#precious book i have been waiting all day and now it is time to READ

[channiechxn]

Small Book Trope: Hyung Line

Non!Idol Stray Kids x Reader

Hello everyone! I don't post much but this little idea came to mind when I was on vacation! I hope everyone likes these little drabbles! Enjoy!!

Bang Chan

Chris sighed as he closed the door to your shared apartment. “I’m home.” He muttered while taking his shoes and sweatshirt off. It had been a long day of work and he was ready to settle into his well deserved vacation. The two of you decided to turn your phones on airplane mode and just spend the week lounging around and enjoying each other's company. 

Soft music played from the end of the hallway. He made his way to the bedroom, his muscles slowly releasing the tension built up knowing he was so close to being in your arms. He had to bite back a laugh when he saw you. Your jaw dropped slightly as you turned page after page, reading the climax of the book. He stood there for a minute before breaking the silence, “Whatcha reading, love?” 

You jumped up, almost losing your place. You glared at him, “Jesus, Christopher! Don’t scare me like that! Announce yourself next time.” 

“Actually, I did. You were just too immersed in your book to hear me.” He laughed as he began to strip, changing into more comfortable clothes. 

You playfully pouted before marking your place. “It’s not funny.” 

“Yes it is. Look at you, you want to laugh at yourself.” He said slowly crawling up the bed. You hummed with a small smile before putting the book to the side, opening your arms wide so he could lay down on your stomach. 

You began running your fingers through his hair. Smiling at the satisfied groan. “I missed this. I missed you.” He said after a few moments of silence, placing soft kisses on your stomach. “I waited all day to have you in my arms.” He continued as he shifted in your grasp, slowly inching up to your breast. “I waited all day to feel you.” Blush creeped up your neck as he began to kiss your collarbone. “I waited all day to kiss you.” You groaned as he claimed your lips. Chris smirked as he pulled you down to be underneath him. “Now, I get to have you all to myself for a week.”

Lee Know

You giggled as Soonie once again headbutted your book. “Excuse me, I’m reading that.” You said to the cat before going back to the page. The enemies were finally confessing their love for each other in the most angsty way and there was no way in hell you were waiting until later to read it.

Minho watched you out of the corner of his eye as he began folding down some of the empty boxes, leaving a few for the cats to play in. It took a good couple weeks after he had asked you to move in, to actually move you in. Work was keeping the both of you busy so when the day came that you both had a day off together, you jumped at the opportunity to grab the moving truck. 

As expected, you had unboxed the few boxes that contained your most precious items, your books. He never fully understood what the obsession is but he found it cute when you would try and explain the story’s plot to him. He smiled when you yelled out Soonie’s name as he moved the boxes by the door. “Min, what are you doing? I thought we agreed to leave those for tomorrow so the cats could play.”

“I left a few.” He replied before heading to the kitchen to start on dinner. He glanced to the side as he head your soft footsteps behind him.

“Mm Min,” you began as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “You worked so hard to help me move in. Why don’t we order in and I can tell you all about my book.”

He leaned into your touch. “I like the sound of that. If I sit there and listen can I have some dessert?”

“Celebratory dessert? I like the sound of that.  What were you thinking?” You asked, looping your arms around his neck as he turned around to face you. 

“I was thinking you.” He laughed as you playfully punched his chest, hiding your blush.

Changbin

“Changbin…” you sighed. You looked at him with concern as he gave you his cute smile. “I don’t know about this, honey.” 

“It’ll be fine! I promise I can handle it if you think you’re gonna be too heavy.” Your frown deepened. You were scared about that, especially knowing your body leaned a little more to the bigger side. Your boyfriend wanted to work out and you wanted to read, but because of how little time you’ve been together, he came up with the idea that you sit on his back and read as he did push ups. Changbin took your face in his hands before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s just try it, please? If I start hurting I promise to tell you.”

You placed your hands over his and pouted slightly. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He placed one more kiss on your forehead.

You groaned. “Fine. Let me go grab my book.” You laughed as he let out a noise before yelling that he’ll set things up. By the time you came back in, he had a mat set up, water and some snacks for you. “Been planning this for a while?” You asked, shocked at the set up.

He nervously laughed as blush crept up his neck. “Maybe.” He said shyly. “Anyway! I’m gonna get in a push up position and when I give you the go ahead, you’re gonna sit on my back.” You gave him another nervous look. He sighed. “Baby, I promise to tell you if anything is going wrong.” You sighed before motioning him to get into position. You giggled as he did a few push ups for a warm up before getting as low as he could.

You hesitantly sat on his back cross legged. “How are you feeling?” You yelped as he began his exercise. You waited a few before beginning to pick up where you left off. 

-

You were really getting into the characters betrayal when you heard panting. You got off immediately and went to grab his water. You frowned as you took in Changbin’s state. He was on his back, catching his breath. Sweat dripping down his face. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were getting to your pushing point?”

Changbin gave you a tired smile, sitting up and taking the water you held out to him. “It was a good burn. Did you not enjoy it?”

You took a seat next to him, looking at how much reading you had done. You managed to get a good amount done. “I did. It was nice to have actually spent some time with you. I would just prefer to sit somewhere else next time though.” Changbin’s face began to burn as he smirked at you. You gave him a confused look before hiding your face in embarrassment. “Get your mind out of the gutter!” You sunk further as he laughed.

Hyunjin

Silence surrounded the two. The only noise being made was the turn of pages. To anyone else, you would look like a normal human being enjoying a good book. To Hyunjin, you looked like an angel. An angel he called his. You were his muse. He found inspiration in just about everything you did. Whether that be bringing flowers home, the desserts you would make with Felix, or just lounging about. This was one of those times. 

He sat across from you on the couch, sketch book in hand. He sat there drawing you from every angle he could capture. He would make faces if he didn’t capture something right. He wanted this, you, to look perfect. Just like he saw you. Absolutely downright beautiful.

After finishing yet another chapter, you grabbed your bookmark to finally stretch your limbs. You looked over at Hyunjin when he whined. “What’s wrong?”

“You moved.” He replied as he erased a part of the sketch that made him unhappy.

You raised an eyebrow before moving toward him, your joints cracking on the way. Before you could peek at his sketchbook, he quickly turned it away from you. This shocked you. “You’re not gonna let me see it? You always let me see your drawings.”

“Not right now. I’m not done. It has to be perfect.” You hummed. You’ve never seen him this determined on a sketch before. You muttered an ‘okay’, moving to the kitchen to grab a few glasses of water. You cursed as you tried to get a look at the book, Hyunjin skillfully evading it from your view. 

You sighed as you walked back over. You gave him a kiss on top of his head before setting the water down. He muttered a ‘thank you’ before watching you settle back into your spot, immediately grabbing your book. You watched him with slight curiosity before diving back into your book.

-

You closed your finished book, tiredness seeping it away behind your eyes. You yawned and snuggled into the couch before looking at Hyunjin. He looked between you and the sketch book before moving closer to you. “Thank you.” He muttered as he placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

“For what?” You asked, tiredness present in your voice as you held your arms out for him. He quickly accepted the invitation, shifting you around until you laid on top of him. He placed a kiss on your head before grabbing the sketchbook. Your eyes widened as you took the picture in. It was of you reading. Your hair flowing beautifully around your face, your features delicately drawn into the page. You hardly recognized yourself. If anything, Hyunjin made you more beautiful. “Hyune, this is beautiful.”

He widely smiled. “It’s my favorite piece of inspiration you gave me.”

“You’ve definitely captured me a lot prettier than I am.” You said quietly as you gently traced the outline of your face.

“No, I don’t think so.” You turned to look at him as he took the book from you. “I captured perfection, a muse. My muse. This is what I see everyday when I wake up next to you.” 

Tears began to cloud your eyes as you looked at the sketch again. “I love you, you know that?”

He kissed a tear away. “And I love you a thousand times more.”

Taglist: @yxngbxkkie @mxnsxngie

#stray kids imagine

[books-and-dragons]

waterstones special edition of the chalice and the gods i love you

#books talks #LOOK AT THE SPRAYED EDGES #They aren’t on the top or bottom which big sad come on waterstones do better #BUT STILL #pjo #percy jackson #the chalice and the gods #precious book i have been waiting all day and now it is time to READ #i’ll be back and very extra unnormal in a couple of hours #not sorry for the inevitable reblog storm #also yes the nails are blue no it wasn’t intentional but i love it nonetheless #last time i was like this about pjo on tumblr it was boo i'm p sure #also getting this from the mailman was so sweet!! #he was like 'i've been delivering a lot of those (gestures to my waterstones parcels) the past few days- something happen?' #OH YES IT DID #did i intend on posting a fic before i let myself read tcotg? yeah but also lazy and the book is RIGHT THERE

[reiderwriter]

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏

Chapter 1 of That's What You Get

Next Chapter

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨

Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.

You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.

“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.

“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.

“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”

“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”

“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”

“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.

“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.

The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.

“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.

“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.

“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.

“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.

You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.

“Mom, hey, what’s up?”

“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.

“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”

“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.

“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.

“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”

“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.

“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”

You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.

“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”

“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.

“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”

“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”

“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”

“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.

Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.

“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.

“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.

“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.

“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”

“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”

“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

–x–

Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.

“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.

“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.

“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”

“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.

“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”

“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.

“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”

“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.

“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”

You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.

So because it was him, you decided to talk.

“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.

“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued

“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.

“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”

“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.

“How come?”

“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.

“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”

“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”

“You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”

“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”

“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”

“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.

“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.

“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.

“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”

“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”

“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”

“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”

With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.

–X–

The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.

Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.

That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.

Fuck.

There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.

There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.

Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.

“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”

That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.

“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.

“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.

“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.

Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.

“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.

“Y/N I think we got married last night.”

For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.

“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.

Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.

Your husband.

You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.

“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.

“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.

“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.

“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.

But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.

“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.

“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.

“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.

“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”

“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.

“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”

He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”

Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.

“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”

“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.

🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #maturereiding #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #Criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid drabble #matthew gray gubler

[kaiser-author-san-iii]

Star Light, Star Bright | Fatui Harbingers x (Fem)Creator!Reader

A/N: holy Tsarista, I did not think that it would be this popular. Thank you so much!! It's been a couple months since I got into Genshin, but I'm glad that the Harbinger trailer dropped cause otherwise, this probably wouldn't have existed lol. I apologize for the late update. I have been quite stumped in the plot and just taking a moment to come up with one. If I didn't tag everyone, I'm sorry! DM or reply to be added to the taglist! :3

Summary: Caring for children is hard, but it's especially hard when around the Fatui. Getting isekaied was the last thing on your mind after landing in the icy tundra of Snezhnaya all while your nephew is with you. What will happen when you encounter not only a Fatui Skirmisher but a Fatui Harbinger?

Tags/warnings: female reader, God!reader, Cult AU,

Not edited or beta read, we die like Signora.

First>> Next>>

Masterlist>>

Chapter 2: The Creator's Welcome

Silence.

What could be said while the entire palace and the surrounding area waited with bated breath for their Grace to awaken?

They were fervent - they waited to leave and search for the "meaner" that has done harm to their Beloved but that would leave their Previous Grace with only the Heir for company and guard.

The Precious Heir - they have heard of them only from what was written centuries ago. He was beautiful - he was innocent and was crying for their Grace to wake up all while the Harbingers stood by with the Tsarista finally making her appearance, rushing towards the bed that their Grace rested in, bending the knee and holding their hand.

"Your Grace. Your Excellency. Oh, my Beloved Creator. What has that Meaner done to you?"

Nugget never left your side as he clutched onto your waist, but being careful with your arms as he was told by the blue-haired man with the mask. He was a doctor and clearly knew what he was talking about so the little one made sure to listen well. The Doctor man and the others gave them a room which is what his Auntie expected and though he was focused more on taking care of you, it was nice to wander around the room all while the Harbin Gingers (It was some word that he had trouble saying) always came to check on him and his auntie and even gave him coloring books and sweets and fruits. It was all so good and he made sure to save you some whenever you were going to wake up.

But he especially loved the Tsarista and Columbia (Colombina)

They were very nice. They held him when you were still asleep and he couldn't be there for the operation.

For what seemed like forever, when it was only a matter of four days, the bed shifted as Nugget was reading the latest book that the guy with the funny hat gave him. He wanted to read it to you when you woke up and his wish was soon coming true as he felt movement and looked over to see your [E/c] eyes. He gasped and immediately snuggled into the sheets and wrapped his small arms around your waist.

"Auntie! You're awake! You're awake!"

Soft wet globs of tears started to stain your shirt as you looked down at the child who held you tightly and didn't want to let go. It would have been endearing if it wasn't for the fact that you had almost died from possible blood poisoning from ignoring your wounds. Your Nephew remembered seeing a lot of gold and despite still learning, he knew for a fact blood was red.

Carefully holding him up and ruffling his hair, you kissed his forehead and wiped his tears away.

"I'm sorry I made you worry, Nugget. I promise, I'll be sure to look after myself but my main concern was you."

That response earned a pout but your nephew thought it was good enough for now. If you weren't healthy and in one piece, how are you supposed to find a husband or a wife?!

"Just don't go to sleep anymore or at least for a long time. You made everyone worry!"

"Everyone?"

At the mention, your Nephew saw the clear confusion on your face and smiled brightly, but with a glint of mischievousness as he swiftly, with his small feet could go, hopped out of bed but careful to stay clear from your arms, rushed to the door and yelled out.

"Auntie [Y/n] is awake!" he said with a bright smile that was quite contagious, but it was last minute that you saw a figure by the door, or make it two figures. They had hoods over their head but it was the masks that covered their identities - the sheer happiness was clear from their body movements and one of them rushed out to who knows where while your nephew ran back to your side and started to share all the books he's read while you were recovering.

He's always had trouble reading so it was a feat itself to see him now reading at his supposed grade level. He still had trouble with certain words but nothing to worry about.

While trying to process all that was happening around you, you heard multiple footsteps before the door flew open, and in walked in about a dozen people.

Your face heated up at seeing all the gorgeous faces quickly surround you, pulling your nephew close to your side, weary of what else could happen. But you could have sworn that there was a hint of sadness in their eyes from your pull away from them.

"Don't be scared. They helped us! They helped you! Especially the Doctor man." Your nephew grinned as he held your hand and decided to make you sit up and face the group properly and pointed at the Doctor. The Doctor that he mentioned was practically preening from the praise like a peacock showing off its feathers.

The grip on his hand lessened as you looked at all twelve people one by one. It didn't take a rocket scientist to distinguish the power that they all radiated. Though at the time, you didn't know of the power you held yourself.

The elegant lady with long white hair, icy blue eyes, and who seemed to scream 'Ice Queen', slowly walked up to your bedside with a gentle smile as her hand moved to slowly hold yours. Now, you wouldn't have minded if it was your nephew or family, but this was a stranger. A stranger with a very firm grip despite how delicate it was.

"Now. How shall we punish the meaner that's done this to you?"

Eh?

-x-

It was... a change to have people cater to your every whim despite half of them being just jokes like bringing you the finest gem. The honor of bestowing such a gem was by none other than the 9th Harbinger, Pantalone.

Your nephew was having a great time, especially when he got to get along with a majority of the Harbingers and the Fatui, who took the mission of entertaining Nugget very seriously.

Once your arms were good as new, you asked for the group of Fatui soldiers that you and your nephew first encountered. At first, they were adamant about having you and Nugget leave the palace but you needed to get back to your car and get the rest of your things.

But funnily enough, you don't remember a palace or an organization going by the Fatui in your life...

Not to mention, these people seemed to recognize you and your nephew despite you two not knowing any of them.

If you thought of it more, a headache occurred and the Tsarista was adamant in asking you to save your energy and that it didn't matter if you recognized them. That all that mattered was that you and the Heir were fine.

While bedridden, your Nephew had the privilege to waltz around like he owned the place and even got you some books to read in the meantime. You saw mentions of a Divine Creator, a God-like figure that was first in creating the world around you and beyond, the one that made the stars and skies. A Divine Creator from the Beyond gave life to a speck in the skies and named it Teyvat and thus, its first child was born.

During a certain period when the Creator was roaming freely, they announced that their sister was with child and so, the Creator named the unborn babe the Heir to Teyvat.

The book was quite the read and wanting to know more about why the people around you and Nugget called you the Divine Creator and the Heir, you took it around with you.

"Your Grace, you must bundle up. Snezhnayan winters are quite brutal. People freeze to death here, quite literally in fact." announced a Fatui sniper, the one that first saw you and Nugget as he came behind you and placed a coat, courtesy of Pantalone of course, on your shoulders and your nephew too.

Stepping out to the brutal snow, instead of the harsh snow that you were expecting, it was a light snowfall that shocked the group of Fatui that decided to travel with you.

[Nephew's Name] stepped out from behind you and cheered happily as he rushed out to the snow and started to play, making snowmen and snow angels with, of course, the Fatui looking out and being won over by the child's heart-felt giggles.

They were all trying to make sense of why the snowfall was reduced to just light snow instead of the blizzards they're used to until they recalled that their Divine Grace and the Heir were right here with them. Teyvat was the Divine Creator's first child and as the loyal child it was, it could always sense where they were. Though Snezhnaya was the domain of the Tsarista, the Cryo Archon, the Divine Creator's word was Law.

Ehe.

Everything came to a slow stop as the world first heard the giggle from the Creator and with each step that you had taken, noticeable patches of green started to appear and grow more and more. The chilled winds of winter called down as the grey skies parted to make way for the rays of the sun.

The Tsarista felt the pause of winter, looking out that the frozen lands of her region have warmed up to what it had been long ago before her ascension.

Her Grace has given warmth back to the frozen tundras of Snezhnaya to the point that the flora and fauna basked in the sunlight. "Nugget. Be careful. The snow is melting."

And like that, the snow stopped melting just enough for your nephew to enjoy making snow angels.

'Welcome to Teyvat, Divine Creator!'

TAGLIST:

@lizzhearthz, @yoshikuno , @anonclyde , @khalhaimdad, @ellenoir

@yunsblog030 , @lsleepysimpl, @potol0ver, @kitty-chan33

#genshin self aware #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #Harbingers x reader #Fatui harbingers #genshin cult au #sagau #Dottore x reader #Pantalone x reader #Scaramouche x reader #Childe x reader #Capitano x reader #Coloumbina x reader #Sandrone x reader #Pierro x reader #female reader #Signora x reader

[aurasplanet]

TEACH YOU A LESSON carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, repost of an old fic because i feel bad for depriving you guys, overstimulation, ruined orgasm, jerking off, oral (m!receiving), sub!carl

it got on your nerves how all of a sudden a new girl comes to the school and your boyfriend is all over her. maybe you're overreacting, but he's still spending too much time with her for your liking. the two of you have barely spent time together the past few days.

that brings you to now. sitting outside next to ron. you were in your normal spot, right next to where carl was supposed to be sitting. instead he was teaching enid how to use a gun, which the girl was already clearly an expert at.

the worst part, he was way too close. arms around her close, ignoring her murderous glare.

but what really caught your attention is the way he was looking at you. you've been with carl so long that you can read him like an open book. he was doing this to get a reaction out of you. soon after he was making his way back to your spot, but you don't even give him time to sit down.

you grab his arm and stand up, "let's go."

"go? where?" it didn't take a genius to recognize the suggestive tone in his voice. but you didn't answer him, just took his hand to lead him to his house.

he would say snarky things while you walked even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. "cat got your tongue?"

you whip around and grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down harshly. "i don't know what you were hoping for but trust me carl, you're not getting it."

the smirk on his face drops but quickly returns. "punishment or not, you're gonna fuck me."

he was right, you did. but here the boy is now, squirming on his bed on the edge of his third orgasm and you showed no signs of stopping. it was a sight to see truly, his head thrown back, legs quivering. your hand was working on his cock in slow motions.

"please, please, please."

you giggle, speeding up slightly causing the boy's mouth to drop open. "please, what baby?" he didn't answer you, all he did was grab your arm and whimper.

you pout in faux sympathy, "want me to stop?"

his grip on your arm got tighter and he leaned forward, guiding your hand to make sure you didn't "no!"

a sadistic smirk finds its way to your lips, something popping in your head that would guarantee carl never stepping out of line again. maybe it was a little harsh, your heart clenching a little at your precious boyfriend. he'd already apologized and was doing so good.

but it would teach him a lesson.

you continue pumping him, speeding up a little and nearly laugh when 'thank you's repeatedly fell from your boy's lips. you truly can read him like an open book, so you could tell when he was about to cum. you wait until the moment he was about to and pulled away, ruining it for him.

tears spring his eye at the dull feeling, "why?" he whimpers, head lifting off the pillow to look at you before falling back in desperation.

maybe you felt a little bad, but you also really liked it. "i'm sorry baby, was that mean?" he nods, pretty tears falling from his eye. your hand wraps around him again and he jolts, pushing it away.

"oh, you don't want me to finally give you what you want?" his eyes widen,

"no, i do! please," you smile at him and lower yourself on the bed.

once your mouth is level with his cock you look up at him again, "you sure you can take it baby?"

he nods, "mhm, i'll be good. promise."

he nearly sobs when you take him in your mouth, sucking on his tip lightly. you watch his reactions and wonder how someone could be so pretty when they're a mess. you lower your head, attempting to take him all in your mouth no matter how difficult it may be. you wanted to see just how wrecked he could get.

his hand finds its way to your head, not pushing, just tangling in your hair while he looks down at you in ecstasy. when you start bobbing your head it's obvious he won't last longer. he finishes down your throat with something between a moan and a groan.

"i hope this teaches you a lesson carl."

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #twd oneshot #twd imagine #twd smut #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x fem!reader

[leqonsluv3r]

hi! hope you’re doing well <3 so this past months i have been feeling really bad and going to the doctor he said one of the possibilities would be cancer (im scared as fuck) so could you write some hcs about how leon would deal with it? i guess im just searching for some comfort since im a little scared lol i love your write hope you have a great day <3

trepidation

—leon!kennedy x reader, a headcanon list

masterlist taglist

an: i’m so sorry anon, i really hope it isn’t cancer. i did my best with this one and it took priority because it struck a chord with me. you can imagine whatever leon you desire, i used re!2 for aesthetic purposes. pls let me know the results anon, praying for ya <333

leon!kennedy who does his best to make sure your comfortable all the time, everyday, wakes you up with breakfast in bed and some pain meds for your headaches.

leon!kennedy who puts on a brave face when you feel ill and you don’t know the cause. your scared and so is he, he’s trying his best to be strong for you.

leon!kennedy who admires your strength these days. that even when you feel like your lowest because of your pain and illness that your still smiling and trying your best to laugh. he loves that about you.

leon!kennedy who sees you have a good day, one out of the few you’ve had in this month. he sees you read, laugh at a tv show your watching with him. he even lets you kiss him a little because he knows your having a good day. and he wants everyday to be like this.

leon!kennedy who is rubbing your feet at the foot of the bed, watching you try and find joy in the book your reading. you have good days and bad days now, today was in the middle. it was filled with a little bit of hurt but also a little relief.

leon!kennedy who presses kisses to your head while your curled up next to him, hand resting on his chest as you slept. as you got a reprieve from the hurt that drowned and consumed your body. these little moments with you were precious to him, happy he could give you some reprieve from everything. he was glad to be that for you.

leon!kennedy who watches tv with you, you don’t feel like going out these days, the unknown sickness of your body was worrying him. but he was determined to be strong for you still, because that’s what you needed. you needed support.

leon!kennedy who makes you some lunch and rubs your back as you eat, trying desperately to stomach some food and try your best not to feel ill. your doing your best to be strong for him too, even if it kills you.

leon!kennedy who runs you a bath each evening, letting you both relax into each other in the tub. your body soaking in the hot bubbles and water, letting him rub soothing circles on any part of your body that he can. he knows he can only take away so much and he’s hoping that it’s enough for you.

leon!kennedy who wash’s your hair and scrubs and massages your scalp with such care, trying to ease some of the hurt your feeling. trying to do anything he can to make you feel better.

leon!kennedy who drives you around, gets you out of the house. he wants you to have a little bit of normalcy even if you feel ill all the time. he drives you to the bookstore, to a nice cafè and even to a park. he wants you to feel like your world is okay, that your safe and happy. only if it’s for a little bit.

leon!kennedy who tries not to notice how weak your becoming, who holds your hand when you feel pain and feel sick. when your joints ache and you have splitting headaches that caused you to cry and soak your face with tears. he just holds your hand, holds you, he can’t bare to see you like this but he loves you. so he’s going to stay even if it makes his heart ache.

leon!kennedy who takes you to the doctor after you finally give in. he doesn’t want you to be scared so he whispers reassurances into your ear even if he doesn’t entirely believe them. he just wants you to feel better.

leon!kennedy who sits with you in the waiting room, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, holding your hand tight as you both wait for the doctor to come out.

leon!kennedy who walks close to you, still holding your hand and making sure your okay, trying to soothe your nerves with just a simple touch. even if he wishes he could take it all away just like that.

leon!kennedy who comes into the doctors patient room with you. who lets the doctor run a couple procedures and asks you about how your feeling. asks what’s been happening and whatever you don’t remember, he’s happy to help and fill in. he wishes he could take the pain away, the pain you dealt with.

leon!kennedy who listens as the doctor tells you that it could possibly be cancer. that you could have it, he doesn’t miss the way you squeeze his hand tighter at the doctors words or how you have water in your eyes. and now he really wishes he could take that pain away, because you didn’t deserve this. you didn’t deserve a single bit of it.

leon!kennedy who after the doctors appointment holds your hand, holding it over the console of the car as he drives. he keeps looking over at you every few seconds. your eyes still red and watering a little as if your trying to hold them back. this is killing you, all of it is and you don’t deserve it. he knows that, his own eyes water a bit as he drives.

leon!kennedy who lets you cry into his chest and holds you on the bed, letting you wrap your body around his. he holds you close, he gives you comfort and love, his own reassuring words that he’s trying to desperately to believe and grapple onto.

leon!kennedy who wiped your tears away and presses kisses to your head, your cheek as he kisses some tears away. he presses a kiss to your lips, soft and loving. he keeps you close, he holds you. because no matter what, he would hold you. cancer or no cancer. he was there for you. and he’d never go away, not ever.

an: i love you all. pls reblog if u feel like it, like and my taglist is linked above at the beginning. i hope this brought comfort to you anon, thank you for asking this of me. i hope it didn’t disappoint. im honored you came to me for this. we always need a leon when times are tough, and i hope this helped.

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #re2 leon #leon kennedy au #re4 remake #re2 remake #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy x reader #di leon x reader #re4 leon #leon kennedy x fem reader #re2 leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #re4 leon x reader #re6 leon x reader #leon kennedy headcanons

[khuzena]

Just a coworker

Dr ratio x g/n! reader (i tried)

Part 1, Part 2

cw. angst, super slow burn, they eventually get tgt, hurf/comfort, jealousy brr, reader is unhinged, mentions of drugs, kinda cringe but who cares I've written worse, not proofread, dr ratio is a pussy

a/n: i js wanna say fck SCHOOL FOR GIVING ME 6 PROJECTS DUE TOMORROW. THIS FIC IS MEH BUT TRUST IT GETS BETTER (hopefully…)

Veritas Ratio is a lonely man. Only having his books and his sculptures as friends— regarding the rest as no use for him.

Up till now, you've been nothing more than the pest who waves hi at him every morning, bringing him coffee every now and then. You must be scheming something, there's no way someone could ever be this nice without asking for a favour.

“Dr ratio!”

The alabaster headed man stared at you, even with that stone head of his, you can clearly feel his piercing gaze.

“What is it?”

Veritas groans in annoyance, what is it again?

Lately, you've been struggling to teach this subject. As well-versed you were in topics such as literature, history and the likes, it was true that you were above average with maths.

“I've been tutoring this kid after classes and well…”

He doesn't move, just listening intently.

“He's been asking about quantum mechanics and I don't know much about the topic so…”

“so?”

so?

“I was wondering if you can teach me it.”

God damn it, he has better things to do.

“Then read a book about it”

His eyes were trained on your figure as he saw you tense, just why him of all people?

“Dr ratio, just this once. I just need to learn the basics once and I won't bother you again!”

He closed his codex and turned the other way, ready to walk away from conversation.

“I have better things to do than humouring your foolish antics—”

“Please.”

Your hands fidget nervously as he paused before looking back at you, pondering whether to do you a favour.

“I'll think about it.”

By the time you blinked, he was gone.

The next day passed, you were at his door, clutching your teaching materials as you waited for veritas’ class to end.

He scrunched nose as annoyance rose in him like a tide, he could see you waiting at the window and checking the time every now and then.

“That ends our discussion for today.”

His voice echoing on the walls as the bell rang, his students already out the door.

After a good 10 minutes, most of the students were out the door as he was left alone with himself (+ those eyes of yours that never seem to leave him alone)

“It's rude to stare.”

His comment caught you off guard, the corners of your lips twitching nervously as you hid behind the wall again— shit, he caught you staring…

Veritas let out a sigh before cleaning his desk of the sparse test papers he's collected last week.

A moment of silence passed before you mustered up the courage to enter the spacious room, it was… quiet to say the least.

“Dr. Ratio—”

“I'll tutor you but with one condition.”

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you nervously anticipated what he's about to say. (Did I mention he paused to rile you up?)

“You,”

A click on his cabinet was heard before he turned at your direction to get a better look at you.

“That I won't have to tutor you again next time, just this once”

It was odd, a teacher asking for tutoring from a fellow teacher? It wasn't uncommon but it certainly irked him of the thought. You could just read a book about it but you'd rather take his precious hours in his day for something you could do yourself.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“whew… I thought you were going to refuse.”

“Do you want me to?”

You shook your head no, gripping your satchel tightly.

“Tomorrow at the faculty room after classes—”

When you blinked, he was already behind you. Was he a magician or something?!?

“—Don't be late.”

Then, the door closed abruptly, now it was only you in the room.

…

The next day, classes already ended and you cleaned up your desk to get to the faculty room.

As you slid the door open, he was already waiting for you.

“What're you doing?”

Veritas moved another chess piece on the board, eating the white team's queen.

“What does it look like I'm doing?”

Why can't he just be nice for once?

“Whatever, so… do we start reviewing?”

You pulled the chair opposite to his and sat down. He didn't reply, only tapping his feet.

“Your turn.”

“Do I just?—”

“Just move a piece.”

Fine then. There were barely any pieces left on the board, leaving you with no other choice as you hid your king at the corner of the board.

“Checkmate.”

There was a visible annoyance on your face, making veritas chuckle.

“Seriously? When are you going to start tutoring me? I came here to learn something— not some stupid chess game”

“First of all, chess isn't stupid”

Before you knew it, veritas flicked your forehead.

“Second of all, learn patience.”

“ow!”

Veritas hid away the board and grabbed all the books needed, pulling out some notes and highlighters for you.

“Read”

The man in front of you flipped the pages and pointed at the highlighted paragraph for you. Was he making you read out loud? Were you 10 or something?

“Do I really have to?”

His fingers tapped aggressively on the board, his patience was thinning and you weren't even past the first page yet.

“Just do it.”

…

Who could've guessed two hours later you would be in tears, notes sprawled all over the table and veritas shouting at you.

“Idiot.”

He commented on your work before rewriting the entire thing for you and repeating it again.

“God dammit we're not even past the 20th page yet you're here crying like a child.”

Sniffles echoed in the room, only his lamp illuminating the room. You checked your phone and it was already 8 pm.

“Now read.”

“Q-quantum mechanics…”

He clenched his jaw, raising his voice at you before you could continue.

“You imbecile, not that— can't you read?!? Its wave function!”

“Whatever!”

Before he could react, you stood up, bag already in hand and walking away.

“We're not done yet.”

“I don’t care.”

Just like that, you were gone.

…

Despite you running off yesterday… There you were sitting on that same chair with the alabaster head man right in front of you.

“Again?”

You bit your lip nervously before tightening the grip on your pen.

“Yeah.”

Veritas nodded as he placed down his codex and walked to the sprawled shelves at his desk, his fingers tracing over the books (those books were rotting on those shelves, too dusty he had to wipe them)

“here.”

He took the book off the shelf and thrusted it into your hands.

‘The nonlinear schrodinger equation’

“Let's start with the ‘weakly nonlinear dispersion relation’ topic.”

Time flies by as he explains each term to you, giving definition after definition about each equation in front of you.

“Here, page 24.”

He pointed at the first equation but your eyes couldn't leave his stone head.

For an intimidating man, he's getting quite patient with you.

“— and let's compute the coefficients, after that,”

You couldn't stop wondering what he looked like under that stone head. It's hot out here, he must be sweating a tsunami in there. Is he handsome? or maybe he's wearing that stone head because he looks that bad?

“—the quantum mechanical pressure becomes negligible in the ‘semiclassical’ where nabla and—”

He hit your head with a codex, with no hesitation at all.

“ow!”

Oh shit— he must've noticed you staring.

“What were we reviewing?”

uh…

You gulped nervously, looking down at the page, you guys were already at page 26?!?

“0 points.”

He smacked you but with less force, though enough to leave a bruise.

“that hurt…”

“Then listen, don't waste my time.”

Under that alabaster head of his, a small smile formed from the corner of his lips due to the amusing sight before him.

“You're annoying, let's go over the fluid-dynamical form again.”

You weren't that boring after all.

…

You both were already at page 31, which was slow progress (at least to him, he can finish the book in under 3 hours.), yet still progress nonetheless.

“Do you get it now?”

It was already 9:58 pm, shit. You both got carried away…

“Yeah.”

Veritas handed the book over to you and hid away his highlighters.

“Go review at home— you better finish page 40.”

You nod, shoving the book into your satchel and your water bottle.

Today was… fun.

As you walked outside, one foot already out the door, you looked back.

“What?”

“and…”

There was a moment of silence, none of you moving before your voice shook,

“Thank you.”

He didn't say anything back, only putting back his folders in his bag as he removed his attention from you. You shook your head and just walked home.

…

It was the third day of him tutoring you, you were getting quite good.

“And how do you do the hamilton equation?”

There was a weird habit you did, you would bite your pen or sometimes click it nonstop due to stress (which you did now, don't do it too much though, you'll piss off veritas.)

You let out a soft hum before confidently writing the equation, no error in sight.

“And these quantities are called?”

“They're uh… momentas, right?”

“20 points— you're getting good at this.”

Receiving praise from others came by often, but to get one from the Dr. Veritas Ratio himself? You could wish.

Your eyes were glued at the scratch paper, unable to contain your smile; the aeons definitely smiled down on you and blessed you with his attention for today.

He takes note of this, but doesn't comment on that any further, only flipping the pages.

…

The fourth day. It was 2 pm, 3 hours earlier than the usual tutor hours. A new coffee shop opened in the food court at the university, which turned into the new buzz (the old coffee shops were shit.)

The line was long, your legs were about to give up but your students would occasionally suggest this shop, saying it's definitely better than the instant coffee at the teacher's lounge.

After 5 more minutes, it was finally your turn to order.

“Good afternoon! What can I get ya?”

The menu was definitely diverse, candy corn flavoured coffee? That's new.

“I'll take your special cappuccino”

The cheerful cashier jotted down your order, asking for your name then running to the back.

You sat down at some table and took out your laptop, fixing your schedules for this weekend.

“For ___?”

Eh? That was fast. It only took them 3 minutes to make your order despite the heavy line? Impressive.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and snatched the cup from the counter and walked back to your seat.

It tasted funny. Coffee jelly in cappuccino with sprinkles on top? At Least it tasted good.

“And here I was wondering where you are.”

“ack!”

You looked up and saw veritas in front of you, looming over you with his codex behind him after he hit you.

“that hurt…”

He sighed and sat down next to you while you rubbed the bruised area.

“Stop hitting people with your codex damn it!”

“I find it far more interesting to use my codex to get your attention.”

“Weirdo.”

He chuckled at the way scoffed, sipping your coffee and typing some requirements on an excel sheet.

“Anyways, why were you looking for me?”

He leaned back on the couch, before responding,

“Nothing, I was just wondering where the idiot was.”

“You little—”

Only a soft sigh left your lips as you continued to type, veritas beside you reading his codex and none of you saying a word.

Though this peaceful moment was short lived as the bell rang, signalling that the two of you had to go back to your respective classes.

Veritas sat up, closing his book.

“It's time for me to go.”

“Oh yeah.”

Veritas was gone in a blink of an eye, what's up with him disappearing so suddenly 24/7?!?

…

5 pm.

You were patiently waiting in the faculty room, what was taking veritas so long?

“You're late”

Veritas rolled his eyes— wait.

His stone head was… was this really the veritas ratio? He had nice purple hair, his eyes, he looked so… beautiful.

No way.

“When are you going to stop staring?”

“Oh— uh.”

You chuckled nervously before forcing a smile as he sat down in front of you.

“Let's continue where we let off.”

The sound of flipping pages reverberated across the room, your eyes locked onto his face. He would occasionally click his tongue at some parts of the book, guiding you through each equation as his face was close to yours; enough to feel his breath on your skin.

“—because its transformation φ is a symmetry and thus preserves the Lagrangian L and the action ,S=∫L”

Veritas ratio leaned closer to you, your hands touching as he got closer,

“Do you get it now?”

You didn't. You were too focused on his face, with every wrinkle of his brows, the tiniest details of his jaw and hell, even his eyes. How could you even focus? With his face inches away from yours? No way. The man right next to you stares at you, tapping his fingers on the mahogany table; he repeated himself.

“I said, do you get it now?”

Like the air was sucked out of your lungs, your last card was to lie but he was smart enough to not fall for that.

“Y-yes”

“Then what were we reviewing just now?”

He rolled his eyes hearing your mind blank out and confused ‘uhhs’ escaped your lips. You flinch from his harsh tone, as the cold stare turned into a glare.

“We should be reviewing the noether theorem, not my face.”

He made you solve equation after equation, his gaze not leaving you once as he crumpled your papers even after one minor mistake, “Idiot”, “Do it again.”, and “Are you really paying attention?” Constantly rang in your ears, you were not sure whether you asked for a tutoring session or a three hour insulting session from the revered professor.

“I'm sorry.”, He sighed at your visible frustration as you apologised through gritted teeth. He started to pity you when you struggled with just the terms at the next lesson. Was this theorem that hard? He dropped his pen and closed the book.

“Let’s end today’s session.”

A look of relief appeared on your face as he said those words, clearly, he’ll give you a break—

“Just read this book instead. It gives a more in-depth explanation”

— or not. He thrusted the book in your hands and put on his alabaster head, making you raise an eyebrow,

“What? You can’t seem to focus without this on”

You laughed an awkward chuckle while sliding the book in your satchel, a small squeak was heard when he stood up and moved his chair at his desk.

“Tomorrow again?”

“Sure.”

…

Veritas tapped his feet aggressively as time past by, you were late by 20 minutes, by now he would've left but for some reason he's feeling nice today that he'll wait for you.

The faculty room door slid open as light footsteps entered the room.

“Sorry ‘m late.”

You smelled different today. That would sound creepy to the average person but despite the tight alabaster sculpture that covers his face, he could smell your perfume and that he's gotten used to your scent by now.

“Did you wear something new?”

“Come again?”

He took one glance at you and shook his head and shifted his attention to the complex arithmetics on his codex.

“Hey, what did you mean by that?”

It was hard to ignore you as he tried to mute your voice but he let out an inaudible sigh before taking a quick glance at you.

“I meant your perfume, idiot.”

“No need to be rude.” you scoffed and placed down your bag at your desk.

He finds himself eager for a response as your right hand shuffled in your bag looking for the perfume bottle,

“I just tried something new.”

“Oh?”

He leans over the table to take a closer look at the bottle, inspecting it with a skeptical look one he's glad you cannot see through his sculpted head.

“It was a gift from one of our coworkers here”

There was a loud slamming sound that rang in the room when you dropped the materials Veritas made you read, it was a pain highlighting everything.

“From who?”

Why was he suddenly interested? He's not one to ask about anyone's affairs so suddenly, not that he'd care about something so miniscule about you like perfume yet you humour him.

“From Amir, the history prof guy?”

“I see.” For some reason, he finds himself feeling annoyed after hearing who you got it from. Why would you accept a gift from that idiot? He's a far better history professor, definitely? definitely.

Hours passed yet he couldn't concentrate. Not with that foul stench of your new perfume of yours.

Dr. Ratio scrunched his nose in disgust as he continued to guide you through each and every lesson, harsher than usual— you didn't know why.

“Wrong answer, 2 points.”

Veritas smacked your arm with his heavy codex and snatched your answer sheet, crumpling it and tossing it in the bin.

“Do it again.”

This fucker. You were starting to lose your resolve but you do not falter under his scrutinising gaze.

Again and again. Another 30 minutes yet your answers didn't seem ‘perfect’ enough.

Veritas clicked his tongue in annoyance as you failed to answer another simple question again

“Are you even paying attention?”

“If you didn't yell at me every minute I would've”

You continued to write more equations as he rolled his eyes at your reply, his eyes scanned your work and it was okay (atleast to his standards).

His eyes squinted, looking for any mistake but there was none, he gave up.

“50 points”, he spoke in a defeated tone.

“Just 50?”

“0 points then”

“Oh come on.”

It was hell getting tutored by him.

A/N: ITS TWO PARTS COS FUCK TUMBLR AND TOLD ME THERES A WORD LIMIT LOL. THE FULL FIC WAS LIKE 6.4K WORDS OR SHIT DAMN. ITS SO CRINGE ONG IMMA POST PART TWO TMRW GOD. IM LAGG>NG SO NAD RN HELP

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #dr ratio angst #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #honkai star rail x you #veritas ratio

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 11.

Summary: It's good to finally getting back home to Saltburn. There's just a few things to work out, such as where Oliver's staying, and why.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: implications of child neglect

A/N: 3989 words. I think about Jacob Elordi saying that Felix would have Artic Monkeys on his personal playlist, about once a day. um okay so not only is this uneditd, but i definitely got very drunk halfway through it, so that's.... that. (im drunk as i publish this) BUT WE'RE AT SALTBURN AND OLLIE GETS HERE TOMORROW!! (which means the next chapter, which dw will be tomorrow irl) ((is this anything?? im worried its ooc please feedback??))

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

There is no reverence in you anymore for the castle in the countryside that is Saltburn.

Once it had towered before you, trembling, a child alone in every way that mattered until the doors opened before you. Saltburn was a haven away from the bitter hypocrisy of both expectations and apathy, though it took you quite some time to learn as much. At first, there was reverence; Saltburn was the place where every script you'd learned to smile through, every societal expectation you'd been trained to uphold, would be put to the test.

And if you couldn't keep up, if you messed up in this holy house in the face of their kind smiles, you were sure their gazes would turn blank with inevitable disappointment.

But that was years ago.

And mistakes made you interesting, your quirks made them laugh, and Saltburn became less holy each Summer as you found it to be far more human.

It's what occupies your mind for the entire trip back to Saltburn, with you and Felix sharing an earbud each from his iPod, and Farleigh reading - pointedly not not ignoring Felix after he'd found out the news.

You wonder what Oliver will see in the house; the sum of it's parts, or each room and inch of the grounds as their own storage space for memories worth so much more.

Felix hums along under his breath like nothing in the world could ever worry him. Farleigh licks the tip of his finger, glancing with ire at his cousin for just a moment before turning the page of his book. Play. You squint at the cover; Richard the Third. Shakespeare. Farleigh holds the play up further to hide the rest of his face from you both.

You'll get to the station before midday, and a town car will be waiting for you all. Most of your things from Oxford are on their way to a storage facility in the city for the Summer, but you've still got a few precious things you're bringing back to the estate in a suitcase a the front of the carriage, and a bag overhead.

Felix has been trying to look nonchalant and look out the window for a good part of the trip now, but he keeps glancing at you with a strange look.

"Does this change us?"

This time, you make sure to catch his gaze before you reach for the iPod. Most of the ride has been on shuffle, quiet otherwise between you two, if not for his humming, or yours. Flipping through the few albums he had saved, you clicked through to the one you had been looking for. The sunshine is beating down on him just outside the window, almost directly overhead, shining on him and everyone in behind him in the window seats, painting them in sharp relief if they had their curtains open.

You pressed play on You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights But You Were Staring Straight at Me by the Artic Monkeys.

Felix, who knows and loves the song, can't look at you. Actually, properly can't look at you, hiding his embarrassed smile behind his hand as he forced himself to look out the window.

And you hum along, grinning, leaning just past him to also focus your gaze out the window.

"Stop that," he mumbles under his breath from behind his hand, clearly still smiling. All you do is continue to hum along as the band thrashes along in your heads. After a moment, you slide the iPod towards him, as if taunting him, daring him to change the song himself.

"- they're not half as bad as me," you sing under your breath. Felix is turning pink around the ears, but flips the iPod over onto it's face, letting the rest of the song play out, "say anything and I'll agree -" your smile grows wider and you sit back, but continue to hum.

If Farleigh's judging either of you, he doesn't lower his book enough to indicate as much.

The town car ride back to the estate was far more eventful, as the three of you began to properly discuss Oliver's impending arrival. Apparently he hadn't thought much about packing up his room at Oxford, what little there apparently was to pack up, so he was taking the extra day students were allotted to gather himself together for the Summer. That meant one night at Saltburn before he'd be there.

"I actually, genuine can't believe you sometimes," Farleigh had started two separate tirades in the past twelve hours exactly like this, and both about Oliver. It was no secret what this third was going to be about, "you honestly couldn't give me six weeks of peace? Six weeks?"

"You'll have plenty of peace, mate," Felix had insisted, eyes wide and pleading with his irate cousin, "and honestly, I think you'll really start to warm up to him."

"I appreciate that your optimism springs fucking eternal, Felix, but -"

"No, seriously, give him a chance outside of all the academics and what everyone else thinks," Felix was beginning to plead for a moment, all big brown eyes and imploring tone of voice. Farleigh, however, was not as well swayed as the rest of the world would be by his theatrics.

"I'm not going to play nice with your little -"

"Hey, he might be into that," you cut Farleigh off before he could say something too incendiary, but Felix still cast his frown between you both.

"Not helping, Y/N," he admonished, turning back on Farleigh who was suddenly overcome with mild revulsion at your implications. When Felix wasn't looking, you wiggled your eyebrows at him suggestively, teasingly adding to the bit. He fake-gagged, much to Felix's disappointment.

It wasn't a long journey, however, and soon enough the three of you were pulling into Saltburn, and there was something amusing about the collective sigh of relief you all shared once the door opened.

"Feels like ages since we've been back," Felix stretches, leaving his bags for the chauffer and doormen, as did you. Farleigh made a start towards the trunk of the car before the chauffer climbed out, giving him a confused look and he thought better of it.

"Christmas, right?" Farleigh stuck his hands into his pockets, sauntering up the steps beside you all, gazing up at the large, blue doors.

"Duncan taking his time," Felix muttered under his breath after a moment, to which you grinned.

"Probably wants to keep them closed on us as long as possible," though just as you say that, as Farleigh and Felix snicker, the doors creak open, and there, gaunt as you've ever seen him, Duncan somehow manages to loom impressively large, even as you've grown into an adult.

"Master Felix," he nods to each of you with the same stern civility he's always carried, "Master Farleigh, Captain Y/N." You nod in turn, voice turning cordial as you greet him warmly, despite your two companions barging through ahead of you.

"Duncan, always lovely to see you," you incline your head towards him the way you always have, and for a brief moment he allows himself a faint, but genuine smile.

"God, you're so fucking weird sometimes!" Farleigh calls over his shoulder at you. You roll your eyes, but Duncan is stone-walling again, so you slip past him to catch up. In time to hear Farleigh's voice lower and ask, "have you told your mother yet?" Felix makes a face.

"I texted her before we got on the train," it sounds uncomfortable, "she sent me an incomprehensibly long text back which I only got when we had service again. I think she's fine with it."

Farleigh hangs his head, his last defence against Oliver's impending arrival foiled. After a beat, he forced a smile, sliding up to get in step beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Oh, we're gonna be best friends this summer," he tells you, as if you have no say in it, "you, me, and my fucking weed guy -"

"Say it fucking louder why don't you," Felix rolled his eyes, but you simply shook your head at the altercation, wrapping your arm around Farleigh's middle and giving him a squeeze.

"You're impossible, Farleigh," you told him, "and so lucky I love you."

Farleigh quietly cheers for what small triumph he had won, before both you and him look to Felix's vaguely sceptical expression, taking in the both of you.

"It's a fair trade," Farleigh told him easily, "you get your new best friend Oliver -" still yet to say the name without disdain, you note, "- I get Y/N."

"I did also promise Venetia I'd spend some time with her," you chime in, but Farleigh can't help himself but snort.

"You sure she won't pick a fancy for Oliver too?" You can hear his lip curl, but Felix pulls ahead where he's been casually leading you all through the house to his room. You can't see his expression.

"Fuck off, Farleigh -" you start, coldly pulling away from him, but Felix's tone is light, almost forcibly casual as he cuts you off.

"Ollie's lovely but I don't think he's much of her type."

"Everyone's Venetia's type," Farleigh spits, unable to stop himself from putting his foot in his mouth. The implication hangs in the air for a long few seconds before Farleigh catches himself. The unneeded reminder. The real reason for the sudden coldness. Felix turns, smiling bright with nothing behind his eyes as he cheerfully tells Farleigh -

"You know where your room is, right?" And says he's going to rest before hunting down the rest of the family amongst the estate. Farleigh meekly nods, and departs from you both. Both you and Felix follow him with your eyes; Felix's smile doesn't drop before the door closes behind him, and it's the two of you in the blue room, alone.

And you know he's thinking about Eddie.

You wish Farleigh knew how to keep his mouth closed, how to stop pressing buttons when he always knew what they did.

"Where's Ollie going to be staying?"

Felix's eyes flash to you, and you wonder if it were the right or wrong question. Is there a question in this moment that isn't loaded? Is there a question you could ask that wouldn't make him think of Eddie right now?

Eddie had stayed in Felix's room. In Felix's bed. At least he was supposed to. But Oliver wasn't Eddie, so he needed his own space.

Oliver was different to Eddie, you reminded yourself, and hoped that Felix was thinking it too. That was good. That was good.

"Dunno," Felix finally admitted with a sigh, draping himself over the cream sofa, looking up at the ornate ceiling. You sat on the stool for the broken piano, lifted the lid and idly played a few notes, listening to the little hammers in the instrument tap uselessly against broken strings.

"Vennie wouldn't do that again, would she?" Felix muttered so quietly you almost miss it. He doesn't call his sister Vennie often; you know he's dwelling, he's hurting the way he tries to pretend like he doesn't.

"Farleigh's talking shit because it's his job at this point," you tell Felix flatly, and he angles his head towards you, even if it looks like it hurts, so you see him contemplating, "but Ollie isn't Eddie."

Something lights up in the back of your mind as you read faint disappointment on Felix's face as he processes your words. Nodding, he sighs again, looking up at the ceiling.

"Last night was fucking beautiful," Felix's tone turns wistful; he hasn't told you properly about what happened between him and Oliver, but clearly it went well, "I hope Ollie likes it here." Then, closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath before offering, "I've been meaning to thank you, actually," he admits. You shift from the piano stool to sit on the arm of the sofa he was laying across, "for giving me space to spend those moments with Ollie last night."

His face scrunches up a little, then, as if sensing you by his head, he cracks an eye open. Slowly, almost embarrassed, he starts to smile.

"He's like you, you know?" He says gently, before he really considers what he means, and his face falls; you watch, you wait patiently, "can't go home ever again," apology in his eyes, "that's what he said to me."

There's that love, that desire to do good, to be good, that Felix has always craved. He's in his own head, all kinds of thoughtful and melancholy that he often isn't around the rest of the world. Felix shuffles himself over on the plush, wide sofa, making himself as small as possible, and you know it's an invitation. One that you take. It's awkward, but he holds you tightly so you won't fall off.

You wonder if he even realises that you're there, that you're in his arms and listening to the way his thoughts spill out of him from a moment of connection he craves but doesn't often get. If you're so much of his mental wallpaper that holding you like this, the way you listen, the way you are so gentle in these moments, if you're more like a simple diary, an easy, comfortable way to get these thoughts out of his head without the fear of his secrets being spilled upon someone who might use them against him.

"I don't think I'll ever understand not being able to come home," Felix admits softly, "I can't even wrap my head around how Ollie became the man he is with parents like that; and after all he's gone through, for this to be straw, the thing that means he'd rather live in a world alone than be around the people - person - who was mean to love and protect him and yet failed him over, and over, and over again? He's so bloody strong for how long he's gone through it all."

Swallowing hard, you're surprised by the way your eyes are clouding over. Trying not to break the moment, you press your face against his chest; Felix doesn't seem to notice, still trapped in his own thoughts, but he instinctively holds you a little tighter.

"'Home' doesn't mean the same for you as it does for me," Felix whispers softly, almost to himself, and it hits you square in the chest. The tears start to come, and you can feel them dampening his shirt, "that's what he'd said to me," oh, Felix hadn't even realised you were crying.

It takes another half a minute before he even seems to realise something is wrong, but you assured him you were fine, that you were just very glad that Oliver would be staying here instead for the Summer. He'd almost connected the dots at the start of the conversation, but now he couldn't seem to see them.

Still, you knew Felix, and you weren't sure if his heart could handle making you cry twice in two days. So you lie, and he lets it go.

Felix is sitting up and stretching, his mood having improved for having voiced his thoughts it seems, and you're drying your eyes when the door to the Blue Room opens.

"Darlings, Duncan just let me know you'd arrived and were on your way to freshen up before the afternoon," Elspeth was as bright and flighty as always, looking between you both, "so glad I caught you both." Felix is the first on his feet, warmly greeting his mother with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which she returned in kind. Seeing your red-rimmed eyes, she's immediately concerned, but you brush it off quickly, telling her that you and Felix were simply discussing Oliver's situation and that you were incredibly excited to have him joining you all. She, of course, lit up at that.

"It will be such a treat, if I'm to believe my darling son," and of course she is to believe darling Felix, everyone at Saltburn always did. His admiration was worth it's weight in gold to the people who loved him, Elspeth especially. She latches onto the elbow he doesn't offer and you're left to catch up to them as they make their way through the familiar rooms to Felix's, her voice filling the space all the while.

"You must tell me all about dear Oliver," Elspeth insists; she, like her son, was made for Saltburn. She catches the light, beautiful and timeless and made to live amongst its timeless walls. Your face still feels hot; you don't know why but you feel out of place - home doesn't mean the same thing for you as it does for me - Felix pet's his mother's hand on his arm and assures him that she'll love Oliver. He's thoughtful. He's gentle. He's beautiful. Her eyes shine; even his mother is not immune to his light.

"Now, I hope you don't mind," Elspeth begins when the three of you get to the long gallery before Felix's room, "but it was rather last minute, so it's been something of a rush to get everything ready -"

"Get what ready?" Felix asks, and you watch them like a play, like a film, like a third party without any kind of say.

"I thought it would be best if Oliver stayed in the room attached to yours," Elspeth said, and it takes a moment, but you feel your stomach drop. This was worse than last Summer; at least then you had your own room.

"Y/N's room?" There's some victory to be taken in the way Felix seems ready to fight for you in this matter.

"Oliver is a guest, dear," Elspeth didn't even look at you in this moment, "we didn't want to have him set up, all alone, on the other side of the house." She smiles, and gives a fond, if condescending look over her shoulder to you, "you'll be alright, won't you sweetheart? It's just a bedroom, it's not a big deal." You try and smile, and nod, and be placating -

"They can stay with me," Felix insisted, "sleep over, like when we were kids." For a moment, he looks to you. The nod he gives is solid, is reassuring; it eases your heart.

"I don't know if that'd be appropriate."

Elspeth knows. Everyone fucking knows. No-one will say it, but it effects every damn thing they do. How they treat you. You know this, but no-one talks about it out loud.

Saltburn thrives on the unspoken.

"Why not?" Felix forces his mother's hand, "Y/N's my best mate, has been for years, we share a bed all the time." And Elspeth is too polite to do anything but concede, and lets you both know with a faint, awkward smile that your things will be moved to Felix's room before the day is out.

"And Y/N, darling," she does finally, properly acknowledge you, taking both your hands in hers, kissing you on both cheeks, "it's wonderful to see you, of course, so glad to have you home."

Home.

You smile warmly at her. After a beat, however, she casts a faint frown to the window.

"And I feel I'd be remis not to tell you that Venetia is refusing to get out of the pool until you go down and join her."

"Oh," there's an amused kind of warmth that blooms in your chest at that, at being sought after and missed; Felix rolls his eyes but it's fond, "how long has she been there?"

"Not long before you arrived," Elspeth gives a genuine, warm smile, clearly either wilfully or genuinely ignorant about the nature of your relationship with her daughter, "please just take it as a sign that we have all missed you dearly."

She leaves you both to it, reminding you of when supper was to be held, as if the time ever changed, and you and Felix quietly made your way into his room. Your room.

You watch from the doorway as your best friend breathes in familiarity of it all. His childhood bedroom, always left immaculate and untouched, a museum to him whenever he was away from the house. A place of so many of your firsts, yet never a place you'd really called your own. Felix falls onto the bed, face-first, swearing muffled by his expensive duvet.

"Every bloody person's determined to get on my nerves today," Felix sighed, flipping himself over, legs hanging off the end of the bed. "Not you, you don't count," he adds idly, flicking his wrist in your general direction, but still managing to warm your heart, "I'm glad Ollie's staying close by, but can you believe she thought you'd stay anywhere but here?" He sounded genuinely miffed, finally turning to look at you. When he sees the abashed way you're smiling at him, his frustration drops, "what?" He can't help but match your softness in this moment, and you shake your head, trying to tell him it's nothing. "It's not nothing, look at you," he insisted brightly; your smile widened, as if on cue, "you were getting teary thinking about Ollie just minutes ago; go on, what's on your mind now. Is it Venetia?"

"'s not Venetia," you insisted, finally joining him in the room, sitting yourself on the edge of the bed looking around.

Your room; the room you share with Felix, and so close to Oliver too.

"It's our room, isn't it?" It's like he can read your damn mind, practically giggling like a high schooler at the mere thoughts of what the two of you were bound to get up to.

"You were so insistent," you finally teased, grinning wide and leaning back against him, "it's almost like you like me or something."

"That's fucking lies and slander!" Felix crows, your head on his chest, "I'll sue you for that -" but you're already moving, straddling him, pinning his hands to the bed either side of his head as you grin down at him.

"Felix Catton's sharing his bed, call the tabloids!" You teased, leaning in, and when he captures your lips in a kiss, it's like he wants you to taste how sharp his amusement is. He bites and teases and frees his hands to pull you in. Quickly everything shifts and moves and there's something possessive about the way he kisses you, holds you, has you under him and pinned and breathless before you realise what had happened.

"You think I'd let mum kick you out like that?" His pupils are blown so wide with want you think they could swallow you whole in this moment; "never want you that far away if I can help it," it comes out as a breathless admission, almost like it escaped him, like he's caught up in the moment, and you never want him to stop talking to you like this, "can't say that at Oxford - fuck Oxford," he mumbles, his lips on your neck in the next instance. His teeth sting without breaking the skin, sucking with intent to leave an ache that would remind you of him every time you touched it for the next few days.

"Us and Ollie," his lips are gentle when he kisses across your chest, your collar bones, "I'm sure between the three of us we'll end up getting into proper tabloid trouble," you can feel his smirk, and there's something electrifying about the possibilities you find yourself considering.

"Us and Ollie," you agree with a roughish grin. Felix captures your mouth once more in a kiss, matching your energy, your enthusiasm, but adds, "Ollie tomorrow."

And at that, you remember; giddy laughter escapes you.

"Our room," you can't help but remind him, and Felix's grin stretches wider.

"Venetia can wait for you a little longer."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[writer-komaru]

₊˚ᜊ₍ᐢ. ̞.ᐢ₎ᜊ˚₊ Devil’s Playmate ✦.˚ ; • . ★⋆’. °࿐࿔

✧Rating: Smut (exhibitionism + tons of dirty talk + face sitting + Fem/Afab!Reader)

✧Characters: Nagito

✧Word Count: 4.3k

✧Summary: It all starts with you accepting an innocent cup of hibiscus tea from your lovely but troublesome servant Nagito, the same kind of tea you’re given every morning. As you continue about your day with him at your side, you begin to feel a bit off. This weird feeling has driven itself under the expanse of your delicate skin, leaving it heated and flustered. But a lady like you had no time to entertain silly urges like lust. Little did you know the faithful servant you always keep by your side is growing more and more concerned for you. Don’t be surprised if he decides to take matters into his own hands to relieve that desire burning oh so painfully between your thighs. As you fall into his carefully laid out trap, you realize just who’s the servant after all.

It all began on a quite unremarkable morning. You rest comfortably upon your plush velvet armchair while reading a book dressed in a faded red cover. You flip through a few of the aged manila pages before snapping the book shut, unamused at the little waiting game you’ve been forced to participate in.

“He’s late,” you remark out loud.

It was ten minutes past the eleventh hour, and he was yet to arrive with your cup of hibiscus tea, with exactly two cubes of sugar. He’s always been quite punctual. “How strange,” You make a note to speak with him about this sudden shift in behavior the moment you next see him. And as if on cue, a very hurried flurry of fuzzy white hair hurls its way into your parlor, gasping heavily.

“My mistress, my deepest apologies for my tardiness-“

“Speaking before being spoken to? Who might be because you’re clearly not my precious lapdog,” you inspect your groomed nails and flick your wrist, as if flinging a dagger right next to his head to put him in his place. He shivers at the silent threat and gets onto his knees.

“I suppose I’ve had worse servants,” she sighs and gently picks up the tempered glass teacup he set down on your side table, “But you still have quite a bit to learn.”

He offers a short nod and keeps his head low. Maybe he’s finally got his head in straight.

“Now speak, explain your attendance,” you motion for him to sit up. He does so and smiles gently at you, as if pleased just to be spoken to.

“A million apologies would not be enough to make up for my lateness, my mistress, I know. I am more than ashamed of myself. The reasoning is I unfortunately misplaced one of the key ingredients for your morning tea and spent a good deal of time retracing my steps,” he recounts.

You spare him a curt glance as you take the first sip of your tea. The flavor is just as fragrant and rich as ever with a tinge of something sweet. Did he add something to your tea without consulting you first?

“And what might this ever so important secret ingredient be?” You raise a curious eyebrow, making him sweat nervously.

“T-there’s no need to worry; it was just a mere drop of honey, my mistress. I noticed your slight distaste for the new blend of tea I’ve been brewing for you so I decided to add some sweetest. The only problem was after unpacking the new bottles yesterday, I happened to misplace them. How unfortunate…” he sighed in regret.

“I think I understand now. I’ll let it slide this time but remember to be more punctual,” you add as you continue helping yourself to your tea and your book. You would have resorted to a harsher punishment if he was anyone else but you understand these little slip ups are all caused by his curse of a luck cycle. No use punishing something out of his control. You wave him off with your foot, too consumed in your own affairs. After kneeling one more time, gently grasping your clothed foot to kiss the top, he rises and exits the room. A small amused grin is hidden behind the crimson cover of your book.

Once your morning tea has run dry, it’s time for the next objective in your long schedule: A brisk walk through the gardens to inspect the landscaper’s work, followed closely by an important meeting with an esteemed author looking to sell their rare collection of discontinued books. Then the annual check in with the servants of the house to make sure everything is in order. After that is a well deserved ride around town on horseback. Lastly, to finish off your day you have a few letters to pen before dusk. Quite a busy day you have ahead of you, but you won’t be doing this alone. As you depart your study, Nagito, your servant from before, appears at your side.

“How are you feeling after your tea break, my mistress?” He inquired with a gentle smile.

“Delightful, as usual,” you nod, not sparing him a glance.

“That’s wonderful to hear, my lady. If there’s anything you’d like to ask of me, please, I’m yours to command,” he urges.

“Nothing I can think of. Won’t you join me on my daily walk out in the gardens?” You offer.

His eyes sparkle with enthusiasm, “O-Of course, I’d be honored! How lucky am I… to go from a tardy mess to a- oh, forgive my mindless rambles, my mistress,” he chuckles apologetically and shuts his mouth tight. You two make your way out the back of the mansion and enter the lush gardens. Workers can be seen throughout the sprawling green fields preening the hedges, watering flowers, and plucking weeds. Truly a sight behind. You reside yourself strolling through the winding paths of ivy and petals, each one more radiant than the last. As your fingertips trace over the delicate buds, you feel a subtle heat spanning over your cheeks. The sensation is strange but not enough to raise any concern.

“My lady, you’re looking a bit red. May I offer this parasol as shade?” Nagito opens the parasol and holds it above your head, blocking you from the harsh rays of the sun.

“Thank you kindly,” you softly smile at him before continuing your walk. As you examine the flora, the heat of before persists. It starts to make you feel slightly dizzy, but a lady must continue her task no matter the circumstance. Your wandering eyes lock onto your servant. He’s dressed in a loose fitting, rufflely white shirt with tight black slacks, a few silver rings adorn his fingers. They are actually his prized possessions he was gifted by you on his birthday, resulting in a hurricane of thank you’s and tears. He looked rather dashing, even if the outfit was rather simple. D-did you just…? You purse your lips and snap your attention away and back to the matter at hand. A lady of your high class shouldn’t be checking out her servant in such a unbefitting way. What has gotten into you?

“My lady, are you alright? You look a touch bothered by something. Can I be of assistance?” Nagito asks compassionately with an innocent tone.

“It’s nothing, I just feel a bit off today,” you brush off the question and make your way inside with your servant following closely behind.

“A bit off? Could you elaborate a little more, my lady?” He pushes, cocking his head to the side in a curious manner. Your dart around the hallway, noticing a few maids dusting the tables and fixing the curtains. A more secluded space would be best.

As if reading your thought process word for word, he carefully leads you to one of the spare rooms reserved for guests. You gasp as he hooks a finger under your chin to examine your rosy cheeks, the proximity making this unknown heat under your skin flare up.

“Oh my… my lady, you don’t seem well. Did you have a fever? But you haven't shown any other symptoms… oh, I’ve got it! It’s most likely a sunburn from over exposure to the sun? Forgive me for not fetching a parasol sooner, my mistress. Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you by alleviating any ailments you might be having. Please, rest on the bed while I gather some medicine for you, my mistress,” he bows before making a quick exit. You humor him by taking a seat at the edge of the neatly tucked bed. The gall he has to give you orders… As you wait patiently for his return, the heat from before spreads under your skin, focusing its assault on the plush region between your thighs. In no way is this some silly sunburn; It felt as though your lower area had been ignited with the fires of lust by Eros himself. Whoever was playing this cruel joke on you clearly doesn’t know who they're messing with.

“I’ve returned, my mistress! I’m sorry to make you wait for so long, I have bad news. The author is already here waiting for you in the meeting room on floor three,” he races to your side and returns to his knees as an apology. How greatly unfortunate… Maybe your servant’s poor luck was contagious.

“Fine then. Let us go; we can’t leave him waiting,” you rise swiftly to your feet and make your way to the stairs. No matter how badly her body craves attention, a true lady must always put aside her own needs to attend to her duties.

“M-my lady, you don’t look well, maybe we should-“ he tries to reach for your hand only for it to be swatted away.

“Someone clearly has problems holding their tongue. Maybe I should rip it out so it won’t give you any problems speaking out of turn again. Would you like that?” You warn with a scathing glower.

“N-no, my lady! I would like to keep my tongue i-if that’s an option,” he chuckles nervously, shuffling behind you.

“Then know your place,” you brush him off and enter the room in front of you where the author is waiting patiently. You take a seat in front of him and cross your legs and Nagito kneels down next to you by your feet. As you and the author are discussing the book series you plan on buying from them, your legs shift around uncomfortably from the aching feeling under your dress. You notice his eyes peeking down at your shifting legs every so often before immediately glancing to the floor. He was always so very caring but now was really not the time for his inappropriate stares. Even the slightest attention to your lower area made the process of hiding it more difficult than it needed to be. When the author turned around to unpack the books in his briefcase, your servant placed a gentle hand on your thigh, looking up at you with sweet puppy dog eyes like he’s pleading for something. If it’s what you think it to be he’d be in for a thorough punishment later.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, mistress…” he whispered to you, his hand stroking down the thigh. You flicked away his wandering hand and focused back on the array of books strewn out on the table. You picked up the first book of the series and began flipping through it. The text was neatly printed, its pages pearly white and free of aging. It was in excellent condition, considering it’s a much older series. As you neared the middle, a strange tickling sensation kept up your thigh from under your fluffy dress. You bite your lip and ignore it, not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of someone you’re trying to make a deal with.

“I think I know what’s wrong, my lady… your body is all wound up….” His airy voice drifts out from under the tablecloth, “Don’t worry… a good servant always attends to the needs of his lady~”

Just as you’re about to yank him out from under the table, his delicate fingertips trace the area next to your lacy panties.

“Uh… if everything is alright, miss? You look a bit bewildered,” the author asks.

You clear your throat, “Forgive my rudeness, but there’s an important matter I must attend to this very second. It won’t take long, please wait for my return,” you give a short curtsy to the author and step away from the table, yanking your naughty servant out from under the table and pulling him roughly out of the room. You can only imagine the horror on that poor author's face. After a speedy jaunt to your bedroom, she pushes him onto the bed and curses his name.

“The damned whore, how dare you try something like that not only in front of such a famous author but also without permission. I should have you exiled from the mansion, if not the whole nation for that! What do you have to say for yourself?” You snarl, towering over him with a violent aura.

“My lady, please forgive my inappropriate actions, all I wish to do is to serve you,” he soothes, laying on his back and pulling you closer to him by the hips, “try as you might to hide your needs but you should know you can’t keep a secret from me~”

You try to step back from his menacing words, “what do you mean by that?”

“Would you please allow me the privilege to show you?~” he coos to you after pulling you back and onto his thighs. You groan as your clothes sex accidentally swipes over his sturdy thigh, covering your embarrassed blush with the back of your hand.

“Oh? My lady, if you’re trying to seem like you’re an abstaining, pure soul, forgive me for this, but you’re not doing that great of a job,” he smirks up at you. This devil of a man under you is clearly getting a rise from tempting your body's cravings.

“I told you, it’s nothing, now release me so I can go back t-hnngg~” an uncontrollable moan escapes your lips as he drags your hips up his body, grinding your sex over his stomach and up to his chest. The relief of touch on the throbbing location felt like pure bliss but you knew he was just messing with you. You wouldn’t dare give him the honor of another pleasured groan so you force yourself to look away.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t have any urges a servant like me could take care of? Not a single ache, bruise, or itch?~ If I’m allowed to gloat just a bit, I’m veerryy good at relieving urges~” He purred softly, pressing your plush thighs against either side of his head, your twitching sex hovering over his panting mouth. His eyes were glazed over with desire like he’s in a trance, his mouth streaming with drool, face covered in a deep blush. He looked like even more of a mess than you did.

“N-no, not in the slightest,” you stammer out.

“Are you sure?~ well, then… I don’t think you’d mind if I… just give this spot down here a check, just in case~” he bites his lip as he pulls your panties to the side, strings of drooling desire clinging to the thin fabric. He audibly moans at the sight, licking his lips.

“Oh my…. My mistress, it seems like I’ve found the source of the problem… your poor sex is crying out for some attention. Did something happen to make you so unbelievably turned on? Does it hurt… my lady?~” he murmurs to you, tracing a finger over your swollen bud. Even though the touch was faint and barely there, it still had your cunt clenching around nothing, an unsightly and almost inhuman amount of slick pooling onto his chin.

“Y-you… if my mind wasn’t so… cloudy, I’d knock some sense into you. B… but… yes, I guess… it does hurt a bit,” you hesitatingly admit, being met with a delighted moan.

“Just as I thought. There’s no need to fret, my mistress. Your servant is here to make all your problems go away…~ All this pussy needs is some good service and you’ll feel better in no time,” he chuckles with a friendly smile, a pure contrast to the sinful looks he was giving your cunt only a few seconds ago.

“You dare speak in such a vulgar way to me?!” You snarl down at him.

“Come on… I know your womanhood is craving something…” he teases, swiping his index finger along your labia.

“M-my ‘womanhood’ has no such cravings. Seize this nonsense of I-I’ll.. ah…” you let out another groan as he rubs over your puckering entrance. You honestly didn’t know if you wanted to yank him by the hair so smash his lewd mouth against your pussy or fling him straight into the dungeon and leave his incubus nature to rot there alone.

“Oh but mistress, you can deny it all you want, but your body only speaks the truth. I can tell how badly it wants my fingers stretching it out… or better yet, why not just let it sit right here on my face. You don’t even have to worry if I can breathe or not~ I won’t complain,” he grins and inches your body closer. It’s taking all your strength to hold your body up and away from the temptation nudged right between your trembling thighs.

“Just a little bit further~ the longer you try to hold yourself back, the longer you’ll be leaving the author waiting. You wouldn’t want him to come looking for you just to see you riding your poor servant's mouth like some sort of prostitute~” he teases, stroking your inner thighs some more. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Against every thought in your mind, you lower yourself fully onto his awaiting tongue.

“Tha-Ahh!~ that’s it~ there you go, mistress~ now just use my mouth in any way you want. Use me as the slutty toy I am, my horny mistress~” his voice cracks from the pure levels of pleasure racing through his body right now, digging his nails into your thighs as your body slowly begins to rock against his mouth. And damn, was he good with his mouth. You’ve never felt anything quite as pleasurable as the feeling of his tongue lapping up the slick pouring from your entrance, teasing the rim before shoving its length inside. His nose perfectly rubs against your sensitive clit, making your whole entire body shake. Your back aches as a needy moan rips from your throat, humping against his tongue like this is your first time experiencing real pleasure. You felt like nothing more than a common whore dressed in the diamonds and gowns of a privileged lady. Nagito had that effect on you.

“Why… aghhh.. how… Hahh Ahh… how am I… this turned on?” You stammer out between broken moans and grunts.

“Just a little trick I have up my sleeve~ or… more like it your tea~ heheh, but there’s need to dwell on it, just focus on using me for your pleasure~ The true role… of a servant~” he babbles to himself as the tip of his tongue nudges your g spot.

A loud moan erupts from your throat, “Hahh- Aghh!! Oh.. oh my… d.. damn you…”

“Oh?~ did my dirty touch hit a sensitive spot? What would happen if I did it again, I wonder?” He smirks up at you before thrusting his wet muscle against the sponges spot inside your walls that had you grasping his hair for dear life.

“Agh… you… damned mutt…” You continue linking together a string of curses and degrading words as you feel a worrisome sensation straining against your cunt. The more his tongue pounds into your sex, the stronger this sensation gets.

“Come on, mistress… just a little bit longer… the release you’ve been longing for for so long is almost ready to burst~” he giggles in delightful anticipation.

“I hate you so much…” she groans, knowing this whole entire problem is definitely his doing. The servant before you, the one slurping up your pussy like it’s his last fucking meal, has always such a tease. Images of all the explicit situations he’s gotten you into before flood your mind as you prepare for your final release. You hated how he tempts you into such lustful acts with knowing damn well his lower position of power in regards to you but every time he found his way in between your legs, it always made you remember the kind of servant he is. He’s not a butler, secretary, assistant, or any only formal word in the book. He was a toy, your toy to use for your pleasure, as he calls it. But it always feels like it’s the other way around. As his hot tongue fucks in and out of your tight pussy, you both can tell how close to the edge you are.

“Please my mistress, please grace my tongue with the delicious taste of your cum~” he begs in garbled words, babbling nonsense like he’s lost his mind; like he’s high off the taste of your sweet nectar.

“Aghhhh.. Hahhh.. ha- ah! O-okay… fine. But just… j-just one. Only once, got it?” You shoot him a glare.

“Yes my lady, only one~ only one, that’s all~ hehe… hahah… ahhahaaa~” his sinister cackles leave you questioning if he really means it. The quivering on your pussy gets stronger and stronger as it threatens to release sprays of steamy cum into the needy expanse of his mouth. His eyes roll back into a beautiful sight of depravity as your cum spills onto his mouth, painting his lips, nose, and entire face in a layer of thick liquid. The sight is downright appalling, enough to make anyone grimace.

You quickly recover from the euphoric blast of an orgasm he just gave you and tries to lift off his tongue, “I think I've had enough of thi- huh?”

Nagito’s face, more specifically his eyes, swirl like two dark pools of inescapable lust, dragging you in. He forces your body firmly on his tongue and continues to eat you out, “My apologies, but I think I’ve missed a spot… just one more orgasm should clear it right up~”

“Oh no, don’t you even thi- Aghh, t-think about it, you better stop or… or… nghhh hah~” your voice trembles with rage as you try to pry your shaking body off his slutty mouth.

“Please my mistress, just one more~ I can’t be a good servant unless I thoroughly relieve every desire your body clings onto. This won’t take long, I promise~” the mischievous expression on his face clearly states otherwise but the dreadfully good drag of his tongue along your cunt, giving your clit a couple playful sucks as if you're throwing any other needs out the window. The only thoughts you’re thinking right now is riding his face until he eventually lets you go.

“There you go… just like that~ use me… use me for your pleasure~ that's all I want, all I could ever want. I exist only to bring you a countless amount of orgasms~ my only use is being your sex toy~ so please, use me however you see fit! Just as long as you keep smothering me with that beautiful, beautiful pussy~” he coos almost like he’s talking to your sex itself. His tongue leaves you lost in the sea of desire, making you feel so good you wouldn’t be surprised if every servant in the mansion could hear your cries of bliss.

“What a naughty mistress… I bet everyone can hear you, clear as day. You like that though, don’t you? I think you do… you like the idea of the people who wait on your every need hearing you cry out another servant’s name… the prim and proper lady they serve turned into a whore all because of my pathetic excuse of a tongue. Maybe… maybe they’re getting horny… you like that thought?” His words and pure filth but you just can’t stop letting them consume you.

“Uhuh.. yes… oh… ohhh god yess~” you tilt her head back and release a moan.

“You like the thought of all your servants unable to control themselves while listening to you moan above me? I wonder what they could be doing… maybe they’re all touching themselves… they know they shouldn’t but they just can’t help it. They're just too horny to control themselves~ Just like you, mistress,” he snickers devilishly. All this arousal, all this teasing was really starting to get to you. Drool and tears made your makeup melt off your face, staining your angelic satin dress. If you weren’t so fucked out you’d totally punish him for a lifetime for everything he’s done: Dirtying your dress, interrupting your meeting with an important person, touching you multiple times without permission, disobeying commands… but you won’t again think of his tongue. His skilled, hot tongue rubbing against every spot in your pussy that had you on the verge of cumming was practically your weakness. He knew this fact all too well.

“Does my mistress have a secret kinky side?~ Could you be just as sinful as me?~ then come on, my lady… let us be consumed in desires together… don’t stop cumming till I suffocate against your pussy… and even then, just keep using my body. Aghh yess… to be used by you… it’s my only desire… I’ll please you… I’ll please you for days if you’d like… so please…. Give me an order~ P-please, oh please my mistress, order me!~” he cries out in desperation, his hips jumping in the air for any slight bit of friction his tight slacks can’t offer him.

“An order… I… aghhh… I order you t-to keep going… and don’t stop t-till… you fulfill your role as… my sex slave,” you finally manage out, greeted with an immediate guttural moan.

“Y-yesss oh gods yess I will, I- Ahh, I will, I will I will! For you I’ll be the best sex slave e-ever~ I’ll please you, I please you, I swear! I’ll make you cum… I’ll make you lose your mind… just watch me… watch me work my magic on your gorgeously horny body…~” he babbles between slurps and moans as his tongue shoves itself deeper into your gooey pussy. In that moment you finally realized the truth. You’re not the true mistress who uses your little slutty toy for your own pleasure, you’re the slutty toy he uses for his own pleasure. But there’s nothing that can be done to change it besides applying more and more weight to his hungry mouth. He chuckled maddenly to himself…

All according to plan~

Reblog + Comment + Like if you enjoyed and like to see more Danganronpa or Nagito specific content!~

(Sorry for that break, I needed a moment’s peace to realize why I’m writing in the first place. I’m back in action so don’t worry! Aaaaaand I’ll immediately go back to hibernation from binge writing this in only a few hours. Stay turned for my next post, love you guys!!~)

(Tags!~ 🏷️)

@nambii @carticarti

#danganronpa #danganronpa x y/n #danganronpa v2 #smut #danganronpa x reader #nagito #nagito komaeda #nagito x reader #nagito smut #nagito komeada x reader #I’ve finally returned to my roots lol #<3 #fem reader #afab reader

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 4: Love

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Here be the fourth chapter of the rework - you’ll all recognise this one! There’s some minor changes made to flow on with the previous stuff, but beyond that, it’s the OG third chap. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs​, my slap daddy lobster Ange, for reading through this chapter for me and making sure I’m not uploading total shite!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, objectification of women, age gap.

Daemon supposes it is true what they say about Targaryens—that they are proud and violent and easy to incite to desire and madness. He lives up to the name, he supposes.

Now that his want has come to light, he cannot erase you from his mind. He withdraws to his chambers for the next few days, making his presence around the Keep as scarce as he can so that he might avoid you. The prospect of looking at you—your wide-eyed innocence, trusting open expression, still his littlest girl beneath all that ripening—and recalling the depths of his degeneracy each time he meets your eye seems an insurmountable task.

But a new issue arises. He finds he quite literally cannot rid the image of you from his musings, the enemy that is his own thoughts discovering some new wretched path to you in all he does to seek distraction. His books remind him of your love for old Valyrian histories and poetry, of sitting with him, a great tome spread out further than your little arms could extend and reciting the letters in a halting tongue. Training with the sword strikes memories of how you’d fiddle with the pommel of Dark Sister whenever you stood by him, alerting him to your presence far easier than his own eyes ever could. Attempting to govern a bout of cyvasse is utterly dull with only himself as an opponent, and—blast it all—prompts reminiscence of how you’d choose to sleep soundly in his lap as a tot, wet smacking mouth darkening the front of his doublet as he’d match minds against Viserys with only one hand free, the other keeping you chained to slumber with gentle pats to the bottom.

Resistance is fruitless. And so, he gives into the desire. For the first time in years, he unfastens his breeches and takes his cock out with the intention of spending in his own hand.

How mightily I have fallen, he thinks drolly, spitting in his palm, grasping his shaft and allowing his imagination to conjure the likeness of sweet eyes and full mouth and shapely breasts, a precious little gift just waiting for the right recipient to unwrap and play. He thinks of your soft little hands and soft little voice, how darling you would look with those same hands on his cock and your stare wide and trusting, whispering his name in naïve question as he coaxes you to his completion, gifting you a pretty pearl necklace for a pretty little girl—

“Fuck!” he moans, seed splattering over his fist.

It stains his breeches and drips over his boots, inspiring sudden gladness that he hadn’t thought to revisit Sirille’s whore or seek out another of his old haunts, for not bending some meaningless fuck over and exerting his lusts on a cunt worth mere coppers in coin. The speed of his release would have been thoroughly humiliating. Wiping his hand distastefully upon his shirt, he wonders at how best to resolve his growing problem.

It is a problem. How you have unmanned him! How insipid it is to long for a girl of seventeen as though he is some pockmarked, upstart lad of lesser standing! If he were dull-witted, his ire at himself might very well drive him to rail at you for the manner in which you’ve ensorcelled him. But doing so will not aid his particular malady.

The brothel…Perhaps the answer lies in the past. The instant he thinks it, he wishes he hadn’t.

No. He shouldn’t ruin you. He will not ruin you. Besides, you had been deterred rather than encouraged by even his lightest provocations, his half-hearted flirtation failing utterly. In the face of his veiled innuendos and covetous stares, you had retreated into yourself, pulling away and levelling him with that soft, reproaching little mouse-glare of yours. Any other maiden and he would double down, pursue until he had overrun them and given them little choice but to lift their skirts and let him steal away their virtue. Yet, this brings him distinct discomfort. He cannot abide the notion of despoiling you so ignobly.

Daemon wonders at the hesitation, for it had brought him little pain to do the same to his eldest niece. He considers that because it had always been his intention to shore up his own succession—by either wedding Rhaenyra or destroying her reputation, getting her out of his way—the thought of doing the same to you had never crossed his mind.

Hm. What can he do, then? Wait for this—this feeling—to pass? He is the blood of the dragon, true; and, like the flame from which those winged beasts were born, he burns hot and bright and stinging—until the flame flickers away, doused by the merest brush of air or touch of water. In moments of want, it becomes a need, something he would kill and die to possess, and then another obsession takes hold. Men of passion—men like him—are so rarely faithful to their fancies.

Alas, you are no ordinary woman; it stands to reason that his lust is no ordinary yearning. You are everything he has ever envisioned in an ideal bride. The right bloodline. The right family name. The right temperament. These things alone…

It does not even take into consideration the simplest fact—that, though time and circumstance has changed so much, there is nothing that can destroy his deepest affection for you, his sweet little niece.

No closer to devising his way forward, Daemon does what he can to evade encountering you. It is hardly an effort, for you seem to perpetually cycle between the same activities and yet, simultaneously, are nowhere to be found. He shuns the obvious places—the library, your Hightower siblings’ rooms, Rhaenyra’s solar, the courtyard, the garden—and even deigns to add the training yard and the kitchen to the list. Luckily, he seems to have either frightened you off or had simply chanced upon a rare occurrence in which you were discoverable.

After four more mornings, he is unsurprised to see you absent once more from your father's table to break your fast. You have missed the previous occasions, too. A sennight and a day had been more than enough time for him to decide that he detested these mealtimes. Quite obviously an attempt on his brother's part to foster unity between the squabbling factions in his family, he is usually faced with the choice of either indulging in the bickering of the children or pretending he gives a fuck about anything the Hightower woman has to say. Not that Her Grace has been particularly interested in engaging him in conversation. Instead, she carefully plays the part of ignorance, watching him from directly across the table with her beady little eyes each time he so much as moves. Loathsome bitch. She must have a magical cunt for Viserys to have managed to pump four of those wretched spawn into her.

This is why he is startled when Rhaenyra and Laenor enter with their two boys, followed swiftly by you and that idiot Cole. You have an air of irritation about you, as though you had been interrupted at your leisures when your elder sister had come to collect you for the first proper meal you would see in days.

The sight of Rhaenyra—as lovely a sight as it is—sends a weak thud of hurt through his chest. But it is the sight of you that inspires a far greater reaction.

You are no less striking in the morning light that streams in from the open balcony. Garbed in a short-sleeved gown of powdered blue and wild hair pulled back in a simple braid, the adjustments only serve to emphasise the parts of you that had changed in the ten years since he had last seen you. Half-convinced that his first meeting with you was an inexplicable fever-dream sent by the gods to taunt him, he is once more besieged by the sight of your rose-bloom lips, your bare throat—why the fuck do you not wear jewels to cover up all that exposed flesh, the sight is positively lewd—and charming little tits peaked in maiden's flirtation. The dress does little to hide your endowments from his rapacious gaze, for all its modest bodice and looser fit.

He does his best not to let his turmoil play out on his face as you move further into the room. Laenor drops into the empty seat beside him, narrowing his eyes in a manner that suggests he’s noticed where Daemon’s attention has been focused. The lad’s fair to suspect him—his exploits in the Stepstones hadn’t been limited to warfare, after all.

“Father, Daemon,” Rhaenyra greets, settling herself down next to her husband.

He finds the noted absence of greeting to the Hightower woman wildly entertaining. While it is not lost on her, the Queen has deigned to overlook the arrival of her once-best friend. Instead, she turns to survey her ailing King in an affectation of care. He decides it is only polite to return his eldest niece’s salutation. Rhaenyra smiles in response to his well-wishes, an acknowledgement of his words and nothing more.

"Good morrow, daughter!” Viserys says to his eldest, looking fondly down the table as his grandsons are settled in at their seats. His gaze moves to you. “Ah, child! We haven't seen you in an age!"

He has brightened in excitement at his first glance of you, and you smile sweetly at him as you pass by to press a kiss of greeting to your father's balding head.

"My apologies, Papa," you say to Viserys warmly. “I have been ever so preoccupied with my studies, you see. I did not wish to fall behind.”

“Studies, my girl? I had rather thought you were avoiding Lord Denys again!”

He has to grit his teeth at the mention of that idiot. What in the Seven hells is Viserys thinking, allowing a lackwit like the Rose of Highgarden anywhere near you? To think that he’d be willing to ship you off to so ordinary an existence as the Lady Tyrell. The blood of the Freehold, forced to mingle with farming stock. What dishonour!

At the mention of the lord, your earnest little stare transforms into a myriad of quick-vanishing demonstrations of your distaste for the man. Daemon is savagely glad to see it.

“That, too.” You beam when your father laughs. It is a most pleasing expression on your features, a guise that erases the lingering pensiveness clinging to you like a second skin—one that you should always bear.

Would that he could replace the gloom that reclaims you so soon after.

“Darling.”

Alicent frowns at him from her position at his brother’s side. She appears to have caught him looking, not that he cares overmuch for her judgement. It intrigues him that she appears to be addressing you. He had thought the family quite divided by old and new—and as Aemma’s last living child, that places you firmly in the former category.

She smiles up at you, gesturing you toward her. “Come sit by me.”

Clearly, his assumption is incorrect. You happily proceed around your father to sit in the empty seat beside the Queen, placing you next to the youngest one, Daeron. He can only remember the name due to its similarity to his own. You grin fondly down at the boy, and it is easy to imagine you doing the same one day with his own son. You ruffle his hair when he makes an exclamation of your name, disregarding the snide glances offered to you by the older two. Ah, that is more like it.

“What are you working on currently, sister?” Rhaenyra interrupts his musings from next to Laenor, wordlessly reminding young Lucerys to pause his chatter while eating.

His mouth upturns when he sees you brighten, stopping in the middle of selecting fruits and cheese and pastries to pile on your plate. The shame feels like a distant memory as he watches you, dish aloft in your hand while you enthusiastically turn to engage with your older sister.

“I have been consulting with Ser Lysan on writing a compendium of the Dothraki language,” you say excitedly.

Who the fuck is ‘Ser Lysan’? And what in the Seven hells is she doing learning Dothraki? Daemon’s brow raises sceptically as he mulls over the fact that you—a sweet little untouched princess—appear to have dealings with horse-fucking, barbarous brutes in the East.

“There is some debate as to how we will proceed,” you add, carefully side-eyeing the oldest of the Hightower boys as he snickers at your pronouncement, “as our letters do not correspond correctly with the phonetics of their speech. We will have to either take creative liberties or devise additional symbols to signify these sounds.”

Perhaps he has woefully underestimated you. You seem to possess an intellect that may well be formidable—at least when it comes to your philosophies and languages. A fascinating paradox of a girl, he thinks, to be so clever and unknowing all at once. For all your book learning, there is much about the world you lack understanding of. It is tempting to remedy this in the most depraved manner possible.

Not here. Not now.

“That sounds… interesting.”

Rhaenyra sounds anything but interested. Does anyone take interest in your pursuits? Anyone at all? Looking around the table at the uncertain faces of those you call family, it appears not. No wonder you seem so alone.

“Dothraki, of all the languages to learn?” he asks. “An interesting pursuit for a princess.”

You make direct eye contact with him, arranging your features into a facade of polite courtesy; it is closed off, withdrawn, and you return your plate to its place upon the table.

“I am learning, yes.” You absent-mindedly reach across the little one beside you to remove a silver-handled knife from the second-eldest boy—Aemon, is it not?—and place it out of his reach. It is a good call; he had been poking the surface before him with the tip, gouging small divots into the wood. You disregard his protestations, continuing your line of thought. “I would not claim to be proficient, however. It is a complex language, and I have not studied it for long enough to consider myself fluent.”

“It is a savage language.” The eldest of the Queen’s sons has an expression fixed in what Daemon can only assume is meant to be a look of disdain. As ugly as the boy is, the effect is rather lost on present company. “No wife of mine will occupy herself with such things.”

This one too? Unbelievable. It would make more sense to betroth you to your brother than to the Lord of Highgarden. If only the brother in question wasn’t so… pathetic. Pathetic now—but when he becomes a man, a true peril to any chance she may have at happiness.

He swallows back bile at the thought. However would you survive being bound to a sneering wretch who sought to stifle any joy you might experience, and all for the sake of control? It is too harsh a fate for someone so pure.

You frown softly, shoulders squaring off in your disapproval. “Just because their culture is different, Aegon”—ah, yes! No wonder he was such a disappointment with a name such as the Conqueror’s to try and fail to live up to—“does not mean they are savages.” 

His nose flares with the necessity of suppressing his own amusement. Such guilelessness; such gullibility! You really are too sweet.

“They fuck their horses, don’t they?” Aegon asks disparagingly, echoing exactly what he had been thinking only moments prior.

The younger boy titters beside him. You open your mouth to respond, brow wrinkled in affront, when the Queen cuts across you.

“Aegon! That’s enough!” she says sharply, and the boy abruptly withdraws, tucking his head down and quietly resuming his meal with a muttered apology.

As a lull falls across the remaining occupants of the room, all that can be heard is the scraping of utensils over dishware and the hissing remonstrations of the Queen to her eldest, whispered reminders of how princes ought to treat those they are courting. Given that the recipient is three places down from her—and you are, in fact, between them—her words are neither quiet nor tactful. Your head bows, lower lip quivering only once, pretending not to hear as you pick apart the remnants of food on your plate.

“An intellectual, my daughter is.” Viserys breaks the stillness with forced joviality, engaging him in conversation once more.

He had paid little attention to the spat—no doubt avoiding his fatherly responsibilities as he has done since time immemorial, long since used to ignoring the conflict that sparks beneath his very nose. Daemon is simultaneously fond and contemptuous of his brother, the years having done little to change the spinelessness so central to his personality as man and monarch both.

“Always learning something new,” the man says merrily, “always needing books and tutors to satisfy that mind of hers. She would be a maester of the Citadel, methinks, had she been born a man.” 

She would be Prince of Dragonstone if she had been born a man, Daemon snorts to himself, and I’d not need be sitting here with the Hightower bitch and her offspring.

“Papa!” A pretty flush reddens your exposed ears and the apples of your cheeks.

He trails the path of the blush as it spreads to your chest, most assuredly travelling down to kiss the shy swell of your breasts under that damned raised neckline. He has never hated an item of clothing quite so much as he does your gown.

“That Ser Lysan Marios of hers,” the King explains. “A man from the Free Cities, do you know? She was ever so delighted when I solicited his services.”

A tutor, then. But what is his place in your life? This is what Daemon wishes to know.

“He is a respectable gentleman,” Rhaenyra says, no doubt having witnessed his perplexity. “Though it’s quite amusing, really; for an old man like him, he is rather adept at making his way about the Keep unnoticed. You’d think someone with such poorly knees would be easier to find.”

He hadn’t truly believed your tutor to harbour untoward feelings for you, but relief suffuses him, nonetheless. An elderly man with weak joints could hardly muster the energy nor stamina to seduce his young charge—especially a burgeoning little nymphet like you, so reserved and restrained, desperate for release from the bonds of propriety. His gut tightens at the image he has conjured.

“We always leave a note, ’Nyra,” you say, your posy-petal lips frowning.

“And by the time I send someone to find you, you have moved off elsewhere.”

You hum an agreement, picking still at the remainder of your meal. Daemon spies the Hightower woman’s pointed glare over you, the quailing of the eldest boy. The lad clears his throat and turns to you.

“Sister. Would”—he pauses to clear his throat again—“would you… care to take a turn around the garden with me? At, er—the hour of the boar?”

How the fuck has he managed to make it worse?

Daemon almost preferred his snobbish spite over this pitiful attempt at flattery. If he’d been uncertain as to the boy’s success at winning you over, he’s not anymore. There’s scarce to be any maiden who would accept such a snivelling offer.

You appear rather baffled. “Oh. I appreciate the offer, Aegon… but I am afraid I have plans then.” A polite smile of contrition curves your lips.

Your brother does not like this. With a barely restrained sneer, he begins to respond. “But—”

“—I am intending to visit Athfiezar,” you cut across, placid as ever. “You are welcome to accompany me there, if you wish?”

The boy blanches. “No!” He says, shaking his head.

You make a soft noise of acknowledgement, allowing your focus to drift to the small one immediately beside you. And, with that, the conversation ceases entirely.

Rhaenyra was right in asserting her inability to pronounce the name of your feral mount. The guttural inflections in your honey-sweet voice speak to something wild and untamed, a spark of the magic that had brought his line to life so long ago.

“Interesting name.” Daemon is unable to help himself. You blink disconcertedly at him as he speaks. It is the second time in as many occurrences that he has seen your countenance alight with startlement at his address. A nervous little morsel, you are. “A Dothraki word, is it?”

He can only assume this. Based on his few dealings with the horde of savages during his time in Essos, the word sounds similar to the harsh utterings of the khalasar.

“Yes,” you say, a pleased look crossing your visage. “It means ‘love’.”

What a name for such a monstrous creature. A little girl christening her first barn cat, all soft skin and sweet smile and doe-eyed delight. You squint at Rhaenyra when she chuckles softly. It seems he isn’t the only one to have such a thought.

You turn back to him. “He does not take well to others, I fear.”

That is an understatement. From all his existing knowledge of the wild leviathan, from his experiences with the beast growing up, from tales he had gleaned from around the capital, from accounts of old acquaintances and the from gossip of his family, your dragon—the fucking Cannibal, and isn’t that a story he’d like to hear—was an utter lunatic, as unhinged and vicious as he always was. Except, it seems, with you.

“A right bastard, too,” Laenor murmurs under his breath, just within Daemon’s earshot. “Do you know how many Keepers we’ve had to replace since that thing came to King’s Landing?”

He can imagine. Dragon, livestock and human alike, the dragon had little care for what it slayed, seemingly fulfilling itself on the blood-and-gore high of butchery. The thought of laying eyes upon such a creature thrills him to the bone.

You levy him with an inquisitive look, head tilted slightly. “Would you like”—you hesitate—“would you like to meet him, Uncle?”

Only a fool could refuse a proposition like that. Not in the least because of the Cannibal—well, so few would ever have the opportunity to come close to the beast and live to tell the tale. Through you, it may well be possible that he would get that chance.

But, moreover, how can he say no to your timid, earnest entreaty, the proverbial hand of offering held out and just waiting for yet another rejection? Hope draws your brows in a pleading arch, lips wet and parted, and it calls to mind the face of a much younger you, far freer in begging for his attention. Who could possibly deny you?

His mouth settles the matter before his mind has decided.

“I’d be glad to,” he says, warmed by the sunny beam that stretches across your face, bringing bright light to your eyes and a merry flush to your skin.

It occurs to him then that he has just invited himself to an entire span of unaccompanied time alone with you. You—the object of his waking reveries, his darkest deliberations, his filthiest wants.

Perhaps this will be what finally drives him mad.

The wheelhouse ride is a revelation—and not quite for the reason he expected.

You are surprisingly easy to converse with; high praise, coming from him. He is not one to enjoy casual discussion, finding most people utterly insipid, especially those of suitable station. Princes and lords and magisters are always far too concerned with crowing of their riches to be of much interest—and the women are hardly worth engaging with unless it is to persuade them to drop their smallclothes and let him bend them over in some abandoned hall.

It might just be his fixation upon you that makes you so fascinating. He cares not for the reason. Instead, he chooses to enjoy the rarity of the moment, listening to you talk about the weather, the food, the changes made to the city since his departure.

“We have been getting an increase in grain from the Reach, I believe, in return for silks and spices from Driftmark,” you say, filling the transport with the dulcet tones of your pretty little voice.

He wonders at how you have come to know this information.

“Papa allows me to be his cupbearer during Small Council sometimes.” Pride overtakes your expression. “I am not present often, but it is nice when he asks.”

It is expected of Rhaenyra as the heir to attend in her youth, but no such presumption falls upon you. How interesting that Viserys has chosen to allow his second daughter to be involved in the running of the Realm, small a part as that may be! Daemon had not thought his brother observant of you in any capacity whatsoever. In this, he’s happy to be wrong.

When you arrive at the Dragonpit, your faithful guard-dog Cole is waiting for you, having ridden ahead to secure the location for his young charge. Daemon rolls his eyes as the knight offers you his arm, assisting you down the steps and to the ground. You gratefully thank the Kingsguard—he has to clench his jaw tightly to resist saying something snide at the look of slavish devotion on the whoreson’s face—and take out leather gloves of deep black, a stark contrast to the blood red of your riding habit. You wear the Targaryen colours exceedingly well.

“Now, Uncle,” you say seriously, turning to him. “I do not usually meet Athfiezar at the Pit, so it is imperative that you do as I say.”

It makes sense that the dragon seeks refuge outside of the Dragonpit. The beast did not seem one to willingly enshrine itself in chains. His brow quirks in entertainment at your command, a war general in the shape of a little girl with a woman’s body, but tips his head regardless.

“Of course.” He has no wish to die for the sake of pride.

The Dragonkeepers have already begun to shift nervously in the open, unprotected space. What follows illuminates him as to why. He is startled when you stop in the middle of putting your gloves on to place your fingers at your mouth and release a loud whistle. The sound echoes toward the cavernous entrance of the building before you and sets off a cacophony of ringing screeches and roars from within. He cringes as the blast of noise assaults his ears and wonders what in the hells you were intending by doing such a thing.

Suddenly, a low rumble resonates through the air. He casts around for the origin of the din, seeing nothing cresting the horizon. Out of nowhere, there is an unearthly shriek. A hulking black shape tumbles from the cover of cloud, rapidly gaining size as it approaches.

The Dragonkeepers bark panicked orders to each other, rushing to clear the space before his little niece. “Inkot selās! Inkot selās!” Move back! Move back!

Daemon wonders through a wave of sheer panic if he ought to follow the Keepers’ example and dive for shelter, dragging you with him. The dragon isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. It is now close enough for him to make out the grim scores of scars marking its head, the eerie verdigris orbs glowing ominously within its immense skull, the sheer musculature forming one of the largest specimens of Old Valyria alive today. The dragon is quite dissimilar to the other Targaryen specimens, he notes, stouter and stockier and yet more serpentine than the winged creatures the Conqueror had brought to Westeros some hundred years before. He wonders if it is true that this one is from a different lineage entirely. He had never gotten close enough to survey it before now.

The great lumbering thing alights upon the dome of the Dragonpit, crawling with surprising agility to the edge of the structure and peering down. It sends a clatter of rubble spilling from the sides of the great dome as it crackles under the weight of it. At the sight of the Keepers huddled behind dragonglass shields, curled to the ground in vain protection of themselves, the Cannibal opens its mouth and screams. It is a haunting, hair-raising resonation that sends chills down his spine and near freezes the blood in his veins.

“Athfiezar!”

His gaze, having been transfixed upon the most terrifying entity he had witnessed in years, shifts to you. You have stepped forward, seemingly without a care, arm outstretched and calling happily up to the reptilian brute. He is about to pull you back toward him when he observes what might be the most deranged, impossible scenario imaginable.

The dragon stops.

It stops.

“Kesīr māzīs, Athfiezar!” you call again, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet. Come here!

Emitting a deep keening, its eyes split to you, pausing its rampage as it takes in the sight of you below. Daemon huffs an exhilarated laugh as the winged serpent cocks its head, pauses, and then begins scaling its way down the stone formation. It is heedless of the damage it is doing to the establishment as it tears its way through rock like parchment, wiggling down to touch down upon the ground before the mouth of the Pit. The beast is surprisingly light upon its feet for its sheer size, second only to the great she-dragon, Vhagar.

He can only watch on in amazement as you stride forward to meet your mount. The famed Cannibal bends its massive frame down so that you may lay your hand upon its snout and coo something tender and indeterminable from a distance away. The wyrm growls softly, slowly pressing itself against you as you talk. The Dragonkeepers have not yet moved from their protective stances, spaced out around the yard and cowering behind obsidian safeguards.

What the fuck.

And then, you are walking back toward him, an air of contentment unlike any he had witnessed about you emanating from your person and echoed in the radiant joy upon your visage. With your giant beast as a formidable backdrop, you look every inch a Targaryen conqueror. It is a most unexpected evolution in the child that had preferred to entertain herself by reading than by journeying to the Pit to see Syrax or Caraxes. The sight makes him breathless.

You are glorious.

“Kepus,” you say, reaching out to him. He is somewhat amazed to see you are the same person, the same girl with the same charming eyes and delicate features and alluring form, that you have not somehow metamorphosed into a goddess from ancient Valyria. “Would you like to meet him?”

His answer is immediate, wordless. When he grasps onto your hand, he notes that your grip is much firmer, more solid and more real than it had been the week before. You are in your element here, at peace within yourself and with the dragon feared by the entire world. You pull him gently with you towards the creature, unfaltering even in the wake of the chitters and low hisses it emits when it observes a newcomer heading its way.

“He will not hurt you,” you say kindly. “You are with me.”

The affirmation warms him. When you are a small distance away, you release his hand, stepping in front of him to murmur softly to your mount once more.

“Ñuha kepa bisy issa, ñuhus taobus,” you call mellifluously, once more extending your palms to stroke along the dragon’s head. It nudges you lightly, and you laugh in response. “Ziry ōdrikō daor.” This is my uncle, my boy. Do not hurt him.

There is an absurdity in hearing you kindly entreat this monstrosity as though it were a prize hound, born and bred to spend its days on the lap of a noblewoman at high tea. What’s more is that the wyrm appears to enjoy it, nuzzling into your touch like a kitten.

Athfiezar growls in warning as Daemon approaches, soothed only by the quiet humming you are making and the light affirmations of peace you are whispering. Shifting its weight around, it grumbles in irritated obeisance as it allows him near. When he is close enough to hear the beat of its heart, feel the waft of its breath on his skin, smell the typical scent of dragon stink upon the air, he stops and takes in the view. 

From this angle, he cannot see the beast’s hind legs, so vast is the length of its anatomy. The dragon’s powerful front legs and sinuous snake-like neck occupies his vision, the head bowed low to the ground in cooperation with its mistress’s will. Its sable scales ripple like onyx in the sun, flashing shades of coal and silver and gold as the light dapples upon their surfaces. The creature is maimed in several places, no doubt from its long history of aggression against its own kind, but the old injuries serve to heighten its aura of petrifaction.

It is a horrifying representative of its kind. It is everything he had ever adored stories about as a child. And it is yours.

“How is this possible?” he breathes, stepping closer to you. You glance back at him, mouth quirking gently at the expression of wonderment on his face.

You lightly entwine your fingers with his. When his eyes snap to yours, you tug him forward easily, placing his hand upon the Cannibal’s snout with your small hand laid on his own. He laughs quietly at the sensation of dragon-scale under his palm, a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief and sheer childish awe colouring his tone. For a man to lay his hand upon the Cannibal and live… It is the stuff of dreams.

“Raqnon jorrāeltas—hegnīr ūī zijot irughin. You stare wistfully at your mount. He needed love—so I gave it to him.

Though it is a relief to hear his ancestral tongue spill from your lips once more, a reminder that the years had not washed away all that is familiar, Daemon wonders if there is more to this unlikely pair than anyone had assumed. Both isolated, both starved for affection, both cleaving to each other for warmth and surety. The notion makes him unhappy.

My poor, lonely little girl… You never need be lonely again now that he had returned. 

He looks back up at the beast, Athfiezar the Cannibal, this wretched saviour of desolate maidens and broken dreams. The creature snorts, a puff of smoke jettisoning out of its nostrils in a sneeze. He jumps out of the way, startled. You giggle, laying your head fondly against its snout.

“Kara iksā,” he says. You are magnificent.

You smile as you look up at your dragon, your hand lightly caressing its colossal jaw—but Daemon’s eyes remain firmly affixed on you.

Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42100623/chapters/105935892

Taglist (😭 thank you!):

Now in comments!

To be on the taglist:

Click here to apply for the general taglist!  Click here to apply for the terms of endearment taglist!

#terms of endearment │ daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x you #a song of ice and fire #a song of ice and fire fanfiction #dance of dragons #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfiction #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #matt smith #daemon x reader #daemon x oc #daemon x you #fire and blood #house targaryen

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE ERASERMIC X READER

It's been over a month since Hizashi and Shouta kidnapped you and you were going crazy out of boredom and with nothing to do. They assured you that living with them wouldn't be THAT bad since they could take care of your every need and you would never have to work again. 

To top it all, you were also quirkless but having a smart brain didn't exactly help either since hizashi and Shouta made sure to destroy all possible means of escape for you. They rarely ever punished you and most of the times, punishments included leaving you isolated for a few days and having your favorite things take away from you (YES, even the CAT!) but to be honest, life with them wasn't ALL bad... they were nice and caring towards you, in a sickly manner of course that sometimes made you want to barf

You were sitting on the bed that you shared with your captors and you were watching a movie on Netflix on your laptop. You were bored out of your skull and weren't focused on the movie. You missed your old life dearly and you've always wanted to be an author and get your work published. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and you immediately started typing away on your laptop

After a few days, you finally decided to post your work online on Wattpad since you had a Wattpad account and you were an author there (Lol, I feel like I'm breaking the 4th wall). It had asked you to log in but failed even after you entered your password repeatedly. You decided to check your email to see if there was something wrong and when you entered your email id, you couldn't log into THAT too

''Hizashi, why am I not able to access my email?'' you screeched from the couch that you were sitting on while Aizawa and Mic were making breakfast for you. They came out of the kitchen sat next to you, cuddled you and Aizawa said, ''Now now kitty cat, don't tell me you don't know WHY we disabled your email now do you?'' 

''You. did. what?!'' you asked in a steely calm manner since you knew it would be pointless to waste your voice against them. ''Aww.. come on little songbird, don't be like that. We did it for a very good reason and it's for your safety. Who knows WHAT sort of emails you'll be getting from WHAT sort of people. They could try stealing you away and you would be in GRAVE danger without us and that's why you need ONLY us'' Hizashi chirped like he was explaining why he couldn't play with you 

''But.... I just need it for something. I swear I won't try contacting anyone! You guys can even be next to me if you want'' you pleaded with them as they traded curious and worried looks. ''Kitten, do you have a fever?'' Aizawa asked placing his hand on top of your forehead. ''Leave me alone, I'm fine'' you said grumpily

''What do you even need an email for anyway?'' asked Hizashi all curious like. ''Well, I've written a story and I want to publish it online so people can read it'' you said. Silence. That was NOT a good sign

After a few seconds, you heard Hizashi laugh and say, ''Oh you mean that action story which you wrote? It was quite good and amazing. Shouta and me liked it but tone down the violence all right baby? We don't want our precious little darling getting all violent thoughts now do we'' and started cooing

''Wait.... how did you guys even read it?'' you asked them confused as Aizawa said, ''From your laptop of course. You can't hide anything from us you know kitty cat'' and pet your head 

''So.... is it a yes?'' you asked them slowly. ''NO'' they both said in unison as you looked at them with sadness in your eyes and asked ''WHY NOT!?'' They hated seeing you sad. It broke and shattered their hearts into a million pieces, but they had to be firm with you

''We won't stop you from writing your stories and books. In fact, we'll encourage it but why do you want to share with the other underserving SCUMBAGS and filth who don't deserve to read your beautiful work?'' asked Aizawa. ''That's true and besides the internet is getting to be dangerous place nowadays so I think we'll have to limit your time of use on your laptop. We don't want to affect your health and it's all for your safety of course'' chirped Yamada enthusiastically as you leaned back in Aizawa's touch, silently crying as Hizashi wiped your tears away 

You were 100 percent sure that now they would CERTAINLY change the laptop password or make you use the laptop under their supervision for a limited time or not even LET you use it... but what could you do? You were helpless and powerless against these so-called pro heroes who wanted to save you from all the ''dangers'' in the society and you couldn't do anything but follow their rules and abide their conditions 

''Now come on and have some breakfast'' chirped Yamada and dragged you towards the kitchen as you saw Aizawa eyeing the laptop suspiciously. You knew you weren't going to use it any time soon, that was for SURE......

#yandere bnha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic headcanons #yandere erasermic scenarios #yandere erasermic oneshots #yandere erasermic imagines #yandere erasermic x reader #poly yanderes #poly yanderes x reader #yandere hizashi yamada x reader xx yandere aizawa

[intriq]

hotch being jealous heheehehehe

HEHEHEHEHE YOU GOT IT POOKS

i also request that you all go check them out because their writing is just MMM CHEFS KISS

they also joined my beta reading team recently so >:)

Character: Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner

Theme: ??? Fluff???

Word Count: 658

Title: French Marigold

french marigold; jealousy

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

The case that the team had just finished took days. Took them days just to find and apprehend the suspect. A series of headaches and hours of lost sleep, pouring over file after file over what had been discovered to be a reawakening serial killer that had done a disgustingly good job at staying under the radar for years.

And what better way to celebrate apprehending the culprit other than going out for a few drinks the moment they landed back in Quantico? What better way to relieve the stress that had accumulated other than going out for a night on the town, drinking shitty liquor at a shitty bar?

Hotch had certainly thought it wouldn't be that bad of an idea. He wasn't the type to drink, not often at least. But he figured you could use the break, so he stuck around just for you. He figured he'd just stay sober and be the one to drive you both home.

What Hotch hadn't taken into account for, however, was that just an hour into this precious bit of time of freedom away from stress and catching killers, was one thing. Other people hitting on you, doting on you. Buying you drink after drink.

Hotch stares from where he sits with the others, drinking a water he was now wishing was something stronger as you wait for the next round of drinks. Reid is spouting some fact in his ear he can't be bothered to listen to, or it's something about his regular games of chess with Gideon. Morgan and Garcia are also talking, but it's nothing but mindless buzzing in Hotch's ear.

His focus is on you, entirely and utterly you. On the man that had the nerve to scoot a few seats down from where he originally was, body language displaying disgusting over-confidence. A narcissist, he thinks. Hotch can read him like an open-book from here, and he only has a view of him from behind.

Hotch watches as you push away what is probably the fifth drink that guy has ordered and offered you in the past thirty minutes. He doesn't understand what is taking so fucking long for the drinks you're waiting on to be done.

Narcissist. Over-confident. Die-hard momma's boy whose never been told no in his damn life.

Those are all things Hotch reads within seconds.

"Hotch, you okay?" Morgan asks, nudging him. But Hotch only responds with a curt "yeah, I'm fine" while his eyes remain locked on you. Not even glancing away to answer Morgan when he speaks. He says something to Hotch after that, but it's just white-noise. Hotch doesn't care enough to pay attention; not right at least.

Hotch is on his feet in seconds when he notices the slightest change in the guy's body language. That subtle shift that screams confidence that is soaring far too high for Hotch's liking.

By the time the guy's opening his mouth to ask for your number, Hotch is there. He's not one for PDA, but in this situation he'd give a whole fucking show if it meant he backed off. Which is why Hotch brings just one arm around your waist.

"I think it's time we go home," Hotch speaks, keeping his eyes focused on you. He's not gonna give the pathetic guy behind you even an ounce of his time, especially not when he seems so crest-fallen at how easily your attention is immediately on him. How enraptured you are by him.

You open your mouth to protest, but quickly have your words die in your throat when you see the look on Hotch's face. It's one you've never seen before, if you could correctly recall.

So you just agree with a quick nod, letting Hotch lead you out of the bar with a hand resting on your lower back. You let him drive you both home.

"What about everyone's drinks?"

"Someone else can handle that, I'm sure."

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #criminal minds #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n

[sunshinebingo]

@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 3 - Confessions

Synopsis: Azriel is nervous about something important that he has to tell Gwyn.

Word Count: 1.4k

Read on Ao3

This is it. This is the day. Azriel is going to confess. Finally!

He has gone through a hundred different scenarios in his head and rehearsed a thousand different speeches. All of this in the hope for the best possible ending to this conversation. He isn’t even sure whether he is prepared enough for it. Anything can go wrong. But he can do it. Right?

Some may well think that it is no big deal. But for Azriel, and since it is Gwyn, it is the biggest of deals. He has felt the blood draining from his face the moment the realisation has hit him. Since then, a sense of dread has filled him every time he has thought of telling her. They have spent a lot of time together in the past week but the fear of her reaction has taken over every single time he had thought about admitting it to her.

Even now, he is still nervous despite being, as Gwyn likes to say, older than some of the rocks that have been used to build Velaris, and having been through much worse experiences in his life. But this is Gwyn. And he won’t be able to take it if he somehow ruins the precious thing that is their relationship. A few months aren’t nearly enough. He wants to spend years with his Gwyn. Centuries during which he intends to cherish her like she deserves and build a life with her.

“You know I care about you, right?” he mumbles to himself while pacing the length of his room. “No. You know that I care a lot about you, right?”

And on and on he goes until three knocks sound at the door of his bedroom and it opens without waiting for his response.

“Hi,” Gwyn’s sweet greeting soothes him as she walks in.

Azriel prays that her good mood will not be completely ruined by the upcoming conversation. He waits until she kisses his cheek – something that she always does when they meet, even if they are simply crossing paths and going about their business two seconds later – before he takes her hands and guides her to the bed. She sits down on the edge of the mattress with no question except for the silent one visible in her eyes and furrowed brows.

“I have something important to tell you,” he starts, squeezing her hand and kneeling down in front of her.

This is it. There is no going back now that he has her full attention. He has been holding onto this for long enough anyway. She deserves to know the truth.

“Is something wrong, Az?”

Azriel brings her hands to his lips and kisses her knuckles before placing their joined hands back on her lap.

“Gwyn.”

He takes a deep breath in. And on his exhale, he looks at her in the eyes and finally lets the truth come out.

“I lost your favourite book.”

Silence follows. Azriel’s eyes scan her face in search of a reaction so that he can know whether he should start running now or if he will have the time to give her an explanation and an apology. Gwyn’s face remains blank though her body has gone quite rigid since he uttered his last word. These could truly be his last words if she suddenly pulls out a dagger.

“Which one?”

A little relief washes over him at the calmness in her tone. It is short-lived however and disappears as soon as he notices her reaction at his following response.

“The one you lent me last week.”

Her eyes widen. Azriel feels her grip tightening on his hands.

“The first edition one?”

Azriel nods while internally debating if he should launch into the explanation and apology part now or if interrupting her interrogation will upset her more. So many questions and none leaving him feeling less guilty and nervous.

“The one that I tracked across Prythian for weeks?”

He nods again.

“And that by some miracle I managed to get the author to sign?”

He gulps. And nods again.

“HOW COULD YOU?” she shouts and harshly pulls her hands away as she stands up.

“I’m sorry, Gwyn,” he pleads. “I took it with me on my last mission so I could read it. It’s only when I got back home and looked for it that I realised my mistake.”

Gwyn crosses her arms and looks down at him with all the anger a female who has lost her most treasured possession can possess. It probably won’t take long before the dagger comes out.

“How could you be so careless? This isn’t meant to go promenading with. You know how much this means to me.”

Azriel abandons all the pretty speeches and decides to just go for the truth. He grabs Gwyn’s hand again and looks up at her from where he still kneels at her feet.

“It was extremely stupid of me. I’m so sorry. I’m already doing everything I can to find you another one.”

Gwyn stomps her foot down like a petulant child. “Yes. It was stupid of you,” she grits out.

She tries to withdraw her hand again but this time he holds on. She tugs harder, trying to turn away from him. Azriel holds onto her hand firmly even as she turns her back to him.

“Please don’t stay mad at me. I will make it up to you. I love you so much and I can’t stand when you’re cross with me.”

Gwyn suddenly stops trying to free her hand from his and slowly turns towards him.

“You... What?”

“I will make it up to you,” he promises.

He will do anything to avoid that Gwyn keeps her distance from him. He knows that she will be even more stubborn about it when he is the one at fault. The last time they had an argument, Gwyn, the petty minx, has done everything she could to be in his vicinity but not actually interact with him. It has been torture watching her act as though he wasn’t there at all.

“No. Not that. You said...”

“What? Don’t stay mad at me?”

“No, you idiot,” she says with an exasperated eye roll. “You...love me?”

Azriel frowns at her in confusion. “Of course I love you,” he answers matter-of-factly.

He watches as her expression morphs from shock after the anger to what he can only describes as wonder. A smile starts to brighten her face again and Azriel swears that tears start to line her ocean eyes. It only causes his confusion to grow.

“Wha- why are you smiling? Are you not mad anymore? Is it because I lo–”

He stops. And realises that it is the very first time that this confession has come out of his mouth.

“Oh!”

“Oh?”

Gwyn’s smile turns into a smirk while Azriel tries to process what he had just said. And why he didn’t say it sooner. Hasn’t he known for a while that he loves her? Hasn’t he been thinking earlier about how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her? Of course he loves her. And it has taken a stupid mistake for his mind to come to terms with what his heart already knows.

“I love you,” he whispers more to himself, as though testing the words on his tongue.

“I love you,” he says, louder, when he looks up at her.

Gwyn’s laughter prompts his own. At the first tear that rolls down her blushing cheek, Azriel stands on his feet, cups her face and kisses her as though he has been deprived of her lips for a long time. He pulls away after a while and lifts her up to twirl her around, barely avoiding that they crash into any furniture around the room.

“I love you too,” she says in between laughs after he finally allows her feet to touch the ground again. “And I forgive you for now.”

Azriel looks down at the one he is certain is the love of his life. She is it. Though right now he has no idea what he is being forgiven for.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #fluff and fun #I don't really know what to think of this tbh #gwynriel fic #gwynriel weeks 2024 #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #pro gwynriel

[immajustvibehere]

Hi there! You’re stuff is always sooo good! I saw your post asking for some inspo.

What if Arthur has a special night planned with the reader, but he has a bunch of tasks to do before he is free to meet her? The whole day goes from one bad job to then next, and all he wants to do is meet her later for this perfect night. And when he finally gets to the hotel where he’s supposed to meet her, he’s filthy, banged up, and exhausted. He has lost almost all his money that he needed to treat her to a perfect night by the time he gets there.

How would it go from there?

Simple Nights Spent Together

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

Summary: Reader wants Arthur to understand that every time they get to spend with him is precious :)

fluffy little good night story, thanks for the request!

1100 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

Arthur slowly opened the door to the hotel room he knew you’d to be in. This was the same room the two of you always occupied whenever you managed to snatch a few precious moments away from camp, often for some undisturbed intimacy. But today turned out slightly different than normally. The day didn't really go according to plan and now Arthur felt like he had failed you. Before he gave the door a final push, he looked at himself. Dirty, knuckles stained with dried blood and a bad conscience that the guy who shot and hit his satchel got away with it. It had been a grim realisation that hit him a tad too late, when he discovered the gaping hole in his satchel. His money and a collection of other possessions that had accumulated were now lost somewhere on the sprawling prairie.

The door wasn’t fully open yet, but Arthur hesitated.

"Y/N?", he whispered. The tone of his voice was enough to suggest that something wasn’t right. You had grown restless over the past hour, because the time you had agreed upon was long past and you had feared the worst. So as soon as you saw the door open and heard his voice, you discarded the book you had been reading and sat up.

"Finally! You okay?", you walked to the door, doing Arthur the service of opening it fully and letting him in. His shame would've probably prevented him to do so.

"'m really sorry...", he mumbled, not even looking you in the eyes. You didn't answer, still busy with scanning him for serious injuries, though glad you found none. Arthur took off his head to fiddle it awkwardly between his fingers, revealing his unkempt hair.

"Nothing to be sorry for, I can see that you've been held up", you offered a little smile before standing on your tiptoes and planting a peck on the cheek.

"I wanted to go clean myself up first, but I didn't wanna be any later then I already was...", for some moments, Arthur had even considered not turning up at all, but he knew the consequences of this would have been you worried sick for the entire night.

You helped Arthur out of his coat: "That's okay. Go get a bath now, I'll stay awake and wait."

"Yes, Ma'am", Arthur said unironically. He was about to walk out when he stopped. Holding up his butchered satchel. He would have to ask you for money. He turned around, his cheeks blushing in shame.

"Oh no! What happened!", you immediately took the satchel and looked at the damage. It felt light, the hole was big enough to drain it of most its contents.

"Bullet hit it..."

"Is your journal-"

"Had it in my saddle bag", Arthur explained briefly, "I-uhm...do ya have some change on ya?"

You gave him a couple of dollars without hesitation: "I'll get it fixed first thing tomorrow, I promise. Oh and-", Arthur had started to walk off, "Have you eaten?"

"I’m not hungry", Arthur replied, accompanied by a dismissive wave of his hand. 'Not hungry' was a subtle code for 'I haven't eaten all day, but please don't bother for me'. But of course, you did. The lamb chops you got from the saloon were done and you had carried them to the room only a minute before Arthur returned, his damp hair slicked back.

"Yer really shouldn't have...", Arthur commented when he saw the loaded plate and two bottles of beer.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I planned on eating that alone...", you grinned as Arthur approached you and gave you a quick kiss. He smelt pleasantly like soup, though the clothes he wore still gave the familiar odour of soil and pines. Arthur had tasted the meat that on your lips – apparently you had tried some – and sat down willingly. Eagerly, he finished the plate.

His shoulders were slouched, and you could tell by how slowly he blinked that he was exhausted and ready for some sleep.

"'m real sorry, darlin'...", Arthur sighed, "I really had something different planned for tonight than just sleeping..."

Arthur was hinting at some fun and intimacy, but you weren't even a little bit disappointed that none of this would be happening.

"Arthur", you leaned forward as your lips curled into a soft smile, "This is the perfect night."

The man looked at you like you were telling a stupid joke.

"Firstly...", you started and handed him a wet rag to clean his hands which glistened in fat, "you're alive. Can't take that for granted in this line of work, so this alone makes it a good night."

Then you helped him out of his clothes which he wouldn't need for sleeping: "Secondly, you're here. You came. You had a horrible day, I can tell. But you still showed up and I really appreciate that. Makes it an even better night, because we get to share a bed."

Arthur would often get this warm tingly feeling when you cared for him in this way. Not that he frequently found himself in situations where he messed up or ruined a date night, but sometimes things were out of control, and you never made him feel like you didn't understand that. Without resistance, he allowed you to guide him onto the pillow, his whole body sinking into the bed in the process. With pleasure, he watched as you crawled on top of him. He just barely managed to lift his hands to place them on your hip.

"And lastly", you pressed a light kiss onto his cheek, "Do you have one healthy arm to spare?"

Arthur didn't understand this question, shooting you a quizzical look before checking out his arms: "Both of them lookin' fine to me."

"And now if you, Mr. Morgan, have at least one of those arms to spare for me tonight, so I might rest my head on them instead of the pillow, since I much prefer your arm, I'd call this a perfect night", you called out in a theatrical matter, before falling onto the mattress next to him and resting your head on his arm.

Arthur chuckled warmly, pulling you into an embrace. "You sure are something...", he mumbled.

"Most of all I'm just happy to have you", you replied, snuggling up to him.

A contented sigh escaped Arthur’s lips. If he weren’t so tired, he might have found the words to express what he felt. It was the sentiment that it was his turn to express how privileged he’s to have you.  

"You know", Arthur whispered, his words slurred by the tiredness that washed over him, "I'm gonna make up for all of it tomorrow." He placed a suggestive kiss on your neck.

"Looking forward to it", you answered softly, well aware that sleep will claim you both in a few moments.

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction #arthur morgan x gn!reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader

[fragileruns]

oops hehe sorry i got super excited i forgot to give a plot line!!! as for plot, could we get smthing where reader is the complete opposite of tangerine (shy, timid sweetheart) and yet he’s still so drawn to her so he starts to routinely visit the place she works at (book shop, cafe, wtvr u want) and she has a bf who’s not the best to her n takes advantage of her kindness and trust, so tangerine helps her n talks her thru standing up for herself and even teaches her self defense just in case. tan starts to fall for her more n more and sees her as smthing precious, and reader is so captivated by this sexy intelligent man. n then one day tan is chilling at the cafe drinking coffee and reading (basically guarding her bc he’s protective hehe) bc she decided she was gnna break up w her bf and then when said bf comes in and she tries to end things, he starts getting aggressive and causing a scene so then our sexy tan just steps in all casually and shuts him down real fast and then that’s when reader’s heart skips a beat bc she realizes she likes tan (and tan may actually like her too) and so tan kicks ex’s ass to the curb and then checks on reader and calls her his “little badass” since she used her self defense on her ex when he tried getting handsy with her.

basically just some cuteeeeee fluff with some witty banter and unrequited love at the beginning but watching it grow into smthing more <3 thank again love

hi! sorry this isn’t exactly what you wanted but i didn’t feel patient enough to make it into a long fic, and i didn’t want to trigger anyone by adding actual abuse in here so i switched it a bit! let me know if you want something redone but hopefully it’s still good

tangerine x reader. content warnings: mentions of violent tones & the guy pushes tan but that’s it, cussing, female!reader, i didn’t realize how off i had written this until it was almost done so i’m sorry please rerequest if you’d like me to retry!

Tangerine was currently sitting in his usual seat, one right to the side of the counter you were working at. It granted him the best possible view (you) as he drank small sips out of this coffee cup, ‘reading’ the book in front him. Really, he was much more focused on watching you work.

He had been here for well over two hours and usually, he would have forced himself to leave by now. There was only so long he could stay without causing suspicion. Even when it was you - poor, oblivious you who couldn’t seem to realize that the only reason he ever came in was to see you.

However, after finding out about your asshole of a boyfriend from eavesdropping on your conversation (you were standing right beside him on your break, and how was he meant to ignore the insults being thrown at you when they were so blatantly untrue?), he had decided to make a bold step and tell you that you needed to stand up for yourself. Ever since then, you seemed to continuously have new questions about how to go about it since.

You opened up to him once, just a few days ago, about how you wanted to leave your boyfriend, how you were tired of feeling torn apart everyday, but you were scared. He had never been directly violent to you, but he was a strong guy, and you weren’t sure how he would take it. You didn’t want to become a victim. So, Tangerine had quickly suggested doing it in a public place where there were more people around to make sure you were alright. When you still didn’t seem sure, he asked if it’d help if he was there. You said yes.

So, he was spending the day at the cafe, the both of you waiting for your boyfriend to walk through the doors. You were nervously glancing up everytime the bell rang, and Tangerine desperately wanted to rub soothing shapes onto your back and tell you it would be alright. But, sadly, it wasn’t his place to do so.

After another few minutes of rereading the same sentence, the man Tangerine recognized from the last time he saw him in the shop with you walked in. He seemed in a fairly okay mood, or at least, he showed no outward signs of being upset.

Tangerine was instantly more alert, noticing the way you sucked in a breath and told your coworker that you’d be going on break, and he watched both you and the man as discreetly as he could. He could vaguely hear the conversation going on, and nothing seemed wrong at first.

You had given the man what seemed like a sympathetic smile, and from the way you were moving your hands around while you spoke, and from the way the man’s expression shifted to one of anger, Tangerine could assume you had told him it was over. He didn’t move though, smart enough to know that going to be by your side wouldn’t help matters any, not until he saw your now ex-boyfriend’s eyes flash with something ugly, hand raising.

That was when he jumped up. Reasonably, he didn’t think the guy would do anything even slightly violent in such a public space, but he didn’t want to take the risk. He wedged himself in the space between the two of you, his back facing you as he reached a hand back to grab onto your arm.

“You alright, love?” He asked, head tilted slightly back to look at you as you nodded, though he could feel how tense you were.

“Who the hell are you?”

Tangerine finally turned to acknowledge the man in front of him at the question, and his face hardened from the soft expression he had with you.

“None of your business. You should really get away from ‘er, if you know what’s best.” You were still hiding behind him, eyes filling with concern as your boyfriend only got more angry.

“She’s my girlfriend. Our conversation doesn’t concern you.”

“Ex. Ex-girlfriend.” You finally spoke up, your voice still soft and timid despite the spite that your words held. Tangerine felt proud, and he squeezed your arm to show as much.

“See? The lady doesn’t seem to want you here, so why’re you still hanging around? Go on.”

“Stay out of this.” The man was only getting more riled up, nose flaring and stepping closer to Tangerine. Clearly, he didn’t know who he was talking to. The thought made Tan smirk slightly, but it made you (who vaguely knew of Tangerine’s strength and abilities from the stories he had told you, though he still changed them as much as he could as to not scare you off) shake in place.

As soon as your ex boyfriend tried to push Tangerine out from in front of you, failing at even making him budge, you reached out to grab your friend’s arm. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, and you didn’t want to cause a scene - or more of a scene - in your place of work. Luckily, the few customers that were there had mostly filed out onto the street and your co-worker only stood close by enough that she could break it apart if anything should happen.

“Tan, it’s okay. I can handle this,” you spoke in your sickly sweet voice, and that and the feeling of your tender grip on his arm was the only thing holding him back from throwing the man against the nearest wall.

“Can you just - please go? I’m not going to change my mind, and it’s not going to be good for either of us if you stick around. So just go. Please?” Your attention turned to the other man, less kindness in your eyes now, and he only scoffed with an eye roll.

“Whatever. You’re not worth this shit anyway.”

What an idiot. Tangerine thought as the man walked out, and he only calmed down once he was out of sight and he could turn to you.

“I was handling it, y’know. You didn’t have to come in all… you-like. I would’ve been okay,” you sighed and Tangerine would’ve thought you were upset with him if it wasn’t for the concern in your eyes and the fact that you were still holding onto his arm. He made sure not to draw attention to that, not wanting to risk you pulling away.

“You think I was going to even slightly risk him hurting you?” Tangerine questioned as if you were insane, using one hand to reach up and brush a stray hair out of your face, needing any excuse to touch you. “Are you okay? D’you want me to take you home or anything? I’m sure if you explain, they’ll let you clock out.” He threw a glance over to your co-worker, who was kindly pretending not to notice the almost disgusting lovefest that was going on between you two (not that either of you could really view it that way, since you had just become single.)

“Um - actually, yes. Please. I don’t want him to come back after you leave.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving, but of course. Get your stuff, I’ll wait outside.” He gave you a small smile, squeezing your shoulder right before you walked off as he gathered his own things, and went to stand outside by his own car as he waited for you.

Once you come out, he turned to face you, frowning at the expression on your face. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just - thank you. For intervening. I know I said I could handle it, but thanks anyway. You’re a good friend.”

“I’ll always protect you, love. You’re my favorite girl,” He grinned and stepped forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, reaching down to grab your bag and throw it over his shoulder.

“I’ve just never really had someone on my side like that, and it felt nice.” You admitted, appreciative that he chose to ignore the flush of your cheeks after his innocent kiss.

“Well, now you do. And, since we’re being honest here, I really wish you would stop telling me what a great friend I am.”

“What? Is that - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” you rushed to apologize, even though you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. You were friends, right?

“No, don’t - I didn’t mean it for you to apologize. I mean, I like you. I thought that was obvious?” Tangerine seemed genuinely confused, as if everyone knew this fact, but you were almost jaw-dropped.

“It - uh, it wasn’t. You like me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, choosing to open up the passenger door and gently set your bag in the floorboard to hide away from the rejection he was about to face. He was such a confident man, yet was reduced to nerves just by being around you. “Sorry, I just thought you knew. I didn’t mean to make this weird.”

“It’s not. I just didn’t know,” you say quietly, looking like you were off in another world as you thought over things. Was that connection you felt with him shared this whole time? Did the way your stomach fluttered around him mean you liked him, too?

“Do you still want me to give you a ride home? I can call you a taxi, if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“No, no - I’m sorry, I-” you shake your head quickly at his offer, reaching out to grab his arm and then dropping it like it’s burned you. “I think I like you, too.”

He grinned, then, and his head tilted slightly. “Think?”

“Yeah, I mean - I don’t think I want to be with anyone right now, seeing as I did just get out of a relationship with-”

“The most vile man alive?”

“A not great person.” You finished, and Tangerine only chuckled. “But, I do like you. And maybe, if you’re willing to wait a little while, we could… you know. Be more than friends.”

Tangerine looked down right merry, and when his hand reached up to cup one side of your face, you leaned into the warmth almost embarrassingly fast.

“I would love to be more than friends with you. But, by the way. We’re going to have to talk about you having more of a back bone. Like - all those please go’s to him? Babe, I know how much of a fucking badass you are, you should’ve kneed him in the sack.”

“Maybe next time.”

#tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #tangerine #tangerine x y/n #tangerine fic #tangerine fluff #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine blurb #tangerine drabble

[lilspacewolfie]

would it be possible to do a cardinal copia x reader first date but the day of the date copia ends up forgetting due to a stressful day, and expects them to be mad but ends up telling copia its ok and ends with them cuddling copia and making sure he gets a good night sleep.

Thank you for being my first request! I really hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it! <3

Content: 1.6k words, gn!reader, very little description to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, soft copia, failed date, sweet ending, just all around very soft and fluffy, no beta we die like nihil!

The little Italian place in town is quaint and surprisingly busy given its midweek. It’s a small hole in the wall, cramped but lively, with beautifully arched windows and candles dotting each table that give off a warm, intimate ambience. 

Arranging a date with Copia had proven to be tougher than expected with both of your busy schedules. But when you managed to figure out the time, Copia had insisted on this place.  

You arrived early—about thirty minutes to be exact, not wanting to be late for your first date. You’ve gotten all dressed up and probably spent a little more on a new outfit than is warranted for a first date, but you want to make a good impression. 

There’s faint music playing above you, slow and swaying. You try not to think about how long you’ve been sitting there, growing increasingly more awkward as the minutes tick by. When you finally do give in and pull out your phone to check the time, you can’t help but feel a bit troubled. It’s close to seven. Anxiety rolls through you like a storm cloud and you swallow, debating on sending him a message. You had agreed to meet at six so you could eat, and then have enough time to take a casual stroll to the Ministry together. You had hoped to enjoy the spring air, but now that's starting to feel like a dream that sadly won't come true. 

You slip your phone back into your pocket and lean on a fist, drumming your fingers anxiously atop the red and white check tablecloth. It’s probably nothing, he’s a busy man, after all. Maybe he just got held up with some last-minute things. So then why hasn’t he texted? 

Copia is the last man you would expect to stand anyone up without reason, and you know he would alert you if he was running late. He’s sweet and thoughtful—you’ve been with him for long enough to gather that he’s one to commit a bit of self-flagellation when he thinks he’s messed up. 

Around you, couples cosy up and laugh, sip wine together and indulge in the restaurant's luscious food that smells divine. Your jealous stomach growls and you swallow thickly when the waitress approaches you for the second time that evening. You can see on her face that she’s hesitant to ask if you’re ready to order, and there’s something akin to pity in her eyes. Not that you need it. 

You’re staring at the rose in the little red vase on the table when she asks: “Are you ready to order?” 

Maybe he isn’t coming. Maybe he forgot? No, no, that's a stupid thought. Even Copia would tell you that himself. You’re a priority to him. 

An idea hits you. 

“Actually,” you say, turning over your laminated menu, “I think I am.”

She smiles, pulling out a little flip book and a pen. 

—

The Ministry is quiet when you make it back, carrying hot, precious cargo in a white paper bag. Your footfalls echo on the marble floor as you traverse the old halls, passing preserved paintings, stone statues of your Dark Lord and stained glass windows that bathe the halls in colour even at night. 

You know where Copia’s office is located, near Imperators just down the hall, and so you make your way over. When you get there the hallway is darkened, but you see exactly what you expected. His door is closed and there’s a thin slither of light spilling from beneath onto the oak flooring. So, he has been held up. 

When you knock, loud enough to be heard but receive no response, worry sits heavy in your chest. You knock again and wait, but still, there’s no response. Your gaze falls to the brass doorknob which you grasp and turn, the door creaking a bit when it’s open. 

Inside is warm, the light from the beautiful Tiffany-styled lamp bathing the room in a cosy orange. His desk is at the far end in front of a massive arched window and there’s a stack of papers on his desk. When you do finally see him, you’re suddenly not vexed or hurt anymore. In fact, you have to bite your lip to keep from giggling. 

Copia is snoring softly, slumped over his old desk with his pen still balanced in hand. He looks so peaceful that you don’t want to wake him, but you know his back and shoulders won’t be thanking him tomorrow if you don’t. 

Carefully you close the door, tiptoe over to the front of his desk and set the paper takeaway bag on the chair. When you round to his side and get a good look at him, you bite your lip again and something uncoils in your chest. The black paint around his eyes is a bit smudged and his handsome face is picturesque, the wrinkles across his forehead softened by the light. 

You touch his arm first, squeezing and rubbing his bicep through his red cassock. You rest your other hand on his wild, mousy brown hair that's sticking up and stroke it down gently. 

“Copia?” You whisper, shaking him a bit. 

He stirs, inhaling and stiffening before his mismatched eyes blink open. He’s awake in an instant, flustered and a bit out of it, and you step back to let him get his bearings. 

“Amore?” He blinks at you a few times, forcing himself to sit up in his leather desk chair. He glances at the clock above the door, then at you, then back at your clothes and his shoulders slump. You watch the horror and recognition play across his face.  

“Oh, cazzo,” he swears quietly, scrubbing a hand over his face, as he looks back up at you with big, glossy eyes. “Amore, perdonami, ti prego… I… Sister wanted me to finish some last minute things and I must’ve fallen asleep and—merda…” he says, anguished. 

“Copia, shh, it’s okay,” you soothe, taking his face in your hands and stroking your thumbs across the hair of his sideburns. He leans into your hold, wide-eyed. You shake your head, smiling and he deflates, pressing one of his leather-clad hands to yours on his face. 

“But you got all dressed up and—“

“It’s okay,” you say again and you think he might actually start crying, but you’re not about to let him catch the self-flagellation train tonight. 

“I’m so sorry, amore,” he whispers again, sadly. 

“Don’t apologise,” you chide gently, “you’re tired. It’s okay. I figured something was wrong when you didn’t show. Don’t be sorry, I know Imperator has been hard on you lately.”

He winces a bit, but you lean in and kiss him tenderly, soothing his hurt like balm on a stinging wound. He relents, stroking his thumb over your knuckles, and when you pull away he sighs. You know he’ll feel awful about this for a while, but at least you might be able to help him feel less bad. 

“I brought takeout,” you flick your eyes to the paper bag, pulling back. Copia follows, taking one of your hands and you help pull him to his feet. 

He groans, and winces again, muttering a few choice swears that make you giggle. When he looks you up and down with a new form of clarity that isn’t veiled by torment, his expression relaxes. 

“Sei bellissima, amore mio.”

You lean in and press your mouth to his, brief and chaste and Copia hums, wrapping you up in his arms for a proper hug.

You take dinner back to his room, letting the relaxed atmosphere carry you both into its sweet lull. 

You borrow one of Copia’s shirts and his many tracksuit bottoms to change into while he freshens up and scrubs the paint from his face. When you’re both done, you pop Bram Stroker’s Dracula on low in the background. You lounge together on his bed, munching on the takeout pasta and drinking the wine Copia had intended to give you at the restaurant. Every time he attempts to apologise for missing your date, you silence him with another sweet kiss that tastes of wine and creamy pasta sauce, watching him blush sweetly. 

By the time you’re both finished, bellies full and thoroughly warmed from the wine, you’re both too exhausted and comfortable to move. 

Copia’s flush to your side curled around you with his head on your shoulder while you play with his soft hair. You press the occasional kiss to his temple, smelling his zesty shower cream and the heady wine on his breath. You watch, quietly amused, as he tries to focus on the movie, blinking hard and forcing his eyes to stay open. You love it when he’s like this, vulnerable and sleep-warm. You don’t need a fancy restaurant. This is perfect.

“Sleep if you want,” you tell him, trailing your fingers lazily up and down his bicep. 

“Are you sure?” He mutters guiltily, lifting his eyes to yours. There's still small flecks of black around his eyes that never seem to leave. He looks adorable and exhausted. You gently wipe away the smudge of black on the tip of his freckled nose.

“Of course,” you smile at him. “You had a long day, Satan knows you need it.” 

Copia turns his face and kisses the skin of your collarbone, adjusting again before he settles. You tug the blanket that’s haphazardly thrown over you both further up his body and make sure he’s tucked in.

He’s asleep in mere moments, body growing heavy against your side, and the sound of his slow, laboured breaths mixes with the buzz of the movie as it slowly plays out.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

#ghost #the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #ao3 #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #cardinal copia fanfiction #papa copia #papa copia x reader #x reader