i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18
am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me
he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him
summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way
warnings: none
pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll
The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.
Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.
"Here, you can have mine."
The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.
"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."
"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."
The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.
"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."
"Really?"
While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.
"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"
"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."
The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.
"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."
She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.
"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"
Y/N scoffed and shook her head.
"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."
"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."
She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.
"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"
"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"
She laughed and shook her head.
"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."
Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.
"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."
She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.
"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."
"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."
She sighed and shook her head.
"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."
"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"
He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.
"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"
"I'll try to meet that condition."
Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.
At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.
Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.
However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.
"There she is."
Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.
"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.
"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."
"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"
She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.
"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."
Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."
Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.
"Lance..."
Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.
"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."
He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"Open the gift."
He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.
She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.
"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"
Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."
He chuckled.
"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."
Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.
"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."
Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.
"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."
Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.
The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.
Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.
"Here you are."
The girl jumped, hearing his voice.
"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."
"I needed some fresh air."
Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.
"I can't believe we got tipsy."
Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.
"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."
Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.
"I'm glad you came."
"I'm glad you invited me."
"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."
Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.
"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."
Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."
The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.
"You could be my girlfriend."
Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.
"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"
"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."
The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.
"I love you, Lance."
With love.
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Set in Stone
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.
Word count: 1k
Warnings: Angst but just a little to start
a/n: hi 😌 please enjoy my random inspo after the mess that is my life happened. I plan to write more for these guys so consider this a prologue :)
Masterlist ♡
~~
Time moved slower in the library.
People spoke quieter, the air stood still, dim sunlight stiffened in lines that cut across endless tables.
There was no real reason for you to be here.
None at all.
You welcomed the faint buzzing in your ears anyway, relished in the quiet you couldn’t find elsewhere. Flipping the page and going to the next, you pretended you did belong. Maybe as a scholar or researcher. Maybe an acclaimed author. An inventor, entrepreneur, alchemist—anything but the bleak reality.
You were stuck. So, incredibly stuck.
The high lord was coming today. You knew if you weren't in the hall with your family upon his arrival you would get an earful, but it was difficult to pull away from your beautiful corner of the night court.
No one ever came in here, and if they did they were over a millennium old and cared only for the books on foreign policy and probably the torture of young children, if you had to take a guess. But there was plenty of enjoyable material lining the shelves. Sure, it wasn’t very joyful, but it was informative, and anything was better than listening to your father blab on about your marriage prospects—an uncomfortable conversation that was to come to fruition any day now.
With any luck, your husband would be a merchant who traveled endlessly or a soldier whose life would come to a quick end, leaving you free of any wifely obligations. But luck was hardly on your side, and as the daughter of a noble you were expecting a husband of the same station.
And dukes were the absolute worst, all self-important and stagnant.
An unfamiliar echo sent your head whipping to the side before you could tame your reaction. The library door swung open with such force it sent dusty air flying past your face. Typically, the old men entered meekly, the hefty door difficult for them to open. The abruptness of this entry, the power that seeped across the threshold, had you standing and pressing yourself against the table in milliseconds.
You weren’t a fighter. Women were not allowed to learn anything of the sort here. You briefly debated if your embroidery skills would be enough to pose a threat to this presence, but that thought wisped away with the flickering shadows twining around your ankles.
You didn’t recognize him at first. The high lord and his circle didn’t come to court often, and even when they did, they stayed far away on the dais or slinked around in hallways threateningly. And this man especially—the spy—he was almost always cloaked in shadow.
His shadows weren’t covering him now, instead opting to twist up your body in a terrifying display. Were they searching you? Attempting to suffocate you? Paralyze you?
It didn’t matter much, not when the shadowsinger himself was standing before you, exposed and armed to the teeth, his amber eyes locked on your own widened gaze.
Your breath came out in short pants, uncomfortable and hard to capture. Your knuckles went white against the table, and you were sure if you were stronger, fractures would have appeared in the wood. The edge dug into your back. Shadows continued to make paths up your skin.
The spymaster didn’t look away.
The trembling began. It started with your jaw, then your legs, and then your chest. Breathing became nearly impossible.
“Take care of that.”
The last time the high lord made his rounds in court, those words had been a death sentence. One the man before you had carried out. A simple flick of his wrist and shadows had encased the lowly merchant that had insulted the high lady. His screams still echoed in the hall.
At least, they echoed for you.
The merchant was not a good man. Most that resided in the night court were not good people. But death was easy to come by here, and the shadowsinger—with his glaring siphons only inches away—was an executioner.
Your life was little, meaningless, no direction or purpose other than marriage and continuing a family line, but you wanted to live for the chance of more. For the hope that one day, you might be free of this dank palace.
Something softened in the spymaster’s eyes, and then he took a step forward, edging his hand towards you, palm up. The screeching of the table at your back made him halt. Your knees were shaking, your book now toppled over to the floor, and the shadows had refused to answer the call from their master. But you stood your ground, expecting a bruise where the table connected to your skin.
“I apologize,” the Illyrian spoke, causing you to flinch once again. His own features seemed to recoil, and he took half a step back. “I am here on business for the high lord. I only seek the artifact room.”
If you answered him, perhaps he would spare you.
Your mouth opened and closed several times before the first sounds left your lips. “In the back. B-by the archives.”
He nodded, but the action seemed delayed, slowed. As if he was measuring your reactions, trying to anticipate them. When you didn’t flinch again, he sent his hand out once more, this time with more force. Your breath caught, but when the shadows retreated from your body, some of the tension left you.
The shadowsinger sidestepped, taking the longest route possible around your table toward the artifact room. Once his back was turned, you scrambled. You left the book spine up on the floor, quickly gathering your belongings with shaking hands and trembling fingers. The echoing of the man’s heavy boots rang with each step he took, but it was reassuring—it meant he was getting further and further away.
It wasn’t until your hand met the sturdy door that fear crept back along the edges of your chest.
“Your name?”
The words were powerful, gravelly, but they were soft somehow. Effortfully tamed.
You gave him your name, but the sound was lost in the swinging of the door.
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𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐄.
It seems as if Rosie’s new assistant has caught the eye of the one and only radio demon..
pairing : alastor x fem! reader
extra : fem! reader ⟡ word count - 0.6k⟡ reblogs are greatly appreciated and encouraged! ⟡ alastor is probably a bit ooc and it might be cringe ⟡ also reader is a doe :3 ⟡
“Y/N, DARLING!” ROSIE YELLS OUT from the counter. Working at the Emporium alway called for restocks of a variety of things at every hour, ranging from fresh ankles to the classiest of hats. Walking over to the counter, you wonder what Rosie would have you restocking this time.
“Let me guess, it’s the gowns this time?” You ask playfully, not yet having noticed the peculiar man to the right of your manager.
Rosie looks confused before shaking her head and bringing attention to the man by her side. “No, no, darling! No need for restocks on the gowns just yet. I wanted you to meet one of my dear old friends!” She says, bringing your attention to the smiling man. “Now, where are your manners, Alastor? Introduce yourself!” She teases.
“Ah, yes, how could I forget my manners. I am Alastor, pleasure to meet you, darling doe!” He introduces, his almost sinister grin never leaving his face.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’m Y/N, one of Rosie’s assistants here at the Emporium!” You say with a joyful smile, sticking out your hand to shake hands with him.
He instead grabs your hand in his, and presses a soft kiss onto it. Rosie giggles, watching the two of you interact before teasing Alastor. “Well aren’t you quite the gentleman! Don’t go around stealing my employees, now! Then we’d have a problem.”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Rosie. Besides, your darling doe would be in great hands! Isn’t that right, doe?” He asks, smiling down at you.
You stutter, not knowing what to say. They both chuckle before a customer approaches and taps your shoulder, trying to get your attention. You turn around and ask if they needed anything.
“Yes, I was wondering if you could show me where the beautiful scarves are? I saw them around here last week and can’t seem to find them anymore..” They ask.
You agree to help them and take them over to where the scarves were, leaving Alastor and Rosie to talk by themselves. Rosie turns towards Alastor and asks, “Now, be serious, have you seriously taken an interest in her? Or is this some weird thing you’re playing at?”
“It truly wounds me to hear these accusations my dear Rosie! I do think she is quite an interesting thing as much as you may not believe it, it’s true.” Alastor responds, placing his hand on his chest, feigning his feelings of hurt.
“Yes, well it seems that I have to get back to working. It was nice seeing you here again, Alastor! Till next time, dear!” She says before turning around and making her way behind the counter and starting to take orders.
Alastor sees you around the corner of the shelves and makes his way over to you. “Well hello there, doe!” He says, sneaking up behind you and startling you.
You jump, not expecting him to appear out of nowhere. “Is there something you need help with?” You ask softly.
“Can I not talk to my dear doe without needing something?” He teases before continuing. “I just wanted to say my goodbyes to you. Is that so wrong?” He jokes before ruffling your hair, making your ears flop around a bit.
“Oh, in that case goodbye then, Alastor. It was a pleasure meeting you!” You respond, smiling softly towards him.
“Please, the pleasure is all mine. I must be going along now. Don’t miss me too much!” He teases, grinning widely. “Till next time, darling doe.”
© ceresun >ᴗ< -> my works are not to be translated or reposted without permission!
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Better for you
Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.
(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)
words: 4.6k
Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work)
warnings: kissing, suggestive content
a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts:
1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B.
2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."
WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.
"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.
Everyone but one person, that is.
She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.
How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.
It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—
What the hell was wrong with her?
She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.
"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."
His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."
"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.
She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"
His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"
She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"
Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"
She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"
"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."
"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."
"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"
"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."
"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."
Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."
He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"
"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."
"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."
"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."
"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."
She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."
Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."
Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"
"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."
"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."
She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.
His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."
She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."
Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."
"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."
"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."
She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."
"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."
Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.
She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.
"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.
She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."
He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."
"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."
"Alright, I won't."
That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."
"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"
She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.
"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"
Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."
“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."
Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"
Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."
Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."
"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."
She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.
Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.
She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."
He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.
She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"
"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."
"Must have been Garcia."
He grinned. "You know her well."
She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.
"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.
"Surprised? Should I be offended?"
"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."
"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."
"Including me?"
“Especially you."
Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.
"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.
Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."
She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."
"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"
"It's what we've always been doing."
"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."
She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."
He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"
"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."
Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"
"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.
Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"
He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."
She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.
"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.
She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"
Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."
She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."
"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.
"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.
Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."
Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.
Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.
"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."
"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.
She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.
"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.
Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."
"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."
He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."
He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.
Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.
"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."
They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.
But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.
"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"
She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."
JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."
She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."
Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."
"You mean manipulate."
He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."
From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."
"And you both look good together," Will added.
"Thank you."
"We're not together."
They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."
She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."
Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."
She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."
"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."
"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."
"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."
She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."
"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."
She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"
She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.
"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."
He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"
She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."
"What do you think they're saying about us?"
She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."
His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"
She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.
"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"
He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."
Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.
“…you don't hate me?"
"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."
She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"
"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."
She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."
Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."
She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."
"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."
Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.
She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"
Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."
A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"
He laughed. "Is it working?"
She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."
His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."
His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."
There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"
She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."
"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"
"To be a better person for you," he corrected.
Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.
The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.
"Stop looking at me like that."
Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"
"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."
His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.
But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"
Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.
As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!"
In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.
"Seven! Six! Five!"
But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.
"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"
The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.
Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.
And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.
She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?
A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.
Oh, fuck it.
Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.
Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.
Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.
The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.
He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.
"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.
"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."
His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"
She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."
He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."
She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."
There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."
"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.
He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."
The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"
His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."
Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.
"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."
The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.
"I suppose one more won't hurt."
His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.
She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.
.
a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3
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Regret
Pairing: DarkTom Riddle x (female) Reader
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
SUMMARY: Lying is a flaw that Tom doesn’t appreciate.
WARNINGS: Toxic relationship.
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.
Dedicating this to @insectgf cause she's Tom's no.1 fan 😋
--
You nervously wring your hands as you peer around, eyes searching for movement near the dimly lit dungeon entrance.
The way to the Slytherin Common Room.
You've been waiting for just over half an hour, anxiety building up and infesting your thoughts while you hold vigil in hopes of finding Tom.
You should have never behaved like that. An act of pure stupidity and recklessness, that’s what it was.
Going to Hogsmeade in the company of a few girls of your dorm.
It was a rare occasion, something you never did before, and you had only relented after much begging and convincing from the girls. A dumb decision – one that led to a dreadful aftermath.
You should’ve known better. All of your joyful chatter and laughter at The Three Broomsticks immediately ceasing once you spotted the distinct lean figure of Tom seated in a distant table, surrounded by his friends, his brown-eyes fixed on you.
No surprise or shock in his gaze, only cold anger irradiating from his handsome features.
Something almost comprehensible given how you had explicitly told him you’d be spending all afternoon in your dorm, offering the poor excuse of a headache.
And now here you are. Scared, shaking like a leaf, waiting for the chance to apologize and beg for forgiveness.
You're so pathetic.
The time drags by, and you lose track, feeling as if you’ve been waiting for an eternity. But your efforts pay off when the door opens, revealing Tom.
Your heart leaps at the sight and fear clouds your mind when he offers you nothing but a quick murderous scowl that immediately turns into one of composed indifference before walking away past you, barely acknowledging your presence.
You gulp, hurrying after him as he walks with long strides through the empty corridors.
“Tom?”
“Tom…please.”
The boy ignores your numerous calls, but you keep your hasty pace even when it has you short breathed as Tom quickly charges through the stairways and halls.
“Tom, just listen to me.”
“And why should I listen to anything you spew out of that filthy mouth of yours?" his snarl scares you as he suddenly turns. "It appears that lies and deception is all I can expect from you.”
You wince, barely opening your lips before Tom walks away, choosing to stare blankly at a wall.
The confusion in your mind dissipates as a large door materializes on the door and only then you realize that you’ve reached the 7th floor.
The Room of Requirement.
You hesitate for a moment but proceed to follow Tom as he opens the door with a loud bang. Your existence remains ignored and you take a few small steps inside the room, unsure of how to bring Tom’s attention.
“Tom?”
For a moment, the possibility of Tom disregarding you again was present, and you fearfully awaited as the seconds went by without a proper reaction from Tom.
He inhaled sharply, fingers tightening before he relaxed.
But when he finally turned to face you, you almost wished he hadn’t.
The venom that darkened his face had your heart faltering, his eyes narrowing into thin slits that held nothing but anger and frustration. He almost looked like a snake.
You felt yourself turning smaller at the sight, suddenly unsure of how to speak.
“I-“
“Trust is a rather curious thing.” he says with his voice oddly serene, “An invisible yet very powerful bond, one that defines the nature of one’s relationship. That’s how I perceive it.”
“So, tell me. How many times?”
You look at him, confused.
“Tom-“
“How many times did you break my trust?” he repeats himself, brows contorting with annoyance, “How many times did you sneak behind my back to meet up with those filthy mudbloods?”
“I- Only this time.” you tearfully admit, lowering your gaze to the floor as Tom angrily hisses something in that strange snake language of his. “I swear, Tom. I-I’m so sorry.”
“Just this once? And why should I believe your unreliable words? You seem to be very determined in breaking my trust, so tell me why should I consider any of what you say to be true?”
Your lips shake when you bring yourself to look at Tom, tears burning in your eyes.
“But, …” a minuscule sob cuts you off, much to Tom’s irritation, “it is true. It was only this once, Tom, I swear on my life! I never lied to you before, I promise.”
“I’m so sorry, Tom, I really am!”
The intent with which he examines your pitiful face sets you on edge, heart plummeting against your ribs as you don’t dare to say a word.
“Prove it.”
“Prove wha-“
“Prove me that you won’t repeat this act of disloyalty. Assure me how sorry you are.” the way his eyes glint with a new cruel motivation has a shudder running down your body, aware that nothing good will come out of his proposition.
“Perform the Cruciatus Curse. On yourself.” his lips curl at your bewilderment, clearly enjoying taunting you.
This time, the tears overflow and slide down on your face pitifully and you look at Tom, silently begging him with your eyes.
But there’s no empathy in his face. Only a vile purpose.
“Go on, do it.” he takes a step forward, his tone borderline threatening despite how lightly he speaks. “You can either punish yourself or I’ll do it for you.”
“Because I assure you that in the end, you will suffer.”
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What plan the Universe has for you 🪞
| Private readings here | | PAC masterlist| |$5 readings|
*pics stolen from pinterest*
Pile 1 🏹
“The heart is an arrow” — Inej Ghafa. 6 of Crows
I see that if have been held back from a certain endeavour, the Universe is now aligning everything for you to move forward. If you have been done wrong in the past, I see you rising above that and receiving justice.
For most of you I see that you will be able to nurture your project/endeavour and finally start working on it. Your enemies will be dealt with. Prepare to defend and STAND for what is yours. No matter how many people tell you your ideas are stupid, or they try to cut you down or don’t believe in you. You believe in you. The Universe believes in you and does everything for you to move forward. Nobody will be able to hold you back. Your ideas are devine, fiercely believe in what is yours and protect it with the might of your spirit.
I just feel the need to tell you that I love you and you got this, honey!❤️🙈
Please put in an ask in my box and tell me what it is you’re going through lately or what you’re planning, if you want)
Bye <3
PILE 2🧨
“I say whatever I want, I do whatever I want” - IDGAF by Drake & Yeat🎶
Honey, you are about to be so BLESSED. You’ve got an opportunity to shine here, my love. It’s so funny to me how your channel picture is a match and literally every single card that came out for you is on FIRE. Like, brrr. The Universe plans for you to rise in confidence. You are about to have a very joyful, prideful and inspired period of your life. Literally feels like you’re on fire. Your come in yourself is about to rise, you will be enjoying life more.
I asked the Universe WHY this is the case, and She says you have been in a resting period and have been completing a stressful cycle of your life. You don’t deserve all that stress, honey, gotta enjoy, ‘cause life’s too short for ANY bullshit that you don’t enjoy. So I suggest you go all OUT. Fuck them people who are thinking they have a say in YOUR LIFE. You do you, boo. For some reason I have a need to talk to you extra like that, but it’s the energyyy, okay. Go shopping, go play outside, do whatever it is that makes feel good. You deserve and you’re a Queen bitch!!❤️🔥 Don’t forget that.
That is the plan for you, dear pile 2 people.
What have you been doing prior that got you to exhaust you joy meters and resources like that? I would love to know. Come tell me.
Love ya, byeee~
PILE 3 🪞
“Oh, she doesn’t see, the light that’s shining. Deeper than the eyes can find.” — Scars to your beautiful by Allesia Cara
I see you breaking the chains others have put on you. You are going against what you’re told and you’re finding your true voice. It seems to me that you are indulging to much in the thing that don’t actually matter to avoid the bigger issues. You feel like you are being held back from your desires and the world is so close yet so far out of reach. It’s being unfair to you. You blame your problems on the world, but ask yourself, what exactly have you been hiding from yourself and why do you feel so comfortable shifting responsibility for your fortunes and misfortunes on a higher power. Isn’t it so convenient that it’s out of reach?
Ponder on this, please. Your picture is perfect for you, because that’s exactly how you feel. Like something or someone is holding you back from your freedom. But the truth is, the only one who can hold you back is you.
The plan is for you to realise this and close out this cycle. Find personal freedom.
Guys, this is my pile as well. Come talk to me however you want.
Bye-bye💜
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Loved and Landed (Steph Catley x Reader)
A/n Requested
-------
Steph lives a busy life.
There's her football life. Obviously.
There's her schooling life.
There's the life she lives with her friends and family.
And then there's the life with-
"Steeeeeph, come on, I wanna get there early, I'm not dealing with Katie leaving something for me to find, again."
There's incessant tugging at the sleeve of her red Arsenal hoodie.
Of course, her football life keeps her the most busy.
Especially when she has to drive it to and from home all of the time now that Kyra's living in the house as well.
It had been a hectic process, but the young midfielder had settled in quickly, taking in the familiarity of the Aussie herself and her club teammates' closeness around them.
Quickly becoming a child amongst the older girls on the team, much like a sibling to them, within but a few months.
That being said.
Kyra was a little shit.
And she knew it too.
A demanding one at that.
Hence why Katie had taken to knocking the young brunette down a few pegs.
Her cockiness was starting to show under the protection of the older girls, so the Irish captain had been messing with her enough to take the invincible mindset away from her.
Leaving her ultimately latched onto Steph now.
A lot.
"Seriously, Steph, please, I can't deal with her leaving shaving foam in my boots again."
The older woman raises an eyebrow at the pleading look on Kyra's face.
"You did this to yourself, Ky. Katie's only retaliating because you decided you were king shit enough to put hair dye in her shampoo."
The younger girl whines.
"Don't you think she's retaliated enough? I've had my shoes violated, my shin guards replaced with slightly smaller ones. I mean, the other day, my water bottle was filled with pickle juice. Pickle Juice! For gods sake."
Steph sighs, rolling her eyes slightly, grabbing the last of her stuff to shove into her pack, she gestures to the front door, to which the midfielder eagerly hurries out of and towards the car, waiting impatiently for the defender to unlock it.
"You've seriously gotta apologise to Katie or something. The girl has ten siblings, I can't imagine she hasn't spent her whole life dealing with bratty behaviour from little shits like you."
Kyra scoffs as she hurriedly buckles herself in.
"Rude."
"The truth."
Steph smirks at the small pout that forms on the other girls lips.
"Hurry up and drive."
"So bossy."
-------
As expected, they arrive with hardly any other people around, decidedly much earlier than any of the other girls. Katie wasn't the earliest of player's anyway, so Kyra really shouldn't be worried about her beating them there.
Still, the youngin looks exceptionally nervous as she peaks into the changing room and gingerly makes her way over to her cubby, scanning it with a ridiculous level of detail.
Steph can only shake her head, watching the young girl sheepishly wander around the room, checking for what may well be hidden traps.
Maybe she should talk with Katie about getting her to take it down a notch.
The Irish woman was nothing if not relentless when it came to getting back at someone.
The last thing the team needed was a midfielder with serious trust issues stemming from their infamous yellow card magnet of a winger.
"Ky, relax. She's not even here yet."
"Yeah, but you never know."
"Seriously, it's game day, relax, she won't-"
"Oh, hello, you two. Stephy. Kyra."
The ever so loud and joyful Katie enters the changing room with a bang of the door as it slams open and hits the wall.
Her smirk quirks up a little wider at the sight of the midfielder, who's looking rather sheepishly around her rather than at the Irish woman herself.
"You two extra early today, eh?"
"Ha, something like that."
Steph gives her a look as she nods in Kyra's direction.
"Give the poor girl a break, would ya? I think she's been thoroughly humbled."
Katie snorts in amusement, eyeing her up.
"Eh, she’s fine. I wasn't gonna do anything."
Steph raises a brow at that.
"....Yet."
There it is.
"Of course. Don't mess around too much, though. We still have a game to play, McCabe."
She lets out an unconvincing hum in response, right as some of the other girls start to filter in, Caitlin one of the ones to settle into her cubby beside the defender.
"What's up with the kid?"
Steph snorts.
"Ask your girlfriend. She's been torturing the poor girl."
Caitlin rolls her eyes, turning to Katie, who's now got a cheeky glint in her as she eyes up the younger of the three.
"Katie."
"What? I didn't do any-"
She stops at the look she gets from the Australian, grumbling as she relents and turns back to her cubby.
-------
Kyra's finally able to escape the locker room out of sight of the defender the moment the Irish woman is distracted.
Heading down the hall towards the physio room, she ends up coming face to face with and bumping face first into someone.
She groans when she rubs at her face and her backside from where she landed on it as she stands up again with the help of her assailant.
The person is stood in a royal navy uniform, a patch on her shoulder with three horizontal gold stripes and a small circled loop on the top, hair slicked back and tight into a bun behind her head.
'L/n-Catley' the name badge reads.
Confusion crosses her face which you quickly notice.
"You're Steph's teammate right?"
"Uh yeeaah? Who are you?"
"It's a long story and sorry about the bump there. I uh, I don't know if y'all know yet but I might need your help. The staff were nice enough to let me in but I need an escort here."
"Where are you going?"
"I got told to wait for one of the trainers in the staff room?"
"Can I ask what you're doing?"
"Waiting to see Steph, but don't tell her, it's supposed to be a surprise."
Kyra is extremely sceptical, but she leads you down the hall to where the trainers are situated and one of them recognises you immediately, hugging you and dragging you into the room.
She's even more confused when the staff member is nearly in tears.
Wait.
Navy uniform.
Here to see Steph.
L/n-Catley on the name badge.
There's no way.
"Are you... Are you married to Steph?"
You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck.
"Yes I am. If you can't tell it's been a little while since we've seen each other."
"Yeah, I can tell, her house is far too empty for the size of it."
"Ah, so you're the new roommate. Kyra, right?"
"She's been talking about me?"
You nod.
"We would call every two weeks. When she found out you were moving to Arsenal, I couldn't tell if she was happy or mad because you'd already trashed her white towels."
"Hey! That was not my fault, the wine just fell... on it's own."
There's a sheepish look on her face.
You chuckle softly.
"She'll be fine, the pattern was ugly anyway, we needed new towels... Don't tell her I said that."
Kyra smiles at that.
"It's great to meet you, then... How are we planning this out?"
"I'll have my sister here sneak me somewhere I can wait and surprise her at the end of the game."
She nods.
"Alright, I better get going then before the girls come looking for me for pitch inspection."
You nod back and give her a warm smile.
"Oh, I'm Y/n, by the way, Lieutenant Commander Y/n L/n-Catley."
-------
The roar of the almost entirely red and white crowd as the girls enter the pitch is as usual, deafeningly loud.
Home games are always the most adrenaline instilling games, ones where their fans are always the loudest, chanting and screaming every time one of their own touches the ball.
Steph can still hardly believe it.
The growth in the game. Breaking records every single home match so far.
The FA Cup semi-final was no different it seems.
Her eyes subtly scan the crowd as she jogs out behind the others, shifting from clapping fan to clapping fan. There's an air about the crowd.
A massively high inducing air, one that she can feel in every nerve ending in her body as she practically bounces around the pitch in warmups.
She brushes it off as it being a semi final type of high.
Aston Villa would be a difficult opponent and she assumed that was the reasoning.
-------
It seems she's proven wrong in the first ten minutes.
It doesn't take long for Stina to score, the home crowd immediately losing their minds, and they barely have time to recover just two minutes later when the Swede swoops in for the double.
By the fourty-fifth minute, they know they have the game. Four to nil over the Villans thanks to a Stina hattrick and a goal from Frida. Her heartbeat is thumping in her ears as they approach the final minute.
This is the part they're in the dark. How many minutes left of stoppage? How much longer does she have to defend?
The players are taught not to worry about that. To just play until the whistle blows. And she does.
But she can't help the nagging awaiting of the whistle, wondering when it will go.
The moment it does, there's celebration, relief, and a lot of cheering and screams and congratulation from the air around.
A pair of arms and legs wrap around her from behind as Kyra jumps on her back, the young Australian whooping into her ear.
"Onto the finals, Stephy!"
The defender chuckles and celebrates with the team, the announcer shouting out the home teams win to wind up the crowd once more.
As they do the celebration walk around the pitch, the announcer announces player of the match, and then one more announcement catches her ear.
Her head snaps toward the tunnel the moment she hears it, heart stopping at the words of the female announcer.
"And finally, one last round of applause. Let us congratulate and welcome back someone very special to one of our own. Lieutenant Commander Y/N L/n-Catley returning from fifteen months of duty at sea with the Royal Navy."
And truly, there you are, her wife.
Dressed to the nines in your Black, long sleeved uniform, hands clasped behind you, standing with a wide, almost teary smile as you watch Steph bolt across the pitch towards you, catching her with little effort as she jumps into your arms, knocking the cap off your head with the force.
The rest of the Arsenal girls stand shocked, looking between themselves and their left back at the sudden appearance of a totally new member of the Catley family.
Before they can even try to work out who you might be to Steph, the defender has her lips pressed to yours tightly, tears streaming down your face.
The sensation of finally being able to kiss you, her wife. HER wife, has her trembling against you, her stomach twisting and curling as you hold her tight against you, your own hands shaking as they rest on her back.
It had been the longest stint you'd gone without seeing each other, having been on a cramped ship for the majority of that time.
Even having been used to long times apart, the immense relief of being able to hold your person, your love, YOUR wife, after so long. was like nothing else you'd ever experienced.
And you were glad you had all the time in the world to experience it now.
When Steph's finally able to pull back and look you in the eye, hands holding your face, eyes scanning your features, noting a small scar under your right brow, and then returning to make eye contact again with you, albeit very tearily, much like yourself.
Lifting your own hands, your thumbs swipe away the tears on her cheeks, leaning down once more to kiss her, forehead leaning against hers.
You take in the immensity of the screams of the crowd all of a sudden, especially the crowd around the players' tunnel.
With that, she buries herself back into your hold, her nose buried into the crook of your neck.
Your eyes scan the pitch, watching the applauding or shocked expressions of the players.
You'd already known her teammates didn't know she was married, however their shocked expressions still have you chuckling.
All except Kyra's wide smile as she watches the two of you and you give the girl a wink.
"I can't believe it. You're here."
It's half whimpered into your shoulder, and you just barely hear it over the crowd.
"I'm here. I'm home."
"They finally let you on leave?"
She's using a half joking tone beneath the watery chokes and sobs.
"Better than that, Love."
She pulls away shocked.
"You mean.."
You smile down at her teary eyed.
"I'm home for good, not retired but they're giving me an office in London. Full time hours still but I won't be needed for duty anymore."
She frowns softly after a second.
She knew you'd always hated the idea of an office job.
Catching the look on her face, you knew what she'd be thinking about.
"I don't care where it is, or what I'm doing. I'm just glad I'm home, with you. I've had my fill of travelling and front line work for a lifetime."
Leaning your forehead back against hers, you let the moment sink in.
You'd known it was coming for months now, haven spoken to your superiors, and them letting you know there was a position available remotely, you'd taken it in a heartbeat.
If it meant coming home to your girl, you'd have done anything.
A small throat clearing a couple feet from you, the team had moved to stand around the pair of you, eager to ask questions of the brunette in your arms.
You nudge her softly with a small giggle in her ear.
"Babe, I think they have questions."
"They can wait a little longer."
You don't fight her on it just letting her settle into you again, holding you tightly.
The moment she does let go, she's grabbed by the shoulders and interrogated by the team rather swiftly.
Leah stands arms crossed.
"Now Stephy, when did this occur?"
Steph sheepishly smiles around her at her.
"Alright alright, Gunners, meet my beautiful wife, Y/n. She's been in the navy since she turned eighteen, we met five years ago when she was on leave in Australia. We started dating less than a month later and she left on duty about four months later. We got married after three years, bought a house right before she left a year and a bit ago. We haven't seen each other in person since then. Until now, that is."
And just like that, you're immediately dragged into the group rather swiftly, squished into several hugs.
A firm handshake and then a tight hug from their captain, especially. The Scot making firm well you know how quickly she'd bury you should you hurt their defender, despite the fact you'd known Steph longer and you chuckle, nodding in agreement at the stern look turned cracked smile she lets go.
When you're finally free, Steph takes no time tucking herself under your arm and wrapping hers around you, looking up at you slightly with a proud, elated smile, eyes still slightly teary.
Returning the expression, you press a small kiss to her nose.
"Welcome home, Baby."
You shake your head.
"Congrats on the win, Baby, this is your moment right now. Go celebrate for a bit, we've got all the time in the world now."
She pouts but relents with a small peck and nudge.
"KYRA, YOU KNEW?!"
The shouts of the Irish captain make her jump but chuckle a little as a gloating midfielder teases the rest of the girls.
Yeah. She was in for it.
-------
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Hi i was wondering if you could do a Vox X Angel Reader. If you don't mind of course. I understand if you say no.
A/N: Again. But this might be a two parter again. Or three. I don't know this one was super fun to write though!
Word count: 4.3k (4,232)
Contains: SLOW burn, Alastor is your friend, Charlie being Charlie
part 2, part 3, part 4
Summary:
Vox approached you with a deal too good to be true. He hid his ill-intent only to find him playing too far into the lie to the point where he began to doubt his true feelings. What was he really doing this for?
Deal breaker [Vox x Angel! Reader] Part 1
Your curious and overly empathetic nature mixed with your passion for justice always had the seraphims and other archangels keep their eyes on you. They tried to prevent you from rebelling by limiting your access to information.
You grew to be a well-known and respected angel in heaven so when word came out that you decided to stand by Charlie's hotel idea during the trial, more than half of heaven stood by it too. You were the furious version of Emily during then. You were enraged and demanded the information to be leaked to which Sera rejected immediately.
You threatened to spread the truth yourself and with that you were ordered to leave Heaven and join Charlie, never to set foot back in Heaven with such threats. You accepted being a fallen on the condition that they give the hotel a chance if you were to win against the extermination. Emily was more than happy to agree to be the joyful messenger to report good news and fix the stereotypes that they held on the souls of hell.
Sera went against this idea but Emily threatened to join you in Hell otherwise. You watched as Sera, a high seraphim, was backed into a corner by a fellow seraphim. The other angels argued amongst each other but were instantly persuaded by your opinion due to your reputation. You swore that you will win against the true fools of the battle, Adam and Lute.
You gave aid on Charlie's side against the early extermination by working to heal those who were gravely injured and protecting the weak. Ultimately winning in the end, a surge of arguments within the heavenly community led to an uprising in defense of the hotel. This very reason ended up with you falling like Lucifer. You weren't a seraphim but you sure as hell had the social status of one. With Heaven unable to condemn every angel that joined the uprising against the extermination so they settled with you. The fight, however wasn't won without casualties.
During the broadcasted fight, your power caught the attention of the overlord Vox. He was in shock that someone in heaven actually gave a shit about the people in hell. Soon after the war you received word that he wanted to have a meeting with you to discuss collaboration with VoxTek and Hazbin Hotel. Against Alastor's obviously biased protests, you agreed to meet with the infamous overlord alone.
"Vox, a pleasure to be meeting with you. I'm sure you've heard but my name is Y/N. Fallen angel, representative and advisor of Hazbin Hotel." You formally greet him, holding out your hand to which he shook.
"Y/N, I've known you since the last extermination, quite a sight. Please, sit." He pulls out a chair for you. How gentlemanly. "I've arranged this meeting to discuss possible collaborations with VoxTek despite our standing with your host, Alastor." His voice distorted when he said his name. It was a mystery to you as to why they despise each other so much, but it wasn't your place nor the time to know of the reason.
"Ah, yes. He protested against my decision to meet with you today, however and I am quite curious as to what you have to offer considering Hazbin Hotel needs not for what your company usually provides." You sit up, placing your interlocked hands on the table. "You are well aware that cameras and technology of that sort don't quite mix with our dear Alastor. So please, what do you have that we need?"
"Influence. I believe I can spread the word and convince sinners to attempt redemption better than Alastor's radio broadcasts." Vox noticed your eyes glisten with interest. "I know the hotel's against forcing so I won't use my hypnotism on the advertisement."
"Alright," You nod, "That's a decent offer. What do you request in return if I were to agree to this?"
A grin spreads across his face, "I want you to protect me and my company against future threats. That and I want you in particular."
You cock an eyebrow at his half ridiculous request, "Me?" You almost scoffed out loud, "What do you want me for?"
"Why, I would love to get to know you. You're more of a mystery than that radio demon and well, as an overlord, I have to know exactly who you are."
"And how do you propose this idea to work? Surely I am not worthy of such...curiosity. I have proven myself to not be a threat to the people of hell."
"Well, let me put this in simpler terms." He leans back in his chair, "I am interested in courting you."
You blinked in disbelief. An overlord? Courting a fallen angel? "Now wouldn't that be a conflict of interest? And if your courting fails, how are we to know that the Vees won't become a bigger threat to the hotel?"
"You're a fallen angel, you hold more power than the overlords and stand side by side with the king of hell. Not to mention that you're best friends with Princess Morningstar." He watched the subtle changes in your facial reaction, slightly amused but also slightly worried that you'd actually say no. "You are by far much stronger than Adam, who by the way shot laser beams from his fingers. We pose no threat to you."
"Ah but you are aware that I can be hurt with angelic weapons. You work with Carmilla Carmine, an angelic weapons dealer. So I ask again, how do I guarantee my safety alongside the hotel?"
"How about we make a deal then?" He proposed.
A deal? An angel, fallen or not, making a deal with a demon is not something you typically see, well, ever. You pondered and thought about the offer, humming softly.
"3 days." You finally spoke, "I'll need 3 days to consider this offer on the condition that you stay in the hotel. If you're truly willing to collaborate with us, you need to stay, see and understand the hotel in its full glory. In return for your approval of this condition, I will give provide you protection from Alastor and, may I be as bold to say it, force his cooperation."
Vox was a little skeptical but considering you are stronger than Alastor, he agreed. "Alright then, 3 days. When will this start?"
"I will let you know as soon as I speak with the staff of the hotel." You get up from your seat. "Is that alright with you?"
Vox gets up and shakes your hand, "Great. I'll be waiting."
You gave him a smile before teleporting yourself back to the hotel. As soon as you left Vox basically starts breathing hard as if he was holding his breath the entire meeting. The presence of an angel freshly fallen from Heaven is a heavy one. He composed himself before calling Velvette and Valentino to the room.
Back at the hotel you call for a staff meeting with Vaggie, Alastor, Charlie, Lucifer and Husk. You tell them about the events of the meeting. They, with the exclusion of Charlie, were all understandably skeptical and untrusting of Vox's word. Especially Alastor considering he hated this demon's guts.
The room distorts slightly due to his anger. "As the host of the hotel, I disagree with this deal. I say no. I do not collaborate with technology in the slightest and I will absolutely not collaborate with Vox." He hissed out. "That is a terribly foolish idea. I cannot comprehend why you would consider such a proposal."
"Yeah that guy literally tried to spy on us with Pentious as soon as he learned that Alastor was here." Vaggie crossed her arms, "As rare as this is, I agree with Alastor. I trust him more than I trust Vox."
"You guys, I think the proposal is a great idea!" Charlie defended, "He can get us more reach and other people aren't as..." She glanced at Alastor who tilted his head to the side in response, "...afraid of him. And! This hotel's all about redemption and giving chances, we can't turn our backs on something as big as this."
"My dear, surely you aren't considering this preposterous idea?" Alastor questioned argumentatively.
"Yes. I am. I stand with Y/N on this one. I think we should give him a chance."
"And what if he tries to fuck shit up here at the hotel? Then what?" Husk asks, "I'm not cleaning up after any more walls that get blown up." He grumbled, taking a swig out of his bottle.
"I hear your troubles and concerns regarding the idea but did you all truly forget," You glanced at Lucifer. He understood your cue and in unison you both reveal your six wings and the eyes that covered you both, "This hotel is under protection of not only the infamous radio demon but two high-ranking fallen angels."
"I agree with Y/N. If that little overlord tries to pull any stunts, I won't hesitate to fuck him." Lucifer proudly, and loudly, states.
Everyone, in response, stared at him.
"It's 'fuck him up' dad." Charlie whispers, "I told you this last time."
"Wait what did I say?"
You laugh at the mistake in phrase, "See? There is nothing to worry about."
"Okay but why does he want to do this? What exactly does he want in return, Y/N? I feel like you left that out." Vaggie asks as you and Lucifer put your wings away, reverting back to your usual forms.
"Well, he said he wanted protection and..." You trail off. All eyes are on you as they waited for what comes next. You take a deep breath in, "And he wants a chance at courting me." You calmly state, a nervous blush covering your poker face.
Husk spits out his drink and everyone, in unison, screams. "WHAT?"
All at once, protests, thoughts and opinions were thrown at you.
"All this nonsense for a chance at courtship? Foolish!" Alastor scoffed.
"The big bad overlord wants to fucking hit on you and you considered it?" Husk screams before reaching for another bottle to chug. "I'm too fucking sober right now."
"Ooooooh~ Y/N caught the attention of an overlord. You know what he wants-" Lucifer elbowed you before humping the air with a teasing look on his face, "Bow-chicka-wow-wow."
"HE WANTS TO DATE YOU?" Vaggie yelled.
"OH MY GOSH. HE WANTS TO DATE YOU? THAT'S SO CUTE." Charlie squealed in excitement, of course.
You sigh and rubbed your temples at the onslaught of statements. You patiently waited for them to all stop talking at the same time before continuing. You took this time to think this one through. You hardly knew the guy and he was willing to agree to spend 3 days in the hotel even with Alastor here. If that wasn't a commitment, then you don't know what is.
The arguing dies down and you get up, "I didn't state that I will enter a relationship with Vox. I simply said I'll consider his conditions of collaboration. Protection against future threats is something I can handle. The second part came out of the blue." You sigh, "Alastor. I am more than well aware of your indifferences and feelings on him but if you truly want this hotel to get more reach, you need to be able to put your feelings to the side and be more open-minded. Besides, if he were to fail here and in courting me, wouldn't you want to be there to see it?"
Alastor hummed, "Mmmm...You make a good point there. Fine. I'll agree to it. I won't harm him for a chance at seeing him fail." He grinned menacingly, his words covered with his radio static effect. "Though if he doesn't fail, what shall I get?"
You deadpanned and sighed, once again, "I'll bring you foolish prey that talk shit about you so you can let your anger out on them instead of him." You offered to which he decided to reluctantly settle for.
After you all came to the agreement, you send a paper notice to Vox telling him that tomorrow will be the start of his 3 long days at the hotel. Vox received the note you sent him while he was with Velvette and Valentino making him grin.
Velvette rolled her eyes, "All that to hit on the angel bitch? That's a weird-"
"-And pathetic-" Valentino added.
"-fucking move for power, Vox. Did you hit your fuckin' head or something? Do you need an update?"
"Pathetic? We get angelic protection equal to the protection of Lucifer. That would give us such an easy path to conquer this whole fucking ring!" He exclaims, laughing menacingly, "If an angel fell for that dumbass reason, there's no fucking way she's smart enough to see through the fact that she's the one that's going to be getting played."
.
The next day rolled around and the hotel lobby was decorated with basically every decoration everyone could find. There was even a sign that says "It's a boy!" on the wall? The same one they used for Lucifer's arrival. You shook your head, laughing a bit.
"Alright, Alastor. Remember, be nice." You remind him as he rolled his eyes.
"Yes yes, your highness." He rolled his eyes, sassing you. Though this idea was a crazy one, you and Alastor were friends. You had helped him gain a bit more of his power that was constricted from his mysterious chains. When you saw him bleeding in his old radio tower, you shared your powers through the means of a deal. A deal that he would trust your decisions and become your friend.
"Don't you sass me, Alastor." You joked, "Very unbecoming of you."
After a couple minutes of waiting, a knock sounds at the door. You open it to reveal Vox standing with pride. Confetti blasts behind you as you welcome him into the hotel.
"Welcome, Vox. To the famous Hazbin Hotel. I truly hope you enjoy your stay with us and we thank you for taking this opportunity."
"I don't thank him for shit." Alastor mumbled.
You side-eyed the radio demon before holding out your hand for Vox to take so you can show him around. He takes it and gives the back of your hand a kiss, earning an eye-roll and a couple of gasps.
"First things first, I shall introduce you to the staff." You walk him over to your friends.
"Hi! I'm Charlie. You probably already know me but welcome to the hotel!" She squealed, shaking his free hand, "You're going to love it here! You get to play our trust games today! Oh! And this is my dad, the king of hell, Lucifer!" Charlie grabbed her father to which he waved and just said, "Pleasure."
Everyone made their rounds introducing themselves to Vox and it was time for you to properly introduce the two rivals to each other. Vox came face to face with Alastor. Alastor squinted, his aura darkening and in response Vox starts to angrily glitch.
"Now now. A reminder that you two are to get along for the next 3 days. Or, at the least, not kill each other." You calmly state, "Or, I will do it myself." You threatened, your angelic eyes sprouting on your hair as you smiled at them sweetly, your hands gripping their shoulders a little tight. They pettily turn their heads away from each other.
"Now that introductions are done, I shall escort you to your room. Right this way."
You lead him into a room that you requested be ready for him. All rooms around it are covered with jammers strong enough to prevent him from doing anything sketchy or interfering with technology from his room, as per Alastor's request, but weak enough to allow him to properly function. You briefed him on this expecting him to protest but he just agreed without a fight.
His room was designed entirely on what you saw in his office, color scheme and all. Neon lights that he can control and change lined the walls and the corners. You decide to temporarily move into the space next to his so if anything were to go wrong, you'd be the first one there.
After settling in, Vox was subjected to Charlie's games and events that she had planned for the day. She purposefully pushed the two of you into pairs when given the chance, anything to get you two to become close. Alastor surprisingly behaved himself, too focused on his more important rivalry with Lucifer to truly care about Vox's presence. Vox, of course, took great offense to this and tried to pick fights with him which led him to getting punished.
By Charlie.
In her own Charlie way.
Apologies.
Anyways you end your day at the bar, speaking with Husk about his day. You listen to him grumble away at his irritations, giving advice when needed or asked but mostly staring at your cup of wine. Growing up in Heaven, you were only allowed to drink wine with levels of alcoholic concentration so low it's practically still juice. This made you a lightweight in the beginning but with enough time spent around Angel Dust and Cherri, your tolerance went up.
You were working on finishing an entire bottle of wine when Husk stopped his stories, grumpily walking away to pretend to do something. Vox had sat next to you.
"Hello, are you here for a drink?" You asked, offering some of your drink to him.
"Sorry, I'm more of a whiskey and rum type of demon." He declined, lifting his glass full of what looked to be rum. "Today I chose rum."
"How's your first day? Tiring, is it not?" You ask before pouring yourself another glass, "I'll be heading to bed as soon as I finish my bottle."
He laughed a bit, "You're finishing that whole thing by yourself? Never expected the angel to be an alcoholic. You getting used to Hell or something?"
You roll your eyes, "I like to indulge every now and then, Heaven is such an uptight place for angels like me. Indulging in alcohol was never a chance. The 'wine' there is quite literally juice. Ask Husk, he was disgusted." You pointed at the winged cat demon who nodded in response.
"Nastiest shit I ever tasted."
While you, Husk and Vox conversed you failed to notice Charlie sneaking up on you the moment you finished the last drops in your glass. She jumped as soon as you finished the bottle and smiled.
"Y/N! Vox! Since you two are more acquainted and you live next to each other, why don't you two walk together for the night?" She winked at you, egging on the idea of you and Vox dating.
"That's not necessa—" You begin before getting interrupted by an overly excited Vox.
"Gladly!" He grinned as he put his glass down. He extended his arm out to you for you to hold onto. You walk past him, declining his offer without a word. Your rejection at his attempt of affection sparked a flame within him. It definitely hit his ego.
"Catch up now, or I'll end up walking alone." You say, almost in a teasing manner.
Charlie gently pushed Vox after you to which he ran to catch up. While you two walked down the lobby and up the stairs, it was awkwardly silent. Vox's damaged ego made him break the silence first.
"So...What does an angel do...at night?" Vox internally slapped himself at the horrid attempt at conversation. You raised an eyebrow at him, befuddled at the odd question.
"We...sleep? Go into slumber?" You giggle slightly, "That was an amazing attempt at conversation."
Your giggle echoed in his head, replaying for a while until you spoke again. Vox was confused at his own reaction and decided to ignore it. He held his hands behind his back as he walked next to you down the hallway towards your rooms.
"Well I don't typically talk to angels. You're one of the three only angels here. Unless you count the dead one." His humor wasn't something he expected you to laugh at but you did. He was surprised. "Anyways. I'm allowed to try and court you while I'm here right?"
"Hmm. I suppose." You nodded, "Though, I have my doubts in your abilities to successfully do so. But you have my best wishes for your endeavors."
Your best wishes? That phrase almost made him scoff in response, holding back only for the sake of his facade. Though he did feel challenged.
"Is that a challenge, Y/N?" He asked, a mischievous grin on his face as he looked at you.
You finally reach your door which was right before Vox's, "Take it as you will. I will not condemn you from attempting." You smile at him, "Have a good night, Vox. Don't fall asleep too late."
"Whatever you say." He definitely took it as a challenge. "Good night, angel." He said as he opened your door for you. You thanked him before entering your room, shutting, but not locking, your door behind you. It didn't take long for you to get ready and fall asleep after.
Meanwhile in Vox's room, he took a look around. Double checking every nook and cranny for a sign of distrust like listening devices and cameras but to his surprise there were none. He was about to let his guard down until Alastor slid under his locked door using his shadow.
"Hello, old pal." The sound of his radio voice made the fellow overlord jump. He turned and made eye contact with the radio demon himself, menacingly smiling at him.
"What do you want, fuck face?" He hissed, his own voice covered with his stereo effect almost as if trying to one-up Alastor.
"I don't know what your intentions are here but I am almost completely sure you are up to no good. So we shall heed you a warning."
"Why did you say 'we' instead off 'I' or 'me' or something."
Alastor's grin widens as he unlocked the door for Lucifer to get through. Vox looked down at the surprisingly short king of hell.
"My daughter's formed a close bond with Y/N and if anything happens to her, you'll have to deal with me. And I don't think you'd want that." Lucifer threatened, eyes briefly turning red, "That's all I have to say!"He smiled as if nothing just happened and left to go to his room.
"And our dear, Y/N is a part of this hotel now." Alastor examined his staff before staring down the TV demon, "Under no circumstance for these next days am I to harm you but I will tell you this. Watch your intentions."
Alastor disappeared as quickly as he came, leaving Vox alone. He rolled his eyes at the warnings Alastor gave him, only really caring about Lucifer's. Right as he was about to settle into bed, a knock came at his door. He groaned in frustration.
"What now?" He complained, opening the door a bit too furiously, "What do you want—Oh. Hello, Y/N..." You stood in front of him in your pajamas. Which was a nightgown you got from Angel Dust as a present, it teased the dirty mind of whoever saw it but you honestly thought it was just a regular nightgown. Your cleavage threatened to spill out from the top at any wrong move and the shape of the dress partnered with the extremely light fabric meant that a breeze could easily blow it up.
It was a sight he wasn't expecting to see and if he was being honest, it flustered him to see you, a renowned angel, in such revealing clothes in front of his room at night. He awkwardly cleared his throat to snap himself out of his brief trance before hiding his nervousness behind a wide smile.
"Yes, Y/N? I was just about to go to bed. Do you need anything?" He leaned against the door frame, arms loosely crossed, "Or did you come here to tease me~"
You shook your head before handing him a box. "I forgot to give you this, I had left it on my nightstand and saw it before I laid to rest." You smile, "It's a welcome gift. I shall be heading off now. Good night!"
"Wai—" He spoke but you were already heading towards your room. He watched you walk away, eyes scanning the shape of your body as the nightgown landed on your curves. And he stared at your ass.
He goes back into his room to open what you'd given him. It was a bow tie that had the iconic Hazbin Hotel eye on it. Under it was a note.
'I made this myself. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I hope you enjoy your stay! -Y/N'
He felt himself warm up at the gesture which felt weird to him. He was there to try to win you over with manipulation, trick you into forming a deal with him and taking you for himself away from the hotel. And now he's blushing?
"What the fuck..." He whispered to himself, having mixed emotions on his original plan. He shook it off and headed to bed. He only had 2 more days after all.
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Forever and always | Choi Seungcheol
Synopsis: Despite the fact that death will tear you and Seungcheol apart, you can seek comfort in the fact that you’ll always be each other’s one true love. Forever, and always.
Seungcheol x fem! reader | reincarnation au, fluff, comfort | 0.9k words | warnings: mentions of death, petnames (baby and princess), minor nudity (Seungcheol is shirtless)
A/n: hbd my angel @brownsugarbaybee <3
“Cheol?”
“Yes princess?”
“Do you think we’ll meet again in our next life?”
“Yes. I have no doubt about it. We’ll always find each other.”
“Forever?”
“Forever. Forever and always.”
₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
Shooting up from your position on the bed, you blinked rapidly to try and regain your bearings. Dreams about your past lives were always disorientating. You placed a hand against your chest, trying to soothe the rapid beating of your heart.
“Baby?” Seungcheol called out from beside you, his husky voice still laced with sleep.
He shifted, turning around to face you. When he saw your panicked expression, he was up, rubbing comforting circles around your back to calm you down. Pressing a kiss onto your temple, he asked softly, “Baby? What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You whimpered, “I dreamt about the past again.”
Seungcheol nodded in understanding. While you both had been a couple in all of your past lives, you had a harder time than he did when the memories came flooding back to you. He never really had that problem. Afterall, he was always the one who succumbed to the grim reaper first. First it was disease, then it was starvation, a fatal wound, old age, conflict, and then disease again. Most of his memories were full of joyful, loving moments with you. However, in your case, you would bear the burden of having to remember and relive the pain and fear of losing him over and over again.
Seungcheol pulled you closer until you were lying on his bare chest, “Baby? Princess please, calm down. I’m okay. I’m here. Hear that? It’s my heartbeat. I’m alive. I’m with you.”
You snuggled closer to him, adjusting your head so you could hear his heart beating. It was loud and strong. You inhaled sharply, focusing on the rhythmic beats to let them calm you down. Once you felt better, you let out a shaky breath, turning so you were now leaning with your back against his chest.
“Feel better yet baby?”
“Definitely. Thanks Cheol.” You replied shyly, a little ashamed that he always needed to calm you down whenever you woke from a dream about your past lives.
“Do you want to… maybe talk about it?”
You could hear that Seungcheol hesitated when he asked that question. You knew that he hated the burden you needed to carry, that he was practically helpless in this situation. He couldn’t do anything but comfort you and let you talk about it. It was the only way he knew how to ease your burden or at least share that burden with you. Yet, he also didn’t want to pressure you into talking about the awful memories. They were traumatic and he never wanted you to force yourself to talk about it just because he asked.
Fortunately, today’s dream wasn’t that bad. So, you agreed, “Don’t worry about me Cheol. The dreams are always disorientating, but today’s dream was actually pretty sweet.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Yea. In fact, now that I think about it, I really like this dream. We were lying in a cabin, much like this one,” you giggled, gesturing to the space around you. You were both currently in a remote, cozy little cabin that Seungcheol booked for your birthday. He planned a wonderful surprise party, full of your friends and family. Once that was over, he promptly whisked you away, bringing you here so he could have you all to himself for the next 24 hours.
You smiled at that most recent memory as you looked around, your eyes landing on the flickering embers on the fireplace, “I guess we really like cabins. It’s probably our thing.”
At that, Seungcheol let out a laugh. Turning so you were now facing him, you continued, “Yea. We were talking about being with each other. Throughout the many lives that we will get to live. Forever and always.”
You flushed, murmuring lovingly, “I don’t think you remember that conversation, but it’s a beautiful sentiment. Don’t you think Cheol? To be someone’s forever. I don’t know, to me, it’s beautiful and comforting to know that you are my forever.”
When he heard you, Seungcheol only had one thought - that you were beautiful. Under the warm glow of the fire, with your eyes glazed over while you reminisced about the conversation you both had in your past life, you looked ethereal.
Noticing Seungcheol gazing so softly at you, you flushed even further, bringing your hands to cover your face in embarrassment. Seungcheol shook his head. He never could get over how adorable you were. Even now, after being together for so many years (in this life and the last few lives), you were still just as shy as ever. Cooing adoringly at you, Seungcheol slowly brought your hands down. Then, he leaned forward to capture your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.
Against your lips, Seungcheol muttered, “Forever and always princess. Forever, and always.”
What you said was true, Seungcheol didn’t remember that conversation. But somehow, he knew it did happen. His heart recognised your words, fluttering happily when you uttered the words, forever and always. What forever really entailed, he would never know. All he knew at that moment, was that you were right. He was your forever, and you were his. Seungcheol loved you, and it warmed his heart to know that you both would love each other for eternity, and perhaps even longer than that.
taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff @wishing-fieshes @kwanienies @mayashu @megseungmin @porridgesblog @haecien @mirxzii @scoupsofcherries @eightlightstar @brownsugarbaybee @zaggprincess2
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Can you write something about the protagonist being adopted by a family of heroes, but they just want to live a normal life, but the villain finds them? Please and thank you!
"So, you're the super new addition to the family."
Given everything that their new family had told them, the protagonist had been expecting it. Unfortunately, that didn't make it any less horrifying to hear the villain's voice behind them in the empty classroom.
The protagonist's shoulders tensed.
Someone would probably come running if they screamed for help. But what were most people going to do against the villain except die? Besides, the protagonist...
They turned, stomach twisting into a thorny knot, still clutching a paintbrush in hand. "I'm not going to fight you."
The villain raised their eyebrows at that, seeming amused. "Oh?"
The protagonist swallowed. "So if that's why you're here, piss off. With all due respect."
"Piss off with all due respect?"
"I have an art project to finish. It's 20% of my final grade."
The protagonist half expected them to saunter close, fearless and menacing, but the villain stayed where they were - leaned against the closed door in a long black coat and gloves. Everything about them was dark. A shadow come to life. Their smoky gaze roamed the painting over the protagonist's shoulder.
The protagonist was halfway through painting a seascape. Calm. Nice. Possibly twee, they knew that. The sort of thing that felt like it couldn't feasibly be in the same room as a supervillain like them.
"Yeah," the villain said. "If your teacher has beige walls and a puritan sense of right and wrong, they'll love it."
The protagonist's jaw clenched, but they didn't say anything.
The villain's attention fixed on them again, considering. "How is hero life?"
"I'm not a hero."
"No, you're a cataclysm waiting to happen. But I was being polite."
The protagonist flinched.
"That's why they took you in, right?" the villain asked, head tilting. "So they can keep an eye on you? Manage your powers?"
"They're helping me."
"Uhuh." The villain's eyes gleamed. "Do you think they love you? Like a proper little family?"
"I'm not joining you either," the protagonist said, after a winded beat. "So, again, with all due respect-"
"Piss off?"
"Please."
The villain smiled. "I'm not here to fight you. Or recruit you."
"Then why are you here?" The protagonist's voice quivered.
The villain shrugged, too light and careless for it to be true. "Curiosity. They said you wanted a normal life."
The protagonist could only imagine how that conversation had come up and gone down. They managed a small nod.
"You're not normal," the villain said.
The protagonist flinched again, despite themselves.
"Power like yours, destructive power, it wants to be used," the villain said. "Starts eating away at you if you don't channel it. Makes you ill."
The protagonist met the villain's eyes. Because, yeah, they'd noticed that.
"For what it's worth," the villain grimaced, like the very acknowledgement was disgusting. "I do think they're trying their best with you. I think they have good intentions. They always do. And better them, I suppose, then you being with someone who doesn't have any powers if things..." The villain twirled their fingers, and a smoky little mushroom cloud popped up from the tips.
"Yeah," the protagonist said, a little hoarse. That had been exactly their thinking.
"But it won't be enough. Their best won't be enough to contain you."
"We don't know that."
"I know that."
"This doesn't sound like curiosity."
The villain laughed, though it wasn't an entirely joyful sound. They straightened up off the door, finally taking that step closer.
"Curiosity in the sense that I'd like to meet the apocalypse. It's a one time experience. I'd kill you myself, but...you know. No guarantee that all that power inside you won't just go boom when you die. Better to adopt death incarnate, in this instance. Keep you safe. Love you enough that you don't want to end everything prematurely."
The protagonist felt bile, hot and acrid, rising in their throat.
"Piss off," they whispered. It definitely sounded more like please.
"You need to use your powers," the villain said, all laughter gone. "In small chunks. Micro doses. Otherwise you're going to be dead or blow us all up by the time you're thirty, and I would rather avoid that for as long as possible."
The villain reached into their pocket, pulling out an envelope. "A list," they continued. "Of the help you should be asking them for. They won't listen if it comes from me. But love isn't going to be enough, if you're serious about this."
The protagonist's brow furrowed. They hesitated; their family had told them not to take anything the villain offered. They took the envelope.
It struck them, after all, that the villain knew what it was to be a little bit monstrous. The villain hadn't chosen normalcy. But they knew, better than anyone else, didn't they?
The tension left the protagonist's shoulders. They sagged.
"Enjoy your normal life," the villain said, softly. "I hope you get it. And I hope, I truly hope, the rest of us will yet be lucky enough to survive you."
They bought the protagonist's art piece at the end of year presentation. The protagonist didn't know what to do with that information.
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“ NEEDY GIRL ” f!reader
SUMMARY: shidou stuffs a vibrator in ur needy pussy before u guys go out. you get ur revenge by riding him in the backseat of his fancy car (ᗒᗣᗕ)
warnings: f!reader, basically public masturbation and public sex, usage of vibrator, p in v, dickriding, finger sucking, slight nipple play, car sex, spanking, cumming in! (don’t be stupid!), unprotected sex, dirty talk mm!
“you’re so fine.” you smile at your boyfriend, eyeing his tall figure in the tall mirror as he tightened his tie.
“oh yeah?” he smirked, looking back at you through the reflection, his veiny hands adjusting his tie, before dropping to his sides. he turned his head back to you, relishing in the way your eyes dropped slightly, your breath growing shallow.
he raked his gaze over your body, from the roots of your pretty hair to the shiny heels you were wearing. he couldn’t help but place his hands onto your hips, tugging you closer to him.
“oh yeah.” you answer him, looking up at him through your cured lashes with a sultry gaze. your glossed lips kissed softly at his neck, and your freshly manicured nails snaked their way to shidou’s neck.
“mmh, baby.” shidou’s head tilted back, eyes almost rolling into his skull at the feeling, before fluttering shut as a sigh left his lips.
he hesitantly pulled away from you, a frown finding it’s way upon his lips as he saw the pouty expression on your face.
“what?” you say, the disappointment evident on your pretty features as your hands placed themselves on his chest. “did i do something wrong?”
he quickly shook his head, a large hand already planted on your rear, where he rubbed gently. “no, not at all. we just have to go soon, so you have to behave.” he whispered, before kissing the soft spot of skin beneath your ear.
“come on, please? you never say no to—“ your plea is cut off by a slap to your ass, and a sharp glare from your boyfriend.
you look up at him, hands beginning to tremble as tears pooled in your eyes, threatening to ruin the makeup you had spent so long doing.
shidou’s eyes widened, before narrowing once again. he’d usually never decline a chance to fuck you, but he couldn’t help but feel bad for his sweet baby.
“wait here,” he mumbled, almost like a promise, as he gently kissed your forehead. he then turned around, opening the drawer to his side table.
he quickly returned, a small vibrator in his palm as he grinned mischievously down at you.
he dropped to the floor, big hands pulling your dress up as he kissed up your plush thighs. he smiled at the way you moaned, your eyes fluttering closed; completely oblivious to his little scheme.
he hooked two thick fingers around your panties, before stuffing the vibrator into your little hole. “my good, needy girl.” he’d coo, a finger fidgeting with your clit before he fixed your panties.
you whined, confused as your eyes opened once again, looking down at your boyfriend who was busy pulling your dress down. he stood up once again, planting a sweet kiss to your cheek before turning around.
“cmon, bae. we’re late.” he hummed cheekily, a grin on his face as he strolled towards the door.
☆ ☆ ☆
the room buzzed with joyful chatter and laughs, various famous footballers and their wive’s drinking together and other things.
…that wasn’t the only thing buzzing.
you tried to stand still, you really did try. but with the continuous vibrating straight on your neglected clit, you couldn’t help but steer the conversation you and one of shidou’s teammates were having towards the couches.
you sat down, ignoring the way the little device hummed just into your sweet spot. you clenched your thighs together, leaning back against the cushiony plush of the couch. a soft, unnoticeable moan spilled off of your tongue as your eyes fluttered shut.
“so, as i was saying—“ who was it? oh, aiku continued his speech about…
“i’m sorry, what were we talking about?” you say, a polite smile on your plump lips as you looked over to the dual haired man, eyes opened once again.
“oh, i was just thinking.. does your boyfriend treat you well?” he lowers his voice, body leaning a little closer to his as he narrowed his eyes slightly. “i haven’t seen you with him the whole evening.”
“oh, haha..” you’d laugh awkwardly, unsure how to even react at his words. “no, he treats me…”
you feel a jolt against your clit, the buzzing intensifying significantly as shidou eyed you from across the room.
his pink eyes sharpened as he watched his teammate lean closer to you, his thumb already unlocking his phone where he increased the level of the vibrator snug in your— no, his pretty little pussy.
he wasn’t one to get jealous, not ever… it just irked him to watch you get so close to his teammate with a vibrator so far into your hole.
were you really that mad about earlier?
“name?” aiku’s voice snapped you out of your small moment of pleasure, your eyes flicking back towards him as a soft, shaky sigh slipped from your glossy lips.
“my boyfriend treats my perfectly fine.” you say, sitting up straight, thighs pressed tightly together in some sort of desperate attempt to relieve the growing heat caused by the stupidly pleasing vibrator.
“oh.. that’s good.” aiku scoffed, a smirk on his face as he looked away from you, eyes focused on shidou, who’s back was turned to the two of you as he chatted up Itoshi Sae. oliver looked back towards you, shuffling slightly closer to your body.
you eyed him, raising an arched brow in question. “do you need something?” you ask, tone slightly sharp as a frown finds it’s way onto your (lip gloss/skin colour) lips.
“no, just wanted to move closer— couldn’t hear you that well.” he chuckled, a muscular arm draping over the couch behind you and you groaned. just what did this manwhore want with you?
“i need to go.” you state, standing up from the couch, before waving him goodbye and taking your leave.
each step you took was almost painful, with the way your pussy was being vibrated against ruthlessly. the click of your heels was silent against the floor as the party’s music and chatter of the people in the room drowned it out.
after what felt like years of painful buzzing and uncomfortable small-talk, you found yourself back at shidou’s side, your manicured nails trailing down his arm.
“babeee..” you whine softly, staring up at him through the layers mascara painted onto your pretty lashes. “can we go now?” you plead, thighs rubbing together slightly, begging for release.
you’d gone through about an hour of almost cumming, only for your ‘loving’ boyfriend to set the level down to 0 once again. “please?”
he eventually caved in, unable to deny the pleading expression on your face as you practically rubbed yourself onto him.
☆ ☆ ☆
the car door slammed shut, with shidou giggling in the front seat at the angry pout on your features.
“that wasn’t funny.” you huff, eyebrows furrowed together as you leaned over the divider, face moving closer to your boyfriend’s.
“it definitely was, sweets.” he’d chuckle, pecking your lips slightly.
you frowned, before pushing the car seat back, straddling your boyfriend’s lap as your pretty nails dug into his shoulders.
his eyebrow raised, a grin forming on his face as he registered your actions. “aw, is my little baby feeling pent up? well, let’s get you to the back shall we?” he hummed, shuffling over to the backseat where he adjusting your position on his lap, so the forming bulge in his dresspants rubbed perfectly against your clothed cunt.
he let out a moan at the sensation of your nails fidgeting with his hair, your free hand trailing down his body and towards his belt, where both your hands met to quickly unbuckle him, shuffling his pants off with a little help from shidou.
soon enough, his pants and boxers were pooled on the car floor, your panties already in shidou’s big hand as the other pulled your dress up to your waist.
you positioned yourself ontop of his unfairly massive dick, ignoring the chuckle leaving his lips. “you sure you can take me, baby? you haven’t been prepped yet~”
he knew you could take him, with the amount of wetness almost dripping out of your poor little cunt.
“such a needy girl.” he chuckled, warm hands placed on your hips as he helped you sink down onto him, lips kissing at your neck. “how are you feeling?” he’d him against a forming hickey he had just created, tongue licking the bruise gently.
you shuddered, moaning out an “okay” as you blinked away the tears forming on the corner of your eyes.
you lifted yourself slightly, before slamming back down onto his cock, the two of you moaning together at the delicious feeling.
the vibrator had been long gone, with you bouncing fervently bouncing on his large dick, pornographic moans leaving your lips. the straps of your dress fell against your shoulder, and your boyfriend wasted no time in pulling them down, lifting your arm up as he pulled the chest of your dress down.
he stared down at your chest for a moment, before a moan spilled from his lips as you slammed down rather roughly onto him— he ultimately chose to simply rip your dress off, fingers hooking around your bra where he ripped that off too, ignoring your frustrated moans at his actions.
he flicked a finger against your nipple, groaning at the loud moan escaping your lips. “you like that, huh baby?” he’d hum, rolling your erect nipple with his thumb and pointer finger.
he loved this— he loved you. the way you so eagerly engulfed his dick, tits bouncing right in front of his face as the loudest moans you’ve ever spilled from your lips rang against his ears.
your thighs began to tremble as a coil tightened in your tummy, the movement of your hips quickening and the moans leaving your mouth increasing in volume.
“that’s it baby- mmh! ride me just like that!” shidou moaned with you, a hand reaching down to spank your bubbly ass. “you’re doin’ so good!”
you whined in response to his words, before gushing over his fat cock, body falling limp as your boyfriend pounded up into your pussy, his hands finding refuge in the fat of your hips as he chased his high.
soon enough, he found himself cumming straight into your pussy, not bothering to pull out as he moaned out loudly. “suucchhh a good pussy, isn’t she?” he chuckled out gruffly, hand rubbing your sore hip comfortably as he leaned back against the headrest.
both of your soft and tired pants were the only thing you could hear at that moment, head practically spinning from pleasure.
“my needy girl.”
author’s note: pls request to be in taglist if u want. also requests are open!
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Heyyy, i love ur jjk fics so when u posted abt writing for aot i SCREAMED bc ik you'll do it justice 😩❤❤
Do u reckon u could do like a levi post rumbling fic bc i need the confort rn and SO DOES HE I NEED HAPPY LEVI PLSS ❤❤❤🙏🙏🙏
When I tell you I had to write this IMMEDIATELY <3 Please let me know if you like it, this is my first AOT fic EVER
Levi finally getting his happy end with (y/n) after the rumbling
Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader
Word Count: 2k
Synopsis: When he met you after first stepping a foot at Marley, Levi didn't forget you until the very end. But while he thought you died through the rumbling, he meets you again for his happy end.
Warnings: this is the comfort I needed, I actually had to cry while writing this, not proofread because I wanted to publish this asap
Tags: @sanicsmut begging on my knees, please I hope you like this
You’ve been on his mind ever since he met you on that fateful day at Marley. So gorgeous that he couldn’t take his eyes off you, a smile so sweet it could melt even metal. Yes, you were so different from what he expected to find across that ocean, a truly pleasant surprise to say the least.
“Oh, you are quite small for a grown man!” you commented, giggling so effortlessly that Levi wasn’t able to even react to your rude comment.
“But to be honest, I’m a little small myself. Well, not all of us can be tall, right? Where are you from, stranger?”
“None of your business.”
His voice sounded harsher that anticipated, making your joyful face drop in an instant. Why…Why the hell did it even bother him to see you like that, that sad glow that formed in your eyes?
“I’m not from here”, he added.
“Oh, I see! Don’t worry about it too much, it’s like everywhere else!”
Oh, if you only knew how wrong that statement was.
His eyes landed on your right arm and the star that covered the sleeve of your blouse. Why would you wear such a badge? Upon closer inspection, he noticed your shattered clothing, the hem of your earth coloured dress completely torn.
Before Levi was even able to react two men ran into you, forcefully pushing your body into the dirt of the streets.
“Get out of the way, scum”, one of them hissed towards you.
Anger rose inside his veins immediately. You were just standing there, minding your own business. Why on earth did they push you?
“Watch your step”, his voice suddenly called towards the men.
“Please, it’s alright. Don’t get into trouble because of me.”
And then your hand rested against his shoulders, making his heart beat so loud that Levi swore you could hear it. What was this? Why did your little innocent touch turn him all flustered?
Something about you just seems different. No, despite the fact that it is so wrong, despite being here only for a mission, his mind wanders to you every free second.
Even though you might be dead by now.
“I will leave after tonight”, he announced into darkness, your moonlit features making it hard for him to focus on staying serious.
Your lip began to tremble, glossy eyes darting towards him.
“What? But why do you have to leave? You just arrived…”
“I came here because I have a mission to accomplish, (y/n).”
“But you will return when you’re done, right?”
The hopeful tone in your voice killed him from the inside. Oh, how much he wished he could just take you with him, how much he’d love to have more time with you. But this is simply not possible.
His cold eyes glared at you through the darkness, desperately trying to keep his composure.
“I might never return to this place, (y/n).”
You felt like someone pulled the ground from beneath your feet. Within the last few weeks, you learned that Levi’s hard façade isn’t more than a trick. No, in fact, he carries a character made of pure gold.
You started to like him.
“Then I’ll find you wherever you’ll go.”
And you did. You never missed to write him letters. Levi can’t help but wonder how you did that, your elegant handwriting following him through the darkness of the night, lighting up his mood despite the situation he’s in. Yes, he looked forward hearing from you every single day.
Until the rumbling started.
Until he didn’t receive any letters from you anymore.
It broke his heart, waking up from his coma with all that was on his mind being your stunning smile.
“Did I receive any letters from her?”
“You mean (y/n)? No, not until it all started. She lived in the northern area of Marley so it’s very likely that…”
His heart shattered into a million pieces, dead eyes staring into the distance. Your beautiful smile, that promise you gave him the night before he left. The thought of you getting trampled to death…
“Don’t say it.”
“Hey, maybe she did it somehow. (y/n) is a smart woman. I’m sure she found a way out.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, shitty four-eyes. She’s dead.”
He has seen it all, countless people died in front of his very own eyes. Why would it be different this time? Why shouldn’t you of all people be taken away from him? A little spark of luck, a minor ray of sunshine in this sheer darkness.
He leans back in his wheelchair, darkness consuming him all over again. You deserved so much better, your whole life was still ahead of you. In a world that never wanted you, you always kept your smile as bright as the sun. Despite the fact that they treated you like the dirt underneath their feet, despite how poorly the circumstances were, your smile beamed brighter than anything else.
“What would it give me to burry myself in sadness? I only have this one life, why not making the best of it?”
The best…
“Fuck!” he cries out, slamming a nearby book against the wall in frustration.
Why you? Why out of all the people, you are the one who had to lost her precious life? He never had the chance to tell you how he feels, how you turned his world upside down, that he survived for you.
Dear captain Levi (I love to call you that),
How are you? I hope your mission is going well and that you’ll return soon. I have some exciting news to share with you! After working so much over the last few weeks, I was finally able to buy myself a new dress! Although I wanted to get a white one because I know you love the colour, I bought a dark green one in honour of you. When you come back, we’ll be matching!
I miss you and our conversations late at night. Please tell me you and the others are okay.
In love,
(y/n)
That dark green dress he never got so see, the joy you fuelled inside of him despite being hundreds of miles away from him. God, how much he misses you. How much he fucking misses talking to you through the darkness of the night, to hear from the world through the unwavering veil of your optimism. What would he give to stretch out his hands after you for once, holding you tightly against his chest? It truly kills him from the inside, knowing he will never be able to hold your hand or kiss your lips tenderly, that you’ll never tell him old fairy tales anymore.
You were special. An angel in a world full of devils. Your word alone should have been enough to end every war in the blink of an eye. It definitely was enough to end the war inside himself.
“Captain Levi, will you assist me?”
“Stop calling me that, Onyankopon”, Levi mumbles, silently following the taller man into the heart of the city.
The war made the remaining 20% realize how precious being alive is only after their lives hanging on a thread. While the others carried on with their lives, Levi himself got stuck in this cursed city, the city he last saw you in. Returning to Paradis would mean giving up on you, giving up on the spell you put on him. And he simply can’t take it. Even though the whole town got destroyed by the merciless feet of titans, despite numerous people telling him than no one was able to escape, he always looked out for that dark green dress you described to him.
“Thank you”, a little girl giggles at him, eyes widen at the delicious sight of the lollipop in her hands.
All he can do is stare at the ground in front of her tiny feet with empty eyes. How nice it must be to have something to hold onto in times like these, after losing everything and everyone.
“Hey, can I get another one?”
“Don’t get greedy, young lady!”
That voice, that angelic voice almost reminds him of you. How long has it been since you last spoke to him? So long that the sound of your speech slowly fades in the back of his mind.
But that woman, that woman almost sounds like you. His gaze wanders up her dirty shoes, the hem of her green dress…
A green dress. Dark green, to be exact.
“Levi?”
His eyes widen, his heart stops beating.
No, this can’t be. Is it a dream?
“Levi Ackerman? Is that you?”
His gaze darts towards your face, time stands still. Your facial features, your joyful eyes. It’s you, it has to be you. Without any doubt.
“(y/n)”
He can’t catch his breath, his orbs lingering over your delicate figure, your dark green dress.
That dark green dress.
Before he can stop himself, his eyes get glossy. It is really you. You’re standing in front of him, uninjured, just like you did before.
“Levi!”, you cry out.
In the matter of seconds, you kneel in front of him, hungry arms holding onto his frame for dear life. Oh god, how much you prayed to see that man again, how much you longed to finally be able to hold him in your arms.
“I never gave up hope. I always believed in your abilities and that you’ll return to me someday”, you mutter against his chest, your salty tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt.
“I thought you were dead.”
His voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper, hand running through your soft hair. He always wondered how it would feel against his fingertips. And now you’re here. In his arms, alive.
You are alive.
“I’m fine. I did leave this town just in time because I wanted to see you again. It was a close call, I almost got crushed but…I made it. I couldn’t leave after telling you the fairy tale about the fox and the rabbit, right?”
Silent tears stream down his face like a waterfall while you cry rivers against his chest. His whole life Levi was haunted by loss and grief. As if he was cursed, everyone around him seemed to die in front of his very eyes. Just after letting himself fall, after trusting someone, after gifting them his feelings…They just lost their lives like flies.
But you’re safe and sound, you look just like you did in his memory.
“I love you, (y/n). I should have told you this way sooner and I did all of this just to return to you.”
Your heart sinks in your chest, body overflowing with feelings. Without thinking twice, you press your lips against his scarred ones, letting yourself sink into his lap while your hands hold onto his face for dear life. This man right in front of you, the man who never left your mind, the man who risked his life to save yours. He survived. He survived and came back to you just like you always dreamed of.
“I love you too”, you shriek, smiling at him so widely with tears overflowing in your eyes that you make his world whole again.
“But as you see, I’m not the man you met back then…”, he begins, looking down his disabled body.
You shake your head vehemently, gently taking his hands into yours.
“All I see is the man I love and waited for”, you reply.
You wipe away your tears and a trail of snot in the most unladylike and precious way Levi ever witnessed before standing up and straighten your skirt with trembling hands.
“So now, what do you think? How do you like my now old new dress?” you croak.
You twirl around, making his life complete. This. This is exactly what he fought for, why he never gave up even after Hange dedicated her life. You standing in front of him in that dark green dress, smiling widely after he told you that he loves you.
This is all he ever wanted.
“You look lovely. Absolutely lovely, (y/n)”, he replies.
And for the first time since forever, a genuine smile is formed on his face.
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Azul x Malleus brother male reader
Fae courting
A broach
A coin
And a paperclip.
These are the things that Azul had received from (name) Draconia within the past few days, the fae wandering to him at random points and placing them in his hand wandering off, leaving the octopus merman VERY confused as he held the shiny trinket.
what was this??? What's he trying to tell him?!
"Well I don't understand the political spectrum of box beetles but I'm sure we could work out something" (name) said softly, voice joyful and absent-minded. "Perhaps we could ask my brother to assist on this" (name) offered unaware of eyes on him.
Jade and Floyd watched in the distance, following their bosses order on figuring out (name)s motives but so far they saw him tend to mushrooms and talk to insects along with chatting with his brother about fae nonsense, nothing to raise suspicion.
"A... Iron frog?"
"Silver, iron doesn't like fae" (name) said airily as he played with Azuls hand "I was informed by the trees that a confectionery has bloomed in the east..." He said to the other who raised an eyebrow "ok?"
"I wish to be invited" (name) said looking at him with a smile and Azul just stared "so?"
"Perhaps someone could invite me and tell me tales of their whimsies" (name) looked hopeful but Azul wasn't getting it "I hope you find someone to do that with" and with that (name) was alone.
"He's my paramour yet he rejected my advances for an outing" (name) said to Lilia who smiled at his nephew figure who looked confused, not understanding why his beloved would not go to a cafe with him despite not asking but instead implying that he wanted to go there with him.
And now Lilia was dealing with a pouty prince "perhaps I should ask my beloved child of the sea to play his table games... Oh I should have considered his feelings on the subjects of our engagements" (name) looked upset with himself "perhaps take him to a cafe of sorts that has board games" Lilia supplied and (name) tilted his head confused "I will seek Council with someone to assist me on this" and with that (name) was gone.
'that sweet hopeless sparrow's Lilia thought as he watched him wander off.
"Oh? Hello (name)" Vil looked at the younger Draconia brother who handed him old coins "I wish to seek in conversation with you in regards to romantic rendezvous" (name) said seriously and Vil looked very confused "my beloved paramour Azul has rejected my proposition for a romantic outing and I wish to know what would fancy him instead" Vil wanted to laugh at this situation, the fae precious in his attempts to woo a man who Vil isn't even sure knows (name) has been pursuing.
"Well perhaps we can figure something out"
"By the seven he was asking me out" Azul said stopping in his tracks as he went over the earnings from the lounge "the coins... He was asking me out"
"Oh he thinks you're dating" Ace said casually as he sipped on his drink "what?" Azul looked floored at this "he refers to you as his Paramore, you accepted Fae courting gifts after all"
Azul needed to find (name).
Vil smiled as he dressed (name) up, the fae prince pleased with the flower crown and nice clothes that weren't too restrictive "now you go tell him that you wish to see his coin collection" Vil was supportive of the other as he urged him to go find Azul.
(Name) wandered the halls blissfully as he looked for his beloved ocean born lover "(name)!" Azul called out as he briskly walked to the other "hello fair ocean treasure, I was hoping we could eng--""are you telling people were dating?" He asked getting to the poing and (name) tilted his head "why would I not speak of our courtship"
Frustrated Azul sighed "because we aren't?"
"But you accepted my gifts?"
"That was a mistake"
Azul regretted his words at the simply heartbroken expression (name) held at the word mistake, it was a mistake? But... But he accepted his courting?
(Name) was a mistake to him?
"(Name), I di-"" very well, I hope you find yourself in good health... Goodbye"
And with that (name) was gone.
Malleus was protective of his younger brother, (name) was his kin after all.
So seeing him so visibility distraught as he clutched a flower crown in his hands "I wish not to seek romantic intentions anymore..."
"But what of your courtship with the ocean born?" Malleus comforted his brother who looked tearful "he claimed our courtship was a mistake!" He cried into his hands and Malleus felt rage bubble within him at his brothers betrayal.
"He is not worthy of your affections"
"That was cruel" Rook spoke up after seeing the interaction "he was so hopelessly in love with you too... Poor little thing" he sighed with false sadness "he had plans of asking you to do things you enjoyed too, he had Vil help him and everything..."
Azul felt like shit.
He missed the clear Fae courting traditions and (name) was hurt because of it, Azul couldn't deny be felt... Romantic interest towards the horned male but in the heat of it he spoke out of his ass.
Word got around fast about the "break up" and (name) seemed absolutely miserable, Vil comforting the poor fae as Silver showed him a very small toad to cheer him up.
Azul sighed as he held a hand held glass greenhouse with tiny mushrooms in it and (prefered treat) as he walked to the trio "if you wish to know, I have not spoken of anything" (name) looked down as Silver glared at the octopus and Vil sighed but saw the gifts "Silver, could you help me with something?" Vil dragged an angry Silver away as (name) fidgeted slightly, refusing to make eye contact with the other "I can assure you, I will no longer cause mistakes for you" (name) whispered and was ready to leave when Azul stopped him "please... Just listen" (name) continued sitting and looked suspicious and sad "I was.. an ass yesterday, I was thrown off and reacted horribly... Would you please accept this courting gift?" (Name) looked at the items hesitantly as he looked at the other.
"But I'm a mistake"
"No you're not, I was being a jerk and I didn't understand why you would want to date me"
"Because you are like the ray of dawn on a winter's morn" (name) said simply as he took the small terrarium and inspected it "a death cap?" He smiled and looked at the other "You are forgiven sea born, but if you tread in those waters again I will not be able to stop my brother" he said simply and Azul shivered as he remembered (name)s brother was literally one of the most powerful mages in existence.
"And by the way" Azul said softly as he walked with a still shy (name) "your gifts were very nice"
(Name)s smile at that moment could melt the sun, so brilliant and pure "those are fae coins, you collect coins so they would be good for your collection"
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"Your surprise is here..." | minchan
pairing: bang chan x f.reader x lee know
genre: smut || a little plot || +18 MDNI
summary: chan is very observant and he just knows you have a thing for minho... [enjoy! (;]
word count: 1.7k
warnings: threesome (ish?), voyeurism, exhibitionism, pet names, fingering, oral (f-receiving and m-receiving), slight mention of degradation, praise kink...
also english is not my first language
You are in love with Christopher Bang. It was always hard to picture yourself with someone and not be scared of them leaving you in the future. But with him, it was different. Chan is a man who values honesty and communication. Since day one, somehow he has extended to you warmth and trust making it impossible not to like him. Now, loving him, that was something else. What didn’t you love about your boyfriend? Is he flawed? Yes, of course, so are you. But it is in his flaws and in his caring nature that you get to be unapologetically you, no secrets, no burdens.
One of the things you have learned about Chan in the time you’ve been together is how observant he is. You have little tells when you’re excited, sad, joyful, horny, extremely horny, and he loves being able to tell so diligently. Even when sometimes you are not aware of how your body reacts.
Chan had his suspicions, but just by looking at you, he confirms it. You have a silly little crush on his friend and bandmate Minho. It’s not just the way you giggle a little bit too much when he makes a joke, it is the way your hand touches his arm for a brief second, the way you seem to arch your back a little bit for him to casually look at your breasts for a second or two, the way you smile at him with that flirty spark in your eyes. Yeah, you wanted Minho, and Chan was not jealous because at the end of the day, he wants what you want and to please you was his religion.
So one night Chan makes all the pieces fall into place, he is a man with a plan.
Spending the night with Chan is the definition of lovely. You can barely keep your hands off each other. Cuddling, playing pranks on each other, cooking together, having him inside you… you name it. However, you didn’t know what your man was orchestrating behind your back.
So now you find yourself kissing him, one of your favourite things to do. Chan has a way of kissing you that instantly melts you, it is never enough, you want his lips on yours forever. It starts slow, he wants to just see if you’re in the mood… so he waits and observes as you are both sitting on his couch. His sensual lips caress yours, asking for permission to kiss you. When you do, he pulls you closer, making you straddle his lap so he can put his hands on your waist. You part your lips for him and the faintest moan leaves you and the way Chan’s tongue teases your bottom lip makes your hips roll against his.
“Hmmm, are we impatient, my love?” he whispers.
“You know I am…” you reply breathlessly. “Now please kiss me, Chris, fuck me.”
Chan chuckles as you leave wet kisses down his jawline and neck.
The doorbell rings.
“Your surprise is here,” Chan looks into your eyes. They are wide with excitement, and dark with lust.
Your boyfriend carefully lets go of you. Your pajama shorts are wet from your arousal and your bralette leaves little to the imagination.
“There’s someone here for you, but if you don’t want to do this… we can stop,” Chan runs his hands over his blonde hair that slightly curls at the top.
“What do you mean?” your heart races as he opens the door and Minho’s eyes look right into yours, and then to your nipples hardening under your bralette.
“Minho?” you look at Chan. You try to find something to cover yourself with, he shouldn’t see you like this.
Minho walks in, his eyes glued to your figure and you can’t help but feel like a piece of meat for these two men. An unspoken fantasy come true.
“Baby, you have a little thing for Minho, am I right?”
You panic. It was always something stupid and innocent, you love Chan. You blink and your eyes go to Chan, then to Minho, and back to Chan.
“I–” you start but he shushs you.
Shit.
“I just want you to have fun, Minho here wonders if you are an obedient good girl. Would you like to show him, baby?”
Minho still says nothing and Chan smirks in a way you feel your clit throbbing in need of attention. Chan nods to Minho and they walk together closer to your figure. Chan kisses the back of your hand and draws little circles with his thumb over your fingers, reassuring you it’s okay and in that moment you know this is the man you are in love with. He is selfless, he is exciting, he is lustful, he loves to watch.
“Kiss her,” Chan tells Minho, but it is you who pulls Minho towards your lips. Your needy fingers entangling on his purple hair, drawing a deep groan for him.
“That’s it, good girl. You wanted him so bad, didn’t you, baby? Well… now it’s time to follow what I say, yeah?”
You try to nod as you bring Minho with you to the couch Chan sits opposite of you.
“Baby, strip for us, would ya?”
Only then do you stop kissing Minho, his eyes half-opened, lips swollen, ears red. You slowly unclasp your bralette and toss it on the floor. Minho’s mouth watering at the sight of beautiful tits, an arm’s distance from his wanting tongue, but when you pull down your pajama shorts… shit. Is he in heaven or in hell?
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?”
And for the first time since he came into the apartment you hear Minho’s voice.
“She’s exquisite, hyung,” Minho’s eyes never leaving your tits.
Your eyes are glued on Chan, how he palms his very noticeable erection in an attempt to relieve himself a little bit. He winks at you, he is really enjoying himself.
“Lick her tits, she will whimper if you blow on her nipples first and then suck them really hard.”
You don’t have time to process the words coming from your boyfriend’s mouth when Minho’s mouth and hands are already on you. Just as Chan said, Minho first licks your tits, his flat tongue working wonders. Chan’s eyes encourage you to let out your majestic moans, the ones that drive him insane.
“C’mon, my love, let Minho know how good he’s doing,” Chan says, but that’s when Minho blows on your right nipple and sucks hard, his crafty tongue switching between circling it and sucking while his fingers pinch and slightly pull your left one.
“Ah! Fuck–mmhh, shit–” you whimper under Minho’s touch.
You see Chan close his eyes in delight, finally freeing himself from his joggers. His perfect cock delighting your eyes, you want to suck him off, your adorable, perfect, boyfriend.
Minho didn’t stop there, he had you arching your back for him, almost crying for him to give you more. His mouth moves to your neck, licking and kissing you until his fingers tease your fold.
“Fuck, Minho, put your fingers in me already,” you beg.
“No, baby, he has to taste you first. Your taste alone will make him, cum, believe me.”
You moan at his words, so Minho puts his thumb in your mouth and you suck. You suck his thumb as the little needy slut you are because you want to suck Chan off so bad. Your brain can’t process the pleasure Minho is giving you and the sight of Chan jerking off to his friend going down on his girlfriend.
Minho first rubs your clit with his nose and cries are leaving your mouth as your eyes shut in pleasure.
“Make her cum. It’s the least you can do after she’s been so good to us, don’t you think?” The fact that Chan speaks as if you weren’t there makes your head spin and your pussy clenches, eager to cum for both of these men.
So Minho gets to work. His tongue circles your clit as one finger slides into you, the squelching sound of your dripping hole making both men moan in unison.
“Baby, how are you feeling, is Minho making you feel good?”
“Yes… yes–f…uck, yes, Chris,” you moan.
Chan smiles, he knows that when ‘Chris’ falls from your lips your brain is somewhere else. You are a goner. Head so plagued with pleasure your only aim is to climb higher and higher and get the mind-blowing release your body craves so much. This is Chan’s queue to finally stand beside you. He watches as Minho adds another finger in you, his motions quick, filled with lust as you pant and moan his name and Chris’s.
“I need you in my mouth,” you beg, looking at Chan. “Please, Chris, please, fuck! Minho!” you can’t seem to finish one thought when another wave of unmeasurable pleasure washes over you. Minho flicked his tongue over your bundle of nerves his hand now fisting his erect cock that was trapped in his tight jeans.
Chan obeys your command, he wants his baby happy and fucked out. So he thrusts inside your mouth as you moan for him. Hollowing your cheeks as you try your best to take him all in. Minho spits on your pussy and this is it, you are so close, his fingers moving so good in and out of you. Both men begin to talk you into cuming.
“Baby, you are doing so good for–u-us… such a dirty, dirty little thing,” Chan pants, close to cuming as well.
“Cum, please please cum, I want you all over my face,” Minho grunts and he is cuming on his hand.
Chan pulls out and his hand work on his cock angling it to your tits as his eyes roll back, while he cums and cums all over you and fucking hell, you cum with him. You feel like you are ascending to a never-ending feeling of euphoria as you cum with a loud cry, making your head explode and see stars behind your eyelids.
“Fuck…” is all you manage to say before your body lies limp on the couch.
“Shit, baby, you are amazing,” Chan kisses you.
You then reach for Minho’s adorable face which is buried between your legs and kiss him, tasting you in his mouth.
“Next time, tell me exactly what you want, baby.”
You nod.
“Thank you,” Minho whispers and you run your hand through his hair.
“Let’s clean her up,” and with that, the two men gather their strength to take you to the shower… but this was just round one of a steamy night that would not be easily forgotten.
___________________________________
a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ -- this idea wouldn't let me sleep so I just poured everything I got into this and it took a toll on my soul... totally worth it though.
let me know if you would like to be a part of my taglist :3
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My God's Bane (Astarion x F!Tav)
Tav no longer recognizes herself while Astarion finally comes to terms with his feelings towards her.
AKA I wrote my own leadup to Astarion's confession scene :3
CW: LOTS of angst, religious conflict/crisis, mentions of past physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (Astarion), mild depictions of gore
Word Count: 9,437
He liked to think that he had a talent for reading people at this point. Most wear their emotions clearer than they believe. Even when they hide behind a quiet, joyful, or indifferent mask, everyone slips, shows their hand so to speak, and that’s when he strikes.
However, when it came to the leader of their ragtag band of weirdos, she was easy. She slipped the moment they met, when he cornered her about killing one of those brain creatures outside the nautiloid crash. She all but ran to his supposed rescue, not thinking twice that the man before her could pose harm. It was as simple as breathing back then, to betray that small boundary of trust when he held his blade to her throat.
Her heart was on her sleeve, and she extended it to every wayward soul they encountered. With remarkable speed, she was able to secure new adventurers for their mission. She made vows to the tieflings and druids alike, intent on restoring order despite the limited time they had. Whether foe or ally, she sought the safety of all involved – such is the way of a valiant paladin. It was an inconvenience, honestly.
Ever since they arrived at the Shadowlands, though, Tav’s personality changed.
Their first day in the darkness brought them to battle between the Harpers and their arachnoid escort. The towering bastard had to go and cast Sanctuary constantly, leaving the rest to pick off the weaker cultists until they could find an opening past his defense.
Tav had swung the final blows, her blade illuminated in a holy light that was nearly blinding against the shadows. The drider fell, and joined his fellow Absolutists as bloody road markers.
She was an excitable kind of person, cheering and hollering with the smallest of victories, giddy with triumph whenever her enemies fell. Add Karlach into the mix, and Astarion was positive that sleep would evade the camp that night, the two warriors whooping into the night, drunk off wine and adrenaline.
But, as she had stood over the vanquished drider, Tav was silent. He could not make out the emotion that crossed her face; reverence – or perhaps mourning, as he watched Tav kneel to close each eye the spider possessed.
Astarion knew he was the only one to witness it. The others were engaged in conversation as the Harpers so graciously invited them to their little hideout, in the form of an abandoned inn. When Tav stood from the ground and turned, she froze upon seeing him standing there, eyes wide with panic as she fumbled for words to say.
All she managed was a desperate, “Please don’t tell the others.”
He didn’t understand why, at the time, he had allowed her to place such trust in him.
The same night, when everyone was gathered around the campfire, joking and sharing stories over whatever meal Gale managed to throw together, she stared into the flames until one of their companions pulled her mind back to the present.
“An actual drider,” marvels Wyll, “It would have been magnificent if it weren’t so grotesque. Wouldn’t you agree, Tav?”
“Hmm?” She hummed, eyes transfixed on the bowl in her hands.
“The drider,” Wyll tried again, almost in disbelief that she had not heard him the first time, “What did you make of it?”
Her spoon circled the bowl for the umpteenth time, the sound immensely grating to Astarion’s sensitive hearing.
“Him,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry?” Wyll asked.
“What did I make of him? He’s a person, not an ‘it’,” she corrected with a huff of offense. “That poor man...”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to pity the creature,” admonished Shadowheart, “It is only fitting that one be punished for failing their Goddess. Really, we were doing it a favor.”
There’s an unwon arrogance that Shadowheart tends to mince her words with. Usually, he would find her quips amusing, but he wished she would have read the obvious tension.
“He’s not a creature!” Tav slammed the bowl into the dirt in front of her. The metallic clang of the spoon against ceramic rang out into the stunned silence of those around the fire.
“He was hurting! Desperate to be seen after Lolth’s rejection... and all it got him was a tadpole from another cruel Goddess!” Tav’s hands clenched into fists, brow furrowed as her eyes focused once again on the flames, “He didn’t deserve to die. I could have-- I mean, we could have done more!”
“I do not understand,” said Lae’zel, “Why do you show such sympathies for the weak?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” chimes in Karlach, and though Astarion assumed she would start on another lecture about friendship and unity, Tav did not let her finish.
“I’m afraid I lost my appetite. Good night,” she said, her meal abandoned as she stomped off to her tent.
Karlach sighed, shaking her head at Lae’zel. The githyanki had not moved, still perplexed by the situation around her. An uneasy quietness quickly descended upon the group, broken only by Wyll bidding them goodnight. A chorus of muttered ‘goodnights’ followed as they began to disperse.
Considering it an outburst of exhaustion, Astarion left Tav to stew in her tent. He wished he hadn’t, for she was no better the next day.
It was normal for her to seek their thoughts while exploring. She’d ask Karlach or Lae’zel for tips after combat, banter with Gale and Wyll, show Shadowheart every damn “pretty” flower she found, and insisted on directing as many vampire jokes as she could at Astarion. It didn’t matter how dreadfully unfunny they were, she always laughed.
Adventuring was quiet now, as she ushered them from place to place, battle to battle, without a break. They found various victims of the curse, most a century old, but some new and with unfortunately familiar faces. It did not matter how long the bodies had been there, Tav grieved each one, tears streaming from her face as she read letters of their last words. While she bawled at their corpses, Astarion brooded, wondering when he had started to miss her laughter.
She was praying more often as well, sequestering herself alone in whatever corner she could find and frantically whispering. Once, when she ceased her incessant prayer, Tav appeared to be locked in some kind of trance. She did not react to sound or touch, the whole of her eyes overtaken by a ghostly, lavender hue. She stayed that way for two hours.
Everyone saw the tears that streamed from her eyes when her mind had returned from its journey, but she refused to answer their questions.
Karlach approached him one night, nearly a tenday after Tav’s original outburst, telling him he needed to figure out what was wrong. He had scoffed at the tiefling; after all, it’s not like he cared about whatever mental issues shared rent with her tadpole. Right?
“She likes you the most, fangs. If there’s anyone she’s willing to open up to, I'm bettin’ it’s you.”
He laughed then, loud and boisterous, to hide the rising tide of excitement and anxiety that Karlach’s words had caused.
“Trying to use me to pry into Tav’s life, are we?” He tsk-ed. Though he smiled, his anxiety had given way to anger. It poked and taunted his deepest fear; that he’s only useful when he can be used. It’s so painfully obvious that’s all he’d ever be, that even sweet Karlach knew it.
But something besides the tadpole lurked around in his mind; why does he feel bad about tricking Tav? That is his whole plan, is it not? Use the strong sword-wielding lady to safely travel back to Baldur’s Gate, she dices this stupid cult and Cazador into pieces, and then he dumps her, finally free from any master’s grip.
He banished the intruding thought instantly, bottled it as deep as it could go, for the looming answer to his question threatened to make him sick. He is undead, a creature of the night, an external parasite that feeds on Tav at night until he can find someone, something, better. His skin is cold as ice and his heart no longer beats. He has no heart to give; or so he tells himself.
“You know that’s not the case,” Karlach had chastised, seemingly offended he could suggest such a thing, “We’re all worried. You can pretend all you want, but I know you are too. You can help her, Astarion.”
Now that was a curious sentiment. ‘Help’ is numerous in its contexts; Cazador certainly considered himself helpful, merciful even, as he watched his new spawn vomit blood and dirt after clawing out of their tombs. The word implies a give and take, and the world is far more eager to collect than it is to provide.
To put it plainly, he had nothing to offer their melancholic leader; he is nothing and has been for a long time. Still, Karlach had come to him, apparently unaware of his obvious lack. Perhaps he should hear her out. Perhaps she saw something in him.
“And just how should I ‘help’?” Astarion asked, condescendingly drawling the question out, rolling his eyes for good measure.
He saw how the edge of Karlach’s lips twitched, how her eyes narrowed, the way her mechanical heart roared to life with a bright spark before settling back into quiet embers. In poetic irony, it seems that he burned her.
“Hells below, Astarion,” she nearly yelled, exasperated, tired, and practically begging him to cooperate. He doesn’t blame her for the outburst. Without the annoyingly bubbly attitude of Tav, the tension between party members had been amplified and pulled taut. They all may very well snap soon.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he dismissed her then, attention focused back on the tome he had in his hands. But his mind did not process the words on the page. He reread the same line damn near ten times before he gave up and went to bed instead.
His rest was anything but; it was fitful and full of sorrow.
It was times like then when he wished he could slumber like every other living creature. When his victims and fellow spawn would speak of nightmares, they told tales of distorted visions and intense fear. His waking hours were already plagued with such issues, he could easily handle the nightmares. But no, instead he was cursed to revel in his own pain during his meditative rest, reliving and experiencing his own terrifying truths on repeat.
That night, he tried searching for something he could do for Tav. Something that the others could not; something to prove his value to her. He did find it. It didn’t take him long at all.
All he had to offer his little troublesome Tav was his body.
And it broke him.
He spent that night with the realization that this is who he is and always will be. A body to be used and used and used and used and used and used and used and u s e d.......
Thankfully, Tav had asked him to stay at camp that morning. Even though he teased her with his usual, “Darling, I thought we had something special,” she could barely manage a smile, and muttered her thanks before flittering about camp in preparation.
It was probably for the best, knowing how useless he would have been with that morose epiphany swimming in his mind. Though awake, the uneasy feeling from the night did not dissipate. His emotions were all over the place, that much he was sure of, but they had always been identifiable. Agony, desperation, emptiness.
Now new and uncertain feelings – gods how he detested the word – seized his chest. Images of Tav pestered him the entire day; the bags under her eyes, the unkempt hair, the dying light of her spirit. Karlach was right, he was worried.
Still, he could not find the source of his worry. He’d spent the last 200 years surrounded by shambling corpses and their victims alike. They slept like dogs, were beaten like beasts, so really, who was he to judge for a bad hair day?
Astarion saw no use driving himself mad about it, after all, he had always warned her that her heroism couldn’t last forever. He spent that day doing what he does best when he finds himself without her company, distracting himself with enough shit wine and even shittier books. He didn’t think his tolerance would be shit too.
Words had soon blurred together, and despite the book’s distinct lack of arcane knowledge, the letters seemed to arrange themselves in puzzles. He slammed the tome shut, opting to sit in the privacy of his tent and will away his growing headache. While his thoughts were no less jumbled, the feelings from before were becoming clearer.
Worry; The presence of the undead made it impossible for him to feed on anyone other than Tav. Even though she always assured him that she did not mind, he felt like he was using her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt bad about being such a devious bastard.
Rejection; He’d never tell, but the absence of Tav returning his superficial flirtations left him feeling empty. He tries to tell himself that it isn’t him, it isn’t his fault, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to not have her affection.
Fear; He would give his body to her, if it would make her happy. Thousands before her had found pleasure in him, it would be easy for him to allow her the same. He wanted to believe that he’d be selfless, place her needs and comfort above his own; but he knew he could not. He is selfish. Could she want a selfish man?
It dawned on him then, what this cocktail of vulnerability and yearning was. The cause of his worry, the source of his comfort, the reason he felt like an idiot. He lov-
The party had arrived back at camp, and he had stumbled to his feet to meet them, for how would it look if their charming vampire companion was found sulking and brooding in his tent. Karlach immediately shed her armor, talking about how stuffy it felt to be metal-clad. Gale carried a sack with the night’s dinner ingredients in hand and grumbled about the pain in his knees as he knelt to light the fire. Lae’zel, despite her stoicism, appeared happy, covered head to toe in the blood of the fallen.
Tav looked no worse than she had for these last few days, and that ought to count for something. He watched as she removed the outer pieces of her armor, wincing when the harsh edges dug into new and old bruises alike. She picked up a rag and a small mirror, wiping away the blood from the cuts on her face.
The sight of the crimson spilling from her skin reminded him of his hunger. Their quid pro quo arrangement had been forgotten in her despair, and he was desperate at this point for anything she would give him. Blood, sex, shallow praise, whatever she had to offer.
Oh, right.
He had yet to offer himself again, so what reason would she have to keep up her end of the deal?
He downs the last of the wine in his goblet, swallowing the intoxicating substance just as the reality of his situation swallows his hope. With measured steps, he approached her tent, taking quiet yet deep breaths to ease the misery he felt knowing he’ll never be more than this. He opened his mouth to call her name, but Tav released the ties holding back the rainfly of her tent and shut them all out.
That should have been it, but his drunken mind reminded him of his promise to Karlach, and his predatorial hunger lurched at the idea of another night unsatiated.
Once the others were asleep, Astarion snuck into her tent, part and parcel to their routine since she first discovered his true nature. It was easier for him when she was asleep, not that the sharp pinch of his fangs left her totally undisturbed; but to approach while she was awake only guaranteed in his mind that he would end up on his back again.
Tav was facing away from him, lying on her side, a formerly white linen sheet covered her sleeping form. Nothing was amiss as he had stalked closer, brushing the strands of hair away from her neck, his mouth unbelievably dry. He knelt, the perfume of her blood wafting sweetly from beneath her skin, as he placed his hand on her shoulder to steady himself.
She awoke then, the force of her sitting so abruptly pushed him back and sent him stumbling. He had, thankfully, caught himself with his hand before falling into the dirt. Still, he was equal parts annoyed at dinner being interrupted and worried that he was caught.
“Hells, Astarion, you scared the shit out of me,” she whispered.
“And you almost broke my nose,” he chastised; not a total lie, but an exaggerated one, nonetheless.
Tav rolled her eyes at him before letting herself fall back against her bedroll again, “Oh, you poor thing, want me to kiss it better?”
At least she appeared to be feeling better, back to the self that loved teasing him.
“If you’re offering, who am I to say no to the hand that feeds?”
Upon realizing that he would not be allowed to dine and dash, Astarion straddled her thighs, ready to bargain for what he needed. He let his hand rest on her hip, soothing circles through the fabric of her nightwear.
“Yea, s’pose you can’t say you won’t bite,” she said through a drowsy laugh.
He allowed his hand to wander then, down the inside of her thigh, fingers trailing along the seam of her pants, “As if the lady would protest my bites.”
With a kiss pressed to her lips, Astarion silenced any innuendo or proposition she may have made. He did not want to hear it, could not stand the idea of her confirming all the horrid things he thought about himself.
This unspoken deal only served to remind him of how temporary freedom would be. At worst, he would return to Cazador, and the bastard would tell him how lucky he should feel, how there were other mortals dying to be in his position. He wished he could tell him that adding an ‘s’ before ‘pawn’ doesn’t make being a puppet any more lucrative.
She promised that she would not let that happen. She promised to free him from his master’s chains, but what comes after? He would still be bound to the night, doomed to prowl moonlit streets for an eternity. Killing would still be his status quo, whether mammal or mortal, in order to satiate his hunger.
Would she stay with such a monster?
Thoughts he did not want to entertain had barged to the forefront of his mind again, and he knew he needed to move this along. At least with sex, he could force those thoughts away, bottle them back up, and allow his body to numb. At least, this way, he survived another day. At least her body is warm.
At least—anything he can say to himself to justify another night on his back and to ignore the resentment building in his heart.
Her lips had parted in a moan, and his tongue quickly lay claim to her mouth, as his hand finally cupped her sex. She gasped, and as his mind had started to drift off into the numb void, he had been pulled back by the feeling of her hand pushing against his chest.
When he separated himself from her body, Astarion wanted to scream, wanted to shake her; why did she insist on taking the lead? It would be easy with him on top; he wouldn’t have to look at her, to feel her weight on top of him. Must she be so difficult?
“I don’t want to have sex tonight.”
What--
He looked down at her then, saw the flush in her face, felt how her hands fiddled with the ruffled collar of his shirt but harbored no intention to remove the clothing.
“I’m not really in the right headspace for that,” she explained, “Plus, I can taste the wine on your lips...”
“Right, well...” He didn’t know what to say.
Astarion was frozen above her, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Awkwardness had settled over them both, each one terrified of scaring the other off should they move or speak. Until, the dots connect in her head and she practically launched herself upright, almost smacking herself into him again.
“You haven’t fed since we got here, have you? Shit, I’m sorry!” She said as she pulled her hair to the side, exposing the column of her neck.
Any other time, he might have shoved her away, storming out of her tent as his hunger gave way to the embarrassment of it all, his crumbling ego unable to cope. But as she all but dragged his mouth to her skin, urging him to drink, Astarion was thankful that her care outweighed his own pride.
His fangs pierced her flesh, and she hissed at the pain, but did not complain further.
He recalled the conversation they had about what their friends would taste like, debating over who would be sweet and who would be savory. Once he had mused that she would be bland, only if to rile her up, but the depth of her lifeblood had truly surprised him.
She is a winter’s mulled wine, deceptively simple at first yet brimming with spice as she settles on his tongue. Hints of citrus tease his palate, the last taste of summer’s sweetness yielding to the zest of cinnamon and clove. It was gone as soon as it came, leaving its enjoyer to eagerly await the next mouthful.
As he drank from her, he had felt the echo of a memory in his chest, of his younger days scribbling away next to a hearth, of a man who made his heart flutter and his skin burn with want. The man’s face remains obscured, buried under years of torment, but the feeling is there; the rush of something new and exciting; the naivety of first love.
With wild hair and soft eyes that regarded him as if he held the entire world, the elf below him had unearthed a humanity he’d long since forgotten. What a wondrous feeling it was; to release all that had been brimming beneath the surface, to give names to the shadows, to feel again.
Again, her hand pushed against his chest, weaker than before as she mumbles, “O-Okay, I’m starting to get dizzy.”
His fangs retreated from her skin, and as his lips captured any wayward drops, he realized he did not wish to completely part in that moment. Gently, he laid her down against her bedroll, back on her side. He situated himself behind her, basking in the newfound heat that flowed through his veins, and allowed his breath to even out. Tav was already fast asleep when he turned, wrapping his arm around her and cuddled her to his chest.
...
Astarion had made sure to return to his own tent before dawn broke and if Tav had noticed the vampire snuggling her in the night, he was eternally grateful for her silence on it in the morning. He did not want to hear the insufferable taunts and jokes the others would make if the two of them were discovered together. Gale or Wyll, hells, probably even Karlach, would remind him that it’s only natural for two adults to seek out company between their giggles; as if he’s a little boy who's embarrassed about his crush.
But that is what he is, isn’t he? He’s tucking tail and scurrying away because he’s afraid of others seeing that he is capable of feeling. Brazen displays of emotion, especially ones of love, are signs of a weakness to be exploited. Everything he had ever loved had been taken from him, had been hurt because of him. He could love her, he wants to love her, but it would just be placing a target on her back. Another one of Cazador’s endless lessons.
She is safer this way.
For what it’s worth, Tav did appear livelier that morning, bantering with Shadowheart as the cleric healed their bloodless leader, and it earned him a thankful pat on the back from Karlach.
“Ah, I love the taste of Lesser Restoration in the morning,” Tav hummed happily, arms raised above her head as she stretched the sleep out of her body.
“I don’t know why you insist on coming to me,” said Shadowheart, “You’re the one who chose to be a walking blood bank, and I know Paladins can cast Lesser Restoration. Why don’t you heal yourself instead of making it my problem?”
“Because you’re always so charming,” Tav teased, “How do you expect me to resist?”
“Kicking and screaming, I hope,” deadpanned the cleric.
“See what I mean? Our own little ray of sunshine!”
After breakfast, Tav assembled that day’s crew. The idea of a day of physical labor after last night's mental exhaustion made Astarion less than eager to accept her invitation. Still, he had said yes, and donned his armor as he made a quiet vow to himself.
He will always keep her safe in one way or another.
The day’s mission had involved infiltrating the House of Healing to find something that could be used on this Art Cullagh fellow. Astarion had accepted, by this point, to not concern himself with the details and just assist Tav with whatever heroics she found herself agreeing to. They would happen with or without him.
The exterior yielded nothing of value, except one half of a pair of warding rings Tav found on the skeleton of another victim. She was somber as she pocketed the ring and read the lover’s note, but composed herself afterwards, and said a small prayer before pushing forward. He had felt some level of pride and admiration, watching as a new strength kindled inside her. There was inflation to his ego as well, a selfish joy in thinking that his mere cuddles could fix her woes.
He should have known better. Life had never been kind.
They had entered the House of Healing through an antechamber that reeked of decay and spoiled blood. Infirmary beds were strewn about, and of the few that weren’t outright destroyed or flipped over, they looked less than pleasing without a mattress to cover the rusted springs. Rotting towels, shattered wash basins, and an unknown film covered the floors. Voices echoed from the main chamber ahead, so each step further in was made cautiously.
They passed through a door to their right and discovered what used to be a woman as she floated before two of the beds, covered in nurses' attire that clearly didn’t know the definition of sterile. She - no, it - paid them no mind as they had approached, gazing down at the implements and bandages before it as if it couldn’t figure out what to do.
With her hand on the hilt of her sword, Tav spoke first, “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“Don’t call the doctor yet!” came the soft plea of the creature, “I’ve got potions, sutures - I know I can do this...” It turned to address their fellow nurse, yet startled when it saw the Paladin, “Oh! You’re a patient. This is the children’s ward – triage is back that way.”
“I have something else I’d like to ask you,” Tav started, but her words faded off as she looked beyond the nurse in front of her.
Two bodies laid still on the beds, clearly dead, though it was hard to tell if it was from the Shadow Curse or the nurse’s ‘treatment’.
In an instant, Tav drew her sword, resting the blade in a tail stance, voice low with anger as she asked, “What are you doing with the dead?”
The nurse regarded her with confusion as she replied, “Not dead, merely medicated. To ease the pain.”
Tav raised her sword, now bracing her weight in a plow stance, the tip of her blade dangerously close to the nurse’s abdomen, as she snarled, “I asked you a question, creature! What are you doing with the dead?”
Astarion had watched Tav face countless foes since their adventure together began. Even with the most wicked, she had never been so blatantly offensive. In hindsight, he realized that all those foes had been alive; fought them she must, but always done so reluctantly, and always ready to spare a life when able. There, in the House of Healing, did he first witness her true devotion as a Doomguide.
Of course, she had told the group of her deity; was overbearingly eager to share it, in fact. Kelemvor; Judge of the Damned; whose symbol featured a skeletal hand raising balanced scales. Tav wears it on her chest – darkened purple stitched into a solid black surcoat that she dons no matter the armor underneath. She told them the stories of her years as a lone wanderer, proselytizing Kelemvor’s wisdom, performing last rites for the dying, and destroying necromancers.
She was a protector of the living, and a slayer of the undead.
The creature did not answer her question, insisting that the patients were sleeping and to be quiet lest they wake. The last words the creature heard were Tav’s whispered, “In Kelemvor’s name,” before the blade was plunged clean through its body. It collapsed to the floor, trying to speak, but the blood pooling in its throat only allowed for senseless gurgling.
Tav placed her foot on the corpse and pushed it into the heap of flesh as she withdrew her blade. Thick, blackened blood congealed on the metal, and Tav held it in a white-knuckled grip as she stepped over the body and towards the beds.
She took one glance and immediately turned around, tripping on the creature's body as she rushed out of the vestibule, landing on her hands and knees, as her sword skidded across the floor. She did not rise, instead sinking to her elbows as her hands pulled at her hair to the point that Astarion thought she might rip it out.
Karlach rushed to her side, trying to ease the Paladin up as hushed sobs echoed off the walls.
“Hey now, soldier,” said the tiefling, taking hold of Tav’s biceps and urging her to sit up, “Don’t go getting soft on me.”
Shadowheart bypassed the two and peered into the beds before gasping, “It’s Arabella’s parents.”
Another choked cry broke out from Tav as she finally sat back on her haunches, rubbing away her tears with a grubby hand, “I fucking hate this place.”
“We all do,” assured Karlach, “But we gotta keep moving forward; don’t want to have worms forever, do we?”
“No,” came Tav’s hushed response before she stood to her feet. She picked up her sword from the floor, flicking some of the blood off, “Let’s just get this over with.”
Malleus Thorm was an abhorrent sight. Deciding to take the lead after Tav’s second outburst, Karlach interrogated the cursed doctor about his peculiar treatment plan. He spoke of Shar, of darkness, of absence. The victim strapped to the table was catatonic from the aimless carving of the nurses’ blades, though he was soon comatose after the doctor’s mechanical claws dug into his eyes.
Tav was antsy behind her, shifting on her feet, practically chomping at the bit to send the undead man back into oblivion. The battle was difficult, but well won. Tav’s anger and adrenaline combined with Divine Smite proved a lethal combo.
Shadowheart pulled a lute from the corpse of Malleus and held it out to Tav, “I think you might want this.”
Tav took the lute, strapped it to her back and made way for the exit. Despite the exhaustion they all felt and the rush of emotions Tav must have experienced, she stayed silent. No cries, no curses, not one tear to be found. Astarion felt that agonizing mix of worry and sorrow creep around him.
He increased his pace until he was able to fall in line with her, their other party members straggling not far behind.
“Are you alright, darling?” He asked quietly, still not quite ready for his care to be announced to the world.
She only nodded.
...
If he thought their adventures had been quiet before, they were dead silent now. Every fight with another Thorm family member pushed Tav further into despair. Any attempts by their companions to make her smile or laugh were futile. She walked and fought like a zombie, resulting in her near-death numerous times. Lectures about how she needed to mind herself went in one pointed ear and out the other, apparently.
Her silence was only broken by the fits of sobbing that occurred from her tent each night. If she managed to fall into her meditative state, it would end with her lurching forward, gasping for air as she scrambled off into the corner of camp to empty the contents of her stomach.
Karlach had to take over as temporary leader, and if she had her way, Tav would’ve stayed behind. Yet, when the Paladin appeared every morning with her armor and sword ready, the tiefling couldn’t find the strength to not let her tag along.
Astarion also insisted that he be allowed on each mission, even if his skills weren’t useful for their goal. For whatever reason, Tav listened to him more than the others, and would only accept his help when she found herself injured. He had to be there for her, even if watching her suffer wore away at his own sanity. He often found himself looking at the warding ring she had silently given him after their fight with Malleus, and wondered if he would ever hear her laugh again.
Bones, blood, and viscera decorated the entrance hall. The gore was mundane to him, no more unique than a cobblestone street or tavern lights in the dark. The dank and forebodingness of the crypt did not stop him from admiring its beauty. The ruins must have been a marvelous sight in their heyday, brimming with the Lady of Loss’s worshippers as they sought to drown out their sorrow and begged for her guidance amongst the crystalline decor.
Their group split to investigate the various rooms that surrounded the concourse, with him following behind Tav as she investigated the nook to the right. Through the towering archway, he saw that it was no more than a chamber, perhaps used as foyer for those who came to grieve the Thorm family. More bones were littered across its floor and piled in its corners. He saw nothing novel, yet Tav stopped stock still.
“Myrkul...”, she had hissed with disgust, hands clenched into fists that shook in splintering rage.
Peeking over her shoulder, he saw the triangle of femurs that had been constructed in front of the dilapidated desk, a skull perched neatly in the middle. He joined her at her side, casual when he had faced her and asked carelessly, “Who?”
Truthfully, the name and symbol were of no interest to him; a forgotten name from a bygone era, and most importantly, a deity that had ignored his prayers. She looked up to him then, and the dusty air must have been getting to him, because he swore her gaze softened when their eyes met.
“Myrkul Bey al-Kursi, a necromancer and prince who ascended to godhood when Jergal willingly parted with his title,” Gale interrupted just as Tav was about to speak.
Astarion rolled his eyes at the wizard and resisted the urge to pettily stomp his foot against the floor. His look was not enough to kill, but it did have Gale surrendering, hands up in a wordless apology as he had backed away from the two.
“Correct,” Tav said, breaking the tension she didn’t know had occurred, “He was usurped by Cyric, but the Prince of Lies was defeated by Kelemvor.”
Astarion was desperate to keep her talking. He’d listen to an entire history lecture if it meant she’d come back to sound mind. Back to him. “What use would a servant of Myrkul have with some Sharran shrine?”
“It doesn’t matter what ‘use’ they have for it,” admonished Shadowheart, “Lady Shar has decreed that Ketheric must die for his betrayal, and ridding her temple of other disgraces in the process is as much a bonus as it is an honor.”
Listening to the cleric’s devotion was uninteresting at best, and torturous at worst. He almost pitied the poor girl, blindly following a goddess out of fear of what her memories might hold.
Astarion had expected Tav to mirror Shadowheart’s enthusiasm, but instead saw her bristle, hands wringing together nervously. She was unrecognizable to him, the proud warrior now hunched in on herself as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Anxiety was radiating off her in waves; she looked like she might vomit.
His body had moved before he had realized what he was doing, hand reaching for her shoulder to comfort her. When his cool skin had made contact with her chainmail, she recoiled, eyes wide and breath unsteady. Hurt by her reaction, he let his hand fall limply to his side, and gruffly announced that the party should keep moving.
His patience wore thin as they descended into the abyss below the mausoleum. Gale and Shadowheart both wouldn’t shut up about the various magical auras they were picking up on. Sensing Shar’s presence in the Temple of Shar? Who could have guessed the dark goddess would have been there? Bloody amateurs.
Tav nearly fell in battle again against the Dark Justiciars that were forever cursed to protect the temple. She was unfocused and reckless, and the shadows had swarmed her after making quick work of the necromancer’s lackeys. To make matters worse, there was still no sign of the devil Raphael had tasked them with killing. There were hundreds of rats, though, and the sight of them left a bad taste in his mouth.
With some convincing from both he and Gale, Tav finally acquiesced and agreed to return to camp for the evening. Night had developed a new, uncomfortably familar cycle by then, with Tav disappearing to her tent before anyone could say anything to her. She would eat her dinner alone. He would pretend he didn’t hear her crying throughout the night.
They found Balthazar the next day, and it was the first time he ever saw pure hatred burning behind her eyes. They barely survived, the undead necromancer’s poison draining their strength while his ghouls beat them with decayed teeth and talons. When the bastard finally fell, Tav stood over his corpse, whispered a prayer, and then carved her blade through the fat of his neck. She stabbed her sword repeatedly into his chest, moving down his torso until he was no longer recognizable; just a pile of oozing sinew and flesh. His hulking, sewn-together abomination was the next target of her wrath, and it too was reduced to a pool of guts and blood.
It was not enough.
She destroyed the furniture, set the bookshelves ablaze, tore down everything the necromancer kept in his makeshift laboratory. The rest of the party removed themselves from the room, watching silently from the threshold as their near-death leader found the strength to take all of Balthazar’s worldly possessions with her.
It would have been sexy as hell if it weren’t so concerning.
She eventually collapsed, falling to her knees, sword clattering to the ground with a metallic clang echoing around the room. Silence followed; stares were exchanged between Astarion and his fellow compatriots, each one wordlessly asking the other what the hell had just happened.
Tired of walking on eggshells, of not doing something, Astarion walked over to Tav and kneeled in front of her. She didn’t notice him at first, eyes shut tight and chest heaving with labored breaths. He reached out again, placing his hand on her knee.
She was startled, but didn’t move away like before. Instead, her bloodied hand covered his own, fingers tracing over his knuckles, inadvertently smearing the crimson against his pale skin. When he suggested they retire to camp early, she finally, finally, met his gaze. Glimmering violet swirled in her irises, no doubt the remnants of whatever magic she called on Kelemvor for. It faded away, leaving him with the woman of his adoration, looking broken and lost.
Clinging to his armor, she staggered to her feet, yet nearly toppled again when she went to pick up her sword. It was instinct really, for him to grab her waist and to keep her upright. He certainly had held her hips in more lascivious situations, but somehow he felt more naked that time.
Vulnerable.
He doesn’t think he can keep this a secret any longer.
…
This last tenday has been punishing, and Astarion carries its weight with him as he searches the encampment for his wayward paramour.
He finds her on the staggered rock where they helped Halsin rescue Thaniel, staring out into the darkness. Her posture is relaxed as she leans back on her arms, legs dangling off the edge where the water beats on the stone below.
The silt crunches softly beneath his boots, and he knows she has heard him approach when her ear twitches. He settles himself beside her, brushing off any stray granules from his armor with a huff of disgust. She giggles.
It must look comical, how quickly his head snaps up at the sound, searching her face for signs of madness. After how despondent she’s been, he expects to find a vessel, a hollow being with the residue of what was a soul, begging to be let go.
Instead, he finds her kind smile, as she now swipes away the remaining dirt from his calf, “Not a fan of sand, I take it?”
For all his prose, there is no poetry, no song, no prayer that could mimic the joy he feels when she teases him. He’s been drowning, his mood anchored to hers, and now she has yanked him from the abyss once again. Is this the feeling all those bards crooned about? That every two-bit novelist dreamed of capturing?
He had long given up on such fantasies, convinced himself that the very notion of love made him sick.
Love.
There’s no use pretending anymore. It is love that he feels for Tav. It’s why he mopes at the end of the night if she dares to speak to him last; perhaps the tad murderous feeling he gets when he sees her acting too chummy with the wizard. It’s the comfort of knowing someone has his back, the safety of her sword shielding him from attack, the promises of freedom sleepily whispered between lips in the night. She is the first breath taken when he surfaces. The sun pales in comparison to the warmth in her touch, though she is just as apt to kiss his cheeks.
She is back and gods, how he missed her.
Gods, how he loves her.
“No, I don’t,” he responds in his bantering tone, “It’s rough... irritating... and it gets bloody everywhere.”
She hums in agreement, gaze falling to the ground before returning to the river. Silence befalls them again, and he finds himself clamoring for words. He wants to confess his love, sing her praises, ask her what the hell is wrong with her. Anything to fill the silence, he refuses to live in the saturnine hellscape that has been the last week any longer.
“Astarion,” she beats him to it, “I want to apologize for my behavior these last few days. I put everyone at risk and going forward I’ll be sure to keep everything in check. Can’t have everyone dying because of incompetency.”
A bit too diplomatic for his liking, and her laughter is much too forced. He’ll need to teach her some proper acting; it’s a miracle she’s survived as long as she has with that disaster of a performance. Aren’t paladins supposed to be charismatic, or is it the weapon that does most of the talking?
“Oh, you were in a bad mood? I hardly noticed,” he states with all the indifference he can muster.
She leans into him to playfully jab her elbow into his side, muttering expletives in an elven dialect he hasn’t heard in ages.
“Seriously, I’m sorry if I made you worry.”
“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he rushes out, hand idly scratching the back of his neck.
The tension returns, though not as overbearing as before, as questions remain unasked and feelings unshared. It’s a bitter push, as neither is used to talking about their depths, and he doesn’t want to pry; yet a sweet pull, as he remains at her side, wishing for the awkwardness to dissipate.
“It’s just...” She begins, and though she faces forward, he catches her sneaking looks at him in her peripheral, “There’s so much going on, I don’t know where to start.”
If he had any blood in his body, he’s sure it’d be racing, his heart thumping wildly in tandem. He thinks she’s ready to talk, and that is half the issue. He thinks, but he doesn’t know; it terrifies and thrills him all the same. He wants to know her – aches for it, if he’s being honest.
But he is terrified, so sure that he’s going to fuck up and ruin the one good thing he’s had in two hundred years. If she rejects him now, shuts him out for good, he’s not sure he can take it.
This was supposed to be easy; she was supposed to be easy.
“It doesn’t matter where you start, I’ll be here for the end.” Shit, shit, SHIT.
“Astarion,” she gasps, hand over her heart, his name melting into a laugh, “That was actually smooth.”
He tsks, “I take offense to that. I’ve always been smooth, you’re just too brutish to notice.”
She laughs again, shaking her head as an enamored smile graces her lips. Her hand brushes stray locks of hair behind her pointed ear and even in the dim glow of the inn’s spell, he can see a blush staining her cheeks.
But then, she sighs, slow and tired as her fingers soothe circles into her temples, “Can you keep a secret for me?”
It’s what he’s been pining for, offered on a silver platter, and how could he not say yes.
He raises his hand to his chest, drawing an ‘x’ over his armor, “Cross my heart and hope to—uh, well, you know.”
Another chuckle escapes her lips as she adjusts her position, angling herself towards him.
She swallows thickly before continuing, “Well, I uh—I talked to Kelemvor.”
“Is that not par for the course for you Doomguides?” He asks incredulously, eyebrow raised and head tilting as he chuckles.
This time, she does not grant him a smile or a laugh, focused on picking at her cuticles and the dirt under her nails.
“I haven’t spoken to him since the nautiloid, I figured the tadpole was interfering,” she says hushed, shame and guilt on the edges of her voice. “I was preparing myself for the worst, but what I got was an impossibility.”
What kind of cryptic bullsh-- She’s been hanging around Withers too much.
Hundreds of possibilities race through his mind. What he knows of Kelemvor is only from what she has shared; while he did not seem to be a vengeful god, they already have one person burdened with a suicide mission. He could live without the blabbersome wizard, but her?
He should have known the universe would only offer him misery, to dangle a sweet treat before him and rip it all away before he had the chance to savor it.
“Did he ask you to sacrifice yourself?” He wants to hear it from her, needs to hear her say those dreaded words so he can make peace before she is nothing more than bones and fading memories.
Her eyes find his, inflamed with tears she no longer has the strength to shed, “I wish he did.”
The pain, the anger, the grief of the last few days resurfaces in her voice, that flare of purple sparking in her irises. Astarion does not often find himself shocked, but the callous and tempestuous storm raging beneath her skin leaves him speechless. Instincts tell him he is witnessing only a fraction of her fury.
Then it ebbs, retreating like the tide, as she takes a deep breath to steady herself.
“I’ve been having doubts, about my purpose, about this path I chose. I expected Kelemvor to berate me for lacking faith.”
Her hands go back to tearing at her cuticles.
“He by no means praised me, but he wasn’t furious, either. He didn’t seem like himself... He didn’t even look like himself. It was as if his passion was gone. I asked him what I should do, and he told me that only I can determine my future.”
“So? What’s wrong with that?” He was genuinely confused by her demeanor. Self-determination, autonomy, freedom; all the things she promised to help him find and keep, yet she fears them for herself.
“Kelemvor has been a part of my life since I was a teenager, I’ve devoted myself to him for the better part of two centuries. I don’t-- I don’t know who I am without him.”
A kindred spirit.
She clenches her jaw, letting out a frustrated huff, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay a Doomguide to a god who abandoned his own principles!”
He knows she is bleeding from her nail beds, the lovely scent of spiced wine in the air.
“I took an oath of devotion, to be honorable, compassionate, and honest. I do not fear death of myself nor my loved ones, for death is not something to be afraid of. It is not something one must seek, but it is what one should embrace should it find you,” She explains, “For the last two hundred and fifty-six years, Kelemvor would remind me of these tenets, and commend me for every valiant foe I slaughtered in their image.”
As sweet as the fragrance is, he takes her hands in his; they have seen and caused enough damage for the time being.
“And Kelemvor just... doesn’t care anymore. Every time we saw some poor undead creature cursed by Shar, I was reminded of how he dismissed me, like I was a fool for ever following him in the first place. I was his valiant hero, one his most beloved Paladins, and now what? I’m nothing.”
“You are not nothing,” he replies in an instant, “You are everything. You don't need Kelemvor to be honorable or compassionate, because you already are those things. He was lucky to have someone as devoted as you, but if he wants to toss you aside, then good riddance; it’s his loss, and everyone else’s gain.”
Crimson floods her cheeks again, as she stares at him dumbfounded. He fidgets in the momentary silence, the feeling of actually sharing one's feeling still mildly uncomfortable. But then it dissipates, because she smiles at him and brings their clasped hands to rest over her heart. Its beat is comforting.
“Thanks, Astarion. I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few weeks.”
“Someone had to keep you alive. I know I said you would make a pretty corpse, but that doesn’t mean I’m eager to see it, darling.”
“I’m sure Shadowheart would let you have a nibble if I passed,” she says with a laugh.
“Perhaps, but I don’t think she could compare.”
The steady rhythm of her heart increases under his hands. She adjusts herself again, scooting closer to him so that she can lean her head against his shoulder. Her eyes close as she relaxes into him, and he feels so relieved at knowing her touch could be so intimate yet still so gentle.
“There’s just one thing I don’t understand, Tav,” He says, his thumb softly tracing along her knuckles, “Why were you having doubts in the first place?”
“Oh! Um...” She says, head lifting from his shoulder, “It’s so embarrassing, don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t you dare hold out on me now,” He pleads as he slings his arm across her back, hand resting on her hip and pulling her in close so he can whisper, “Especially when it comes to gossip!”
Sagging against his side, she groans out, “You are the wooooorst.”
He raises his hand to his face, making a dramatic show of clearing his throat before uttering a very sickly sweet, “Please?”
“Okay, fine,” she huffs before grumbling out something unintelligible.
“What was that dear? No one likes a mumbler.”
“Because of you! Because... I like you,” She says, carding her hand through her hair; her walls tumbling and every emotion she’s shouldered alone spilling forth in a maddened haze.
“I’ve seen hundreds of undead, most of whom I gladly sent back to their graves. They were merely the husks of the people they once were. Any soul left in them was but a dying echo as they pleaded for their suffering to end. I thought I was helping,” she says, voice shaking, “But what if I ended the life of someone who just wanted-- no needed-- a second chance? Was I an arbiter of divine justice, or just some glorified executioner? I started to question everything when we met.”
His mind is a whirlwind, thoughts simultaneously speeding yet slow. The half of him that yearns to be known, to be loved, is battling against his ever-present fear that he is not worthy of such. It’s a terrifying concoction, one that has him questioning just how accurate Tav’s description of the undead is. He has no idea who Astarion is; he knows who the elven magistrate once was, but who is Astarion the spawn, besides Cazador’s infernal expectations?
“By no means am I saying that you haven’t suffered, but you are not some hollow corpse, Astarion. Despite everything that’s happened, and everything that has yet to come, you have grown in unprecedented ways. You’ve broken a mold, defied all odds. You’re simply breathtaking...”
He is, isn’t he? No one has given him enough credit; no one has truly recognized the pure shit he has survived through. No one has offered him the chance or the choice to be better. He’s tired of the untrusting sideways glances, the disgusting feeling of some stranger’s eye roaming his figure. He’s always been expected to fall in line, and today he makes the promise to finally live for himself.
“When this is all over, I want to stay by your side, if you’ll have me.”
She looks at him with reverence, like he can pluck the stars from the night sky. He has seen this look before, when she would talk about Kelemvor, and he swears his undead heart nearly beats under her adoring gaze. He has no army to command, cannot turn into mist nor bat; he is practically powerless, and yet she wants him anyway. She believes in him, even though he can’t trust himself. Where he sees nothing, she has found something worth abandoning her god for.
“I don’t think I’ve heard you this quiet before... are you alright?”
He cannot find the words necessary to explain his delight. Even if he did, he doubts he’d still even be able to form them, arrange them into proper sentences. The truth has rendered him speechless.
It doesn’t erase the fact that she sounds hurt, scared even, at the prospect that his silence means rejection. He recognizes the feeling all too well, and if she can overcome its pain to tell him the truth, then dammit, he can do the same. Perhaps he will forever roam darkened streets, but that doesn’t mean all of him must remain in the shadows. He must be honest, expose his own secrets to the proverbial light, and allow her the same choice.
“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just... feel awful.”
He hopes she chooses him all the same.
“Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan-”
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The Fall from the Heavens (22)
[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: oral sex, sexual tension, smut, angst, swearing ]
[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard
Lady Strong Moodboard
Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
He cursed himself in his head for giving in to her, for letting her fly on Larax, soaring towards the skies on Vhagar, looking out for her from afar with a clenched throat. Despite the fact that she hadn't run away with Daemon, he couldn't get over his fear that she would flee, that she would abandon him again.
That she would rip his heart out.
A sigh of relief left his lips as he caught sight of the shining, shimmering blue and silver slender figure of her dragoness in the distance, finding with satisfaction that they were heading in the right direction. He turned over his shoulder, terrified as he flew over them and heard a squeal below, Larax terrified by Vhagar's sudden presence panicked.
He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh when he heard his niece's commands, and after a moment her dragon calmed down and joined him, flying a little lower at his side.
He could not contain an involuntary smile of satisfaction as he felt the heat that filled his heart at the thought that here was his dream come true, and he was at last roaming the skies with his wife.
Although Aegon sometimes allowed him to accompany him on his visits to the Dragon's Pit, when he could get a close look at Sunfyre, it brought him neither joy nor comfort. He knew it was their mother who had forced him to take his little brother with him, thinking it would help him, meanwhile it only deepened his grief and sadness.
It wasn't his dragon, but his brother's, so what was he to be happy about?
His attitude, however, was quite different about his niece's dragoness when their betrothal was announced.
She was to become his wife, and as a wedded pair they were to share everything with each other, so he felt that he could also partly acknowledge Larax as his own.
When he saw her for the first time he thought that only Sunfyre matched her beauty.
Larax had blue-silver scales shimmering in the light of day, her nature gentle and docile, at the sight of his betrothed she acted and squealed in excitement like a small, happy child.
At first she hissed at him when he tried to approach her, however, when his niece took his hand in hers and placed it on her back, Larax allowed him to stroke her and from then on she accepted his presence with calmness.
Her scales were rough and sharp, yet smooth and pleasant to the touch, sparkling with various shades of blue like a gems, making him gasp in delight.
Looking at her now, he could not get out of his mind how she had grown, how wide and slender her wings were, with what lightness she swirled in the air.
Compared to her, his beloved old Vhagar was like a great flying stone fortress.
When they arrived, his wife landed by the fortress itself, but he had to find a lair for Vhagar in which she would pose no threat to anyone; he finally spotted a small grassy hill from below and ordered her to lower her flight, finally landing with a sigh of relief.
For some reason he was both joyful and terrified of what awaited them, hundreds of thoughts running through his head.
What if Rheanyra wants to kidnap her? What if she orders her to stay in the Eyrie? What if they reject their terms?
What if he has to kill them?
Despite the beautiful sunny weather and the wonderful journey at his wife's side, these gloomy thoughts consumed his mind completely. When he finally reached the gates of Harrenhal and spotted the figure of Larys Strong in the distance, he only prayed that he would be allowed to rest at least for a moment.
He glanced at his wife, who smiled at him uncertainly, tense, something about the person of Larys Strong or the woman standing next to him had obviously made her uncomfortable.
He decided it did not matter, tired and sore from sitting in one position, and directed his words to the heir of Harrenhal.
"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters."
Larys Strong did indeed direct them straight to his rooms, much more modest and cramped than those in King's Landing. He pulled off his leather gloves, frustrated that the Lord kept speaking and speaking and speaking, glancing up at him only when he mentioned that he had prepared other quarters for his wife.
No, he thought.
Her place was with him.
They were staying in a nest of vipers and he had no intention of letting any of them bite her.
"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." He said impatiently; Lord Strong raised his eyebrows as if genuinely surprised by his words.
"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you." He said lightly, and he pressed his lips together, casting a tired, enraged look at his wife, who stared at him with her big, warm eyes full of understanding.
They were both exhausted, but nothing could be done.
He sighed and nodded, ordering her to leave them alone, leading her and the woman who had followed her away with anxious gaze.
Was this the famous Witch of Harrenhal?
What if she does indeed cast a spell on her?
What if she pours poison into her honey or wine?
Larys Strong snapped him out of his reverie by sitting down at a table standing just beside the window, leaning his staff against the back of his chair, sighing softly.
"Your grandfather has conveyed to me what matter has brought you here, my Prince, and has asked me to personally take care of everything if the matter gets out of hand." He said meekly, as if he had just been telling him about the weather or what meals would be served to them at supper.
He felt an unpleasant shiver run along his spine, a cold sweat on the back of his neck as he threw him a quick, shocked look, his heart pounding like mad.
Lord Strong seemed amused by his reaction, a smile appeared on his face from which he felt an unpleasant squeeze in his guts.
"I have my little birds in the Eyrie who chirp to me about everything that happens there. Daemon and Rhaenyra arrived there this morning − they will also spend the night there after your negotiations. If their answer is not to our satisfaction, the matter will be resolved in a slightly different way."
He swallowed loudly, trying to calm his breathing, feeling like if he moved even a little he would vomit immediately, disbelief, shock and horror vibrating through his entire body.
They wanted to take advantage of the fact that they felt safe in their kin's fortress.
They wanted to kill them.
They wanted him to betray his wife.
He answered nothing, unable to even find the words for what he was feeling as he stared blankly out the window, noticing the silhouette of Larax shining in the sunlight, his hands clenched into fists.
"It is for the good of the kingdom, my Prince. War is no one's desire." He said lightly, rising on his staff, walking with difficulty out of his chamber, leaving him alone with the cold, terrifying chill he felt in his chest.
He pressed his lips together, trying not to cry like a child.
What if Rheanyra did not accept their terms?
What option would be left for them?
He felt devastated at the thought that none.
There would be nothing that could be done.
They had to do anything to make them agree.
They had to lie.
His mind was filled with dark, gloomy thoughts as his wife stepped into the chamber where he and Larys were already seated, waiting for her to begin supper. He squinted as he saw that her hair was entwined around her head in braids, for some reason he felt frustrated thinking that this was surely the witch's idea.
What were they discussing?
What had she said to her?
"Beautiful hairstyle, my Lady." Said Lord Strong; he pressed his lips together, impatient, thinking he was a fucking snake plotting how to kill her mother while throwing her sweet, empty compliments.
He wondered, horrified, if, as far as she was concerned, he and his grandfather had their own plans too.
His wife expressed her gratitude to him with a happy smile and turned her eyes on him, her gaze bright and warm, completely unaware of what was happening around her.
"And you, my husband? What do you think?" She asked lightly, and he licked his lips, furious, horrified, devastated.
"I prefer it when your hair is loose." He replied drily, feeling however instantly remorseful at the look of sadness, pain of rejection that flashed across her face. She blinked and lowered her head, swallowing quietly as she grabbed for her cup, his heart beating harder at the thought that the wine might have been poisoned.
Nothing happened to her, however, and she did not look at him again for the rest of the supper, smiling despite her distress, exchanging courteous remarks with Lord Strong. When she rose, saying that she was exhausted and wished already to prepare for sleep, his heart pounded harder.
"As soon as you have finished, come to my chamber." He commanded. She nodded and left, leaving them alone.
There was an awkward silence between them.
"Your wife is indeed a sweet and innocent creature, my Prince." Lord Strong said, and he cast him a stern, furious look, sensing the subtext in that sentence, some kind of malicious threat from which he felt unpleasant chills running through his veins.
"If anything happens to her, I will rip out your tongue, I will gouge out your eyes, I will cut off your hands; I will cut off parts of your body piece by piece until only your torso and your head remain. Do you understand?" He asked in a low, calm, cold voice − Larys Strong looked at him piercingly, a smile on his lips from which he felt that terrible squeeze in his stomach again.
"Yes, my Prince."
When he returned to his chamber he was just a bundle of nerves, pacing around as if in a trance, terrified, confused, horrified, thinking only of the fact that he needed her, that he had to look at her face, speak to her in private, come up with some plan, anything from which he would be able to sleep a wink that night.
Should he tell her or not?
What if she decides that his family has betrayed her, that she can't trust them?
What if she panicked, if she changed her mind at the last minute, changed sides?
FUCK!
He waited and waited and waited, and she did not appear. He growled loudly, burying his face in his hands, desperate and impatient − the tension in his lower abdomen caused by the lack of their closeness for the last few days was unbearable for him.
He didn't want to make her suffer discomfort when she was already in such pain, thinking that if he waited and let her rest, he would thereby prove that he didn't just care about their physical intimacy, that he respected her and was willing to wait.
He broke from his seat, deciding that enough was enough, and walked out, heading aggressively with a quick step towards her chamber, opening the door with a loud slam. He froze in place, looking in disbelief at the scene before him.
The Witch of Harrenhal held his niece's hand close to her face, kneeling by her tub, his wife submerged in the water with only her nightgown clinging to her bare body, which was clearly visible through the thin material.
For one brief moment it seemed to him that the woman removed her free hand from under her skirt at the sight of him.
What the fuck was she doing?
Both of them looked at him in shock − the witch stood up and bowed to him, bending her head humbly.
"My Prince."
"− get out −" He growled enraged, feeling his whole body quiver in fury, his hands clenched into fists.
The woman left the chamber without a word, and he rushed towards his niece like a lion about to pounce on its prey − her large eyes widened in shock, her lips parted in a hastened breath, her cheeks all flushed in a way she looked when he took her in his bed.
The thought enraged him even more.
"− what is the meaning of this? − hm? −" He hissed, looking at her expectantly, but she merely raised her shoulders in a defensive gesture, her hand clenched on the edge of her tub.
Gods, give me patience, he thought in fury.
"− can't I leave you alone even for a fucking moment? −" He asked with rage as if he had just reprimanded a small, disobedient child. She blinked, clearly trying to get something out of herself after all.
"− I-I asked her for help −"
What?
"− help with what, that she had to kneel beside you and hold your hand? − you are fucking bare −" He burst out, not believing a word she said, her cheeks turning scarlet at his words, the innocent hot look in her eyes killing him.
"− I − I can't tell you, it's embarrassing −"
"− gods, I swear I'm about to rip you to shreds −"
"− we were discussing embarrassing feminine matters − she showed me something…important − for you too −" She finally mumbled out, and he furrowed his brow, understanding absolutely nothing of her explanation, increasingly frustrated that she wasn't telling him the truth.
"− I want to know what this brazen whore was doing to my wife −" He growled in a cold, enraged voice, and she swallowed hard, knowing he was about to explode.
"− very well − I − I will try to show it to you − just − just don't get upset and sit on the bed −"
He was distrustful at first, but did as she asked.
And then his concerns, his fear and terror vanished, replaced by a complete dullness of his mind due to the surprising delight that the touch of her soft, warm lips on his fat, throbbing erection gave him.
When she added her fleshy, moist tongue to her caresses, licking the pink, swollen head of his cock with its tip he thought it was over for him.
He fucked her throat like there was no tomorrow, panting loudly with clenched eyelids, holding her hair in the firm grip of his hands, thrusting his hard cock deep between her sweet lips with the deep stabs of his hips, moaning helplessly as her tongue teased him with the sticky click of her saliva.
She squirmed loudly as he quickened his pace, again and again hitting the back of her throat, tears of exertion running down her cheeks as she tried to breathe loudly through her nose to keep from suffocating.
"− I know − please, please, let me − oh, fuck, yes, swallow it, swallow, swallow, swallow −" He mumbled out panting heavily, tilting his head back as his seed spilled down her throat at last. He heard her cough quietly, shocked, and swallow loudly, some of his spend trickled from the corner of her mouth down her chin.
It was the most indecent sight he had seen in his entire life.
Indecent and wonderfully beautiful at the same time.
"− come − come here − your husband need to take care of you −" He breathed out, grabbing her around the waist, lifting her lightly, sitting her on his lap. His niece sat down on top of him, cupping his cheeks in her hands, joining their lips in a hot, sticky kiss, her tongue slightly salty from his seed.
His cock pulsed hard at that thought.
He turned and threw her onto her back on the soft bedsheet, pulling her wet nightgown off of her, his swollen lips running over her sternum down her stomach leaving a wet, warm, sticky trail behind. Her body quivered all over as he took her thighs in his hands and spread them in front of him, her hands trying to stop him from doing what he wanted to do when his face leaned over her heat.
"− n-no − I'm still dirty −" She mumbled helplessly, embarrassed; he gasped at her words, looking at her swollen folds, from between which her moisture leaked, running the tip of his tongue over her sensitive, fleshy womanhood. She tilted her head back with a moan of delight and desire, her body arching like a string, her hips involuntarily pushing forward to meet his lips.
He couldn't deny himself this, he was too desperate, too terrified, he needed her too badly to stop, to stop himself from sinking his mouth into her weeping cunt, begging him for fulfilment, the tip of his nose running over her bud while his tongue teased her opening with lazy, slow licks.
"− who made you so wet? − her? − hm? −" He hummed, feeling her quickly shake her head, her hands tightening in his hair, pressing him closer, wanting more, her breathing quick and raspy.
"− n-no − I was thinking about you − about you deep inside my mouth −" She muttered, a low, throaty groan escaping his lips that flowed in vibration through her body at her words, his cock swelling all over in his breeches at the memory of what her sweet mouth had done to him as he peaked deep into her throat.
"− did you enjoy it? − the taste of your husband deep in your belly? −" He cooed, sliding his tongue deeper and deeper into her tight, puffy slit; she cried out loudly at his question, her moist walls clenching greedily around nothing.
"− y-yes − oh, gods, please − put it inside me −" She begged, repeating it again and again, his fingers digging deep into the soft skin of her thighs.
How could he deny her?
He lifted himself up on his arm, panting hard, directing his once again swollen erection at her entrance – she was so wet that he thrust into her with one deep push of his hips. They both threw their heads back, delighted at their closeness, at how shockingly pleasurable and intimate the experience was.
"− I've waited so long for this − fuck, this warm cunt is my doom −" He exhaled, despite her cries and the shudders that shook her body imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, pounding into her with the brutal, deep thrusts of his hips, her insides slick with her moisture, making their bare skin slap against each other with a sticky smack again and again.
"− u-uncle − ah − mghmm −" She mumbled, clenching her hands on the material of his tunic, responding devotedly to each of his stabs with the rocking of her hips, her eyes closed, her puffy lips parted sweetly in pleasure.
He leaned over her and kissed her greedily with her sigh of delight, his tongue full of her flavour bursting deep into her throat as he pressed her to the bed, thrusting into her so deeply and quickly that he was hardly slipping out of her.
They both moaned loudly and tightened their fingers on each other's bodies as she threw back her head in wonderful fulfilment, through which her fleshy walls began to squeeze and suck him inside. He cursed under his breath and sighed in relief as the heat in his lower abdomen became unbearable and his seed filled her again, this time taking root in her womb.
They both rocked their hips for a while longer, whimpering and panting into each other's mouths, their lips brushing and teasing each other, their hands stroking each other's faces and hair as they tried to calm down and come down from their peak. He fell on top of her at last without strength, closing his eyes, nuzzling his nose into her hot cheek; he murmured contentedly as her tiny fingers combed through his hair.
"− good gods − I needed this so much −" He muttered, allowing himself to feel like a small, helpless child again in her arms, with his eyes closed, focusing only on the tender, warm touch of her hand.
"− me too, my beloved −" She whispered, and he felt the heat in his heart, the love for her that filled his members like a living fire.
And then he felt a cold sweat on his back, his heart thumping hard at the memory of Larys Strong's words.
It is for the good of the kingdom, my Prince.
War is no one's desire.
He opened his eyes, looking at her soft face, at her closed eyelids, at her lips parted in a calm breath. She murmured with a gentle smile as his fingers ran over her cheek − he felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that perhaps he should tell her.
But what if it was necessary?
What if Rheanyra and Daemon didn't agree, what if they threatened his grandfather, his mother and his siblings?
He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, not making a sound when a single, solitary tear of pain and grief ran down the side of his face onto the pillow beneath their heads.
A peaceful, deep sleep did not come to him that night.
Instead he fell into restless slumbers, during which he dreamt that for some reason his niece had stayed with her mother in the Eyrie, that a servant boy had walked into her chamber in the night and cut her throat.
That she had tried to scream his name, her husband's name, terrified and distraught, but only a grunt had escaped her lips.
He awoke with an aggressive tug, feeling his heart pounding like mad, looking down quickly at her body snuggled into his chest, entwined with his legs. His arms closed her in a tighter embrace with her silent sigh, his face sinking into her soft, fragrant hair, inhaling her addictive scent.
The next day, just before they set off to the Eyrie, he left her bed reluctantly, telling her, while she was still sunk in half-sleep, that he would only go and change into his riding attire, that she would not eat or drink anything but wait for him outside the fortress gates.
He was afraid that someone would try to poison her.
He stepped into his chamber feeling that he was shaking all over, repeating in his head the elaborate plan he had devised.
He would lie that she was expecting his child.
That they were in fact supported by the gods themselves, that his father was right when he said that the kingdom could not be divided.
That if he becomes king-regent until his child is born, his queen-wife, her mother and Daemon will be given a seat in the Small Council.
That their family will have a say in all things concerning the kingdom.
In the meantime, they might actually be able to beget an heir, he thought, trying to calm himself down, and then all their worries would resolve themselves.
He tried not to think about what would happen if a daughter was born to them, or if they did not beget a heir at all, if his grandfather began plotting again fearing that it would be Daemon and Rheanyra's children who would sit on the Iron Throne.
They had to agree.
He shuddered, turning away impatiently when he heard the door to his chamber open, wanting to ask the servant how much longer he had to wait but froze, spotting the silhouette of the woman who had driven him to such fury only the day before.
"− get out, woman −" He growled, grabbing the tunic lying on his bed, deciding that he would rather dress himself than let this woman touch him.
She was manipulating his wife's mind, perceiving her innocence, her desires, and trying to inspire her confidence, to approach her in a way that was indecent and unacceptable.
"You will betray her."
He felt his heart stop for a moment when he heard her words and he froze, swallowing hard. He looked at her over his shoulder with his eye wide open, feeling his nostrils quiver with each of his terrified breaths.
Her eyes, the colour of an intense, bright green, seemed to pierce him to the core, something in her gaze that made him both uncomfortable and embarrassed at the same time.
"You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most. You will break her. You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again. You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your despair and longing. You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death."
Tears of horror, shame and disbelief gathered at the corners of his eyes as he saw her smile full of mockery and superiority, a shudder of disgust shook his body as she bowed before him and simply walked away, leaving him alone with her words ringing in his ears like a bell.
He felt that awful, overwhelming constriction in his stomach again, from which his head spun, barely managing to grab the bowl that lay on the table before his insides twisted in convulsions.
He vomited.
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