothing special, and that made Bucky wonder. Why was a basic human here? What were you doing in the middle of the Avengers? Even though he had missed a few decisive years from a social point of view, he didn't understand.

As he stared from his cell, he saw scenes he didn't know how to interpret. You assisting Tony Stark and Jarvis, you laughing with Bruce Banner, you helping Natasha Romanoff train, you carrying Steve Rogers' shield to him, you sorting Clint Barton's arrows, you redoing Thor's braids.

What were you doing there?

You had cheerfully introduced yourself to him. With a friendly smile on your lips, you had stated your name, first name and pronouns – he hadn't really understood this last point –. You had surely been informed of his situation. Don't be offended, he'll need a little time, someone must have whispered to you. He hadn't answered you, and you hadn't seemed offended. You had then left, and he had remained perplexed. If you already knew everything about him, why come and introduce yourself? You must have read his files, you must have all read his files. Steve had to slip away to get some air, Natasha inspected everything in detail, Bruce muttered "it’s awful". You had to read his files. See his life laid out on a large table, foreign hands going over the medical reports. You had to read with anguish the endless list of victims he had killed during his missions, observe the modifications that had been made to him, the treatments inflicted, the pains endured. You had seen all that. Then, why come see him?

"Let's just say I don't really like you hanging around this guy," Tony's voice had been saying for several minutes, "Jarvis copy this plan for me and make a 3D reconstruction with train stations, airports and all the stuff."

The holograms moved before your eyes, but you hadn't paid attention to them. Back then, the first time you saw this virtual world being modeled in Tony's office, you were like a kid. Stars in your eyes, you asked a thousand questions per second, making the creator of this program smile. But now you knew yourself how most of the "Jarvis" system worked, and you weren't so impressed anymore, or at least you weren't with every move Stark made.

"I don't see what's bothering you," you replied, innocently swinging your legs in the air.

Tony turned around with his ever-so-dramatic gestures, making a vague movement with his hand he tried to make you understand things without having to speak. Unfortunately for him telekinesis was not part of your abilities.

"Okay," he admitted to himself, defeated, "to start with his sophisticated robotic arm that could crush you before you could scream," he mimed disinterestedly, “did you look at him? Unstable and completely high."

A non-hidden smile drew a curve across your lips.

"We're still talking about Bucky Barnes?” you had fun, “because I rather have the impression that you're looking at yourself in a mirror"

You glanced at Jarvis, who was finishing your friend's request. Then, your attention went back to the billionaire who was visibly desperate to have this discussion with you – you were getting used to it, a demonstration of love coming from Tony –.

"I prefer to cut you off right now," your voice continued, "I forbid you to give me the traditional excuses like he's dangerous or armed or he's a murderer”. You got down from the table where you were sitting and gestured around the room, “look around Tony, only weapons or future weapons,” you got closer to him and pointed at his forehead, “you have the greatest weapon that humanity has ever known in this skull. Natasha and Clint are professional killers, Steve is a traumatized soldier who makes a denial, Thor is an alien with supernatural powers and Bruce is a scientist haunted by a destructive alter-ego”. You pause to admire the still indecipherable facial expression of the man in front of you, “you are all murderers and dangers to Mankind, the only difference between you and Barnes is that you chose to devote your talents to a cause, and he had no choice".

Tony remained motionless for a few long seconds, a whirlwind surely vibrating his neurons. Then, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly bowed his head in defeat.

"You're right," he declared, "I’ve no more arguments and yours are solid”, he turned and went back to Jarvis, “well done kid"

A year ago you would have been perplexed by this reaction, but time had taught you that you had to take Tony Stark with a grain of salt and observe him as you would with a foreign mushroom. All you could remember from this interaction was that you were tired, that you had won against the great megalomaniac Iron Man and above all that you had to talk to Barnes again.

No one had really agreed with Steve on the idea of bringing a Hydra mercenary back to Avengers HQ. It's the equivalent of serving him our secrets on a silver platter, Clint had rightly said. You had been surprised to see Nat defend Barnes, alongside you and Steve – of course –. There was Bruce who couldn't deliver a distinct judgment, then Tony and Clint who were against. Thor having left, you didn't know where in space, the votes had therefore been closed with a majority of for.

You had helped Captain set up a room that was at least habitable in a protective cell, a bit like the one that had sheltered Loki. While the tall blond carried the fold-out bed, you had taken care of a bag of clothes – approximately Barnes' size – and another with water and sweets, this idea had come from you. You found it unfair to call this man a simple murderer, he had been manipulated and controlled. As you put the cereal bars on a small iron table, you tried not to think about the chaos that must be going on in the Winter Soldier's head at the same time. He must have been just as traumatized as his victims, maybe even more so. And finding himself in such a particular environment overnight must have been disturbing. So a chocolate bar and a soda couldn't hurt him.

Thank you, Steve had murmured, for understanding. You had given him a touching smile, holding back the urge to ask him how he felt. He had just found his best friend, who was supposed to have disappeared for several decades, and on top of that, this friend had suffered inhumane treatment for most of his life now. It was obvious that he didn't feel well, that he was helpless in the face of this situation. Bruce had advised you to give him time, and that if he needed it, he would end up talking to one of you. You had listened to his advice, and focused more on Barnes instead.

You had introduced yourself first, starting with a simple acquaintance. You had then made sure to take care of his needs, slipping in a new bottle of fresh water when the previous one was empty, opening his prison only when night fell so that he could go shower without running into a contemptuous Tony or a depressed Steve.

On this subject, rules had been established to guarantee everyone's safety. If Bucky left his cell it was always in the company of one of you – you were the only ones with the passes –, if he asked for something – which he never did – the object had to pass through several control portals before being given to him, and finally no matter where he went, toilets or showers, someone had to watch over him within the limits of privacy. Bruce had offered to take turns, but judging by the faces of the others you had volunteered to ensure most of his outings. Natasha was supposed to replace you when you weren't available, then Tony if neither of you were present. This way you had avoided conflicts but also and above all Steve wouldn't have to go there.

You didn't know him, Bucky, having only seen the videos in his file, and yet every time you went to visit him your stomach knotted. There was no question of fear, since his robotic arm had been censored to the maximum thanks to a Stark gadget, leaving him only the freedom to use it as a normal limb, without super-strength or integrated weapons. He remains a super soldier, Bruce had warned, his physical faculties are superior to Nat's and he has a serum similar to Steve's in his veins. But you weren't afraid. Unfortunately a goat would have made you shiver more than Barnes when you went to see him. He was always on pause. Never spoke, barely moving his gaze from the ground. You had been reassured to see that he ate the bare minimum, and he had even tasted a chocolate bar one day. But aside from these details, it was as if you were seeing the same robot in the same position, day after day. Your stomach knotted for these reasons, because when you brought him clean sheets he had nothing of the man you had seen on video. The rage that haunted his eyes had disappeared, there was only a nameless emptiness left, and you had never seen anything so sad. You didn't feel like you had a hundred-year-old Hydra soldier in front of you, but a broken orphan.

You spent a lot of time rereading his file, his reports, his exams. You tried to understand him through these papers. Steve was lost, he no longer saw Buck in those eyes, and you were trying to understand what he had become, Buck. According to his personal file, he had been found at the age of twenty-six before undergoing Hydra’s experiments. A photo of him, in 1943, was stuck to the paper. A shy smile on his lips, his infantry hat slightly tilted on his head and his uniform without a crease sitting proudly on his chest. A tear had seriously rolled down your cheek, ending its path in a Russian handwriting: Зимний Солдат, in other words Winter Soldier. Bruce had carried out a complete tradition of all the documents, later corrected by Natasha. Maybe rereading these texts was not good for you, but you needed it. You were the only one here who was interested in Barnes. Steve felt so guilty that he was in a kind of denial, Nat was only coldly studying the soldier’s file and let’s not even talk about the others. Bucky needed time, understanding and gentleness to at least not make his after-effects worse. You most certainly had to make mistakes, not being a psychologist by profession, but you were already doing better than your comrades and than Hydra.

"Nice evening, huh?" Your voice echoed in a leaden silence.

The sun had set for over three hours, most of the Avengers were in their rooms or gone outside, which meant that it was the perfect time for Barnes to take a shower. You had gathered your strength and went to the soldier's cell. When you had passed by, about two hours ago, he had not wanted to eat his meal so you had taken it back and heated it up again for later. With the hot dish in one hand, you carefully closed the armored glass door behind you. As you expected, Barnes had hardly moved since your last visit. Still sitting cross-legged in his bed, he seemed vaguely to notice your presence.

"I know you didn't want to eat earlier," you began, putting the meal down next to him, "but I thought that maybe your appetite had returned in the meantime."

Sometimes you were entitled to a small, hoarse "hum" from the back of his throat as a response, but you wondered if it was intentional since his gestures didn't match this slight sign of life. Unfortunately, tonight wasn't part of that "sometimes." No noise, barely a breath. But you didn't get discouraged.

The first few times you came to talk to him, his complete lack of reaction had made you wonder about his possible understanding of your language. Yet you had read that he read and spoke at least two languages, including yours. You might not understand what I'm telling you, you had mumbled while picking up his used clothes. Your biggest interaction with him had been when he had looked you straight in the eye and said in a pleasantly deep voice: I understand.

“Other than that you can-”

You were surprised to see him stand up on his own, studiously heading towards the exit door while waiting for you to open it. You were usually the one who went first to the exit, waiting two or three seconds for him to get up and join you. But this was a nice surprise, maybe it meant that his condition was improving.

Your electromagnetic pass stuck to the dashboard, a small beep sounded before you pushed the heavy door and let Barnes go first. These security questions were mandatory for you to approach the Winter Soldier. Always making him walk in front of you, making your pass inaccessible – hidden in your sleeve most of the time as Bruce had advised you –, a bladed weapon concealed against your ankle in case of trouble, and you weren't supposed to talk to him about yourself or the team. Clint had wanted to add an additional rule: not to speak to him unless necessary, to prevent any risk of manipulation. Did you look at him carefully? Had you imposed yourself in the discussion, he didn't utter any opposition during the whole process to bring him back here, and then remember his mission reports, he wasn't a spy but a mass murderer, he was programmed to speak as little as possible to his victims. Tony had agreed with you on the subject, recalling the case of Loki – once again – who was very different from Barnes.

Stupid rules, you thought as you watched the silhouette of the man in front of you advance in the long corridor. If the others saw him for more than five minutes, they would realize that he was nothing more than a victim in this cell. They all found you a little naive and they appreciated you for that, a ray of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet you were by far the one with the best perception of the others. Each villain had arguments, good or bad, you listened to them all. You reasoned with the team, making them come out of their superhero bubble to show them the possibility of a little levity.

You did not doubt the abilities of Barnes, you wanted to find yourself face to face with him even less than with Nat – and that was already a lot –. You sometimes looked again at the surveillance videos taken the day Natasha and Steve fought him for the first time. He was hypnotizing, in the way all his movements seemed to come together with such fluidity and speed, the way his body thought for him and acted accordingly. You were dizzy from a roll in comparison, so seeing it all was astounding. Of course, there were horrible explanations behind these gifts, just like most people who could reproduce all this, but you still couldn't help but analyze these videos. And then, there in that hallway, you looked at Barnes' back, his arm gleaming, the red star enthroned there, and you wondered what was going on in his mind. What he could do was inhuman, and seeing it in image reinforced that feeling.Then you had to realize that he was a human being, who had once been like you. His way of functioning had to have been completely disrupted, distorted and destroyed. We had to reduce to crumbs what had been to build what was now, that was how it worked. To adapt to a new environment we were always advised to forget everything we thought we knew, all the movies said it. In the same way that flat-earthers were convinced that the Earth was flat, Barnes no longer saw the world the way you did.

As the rules said, you discreetly put your pass in a pants pocket as you reached the bathroom. Simple locks served as security, and it was more than enough. No one except you had ever mentioned the possibility that Bucky was trying to end his life. If he did, the bathroom was the best place, which is why a simple lock would do the trick so that you or someone else could break down the door if necessary. But you avoided thinking too much about this exit, because through the few interactions you had had with him and the thoughts you had about him, you had become truly attached to him.

You opened the shower curtain, under Barnes' intrigued gaze. Each Avengers had a bathroom with the bare minimum in their room, but there were also three larger bathrooms on the second floor. These were the rooms to clean yourself in an emergency when you came back covered in blood, or Bruce went there in the event of a green alert for example. They were more accessible than the bedrooms, which explained this function. But what made Bucky curious was not that. You always gave him room number two, with a basic shower, a sink and a toilet. But there you were in number one, with a bathtub. He quickly detailed the room, slightly larger and apart from the bathtub there was nothing that differentiated it from number 2. As always, you had previously removed all objects that could be used as weapons. The pile of two clean towels overhung by harsh soap and shampoo – to avoid the risk of swallowing or too aggressive eye attacks – and the washcloth, were still carefully placed on the edge of the sink. So why a bathtub?

As if you were reading his mind, you turned around in a fluid movement. You took the time to appreciate Barnes' expressive gaze – it was so rare – before answering his questions.

"I assumed it must have been years since you had a real bath, you tried to avoid the Hydra subject, so I thought it could be a good idea?”

A good number of emotions passed through the blue of his eyes, only accentuating your apprehension about his reaction. No one had been even friendly to him for a long time, which meant that he was going to take a while before properly reacting. But as you had imagined, his gaze scanned the bathtub behind you at breakneck speed in search of a trap. I'm not like them, you thought with a pang of heart.

"I know what you must be telling yourself, but there is no trap Bucky,” his name resonated more than you would have imagined, “it's going to be long but believe me I'm not trying to kill you or hurt you"

A heavy doubt seemed to weigh, and you could only understand. This kind of sentence, he must have heard far too many before ending up electrocuted or worse. To help his process, you moved away and let him fully observe the place. His eyes locked on the shower head longer than expected, and once again, you felt nauseous as you imagined the traumas that must be replaying in his head. In that moment, you thought back to the first time you had led him into a bathroom. He had refused to get into the shower, his jaw clenched to the point that his teeth must have hurt, he had stared at you with a cocktail of indecipherable emotions in his eyes. You had ended up remembering the treatment reserved for Jews in the showers during the Second World War, and you had immediately apologized. Sorry, I should have thought of that, you had said guiltily, if you want you can just wash yourself with the washcloth and the faucet water, no need for the shower head today if you don't trust it. And the situation seemed to be happening again tonight, he was afraid that you would want to get rid of him during his shower, or bath in this case. Unfortunately, techniques have evolved since 39-45, especially since he was in the HQ of the greatest engineer in the United States, which meant that you could have found many methods to kill him while he was washing.

But you had to find a way to reassure him, because you had no intention of executing him quietly, and you wanted to be sincerely nice.

"Maybe if it reassures you I can-,” you hesitated before telling yourself that it was for a good cause, “I can stay with you? There's a curtain anyway"

Faced with his expression that swayed from surprise to doubt, you felt obliged to justify.

"If there's gas or an explosion, I'll die with you, which wouldn't be very appreciated by the team”, you paused slightly to gauge his reaction, “and if there's anything else threatening you can kill me yourself since I'll be right next to you”. You then brandish the door’s key between your two fingers, “on top of that I lock us in and leave the key on the edge of the bathtub, so I don't run away and lock you behind me"

You had the strong impression that in another time, Barnes would have smiled, maybe even laughed. Then, to your surprise, you saw a semblance of amusement in his eyes. An almost invisible veil that lasted only a second, just long enough for a distant version of him to take over the Winter Soldier. You couldn't help your smile, waiting despite everything for a more concrete reaction before reacting in return.

Bucky tried to get a dominant emotion out of the hubbub that was playing in his mind. You were definitely different, and he was beginning to understand why you had your place in the middle of a band of superhumans. And even if someone who spoke like you had the perfect profile to manipulate people at a high level, he risked taking his chance.

"Can I have twenty seconds alone to undress"

The shiver that electrocuted your entire body surely did not go unnoticed. His voice, his tone, gave a more directive than questioning turn to his question, and you only nodded slightly. In turn, you became as silent as him, too disturbed by the outburst of reactions on his part in such a short time. You left the bathroom, pushed the door behind you without closing it, because despite your shock, your unconscious valued your safety.

While you waited for some signal authorizing you to enter the room, you wandered on new thoughts. Barnes had not spoken to anyone from what you had been told. The cameras had recorded that during the fight to neutralize him he had spoken, a few Hydra men were with him so you had assumed that he was giving them orders in Russian. Natasha had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to what he had said, but in hindsight, you wanted to know what had come out of his mouth that day. Tony liked to say that Russian was one of the least welcoming languages in the world, but strangely hearing it from Bucky made you want to. Maybe it was his growling voice, maybe because Russian had been his “native” language for years. Besides Russian, he spoke other languages according to reports, but then again he hadn’t shown off his skills to anyone but you. Besides, I’m pretty much the only one he’s seen since he arrived, you thought. But he had still had the opportunity when Bruce had come with you to visit him to check a wiring on the dashboard. He could have done it from his cell too, since it was completely transparent and he could see the hallway where many people passed, he could have talked. But he hadn’t, and without knowing why you had the feeling that he only wanted to talk to you.

The sound of water almost made you jump. You muttered a curse – hoping Bucky hadn’t heard – before slowly turning towards the door.

“Can I?” You rather ask to avoid a drama.

By the time he answered, you let your mind wander again. What if he was just naked in the middle of the room? Hydra had conditioned him to lose all sense of ownership, to make even his body no longer belong to him, which he meant was that nudity was no longer taboo and that on the contrary – given to the horrors these people had done – they could very well have forced him to stay naked to humiliate him further.

"Yes," his voice echoed vaguely.

Preparing yourself for the worst, you took a deep breath and kept your eyes high to avoid any eye contact in the wrong place. But as you opened the door you were relieved to see the curtain halfway drawn and Bucky already in the water. A feeling, which at the time you compared to a parent proud of their child, warmed your heart. It may not have been much in the eyes of the world, but you imagined the man's feelings when he plunged a body that had become almost unknown into warm water prepared for him, and him alone. Comfort, surprise, relief. A lot must have been going on in the Winter Soldier's head.

You closed the door behind you, locking the exit as planned. But as you moved closer to place the key next to him, a second wave of heat passed through your body as you realized something. He had only drawn the curtain halfway, thus hiding the lower part of his body but leaving you all the pleasure of seeing from his torso. Once again, in other measures you would not have found the situation moving, but rather comical. Except that this is the Winter Soldier, and all his communication was done without voice. He had left his arms and face visible so that you too could see that he wasn't a threat. In the same way that you had found a solution to his anxiety, he was taking a step towards you, showing you that you had no reason to fear him at the moment.

"Thank you," you murmured.

As if you were afraid of breaking the moment, you settled down without a sound. There was no chair here, but the floor suited you. You crossed your legs while resting your back against the small extension of the wall attached to the bathtub. This way, you stayed close enough to him while respecting a necessary distance to avoid seeing the rest of his naked body.

You forgot to check the time, no longer counting the minutes of observation that the man in front of you gave you before asking questions.

Bucky stayed in the water for a whole hour before it started to cool down. You spent all your time detailing his relaxed face, his eyes closed as if he was going to fall asleep from one second to the next. Then when he opened his eyelids again, he looked at you in turn for a few seconds, before asking you if he could get out of the bath. In his sentence, reality hit you again.

You had a mad desire to tell him that he was free, that he no longer had to take orders. You wanted to show him the world, to make him taste vanilla ice cream, to make him smell incense in churches, the greasy of triple burgers. You had the need to see him buy with his own money, help him get up from his first falls. When he looked at you with his big blue eyes, waiting for your permission to get out of a bath, you wanted to ask him for forgiveness, in the name of humanity. To promise him that no one would come and hit him, to promise this little boy that nothing would happen to him, that he could live a peaceful and happy life with his friends and family. But looking at the raw skin on his left shoulder, looking at the weapon that was implanted in his body, you felt your stomach turn. No one had been there to protect this child from Brooklyn, none of the people who had done this to him had even felt sorry for this man. And today he was sleeping in a cell capable of resisting the strength of the Hulk.

"You can get out of the bath," your voice broke.

He obeyed, rolling the superhuman muscles of his body to straighten up. You barely moved, being too far away in your thoughts to even think of looking away from him. A new blow was dealt to your heart as you realized that yes, he no longer had any notion of possession over his body. Two drops of water fell against your calf as he grabbed the largest towel and wiped his skin without emotion. The rough sound of the fabric made you shiver, and then you slowly stood up. He was taller than you, but neither that nor his robotic arm stopped you from grabbing his wet towel. His body failed to react when you passed the white fabric against his arm, his face was frozen in an expression of total incomprehension, faced with the softness with which the towel came into contact with his skin.

You finished your task, as if he were just a tiny puppy to wipe. Then, you took three steps back and fixed your eyes on his. You handed him some clean clothes, before taking the key back and heading towards the door.

“I really need some hot chocolate,” your voice still broken with tears declared, “and I’d love to share it with you, Bucky.”

Your slightly trembling hand wiped the moisture from your cheeks, then gradually turned back to the soldier after unlocking the exit. He had already dressed, the black jogging bottoms falling low on his hips. Bucky examined your face, and his eyebrows met in a half-confused, half-sad expression. He got close enough to you for you to feel the warmth he gave off.

“No cinnamon,” he said, “I don’t think I like it.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, telling yourself that only you could find yourself in these situations.

“No cinnamon.”

There was a first time for everything, and when you saw – later that night – whipped cream on the Winter Soldier’s lips, you thought that after all, the child could not be saved but that you could bring the man back to life.

pictures : Pinterest

dividers : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 1 year ago

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I’ve binge read your blog tonight! Amazing! I was hoping your requests are open if not please ignore this message 😊

What about astarion x tav reader , who’s an artist - astarion who’s dying to look in a mirror but she depicts him perfectly , possibly angst to fluff? Feel free to take this prompt any which way, I thought this would be wholesome 😊

Aww, that's so cute!

This reminds me of that comic that's floating around here with Tav drawing him and Astarion, not knowing what he looks like anymore, looking over their shoulder like "ooooh you got a crush on this random man we don't know. who is he?" So I mixed that vibe in here!

This is set just a bit before he realizes he's in love with you because I love that for him.

Astarion wasn't worried. He wasn't obsessed, he was just intrigued. Curious even, mildly perplexed at worst. Because he had no idea why he kept catching you drawing the same elf time and time again. And you refused to tell him why.

Now, in all fairness you did occasional sketch out other members of your group. Not everyone, just the few who had the patience to stay still while you worked. Wyll, Shadowheart, Halsin. It was a passion of yours, your art, something that Astarion always liked about you. It helped that you were fantastic at it. You're drawings were so life-like, capturing nearly every feature on their faces. They always left Astarion sincerely impressed, the few times he had managed to see them. Because for someone so talented, you were oddly secretive about your sketchbook.

Now that didn't exactly stop Astarion from seeing them. There were the times he would shamelessly watch you over your shoulder, only leaving when you noticed him and started flailing to cover up your work. He also took the opportunity to occasionally steal it from your tent while you were gone without him, a consequence of you trusting him. He had warned you about that, hadn't he?

You really did create beautiful work. From picturesque scenery to your famous portraits. Though it seemed you had a favorite subject, that damned unnamed elf. You knew the man well enough to draw him from memory it seemed, because Astarion would have remembered running into that face.

Why you never asked the man you're sleeping with to model for you instead of this stranger, he wasn't quite sure. But it was starting to bother him. It didn't help that he was objectively handsome, attractive in a semi-mysterious way. It was even worse that you would start blushing and stuttering whenever he asked about him. You wouldn't even give him a name, just vague stumblings.

"He's um, from Baldur's Gate," You had mentioned once, completely avoiding Astarion's eyes, "It's um. Not important."

"So you'll be introducing us soon then?" Astarion had asked, half-hopeful that you'd deny it. His life would be a lot easier if the mystery man turned out to be a long-dead lover.

But instead you just gave him a shaky nod, "I-sure. Y-Yeah. One day."

And you had left it at that, staying infuriatingly vague whenever he brought the subject up.

Astarion wasn't worried. He wasn't. Or maybe he was, purely off the fact that it couldn't be healthy to be so obsessed with one man's face. Especially if the man in question wasn't him.

Astarion was aware that he was attractive. He had to be for everything he'd gotten away with over the years. But he literally could not know how he matched up to this... random stranger. Who, by the way, had done nothing to help you while you had a mind flayer parasite trapped in your head. Astarion certainly had that over him at least. But he wasn't quite sure if he matched up in... other areas.

Astarion wasn't exactly used to being self-conscious. At least not when it came to his appearance. The ability had been taken away from the second Cazador got his fangs into his neck. He still thought about it, often in fact, that he had no idea what he looked like. But the enamored responses he usually received by existing quelled most worries.

Now though... now he had to wonder. And he wasn't a fan of the feeling.

He hadn't wanted to ask for your help in seeing himself, he was hoping that you would have offered on your own by now. But since that was clearly not happening, Astarion had to bring matters into his own hands.

He watched as you fiddled away in your sketchbook, suddenly obsessed with replicating the tassels on his favorite pillow. According to you it was one of the few things you didn't know how to draw perfectly, despite it looking just fine to everyone else. Astarion supposed that the artist mind just worked in mysterious, semi-frustrating ways. Ways that he frankly did not understand.

"How would you feel about drawing me sometime?" Astarion asked suddenly, his brows going up to his hairline at how the simple question made you flinch, "No offense darling but I do believe I'm more interesting than a few tufts of string."

You weren't looking at him as you answered, still scribbling away with now-shaky hands, "I-um, I'm not sure if you'd want me to-"

"Why ever not? Frankly my dear I'm a little offended you haven't asked me to model. It would be nice to be aware of what my own face looked like."

That at least got your eyes up. You looked oddly guilty, fiddling with your pencil, "I-shit. I'm sorry. I should have thought about that."

"It's fine," Astarion said with a wave of his hand. He was used to being a last priority, he didn't take offense, "Besides, you can make it up to me now. What do you say?"

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes as you nodded, "Y-Yeah. I can do that. Um, sit up a little for me?"

Astarion listened, excitement starting to crawl up his spine. He was actually going to see his own face again, for the first time in centuries. All because of the person he love-cared for. Cared for deeply. Who still made him borderline beg for the privilege but oh well. Beggars couldn't be choosers. He had learned that lesson many times.

It took a long time before you were finished, nearly three hours. Not that he minded, if anything he appreciated how seriously you were taking it. And who knows. Maybe if his face managed to be interesting enough, you'd abandon your other muse in favor of him. He could only hope.

"Okay," You said eventually, setting your pencil to the side, "It's done. But... just don't laugh, okay?"

Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, "Is my appearance that amusing?"

"No but-gods, here. Just look at it," You said, tossing the sketchbook to him, "Be gentle."

Astarion caught it, excited to hells and back as he looked down. Only to find the exact same elf he'd been seeing for weeks. Except this was more detailed than all of the ones from before. He could see... everything. The scars from that dreaded first night with Cazador, two barely there moles on the right side of his face, the exact flow of his hair. He was beautiful, a fact he was aware of, but it was still nice to see. He just... hadn't realized how many times he had seen it.

Astarion swallowed, looking up at you with wide eyes, "You've been drawing me? This whole time? I've been your 'mystery man' from Baldur's gate?"

You shrugged, picking on a string on your pants instead of looking at him, "You make a good subject. And we spend a lot of time together. And... I should have told you when you first saw it. But I just...." You trailed off with a sigh, finally gathering your courage enough to look him in the eye, "I didn't want to freak you out. I know it's a bit... creepy. I guess I didn't want you to know just... how obsessed I was. Or am."

It made sense. In all honesty, the Astarion from mere months ago probably would have found a way to find offense. But now it just felt... sweet. It made him feel warm, and incredibly idiotic. Here he had been, fretting over his non-existent competition. While this whole time he was the one constantly invading your mind. It was a strangely validating feeling. Almost like maybe... you would still want him when all of this was said and done.

He hadn't started this relationship with that in mind. In a perfect world, he'd use you to kill Cazador, cure himself of the tadpoles, gain his own freedom, then be on his merry way, you're feelings on the matter be damned. And he was actualizing that plan perfectly, if this new news was anything to go by.

So why was it suddenly making him feel ill? You had been nothing but kind to him. Accepting, trusting, all to someone who deserved less than dirt. And what would this all end in. Him abandoning you after everything you'd done?

Or maybe... it was about leaving before you had the chance to do the same.

"Do... do you not like it?" You asked, obviously nervous at his stunned silence. But it at least snapped him out of his own thoughts.

Astarion rushed to shake his head, going as far as to move to sit next to you. He took one of your hands in his, feeling uncomfortably sincere as he spoke, "I love it. Thank you for doing this for me. Thank you for all of them. I am more than happy to be your muse darling. There's nothing I'd like more."

"Really?" You asked, looking so hopeful it made his heart clench in his chest.

"Really," Astarion said, moving to cup your cheek, "But I will be expecting payment for my services. I hope you realize you'll be sleeping here tonight."

"No complaints here," You murmured, right before his lips touched yours. You were smiling into the kiss, sweet enough to make Astarion want to scream.

Just what had he gotten himself into with you?

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #asks #silly little things #i love astarion pre before he realizes fully he's in love #silly little vampire man

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imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years ago

Text

Viral Video (S.R.)

Summary: Someone recognizes Spencer and Reader from a viral video. Request: Spencer and Bau!Reader are secretly dating and while they’re hanging out with the team someone recognizes them from a photo posted on some Insta/TikTok of them being all lovely dovey in public. Like dancing or holding hands or something Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: None! Word Count: 1.1k

MASTERLIST

There is something idyllic about a cafe in the early morning. Even with the busy, bustling people, it’s calm compared to the BAU bullpen. That was why, at least once a week, a few of you would sneak out to grab a quiet(er) cup of coffee.

On this day, however, work begins to bleed into the reprieve. Although she isn’t a profiler, Penelope’s attention is fully captured by someone seated behind you. You almost think to ask her what’s going on, although you assume, like usual, she is simply distracted by a beautiful man.

But, as you quickly learn, it’s somewhat of the opposite.

“Why is that teenage girl staring at you two?”

Curious, you glance over your shoulder before you answer. You spot the young woman easily, in part because she tried to hide her ogling the moment you’d turned around.

Using basic logical deduction, you shrug.

“She’s probably staring at Spencer,” you say.

“Why would she be staring at me?” he asks.

On another day, you would mock him for such a stupid question. But you were feeling merciful, so you offer him a simple reassurance.

“You’re very attractive.”

“What?” he balks, “Who thinks that?”

He wouldn’t get his answer.

“No, she’s definitely looking at both of you,” Penelope corrects kindly.

Anxiety begins to blossom throughout your chest as the pressure mounts. You clutch your coffee mug tighter to try to fight the urge to bolt.

The small idiosyncrasy is enough to pique Emily’s interest.

“I don’t think so,” you answer late and with a notable urgency.

You can feel Emily’s eyes on you, burning through your defenses at an alarming rate. You’re almost relieved when you notice her attention shift.

But the panic quickly returns when she speaks.

“Looks like we’re about to find out.”

Slowly, you turn to reveal exactly what you’d expected to find. The young woman stood awkwardly, complete with a nervous smile and her phone held tightly against her chest.

“Sorry, this is super awkward, but are you two the couple from that video in the botanical gardens?” she asks.

You glance at Spencer, who mostly seems perplexed by the question. You are hoping he provides the right answer.

He doesn’t. Instead, he just says, “What?”

“No, sorry,” you shout over him at the same time Penelope asks the question you were dreading.

“What video?”

The girl is thankfully too caught up in your defensive response to answer.

“Oh, I just figured because you’re wearing the same dress and he—,”

From the corner of your eye, you see Emily’s mouth open with an amused shock.

Much louder this time, you squeak, “You have the wrong people, sorry!”

But the others are too intrigued. Over your protests and across the table, Emily shouts, “No, wait, I want to see the video!”

“No, we don’t,” you insist to no avail, “No, we can let the teenage girl go back to her teenage girl life.”

“Sure,” Penelope agrees.

You are almost hopeful until she continues.

“She’s free as a bird… after she shows us the video.”

You can’t blame the girl. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing when she hands the phone to the tech genius and staunch romantic Penelope Garcia. She knows naught of the terror she is inflicting on the pitiful couple she so clearly adores.

You wonder whether you could factor the cost of a teenage girl’s phone into your budget. You decide that you can’t.

As soon as the screen lights hit her eyes, Penelope gasps.

Even without seeing it, you know what it shows. That day is so burned into your brain that it is replaying before you can even think to stop it.

You can almost feel the light summer breeze on your skin. Briefly, your mind is tricked into smelling the hundreds of blooming flowers. You give into the memory, allowing yourself to escape to that magical place—the little garden with its unavoidable romance where the two of you stole a moment.

It was just a dance, a kiss, a silent exchange of sweet nothings. It was something beautiful enough to make up for all the horrors that plagued every other day in your lives.

It was meant to be a secret. Neither of you had realized that there had been at least one person in the audience (and now, unbeknownst to you, millions more).

Still, as you bask in the warmth of a precious memory, you admit to yourself that you wouldn’t have changed it even if you could.

Soon after, you are transported back to the cafe with a chorus of “Awwwe.”

“Oh, how sweet is that?” Emily whispers through a smirk.

You are trying to turn your glare into daggers but it’s difficult when you can’t unpuff stubborn, frustrated cheeks.

“I need this air dropped to my phone like, five minutes ago,” Penelope urges while frantically tapping the poor screen.

Beside the chaos, you swear you see Spencer smile.

“I need to save this and preserve it for a million years,” Penelope practically yells, “Thank you for this. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome?” the young girl laughs. Then, to be clear, she turns to you once more and asks, “So, it is you two, right?”

You sigh.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Oh my god! That’s so cool!” she squeals. “I have like, a million questions.”

“I do, too,” Emily chimes in coolly, “Like, when’s the wedding?”

“Can I be a bridesmaid?” Penelope follows up.

Finally, the girl realizes her error.

“Did they not know?” she gasps.

You don’t know how to answer without making everything worse. So, you dodge the question with a very related proclamation.

“I’m never leaving my house again.”

She is unpersuaded by your disinterest.

“You two are still together, right?” she asks.

For the first time since the start, Spencer speaks. With a lovesick smile plastered on his face, and without a hint of shame, he answers, “Yeah, we are.”

“Do you have social media? So many people would follow you.”

Spencer is wholly uninterested. He looks at you instead, only to find that you have buried your head in your hands.

“Seriously, it’s like right out a storybook,” she continues to gush.

“No, sorry, we don’t.”

His eyes are still on you. His smile grows wider when you abandon your wallowing and begin to wrestle Penelope for the teenager’s phone.

He knows all about the woman behind the tough facade. He recalls her with perfect clarity and even begins to find a hint of her through your almost imperceptible smile.

“But feel free to tell everyone not to worry,” Spencer reassures the somewhat disappointed young woman. “There really is such a thing as a happily ever after.”

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for more to read? Check out my Masterlist here!

Reid Taglist (Everything Reid): @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife

Complete Taglist (All Works): @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme

Thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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