#when around here it seems to be almost ingrained that when you see a person struggling (especially if elderly or disabled)

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Call me a boomer or whatever but I feel like fairy tales with the trope of "help elderly/disabled/homeless people because any of them might be a fairy in disguise who will bless you, but you cannot do it for the reward, it has to be out of genuine desire to do good or else the magic won't work" are very important in raising kids who are just starting to develop a sense of right and wrong and don't yet fully grasp that "you should help people because they need it"

[grimmweepers]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄: OCT 3RD

— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: yandere!dottore x assistant!fem reader

— ♤ 𝐜𝐰: obsessive yandere behaviour, emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, stalking, build up to smut is longish sorry, reader is gullible, dubcon, no preparation, pussy slapping (once), he calls you sweetheart, pet, pup, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, power imbalance, biting, 3.5k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It started with curiosity.

Maybe it was the softness in your voice as you confidently sat in his office, explaining why you would be perfect for the job, or perhaps the way you held onto the belief that he was a good person. But once Dottore saw how much you lit up when he offered you a position on the spot, he knew right then he needed to keep you close. 

This new revelation almost terrified him. 

Your voice was so innocent, clinging to him like honeysuckle, and that warmth behind your smile—it was too pure, too untainted. It had to be locked away before the world could tarnish it.

If you had paid attention, you would’ve noticed how his gaze lingered a little too long when you spoke; how his questions would dive deeper the more you got to know him.

You were ignorant of how much Dottore had deeply ingrained himself into every facet of your life, playing the role of the emotionally distant boss who eventually found comfort in your company. He saw that flicker of trust in your eyes and allowed you to believe you were the only person who could see the real him—“the man behind the mask who bled his heart and soul to you when nobody else was looking.” 

Everything was calculated. Subtle. You had become his latest obsession—a sweet, little experiment where the only result he deemed acceptable would be having you wrapped around his finger. So he made sure he was the first you turned to when things went wrong, planting seeds of doubts about everyone you knew. 

“Forgive me but your friends don’t seem to understand you.”

At first, you dismissed his comments but over time his critiques took root. You saw flaws in people that seemingly weren’t there before which made you wonder if it was truly only Dottore who had your best interest at heart. Gradually, you began to rely on him as your only confidant. Your rock. But it didn’t stop at just your relationships. Dottore had inserted himself into your daily routine, providing solutions for problems you hadn’t realised he created. After minor inconveniences and projects falling through, he was always there to pick up the pieces.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

And every time he did, you felt more indebted to him.

Dottore strung you along for years, feeding you enough affection to have you tethered with him while subtly isolating you from others. And when he finally made you his girlfriend, it was less a declaration of love and more of a confirmation of his control over you.

But you didn’t need to know that. 

You are his precious masterpiece, sculpted into the ideal partner—no longer the person you once were but a reflection of his twisted desires. 

When calling him “Doctor” transitioned from a professional title to something you moaned whenever he plowed you with his cock, it was difficult for him not to start touching himself at random hours of the day. 

Fortunately for him, he could simply just find you while you were working and suddenly, there was something hard pressed against your ass! It always satisfied him a great deal knowing how willing you were to please him, no matter the time of day.  

Sometimes he pitied you for never catching on so the first time you went astray, he was somewhat glad that his little darling wasn’t so dense.

“Dottore, I’m finding it difficult to get through to you. I feel suffocated. I’m worried about us.”

He glanced up from his notebook, almost affectionately, “You’re overthinking it, my dear.”

“I think we need some time apart," your words tasted bitter. "I just… need to clear my head. I’m sorry,” you felt guilty for even suggesting it.

“Time apart?” he repeated with a false frown, dropping his book to look at you wholly. “For how long?’

“I’m not sure.”

A tense silence hung between you, and you tried to steady your breath.

“Darling, you’re not making any sense,” he blinked.

“It makes sense to me,” you protested, “I wasn’t asking.”

Truth be told, he was more amused than angered. Although, he wondered what it was that finally provoked your sudden notion. Sure, disagreements were more frequent but it had been so long since this all began. He thought his tactics would be something you were used to by now. Perhaps you were starting to see everything for what it truly was.

Perhaps not.

Your voice was trembling but you were firm in your resolve. Dottore liked that you thought you had a choice, so he entertained you by letting the last of his smile fade from his lips, eyes narrowing in your direction. 

“So a break, then? If you think that will benefit us, I understand. But I’m not a mind reader. If something bothers you, you have to tell me, okay?”

His words seemed to melt some of your worries away so you couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. Could you really doubt someone so patient, so willing to give you space when you needed it? 

“Really?”

“Of course," the lie effortlessly slipped between his teeth, "I respect your boundaries."

You nodded as you squeezed his hand and before you could turn away, his grip tightened. “Before you go, let me remind you that I love you, so very much.” 

And without warning, he kissed you. It was lingering, with no remorse, disguised as a parting gift—as if to say he know you’d be back.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you said, feeling conflicted. 

“Doing what?” He questioned.

Dottore knew exactly what he was doing. 

———

Weeks had passed but your time away from him was restless. Days felt semi-wakeful and what emerged was not clarity but the creeping sense that the world was conspiring against you.

It was like your life had taken an irreparable turn. Work became a constant setback, and friends you thought you had made you feel isolated and adrift. Even your home, which once felt cozy and safe, was starting to feel clinical and cold. 

And who would be the one to orchestrate your misery other than the Doctor himself? That vendor who suddenly couldn’t get your orders right? A bribe from Dottore. The neighbours who started fighting at all hours? A couple he had manipulated into conflict. Even your small office, a place that once made you feel so productive, now felt claustrophobic and stifling thanks to subtle changes he made while you were away.

Each of these inconveniences wore you down, making you long for the comfort and stability that only Dottore had ever provided. 

So when you received a short and carefully worded letter from him, asking how you were, you felt a surge of relief. You didn’t hesitate to see him that very evening, desperate to talk in person.

Before you knew it, you were falling right into his hands.

On your feet, you headed straight to the entrance of his lab and stared at the door before you gave a knock.

“Come in,” he said from inside.

The moment you saw him, he greeted you with that charming smile, and suddenly all the frustration from the past weeks melted away. You rushed into his arms, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you.”

He held you close, stroking the back of your head with practiced gentleness, “Ah! You’re finally back. I can’t say I’ve been happy without you.” 

If he was beaming out of satisfaction, you were blind to it. You were too distracted by the need to hear him say it back, to say that he missed you. But instead of the words you longed to hear, he merely held you tighter.

Looking up at him, your eyes searched for reassurance, “Did you miss me?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss on your forehead, “Of course.”

“Everything’s been so hard,” tears began to well up, “I can’t believe I distanced myself when I needed you the most.” 

He was always enthralled whenever he was right.

“Let’s not dwell on that, shall we? I’m here now so don’t fret.”

His words felt like a balm to your wounded soul and you clutched onto his coat as if he might vanish if you let go. You could not refuse him and he wouldn’t allow that option to exist. Dottore watched you, elated with himself, “Come,” he said, taking your hand towards his familiar private quarters, “I have something for you.” 

After closing the door behind him, his gaze remained on you, “I was hoping you would see me sooner rather than later,” he started, guiding you to the couch where the two of you sat. “We have much to catch up on.”

Dottore wore his grief convincingly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate crystal necklace that flickered like ice in the light, “I don’t want to lose you again.” Your heart skipped a beat as he put it on for you, the weight of it cold against your skin. When you relaxed your guard, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I can’t lose you. I won’t.” 

You thanked him for the gift but felt him craning your head to the side.

“It’s ice quartz," he purred, "For the pure love I have for you. For the healing that I hope it brings to your troubled heart. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause—a thoughtful stillness, and without another word, he kissed the exposed skin of your neck as if you beckoned him to. 

His lips were impossible to resist, each kiss slowly claiming you as he trailed his way to your mouth. You allowed your hands to explore his hair, messing up the neatness that once was.

Dottore wasted no time, the moment his lips met yours, you felt his hungry tongue and how it tasted of false apologies and something sickeningly sweet. He kissed you like he was starved—like he'd wanted his mouth on yours for weeks.

"Do you still—" he lightly pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, "—feel suffocated?"

Yes, you wanted to say. But for an entirely different reason now. This type of suffocation made your head spin and left something tingling between your legs.

"No," you finally answered against him. A string of saliva connected the small space between your lips. You relaxed under him and he took it as a chance to shuffle himself between your thighs.

"Hmm, I'm glad," he smirked before forcing another kiss out of you. Between gasps for air, his impatient hands found the hem of your blouse, unbuttoning it as he pushed you on your back. You pulled him down with you because you refused to part from the sinful way his lips collided with yours.

Piece by piece, layers of clothes began to disappear until you were left with nothing except the necklace he had given you. 

Spread out like this, you were ravishing, like a fine piece of art and the sight of you went straight to his cock. It throbbed in his slacks and you could hear his breathing growing uneven. At that moment, he could’ve taken you like an animal but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Mmh!” you moaned in surprise as he cupped your breast, fondling your sensitive nipples and practically anywhere else that was available to him. He was so precise in everything he did, it was no wonder he was in his profession. 

The time you spent apart had left you already aching for him so when he dipped his fingers between your quivering thighs, he felt your arousal. You were hot and puffy and embarrassingly wet.

Dottore began to toy with your clit and it pulsed under the pads of his fingers. You moaned instantly. But he was excruciatingly light with his touch which only made you desperate for more friction. You whined and even though the sound of it made his heart beat quickly, his face was unreadable.

“Patience,” he urged. Dottore waited for you for weeks and you had the nerve to whine? At the very least you could have made up for the time you robbed from him. 

You intended to listen. You really did! But when his fingers teased the entrance of your hole, your body acted before you could think and suddenly, your hips rolled towards him. He had barely even touched you before he stopped. 

Tsk, you heard from him, clearly disappointed by your lack of control.

Instead of continuing, he gave your pussy a sudden slap which left you whimpering. 

“Why—!” You trembled, feeling its stinging aftermath.

Why?

Simply put, he decided he wasn’t going to bother with what you wanted. 

In exchange for running away from him, he would show you that not everything was served on a silver platter. Seeing you go from distressed to dependent on him only excited him more. No one riles him up in the way that you do so he couldn’t bear to wait a second longer. 

“Stay like this,” there was something deranged about the smile that appeared on his face. The clinical white glow of his quarters dulled his pale skin yet his teeth glistened through his lips. You felt a chill and it wasn't because of the cold air.

He pulled away and you were immediately drawn to the tight bulge pressing against his pants. Dottore noticed. He knew you were watching.

"Now open your legs for me," he said, breaking you out of your daze. You shifted pathetically under him so it was ultimately his large hand, splayed across your thigh that held you in place. You saw his erection twitch when his eyes fell on your hole, drenched for him and all.

After quickly undoing his trousers, he pushed his throbbing length inside you in one, deep stroke. Your hands curled into the cushions and you were prepared to scream—

"Perfect," he breathed. You didn't need proper preparation. He knew your body better than you did.  

Your voice was lodged in your throat as his girth stretched you apart and Dottore couldn’t help throwing his head back, curses falling from his lips at how well you hugged him. You were so beautiful like this. He couldn’t wait to fuck you back into obedience. It was your fault for being this way, really. You were just so malleable, so easy.

“Ah, look at you. So wet already, my little pup. Did you miss me that much?” 

“Yes, I did. Yes, I did, Doctor!” you whimpered, and he began thrusting as if rewarding you for your response. His hips slammed mercilessly into yours at an unexpected pace, and you couldn’t even think about any of your frustrations anymore — each time he slid in and out was like erasing all the concerns you had before this. 

“Dottore,” he corrected you. “You call me by my name today.” There was a slight strain in his voice as he fucked you but that was better than what was going on with you. With each thrust bucking into your sweet spot, you could hardly talk. 

The coat on his back ruffled behind him with each erratic movement. It was almost humiliating how he remained entirely clothed as he rammed into you. Your bare skin was on display yet not so much as a zipper and his disheveled hair was out of place for him.

Maybe he was too eager, you thought. Or maybe it was because he wouldn’t strip himself for the likes of you. Not when he was trying to remind you that being with him was a luxury. What he needed to etch into your subconscious was: 

You could get whatever you want as long as you stay and listen. 

Huffing at the sensation of being balls deep inside your pussy, he held you with a bruising grip on your waist, fucking you in a way that had you drooling. You were trying to remember a time when he wasn’t the one making you happy or giving you pleasure — but you couldn’t. Because it didn’t exist. 

“Dott…ore,” you called breathlessly, your voice mixing with the sound of your necklace clinking against your chest. He knew you very well, you had more to say than just the spilling of his name. He could see it in your damn eyes. 

Lowering himself to your neck, he rutted you even further into the couch, “What is it, my dear?” He asked, biting into you, feeling his hot and heavy breath fanning your skin. You yelped as his teeth clenched, knowing there was going to be a mark later. 

“I… love… you…” The words came out in a broken whisper, the sincerity of your confession made his cock twitch inside of you, precum already painting the insides of your hole. 

His tongue began to trace a slow and deliberate path from your neck to your ear, keeping his relentless rhythm as he did. “Is that right?” There was a cruel edge to his voice when he spoke. And you nodded back at him, feebly. Truthfully. 

“Then act like it,” he hissed, grip tightening as he thrusted sharply.

You shuddered underneath him—out of fear or pleasure, you weren’t sure but you knew you didn’t want it to end. You pulled him closer, winding your hands around his neck while he was deep inside you. “I’m— sorry!” you moaned, an apology slipping out in a haze. 

He almost growled at the sensation of you trembling around him, his crimson eyes searing into you, “No, it’s not your fault. I should have paid better attention to you.”

Another lie but exactly what you needed to hear to keep you going.

Lewd squelching sounds filled the room as he reduced you to a filthy mess. Even in your years of being with him, you had never seen him so untamed. Your juices were getting all over his trousers and if you knew any better, you would've seen how he got off on that.

You had almost forgotten where you were, though, at that point, you didn’t care about whether anybody else in the building heard. He fucked you hard and desperately, whatever he needed to do to keep his darling at bay, and you shamelessly cried out his name over and again. It was adorable.

“Dottore… I’m close—! Fuck. Fuck!” You swallowed your words as he pounded you. 

"Dirty mouth," he grunted, "Who taught you how to speak like that?"

He hovered above you, so close you could almost feel his hair tickling your face. "Nobody," you moaned quietly this time, feeling ashamed.

Every veiny inch of him was inside you and the more you felt of it, the less you thought. You just wanted to snap, to cum on him while he drove into you.

“Oh my, you're getting tighter,” he cooed, his voice deceptively gentle as he neared his own release. “Feeling good, sweetheart? Finish with me then…” 

Fortunately—or unfortunately, his pace became rougher, like a repeated reminder of who he was to you and his hand traveled to your jaw, tipping your head to meet his gaze. Amid your bodies thrashing, he could barely keep up with his own voice,

“No one will ever love you like me

or care about you like me

or fuck you like me. Do you understand, pet?” 

“Yes—! Yes, I do,” you panted as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips further into your sloppy cunt. In your lust-clouded daze, you were too weak to register the weight of his words. His sultry voice did a great job at masking the fact that he meant every single thing he said. 

Dottore’s face twisted into a more sadistic smile, letting his thoughts get the best of him. He relished in how little and helpless you sounded, how utterly pliant you were to his will. Everything felt right again and you were back to where he had woven you. With a final, brutal snap of his hips, he spilled his seed inside you, locking himself against you. 

You arched your back as your orgasm crashed simultaneously—you moaned collectively, and your walls pulsed around his cock like you were milking every drop he’s got. His hips stuttered, not giving a damn about the way your nails bit into his skin. Instead, he slammed his lips onto yours, devouring you in a messy, filthy kiss—a perfect match for the way he had just fucked you senseless.

Still panting, he clutched the side of your face, only gentler now. His thumb stroked your cheek as if savouring the moment of seeing you act the way you should.

“I love you,” he hummed, the words slipped from his lips like it was so natural to him. "I love you."

Of course, he loved you. Everything he has done for you was for himself. Everything has been catered to him. 

His sweat-speckled forehead shimmered in the dim light and as you looked up at him, your heart softened. The weight of him on top of you and the comfort in his embrace made you forget everything, lulling you into a peaceful state. 

You sighed, feeling a bit foolish for even creating a wall between you. In front of you, he seemed so fragile, like you were the only thing holding him together. How could you have thought he was anything but honest with you all along?

Now, everything felt perfect—perfect in a way that left no room for anything else. 

No room for doubt or escape.

a/n: imagine at the end of this you think it's over and suddenly his segments walk in

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

dividers by @/astrumaur

[ann1-wr1tes]

Personal Secretary~

Synopsis: You are Leon's personal secretary/assistant. But what happens when he notices that you're overworking yourself? He can't have that now can he?

Warnings: Slight Perv!Leon, smut, Leon being your boss

Word Count: 1,650

A/N: Okay here's one more old fic I found from the past so hope someone enjoys this lmao. I don't know if its good or not and frankly i'm too scared to read it so...

-----

Leon smirks to himself silently as he eyes you from across the room. Ever since you started working for him as his own, personal secretary…he couldn't get his eyes off of you. Then again, who could blame him really? What a sight he was blessed with everyday, getting to see you in tight, little pencil skirts, clean white button up shirts and nice high heels. You just looked amazing and honestly if having to do boring paperwork meant that he'd get to look at you all day, then he'd take the paperwork in mountains so long as he could have you around while he worked.

You on the other hand tried your very best to keep focused. She's constantly try to keep herself busy by organizing things, cleaning up Leon's desk, assisting him with paperwork or even doing the simple things such as getting him a cup of coffee or lunch.

Even then though, you'd always feel his bright blue eyes scanning your figure and it was enough to make your heart race.

Just like right now. You were busy sorting different documents and papers into the filing cabinet and you made the mistake of turning around to glance at Leon, but only to find him already looking at you. He sent a slick smile from across the room and you quickly spin your head back around and mentally scold yourself. Gosh this man was going to be the death of you. How were you supposed to stay focused when he was looking at you like that?

As Leon sat behind his desk, eyeing a document in front of him, he couldn't help but smirk to himself as he had the image of your flustered face ingrained in his mind. He just loved to get reactions out of you. The way your cheeks flushed, your eyes would suddenly widen and you'd try your best to busy yourself again and act like nothing happened but Leon wasn't stupid and dammit! He found you to be excruciatingly adorable. And boy if his ego didn't rise another notch after every time you blushed or looked flustered.

You sighed to yourself softly as your fingers ran over the files. You were searching for a certain letter in particular and it was taking forever. Then again, in your defense the filing cabinet was huge and stuffed full of different documents and important papers. Plus who knows the last time someone actually bothered to go and try to organize everything like you were now.

Leon glances up at you and he watches as you seem to struggle to find the correct spot for the files. Gosh he was going crazy. You just looked so perfect, so pretty. The way the skirt hugged your hips and how your white, button up shirt seemed to really show off your chest….it almost made his head spin.

You grumble to yourself as you finally find the spot you were looking for but suddenly you hear the door to Leon's office click and you look over to find Leon locking the door. He shoots you a simple smile and walks over with a few strides. Each step of his, you could hear against the carpeted floor and it almost made shivers go down your spine.

You watch him curiously as he stops right behind you and glances at your hands that are still holding the files that you are trying to sort.

"Jeez Sweetheart, you've got a lot of paperwork to sort…" Leon mutters against your ear. His hands close around you, caging you against the filing cabinet as his chest presses up against your back slightly.

"T-Tell me about it…" you mutter. You dare not look at Leon right now with how hot your cheeks are feeling. But he can't judge you! What does he expect you not to blush when he's so close like this? You can even feel his breath lightly fan over your neck as he watches you search some more through the cabinet.

"I think it's time for a break, Sweetheart.~" He suggests.

You scoff and ignore him, rummaging some more through the filing cabinet until suddenly you feel a pair of warm lips kiss the sensitive spot of your neck and your breath hitches. Leon chuckles lightly in response and continues to press more light kisses to your neck.

"Did I ever tell you how amazing you look in these cute little outfits of yours?" Leon huskily whispers. This time chills do run down your spine. His kisses slowly start to get harsher as he lips press against your sensitive skin which causes pink marks to blossom underneath your skin.

"Leon…what are you doing?" you shakily ask as you exhale through your nose. Leon smiles and his hands plant themselves on your hips.

"What do you mean?" He asks. You roll your eyes at his fake innocence. You knew what he was doing and while it was risky, you couldn't stop it. Not when he looked so handsome in that suit he was wearing. You had never seen anything that could look better than Leon in a suit.

"You know what you're doing…" you murmur, turning your head to look at him. Leon looks at you amused and he slowly runs his finger along one side of your neck before planting another sweet kiss there. His lips slowly leave your neck and soon hes gently grasping your chin and turning your head to face him so he press his lips to yours.

He deepens the kiss quickly, pressing your body closer to the cabinet. You feel yourself becoming dizzy from the intensity and you wrap your arms loosely around Leon's shoulders as you kiss him back. Soon he starts nibbling lightly on your lower lip causing you to moan slightly before opening your mouth wider to accept his tongue into your mouth. You groan when he pushes deeper into the kiss. His hands tighten their grip on your waist and eventually he hoists you up by your thighs and has your back uncomfortably pressed against the filing cabinet.

Your legs lock around his waist as he moves to place open mouthed kisses over your neck. You could feel his growing bulge and it caused shivers to run down your spine. Suddenly Leon breaks away as he pulls at the fabric of your skirt. He tugs your skirt up, revealing your underwear that has a little wet patch form your arousal.

Your stomach drops when you see his hand glide under your panties, rubbing his thumb over your clit and you can't help but squirm a bit.

"Wet already? I've barely even touched you…" he whispers teasingly against your ear.

You whimper and pull at his tie. "P-Please Leon…." Leon hums in response and caresses your cheek lightly.

"Please what?" he inquires, looking you deeply in the eye. Your breath hitches and you let out a soft moan.

"Mmm..I need you….please…" you whimper. Gosh you were embarrassed. You were acting so needy..but then again you really did need Leon.

"You're gonna have to specify, honey." he coos at you. You pout and try to avoid his gaze but he grabs your chin and forces you to face him.

"Go on sweetheart, tell me what you want. I want to hear it." He purrs.

"Now that's a good girl." he praises you in a low voice and he places another soft kiss on your forehead.

You can feel his hard cock straining against his pants and god you wanted him so badly.

"Fuck me….please, I need you…" you plead and then realize what you just said when you see Leon chuckle lowly, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

His hands move up to unbutton his pants and he shoves them down far enough to where he can fully free himself from his boxers. You can feel your whole face heating up as you watch his cock slap against his stomach and it took your breath away.

He smirks as he sees your flushed face, watching how you lick your lips hungrily. He leans down to grab your hips and hold them in place while you keep your legs wrapped around his waist.

"You know you're so damn gorgeous, right?" Leon whispers softly against your ear. Before you can respond a moan is ripped from your throat as you feel his cock stretch you out fully. It made your back arch into him and you had to grip his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you.

"Such a good girl for me…" he groans as he starts to roll his hips at a slow, torturous pace. He wanted to make sure you could feel every part of him and you sure could. You swore you saw stars as you felt him thrust deeper and deeper, almost hitting your cervix as you felt the cabinet behind you shake a little.

"Oh my God!" you whine as you feel your walls clenching tightly around Leon as he keeps pounding into you.

"So sensitive aren't we Babydoll?~" he teases you. You let out a gasp as he slams into you harshly and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Shhh, don't want anyone else to hear us now do we?" he asks you. He starts moving faster and soon you feel your orgasm building up and you bite down onto your lower lip as you start shaking. Your walls squeeze around his member tightly and you can see the pleasure flash across his face as he moans into your neck, trying to muffle the sound.

You clamp a hand over your mouth as both you and Leon can hear footsteps on the other side of the door. Your eyes widen and you look at Leon who is still rolling his hips in and out of you without a care.

"Lets see if you can stay quiet…" Leon growls playfully.

[inquisitornocturn]

⊱─ 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕕𝕖 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Ascended Astarion x f!reader the vampire bride

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, teasing, biting, choking, blood drinking, fingering, spanking, verbal degradation (mild), reverse voyeurism, PIV, praise kink, dirty talk, blowjob, begging, cum, facial, reader is quite cheeky in this one, plot what plot

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: meetings, forever boring, never quick enough. you're irritated that no one seems to be able to stay on track and Astarion is not helping at all, he's enjoying the gossip. it's time you move things forward if you want to leave the Council Room before whole day passes without anything productive being done. but Astarion is not too happy that you take initiative without his permission. he'll punish you for this and you will make sure to enjoy it.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 6,931

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: written for a friend. thank you so much for many many fun times <3

for @rhiaden

Slow. So slow. The sun coming in through the windows, the chatter of men and women, the sound of shuffling papers. It’s like time itself has slowed down in this moment. Your eyes sweep around the room and you see all the familiar faces that you have seen many times before, even in this very same room. Some laughter. You frown. This again. Why nobody just gets on with the meeting, you don’t want to spend the rest of your morning here. 

The tapping of fingers to your side begs for your attention and you glance over almost absentmindedly.

“Darling, you’re scowling again, you know that scares them.” Astarion mutters so that only you can hear and you resist the desire to roll your eyes. Of course they are scared, that’s deeply ingrained in their nature after all, to be scared of those who don’t bend or bow no matter the circumstances.

“I’m just waiting until they pick up the topic again.” You give Astarion’s tapping fingers a short glare and he stops immediately then looks around. He’s not fond of these meetings either even when they are, in their own way, mandatory.

“It might take a while unless someone makes them focus on the task at hand. You know how they get - most of them gather here to gossip and share secrets that belong to someone else.” he responds with a small grin and looks back at you, his gaze meeting your eyes.

“You are here for the same reason.” you lift your eyebrows at him and Astarion chuckles lightly.

“Perhaps. But that’s what’s fun, love. Gossip, not this…” he waves his hand trying to emphasize a thought that you know very well. 

He never has been a details person and he didn’t suddenly become one after he took his place as a Lord. He’s learning though, you can see that much. From others and from you, and it makes pride swell in your chest. Lord or not - he’s still the one you love and want to see succeeding. 

“Listen, I’m not going to sit here all day looking pretty just because they can’t keep themselves on track.” you tell him and Astarion pats your hand that’s resting on the table. He looks like he wants to say something but then you both hear his name being called out. For a second you notice a shade of annoyance pass over his face before your lover composes himself and plasters on a perfectly pleasant smile.

He stands and pulls at his doublet, straightening it out, then gestures over the room.

“My dear patriars, why don’t we get back to our topic?” Astarion asks loudly, making the room fall silent and all eyes turn to him. He pauses for a moment until every last person present stops shuffling around or moving and starts paying him full attention. “Let’s not forget why we’re here, shall we?” his charming smile is as beautiful as ever even though you can see how fake it is. He hates these meetings, after all. 

“But what can we even do, Lord Astarion?” one of the nobles asks and you don’t need to look who it is to recognize the voice with ease - he’s one annoying man you wouldn’t mind getting rid of yourself. “The assassination attempt just tells us that we have to be careful about who we cross!” what a coward, you almost scoff.

“Yes, we should be vigilant but now there’s a spot open in the council. Why don’t we try to find a suitable candidate for it?” Astarion keeps his little smile and you have to keep yours down. The assassination, after all, was your doing. Astarion even has a new candidate picked out, he only needs to make others see why they should vote for this newcomer.

“So who do you propose?” another voice and this time you look at the speaker. Lady Lyssa is probably the oldest member of the council but so far she has not been trying to interrupt Astarion’s schemes. Good for her. 

At the question Astarion glances at you, wanting to receive your confirmation before he announces his chosen but you just want to get on with it. Instead of nodding to him or giving any other sign of approval, you stand up, very much to his surprise, and decide to take over the proceedings that usually take painfully long. 

“We believe that Lord Folwin is perfect for this position, he has proven himself loyal and trustworthy to the Gate.” you begin and notice Astarion giving you a pointed look, but with a grin he sits down in his chair crossing his legs and leaning back, letting you take over. 

A murmur washes over everyone gathered and you continue, making sure your voice is loud and clear for everyone to hear exactly what you are telling them. Wrapped up in this whole discussion you don’t really notice the intense look Astarion is giving you, neither do you notice an edge to his smile that you would recognize easily - while he’s impressed that you are quickly moving the meeting and are persuading others to agree with his selection, he’s still not entirely thrilled at the idea of you possibly thinking that you can easily upstage him whenever you wish. 

By the time most of the arguments are resolved about this new candidate you start noticing something - a foot tapping rather impatiently and when you glance back at your lover his eyes immediately meet yours, burning into you with intensity of hell’s fire. You raise an eyebrow at that but turn away when your attention gets called, deciding that you can deal with whatever bothers Astarion afterwards.

And yet the tapping doesn’t stop, beginning to irritate you as you speak to the nobles, now feeling hyper-aware of it. Fortunately, the meeting doesn’t last much longer and you feel free to dismiss the patriars who start leaving the room by one or in pairs, discussing things that matter only to them. 

Tapping of Astarion’s foot only stops when you at last turn to him and cross arms on your chest.

“What was that?” you ask immediately, even before the last noble leaves and Astarion raises his eyebrows at you, feigning innocence.

“What was what, my treasure?” he smiles and finally you see that edge in his features. Ah, he’s unhappy about something although you are not really sure what exactly.

“The noise.” you respond sharply and Astarion’s smile fades as if it was never there.

“I was just waiting for you to finish your little performance.” he says sounding almost casual but both of you are irritated now and it’s obvious. 

“My performance?” you snap at him, raising your voice just enough to show him that you don’t want to take his attitude and Astarion frowns, standing up now.

“Darling, did you think I won’t notice?” he reaches out to you, trailing his fingertips along your jawline and you almost move away but his touch is warm and comforting, making it hard for you to remain serious.

“Notice what exactly?” you break into a grin and Astarion gives you a curious look then allows himself a small smirk.

“That you’re trying to be leader of our little meetings. Not the first time you speak up without permission.” his thumb finds your bottom lip and rubs it slowly, his eyes focused on what he’s doing and you press your palms against his chest softly.

“Permission? Since when I need a permission from you to speak?” you dip your head slightly forward and catch his thumb with your teeth, making him inhale sharply. You’re getting to him and you know it. So much for his bravado.

“When we’re in meetings discussing things of importance I need you to be compliant and agreeable, my dear.” Astarion grins wider and his fingers grip your chin tighter as he pushes his thumb into your mouth before you can bite down harder and stop him. “You see, when patriars of this wonderful city are watching, well… I can’t allow them to think that you’re the one speaking for us, love.” your lover’s eyes finally rise to yours and you see his thoughts clearly written in his expression, it’s almost as if you can read his mind just without the tadpole anymore. 

He wants to remind you that he’s in charge because it did annoy him that you took initiative without consulting him first. Appearances matter, that’s something he always repeats to you. And his appearance matters most of all. 

You watch his expression change immediately when you lick at his finger provocatively and bite down just a little bit stronger onto his thumb.

“Ah! Release it, darling. I need you to answer me.” Astarion scolds you softly and you are almost tempted not to follow his instruction but relent and release the digit from your teeth. 

He pulls it away and steps closer now, making sure that your eyes never leave his, making you drown in the scarlet of them. 

“You have to promise me, love.” he pauses while his hands find your waist and pull you closer. “Promise me that you will behave next time.” Astarion’s tone of voice is serious and you can’t help but melt at his touch, this closeness, however it’s just too much fun to tease him.

“And if I don’t?” you ask, grasping onto his doublet with your fingers and giving it a gentle tug. “You will punish me? Teach me my lesson? Oh no, how I will survive the wrath of one Lord Ancunin.” you tease and notice his jaw clench even though his smile remains.

“I always knew you liked to play with fire, but this is not something I’m willing to discuss. Either you agree to do as you are asked or I will have to remind you of your position.” he leans in and you expect a kiss but instead he whispers into your pointy ear. “And your position is on your knees in front of me, darling.” 

You pause, for a moment smelling his perfume and enjoying his body pressed against yours, but you don’t want to just agree with him. If he wants you to agree and comply, well, he’ll have to show you that he’s worth complying for.

You lift your face, getting closer to his ear and smile widely.

“Is that so? If I recall correctly it was you who kneeled in front of me last time.” you whisper, feeling almost giddy because it’s true. Indeed last time he was kneeling with his mouth pressed firmly between your legs while you grasped the curtains where he cornered you. The memory sends a tingle down your spine. 

Astarion pauses at your words and you gasp loudly when he suddenly bites your ear just enough to send a shockwave of pleasure down your body. Damn elven ears. You try to move your head away and he lets you as he leans back to look at your face. The grin you see on his face spells danger. But the kind of danger you like. 

“Insolent little pup, seems a lesson is in order after all.” Astarion’s voice carries a promise that you won’t leave this room without being reminded that you’re his, for eternity. 

“Go ahead then, teach me that lesson.” you smile to him and he frowns just a little bit, then returns your smile with a smug one of his own.

Without another word he turns slightly to the side and pushes you backwards until you’re against the table. You make a point to check if the door is closed, but finding it ajar you decide not to mention it. With growing anticipation to crown this boring meeting with something much more pleasant, the thrill of being seen by some spoiled noble only adds to your excitement. 

“You’re not escaping.” Astarion misinterprets you looking away from him and you return your attention to him with a chuckle.

“Would you let me if I tried?” you tease and he grins, the type of grin that shows his fangs like a promise of danger. 

“Want to try?” he asks but you’re not given the chance to answer because suddenly you feel his fingers grip at the seams of your pants then pulling at them, forcing you up the table and sitting you on the edge of it. Another moment and he easily pushes your legs apart, taking his rightful place between them. “But if you do try….” Astarion continues speaking while his fingers release the fabric of your pants and grip your hips possessively. “…I don’t promise to play nice.” with a whisper he briefly brushes his lips against yours and then his head dips down, to your neck.

You lean your head back and gasp when you feel his lips press wetly to your skin. Your hands move to embrace him, one arm around his waist and another around his neck, you tangle your fingers into his silver locks.

“Maybe sometimes I don’t want you to play nice.” you whisper, letting your eyes close as you relax into sensation of his tongue sliding across the bite marks he left you with on the night he made you his forevermore. Yet your words give him a pause and he chuckles.

“Is that so, my dearest pet?” he asks cheekily, making you smile, and you pause before replying because you begin to feel his fangs against the skin of your neck, grazing lazily, poising to bite. 

You gasp when his teeth sink into your skin and you pull his body closer to yours in an attempt to signal your growing need. After a moment or two of taking a few swallows of your blood Astarion lifts his head and looks at you, amused.

“So eager already?” he taunts and you give him a look from under your eyebrows, tugging at his hair lightly.

“You are the one eager here, I just…” you pause, then smile. “Follow your lead, as you wished.” 

“Funny.” Astarion licks his lips clean from last traces of your blood, then glances at the door himself, seeing at last that is still ajar. “You saw this and said nothing.” it’s not a question but a statement and you blush ever so slightly because you got caught.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared to be seen.”

“Oh, darling. Of course I’m not. If I so desire I will fuck you in the middle of Baldur’s Gate while the crowd cheers with my every claim to your body.” Astarion smiles and something in his tone tells you that he’s not just teasing, he truly believes he can do as he pleases within the city. It makes you squirm slightly because his confidence is something that always makes you want more of him, more of his touch.

“Then what are you waiting for? Didn’t you want to teach me a lesson?” you tug at his hair again, this time stronger, making Astarion inhale sharply and give you a dangerous smile.

“I’m not sure if you’re going to learn that lesson unless I get strict with you, my love.” he pauses, thinking for a moment, his eyes flick to the door and back to your face. You know it betrays your desire underneath the cheekiness that you’re displaying right now. He knows you maybe even better than you know yourself. “But fine. I’ll indulge you. If my consort wishes so.”

Astarion offers you a smile that you can’t quite read before he grabs your throat and squeezes, not letting you inhale. His expression turns to almost vicious satisfaction at your reaction. 

“Good. I like that expression on my bratty little love. It fits you.” he says and steps away from you while still holding your throat, making you release your grasp on him. Without another word he pulls you off the table, making you stand on your feet and walks you alongside the table until he finally seems to have chosen a spot. “Perfect.” Astarion sounds almost gleeful now but in a way that doesn’t sound unpleasant. Whatever he has in mind - you want to experience it. 

You are not given the time to read his expression and possibly understand his intentions because your lover turns you so that you bump into the table again and he leans to your face, releasing his punishing grip on your neck at last.

“Try to be quiet, little love.” there’s real threat unveiled in his words, a promise of punishment if you fail, and you know that this time he means it. 

Indulging you or not, his reputation still hangs in the balance if he’s caught fucking in the Council room. You swallow dryly and nod, not even arguing anymore. How he handled you just now was enough to make your craving for him bigger than your need to be bratty with him. 

“Let’s see if you can be a good girl for me or if I’ll have to fuck you like a back-alley slut to make sure you listen to me.” Astarion grabs your hips and turns you around, then his hand shoots up and grabs the back of your head, forcing you over the table and you finally realize why he pulled you here - from your position you can clearly see the open door. 

That bastard.

You grin to yourself but then pause as your eyes widen in short surprise because you feel Astarion’s hand slide underneath you, finding the buttons of your pants. He really does intend to fuck you here and your head swims with the promise of pleasure.

“You’re so naughty, you know that, right?” Astarion murmurs as he works your pants and you smile, almost shivering from anticipation, not resisting, letting him do what he wants. “You always try to provoke me and you always succeed.” a squeeze on your neck tells you that he is in fact irritated at your earlier behavior and you have to fight yourself lest you chuckle audibly.

“I was just doing what I thought was right. The meeting was going nowhere with the pace it was crawling at.” you respond and glance at the door, for now relieved that you don’t hear anybody approaching. You don’t want to be interrupted before he fills you in that deliciously familiar way you can’t get enough of. 

“You always say that.” Astarion replies and his hand slips from under you, then his fingers curl around the waistline of your pants and yank it down your hips, exposing your rear. Another yank on your pants and they end up somewhere near your knees. You bite your lower lip because you don’t want to respond, you don’t want to risk stopping him.

Astarion easily elicits a gasp out of you when his fingers press between your legs, right against your clit and rubs it slowly, teasingly even.

“Quiet now.” he reminds you and you just hum in agreement, moving your hand closer to your mouth just in case you need to silence yourself. Your eyes do not leave the maw of the open door but your focus is entirely on what you feel - his fingers and the arousal that quickly makes you feel as if your body is on fire. He knows what he’s doing and he’s good at it. 

Your lover continues for a while, making your body shiver and your legs tremble until you give in and allow the table to support your weight entirely. You remain quiet the entire time, just breathing heavier when a familiar pleasure begins to build. You say nothing, enjoying yourself but then gasp in protest when his fingers retreat. You want to move your head, to look at him with a question of why, but the grip on the back of your neck is not relenting so you remain as you are, with your cheek pressed against the wooden tabletop. 

“Not so eager, darling.” Astarion says with a smug chuckle and if you weren’t so much in need to have him fuck you, you’d reply. However, your own desire right now overrides your wish to tease him further. 

But you fail to obey him. Just a moment after he says those words to you, you feel his two slender fingers slide right into your cunt and you moan, forgetting your promise not to. Astarion’s hand immediately leaves your neck and he smacks your rear, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. 

“I told you to be quiet.” he hisses and you let out a quieter moan but then a louder one when he slaps your rear again. “What did I say, hm?” his tone is harsh but laced with his own evident desire. You know he’s hard if not leaking for you already. “If you’re going to moan like a cheap whore, then I’ll have to fuck you like one.” 

You swallow heavily, your need almost choking you now and you move your head when you hear his movement, but don’t get to look at Astarion standing behind you. You just feel him push his fingers deeper into your sopping core and his other hand comes into your view. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, unsure but you hear only a low chuckle before his fingers seek out your lips.

“Open, my precious spawn.” he commands and you nearly moan again but part your lips for him, letting his fingers into your mouth. Two of them anchor on your lower teeth and tug at your jaw. “Keep it open for me like that, darling.” Astarion croons and you blush heavier now. He’s not making it easy for you to follow his instructions about being silent as if he wants you to fail. 

With his fingers in place, Astarion begins to move his digits inside of your pussy slowly, teasingly so, knowing very well that you want it harder and faster yet not giving it to you.

“The lesson here is-” Astarion begins speaking, his tone sounding like he’s giving a lecture to bored patriars instead of having his fingers buried inside you to the knuckles. “-that you don’t like to listen, do you?” a pause while his fingers keep working, not increasing the pace just yet, and you move your hips, trying to buck them against him but he only laughs at your effort. “Nod instead of acting like a slut worth 5 gold coins.” 

Slowly you nod and can’t help letting out a small moan. You want him to know how badly you need him to do just about anything else instead of only teasing you because if someone came over to the Council room and interrupted you, you’d probably kill them on spot and that would not be a good thing for either of you.

“Oh you’re always so impatient.” Astarion chuckles again and at last, gloriously, his fingers pick up the pace. But he’s not done teasing you. “You act like a little spoiled brat, my beloved consort, acting with no grace or decorum befitting your status. Do you do this on purpose? You like to be punished, don’t you?” he coos again so sweetly that you almost believe he’s going to stop any moment and tell you to pull up your pants. But you know better. You know him better.

To his words you simply nod while at the same time swallowing the saliva beginning to pool in your mouth. Your eyes are still on the door but you don’t see it anymore because all you can see is Astarion’s face and his intense, loving gaze so clear in your mind’s eye even if you don’t see him in front of you right now. You remember it so clearly because you have witnessed that face portray pleasure thousands of times already, every single time you share the joys of intimacy, whether it’s him fucking you senseless or you just pleasuring each other, trying to discover new and unique ways to make one another tremble.

“Good, you’re starting to listen.” Astarion comments and with a disappointed whine you express your disapproval when his fingers leave your core. “Now now, best is yet to come.” he chuckles and you close your eyes, moving your legs and your hips, trying to find better footing in preparation of him claiming you which he does with almost religious fervor every single time. 

Another unexpected slap on your ass makes you flinch and you hum a question.

“I’ll fuck you when I’m ready, I thought I made that clear.” Astarion hisses at you again, then falls silent because you both hear the same thing - footsteps. 

Dread fills you and not because you are afraid to be caught, not at all, you just don’t want this to stop here. You’re so close to getting what you desperately need right now and you do your best to keep quiet instead of expressing your frustration. His fingers on your teeth twitch ever so slightly when the footsteps get closer then stop and you both hear a male voice humming a tune making seconds stretch to eternity making you so sure this is it. But no, seems fortune favors you after all because you hear the footsteps resume, except now they echo away from the Council room.

You exhale with relief and hear Astarion do the same, then he laughs quietly.

“That was close. I hope it’s going to be worth it if we get caught.” 

Your body relaxes on top of the table because you didn’t even realize how tense you became but you sigh again, letting yourself enjoy the thrill of nearly getting caught like this, it almost makes you giddy. And just to remind Astarion where you both stopped, you swing your hips again, only to receive another sharp slap.

“I swear to gods, you’re not leaving this room on your own two legs, darling.” Astarion snaps at you and you chuckle lightly but remain still.

Instead of responding to your chuckle with yet another smack on your already sore skin, he caresses the spot instead, his palm is warm and soft against the burning patch and your eyelids droop. You know he likes to play games but this is starting to become unbearable. Especially with the risk of being walked in on he’s definitely taking his sweet time to toy with you. 

“I think you’re forgetting what this is all about.” your lover begins as if he just read your thoughts. “This is about reminding you who you belong to.” Astarion’s palm keeps caressing but then it leaves your skin entirely, leaving you aching for more of his touch. “And I fully intend to remind you of that.” 

Vampire’s fingers seem to find a better grip on your lower teeth and you feel puzzled for a moment, but then you cry out because he drives his full length straight into you without a warning. 

“How is it that you never listen?” Astarion scolds you but you hear smugness in his tone, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you and the fact that he doesn’t proceed to move is telling enough - it is a punishment, and you’re not enjoying this as much as you thought you would.

You try to buck your hips against him again in a futile attempt to get him thrusting but he just tugs at your teeth and grips your hip with his other hand.

“I’d want to hear you beg but I like when your mouth is busy doing other things.” he says in a tone of voice that tells you he’s enjoying this very much. You mewl slightly in response, trying not to be too loud now just in case he decides to prolong your torture any further but it seems that this time he is satisfied with your response. “That’s much better.” he gives your hip a squeeze and finally begins moving.

You can feel your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head from relief that you feel right now and the pleasure that envelops your body. Finally. Finally he’s giving you what you want most - himself. And sensation of him filling you at last is divine. It’s everything. It’s familiar, it’s desperately needed and it gives you a sense of being one with him. A feeling no other indulgence in this world can even come close in comparison. 

Astarion’s thrusts begin slow, lazy even, in reminiscence of his teasing earlier and you moan again, wanting him to hurry up, to give it hard and fast - he made his point after all.

“Tell me you will listen to me from this point on.” Astarion’s voice reaches your ears and you nod slightly. “Do you promise to behave?” you nod again but smile too, you know your promises are empty and so does he. It’s not the first time you two perform this dance and it always ends the same. The most delicious cycle you will never tire of repeating. “I could almost believe you.” he laughs but then you feel him lowering himself over you. “Still, pet, if I hear a sound out of you - I won’t hesitate.” the warning is clear even if you don’t know what that entails. You nod once more and have to choke back a moan when he nips at your ear again, his teeth sending another shiver down your body. 

Astarion’s fingers leave your hip and his palm finds its place next to your shoulder, then, after a briefest pause, he picks up the pace. Faster and harder. What started as almost gentle love-making is becoming just fucking and it’s exactly what you wanted. His hips snap against your ass, the room fills with sounds of his skin against yours and you keep your eyes open, once more watching the ajar door as if it’s a threat to ruin your fun. You try to keep silent, you really do, but more and more moans begin escaping your throat with Astarion’s increasing pace until he’s nearly punishing your body with how hardly he slams into you with each thrust. Saliva pools at the base of your teeth and begins dripping down his fingers that are still clinging to your bottom teeth while your fingers try to find a grip on the smooth tabletop.

“Shut up!” Astarion growls right above you and you try to move your head to look at him, but he does not let you because his fingers keep your face pinned to the table. “You want to act like a spoiled little brat, I’ll show you that you can take it only this far.” his tone is not seductive anymore, it’s carnal and deep and you recognize it well - he always loses himself when he’s with you, this time is no different than countless others. It almost makes you grin with satisfaction that you can get this deep under his skin with just a little bit of teasing. 

His trusts assume a punishing pace, one that will leave you sore afterwards and you know it. In fact, you welcome it and try to keep your voice down but fail miserably. You don’t care if anyone comes around anymore, because when Astarion gets like this - you know there’s no stopping him. As you begin to sink into the feeling of pleasure, letting it spread through your body, you suddenly feel your lover’s fingers leave your mouth and wrap around your throat. You only manage to lick your lips before you feel yourself being pulled up, his thrusts not stopping and keeping their pace, but Astarion makes sure that your back is now pressed against his chest. His other hand moves to your folds, sensing with his fingers how he’s moving within you and you feel his grin against your cheek.

“So obedient when filled with my cock.” he says right against your ear and it makes you moan. Your fingers grasp for purchase against the table while Astarion leans his head lower and you feel his fangs in your neck again.

You whine slightly as your head swims from pleasure and you grasp onto his hand that’s still gripping your neck, yet when you do that he releases your throat and moves that same hand to your face, his wrist all bare for you. When he presses it against your lips you pierce Astarion’s skin with your fangs, drinking his blood that tastes sweeter than nectar. Vampire’s fingers still are feeling how his cock is thrusting into your cunt but in a moment or two he moves those digits to your clit and begins rubbing. It’s practiced and you shiver while he pumps himself into you, making sure that you’re fitted on his dick neatly, just like he prefers it. 

And the you hear a whisper again, you didn’t even feel when he pulled back from your neck.

“You’re most beautiful when you’re unraveling on my cock.” he whispers and chuckles. “You’re such a hungry whore when it comes to me, aren’t you?” you nod, you don’t want him to stop but he pulls his wrist away from your yearning mouth and you open your eyes, trying to look at him but not being able to. “Moan for me like the slut you are.” 

And you do. You let your voice fill the room, completely lost in your body being taken by your lover. Lost in the feeling of him claiming you as his and his fingers working you to your bliss. You still grasp onto his arm when he returns his grip to your throat and you let your eyes close once more, smiling when you hear his strained grunts right against your ear. 

“Cum for me.” he orders and you gasp for air because he knows you’re close. 

You hold his arm firmer and lean your head back onto his shoulder, giving into the sensation of your orgasm as it washes over you, letting it overwhelm your mind. You tremble and shudder, not able to focus even though you feel Astarion suddenly stopping his thrusts and just working your clit to let you ride out your bliss. 

“Good girl.” Astarion whispers while you’re still at the height of your ecstasy and you feel him kiss your cheek. “My perfect consort, so easy to please.” he taunts with a grin and you mewl as you begin to come down from your pleasure.

You’re out of breath and you can barely stand straight. You probably would collapse if Astarion wasn’t pressing you against the table. With your body satisfied you are ready to take a moment to recover, forgetting that Astarion still has his lesson on his mind.

“You did well, my treasure.” he coos and you hear that he’s panting too but then he pulls back from you, his hands leave your body and you hurry to support yourself against the table before your legs betray you.

Confused and still dazed you glance at him over your shoulder, finally seeing his face that is sweaty and flushed from all the exertion but his smile is as smug as ever. He raises his hand and with one finger points to the floor.

“On your knees, darling.” he commands and it takes your blurred mind a moment to process the task at hand, but when it does you turn and drop heavily to your knees, looking up at him and trying to understand what is it that he wants you to do.

Astarion smirks and caresses your jaw, his hard cock coming into your view and even without a command you open your mouth for him. Pleased with your willing obedience he grips the base of his length with his free hand while propping your head higher and he traces the tip of his velvety soft tip against your lips, leaving trail of your own arousal in its wake. You lean in trying to capture it with your mouth but Astarion chuckles.

“Tisk tisk, darling. Beg for it.” he taps your lips with his cock and your eyes meet his before you swallow dryly, wanting nothing more than to taste him right now.

“Please, Astarion.” you begin, you were never good at this, but he always tells you what to say.

“Please, my love, let me taste you.” he instructs and you lick your lips, tasting yourself.

“Please, my love, let me taste you.” you repeat carefully but eagerly and Astarion grins wider, satisfied.

“You always obey.” he says smugly as he positions his dick at your lips. The moment you part them for him, he thrusts himself into your wet awaiting mouth, letting your lips clamp around his hard shaft. “That’s much better.” Astarion exhales with satisfaction and you can see it clearly in his face with his eyes clouded from pleasure. “I do like when you talk, but I can’t resist silencing you.” 

His hand tangles in your hair while he’s pushing himself deeper into your throat but he’s careful not to push too deep, almost gentle now, letting you begin to bob your head instead of thrusting his hips against your face. You watch his expression, so beautiful when painted in colors of lust, and it makes you eager to please him. His satisfied smirk remains on his lips and stays there while you keep swirling your tongue against his shaft, feeling the bulging vein with the tip of your tongue, caressing the tip of his cock gently, all while you suck on him with dedication only an eternal lover can show.

“Mind the fangs, darling.” Astarion comments and you have to tame your smile to keep focusing on pleasuring him, but suddenly his grip on your jaw tightens, preventing you from moving your head and he pulls his dick out of your mouth with a wet pop. It looks beautiful in the sunlight cascading from the windows, still glistening from your eager ministrations. “Finish what you started.” he orders and your eyes search his for answers but then you understand what he wants.

This is your lesson. Utter submission. 

And submit you will.

Your hand replaces Astarion’s, gripping his shaft and you begin pumping his cock with your fingers clenched firmly around it while his hand still grips your hair tight enough to keep your head in place as if you would even dream of moving away. No, you want this just as much as he does.

With your eyes locked on him you keep moving your hand, parting your lips wider, watching every micro expression on his perfect features because you know that each and every one of them is meant for you and you alone. 

“Wider.” Astarion gasps, you see his shoulders tensing and you recognize the look in his eyes - he’s so close, he only needs to let go. 

You open your mouth wider, eager and more than willing to make him happy right now, completely forgetting where you are and what you are doing, because nothing else matters besides making sure that he knows that you want this, want him. 

“Fuck, you’re too good.” Astarion gasps and his eyes close the moment his orgasm hits.

His fingers clench almost painfully in your hair and you keep stroking his dick, trying to aim it but his seed ends on your face rather than your mouth, lacing hot webs across your nose and your cheek until you manage to aim it at your mouth and take what’s left. Astarion moans loudly and shamelessly as he empties himself with your help, your hand working to draw every last drop out of him but when he finally looks at you his eyes slightly widen at the sight of mess.

“Darling…” is all he can say for a moment while he’s out of breath, then he moves your hand away from his softening length and leans down, lifting your face ever higher by your jaw he kept holding onto through his ecstasy, then he presses his lips against yours. You only have a moment to gulp down what little of his cum ended up in your mouth and you answer his kiss before he pulls back. He chuckles and wipes his seed from the tip of your nose with his thumb. “I should clean you up before we leave but I can’t help admitting that this is a very lovely sight.”

You smile proudly and grasp at his hand, bringing it closer and giving it a kiss before Astarion helps you to your feet. 

“Here.” he takes out a handkerchief, beginning to wipe your face with a smile on his lips. “I don’t think you learned your lesson.” 

“Maybe I’ll need another reminder later?” you ask with a grin and Astarion raises an eyebrow.

“It’s dangerous to let you out of the palace.” he laughs and you smile even wider now, feeling mischievous again while you let him get your face clean.

“You love it.” you say and tuck him back into his pants while Astarion rolls his eyes at you.

“You say like you don’t.” he comments making you laugh, then you receive a kiss on your cheek. “You did well.” he whispers to you and you smile.

“Oh I know.” you respond smugly and Astarion pauses then sighs as if he’s fed up but you see playful embers in his eyes.

“You’re going to be so much trouble, aren’t you.” he leans down and helps you pull up your pants. You button them up quickly and then grasp at his doublet with a fist, bringing his face close to yours.

“You wouldn’t dare to stop me.” you smile and he grins right back at you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[spoops-screams]

| You and I

Character(s): Malleus Draconia

TW: Bullying (?), loneliness

Genre: Comfort/ fluff

Notes: Gender neutral MC || Getting back into all of my fandoms slowly but surely 👍

"They're always off on their own."

"Yeah, they don't talk to anyone. They just sit down in the gardens and draw all the time."

"Do you think they have any friends?"

"D'know. I know the housewardens are kinda close with them after the overblots and they've got those two from Heartslabyul around them sometimes but they don't talk to any of them."

"It might just be because people need help with the overblots. It's not like there seems to be much that they can offer since they don't have magic. They just seem to be convenient to have around."

"Yeah, maybe—"

"Child of man."

"Hm?" You looked up to the sound of the familiar voice, meeting Malleus' green eyes and noting his furrowed brows and the slight pull of a frown at his lips, prompting you to immediately put your pencil and sketchbook down as worry swept into your mind.

It’s quiet for a moment; not your usual comfortable silence when Malleus has noticed how tired you’ve gotten on one of your walks or when you both simply don’t know what to say but know that you don’t have to fill the silence, but it’s heavy and it worries you the longer than it stretches on.

"Malleus? Have I done something wrong." You only just managed to stop your voice from exposing the depth of your concern, multiple ideas running through your head as you considered the possibility that he might be upset with you. Your anxiety spiked with your heartbeat and you wished for it to slow down. It was almost ridiculous how quickly you were to jump to conclusions. You were overreacting, surely.

You weren't scared of him; far from it. He was perhaps the person that you felt closest to and safest with in this world but you were scared of the idea of him being upset with you.

It was irrational, sure, but a little voice in your head still nagged you with currently unfounded concerns and fears of what would happen if you upset one of the only friends you had here. The people who talked about you being your back only really consolidated the idea that you didn't really... Have anyone here. Not that you really minded.

You were used to being lonely, yes, but you didn't want to be whenever you were with Malleus. You didn’t have to be. You couldn't stand the thought of upsetting him and prompting him to leave you alone.

The draconic fae paused for a moment and his frustration melded into concern as he watched your face twist into slight panic. He had spent so long with you that he could tell what your worries were before you'd said them. "I am not frustrated with you. Are you aware of the manner in which people speak about you?"

His emphasis had you almost breathing a sigh of relief before his actual words had registered in your mind. It took you a moment to realise what he was talking about as you sat there somewhat dumbly as you stared up at him, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

"What do you-" And then it hit you. "Oh! I mean, yeah, more or less. Why?"

It wasn't like you didn't know about the things people said about you. You just didn't care about for it to be at the forefront of your mind. Otherwise, you would never get anything done and you preferred to be able to draw in peace without having to constantly worry of other people's opinions of you though perhaps it was partially because of Vil's overblot that you were really able to ingrain that into your belief system.

"And you don't see an issue with this?"

"Well, not really? It's not like I've given anyone any reason to think otherwise and it's not exactly an unfound belief." You shrugged, the matter really not meaning much to you. You were used to it. You had expected that kind of reaction considering your support for the housewardens and vice wardens was paired with your isolation from people.

"I do kind of just stay out of the way until I'm needed and it doesn't bother me all that much. I'm only really close to you, Ace, Deuce, Silver and Lilia, if you don't count Grim. There aren't really many people here that I could really consider friends, even Sebek would be a very emphasised maybe, so I don't really have an issue with people just saying what they see."

"Honestly, I'm only barely there at the friend mark with Ace and Deuce because of how little I'm around them nowadays so it doesn't bother me much. It's not like I know these people so I have no reason to care what they say."

He looks down at you with an unreadable expression before he sighs with his eyes closed, muttering something too quickly under his breath for you to catch. He doesn't seem to know how to respond to this. He's used to loneliness, it follows him everywhere he goes because of who he is and what he represents, but you?

You're everything he feels that he isn't. So why would be resign yourself to being alone?

He hesitates to sit down next to you and you notice the way that he shifts. Reaching an arm up slightly, you gesture for him to sit down. “Come on, it can’t be that comfortable to be looking down at me the whole time. I know it isn’t comfortable craning my neck to look up at you.”

He stares at your hand for a second. It’s strange, and the first edge is still for a moment. You make a move to retract your arm, an apology ready on your lips, but he reaches out and grasps it in his.

He stares at your hand again. “Are you not-?” He doesn’t finish his question but you understand him well enough.

Are you not lonely? He can’t say the whole thing out loud. It would make him consider who he’s actually asking too deeply if he was to do so.

You smile easily up at him. “Not really. I mean, I’ve got you, haven’t I?”

Do not repost, edit or claim. Only reblog 💕

[moodymisty]

Sound Asleep

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3]

Author’s note: I’ve had this little snippet jumbled up in my phone's notes for longer than I’ve currently been on tumblr, so I decided to finally clean it up. I have so many little things like this scattered across my various devices... Help.

Relationships: BOBF!Boba Fett/Fem!Reader (I only say that because of one usage of the nickname 'princess' there's no pronouns or specific body parts mentioned.)

Warnings: A little bit of crying, Nightmares, Age gap if you squint so hard your eyes actually hurt, Cuddling, Fluffy fluff, Mean ol' Boba being a bit of a softie

Word count: 1220

You swore you hadn’t had a nightmare since your childhood years; But even then, you couldn’t remember one like this. It had all felt so real, almost touchable. You sit up awake in a daze still feeling as if it had just happened.

Jolted awake in the middle of a cold Tatooine night your hair is just starting to stick against dewy skin, heart pounding in your chest. With a few kicks of your feet you push the blanket off of your body, wanting the air to cool your flush skin, and to stop that almost strangling feeling.

You’d fallen asleep down here because of how tired you’d been, and the trek upstairs to Boba’s personal room had seemed like leagues away; Without any surety that he would even return there before you awoke the next morning. He was a busy man, sometimes rest wasn't a guarantee.

So you’d slept in your old personal room he’d given you after he brought you to Mos Espa, but now you're wishing you hadn’t. It feels so lonely in here, the room feels giant and the shadows an abyss but at the same time suffocating.

When you manage to get your heart to stop thumping on your chest so hard it feels like knocking, you slowly lay back again with your head hitting the pillow. The ceiling is cracked- your eyes following the black string down past your feet before you dare to close your eyes.

But when you open them again, the room is still dark with not a hint of light from the windows. It's as if your body was forcibly stopping you from sleeping, still spinning in whatever your mind had dreamt up. And even as your eyes feel tired and body heavy, there's no amount of quiet breathing and counting that is letting you fall asleep. The knot in your throat tightens, back of your neck aching with how tense it is.

Eventually, the constant tossing and turning proves too much to handle, and you lean up and turn to slip your legs off the side. They dangle for a moment, hands clutching the sheets as you decide if it's worth it.

Was it worth trekking what seemed like lightyears up to someone who might not even be there? Or should you stay here and lay back trying to see if you could get even a few moments of rest before the suns start rising?

Bare feet gently hit the slightly rough, sandy floor with a soft pat, the light in the room just bright enough to see around. It was a straight shot to the door, and you slowly slip off the bed before softly opening then closing it. The steps up to Boba’s private room were tall and winding, and each one felt progressively harder than the last. At least none of the droids are around, you wouldn't want even the the stars outside to see you in this sorry state.

Once you reach the top of the steps, it's easy to open the door and slip inside. The door opens to a pale glow of moonlight, and you can see Boba’s outline. He's already awake; Leaning upright.

There’s patterns deeply ingrained in him and sounds are a big part of them; The soft opening of a door or footsteps were always things that set him alert. When he sees it’s you, easy to tell by the silhouette he can just barely see through the flowing fabric of your nightclothes, it’s enough to lull those alarm bells in his head a small bit.

And with a gravely, sleep coated voice, Fett calls to you.

“Need something, princess?”

His tone is almost taunting, teasing, but you don't respond to it with any of the usual quips. When you step deeper into the room, Boba can more clearly see the ragged expression on your face. The way your body is turned into itself. He makes no noise; Instead pulling the thin blanket back revealing more of his bare stomach.

“Come here, little one.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Bare feet pattering across the floor you walk to him and place one knee onto the bed, before hefting yourself into it and slipping underneath the blanket. Within moments you feel his chest against your back, an arm wrapping around your waist. One of your hands grasps his while the other lays empty, and you feel his chin on the top of your head.

He doesn’t ask what happened to render you like this; He knows nothing he could say would help with it anyways.

What does seem to help is just him; As it’s not long of you curling up around his arm like it's your life line that you’re finally asleep. He can hear the soft sounds of you breathing, the way even in your sleep you're attempting to fruitlessly hold him tighter. You have his arm in a death grip, and any attempt to pull away would surely wake you.

Fett doesn’t quite know how to feel about it. That he’s let you come so close to him that you feel safe, reassured he isn’t dangerous enough that you can be lulled asleep like this. These aren't clean hands you're holding.

But if you want to be here, you'll be here. He'd never refuse you.

He's no stranger to nightmares and terrors either, though he's had longer to learn to deal with them than you. His mind is more armored, less feeling. It's how he's learned to be.

Fett, not long after he sees that you've for sure fallen completely asleep, decides to stop watching you with such soft eyes; And get some rest himself. He doesn't get too many chances to do so.

When you wake up you can still feel the ache of a headache now passed, but your body doesn’t feel as tense as the night before. It requires a bit of an odd angle to raise your head, rubbing your eyes blurry as Boba's torso moves upward so he can look down on you.

“Going to let me go?” Fett watches your hands tighten even more against his arm, where it had been locked most of the night. You'd been gripping it like a lifeline, the only thing holding you to the ground.

“No.” Fett lets out a chuckle, one deep from his chest and still raspy with sleep. You can feel it in your own chest, as he raises up on his other elbow.

"Can't stay here forever, princess." His arm flexes in your hold, just about to pull away from you. Quickly you tighten, making a noise from your throat before you can get out the right words.

“Wait! Boba, just- Just a few more minutes?” His hand halts, but his eyes still bore down at you. The soft skin of your fingertips brushes against a myriad of scars, as you fruitlessly attempt to hold him still. He's placating you, as you know well he could easily just pull away and leave you alone.

"Mos Espa can wait a little bit," You say, holding onto his larger hand. He relents, and lays down on his side again; Pressing his bare chest against your back again.

Maybe it can, maybe it can't; But either way he can deal with the outcome.

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[written-with-blue-ink]

Hi, may I ask you about Ayato x reader who is strong and independent, but she/they like when their partner is protective about them? Be strong and independent is good, but sometimes I think that people right now forgot how comfortable it's feeling when you have person which you can trust and who will take care of you when you have bad day or you feel more fragile etc. I have this problem that I put on myself pressure that I need to be strong 24/7, no place to rest, cry etc, but deep inside I want have opportunity to feel more fragile sometimes. I hope you understand what I want to say. Have good day <3

I got you, i took it in a more literal sense but I think you might like this <3

My Savior

Ayato X Reader

There was something to say about the relationship between the Commissioner of the Kamisato Clan and his Personal Bodyguard. People knew the two were dating but most didn’t know how the two of them came to be except their close proximity. 

The Commisioner, as the most eligible bachelor is Inazuma, was a very indirect man. Born to a well-off family and in a position of power, Ayato was always quiet and silver-tongued when it came to his position.

(Y/N) on the other hand was born to a poorer family, but their expertise in all sorts of combat quickly had them climb up the ranks of the Shuumatsuban. Almost the opposite of their partner, they must’ve been the most straightforward person in Inazuma who was unafraid to speak their mind or get into a scrap over it. 

The two together though were a sight to behold. Ayato pleasantly watches as (Y/N)'s fights in tournaments or (Y/N) subtly shows her disdain for someone's idiotic idea and the two share a look. Silent communication as partners was ingrained into their relationship

The day started off like many others, Ayato and (Y/N) went to the far edge of Inazuma city to scope out the location for a festival in a few weeks. You could faintly see the outline of the old fox shrine off in the distance and the statues that dotted the landscape were perfect for the remembrance put on by the Grand Narukami Shrine and the Raiden Shogun.

(Y/N) played with the cryo vision that hung around their neck as Ayato inspected the land. Eyes glancing at where the stalls would go versus the game stands, neither noticed the shadows moving closer.

“Hey-Mph,” (Y/N) stated as someone grabbed their arms, restricting their movement and causing Ayato to turn around to see nobushi, at least eight of them walking up. Two of them held onto (Y/N)’s arms as they stood still, glancing at Ayato in surprise.

“Well well, Commissioner,” the leader, a kairagi in purple armour, stated coming out from behind his henchman with a deep, booming voice. “Now, I don’t want to hurt you or your little partner here. Just put your hands up and come with us. You’ll be fine till we get the mora for your return.”

Ayato’s attention was never on the kairagi, always on (Y/N) whose eyes met his with a sense of confidence and the slightest, almost imperceivable nod. Quickly and without a word, (Y/N) swung their legs up, contorting their body to knock out the nobushi on their left, a ray of frost seemed to coat the impact on his chest. 

Taking the opening, Ayato swiftly moved forward, summoning his blade and slashing the nobushi on (Y/N)’s right so they had full range of motion. 

Stumbling forward, (Y/N) caught their partner’s shoulder to catch themselves. Summoning their catalyst with their spare hand, a sweet smile appeared as they muttered, “Thank you.”

Ayato simply nodded, eyes glancing at them for a split second to meet admiration and love in their eyes. Shifting the attention back to the armed enemies, he watched as they pulled out their blades and got into position.

Raising his sword, Ayato analyzed his enemies for an opening…. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long.

“Okay, time to pay, assholes,” (Y/N) shouted, running up and decking one of the ronin’s noses and knocking the hat off her, covering it in ice and frost before throwing another punch and landing another blow right in her abdomen. 

Letting out a small chuckle, Ayato released his stress as he rushed forward, taking out two of the disgraced samurai in a single attack.

Both focusing on the battle, Ayato barely saw the kairagi lift his blade, preparing to strike his partner’s back without their knowledge. Instinct kicking in, he left the nobushi and put himself between the blade and his love.

The sound of metal on metal rang in (Y/N)’s ears. Before they could even turn, they heard Ayato’s voice mutter, “Mind the deluge, my love.”

Drops of hydro energy fell from the sky, landing in their hair, they understood the opportunity this made. Pivoting onto their right foot, (Y/N) went around Ayato’s left. They leapt, landing their foot in a small opening of the kairagi’s armor and the combination of the cryo and hydro froze the man in place.

(Y/N) continued to pummel the frozen man, breaking the ice before refreezing him after each strike. They only stopped when the body fell to the ground, ice shattering as the man lay there knocked out cold. 

Turning around, they saw their love over the rest of the nobushi who were also on the ground. Letting out a sigh of relief, they stumble forward and rest their forehead on his collarbone, wrapping their arms around their side. Taking a second to inhale the scent of clean linens and cypress, "Thanks for saving me.”

“Of course,” Ayato cooed, returning the gesture and kissing their hair softly, “I’m just glad you are safe.”

[nikethestatue]

So I've been thinking about this.

The Inner Circle, as we came to realise, isn't exactly perfect. It's a stagnant place for the 5 people that had occupied it for so long. It's a relationship of secret resentments, lies, half-truths, and mistrust, and while the Archeron sisters relationship is wrought with issues, compared to the IC, it's based on honesty. These women don't always like each other, also resent one another, are frequently annoyed and unhappy, but they don't hide. They don't hide their natures or their feelings.

Here is what's interesting: Rhys looks at the IC with these absurd, rose-coloured glasses. He doesn't want to 'interfere' with the Moriel x Cassian, situation, offering the pretense of him being uninvolved and simply an observer. He CHOOSES to not see things around him--chooses not to see Mor, chooses not to see Azriel, and generally expects Cassian to just go along with everything. The lies that they've been telling each other for centuries are so ingrained in them, that the moment someone new arrived--Feyre--Rhys immediately began feeding her the same crap he's been so keen on accepting as truth for so long. 'Azriel is madly in love with Mor' and 'Azriel's been hoping/waiting for the bond to snap' and 'Azriel's been pining for her non stop for 500 years'. And naturally, Feyre, seeing that all-important confirmation bias, begins to 'see' the same thing. She begins to trust and believe Rhys's opinions as if they are facts.

But these 'facts' don't coincide with realities. Feyre finds out that all of these people have had numerous lovers throughout the centuries. She finds the dynamic between Cassian and Mor and Azriel odd and begins to question Rhys about it. He, as always, tries to sweep it under the carpet and tells her not to interfere.

Yet, who is the first person who questions the bond between Lucien and Elain? Feyre. And what does she ask? She asks 'why not make them (Azriel and Elain) mates?" Because from her fresh, new perspective, which isn't coloured by deceit and BS, that's what she immediately notices, and feels innately--why aren't Elain and Azriel mated? It feels right to Feyre that they should be. On the flip side, what does Rhys do when he confronts Azriel? He immediately slides back into the familiar status quo of 'What of Mor?" It's almost like he can't fathom that something 'unsanctioned' by him should be taking place in his Inner Circle.

Nesta--another Archeron sister, who is keen on seeing things as they are, and telling things as they are--sees her sister with Azriel, and immediately notices that something charged passed between the two of them. She sees it at once, as soon as she observes them together, whereas her 500 year old mate is still unable to comprehend as to what might have caused these changes in Azriel. It's at Cassian's fingertips--and yet he still can't put two and two together.

Lastly, what does Azriel say about Elain? That she was 'well aware' of why he was avoiding her, and that she could always see through him. What those who were closest to him and who seemed to have known him the best couldn't understand or acknowledge about his behaviour, Elain just...knew.

The sisters coming into the IC is probably the best thing that could've happened to all those people. People hate Nesta for being rude to Rhys and not liking him, but it's because SHE can see him for what he is. Not this idealised version that Cassian and everyone else seems to believe, but the real him.

Same with Feyre, to whom Mor is finally able to come out. She couldn't do that with anyone for 500 years, but Feyre saw, and understood her.

Elain, the quiet, gentle Elain, is refusing to bow to the bond, and questions the expectation of male entitlement to her time and affections. When Rhys immediately falls back to 'well, Elain and Lucien are mates! We shouldn't be going against that, we shouldn't be starting wars or blood duels, and I forbid you (Azriel) from pursuing her' Elain is finally offering a new stance on the bond issue.

I love seeing these three girls shaking things up and opening some eyes and some wounds.

[reztoru]

    ───── Music of the Forest

彡 Satoru is on a journey of coming to terms with his feelings for you, and he's come to find that the music his soul yearns for dwells within you, wherever you may be. 

tw / cw : fluff and a tiny bit of angst? there's a happy ending ,, tobacco is briefly mentioned but not used for smoking lol, slight jjk 0 spoilers ,, i think that's all but lmk if i missed anything

pairing : gojo x reader 

gender neutral, no physical descriptions of reader

a/n : born out of my love of the forests and inspired by a stsg painting I did. im so happy with how this turned out.

kinda me coded with a tiny tiny sprinkle of my own culture, but I think I kept it vague enough for everyone to enjoy.🫶🏾

w/c : 3.1k

Satoru has a knack for being a pest, at the best and worst of times. He needs to nourish his brain with information, desperate to know what causes people to tick. And as he’s grown older, he’s found himself observing the crowds around him a lot more.

He takes note of the way their energy engulfs them with the different emotions they endure. He sees how their anger is jagged and rude, or how their happiness appears in serene waves. Annoyance comes in spikes and sadness drizzles down.

And today is just another day for Satoru. Sat in his office, playing with a pen, avoiding work. Choosing to observe silently at the surrounding people. Seeing as they moved room to room, it was rather dull.

He became intrigued when he saw you wandering into the spooky forests. Mostly because you're someone he’s never gotten the opportunity to know. Thus, he couldn’t help but follow along — anything to get out of this boring paperwork.

He makes the hasty decision to teleport himself right next to you. Which caused him to startle you, popping up out of thin air like the menace he is. You tried giving him a smack, but his infinity stopped you, foiling your plan. Instead, you opted for scolding him. Warning him that if he was going to come with you, he best keep his mouth shut.

It was hard for him to abide by the single rule. Satoru being the never quiet man, always with something to say, and now with so many questions swirling within him.

“So, you wanna tell me why we’re sitting in the middle of the forest?” He said.

You shot him a look and shook your head, “I come here to heal, to think, whatever I need.”

He nodded slowly, pondering on your words, “and the forest helps to do that how? You eat berries and feel better?”

Rolling your eyes, you pat the spot beside you, telling him to listen. And he did, though he hadn’t really understood at first. He’ll admit the wind was gentle, it was calm. You could hear the leaves moving and the wildlife scurrying about, but nothing felt healing about it — well, he certainly didn’t feel healed.

However before he could prod at you further, you reached over to pull something out of your bag. It was a small sack of brown flakes — tobacco, loosely wrapped in a red cloth, with little beads tucked into a design on the chunk of it. And he was left feeling even more confused, especially after you stood up to scatter some about.

“It’s an offering. I’m giving back what I’ve taken.” You said as you turned to face him. Almost as if you could read his mind.

Yes, you were a mysterious person to Satoru. Sitting in the middle of nowhere to heal your soul. Sprinkling brown flakes on the ground like you were seasoning the earth. It just made no sense to him, but you did seem content every time you emerged from the trees; looking more at ease.

And he couldn’t help but tag along with you whenever he could. Wanting to know what this was all about, what you were all about. He’d poke at you, bombarding you with questions on the occasions that you’d begrudgingly allow him to.

Slowly, you became a part of his routine, ingraining yourself in his already busy schedule. And these trips into the forest turned into getting lunch rather late in the day, or coffee a little too late at night. And your woodlands started to become too familiar to him.

It began with you asking him to come along and get a drink and then it was a picnic. After a while, these things were almost routine and if he wasn’t able to stay and chat; he made it a point to at least stand in line with you before he had to go.

During that time, he began to know you on a more human level, getting to understand how your gears turned. And during these fleeting moments he learned how you like your coffee, your favourite food and color. He also learned of the way you heal; the way you replenish your mind. It’s so vastly different from the way he literally refreshes his brain — it’s so mundane in comparison.

“I just don’t get it.” Satoru said, sipping his overly sweet drink.

You sat across from him, swirling your own beverage with a straw. Your leg bounced as your eyes met your own in the reflection of his imposter sunglasses.

“Well, maybe you haven’t found your music yet.”

“I have music,” he gasped, “like that one song by Avicii- “

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Your theme song,” you snickered, “this music is different, though. It heals your soul.”

You’d always tell him that his sound will find him, as it does with everyone. When the time is right, you’d say. He wasn’t able to wrap his head around your words, and he’d preach to you time and time again about how he didn’t get it. But you’d only ever roll your eyes and shake your head at him, “be patient.”

This was something that his eyes couldn’t give him answers to. Because even someone as godly as him was unable to fully comprehend it through sight alone. It wasn’t cursed energy, or some grand battle tactic. This was a reminder to him that there are boundaries and limits to what even the most powerful beings can understand. And this is something he had to experience on a deeper level, beyond the realm of vision.

When time rolls on, he starts to hear it. The sound of a distant melody. It was the brassy thrum of his heart when you’re near and the dewy pitch of your voice. And your rippling cackles that crashed through him. Though, it’s a little scary at first, this feeling isn’t new — and it’s certainly one he wasn’t hoping for a sequel of.

Because when Satoru falls, he falls hard. And it’s not a soft pillowy fall by any means. It’s in a way where he crashes and burns. His love scorches him and claws at his heart. Taunting him with what’s barely in his grasp — and that of which has long since left.

His feelings linger in his brain and dance deep within his core. They seem to flow through him in a more complex way, taking twists and turns that are difficult to predict. It’s all a little unnerving to him — you’re a little unnerving to him.

As he drifts away into his thoughts, he thinks to himself how you bring nothing but uncertainty. You’re a storm rippling its way through his steady breeze, bringing chaos in your pursuit. Though he supposes your rain is a kind of refreshing that his abilities can’t provide. And you leave behind a beautiful burst of colours when you go.

“You okay? You look kinda stupid with that lost look on your face.” You asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m a little busy right now.”

You give him a look, one that makes him feel a little too small. It feels a little too personal, and it’s a bit too knowing, as if you were the one who wielded the six eyes.

“Mhm right. When you’re done sulking, there’s this new bakery that I wanna check out.”

Admittedly, he feels a little giddy with the knowledge of you wanting to go out with him. Maybe his heart skips a beat right after the words leave your mouth, but he tries his hardest to brush it off and ignore it because this feeling doesn’t have a home in this wretched place of his.

It’s because he knows love is truly the most twisted curse of them all. It’s a swirl of every emotion under the sun and it can swallow you whole. One wrong move and everything could fall apart. There’s no manual for how to navigate through this sticky feeling, and there’s no right way to do it either. It’s as beautiful as it is cruel.

You add the fact that there’s a constant target on his back. People want him dead, curses do too. Logically, he knows that having you is selfish, it puts you at risk. Because allowing himself the pleasure of loving you is a losing game. And for that reason, he chose not to play; to be somebody who only watches as the show unfolds.

Thus, he tries to keep his distance, never letting his sickly emotions take the reins. But it seems the harder he tries to pull away, your soul holds him a little tighter; enticing him back in.

“Look, ‘toru!” You point to a group of funny looking mushrooms, with eyes shining so brightly they could put the sun to shame.

Your smile reaches out to grasp at his heart, holding it tightly, not wanting to let go. That’s when he swears the world stops; or something cheesy like that. The pieces of his heart crash around in his chest and he forgets how to breathe — how to move, how to function.

He sputters out, “Can we eat them?”

“Yes, or we could pick them and sell em for a fortune.” You let out a mischievous chuckle, “I’m only giving you a percent of the profits though, you already have too much money.”

He doesn’t know why he asks what kind of mushrooms they are, because he already knows. In fact, most of the things he listens to you ramble about he’s already quite knowledgeable on. But he gets to listen to your damn voice, and your attention isn’t on anybody but him as you explain these little interests of yours.

And he thrives in your rays of light. He almost seems to forget what emotion this is and what it entails. But maybe, he thinks, just for a moment, he can be Satoru, the annoying guy who gets under your skin, rather than Satoru Gojo, the strongest with the all-seeing eyes.

And it’s not until some faculty meeting that he realizes he’s down bad. Every time he tries to listen to what Yaga is saying, his orbs wander to you. He wonders if you’d want to get dessert later, or if you’ll invite him on a little picnic again.

It seems Satoru just gets lost in you. It’s become so blatantly obvious to everyone around him. Shoko nags at him and tells him to just go for it. Saying things like, “You’ll regret it more if you don’t.” And he hates that she’s probably right, he hates that he has these stupid feelings even more.

“You’re acting like an angsty teen.”

He huffs, crossing his arms, “am not. I just don’t have time for that relationship stuff.”

Shoko pauses what she's doing, placing a hand on the table in front of her as she turns to look at Satoru with a deadpan expression, “but you have time for dates.”

“They’re not dates.” He mumbles.

He wants to argue. He really does, but he knows he can’t. He especially knows because he’s stumbled down into Shoko’s grim abode more than enough times, asking her what the hell should I wear.

And maybe these feelings get a little too real when he finds himself focusing on you, when he should really be paying attention to his students. Observing in a daze as you walk across the field. Your arm shoots up to give him a wave, or maybe it was a wave to everyone, but he likes to think it was reserved for him.

Or maybe it’s when he’s making a cup of coffee, and you brush against him. And he just pauses what he’s doing because he finds you so captivating. He can’t help the way his hands yearn to trace every curve. To sculpt you into the space of his mind, and create a masterpiece that is you.

But whenever you’re near, his body is always left feeling a little confused as this calm and unease both settle as lovers within him. The unrest that stems from the lack of control, that unpredictability leaves him nervous. And he knows vulnerability comes with weakness, and to be weak is to be slashed down.

When he stumbles back into his office, he realizes he forgot cream and sugar. And it’s the little things like this that make his thoughts race. His brain wants him to run far away from you. It’s telling him to leave you behind before this can go any further. He tugs at his hair, clawing at his scalp. His eyes scan for something they can’t see. He desperately scours his mind to figure out what to do.

Knock knock

And his head shoots up. He feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. That is, until he realizes it’s you, and then things feel a little okay. Almost as if you bring along the unspoken words he’s searching for. You don’t pry, and you don’t ask questions he doesn’t wanna answer.

Maybe that’s why he’s grown to feel this way for you. You don’t push too hard, and when you do, it’s always at the right times. Oh, and you’re always sure to bring him some proper food when you pop in to say hi. You do all these things and expect nothing in return.

You dig deeper than the flimsy mask he wears and you’re patient with these circles he finds himself running in. You don’t chase him, instead you stroll behind, cherishing the journey that you’ve found yourself on. In the end, he feels human with you.

“Did you eat something today? You look ghostly.” You giggle, holding up a bag, “I brought lunch, let’s eat.”

And it’s now, he thinks, it starts to fall into place, when he feels it the most. It’s almost as if when you’re around, a sense of peace washes over him, a feeling of calm that he can’t find anywhere else. It gives his soul a phantom sensation of being so tenderly held; of loving arms around him. It’s not just a physical sensation, but something deeper, something that touches his core.

It’s like he can feel his essence expanding, reaching out towards something unknown, as if they were two halves of the same whole. It’s a feeling of completeness, of being exactly where he’s meant to be. And when he breathes, it’s as if he’s inhaling remnants of himself; or rather, somebody foreign, yet so very familiar to him. 

And it’s days like today where he craves this sound the most. Days where the world feels a little empty and dull. No amount of reverse techniques can mend the passing of a friend you once cherished so much. He doesn’t wanna listen to the talk of the surrounding people. He doesn’t want to boil in anger and sadness. And he especially doesn’t want to be left alone thinking about all the what ifs.

Like clockwork, you poke your head into this wintery office of his. You take a seat and push a bottle of water towards him, followed by a little sandwich that you probably made at home. You don’t say anything, allowing him to wither in the noise you bring. And little by little he nibbles quietly on the food you offer, sipping the water as he goes.

Your eyes find his when you break the silence, “Seriously, Satoru, are you okay?”

“Always.” He gave you a toothy grin, but his facade has grown to become useless against you.

In return, you give him a soft smile; a knowing one, “Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

Off you go again, into those trees to listen for something he can’t seem to find. His heart yearns for this sound that you speak of. It’s dire for him to know. He craves the calm you have and the peace you carry. And he wonders if you’ll ever give him a taste of it.

He lets himself linger in the essence you’ve left behind. Pondering on the events that have taken place over the months. You’ve so diligently taken care of everyone affected by the tragedy, and yet you still find the time to come to him and comfort him in a way he doesn’t know he needs.

Satoru sighs loudly, running a hand through his snowy hair. He asks himself if he could handle your death, if he could let you go. He also wonders if he’s looking too deep into this.

His heart reaches out to find your remnants, begging for your peace. It pleads for your calm and yearns for your ease. And this is when he almost subconsciously gets up to follow you along into your pillowy green song. His legs started to move before his mind could protest. It feels natural; it feels normal. Your vibrations linger on the path he follows and his roots guide him to his haven.

It’s in these woods Satoru has found his heart lies with you. It dances with you as you pull him in to move along to the sounds of your music. His heart sings a little out of tune with you in the mornings and it sways along to your memory. And as he delves deeper into these trees, the sound is clear to him more than ever.

He can hear the echoing hums that follow the wind, guiding it into the ears that are willing to listen. The leaves that dance and sing, and the life within them that stomps their feet. The wild flowers that do their best to keep up, giving to the little bees that decide to follow. And he sees how the sun shines brightly down on the whispers of the world, carrying its warmth to those who may need it.

This is where peace is found. And this is where the heart goes to heal, taking the sacred medicine and using it to prepare the soul for its next battle — whatever it may be. And this is exactly what Satoru needs; a cleanse of his broken heart. Far away from the bustling city life. It’s a place where time stands still and chooses to tenderly embrace the wandering spirits that pay it a visit.

Deep within is where he finds you, basking quietly in the light rays. Allowing your body to nourish itself with what’s offered to you. And during these scarce moments, Satoru has come to find that the music of the forest dwells within you, wherever you may be.

[katzenprinz]

Who is most likely to sleep in/over sleep?(okay this turned into more than that, so sorry and bear with me) ngl I don't think it would be Jason unless prompted(*cough* cuddling with Salim *cough*) but Salim definitely seems like a late morning person. However, I can imagine Mosson or Palmer getting real comfortable and missing their alarms. I feel like Rana and Rachel are very punctual early risers, and I think Elliott and Nick are also more natural early risers as well. Eric and Jason seem like they'd get up early as well simply though years of training. Also Jones. And Kim. She takes her job very seriously.

Salim. Salim Salim Salim. He enjoys his sleep. If Jason didn’t make him get up he would happily stay asleep until he naturally woke up. However, after being a soldier for so many years, he is used to hopping awake at a moment’s notice. On the other hand, this also means he can fall asleep pretty much anywhere. (Like when he fell asleep at the mess table recently in the fic.)

As we see in fic, Jason isn’t a morning person himself. However, he’s learned to function just enough he didn’t get disciplined for oversleeping. He doesn’t actually wake up for a good half hour after. If they were not on military time, he’d happily spend mornings sleeping in with Salim.

Both of then are hardcore cuddlers. Their coffee in the morning is also very much needed. On days they don’t have morning duties or have the day off, like on Christmas, Jason starts to automatically wake up at 5am but Salim bearhugs him, murmurs, “we are off” and Jason goes “oh” before instantly conking out again.

Rachel and Eric both have it ingrained in them too deeply to wake up early that they can’t sleep in past 7 or 8 am, but are usually awake at 6. They use the time to work out, have breakfast, and then jump right into work. Or if they have leisure time, they read or chat together. Eric suffers from insomnia pretty frequently and Rachel has to force him to put down his work and come to bed. “Even if you don’t sleep, you have to rest, so get your ass over here.”

Nick is similar, but can manage to sleep until 10am if he isn’t bothered and had a hard day beforehand. He has a tendency to wake up in the middle of the night for an hour or so, usually getting up to stretch or have a snack. Likes to cuddle until he falls asleep and would definitely fall asleep with Rachel (and eventually Eric) snuggled in his arms.

Elliott is a puntual person and usually wakes up early, but it’s because he sets three alarms. He has a cup of tea every morning to perk himself up.

Palmer sleeps like the dead. He’s given the other goslings permission to tip him off of his cot if they aren’t able to shake him awake. If allowed, he’d probably sleep in until 10am at least, but sometimes he’s been known to sleep the whole morning away.

Mosson is, on the flip side, a pretty light sleeper. Odd sounds wake him up in seconds. The sort who could not ever sleep with a light or a tv on. He has fairly regular nightmares, but when he wakes up from them he pretends they never happened.

Jones is military through and through. That’s what happens when you come from a military family. He has always woken up around 5-6:30am, ready to jump into the day.

Rana is in her late 50s. She is up before the sun, normally, but she is also used to changing her sleep schedule to fit whatever the conditions are at a dig site. She tends to go to bed early-ish, between 7-8pm.

Sun-Hi is a doctor. She barely sleeps. She is used to having to cut her sleep short due to someone getting injured. She grabs sleep in short bursts.

(It is 11pm right now and I kept almost falling asleep while writing this. 😅 )

[xueyuverse]

Now I Want You: A HuaLian fanfic, chapter two

Trigger warnings

This is an +18 fanfic, so it may and/or will contain themes such as suicide, physical and psychological abuse, violence and cruelty, explicit sex, complex or highly impactful sexual situations, and rape. Be careful when reading, do not force yourself and protect yourself.

Contains age gap, Xie Lian is 20 years older than Hua Cheng here.

────୨ৎ────

Having San Lang around was a great thing. As the intelligent young man that he was, San Lang could talk about anything and everything and even express his emotions emotionally. Because of this, Xie Lian, curious and expectant, asked him his opinion on the heir of the extinct Xie noble house… himself, that is.

After a moment of silence in which San Lang seemed to contemplate this question very seriously, as if he was worried about what words to use, which was unprecedented, he finally answered: “Xie Lian seemed to be a noble, selfless and kind person, who didn’t deserve the fate he had.”

Xie Lian fell silent, feeling disappointed.

Disappointed?, he thought. But why?

San Lang's answer was quite good for someone like Xie Lian, but the young man had such deep and elaborate opinions on everything that it ended up being a bit disappointing to only have one sentence about him. Despite this, Xie Lian still felt warm from being under San Lang’s good eyes. It was somewhat contradictory, as if his expectations had not exactly been met, but not frustrated either.

And wasn’t that his reality now? Xie Lian had become a footnote in his ex-husband’s articles; it made sense to be reduced to a one-line sentence.

Not that he was upset with San Lang, of course.

The silence that followed was calm, somewhat awkward because the two clearly had more to say, but they opted for stillness, and it wasn't exactly uncomfortable, anyway. 

It didn’t last long anyway, because Xie Lian soon had to go to work. The two of them said goodbye at the door of their house, but they still stood there in silence just looking at each other. Xie Lian couldn't tell what San Lang was feeling, or didn't want to risk guessing, but he knew that what he was feeling was that pain of knowing that they might never see each other again.

“I’ll be staying at a hotel for the next few days,” San Lang said, breaking the silence and lighting a spark in Xie Lian’s heart. “I’d like to meet gege again later. Meet me at the teahouse after your shift ends.”

Xie Lian smiled, letting out a sigh of relief and excitement. He nodded in agreement.

“Of course! I’m already looking forward to it.” Such an excited response, as if he was needy, made embarrassment spread through his body and his cheeks heat up. From his situation, it seemed like Xie Lian was a 15-year-old teenager, and he didn't know what to feel about it.

The smile that San Lang gave was radiant, showing all of his beautiful, small, white teeth, two of which were slightly longer and sharper than the rest, like fangs. Xie Lian stared at them for an embarrassingly long time before bidding farewell and hurriedly leaving, almost hoping that the wind would blow his shamelessness away.

His workday this time was lively thanks to Shi Qing Xuan, who always had a lot to talk about and catch up on. Xie Lian could barely keep up with her, so most of the time he just listened to what she had to say, making comments every now and then. She didn't seem to mind or lose her spirit, sometimes even getting more excited.

As he listened to her speak, Xie Lian couldn't help but think of the lives they both had been destroyed by other people, and yet the difference between them was stark. Shi Qing Xuan still looked so lively and optimistic, as if she was at least trying to be happy, while Xie Lian always had a weight on his shoulders and pain all over his body because his defeated lifestyle was ingrained into his bones.

Of course, his daughter was his greatest joy and always would be, she was the reason Xie Lian was still functional to this day, although, the amount of times he had thought about seeing her being killed in some brutal way, with limbs and blood scattered across the floor, and him being the one to cause it, was enough to make him feel disgusted with himself and believe that there was something very wrong with him. What father thinks of killing his own daughter as if it were something normal? What does that say about him? What is he, if not a father who perhaps hates his own daughter so much that there is some part of him that wants her dead?

Don't cry, don't you dare cry, Jun Wu said. You keep doing this, playing the victim. Poor Xie Lian, have you no shame?

A shock spreads through his body, burning his flesh and making his skin twist. He closed his eyes and felt something run down his face, he wiped it away thinking it was sweat. Xie Lian felt like he had fallen into the open sea, because he couldn't breathe or return to the surface, all he could do was struggle and scream in a futile attempt to get out of this situation.

It was like drowning. It was like falling into a sea of lava. It was like being thrown into a hollow, endless void, with no air, no gravity, no way out.

Something landed on his shoulder, rubbing his back. There was someone next to him, sitting next to him, touching him as if he weren’t something disgusting.

Slowly, Xie Lian regained control of his breathing, first in a disorderly fashion, even choking a few times; then taking large gulps of air, alternating between deep breaths and more desperately rapid ones. His body was covered in cold sweat, his face was ice cold, it felt like his blood pressure had plummeted.

He saw a hand stop in front of him, holding a bottle of water. Shi Qing Xuan, he saw, sitting beside him, looking at him with suppressed worry. It seemed like she was holding back from shouting out the zillions of questions that were jumping out of her eyes. Xie Lian accepted the water, remaining silent.

As he drank the water, Xie Lian cried. If only the thoughts of death were about him alone… but no, his mind had to create countless horrible scenarios about other people’s deaths. Many times he would just be resting next to a colleague when, upon seeing a car pass by, he would ask himself: what if that car ran over us now?; then he would get up abruptly, without further ado, and leave without looking back, feeling his face burn with guilt.

Xie Lian wanted to go into the hospital, so he could keep his little Ban Yue safe from himself.

“Don’t worry, Lao-Xie[1],” Shi Qing Xuan said after a few minutes of silence, “everything will be fine. It’s my catchphrase, like ‘keep swimming’ and all that.”

Xie Lian laughed and handed the water back to her, “I prefer ‘By the Blessing of the Heavenly Official, No Path Are Bound.”

“That’s great! But I still prefer the ‘keep swimming’ saying, it’s personal.”

Xie Lian smiled. He didn’t understand his preference for such a saying; it wasn’t like he still practiced his religion, although he hadn’t abandoned his beliefs either. Besides, all paths have been tied for him for two decades now, even more than that.

But this was him, someone who wants to at least think that there is some clear path, even if it is an overflowing lava path. His body was in the abyss and his heart was about to fall out of the small corner left for him in paradise, desperately trying to stay.

***

As promised, at the end of his shift, Xie Lian soon found himself at the door of the teahouse. During the entire journey, he considered going straight home, because San Lang certainly wouldn't be there. After all, even though they had spent a good time together and the young man was such a good person, that didn't mean that he would be in such good eyes of the latter that they could meet again.

However, Xie Lian still went, because even if San Lang wasn't there, he could still have some good tea and relax to go home cool-headed and calm, and watch some movies with Ban Yue, like he owed for a while.

When Xie Lian entered the store and saw San Lang sitting at the same table as the day before, fiddling with his phone with a stressed crease between his eyebrows, he couldn't help but sigh and laugh with relief. As he walked excitedly to the table, San Lang quickly noticed his presence; he smiled, his eyes became half moons, and that crease disappeared. Xie Lian's entire body heated up and he had to restrain himself from rushing over and grabbing the young man in a tight, lingering hug.

Xie Lian definitely didn't know what it was about this guy that made him feel so good and relaxed — and needy — but he couldn't let his emotions override his rationality. Still, his steps quickened a little, the expectation of having a good conversation after yet another tiring and difficult day got the best of him.

“Gege! You’re right on time!” San Lang turned off his phone and put it in his bag. “I made a special request for us, something I’ve wanted to try ever since I found out what it was.”

Xie Lian smiled, “Hmm, what is it? Oh, and tell me the price too, so I can…”

“Nothing like that.” San Lang waved his hand, interrupting him. “It’s on me. Consider it a gift for having me stay at your house.”

Xie Lian felt his face heat up, both from the shy embarrassment of receiving a gift and the shame of being the reason for someone's money being spent.

“But, I don't want it to be heavy for you…” he tried to insist, but San Lang shook his head.

“Money is no problem for me,” he said. “Like I said, it’s a gift, it’s rude to refuse, gege.”

“But…”

“Gege doesn’t like me giving him presents?” The young man’s mouth twisted into a pout; his eyes seemed to grow bigger and brighter as well. “Gege hates my presents.”

“No! San Lang ah!”

But the youth’s head and shoulders had drooped sadly, and Xie Lian couldn’t help but laugh at this drama.

“Now gege laughs at me…” he muttered unhappily.

“No… haha… San Lang, it’s okay, you’re too much.”

San Lang was excited, “So gege finally accepts my gift?”

Xie Lian laughed again, “Yes.”

“Great, I was looking at other things that go really well with gege, in a few days you will receive a package in a gift package at your home. And I want to see gege wearing it. I talked to Ban Yue about what you like to wear and I came to the conclusion that what I bought will look really cute on you, maybe I can't even stand that image.” San Lang sighs dreamily, smiling childishly and resting his chin on his hand. Xie Lian stuttered incoherently, not knowing what to say.

Finally, Xie Lian decides that it would be best to change the subject, with some hope that this new gift would just be a joke, or else he didn't know if he could handle it. He asked, “Does San Lang have any of his works to show me?”

San Lang smiled broadly, “Coincidentally, I made something especially for you.” Xie Lian sighed. So the topic of gifts wasn’t over, he thought.

Inside his bag, the young man takes out a brown paper envelope and hands it to Xie Lian, who, upon opening it, his mouth immediately opens into a perfect O.

It was an oil painting on paper of him, only he was wearing the ceremonial clothes of the festival he had starred in a lifetime ago: The Martial Warrior Who Pleases the Gods.

The Xie house was noble, but not royal. However, the newly appointed kings did not have any sons old enough to star in the festival, so Xie Lian was chosen for the role because of his martial arts skills and age. And his performance was memorable enough to become a tale that is still told today by storytellers and families with young children, even if the ending is not happy.

Xie Lian’s face in this painting was 29 years younger, happier, more confident and naive. In his hand was a beautiful, long sword stretched out close to his neck, in a sacrificial stance. He laughed.

“Why pretend to believe in my fake identity?” He asked, looking back at the boy.

San Lang shrugged, “You chose to introduce yourself as Fang Xin for some reason. But also, why would Gege ask me about himself?” He smiled mischievously, “Gege wasn't really trying hard, was he?”

This only made Xie Lian laugh harder, “San Lang got me. You’re right, I’ve never been very good at lying.” 

The young man’s smile softened, “Did Gege like my gift then?”

“Very much,” he smiled. “I just don’t have a good place to keep it, I don’t even know if I should hang it somewhere. Wouldn’t that be to much…? Maybe not, your painting is too beautiful. So talented!”

San Lang waved his hand, slumping back in his chair in a relaxed posture, and said, “Bullshit. Gege can do whatever he wants with this. Tear it up; burn it; throw it away; lock it in a drawer until it's dusty and forgotten; whatever you want, as long as you keep it.”

Xie Lian’s eyes widened more and more at San Lang’s every destructive suggestion, horrified, “San Lang! Don’t talk like that. It's so beautiful, why would I destroy it? Does San Lang really like me? It's like he wants to see me destroyed,” he finished his speech with a pout.

San Lang’s eyes widened as much as Xie Lian’s had widened his. “No! My gods. I just thought that since it was something I did, then it's okay. Forgive this one, gege, for dishonoring you.”

The man in question is silent for a moment, blinking his eyes, before bursting out laughing, “San Lang! Dishonor me? It's not like I could be desecrated if this painting was destroyed. Don't think so either!”

The young man was blushing, but he still had that beautiful, childish fox smile back.

“But gege! It's sacred! It would be sacrilege to destroy your image.”

“San Lang! No!”

“Gege! Yes!”

“No.”

“Gegeeee,” he whimpered. Xie Lian laughed harder and shook his head.

At this time, San Lang’s order arrived. Several plates of various types of sweets and glasses of juice were placed on the table. Xie Lian looked at it all in disbelief.

San Lang smiled: “Here,” he picked up a spoon, took a piece of one of the sweets and handed it to him, “Try it and tell me what you think.”

Xie Lian put the painting back into the envelope, picked up the spoon, and ate the sweet treat. A rich flavor of chocolate with vanilla, hazelnut, and lemon exploded in his mouth, causing him to let out a small groan of satisfaction.

“So good!” He said, taking the plate with this sweet and eating more. It was made with cream, syrup and biscuits, with grated lemon peel.

San Lang smiled, taking a sip of reddish juice, probably watermelon or strawberry. Xie Lian picked up his own glass of orange juice, discovering that it was papaya with something sweeter. Honey.

Finally, he asked how long San Lang planned to stay in the city. With a shrug, his answer was, “Undetermined.”

“Are you on vacation?”

“No.”

“And what about your work?”

“I can do it whenever I want.”

Xie Lian raised an eyebrow. But if he was a civil servant and wasn’t on vacation, then he definitely had orders with deadlines. 

“Nowhere to go back to? Isn’t anyone missing you?”

“No, it’s just me. Why?” San Lang arches his eyebrow with a sly smile on his face, “Is Gege tired of me already?”

“No! No. Actually, I was wondering how many more times I could meet you. I think I'm very lucky, from your answers I have plenty of time.”

“Hmm, true. Gege will have me all to himself for a loooong time. Is there something you'd like to show me here? Or better yet! Gege, would you mind if I made dinner at your place again? Also, Ban Yue told me that you owed her a movie night and used me as a substitute yesterday. We can surprise her.”

Xie Lian became excited.

They planned how to surprise Ban Yue. It would have to be the next day, on Xie Lian's day off, so he could take her somewhere while San Lang made preparations for movie night and dinner. But once he realized who had gotten the biggest share, Xie Lian felt guilty and wanted to take some other share. San Lang refused.

“There’s no way gege can be in two places at once,” he joked. Xie Lian felt embarrassed for giving the young man all this work, but he was also very grateful and touched that not only had he volunteered, but he had also come up with the idea.

When he picked up his cell phone after finishing eating to send a message to Ban Yue saying he would be home soon, he saw one from her about having received an invitation to dinner at a school friend's house that night and accepted, the girl's mother would pick her up and take her back home, so there was no need to worry about her. Xie Lian sighed and replied, “Okay, take care and be sensible. Call me if anything happens, my phone is already on full volume.” Ban Yue’s response was just a thumbs up with a smiley face, which made Xie Lian smile.

“What’s wrong?” San Lang asked, making Xie Lian turn his attention to him.

“Nothing major, just Ban Yue going to a friend’s house for dinner.”

“Well, at least I still have gege to keep me company at dinner.”

This made Xie Lian feel excited again, so the smile he gave in response was wide.

***

They arrived home when Ban Yue had already left.

San Lang started preparing dinner while Xie Lian was in the shower.

Wearing only a pair of pants after his shower, Xie Lian injects his biweekly dose of testosterone into the syringe and injects it into the intramuscular region. When he first started hormone therapy in his youth, Xie Lian was somehow terrified of needles and would always ask his personal servant, Mu Qing, who had knowledge about nursing thanks to his then-current undergraduate degree, to apply for him. Mu Qing, even though he always snorted and rolled his eyes at Xie Lian's fear, was always extremely patient and careful, his touch was so light that he ended up never feeling even the needle, even though he was terrified every time.

However, there came a time when Xie Lian needed to learn how to apply his injection on his own. After all, no matter how blind he was at the time, he never trusted Jun Wu to the point of allowing him to stick a needle in him. Who could guarantee that that man wouldn't hurt him on purpose, if he didn't do something worse?

After the hormone was applied, Xie Lian discarded the syringe and needle, put on a blouse, gathered all his long hair into a bun and left the bathroom feeling refreshed, even though his body was sore all over.

He found San Lang stirring something that smelled like a delicious mix of spices, pepper, and chicken in the pot and humming some song in a foreign language, and from the tone of the melody it sounded like a lullaby.

“What song is that?” He asked as he sat down at the counter.

San Lang looked at him over his shoulder and smiled. “Gege, you look really cute with that hairstyle.” Xie Lian blushed.

San Lang looked back at the pots on the stove. “A lullaby from my mother’s people, which she sang to me when I was a baby.”

“Oh. Where was she from?”

“Xijiang Qianhu, Guizhou Province.”

“Has San Lang been there?”

“Hm-hum. I go there periodically to see my grandparents. I met them a few years ago and have kept in touch ever since.”

“What is it like there?”

“Peaceful. Would Gege like to go there someday?”

Xie Lian smiled, “Why not? Would San Lang take me?”

“Whenever you want, just say so.”

“Can I meet your grandparents?”

“If it’s gege’s wish, then yes.”

“It is my wish!” Xie Lian laughed. 

“What about your mother?” San Lang shook his head, turning around and holding out the wooden spoon so Xie Lian could taste the broth. “She died when I was still a toddler.”

Xie Lian swallowed hard.

“Oh, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

San Lang shook his head again, smiling softly. He said, “It’s okay, it’s been a long time. How does it taste?”

Xie Lian licked his lips, ignoring the heat on his face caused by San Lang, making him taste the broth from his hand, “Delicious.”

“Good. Gege, I have a question.”

“Ask.”

“This is the second time I’ve cooked for gege, when will it be gege’s turn to cook for me? I want to try it,” he pouted.

Xie Lian felt like his heart would explode from the boy’s pouting.

“...San Lang ah.”

“Gege ah.”

He whined, “San Lang, as much as I love cooking, only I can eat my food without ending up in the hospital. Seriously.”

San Lang smiled.

“Maybe other people aren’t as strong as Gege then.”

“San Lang!”

“Gege!”

Xie Lian sighed, “Do you really want to try my food?”

“Yes!” San Lang nodded forcefully, causing Xie Lian to laugh.

“Then make room for me, you’ll get your chance today.”

San Lang lets out a victorious exclamation, as if he had just won the lottery, which only makes Xie Lian laugh harder.

His cooking begins when the young man's pans of food are cooking on the fire, with little time left before it is ready. The smell of his cooking wafted through the air, making Xie Lian’s mouth water, meanwhile, just as he put his own food to cook, another strange and strong smell burst forth like an explosion, canceling out the first.

It was supposed to be just a simple vegetable soup, but Xie Lian mixed in several seasonings without even knowing what the result would be, and the vegetables had burnt and the broth had turned purple.

He ran to put out the fire when he smelled it, having been distracted by talking to San Lang, who had already put out the fires in his own pots a long time ago. Xie Lian stirred and scooped up some of the soup with the ladle to taste. At first, there was only a slight salty taste, however, a few seconds later, his mouth felt as if it had been hit by an explosion of salt and pepper, heating up his mouth and causing a burning sensation to the point that his eyes were watering.

Despite the excess of pepper and salt, it wasn’t so bad that it couldn’t be eaten!

“It’s ready!” He said excitedly.

“Then let’s eat,” San Lang smiled.

Xie Lian prepared a plate of San Lang's food and a pot of his soup, while the young man opted only for the other man's food.

As they sat at the table, Xie Lian anxiously did not touch his own food as he watched San Lang prepare a spoonful of the extra spicy vegetable soup, blow on it to cool it down and drive away the smoke, and then put it into his mouth in one go. A few seconds later, the young man was already preparing another spoonful, unwavering and relaxed, as if it was a normal meal, making Xie Lian feel more anxious.

Xie Lian blinked, “San Lang?”

San Lang looked at him, “Yes?”

“So?” he pointed at the soup.

“Oh. I think Gege underestimates his own talents. As long as he adds less pepper and salt and cooks it for a shorter time, the soup will be just right next time.” 

Xie Lian’s eyes lit up and he said with a smile, “Okay! I’ll follow San Lang’s advice next time. I’m glad!”

San Lang smiled, and his eyes also shone, but with a different light.

As he tasted the young man’s cooking, Xie Lian groaned at how good it was. There was ginger, a faint taste of lemon, and spicy seasoning in the tender meat, delicious and unique, nothing like the strange cuisine he made.

“San Lang, it’s so good!” His words made the young man, who was watching him eat, laugh. “So talented!”

The light in San Lang’s eyes grew brighter, “Hm, one day gege will discover that this San Lang is very good at many things.”

                         ────୨ৎ────

Footnotes

[1] 老 [lao]. Here it means "Old-Xie".

The author has something to say:

Any food mentioned here was taken from my head. I'm not much of a cook, so I don't know many dishes other than the most common ones in Brazil hahaha

Chapter one — Chapter three

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[val-writesstuff]

Not Going Back

Summary: Your past seems to catch up to you but it's not who you expected to see

Wc: 1k+

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Taglist Form

Bucky paced the hallway outside of Steve’s office as he waited. He knew he shouldn't have kept what he knew a secret, knew Steve had a right to know the truth. He just hadn't found a good time to bring it up; it's not exactly breakfast conversation.

When he heard Steve hang up his call in his office, he walked in, dropping the file he had put together on the desk with a thump.

Steve raised his eyebrows as he pulled the folder closer, flipping it open to a grainy black-and-white side-view shot of a woman. A voice in Steve's head said he knew her, but he couldn't place her. “What am I looking at here, Buck? Is this some Hydra scientist we need to take care of?”

Bucky sighed and paced for another moment before lowering himself into the chair opposite Steve’s desk. “We worked closely together when I was the winter soldier. She got out a few months after I did. When I got back, I started looking for her.”

“I’m glad you want me to help you, but who is she? Why is she so important that you've been looking for her since you returned? That’s a long time to look for one person, Buck.”

Bucky didn't get nervous often, but this might be the hardest thing he had done in a while. He steeled his nerves and took a deep breath before answering. “It’s your sister Steve. She's out there."

==========

*three months later*

I chew my lip nervously as I glance over my shoulder. There's no reason for anybody here to follow me, but I can't shake the feeling I'm being watched. I duck down an empty side street and lean against the brick wall of a nearby building. I reach into the pocket of my leather jacket and thumb at the switchblade.

With what I do for a living, it was stupid to think I could stay in one place for so long. I should've left months ago, but the people were so friendly I could almost pretend I wasn't in hiding, running from a past I could barely remember.

After a while, with nothing suspicious happening, I decide it’s safe enough to head back to the apartment I had just started calling “home.” Guess that was a mistake.

I rush into my apartment and start shoving things into my bags. One bag for clothes, one for weapons, kept it easy to pack. There were certain things ingrained in my head; one of them was ‘don't own things that you can not replace’  Sure, I could leave with nothing and be fine, but it was a pain in the ass, and I liked my stuff.

I leave and head off toward where I know I can steal a helicopter. I take side streets and back alleys, trying to hurry when I get that feeling again. That itch in the back of my brain tells me somebody is watching me, but when I look over my shoulder, there’s still nobody there.

Another twenty minutes of walking pass, and I can see the airport when I hear a crunch behind me. I spin around and see a blond man staring at me. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can't place him.

Grabbing a weapon from my bag would take too long, so I'm left with only my switchblade and ability. He doesn't look like he wants to fight me, so my best bet is to run.

I turn and take off at a sprint. No regular person can keep up with me, so I should be in the clear. I'm only a few feet away from my escape when something heavy slams into my side and grabs onto me.

I look to see what it is and see a face I could never forget; he haunts my dreams. They sent my own damn partner after me. I recognize the expression on his face; it's the same one he makes on missions just before the end. Angry, determined.

With a grunt, I raise my knee and kick his chest as hard as possible. I know I'll never be able to beat him, mainly because there's this tiny voice in the back of my mind screaming not to hurt him.

"I'm not going back!" I scramble away from him and leap to my feet. I snatch the switchblade from my pocket and flip it open. My other hand flexes, and I prepare to use the ability I had spent months shoving down.  "I'd die before I ever go back with you!" I spit out and glance between them. The blond still looks hesitant about this, so he should be easy to deal with. The soldier is challenging, but I can get out of here if I can just get past him.

I run towards him, and just before he reaches out to grab me, I hit the ground and slide between his open legs. Yet again, I run for my salvation, not pausing for my dropped bags.

Stupidly I think I'm in the clear when the other one grips my wrist and yanks me towards him. He wraps his arms around me tightly; my arms are trapped at my sides, and I try to slash out with my knife.

The soldier huffs as he snatches it away from me, closes it, and shoves it into his pocket.

"I'm not going back with you!" I jerk my head back and slam it into the chin of Mr. Hesitant. Winter immediately grabs me and tosses me like a sack of potatoes. I land with a grunt. I try to strike out at him, but he grabs my wrists in one hand, pinning them to the ground above my head.

"Doll, I didn't wanna hurt you, but you're not making this easy." his other hand is pinning my hips to the ground, and he's sitting on my legs, so I can't kick him off me. I look around, trying to find the other guy, when the unmistakable feeling of a needle pierces my neck. Found him.

“Fuck you!” I do my best to thrash and fight even as black spots begin to invade my vision.

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Tags: @charmedbysarge @cjand10

[2af-afterdark]

Ok. I wrote a 2hole thing in here before with each of the angels specifically and my thoughts but it got deleted so I'll just ask for a request

DomGod!Mc spanking Gabriel?

NooOOoOooooOo. I would have loved to read that. Curse you Tumblr! Let the Anons speak!

But... Gabriel spanking... there are so many ways to go with that. A lot of the God!MC au was made before we really had a good idea of what the characters were like, so sometimes I adjust things to fit more with what I see in game. I like my version of Gabriel though, so I'm gonna made the two together here and see how it works when he's completely and utterly selfish about getting MC's attention but also acknowledges that MC is their own person.

Heaven is boring. The entire place was made to revolve around God, so little was added that would distract from being able to revere them. MC is the new God and they can see why the old one left. It's stifling to be the center of Heaven. It's oppressive to be loved by angels that revolve their entire existence around them. They aren't even sure if "love" is the right word. It's more like the angels of Heaven use MC to feel better about themselves and their place in the universe.

And Gabriel? Gabriel is the worst of them all in some ways. Okay, they all suck, but Gabriel is a special kind of suck. Gabriel is the only one that calls them but name, but there is a subtly mocking tone when he says it. Not mocking them, per se, but mocking the idea that they think they can still be only MC. At the same time, he sounds euphoric when he says their name, because he's the only one that uses it in all of Heaven. It's something of theirs that's only his and he will abuse the privilege.

Their name is sickeningly sweet as it drips like honey from his lips. It echoes in their head, beating against their skull and driving them mad. He says it so calmly, like a lover whispering in the night. He uses it so casually and with such reverence...

It makes MC feel sick.

They've asked many, many times for him to stop. They've told him that he's not allowed to use the same name as their friends. He isn't allowed to address them like that. They aren't friends!

But he keeps doing it...

Do you know the phrase "spare the rod, spoil the child"? MC is starring to understand what it means. If MC is supposed to be God now, doesn't that mean that punishing disobedience is their job? Perhaps Gabriel can be the first one they test their new duties on.

He's almost too eager to lay across their lap when they tell him to. If MC didn't know better, they would think he was smiling.

When they bring their hand down against his backside, he barely makes a sound. They do it again to the same response. They scowl as they pull down his pants and expose his bare buttom. Then they smile as he finally yelps when they hit him.

They do it again and again and again until they lose track of how many times it's been and Gabriel's ass is cherry red. The entire time, he hasn't said anything, but the sound of his cries are ingrained in MC's memory. Between each one, it sounded almost like he was praying. Not the kind for forgiveness, but the kind given in thanks.

MC feels vile afterward. Not because it was wrong, but because they enjoyed doing it. They are sick to their stomach that they allowed Gabriel to get enough of a rise out of them to do that. And they are disgusted that they want to hear him cry more. Maybe spank him until he can't sit or walk properly...

Gabriel, for his part, does not seem upset. If anything, he appears to be amused as he calls MC's name yet again just to see the shivk in their eyes turn to anger once more.

[jellsrants]

Gwen and why she lies

This one is going to be a bit messy because I'm very tired after work, but I can't not talk about this anymore.

It's easy to criticize Gwen for lying to Miles. She was obviously in the wrong, right? The narrative calls her out, the characters call her out, and, oh boy, does the fandom call her out.

But dismissing her lying as "manipulative" or just "being a bad person" is doing a disservice to yourself. Because if I see you say that I will literally murder you assume you have no media literacy or desire to comprehend what you are shown beyond the surface level.

In ITSV Gwen claims she’s been Spider-Woman for two years. Her being fifteen years old, that makes her having taken that responsibility when she was thirteen, which is an incredibly formative age.

Moreover, she clearly has a strained relationship with her father, and her other parent, if she ever had one, is not in the picture entirely. Even in the flashback of a supposed happy memory of sharing a meal with her father and Peter, Gwen and her dad don’t seem to be on the same page at all.

Miles, on the other hand, has two incredibly present parents (and a really cool uncle). Do they also not always see eye to eye? Surely, but it’s obvious that love and support to each other is central to their household no matter what.

I believe that Gwen very early on understood and learned the old and true “lie to protect” way of thinking, and by the time she just met Miles, she already had it ingrained in her. Look no further than their second interaction - where she purposely bumps into him (no, really, find that scene, she literally leans back so he can bump into her), and then lies, cringes at herself, lies again, cringes more, and so on and so forth.

Gwen saying weird stuff and then cringing at herself around Miles is, like, a repeated thing, but that’s not the point here.

The point is, by the time ATSV arrives, the stakes for Gwen are really high. If she disappoints or angers Miguel, she might be sent back ‘home’, which would be akin to a death sentence (and which ends up happening anyway). If she tells Miles the whole truth she risks losing him, and from the context clues of her just having his pictures scattered around her bedroom we could tell he’s pretty important to her.

Thing is, she wanted everything to work out. There’s a reason Hobie and Pavitr seem to almost instantly recognize Miles, despite meeting him for the first time ever. And there’s a reason Gwen chooses him after all, despite all of her fears.

So, to get this train back on track, Gwen didn’t just lie simply because she didn’t trust Miles, and definitely not because she wanted to hurt him. She lied because in the turmoil she was feeling that was the only thing she knew to do.

For years, between her responsibilities, her father’s neglect, and her tragic loss of Peter, Gwen learned, even if wrongfully, that lying and keeping secrets is the only way to keep things in any sort of peace and balance.

But will she have enough time to unlearn that?

[dreamerfms]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { adya khatri } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { she/her } is ? they kind of look like { megan suri } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { twenty-seven } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { nine years }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { alex dunphy } from { modern family }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { seaglass heights hospital } as a { surgical resident }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { know-it-all } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { blunt } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { intelligent } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { 2 } apartment beside me over in { seaglass heights }. i better leave you to it.

full name : adya khatri birthplace : boston, massachusetts date of birth : february 3rd, 1997 parentage : arjan and rasleen khatri sibling(s) : two older brothers, one older sister, one younger brother ( deceased ) occupation : surgical resident relationship status : single gender identity : cis female ( she/her ) sexual orientation : pansexual faceclaim : megan suri

background

tw: death, car accident.

adya grew up as the second youngest of five siblings in a family where success was both expected and ingrained. her father, a world-renowned surgeon, set an almost unattainable standard for his children, while her three older siblings— two doctors and one lawyer— each carved out their place in his prestigious legacy. as a child, her own dreams were different from the path laid before her. she spent countless hours stargazing, fascinated by the vastness of space and imagining herself as an astronomer unravelling the universe’s secrets. the stars were her refuge, a world where she could escape the weight of her family’s expectations.

but everything changed when she was fifteen. during an outing, her younger brother was struck by a car and grew lifeless in front of her. in that moment, adya felt utterly powerless. she couldn’t save him. she didn’t know what to do. the trauma of watching him bleed out, helpless, haunted her for years. it wasn’t just the image of her brother that stayed with her— it was the overwhelming guilt and the need to never feel so powerless again.

that experience solidified her shift toward medicine, though it was a choice she had never wanted. her father, already pressuring her to follow in his footsteps, didn’t need much convincing. adya dove headfirst into her studies, determined to be the best and to silence the shame of that day. she put aside her childhood dreams of exploring space and focused on mastering the human body instead, channelled her pain and guilt into a relentless pursuit of perfection.

now, as a first-year surgical resident, adya is already known for her razor-sharp intellect and unwavering work ethic. her meticulous nature and type-a personality have earned her a reputation as a "know-it-all" among her peers, and while she can be a bit overbearing at times, her drive to succeed is unmatched. in the operating room, she’s all focus, and doesn’t have time for mistakes. not when lives are on the line. but beneath the surface of her professional demeanour, there’s still the quiet echo of a girl who once wanted to touch the stars.

her journey is one of relentless ambition, fuelled not only by the weight of her family’s legacy but by the haunting memory of that one moment of desperation, wishing she could save her brother. despite knowing she has a lot to offer the world, some days she can't help but to wish it had been her instead. and she can't help but to wonder what life would be like if she had chosen a different path.

headcannons

she is obsessed with precision. she has a habit of straightening things around her— pens, books, even the lines on a page. she can’t focus if things aren’t perfectly aligned or in order.

while she only makes meals when she has the time to fully immerse herself in the kitchen, she's a skilled cook and spent years in the kitchen learning old family recipes with her mother.

though she often comes off as cold and distant, adya adores animals. she visits shelters often and has adopted an array of animals all over the world, and regularly keeps tabs on them.

runs on coffee most days, talks so fast at times she hurts her own brain, will correct anyone if they get something wrong, even if they technically rank above her.

literally obsessed with the stars and space. it is the one thing that makes her heart so happy. she loves to stargaze, own multiple telescopes, and one day hopes she can still find a way to explore what's out there.

wanted connections

her best friend — someone with a similar drive or perhaps a total opposites attract. a rival — in anything, tbh. chronically has to be better than anyone at every little thing known to man. an ex — probably short-lived, she's so busy sometimes it's difficult to maintain anything. she's also too honest and blunt for her own good, which could have caused tension. unlikely attraction — from her end or theirs, just a fun little thing to play around with. stargazing friend — someone she comes across a lot a night who couldn't help but to wonder what she was up to. now sitting under the stars together is a pretty regular occurrence.

c

[believingispowerfulmagic]

A Royal Affair

Summary: Queen Regina of Mist Haven is slowly losing hope that she will ever be able to marry for love. Almost every aspect of her life is controlled, especially when it comes to her friends and possible love interests. It also doesn’t help that the media portrays her as an Evil Queen who only cares about herself, focused more on living lavishly than caring about her people. She finds the only men willing to date the Evil Queen are more interested in her crown than her. And then Robin Locksley becomes her new assistant and she believes in love at first sight, wondering if maybe her happy ending is possible after all.

Robin is grateful for his job at the palace even if it means working with the Evil Queen herself. His plan is to work as her assistant for a year to prove himself and then transfer to another department within the palace. But his worldview is shaken and he realizes that things aren’t always what they seem, especially when it comes to Queen Regina. As he starts to see her for who she really is, his feelings for her deepen into something dangerous.

Intrigue, romance and danger swirl around Robin and Regina as they fight for their happily ever after.

Chapter 1: FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Chapter 7: Changing Minds

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt:

After completing his first one hundred days in the Queen's employ, Robin had felt confident when he came to work. He had no longer worried about the security of his job, certain he was doing it successfully and that he was liked by his colleagues. Robin had felt settled and that his career in the palace was pretty much secure.

Now, he felt like he had in those first weeks. His conversation with Lady Blanchard had forced him to look at everything in a new light. Robin spent the weekend evaluating his own biases and wondering exactly how his views of the Queen had caused him to interpret – or misinterpret – the interactions and statements he had witnessed. Her lecture reminded him that he often didn't have the full picture as his role required him to come and go as the Queen pleased. Without the full context, he had let what he had heard and seen just continue to reinforce his negative view of the Queen without questioning it further.

It was called confirmation bias. He had looked it up over the weekend to see if there was a reason for what he had done and if there was anything he could do about it. And while he now knew that it was a common logical fallacy that could be overcome by being more conscientious about his judgments, it didn't make him feel much better.

He had also been plagued by one other question – was his job as secure as he believed it was? Lady Blanchard said the Queen liked him and thought he was a good person. But he certainly didn't feel like one. He felt like a jerk and wondered if his colleagues secretly thought the same. If Lady Blanchard picked up on his feelings after only a couple of interactions, he could only imagine what his coworkers had witnessed working with him almost every day for over three months. He had survived his probationary period but what if that was due to the Queen's interference and everyone else really wanted him gone? Would he be able to transfer elsewhere in the palace or would his feelings for the Queen get him blacklisted when his initial year was up?

Would he even be given that time? If he was, would he be able to change how he viewed the Queen and behaved around her or were his beliefs too ingrained? And even if he could change, would it be too little, too late?

"Robin? Are you okay?"

He blinked a few times as his thoughts subsided, making it feel as if a fog had lifted. Looking around, he realized he had been wandering through the office and had arrived at Tink's rather than his own. Had his subconscious brought him here to confess how he had viewed the Queen?

"Robin?" she prompted, sounding even more concerned now.

"Sorry," he said, deciding not to say anything specific just yet. He would just keep everything vague for now. "I had an interesting conversation over the weekend and it changed some things for me. I guess I'm still processing that."

Tink accepted that, judging by her nod. "Well, I need you to put that aside for now. I have a very important task for you."

Grateful for the distraction, Robin nodded. "What is it?"

"Since you're now past your probation period, I'm going to start ceding some tasks that should be performed by you as Regina's assistant," Tink said. "Today, you need to pick up her prescriptions, which are handled by one pharmacy that almost has as much security as the palace. Usually a trusted courier who has been vetted by the royal guard and has always been very discreet delivers them to the palace. Unfortunately, they are out sick today so you need to go meet the pharmacist at a secure location to get them."

Robin nodded as this wasn't an unusual request for him. While his previous employer didn't require as much secrecy as the Queen, he had picked up or accepted such personal items in the past. "Understood."

"These are the medicines you'll be getting," Tink said, handing him a folded piece of paper. "It'll be under the name Wilma Nolan."

"Wilma?" he asked, his heart skipping a beat as he thought of the blonde who had captivated him a few weeks earlier. Had she really been the Queen?

Tink nodded. "That's the latest pseudonym. We've had to burn through a few as the media started to figure them out. Unfortunately, Regina can never be just Regina. She has no privacy."

"I know," he said softly. After realizing how much he twisted situations and conversations involving the Queen, he had a better understanding of how anyone could do that – and how much the media played a role in it. He could only imagine what the media would do if they knew about the Queen's medical conditions. She did not deserve to have them become weeklong fodder for the pundits.

She tilted her head, studying him with an unreadable expression. He wondered what was going through her mind before she nodded. "The address is on the paper. You're still new so no one likely knows you're connected to the Queen. But pay attention to your surroundings anyway and make sure that no one is following you."

"Understood," he said before realizing a problem. "I, uh, don't have a car. I usually take mass transit here."

"Right," Tink replied. "Well, you're not meeting the pharmacist until ten so I'll come up with something."

Robin nodded, grateful for that. "I'll come back at nine-thirty then."

He left her office, greeting his coworkers as they arrived and he headed for his office. Robin prepared the Queen's agenda and her morning news report on autopilot, his mind unable to process anything else but all the new revelations he learned in only a half hour that he could add to the ones from Friday.

Wilma Nolan had really been the Queen, likely in a wig. He replayed his conversation with Lady Blanchard and realized both she and David had dropped hints about the truth. Robin, though, hadn't had enough information to pick up on them and this time, didn't try to jump to any conclusions.

And he tried not to do that now. However, part of him was angry at her deception. She sat there knowing who he was and never gave him a clue about her real identity. Especially as he told her things he usually didn't tell just anyone – namely his struggle with school and ADHD. Wilma told him that she struggled with anxiety and he felt a connection with him. But was that just another lie?

Robin glanced down at the paper Tink had given him. He unfolded it, finding the address where he was to meet the pharmacist. Underneath that was the names of two medications. Opening his browser, Robin typed the first name into it and hit search. It revealed it was the name of medication for anxiety. The Queen had lied about her name but not about her medical conditions. She really did have anxiety – and likely social anxiety too.

That certainly changed how he saw her public interactions now. Rather than a cold and aloof monarch, he saw a woman battling her own brain as it made her worry that she was doing something wrong and insulting someone. She still powered through it and handled each situation as best she could. And honestly, as he played them back, there were more moments where she was warm and welcoming than not. He just had focused on those few moments likely fueled by her own self-doubt.

He then looked up the second medicine and his heart sank further when he read that it was for migraines. Robin flashed back to the day he thought the Queen was hungover and realized all the symptoms – sensitivity to light and sounds, nausea, paleness – also matched someone suffering from a migraine. One of "those days" as the staff called it was just code for the Queen having a migraine.

It all made sense and he felt like a jerk for jumping to hangover rather than a migraine.

"Way to go, Locksley," he muttered to himself. "You've managed to snag a job that could set your career for life and you've likely ruined it by being a close-minded twat."

He felt like such a hypocrite. For years, Robin had prided himself on being open-minded and not rushing to judgment. But he had done just that with the Queen and had cast her as a villain before even meeting her. That wasn't fair to her and she deserved better from her assistant. Robin just hoped he could change and be the assistant she deserved.

"Don't just hope," he told himself. "Do it. Starting today."

Resolved, Robin turned back to his work as he waited for Tink's summons. He was about to be the best assistant Queen Regina ever had and pray it would be enough to make up for every unkind thought ever had for her.