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hirukochan · 9 months

Note

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle.

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink.

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour.

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out.

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war.

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready.

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd.

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie.

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good.

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend.

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work.

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint.

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you.

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.”

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that.

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean.

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad.

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it.

You have always been Severus’ safespace.

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting.

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod.

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings.

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver.

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely.

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face.

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner...

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips.

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him.

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you.

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile.

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you.

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it.

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans.

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind.

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long.

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure.

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder.

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises.

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow.

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw.

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you.

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

#severus snape #snape fandom #ao3 fanfic #severus snape smut #Severus Snape x reader #snape x reader #snape x you #request #dividers by cafekitsune

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vivwritesfics · 6 months

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No Need To Ask

Chapter Ten - Leaning Spanish

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

A/N: I feel like I haven't made this very clear so far in the series, but when there are parts in Spanish with no translation by them, it is because the reader is not meant to know Spanish yet. If a translation is included (as I have in this part), it is because the reader still can't understand it but it needs to be known for the storyline

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Married life wasn’t what Y/N had expected it to be. She didn’t get a honeymoon, didn’t spend time with a loving husband, didn’t sleep in his bed or really ever seen him. It was almost the same those two weeks before she was married.

Almost.

There was one rather significant difference.

Oscar hadn’t been seen since the wedding. She searched for him, going from room to room, calling his name. Y/N did most of her exploring when she searched for Oscar.

She wanted to ask Carlos, wanted to walk into his office and simply ask whether he’d seen Oscar or knew where he was. But the men guarding the office terrified her. She could see their guns in the waistband of their trousers, each men having at least two.

So, Y/N sat in the library, playing a game of chess against herself. She sat at one side of the table, moving a single piece. Moving to the opposite side of the table, Y/N moved a piece from the other side of the board, playing an impossible game against herself.

She’d never felt so lonely. Even after her mother died, Y/N hadn’t felt this lonely. For her entire life she’d had Lando to lean on, and for the past week she had Oscar. And now, she had loneliness.

The first time Y/N saw her husband after the night of their wedding was at dinner. The family had congregated at Carlos’ house, sitting at the table which had been placed back on the patio.

It was a family dinner, one that Y/N had to attend now that she was Carlos’ wife.

One of Carlos’ men came to get her. He’d run all over the house looking for her before finding her sat in the library, seemingly playing a game of chess against nobody. When the man burst in, Y/N stared up at him from her seat, midway through moving the black knight on her chess board.

He said something in Spanish and Y/N continued to stare at him. So, he cleared his throat and tried again, this time in English. “You are expected for dinner with la familia,” he said and marched out of the library.

Y/N placed the chess piece down, moving the white queen from the board as the knight took its place. She left it there and rushed out of the library, through the kitchen and out the back door to the table.

She took her seat beside Carlos, keeping her gaze down. The rest of the family was already around the table, the conversation halted as Y/N took her seat. Sainz, sat at the head of the table, said something. It was something directed at her, something said in Spanish.

When she didn’t respond, Sainz turned his attention to his son. “Tu esposa es impertinente,” he said (Your wife is impertinent). Carlos didn’t respond. “Le has iniciado a aprender español?” (Have you started her on learning Spanish?)

Carlos shook his head. Soon his mother joined in, berating her son for the state of his wife, but Y/N couldn’t understand any of it. She sat there quietly and ate the food placed in front of her.

The dinner continued on in this manner. Carlos’ sisters were silent, listening to the argument. Whenever they got a moment, they whispered to each other, giggling to themselves as they looked at Y/N. Y/N didn’t think she’d ever get used to this, ever get used to being in this family. This dinner, her first dinner as Carlos’ wife, solidified this for her.

The next day Y/N had done her search of the house for Oscar. Still, there was no sign of him. She couldn’t find him in any room in the house (with the door to the bedroom he had been given being locked shut), Y/N tried to explore outside.

There was nothing stopping her from heading out into the back garden. The patio tiles were warm under her shoes as she desperately searched for any sign of the man who had become her best friend. But there was no sign of him out the back, so Y/N tried to explore the front of the house.

Unlike the three separate doors leading to the back garden, there was a single doorway that led to the front garden. And they were guarded. Y/N thought nothing of it as she went to walk past Carlos’ men, heading towards the front door. They held out their arms, halting her in her tracks. They spoke to her in Spanish, explaining that she wasn’t allowed to leave without Carlos or an immediate member of the Sainz family. But Y/N couldn’t understand any of it.

So, Y/N turned on her heel and walked away from the men. She stared at the floor as she walked through the hall, heading towards the library.

Once again she found herself playing a game of chess on her own. Oscar wasn’t there to play against her and Y/N didn’t want to be around Carlos. She was pretty sure that sweet man she met back in England didn’t exist. He wasn’t real, just an illusion.

There was a knock on the library door.

Nobody knocked on the library door, especially not when Y/N was in there. So far Carlos’ men just burst into the room, startling her. But this person knocked. Y/N looked at the door, waiting for the person on the other side to enter.

Her husband walked into the room. He strode over, taking the empty seat opposite Y/N. “Who is your opponent?” He asked, looking across the chess pieces.

Y/N moved one of her pawns forward. “Myself,” she answered and sat back, waiting for Carlos to make the next move for her.

When he did, Y/N scrunched up her face. It wasn’t the move she would have made, wasn’t the way she wanted to take the game, but she ignored it. Once Carlos left she’d just reset and start again.

“One day I will be the head of this family,” he said and waited for Y/N to make her move. But she didn’t leaving the pieces where they were. “And when I am the head of this family, you will be by my side.”

Y/N knew this. She knew she was to be by Carlos’ side while he ruled.

“To do this effectively, You will need to learn Spanish,” he said.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t like she hadn’t expected this. She really had. Especially with how the rest of the family kept their conversation to Spanish during dinner.

“I have arranged for you to have a tutor,” said Carlos as he stood up. “She will meet you in here every day and two o’clock,” he said and turned on his heel.

Suddenly the library was no longer her sanctuary. It was where Y/N had been going to escape the Sainz family, but now, with the addition of a tutor, the library no longer felt safe. Y/N hadn’t met the tutor yet, she couldn’t pass any judgement on them, but she was still afraid. This would bring her one step close to the Sainz family.

“Carlos!” She called, but he was already gone, striding out of the library and heading back to his office.

If she was going to have a tutor, she was going to do it with Oscar at her side. But Carlos had gone, stopping her small attempt at asking.

She reset her game and began playing with herself once again. At two o’clock on the dot the library door was thrown open and in walked Y/N’s new Spanish tutor. She was a stern looking woman, black hair pulled back into a tight bun and a black pinstripe suit on her body. A pair of glasses sat on her sharp, prominent nose, yet she looked at Y/N over the top of them. “Buenas tardes Señora Sainz,” said the tutor.

Y/N just looked at her.

“Not even that, eh? Dios mío, tengo mucho trabajo por delante,” the tutor mumbled and took a seat opposite Y/N. She pushed the chess pieces off the board and placed her bag down in their place.

Taglist (open): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @ashy-kit @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes

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inamagicalhallucination · 11 months

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ok gift giving is a big part of atsushi’s love language

this wasn’t meant to be long but-

whether its becuz the tiger’s cat-desire to hunt for the agency translated to something more human (along with cooking but my cooking atsushi headcanons will pop out sometime else) or just becuz atsushi has never been gifted anything pre-agency and to him its something very precious who knows

it’s not that he spends ages pouring over what to give the agency members (well not always) its more like if he goes to the store and sees a type of candy ranpo likes he’ll buy it for him

when atsushi’s new at wanting to give his loved ones gifts, he does over think it tho cmon its atsushi

like he’ll see a nice pen, buy it for kunikida, but then he’ll feel like its such a dumb little thing and he should’ve put more effort into a gift because of that he ends up hoarding a lot of trinkets becuz he’ll see them and buy them as presents but be too shy to give them up

(and he’ll also spend ages pouring over what the perfect present for everyone would be but always finding some fault in his ideas)

it’s not until dazai’s breaking into atsushi’s apartment to teach him the joys of stealing other people’s credit cards that he notices a neat stack of containers with atsushi’s friends and stuff’s name on it and asks atsushi about it that something ever happens

dazai: don’t tell me atsushi, you were planning on chopping us all up and storing us into these containers ? u’d need bigger ones for that by the way

atsushi, horrified: WHAT?? of course not!!! these are-

atsushi, flustered: these are just things that i dont know i bought becuz i thought you’d like them. but theyre silly so i didn’t give-

dazai, already opening his own box: ATSUSHI!

atsushi, trying to pull him away: what

dazai, pulling out a tiny void eyed black cat keychain: did you buy this for me? how did you know i wanted it?

atsushi:

atsushi: you wanted it?

dazai, lying but atsushi doesn’t need to know that: yeah i wanted something like this. how cruel atsushi, buying it and storing it away~ not giving it to me :(

atsushi, pleased and happy: do you um want to look at the other stuff ?

so essentially dazai in his own strange way of not actually addressing the problem convinces atsushi to give his silly little gifts to the agency members

(and tho he did not want anything like the keychain before, he’s quite pleased by it and all the other things that atsushi got for him)

so atsushi in a moment of joy and happiness places all the containers in front of each members door with his name signed and bolts (kyouka’s is placed near her stuff right before he leaves since he wakes up before her) (things for non-agency members like lucy are left in places where they work/hang out a lot) (fukuzawa’s in front of his office doors)

the morning at work, atsushi’s shaking with nervousness

the first one to arrive after him is kunikida (who’s usually the first to arrive)

kunikida greets atsushi politely - theres something about him that seems different, a little red on his cheeks but atsushi cant tell what; he’s too busy being relieved that kunikida isn’t upset about his gifts

when kunikida opens his book, the pen he pulls out is the one atsushi gifted him and atsushi is immediately filled with warmth and contentment (when he moves his head, atsushi notices that his hair is tied with the ribbon atsushi gave him)

kunikida doesn’t say anything but his gratitude and his appreciation for atsushi’s gifts is clear (also he may or may not ruffle atsushi’s hair more than usual that day)

after kunikida and dazai’s appreciation, atsushi is more excited about everyone’s reactions

junichiro is flustered and pleased and thanks him profusely, grinning the entire day - naomi tells him about each gift and why she likes it

kenji tries to gift him a cow which is banned from the office by kunikida - who points out that atsushi wouldn’t know what to do with it, so kenji comes back with chickens, and then after the same thing happens, gives atsushi stuff from his garden

haruno and the other staff all thank atsushi with hugs or shoulder pats

ranpo doesn’t look at atsushi as he approaches him but he’s wearing the pins atsushi bought him and the fact that he’s holding out a candy for atsushi to take is telling enough

yosano thanks him fiddling with the bracelet atsushi bought

kyouka apologizes for not giving him anything and atsushi has to explain to her that he’s just getting gifts becuz he wants to not becuz he wants them to give hm something back

fukuzawa does the old person affection thing by placing his hand on atsushi head ya know the thing

anyway

lucy is blushing when he goes down to the cafe and calls him dumb and then gives him extra cake so-

the only person who atsushi’s bought gifts for but hasn’t given them to is akutagawa

their relationship isn’t as hostile as before but atsushi doesn’t know what to do with it but he thinks theres a tiny chance that akutagawa might like them so he makes up his mind and ships them to him (he does not include a return address or his name)

akutagawa, climbing through atsushi’s window a few days later: it was you wasn’t it?

atsushi: stop climbing through my window asshole????

akutagawa, coughing and showing atsushi the black bracelet atsushi got him: answer me

atsushi, remembering the gifts, flushing: wh-what ? noooo- I uh. I mean i don’t know what you’re talking about

akutagawa: it has to be you. no one else would give me something as strange as a plastic skeleton

atsushi, weakly: it fit ur aesthetic ?

akutagawa, ‘glaring’ at him:

atsushi: ...sorry?

akutagawa, looking away, coughing, ears red: whatever. i don’t like being in debt. tell me what you want, i’ll buy it for u

atsushi: oh no no no. you don’t have to do that! honest. it was just a few silly things that reminded me of... you... r u okay ur face’s red

akutagawa, grabbing atsushi and pulling him towards the window: shut up im buying u dinner

atsushi, very confused: ok?

anyway yeah

might add a part 2 becuz i wasn’t gonna post the start of atsushi giving gifts but just him giving ppl gifts but i cant help myself

also howd akutagawa get here

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ldrfanatic · 2 months

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love made me crazy

Theodore Nott x Reader "13" Series pt 3 warnings - cursing prob, smoking, etc, idrk no major triggers

translator series masterlist <previous chapter next chapter>

slytherin boys masterlist navigation

As you walked through the stone corridors at Hogwarts, you tried to ignore the stares. A few of Theo's groupies had taken to staring you down and whispering behind your back. Ever since you found out about the dare, Theo had been all over you. Flowers, carrying your books, bringing you gifts, large romantic gestures and the like. It was causing his fangirls to dump all of their frustrations onto you.

A few girls in yellow and gray were staring you down with unsatisfied looks. Their apparent ring leader approached you. Her face was twisted in mock surprise but there was a mean glint in her eyes. "Now someone tell me how is that a girl like you has had Theodore Nott drooling over her?" You rolled your eyes and shoved past her.

She grabbed your arm pulled you back. The hallway fell silent and all heads turned towards you. She pulled an ink bottle from her satchel and poured it over the top of your head.

"Oops."

Everyone in the corridor starting laughing at you. Suddenly, Theo appeared behind her. He whispered something into her ear with dark eyes. Heather's face blanched and her eyes started to water up. She turned and fled quickly down the corridor, her friends scurrying after her.

Theo offered you a hankerchief, the letters T.N. embroidered on it. You wiped your face and hands with the cloth and then passed it back to him.

"This doesn't make us even Nott. It is still your fangirl that did this."

Theo rolled his beautiful eyes at you and you used all your might to smother the butterflies that stirred for the first time in weeks. In fact, you hadn't actually spoken to Theo in weeks. His deep voice caught you off guard when he spoke suddenly.

"I didn't do this to be even with you. I did this because people should know better than to threaten my girl. And now everybody knows your my girl."

The butterflies vanished as the more unbearable side of Theo made its appearance. However, it was different this time. Usually he was arrogant with a fully inflated ego. This time it wasn't arrogance. You'd been studying Theodore Nott long enough to tell the difference. The way that his italian accent slipped and thickened his voice. The way that his eyes lost their usual bored look and darkened with jealousy.

The kind of signs that made you want to be careful with his heart even though he'd been careless with yours.

Your eyes softened as they met his.

"I-" You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way that your heart cracked. "I'm not your girl Theo." You spoke softly. Soft enough to hear the way that his heart cracked too. "What did you say to her anyways?"

You hadn't noticed, but the two of you began walking together down the corridor.

"I just reminded her that she was threatening the girl that held the heart of the son of one of the most powerful and dangerous Death Eaters in the country."

"But you hate your father."

Theo stopped and grabbed your hand softly. "I'd do anything for you. I'd kill my father if you asked me to. I'd..." He breathed deeply. "I'd kill everyone if you asked me to."

Your breath caught in your chest. "How can you say that?"

"You can't blame me, sweetheart. My love for you has made me crazy." A corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your now cleaner forehead. "See you later, dolcezza."

For the rest of the week, you tried not to think about Theo. It was hard. He'd actually been doing better. He'd quit smoking. After he caught the snitch at the last quidditch match, he'd flown over and given it to you. Much to Madame Hooch's displeasure.

Now, rolling the small golden ball around in your hand, you tried to ignore the bubbling feelings in your stomach. Whether or not you'd reacted too quickly to his betrayal shouldn't have caused you guilt. It shouldn't have mattered. He lied to you.

Yet you couldn't find it within yourself to be angry any longer. And the urge to hear him out on whatever he had to say was getting more and more unbearable.

Which is probably how you found yourself pacing in the Slytherin common room waiting for Theo to come down from the boys dormitory after you'd asked Lorenzo to retrieve him. "You wanted to see me, bella?" You stood there looking like a fish out of water with your mouth wide open like an idiot.

"I did."

"Why?"

You sat on the dark green couch and pat the seat next to you gently. Theo crossed the room and spread out in the seat next to yours. "I just thought you might deserve a chance to explain yourself. I never really let you before." You looked down bashfully at your hands.

"There's no reason to be shy. We've known each other for years. And while I do appreciate the opportunity to explain myself, I hope you know that you don't owe me anything doll."

"I know, Theo."

Theo sat up a little straighter and took your hand in his own. "I want you to know, I truly never intended to hurt you. When the guys found out that you had a crush on me, they wanted to play a game with you. They bet me 25 galleons that I couldn't break your heart in a week."

Your eyes welled up with tears. It was true. Theodore Nott had gone out with you on a dare.

"But the dare never mattered to me, Y/n." He scooted closer to you on the couch and took your face in his hands. "I never accepted the money. Even after. I only accepted the dare because I wanted an excuse to get closer to you. And I told myself that it didn't matter if you found out or not. That either way I'd win. But it does matter. I don't want you to get hurt. I just want to be with you."

"I can't Theo."

He stood abruptly from his seat next to you. "WHY? You asked me to explain myself and I did."

"I'm sorry Theo. But explaining yourself does not give you any right to my love. I forgive you. I understand now. But I can't trust you, so I can't be with you. I'm sorry."

Theo scoffed and walked briskly out of the now silent common room. The same one who's floor was covered with the shattered pieces of not one, but two hearts.

3.28.24

#Spotify #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #taylor swift #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin

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mangekyuou · 2 months

Note

Straw Hats x Fem reader platonic! This just popped into my head after watching ATLA! What if S/O, who’s mute, owned a pet messenger bird? No, scratch that, a pet messenger hawk? Sharp-looking, intelligent, and fast, he’s her pet companion that she takes care of sweetly and kindly. He can deliver messages to anyone around the world! I’m surprised that One Piece didn’t have a pet parrot, besides Karoo. HCs?

★ WITH A MUTE CREWMATE WHO HAS A PET MESSENGER HAWK! headcanons ★

── featuring. the strawhats.

── cw. gn!reader. no pronouns used. platonic. mentions of your hawk fighting zoro and sanji lol. not proofread.

── notepad. this has been sitting in my inbox SO LONG. IM SO SORRY. i really hope this reaches the og anon.

accidentally crossing paths with the new rag-tag group of hotshot pirates that were becoming a thorn in the side of the marines was unexpected. becoming a trusted member almost overnight was even more so

you are welcomed with open arms by your new family. well, you and your vigilant and protective hawk that was always perched on your shoulder, ready to snap at the hands of your new and still unfamiliar crewmates if they got to get too close to you

luffy, friendly and touchy as he can be, seems to be your hawk's main victim of the pecking. he never learns

outside of steering clear away from your violent friend with wings, the straw hats do everything in their power to ensure you are comfortable. never will you ever feel left out with them

they make sure to always include you in conversations, even if you don't want to contribute to them

they learn other ways to communicate with you, whether it is handing you a pen and a pad to write on, or starting to learn sign language. whatever makes you the most comfortable

your crewmates have an unintentional habit of checking for you the moment you are no longer in their line of sight

nami is the worst about it. she can't even count the number of times she almost had a heart attack thinking you were gone because she didn't see you for more than five seconds, before smothering you in big sister hugs and scolding you to never do it again

franky is the second worst about it. the one time the two of you went on a mission to find supplies in a village, he got distracted and kept walking, not noticing that you stopped a while ago. when he turned around and you were nowhere to be found, he was losing it. he called for you all over the village before falling to his knees in despair and crying a river before you returned having already found the supplies. he swore if he wasn't already crying he would have cried tears of joy when he saw you again

the straw hats find your pet hawk and the bond that the two of you share is very cool. to demonstrate their intelligence, you write a letter to your family back home and send your hawk on its way. when the bird returns a day later with another letter when its journey should have taken them weeks, the straw hats are in amazement

every now and then they ask your permission to send letters to their loved ones, even though you've told them several times that they don't need permission

it was just getting your hawk to like them is a whole other thing

your hawk absolutely loves chopper and robin. when they are not near you, they are perched on the top of chopper's hat, watching the reindeer do his tasks, while feeding them snacks in between.

while with robin, your hawk is comfortable enough to snuggle into her lap and fall asleep as they do with you while she reads on the deck of the sunny. you're starting to think they love her more than they love you

but you need more than two hands to count the number of times your hawk has left a few of your crewmates full of scratches due to being irritated by them, mostly zoro and sanji because of their "stupid bird" comments

well what can you do, the bird has a mind of its own

MANGEKYOU 2024 ── do not copy, repost, or translate my works onto this platform or any other !

#☆ — MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE.#one piece #the strawhats #the straw hats #strawhats #strawhat pirates #strawhats x reader #straw hats x reader #one piece oneshots #one piece scenarios #one piece imagines #one piece headcanons

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inklore · 2 years

Text

gauze

premise: you were eddie’s outlet for his rage just as he was the gentle hands that soothed your darkness.

pairing: eddie munson x dark!f!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: eighteen+ content, soft!dark eddie, reader and eddie are both a little insane, like psychopathic, dark content/undertones, unprotected-rough p in v, choking, dirty talk, praise and degradation, public sex, obsessive behavior, violence, blood, masturbation, jealousy, i love chrissy but reader is not v kind to her sorry, cheating, mean!girl reader, cynical ways, intrusive thoughts.

etc: i wasn’t sure if i was even going to post this because it’s not my favorite thing i’ve written and purely self indulgent but fuck it lmao.

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

It's the tenth time today you find yourself rolling your eyes at the bubbly cheerleader across from you. Going off on a tangent about the drab blonde who currently has his arm slung across her shoulders. The look of artificial love radiating off of his eyes like the same kind of radiation you wish was making you go deaf and blind right now.

The longer you have to sit and listen, to feen fake interest, support, to act like you liked the boy whose arm was pulling you into his chest, your body leaned into his as if you were actually interested. As if you actually found the heavy scent of his cologne wooing enough to make you weak in the knees when all it really did was make you sick to your stomach. He was a circus monkey amongst the other brain washed animals following their ring leader in hopes they are putting on a great show. When really it was a shit show of fake showmanship and pathetic tricks that never landed; if only one of them would land on their neck and put themselves out of their misery.

But in some ways you were just as artificial. Just as pathetic as you pretended, pranced around like a well manicured puppet in a short skirt.

Everyone did something to pass the time here, to get through this shit show of high school and the depression that came from living in a dead end town. Whether that was pretending to like your friends or worming your way into the popular group because you were bored. Or because you had a taste for the bitter enjoyment of watching the pathetic become even more pathetic and sacrificial just to get a laugh out of it later—and the free booze and weed helped.

The attention was nice too, you suppose.

What else were you supposed to do when your parents had dragged you to this shitty town? The smell of cow shit and denim from the Gap making you nauseous anytime you really let it sink in—your surroundings, that this was going to be your reality for a year until you graduated and got the hell out of here, away from your parents, away from everyone.

Maybe then you’d have peace of mind.

Until then you toyed with sacrificial, the students of Hawkins High, pretending to care about sports, about whatever Chrissy would confide in you with. Feeding off of their miserableness and pathetic sufferings like a newborn baby sucking from a freshly made bottle.

They wouldn't know suffering if it hit them with a bus and incapacited them—if only you were that lucky.

The tightening of the arm around your shoulder has your daydreams of the group getting trampled to death falling to the back of your brain, your focus coming back to reality. To Chrissy smiling and raising her brows at the hand at the side of your tit that seems to get closer and closer with each movement of its owner's body. Her eyes are flashing excitement and happiness for you, for the gossip she will want to talk about later over it.

When all it's doing is making you dig your nails into the meat of your exposed thighs because you want to grab your fork and stab his eyes out—all of their eyes out.

But you put on a fake smile, a fake expression of excitement and nervous interest. Like your insides were going crazy right now, like this was a big step in the four month relationship you only started because Andy was the least annoying choice out of the group. And when you scowled at him he cowered and let you have your way—out of fear? Maybe. Or maybe he thought the more he did whatever you wanted you’d actually let him into your pants.

Which was highly doubtful.

The one night you had actually thought to let him get past touching your boob over your blouse he had went and ruined it by trying to slip his tongue in your mouth—he was already a shit kisser and each time his lips pressed to yours you had to imagine someone else to stop yourself from throwing up.

Even when his palm was massaging your chest all you felt was annoyance, and the urge to grab one of his fingers and bend it back far enough to watch him drop to his knees and wither in pain. That idea got you wetter than he ever could.

When it came to compatible sexual partners for you in this town it seemed only one reigned high. The others hadn’t gotten past the fingering phase because god forbid they knew how to treat your pussy like something other than a dj booth.

You felt bad for Chrissy, having tried Jason out a couple of times yourself—that look of artificial love he was aiming at her the the same look he had shot you with when you had been bored one night and wanted to see what your ‘best friend’ actually saw in him; the two of you in a lip lock at the basketball teams little hideout. You in his lap letting your cheer skirt be pushed up around the top of your thong as Jason squeezed your ass in a way that can only be considered a touch you’d use against fragility, as if you were a baby bunny who he cupped in his hands and wanted to take care of—it was sickening. Your hips gyrated against his crouch and it made you frown at the lack of package that had been there. Your frown only deepened when you had let him slip his fingers past your panties only to have him make a fool out of himself.

Poor Chrissy you had thought. No wonder she was the way she was, lack of orgasms would do that to you you were sure.

When you had pulled away from Jason, claimed you had to get home, his grip had tightened around your hips. The begs that had come from his mouth were almost pathetic enough to make you stay, the only thing that could remotely be fun to you. The harder he gripped the more interested you became. But blondes weren’t really your type, no matter how intriguing their pathetic-ness was.

Your threats of telling Chrissy how imperfect her little boyfriend was, the fear on his face, bringing a smile to your face, had made him let go of you.

But clearly was still affecting him each time his eyes would connect with yours, his face falling, gaze quickly diverting. The leap of enjoyment you got out of it thrilling to your insides.

Jason and Andy are cackling about whatever is going to happen at the game tonight. You doing your best to disassociate from them, Chrissy trying to get your attention, to the entire group chatting away around you—your leg bouncing under the table, your nerves on edge to lash out to get them to all hut up, or to escape the cafeteria and hide out elsewhere with a cigarette between your fingers, or something stronger.

Your scowl is deep set, eyes skating across the room as you try to hone in on something, do that thing your parent-appointed-therapist had told you to do to stop your restlessness; the shiny perfect word they used instead of labeling it as the random acts of violence you tended to find yourself being the culprit of.

And then you hear his voice. The booming octave of it, the way it makes your scowl ease, stomach tighten.

Your eyes quickly finding him from across the room. Smirking when you see him on top of his lunch table putting on a show for the whole cafeteria. The grumbles and disses he’s dishing out unwarranted to each table, voice booming throughout the room like a blow horn. Your bouncing leg comes to a halt when his eyes land on yours as he belittles the group of jocks at the table.

“You want something freak?” Jason is saying as he stands up from the table. As he puffs his chest out like he’s doing a big stroke of business, like he could remotely do anything with those hands besides throw balls in a net, and miss the clit.

Your top teeth chew on your bottom lip as you try to hide the joy that comes from the act of Eddie showing off in retaliation—the tongue that hangs from his mouth, the tongue that you’ve felt inside of your mouth, along your chest, in between your legs.

Before Munson turns and heads back down the table he sends you a wink, a smirk across his lips that has your thighs clenching. You let your eyes linger on him though, as he jumps from the table, as he continues his little show for his friends.

Your gaze only pulling from his eyes when you feel a kick come from under the table to your shin. Your scowl back and shooting at Chrissy, “what?”

“You should watch the way you’re looking at him.”

The look you give her is deadly, laced with irritation and the itching need to reach out and pull her hair. “Again, I say what?”

“He’s a freak,” she says under her breath, like he might actually hear here from miles away. “You were death glaring at him.” She frowns, “you don’t know what could come from that.”

You want to tell her that you’d love to see what came from it, encourage it. Want to laugh in her face because she has no clue how much of a freak Eddie Munson really is.

“That’d be a big mistake.” Andy states, tightens his hold on you. “Messin’ with my girl.” You swear you can smell the blood from how deep you’re pressing your nails into your thigh as he presses his lips to your cheek, like he’s some knight and shining armor saving you from some grueling monster. Like he wouldn’t shit his pants if he even came close to any sort of danger.

You have to swallow down the venom that wants to come out, the grimace that you have to cover up with a giggle, as you subtly pull away from him, as if you were shy, blushing.

The only thing that settles your insides from the lash out, the mean degrading comment you want to shoot his way, is the thought of how it might actually be entertaining to watch him to try to go up against Eddie. At how he would utterly fail and get pummeled to the ground. How he might actually look attractive to you covered in his own blood. All at the hands of Eddie The Freak, the only interesting person in this entire town—the only one who understands you more than surface level, the reward at the end of the day when youre done acting and can let your true self show; the darkness, the vileness that he laps out of you with his tongue, swallows down, fucks in and out of you like a demon of desire and sin that wants to see every dark and dirty part of your mind, body, and soul and praise you for it.

When you let your eyes move back over to his table he’s already looking at you. That dead stare that looks like a mean scowl, a potential mean and scary undertone of something that would have others running away from him or calling him names for. But only makes your insides heat up, burn, want.

It has your breath shuttering. It not going unnoticed by Andy.

“You okay, babe?” He asks concerned.

“I’m full.” You stand up from the table, making his arm fall from your shoulders and thud against the chair. The hiss of pain he lets out making your lips twitch in joy. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Want me to come with?” Chrissy asks sweetly.

“If I wanted your company I would have asked.” Your tone is the bare minimum of cruelty you want it to be, but it still has her cowering and leaning back in her chair with a frown. “Stay.” You shoot at Andy as you see him starting to get up, your skirt swooshing in the air as you twirl around to head towards the doors.

Hearing the “way to go Chrissy, you’ve pissed her off” from Andy as you push through the doors of the cafeteria.

Your stomping down the hall—kids dodging you like bullets when they see you coming—doesn’t stop until you get to the bathrooms and have locked yourself away in a stall. Eyes closing, breath heavy, the back of your skull against the tiled wall.

Your fingers moving quick and without hesitation until they are past the waistband of your skirt and underwear, and have made contact with your throbbing clit. Channeling all of the rage and want coiling in your stomach through images of Eddie spreading you across the cafeteria table and fucking you in front of all of your so called friends, showing Andy and Jason how to actually touch a pussy—living up to his freak title as he whispers the dirty and filthy things into your ear that always make you sob into his shoulder, but would make them blush and reach for a crucifix.

“If only they knew how much of a freak you really are,” Eddie’s words rattle throughout your brain as you bite your lip so hard you draw blood.

“What happened?”

“You miss-stepped!”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Oh my god, there’s blood all over!”

“Get her back to the locker room!”

“I’ll do it!” You finally pipe up, move the hand that’s firmly pressed to your chest as you push past the other girls to grab Claire by the elbow with a gentle touch. “My mothers a nurse, I know how to handle this kind of thing.” You give the coach soft reassuring eyes, tell the red head to bend her head back. Give her more soothing touches to really sell your ploy.

“Okay, go! Make sure you call her parents. The two of you can sit out and wait for them for the rest of the game.” There’s still huffs of exasperated nervous air throughout the crowd, still shocked and weary glances being shot around.

You nod quickly and pull the girl close to your side as you push through the small crowd to lead her through the gym doors and into the locker room. Making sure everyone sees the concerned touches and look in your eyes as soft encouraging words coo out of you.

You could have waited until the end of the game, there was only twenty minutes on the clock. Could have let it run out and then finally make your escape. Free yourself from the song and dance and run out of the doors and into the dark abyss—Eddie’s van that would be waiting for you outside like it always was, even though you never asked, hinted, said you’d meet up with him, he’s always there waiting for you.

But the longer your lips up turned into a fake smile, the longer you had to act cheerful and prance around the gym with your cheer sisters. Act like you cared about the bouncing of a ball that only gave you headaches and the shouts of the people around you that made you wish a bomb would go off and end your misery; the longer your intrusive thoughts made your stomach sour, you needed to get out of there.

The sooner the better.

And maybe Claire didn’t deserve it. She never did anything wrong to you. She was less annoying than most of the them. And in her defense you were aiming for Sasha, but Claire stepped in the way of your swiping ankle and down she went head first—or nose first if the loud crunch sounding louder than the shocked squeals of the crowd, and the blood coming from her nostrils in the gallons staining the front of her uniform were anything to go by—a beautiful crimson red that actually made the ugly green look better on her.

You had to hide yourself in the crowd that had formed around her, had to cover your mouth to hide the smile. It taking all of your energy just to act like you gave a shit about her howling and crying.

You weren't lying when you said your mother was a nurse. And you had picked up a few things from her, when you were the way you were—fucked in the head—you were bound to learn a thing or two. Your mother had stopped a lot of bleeding from yourself, thanks to you, because of you. Accidents that happened to friends, or cousins that got on your last nerve.

Hence the whole parent-appointed-therapist.

But now that you were pulled away from the noise of the gym and the watchful eyes were gone, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually let the fake sympathy stay.

“It’s really not that bad, shut up.” You throw a wadded up ball of toilet tissue at her. “Just keep your head back and press the bridge of your nose.” She gives you a weak look, tears still streaming, hands covering her nose. Sighing heavily you swat her hands away, can’t help the smile that tugs at one corner of your mouth as you see how the lower half of her face is covered in blood, her nose now bent to a slant.

“Is it broke?” She cries, blood slipping into her mouth making her cough.

“Like an egg,” you smile. Want to trace the pad of your finger down the cracked bridge of it. Her poor pretty face. “Your dad has good insurance right?” She whimpers when you press the tissue to her nose a little harder than you need to. “You’ve always needed a nose job anyway, at least now you’ll finally get it.”

You pat her cheek softly, turn on your heel and start to head towards the locker doors that lead back out to the hall.

“Where are you going?” She’s crying, words muffled by the tissue and blood around her mouth.

“To call your parents of course.” You turn back to look at her, one hand on the door handle. “Wait here. Keep your head elevated or you’ll bleed to death.” You lie—you weren’t that lucky—giving her a big grin before you’re prancing out of the door, down the hall and out the front doors of the school.

Any sort of concern, which was nonexistent, about the injured girl long gone as your eyes squint through the dark parking lot of the school looking for him.

“Shouldn’t you be off ra-raing?” Eddie asks as you stride up to his van. Arms behind your back, innocent look on your face as you watch him lean against the hunk of junk that gets him around, knee bent as his boot rests against the rested edge, cigarette between his lips.

“Don’t you have some cult to be leading?” You throw back at him, pull the cigarette from his mouth to press in between your own glossed one, taking a long puff. A heavy sigh echoing throughout your chest on the exhale—thank god for the sweet burn of nicotine.

“Cult meetings rarely run late.” He smiles, his tongue running across his bottom lip as he watches you smoke his cigarette. Eyes moving down your cheer uniform, to your legs and back up. “Won’t your fellow circus monkeys miss you? However will they be able to cheer on the stars of our generation without you?”

Your shoulders shrug as you tap the ashes onto the pavement, look over at him through the smoke.

“This monkey got sick of them,” your arms cross as you lean beside him against the van. “She escaped.”

“Ah, who’s the victim this time?”

“Who says there was a victim? Maybe she told them just how sacrificial and sick they make her.”

“Finally gave them the middle finger?”

“Maybe.”

Eddie turns so his shoulder is leaning against the van instead of his back, index finger placing itself under your chin. Pushing your head towards his, your gazes meeting as his thumb runs along your cheek. When he pulls his fingers back there’s a tiny spot of blood on the pad of his thumb.

“We both know you’re more bite than you are bark.” There’s no disgust on his face, laced in his words, no concern, judgment or any recoiling from you. It makes your stomach flutter. The corner of his mouth twitching with the show of amusement, “who did you bite today?”

“Claire Wilks.” You speak easily, take one last puff of the cigarette before you’re throwing it to the ground and snuffing it out with the toe of your white sneakers.

“Did she deserve it?” His voice is low and he’s leaning just a little closer to you as he presses his tongue to his thumb to wet it, bringing it back down on your cheek to rub where you can only assume is more dried blood.

“They always do.”

He chuckles under his breath, “you can’t bite everyone who annoys you. The whole town would be laying in a pool of their own blood if that was the case. Claire doesn’t seem as bad as the rest of them.”

You smile, “she’s bad enough. Plus, I..” you swallow, feeling that nervousness that only comes from being around Eddie. Someone who sees you, knows you, takes you for what you are—who you are because he’s just like you in his own dark way. “I missed you.”

He doesn’t respond, just smirks and continues to clean your face from your discretions. You don’t think he’s going to say anything, feel yourself growing agitated and antsy from the thought. From your wanted attention from him—from spending the better half of your day fantasizing about him, from splitting the bridge of Claire’s nose just so you could see him sooner.

But then his fingers are skating from your cheek down to the top of your throat, his palm searing the column of your neck, rings digging into your skin as he has the lightest grip on you. Pulling you hard enough to have your head jerking, pain throbbing against his hand. Air whooshing from your lungs as your chests collide.

“You sure? You looked reaaal cozy next to your little boyfriend at lunch,” his mouth is inches from yours. Hot air puffing against your lips as he speaks.

You do your best to shake your head, eyes doe-like as you look up at him. “Not—my boyfriend,” you whine weakly.

Eddie hums, “does he know that? Do they all know that? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look that way, can’t blame me for thinking that you’re his girl,” his smirk is sinister, “and not mine. Like you claim to be.”

“Eddie, no.” You choke on a whine. Sounding just as pathetic as Claire did sobbing into her hands.

“Sound so pretty when you plead.” When he presses his lips to yours it’s rough—his other hand at the back of your skull to hold you to his mouth, putting more pressure into the kiss as his teeth nicking your bottom lip—you whimper against him. “Missed you too.”

A shared smile corrupted by your mouths and tongues.

You can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, when you and Eddie became a thing.

Maybe it was after the countless times you had given him dirty looks, had quick quips and snotty remarks hanging from the tip of your tongue and aimed at him in shared classes, passes in the hall, when you’d see him out in public.

The dishes of belittlement and cruel words matched between the two of you as he met you toe to toe with insults.

Until one day your mouth had gotten you in trouble, your only retaliation for the crown slipping from your head—from someone at a party actually seeing your true colors—was to grab a handful of some freshman’s hair. Her words hitting the underbelly of the rage inside of you. She had done the opposite of fucked off when you told her just how pathetically irritating she was, your words making tears stream down her face and all you wanted was for her to shut up.

You had blinked and then her face was in the dirt, you screaming above her, cruel words and threats releasing from your lungs. Your throat burning from the strain.

“Do you know your place now?”

Her head had shook, chest trembling as she cried around the dirt and grass. When you had finally let her go she had choked and spit out a clump of grass, cowering from you in fear. Sprinting around the corner of the house as quick as she could.

When you turned you didn’t expect to see Eddie Munson leaning against the siding of the house. He never came to parties, unless it was to sell a dime bag. His little lunchbox that was infamously known to house his drugs, nowhere in sight.

There was a smirk on his lips, “and here I thought you were all bark. No bite.” Your scowl made him hold up his hands in defense, “I’m sure she deserved it.”

“And if she didn’t?”

He shrugged, pulled out the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. Put one between his lips before lighting it, taking a puff and blowing it out. “Don’t they always deserve it? One way or another we all deserve a little reality check. A little cruelty. It humbles us.” He smiled, had stared at you for a beat, letting his eyes dance over the skimpy outfit you had been adorning.

It was weird to not have the fuming insults exchanged between the two of you, had made the air more stuffy and filled with tension. Had turned nothing into something. Paved the path of what the two of you were now.

“Does your little jock-pack know?”

“Know what?”

“How fucked up you are.”

The amusement on his face did the opposite of what you expected to feel when it came to the boy you chalked up as being just as irritating as everyone else in this town—something you should have known to be false the minute he didn’t hold back in the cruelty of his quips, when everyone around you would cower or kiss your ass when you would snip at them.

And if you really thought back to those moments, to the way he would off handedly say them to you, be completely unaffected by your bitchy words and remarks; the second he would bark back you’d feel a heat burning in you, a heat you chalked up to rage and added irritation but now know meant something completely different.

Something more fucked up and cynical that you probably should have walked away from that first night, should have threatened him and left. But instead you ended up with your skirt pushed up, his cock fucking into you roughly, fingers pushed in your mouth as he threatened you to shut up or he’d stop.

Something that didn’t stop happening. That kept happening. That you reached out for. That you craved and begged and pleaded for once you knew that Eddie was just like you.

A freak.

More than just the surface level of outcast.

Fucked up.

Had a void of darkness at the base of his skull like you, except he never let his show. Never let anger or annoyance cause random acts of violence. No he had control over himself.

Unlike you.

“Do mommy and daddy know how fucked up their perfect little girl is?”

“Mhm,” you had moaned around his cock one night, as you looked up at him through blurred eyes on your knees.

He smirked, “and they let you out of the house?” He teased, had grabbed the back of your neck in a tight grip. Pain shooting down your spine as he pulled you up to meet his mouth, “they have no idea what you’re capable of do they? No one does. But I do.” His rings dig into your chin as he grips it, holding you in place right below his mouth. “I see right through you, always have.”

“Do you like what you see?”

“Oh, I love it, sweetheart.”

-The way your back is arched, the way he’s leaning over you, has Eddie’s cock pistoning deep inside of you to the point of him having to cover your mouth to quiet your moans.

You can hear people walking around the parking lot outside, the two of you really should have drove off before you had found yourself in this position; before Eddie had all but shoved you into the back of his van, fucked you open with his fingers before bending you over and pressing you to the dirty floor of his van. The sounds of him spitting on his cock before he pushed into you roughly, the slapping of skin as he gripped, pulled, and dug his nails into your hips as he fucked you hard—all someone had to do was put their ear close to the walls of the van and you know they’d hear how wet you were, how fast and hard his hips were snapping against your ass, how even with his hand over you mouth you still sounded like a sobbing mess.

Eddie had been the only one you’ve been with who knew how to fuck you right. Who knew all the things you needed to hear to get off, the praising, the degradation, the filthy words that always haunted you hours, days, weeks after from how hard they had made you come—how much they made you throb.

While others were humbled with words and cruelty, you found humbling in letting your intrusive thoughts—anger and darkness—aim themselves onto those below you, those you found irritatingly unworthy of their own breath; Eddie using you as an outlet to take out those shared feelings. That darkness, that anger, those bad thoughts.

Where you bit Eddie barked.

Where you took out your cruelty on others, he took it out on your cunt.

It had been something unspoken between the two of you that started that night at the party. A bond that had the potential to be deadly, to maim, to feed each other’s darkness and turn them into grueling monsters that craved more feedings, more cruelty, more of the cynical love that blindsided you.

That made you more willing to bite the hand of those who only ever showed you kindness, but him meanness. To want to make them bleed for hurting him. To want to make them suffer for thinking they were above him when they were at the bottom of his shoe, pathetic, insufferable.

You know he’d never encourage you to do such things. Nor would he hold back from rewarding you for your restraint, or lack thereof when you made someone bleed or tore them down with your words.

“Did I take it too far?” You had asked him one night when you showed up at his doorstep, blood under your fingernails.

He had pulled you into his lap, palm cupping your cheek. “Are they still alive?” You nodded. “Mm, you should be rewarded for your restraint then.” His smile pressed into your lips as he pulled your mouth down on his.

And maybe the death glares he sent Andy every time he caught his arm around you, or when your little act seemed a little too real, like you weren’t just coming on his cock the night before, or devoting yourself to him—brought a sick happiness to your heart, that show of jealousy in his eyes, that rage that hid underneath, you wanted it to slip out, just once, for you, for Eddie to take revenge on the assholes of this town.

But maybe that’s what you were in his life to do.

Maybe everything did happen for a reason. You were put in this shit town to wreck havoc on the do-gooders, the true evil ones who didn’t appreciate him. Who didn’t see Eddie the way you did.

You were here to act out where Eddie couldn’t. Were here to be fucked, loved, and used by him—in the same breath you would kill for him.

“You love this don’t you? Love having me use you, like my personal little whore to use whenever I need it. To take my frustrations out on. No matter how much it hurts from how hard I fuck you, how deep I get. How many tears run down your cheeks, you love it don’t you? Love being my girl.” He had grunted in your ear one night after sneaking through your bedroom window.

And you did. You loved being his girl. Loved feeling like somebody saw you, wanted you, had you, got you. Having been in the darkness alone for so long, you finally had Eddie and you weren’t going to let him go for anything. Over anyone.

You’d put on your little sacrificial show to keep up your rouse. To stick to the status quo of fooling everyone, if it meant getting closer to them to hurt them where they’d hurt the only person who mattered to you.

And nothing beat the way Eddie made your body feel when he was fucking you. Your insides like molten lava, goo in his hands that he could mold and play with however he liked. You’d protect that feeling, these filthy moments together, always.

The weight of him at your back right now as your breaths heavy and heaving from your nose, making your sobs sound even more shaky. Your nails digging into the dirt stained rug that laid flimsy and almost useless in the back of his van. Your knuckles aching from your grip on the fibers. Knees burned raw from the hard movement of being fucked.

“Shh, you don’t want them to hear do you?” Eddie whispers in your ear, his grunts low and like gravel against your soaked core. “You wouldn’t want anyone to know you let the town freak fuck you in the back of his van. Wouldn’t want anyone to see through your little good girl façade. They’d think you were a slut, are you a slut?”

You can hear some girls' girlish laughter next to the van, can hear the thumps of sneakers and sandals against the pavement as everyone leaves the gymnasium and heads to their cars.

The thought of everyone catching the two of you, of finally figuring you out, to publicly announce your love for Eddie in the way of him fucking you like a rag doll, making your legs tremble as you begin to come.

“So fucking dirty,” Eddie grunts as your cunt clenches around him. “I love it.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #dark!eddie munson #joseph quinn smut #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #tw dark content

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nekumiho · 4 months

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persona 3 reload came out yesterday so Naturally i was obligated to finally do a finished piece with my silly velvet room attendants submas au. alt versions, lore info, and misc doodles under the cut o__o (attendant related p5 spoilers mentioned). also sorry for the eyestrain.

protags they attend to are Fellow Twins hilda and hilbert who always just get referred to as 'passenger(s)'. velvet room manifestation is the inside of a subway car, no i havent worked out what that symbolizes to hilda and hilbert, dont worry about it. but i think whether its visibly in motion or not wld depend on the protags' mental state, one side of the windows for hilda and one for hilbert. mostly dark empty with no visual movement outside the windows w/ maybe a flickering station light somewhere or a visibly blocked tunnel for when theyre feeling stuck in life, default would be like a well lit platform outside of the window with faceless shadow people walking around, how crowded it is depends on their progress with social links. high speed through the tunnels with their half of the car rocking violently when there's high stress super dire stuff going on, steady movement when theyre making progress with something, etc etc

their brassards HOPEFULLY translate to 'down' (χάμω) and 'up' (πάνω) in greek??? i wanted smth like caroline and justine's hats but also not The Same and uhhh yknow. persona 3 and greek mythology are pretty :handshake:.

i dont wanna steal margaret's eldest sibling clout so i think physically ingo and emmet would be younger than her but only barely. margaret is literally the only attendant i can see being physically over like 35 and i need sbms to be mid thirties at like the bare minimum. theyre highkey disturbed whenever lavenza willingly splits herself back into caroline and justine. weirded out by the other 'twins' in general bc they're not even Real twins. they gatekeep being twins. if anyone asks "so are you guys also just two halves of one person" it will be the most offensive thing you could ever say to them. elizabeth and emmet bully theodore together. ingo doesnt dislike theodore but just kind of forgets he exists because the twins are always being like "my brother, [name] (pauses and remembers theodore), i mean, ONE of my brothers,"

emmet is very :handshake: with elizabeth while ingo is very :handshake: with margaret. they both have their own fave sisters whoops. (sorry lavenza). in any sort of 'dancing game' scenario theyre both awkward as hell. very theodore core in general with emmet having some of the elizabeth vibes of just 'i am just never going to stop making random jerky body movements' ingo is a BIT more stiff. but like in general i think theo's way of life and elizabeth's aria of the soul have pretty good ingo and emmet vibes respectively. if i ever learn model editing beyond texture replacement its so over for my mmds.

i love igor dearly but i think since there are Two of them they can kinda handle stuff on their own while igor helps with Other persona protags in their respective rooms? emmet says shit like "YEAH FUCK IGOR THIS IS OUR LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!" and ingos like "emmet be nice thats still our boss and the only reason he let us be in charge is because hes busy".

ingo handles all persona fusion stuff and emmet does storage/organization/other misc stuff and gives you p3 elizabeth styled quests. they can both be social linked because i say so. emmet is justice arcana and ingo is judgement. emmets quests are the only way or at least the main way to increase your social link with him and if you dont finish one of his Special Request ones you lose your link with him. one of the special requests is to take him and ingo to see a real subway station 100% because theyve never seen one.

of all the other velvet rooms, they like the p4 one the most because the inside of the limo is the closest to the subway car they're familiar with but i think theyd like the p3 one too for the possible rocking motion of the elevator eternally going up

thats all i can think of right now i THINK thats everything??? so heres an original concept sketch,

and also a funny emmet quest moments doodle

oh yeah emmet really fucking loves jack frost because they have similar vibes. ingo, on the other hand, is a big pyro jack fan.

#submas #sbms #emmet #ingo #sbms au #nobori #kudari #smt persona #smt #o_____o #pokemon #kinda lol #eyestrain tw //////#bright colors tw /////#bright colours tw /////#eye strain tw ////

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dduane · 8 months

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Hi hi! Hope you are doing well! Would like to say I absolutely adore your works, and am very happy to have found you.

(Apologies in semi-advance for any grammatical or spelling errors, English is not my native language.)

I understand that you do not write Star Trek any more, and have not for some time, but I have a question regarding the spoken Vulcan that was seen in Spock's World. Particularly "Hwath ta-jevehih tak rehehlh kutukk'sheih nei ya'ch'euvh" seen on page 111, and "ekhwe'na meh kroykah tevesh" on page 227 (or at least in my copy). There are no translations or suggestions of such for either one. I was simply wondering what you were thinking they or what you believed they were expressing while writing it, if there was any. It has been on my mind ever since I read the book, and despite my best efforts, will likely continue to be unless addressed. If you have already answered this question elsewhere, then do direct me that way.

Regardless of your response, I would love to express my joy over the book as a whole. I read its entirety in a single day. Between how you crafted the worlds in such vividly visible detail and beauty, and the way you portrayed Sarek, Amanda, and Leonard, and frankly all of the characters, really made my day.

Thank you! :D

Hi there!

Since in the first one McCoy's discussing with Kirk how he learned Vulcan, and Kirk asks him whether he'd taken a "listening course" or a "speaking and listening" one, McCoy's response almost certainly means something along the lines of "Like I'd have had time for that while I was on leave!" (In any case. McCoy had taken a series of tailored messenger-RNA treatments to acquire basic fluency in the language.)

The p. 227 excerpt comes during McCoy's address to the population of Vulcan during the secession debates. Having said "Hell, no!" to the question of whether he approves of the concept, McCoy then asks pardon for slipping into his native idiom when he might "more correctly" quoted Surak by saying—and he says it in archaic and period-correct Vulcan— "Better even rude* truth than craven refuge in silence." (The kroykah in the Vulcan phrase, which we've heard canonically in ST:TOS s2e1, "Amok Time," is here used in its sense of "be still" or "be silent", with an inferred positive inflection from the "-'na", instead of "Stop" or "Cut that out right now".)

In both these cases I didn't translate because I wanted the reader to have a chance to experience the slightly-at-sea sensation then being experienced by the POV character. In both cases the meanings aren't necessarily going to be important to the reader, but the usage itself goes to the issue of the moment: that Vulcan is being spoken (a) relatively easily and (b) with significant effect.

I can't take credit for the technique. I picked it up from C.J. Cherryh, who as a language teacher is absolutely flawless in the way she handles alien languages in her work. Whether I pulled it off as well as she does is a judgment best left to the readership.

Meanwhile, thanks for the query! And I'm delighted you enjoyed the book. :)

*In the sense of "rough" or "ill-formed", not "impolite".

#Star Trek #Star Trek novels #Leonard McCoy #Spock's World

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kerizaret · 1 month

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Hello everyone and welcome once again to my brain! Today I want to ramble a bit about

✨️ Tsukasa and Rakunosuke (Emu's grandpa) parallels ✨️

Because I feel like we don't talk about them much. Or at all actually

Now, I'm not pulling this out of nowhere. It's quite literally stated at least once, outright, in the game, that Tsukasa is really similar to Emu's grandpa (or even twice – but the other time I'm unsure 100% whether its about Tsukasa specifically, which I'll get to later). That's not to mention the other little things throughout the stories that I think similar between the two

So here's just some thoughts I've had on the topic after rewatching some events, more or less cohesive

1) Tsukasa's PXL auditon & WMS speech

Starting at the very beginning, we've known ever since the wxs main story that there's something in Tsukasa that has drawn Emu in to him already the first time she's ever saw him, at his audition for PXL, which made her hire him herself. She says "found you" at that moment, as if she's been searching for someone exactly like him. Out of all the possible candidates who applied who she might've seen, why Tsukasa specifically?

It could be just about him boasting about making fantastic shows, which of course is a part of it. But I feel like this isn't all, that there was something else that she noticed, that maybe she didn't fully realise at that moment

Then later, in Wonder Magical Showtime, after Tsukasa's motivational speech, Emu specifically thinks back to that audition and how she felt something special there. And, most importantly, she thinks it as if she's talking to her grandpa – like he's somehow tied to it, to her realisation that Tsukasa is the one

Putting aside the fact they were fighting for Rakunosuke's park, which obviously makes Emu think back to him, there's something more. Emu doesn't think anything of the sort about Rui, even though he was the one who came up with the night show, or about Nene. Nor did she mention any kind of this strong feeling/conviction about having them on the Wonder Stage in the main story

She's focused on Tsukasa, because he's the one that brought all these people together and gave them the last push they needed to fight for PXL. He's the one they listen to, he who understands what this park was all about and why they need to save it. He's standing on the stage her grandpa built, looking at all those people working here, and he's leading them, telling them this dream CAN be made a reality and it's more important than anything else

And I feel like she could have looked at that and been reminded of her grandpa a bit, with how much he loved the park he built and brought people together with the same ideals and love and made dreams come true

2) Miles

Speaking of WMS, I'm sure we all remember Miles, the sorcerer Tsukasa played in the night show in WMS, and how he was a character very clearly based on Rakunosuke. It's not very surprising it's Tsks who got this role, but it's still interesting to me. It feels like no-one else would've been able to get this character right and neither would Emu as Shao with someone else playing Miles

I won't get into what "Miles" Tsukasa says in the play, because that's just the script and not a representation of Tsukasa himself, but I do want to draw attention to the specific scene where Emu's father is watching the night show and looks at Tsukasa, then says this:

This is the first time that – i suspect – Tsukasa is outright "stated" to be like Rakunosuke. Here I say "suspected" since I'm not 100% sure of it for two reasons. One of them being that as we know, the ensekai translation is sometimes often bad. For that I looked up the original text as well as an old translation of the event on YT to check for differences

The line ends up being similar in meaning, more or less, but a bit more vague. That also ties to my second doubt though, which is that Emu's father might be referring not to Tsukasa himself, per se, but rather to the character of Miles he's playing

I feel like both can make sense, in their own way (and the event is a Tsukasa focus for a reason, too), but for here I'm throwing it more as a hint than any kind of outright proof. Food for thought

3) Tsukasa and Rakunosuke's deams

Then, as we reach Popping in my Heart! and learn more of Rakunosuke from Riley's pov, there's another interesting thing that pops up. That is, the fact that Tsukasa and Rakunosuke share the same dream

And then, that's when Emu confirms what I've talked about before – that this whole time, she's felt something about Tsukasa being so reminding of her Grandpa

So Tsukasa has all this time "carried the same spirit" as Rakunosuke – which is possibly the reason why Emu has been feeling strangely drawn to him from the beginning

4) The Wonderland SEKAI

Hey. Hey. Remember this line?

(tl by tsukasa's #3 fan on YT)

Yeah, this one. The same reason why wxs even has "Wonderlands" in their troupe name

You know what else has Wonderland in its name?

That's right! Tsukasa's SEKAI!

Tsukasa's SEKAI. A different world that's created from his feelings, that's a place born from his desire to make everyone smile with his shows. A world that just recently expanded to include plushies representing all those different shows – different worlds – wxs created as a troupe. It's a world that Tsukasa, in a way, made by himself (albeit unconsciously)

Oh did I mention the Wonderland SEKAI is also, primarily, pre-wl, a theme park? With a big ass ferris wheel and several stages and a castle and a train and a merry-go-round, a rollercoaster and more? You know, kind of just like Phoenix Wonderland? Which was built by Emu's grandpa?

Do you ever think about that? That both Tsukasa and Rakunosuke "made" their own "Wonderlands"? That the SEKAI is so similar to PXL? Because I do

Anyway. Those were the main similarities or references I noticed, but I still have some few other miscellaneous thoughts i had aside from that that I'll sum up a bit quicker

Tsukasa and Emu's grandpa both care more about the shows (& pxl) themselves and the effect they have on people to make them smile than any kind of fame or recognition

A reminder, too, that despite the movie's popularity, nobody really knew that Rakunosuke worked on "Smiley" (or that it was even a Riley Entertainment movie at all)

There's also the fact that both tsks and rknsk get stuck more on the excitement they want their audiences to feel rather than on the technical sides or worries about how it would be possible – as seen with Rakunosuke convincing Riley to include all his dreams and ideas in "Smiley" without focusing as much on the budget and all to install that wonder in the viewers, and Tsukasa doing anything to perfect his acting, and also agreeing to most of Rui's stunts and experiments and production ideas as long as it gets the audience to become more immersed

I noticed as well that they're both people who wear their hearts on their sleeves, who easily get emotional and enthusiastic, who empathise a lot with the others' emotions and struggles, becoming happy when something good happens to them

^ he cried here. And later at the fan festa seeing nene sing confidently and happily he teared up again

And also just *gestures vaguely at pandemonium event and Rui's "tsukasa's friends' happiness is his own happiness" line*. Yeah

Most importantly, Tsks and Rknsk both care so, so much about shows ending with smiles and not tears

And overall about everyone smiling and being happy. Like Tsukasa telling Emu in the main story, on the ferris wheel, that when her grandpa meant making EVERYONE smile, it included Emu, too, and he wanted to make sure she's happy as well

There's also everything with Emu, too. The way she's very clingy with Tsukasa, always throwing herself at him (not that she isn't with everyone, but she does seem to jump at him the most often)

She's also implied to open up a bit more around him – in Smile of a Dreamer, when wxs expressed their worries about emu hiding her problems, KAITO implies that its unusual she "hasn't told EVEN Tsukasa"

And it's Tsukasa who first understood that, despite how it may seem that "she always is so optimistic and says whatever's on her mind", in the end "the bigger the problem, the less likely she is to talk" (paraphrased quotes from smile of a dreamer). And also underdstood what's the most important to her and how to give her a push to voice her worries to them

It's Tsukasa who Emu first got so scared of leaving their troupe and her behind

I simply feel like Emu is aware of the similarities her grandpa and Tsukasa share and, subconsciously, trusts him a lot and gets attached to him easily

Anyway. This is just a bunch of thoughts that came to mind that I wanted to share and hear your thoughts on maybe too. I love emukasa so much they have such a great dynamic, and I feel the implied similarities between Rakunosuke and Tsukasa add a lot to that too. I'm really curious if it'll be something they'll explore more in future events. Because I feel these parallels are there for some reason

#this might make sense or not #i just want to throw it out there #keri rambles #prsk #project sekai #wxs #tenma tsukasa #ootori emu #wonderlands x showtime #someone take these characters away from me or else

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diosapate · 2 months

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sorry this became an essay but on the topic of john as misogynist, i know there are obviously more blatant examples in htn and ntn (and admittedly i'm only halfway through htn) but at least to me, i felt the misogyny was there even in gtn with the way he describes his relationship with / treatment of cytherea during the epilogue?

it's a different form of misogyny than the open disdain and degradation leveraged at mercy, but to me “She was the very best of all of us. The most loyal, the most humane, the most resilient. The one with the most capacity for kindness. I made her live ten thousand years in pain, because I was selfish and she let me" reads as a classic example of female objectification in the direction of the mother / martyr figure.

cytherea is defined here by her goodness and how she benevolently and selflessly served others. even though john fully names and takes blame for the pain he forced her to endure, he also places the blame on her for letting him do it. he denies her boundaries, complexity, and autonomy except where it would absolve him of guilt (see also, the scene in htn where john insists the murders at canaan house only happened because boe corrupted her). i know ableism definitely factors in to this attitude and treatment, but i don't think her being a woman was a small part of it either.

never apologize for writing me asks i LIVE for this. but you are absolutely correct in that this also falls back on Cytherea; admittedly it has been a hot minute since i read GtN so i appreciate a fresher take on this!

but yeah you're hitting my personal nail right on the head. from the way the other lyctors talk about Cytherea it really does look like she was subject at least some of the boys' club that the Mithraeum seems to be—(once again, the women began outnumbered and ended outnumbered; i'd love to know more about Cassiopeia and what her dynamic with the rest of the group is, although we get a glimpse from how John talks about her when he admits that she called his shit out for being "appallingly vindictive." would love to know how this translated over after her resurrection? hoping and praying we get more about her in AtN.) though it is, as you say, different from what is leveled at Mercy, and we know these dynamics can absolutely manifest in different ways.

where Mercy is shrill and "unlovable," Cyth is "gorgeous" and she "loved them all" which... isn't exactly degrading on its face but subsequent "poor little Cyth" by Augustine is definitely condescending!! (as much as it is endearing, in a way. they contain multitudes.) but i think most blatantly this behavior comes from John almost... victim blaming her? we can talk in circles for hours and hours about whether or not he could actually cure her cancer but it still stands that whatever he was enabling in her, she was (heavy quotation marks) "letting him do it."

John's insistence that Cyth was corrupted and denying her agency in genuinely hating him is really where i started to doubt that he just fundamentally doesn't misunderstand everyone he considers a close confidant. we already know he's completely fumbled Mercy & Augustine and that's how he ended up the object of two nefarious threesomes and also, like, exploded, but he's misunderstanding that everyone wants him dead because they want him dead. his actions are all the fault of other people and he cannot fathom not being adored, needed, and liked.

#thank you for sending this to me it is very juicy <3 #anonymous #answered #cytherea the first #john gaius #the locked tomb #tlt meta #aust.txt #tlt

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keithbutgay · 3 months

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vat7k headcanons?

oh my gosh my time has come (you will probably regret this)

so first off imma reference my like three other posts i've made on the topic because i'm a nerd

starting with lgbt+ headcanons-

hugo is genderfluid and likes men i don't make the rules (he/she/they)

i am very much a trans varian truther. in my mind they use he/they pronouns and is also very biromantic

transing nuru's gender too- i love transfemme nuru (she/her) and also she's a lesbian definitely

yong gets the aroace nonbinary treatment

okay moving on to headcanons about languages-

its canon that varian speaks like three languages but i headcanon that he is fluent in coronan, saporian, and is learning the dark kingdom's language

hugo definitely knows so many languages because he gets around. i like to think he's fluent in ingvarran, coronan and bayangoran

i love the idea that yong is still learning coronan and that hugo sometimes has to translate for him or they repeat things for him sometimes because varian talks too fast or they use an unfamiliar word or like accents trip him up

on a seperate note in my mind coronan is german, bayangoran is mandarin, ingvarran is farsi (based on this post)

one of my favorite possible vat7k storylines is when hugo finds out about varian's past and i love the idea that he found out because of a wanted poster they found- perfect angst potential. on that note, i also believe that the rest of them would have heard about varian (the alchemist) when he was still wanted for example

hugo would have been told about him from donella, whether he was always told to be better and be like varian, or that he admired varian and thought he was really cool and dreamed of working with him

nuru had heard about him through horror stories about the kidnapping and attempted murder of the royal family. she most likely would have been scared of varian when she found out, not trusting him not to hurt her

i honestly think yong wouldn't understand. i don't think his parents would have told him if they even knew, and he would have been like seven at the time, so

hugo was varian's bi awakening except not really. he had liked guys before that but hadn't realized that was what he was feeling

they definitely met cass while on their adventures and she definitely had a girlfriend

ruddiger and prometheus hate each other

hugo is extremely jealous of ruddiger as well. ah yes him, his boyfriend, and his boyfriend's raccoon that's taking up all his attention

firmly believing in hugo showing up one day with period products because he might be a loser but he's not a jerk and nuru not knowing how to tell him she's trans while varian (also not out) comes up and just takes the pads being like 'thanks i needed these'

varigo-

t4t obviously

also they're both neurodivergent i dont make the rules

they hate each other but like not

like in the sense that, if they were asked if they liked each other, they would be like ew gross no i hate this man

and then at the end of the conversation varian kisses hugo on the cheek and is just like see you at home babe and everyone is like w h a t

they argue nonstop, to the point of being violent, and then someone changes the subject and hugo's in varian's lap

obsessed with that one au where they were in prison together

also obsessed with hugo dropping the piano on eugene's head

this entire post

might add to this later but here you go have fun!

#vat7k #varian and the 7 kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms #varigo #hugo vat7k #varian vat7k #nuru vatk #yong vat7k

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cinnamoodles · 10 months

Text

the language of flowers — part one, daises

warnings: angst, of course, and bad writing? ooc anthony bc i suck and thats unwarranted <33

word count: 1.8k (wowza)

author’s note: hello! this is my first published fic, so im pretty sure it’s going to be horrible, but i had this idea after reading Sherlock Holmes, so… im excited, i guess? this is part of a series i will publish, but for now... yay! first fic celebration!

read the other parts! — part two, irises | part three, peonies

i don’t consent for my work to be reposted or copied, translated, or transferred to any other platform, or this one, in part or whole.

--------- . . . ---------

i. 1802, bellis perennis. daisies, platonic love

It was a day in which the sun blazed as though it had a fury against all of England, the sweltering heat resulting in most of the country to stay indoors, and perhaps enjoy a cool glass of lemonade. The unforgiving rays of the sun shone glitteringly on the lake, as if to mock those who stayed inside, flamboyantly displaying its beauty.

Anthony Bridgerton was a boy, (or a man, as he liked to proclaim himself, as he was just a year from being eighteen), who did not like to stay inside, especially on a glorious day like this. He liked to forget the matter that it was well over 35 degrees celsius, but in his words, such a beautiful, sunny day should not go to waste.

“Why have you dragged me out here, Mr. Bridgerton?” You groan against the thick coat of your own horse. As the only daughter of a Duke with three sons, you had to dress up prim and proper, much to your chagrin, before going out, especially with a boy, whether it be one of your closest friends or not. You run your hands through your hair—which you've left open, because, in your words, damn society, no single person should be subject to those horrid pins in their hair on a hot summer's day!, before you stormed out of your estate, to head to the stables to find solace in one of your most trusted companions.

He grins, sending a flutter of butterflies amok in your stomach. Deep inside, you knew that there was no way that he would ever even consider you romantically, as you were exactly the age of his brother, Benedict, who, no doubt, was ever the charmer, but Anthony had a special place in your heart. Your first love, (could one even call it love? You would often dismiss it as infatuation, but when he looked at you like that, how could your youthful little heart disregard it?), and most of all, your first friend. “Well,” he starts, “first of all, you can cease the formalities, or I’ll push you off your horse.” He leisurely rides up next to you, smirking. “And there isn’t any harm in calling on my closest friend for a few hours of her time, is there not?”

“Of course not, but you know how my mother hounds me,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing the nape of your neck. “It is almost as if…” reddening, you bite your lip. You knew that your mother was always on a tirade on how you and Anthony would be perfect together, but you know that he did not feel the same way. You sneak in a gaze at his soft dark hair, and his gorgeous, deep brown eyes, always glimmering with mischief of some sort.

He turned to you, frowning. “As if? She hasn’t got a problem with me, has she?”

Your eyes widen, and you quickly backtrack on your words. “No! No, of course she hasn’t got a problem with you, she’s just a bit… spirited, that’s all. Just very spirited and a woman very worried about what society has to say about me—not that I care, of course.”

“Just let her know that I’m most definitely not giving up my friendship with you just because of the nonsense the Ton spews on an hourly basis.” You give an extremely unladylike snort at his words, which sends the both of you into a fit of laughter.

The both of you finally reach the site that Anthony must have wanted to show you. It’s a corner beside the lake, with a patch of wildflowers and a small woodland area behind it. The sunlight shines onto the surface of the lake, and small dragonflies lazily float around the flowers. What entrances you most is the flora near the area. While, of course, you've seen flowers before, since your own father boasts one of the most intricate gardens in London, there isn’t any garden that could hold a candle to the natural beauty, the wild, untamed, disorderly allure of this particular strip of land. Fireweed and cattails rub against the agrimonies and bellflowers, and you have to physically stop yourself from letting your jaw drop and stare at the scene in front of you.

The dark-haired boy enthusiastically gets down from his horse, rubbing his eyebrow, and holds his hand out to your stunned self. You bite back a smirk when you notice his actions, and steady yourself against his glove. “I don’t need you to do all this,” you tease. “I can get down from a horse just fine by myself.”

“Really?” He smirks. “Alright then.” Letting go of you abruptly, he wipes off his hands on his breeches, while behind him, you trip to the ground, dust pooling and clouding around you, and you land on your ankle.

“Ow!” You shriek, your hands scratched from the rough, gravelly grass. You examine your ankle, which is slightly swollen and red, along with giving you large, throbbing pains. “Anthony, you’re such a prick!” You steady yourself against a tree trunk when he turns around and sees you, in pain. He quickly rushes to your side, steadying you by placing his hands on your hips, and you try, (and fail), to ignore your heart working on overdrive. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Really, I didn’t know it would hurt you, I didn't know you were that high up.”

“What do you know, then?” You grumble, trying to hold weight on your foot. When you wince, Anthony immediately carries you in his arms in a bridal hold, and you have to take all the willpower you have to not stare at his biceps, or worse, swoon right there. “Anthony! Put me down!” You cry, halfheartedly, your inner thoughts wishing that he wouldn’t listen to a word you said. “If you drop me, I swear I will hurt you.”

“Y/N,” he smiles at you, “trust me, I know better than to cross you by now.” He readjusts his hands, and one of them, (you’re too frazzled to notice which), lands on the small of your back, and you are sure that you will combust within a second if he keeps this up. “And,” he continues, “I haven’t dragged you all the way here just so you can go home. And trust me, you're not heavy at all.” He smirks, raising one of his hands so that you can see it, and taps your nose.

“Anthony—oh god—what the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Proving you haven't got anything to worry about. Don’t worry, darling.” The word sends a shiver down your spine, and the moment just seems so perfect: you, in his arms, his dark, dreamy eyes gazing into your own, his breath hot on your cheek. He smells of sandalwood and citrus—the same smell that haunts you day and night, in your dreams and nightmares.

You relax into his arms, and are snapped out of your daze only by the soft brush of something against your nose—petals? You open your eyes to a grinning Anthony, tapping your face with a hastily bundled bunch of flowers.

“Anthony,” you frown, “I was relaxing. Do not forget that you caused my devastating injury.” You pout, widening your eyes and biting your lips, trying to play the fact that you’re merely an innocent bystander of his tomfoolery. He sighs, and waves the flowers in front of your face.

“That is precisely what this is for, you hypochondriac—ow! Sorry! I picked you flowers, because you're so microscopic that I can carry you with one hand.” He gently placed you down on a gravelly stone bench, among the wildflowers and its concomitant insects, hurriedly putting a bouquet of flowers in your hand.

Daises.

The Guide for Flora for Debutantes: Resplendent in its simplicity, the daisy's tender white petals encircle a sunny heart, a poignant reflection of the chaste and enduring affection shared amongst esteemed companions of a non-romantic nature. The suitor that gives this flower to you may not desire to pursue a romantic relation, but shows no ill will towards you, and would in fact like to continue a relationship based purely on friendship.

Your mind flashes to a paragraph in one of your least-loved books, but one your governess insisted you study. Perhaps he didn’t mean to give you these gut-wrenching, heartbreaking flowers, flowers that left your soul shattered on the ground, due to your dramatics. Men, in particular, were never very observant when it came to flowers. “Well, there might be a privilege to being microscopic then,” you smile, feigning delight. “Say,” you gaze up at Anthony’s eyes, “what made you pick these particular ones? Is there anything special about daises?”

“Er, no…” Anthony frowned. “They were the only ones that looked nice enough to give to you. The others looked like weeds, if I am being completely forthright.” You stifle a laugh, and perhaps there indeed was no symbolism behind the flowers the gave you, nothing other than fate.

As you settle on the stone bench, your ankle throbbing slightly, you peer at the bouquet of daises now cradled in your hand. The delicate blossoms seem to mirror the delicate dance of emotions within your heart, or so your heart believes. Anthony's actions have always been a mixture of exasperating and endearing, and this moment is no different.

"Anthony," you say, suppressing a smile, "your chivalry knows no bounds, it seems." He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Ah, my dear, a gentleman's duty is to come to the rescue of a damsel in distress, is it not?" You roll your eyes with a playful sigh, though your heart flutters at his words. There's a familiarity between you that goes beyond mere friendship, a connection that has woven itself over years of shared experiences. But society's expectations and the complexities of your own heart keep those feelings hidden beneath the surface.

"Are you suggesting that I am in distress, Mr. Bridgerton?" you retort, raising an eyebrow. His smile widens, and he takes a seat beside you on the bench.

"Perhaps not in distress, but certainly in need of a flower-bearing rescuer." He quips, gently nudging your shoulder. You both share a laugh, the tension that briefly hung in the air dissipating like morning mist. There's a sense of ease in his company that you've never found elsewhere, a comfort that stems from him, merely his presence.

A sense of home—of love, and for now, it did not matter if he didn’t feel it, but the warm feeling that enveloped you was merely your own to enjoy.

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