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#I should also mention that I find it really hard to read books but I AM SO PROUD BECSUSE I FOUND A NEW BOOK TO ENJOY
findher-ogg · 4 months
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Assassin's Apprentice is a good book so far I see why you all like loser gay boy Fitz so much now
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love🥺🫶🏻I click at my notification so fast when I saw your posting again adfkgk you have no idea how much I like your writing! also I'm new to your blog but if anyone trying to hurt you I'm......going to give them a really bad time... 😤💪//hj
Anyway 🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻can I request a reaction of wrio and neuvillette with a darling who has a habit of looking at the price on menus...like why worry your silly little head? when you're with them those silly little numbers mean nothing. it's one of your habit that's hard to let go but he find them really cute so it's okay!
Awwww thank you so much, dear!!!! You'll be happy to know that I've got nothing but love on here which I'm so so grateful for ♡ but I appreciate you so much for your protection ♡
And what a lovely idea!! This is so something I struggle with so it was interesting to write about and imagine what our favorite boys would say!! I hope you like it ♡
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✧˖° you're worth all the mora in the world⋆.˚✧
Wriothesley & Neuvillette x gn!reader (separate) II fluff!
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"You're not allowed to order water."
"Wriothesley..."
He slides the drink menu over to you with a stern, "Pick one."
"...but I don't need—"
"It's not about needing. I took you out to spoil and indulge you, don't deny me that pleasure."
You've been dating Wriothesley long enough for him to find your cautiousness when it comes to his funds an issue.
On the first few dates you two shared, though he'd rather have pampered you with lavish meals and treats, he decided to look the other way when it came to how you'd always miraculously choose the most inexpensive dishes on the menu.
"I guess that's only polite...", he reasoned with himself, weighing whether or not he should mention to you that money was not a problem for him; but eventually, he thought it better to just give you time.
"Once we get more comfortable, it'll change."
And once you two did get comfortable, and he found that your behavior, in fact, did not change, his patience wore thin.
Why were you still so uncomfortable with him? It was almost an insult that you thought so little of him to assume he'd find paying for you a burden.
So, he takes to ordering for you. He knows what you like, and he knows if he lets you choose for yourself, the price will play a factor into what you order—even subconsciously.
Until you start choosing the most expensive meals on the menu, you're not allowed to make objections or requests without grounds like allergies or dislikes; which you won't have, because he knows you too well by now.
If you try to lie and tell him you don't like something he's picked for you, you will fail. Miserably, so.
"I don't like crab.", you argue—peeking over your menu at him in an attempt to hide your tells that he's become much too familiar with. He could read you like a book, and you have no idea how he's gained so much expertise in the field of you.
"Uh huh, sure, doll.", he doesn't even look at you, his attention on the waiter as he orders. "That one—", he says, flicking his finger to point at you, "is going to have golden crab.".
"And the crab will be market-priced. Will that be all right with you, sir?", the waiter feels the need to confirm, as market-priced foods are often quite expensive.
You jump in, "How mu—"
"That's fine.", Wriothesley interjects, giving you a stern look as he plucks the menu from your hands, revealing your red cheeks (a symptom of your fibbing), and passes it to the waiter before handing him his own. He doesn't need to hear the price, it's just a number, and you're worth more than all the mora in his bank account. No matter how ardently you can try to protest, he's committed to giving you what he knows you want—even if you hesitate to ask for it.
And watching from across the table how your eyes glimmer and beautiful cheeks turn rosy pink as the opulent flavors hit your tongue is more than enough compensation for him to recieve in return.
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Neuvillette finds your financial prudence to be a quality of yours he actually quite admires. Too often, he sees thoughtless individuals land themselves in his court with grave, unsettled debts due to gambling or overspending, so your conscientiousness is to be commended!
However, when he is the one footing the bill, he sees no logical need for you to apply this virtue. He knows what he can afford, so you need not worry about it; and to see that telltale crease between your eyebrows as you worry yourself over what to choose on a menu with nothing priced less than ˙✧12500 mora, simply crushes him.
He can never sit right with himself when you have that anxious look on your face, it makes him feel like he’s failing as your partner. And over something so small as a handful of mora! He finds it necessary to talk you through the logic of the situation rather than your—for lack of better word—illogical fixation on a metaphysical number.
“Sweetheart,”, he calls in that soothing, deep vibration of his voice that feels like resting in the coolest, calmest waters of Fontaine, “I am the Chief Justice of Fontaine; as such, I’ve been entrusted to oversee both criminal and civil trials due to my ability to apply sound judgement to otherwise complex situations, unrivaled by anyone else in the nation.”
“…”, you sit quietly with your hands in your lap and blink at him, tongue-tied as his explanation begins to make perfect sense.
“…don’t you think I would have the discernment to manage my own finances?”, he concludes, hammering his claim into you with one last strike.
You have no rebuttal. He’s pinned you so effortlessly, it’s embarrassing. Sometimes, it’s a challenge to date a man with such vast practice in rhetorical argument.
Your worries being soothed with such tact actually makes you quite flustered, your cheeks and nose turning a soft shade of red as you pout in defeat.
The way your expression graduated from nervous to sheepish with just a few sentences of reasoning makes him chuckle, reaching out to lift your chin with the knuckle of his index finger with a cheery, but reserved smile on his face.
“Darling, I’ve brought you out tonight to spoil you. Do me the honor of having some fun while we’re here? There’s nothing more I want right now than to see your beautiful smile.”
You find it’s impossible to hold back the simper that blooms on your face from that remark, to which he smirks with pride.
This was the most fulfilling trial he’s held in a century.
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eeldritchblast · 8 months
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They’re Not “Playersexual”, You’re Just Biphobic
(I was going to save this until September 23 because I thought that would be an appropriate date, but the Ask I got included in this essay just put me over the edge. So, here it is now. Buckle up.)
Bisexuality/Pansexuality is the attraction to people regardless of gender. About 4% of the USA alone (over 13.6 million people) openly identify as bisexual, according to Gallup’s latest polling. But unfortunately, bi/pan identities are so scary to some folks that they need to make up terms to avoid calling their favourite characters such. Thus, the term “playersexual” was born: a term to describe a game character who is attracted to the player character... regardless of gender.
If that sounds like it’s just a circuitous way of describing a bi/pan character, it’s because it is.
I first heard of the term “playersexual” almost a decade ago, from a Dragon Age fan complaining that Dorian was gay and thus it was “unfair” that she couldn’t romance him as female character. This fan said they wished BioWare would go back to Dragon Age II’s model of everyone being “playersexual” for “equality”.
Now, if you’ve actually played DA:2 and you’re not a bigot, you’re probably rolling your eyes just as hard as I did when I first read such a ridiculous statement. Well, prepare for this next one:
“When you make a male Hawke, Anders and Fenris are gay and Merrill is straight. Opposite is true if you make a female Hawke.”
These people are so afraid of bisexuality that they cannot even fathom its existence. They can believe in dragons and magic, but they cannot believe that a character is simply bi/pan. I find this especially hilarious for Anders, considering he had a canonical boyfriend, as confirmed both in-game and in The World of Thedas: Vol. 2 book.
I truly thought we were past this nonsense in 2023. I really, truly thought that. But then Baldur’s Gate 3 was released in full, and suddenly these same fuckers came out of the woodwork to bend over backwards avoiding calling these characters anything except bi/pan.
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Note how in the above Ask, the anonymous questioner actually doubles down on avoiding addressing these two characters in particular as bi/pan!
“Playersexual” doesn’t even truly work for the characters of Baldur’s Gate 3 regardless, because the definition is oriented around attraction to the player character… which these characters are not exclusively attracted to. Here are some examples that prove otherwise:
If neither Lae’zel nor Astarion/Gale/Wyll are in a romance with the PC, Lae’zel will say she plans on propositioning one of the men for sex at the night of the tiefling party. She also flirts with Karlach in party banter.
Shadowheart expresses interest in Karlach, (“I like her. She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety, should the need arise”) as well as Halsin if he leaves the party, (“he may have been misguided, but I liked looking at him.”)
Astarion flirts with nearly everyone in the party, but to just pick two examples: he mentions Wyll is the type of princely figure he used to dream about marrying, and says to Shadowheart “such a grim name for such a beautiful flower”.
Gale used to date Mystra. He also debatably flirts with Astarion by offering him some blood, after Cazador’s battle.
Wyll flirts with Lae’zel in party banter, and also refers to Halsin as a “delight” and “hunk”.
Karlach seems to have a little crush on Jaheira by the way she reacts to meeting her. She also says of Halsin, “everyone in this camp wants to climb that oak”.
Please keep in mind these are just a few examples I’ve picked out from screening through the dialogue, and there’s even more that prove the attraction to different genders these characters have is not related solely to the player. It’s just part of their identities.
In the Ask sent to me above, the anonymous questioner said they “cannot see Karlach as anything except lesbian and Astarion as gay.” This is just as bad as saying they are “playersexual” in my opinion, because yet again it’s erasing their bisexuality/pansexuality. Worse yet, it’s doing it because of the way the characters act. You cannot measure queerness based on actions and appearances being in line or not with queer stereotypes—it’s not a scale! And bi/pan folks are just as queer as lesbian and gay men, by virtue of simply being bi/pan!
All in all, I think this entire “playersexual” debate boils down to the fact that some people still refuse to see bi/pan identities as anything but “discount straight”. And that’s why people are rightfully angry when folks try to further this myth by pretending bi/pan characters don’t actually exist.
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kiss-me-cill-me · 3 months
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The Ninth Crewmember
Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader
Word Count: 4.9k
Summary: You are the ninth crewmember aboard Icarus II, and as the journey wears on you begin to find it harder and harder to ignore your feelings for Capa. Maybe it would be easier if he'd quit dragging you into bed with him...
Warnings: Smut, mentions of reader taking birth control pills as well as other medications, mild angst/pining, nightmares, literal sleeping together, the fun kind of sleeping together, Capa is a bit of a dick but also a sadboi, teasing, begging, use of "good girl" (whoops), bad puns
A/N: Can you tell that I struggle with titles haha? Anyway, finally getting around to cross-posting this from AO3 in my continued attempts to fuel @cillmequick's Capa thots 😉
***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***
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Your fingers hovered over the panel, looking for the button you were supposed to press. They were all clearly labeled, but there were so many of them that you were having a hard time locating the one you needed. Your index finger moved hesitantly closer to a square near the bottom right of the panel.
“Not that one.”
Capa’s voice behind you made you jump. He sounded… not exactly annoyed, but tired by having to explain again what you were supposed to be doing. Your cheeks heated up as he leaned in close, chin hovering just above your shoulder as he looked at the panel.
“That one.”
He pointed at a button in the lower left, which, embarrassingly, was flashing bright orange and labeled “TEST” in all capital letters. You felt the need to apologize, but held your tongue. Capa went back to doing whatever it was he had been concentrating on before, at the other end of the room. The space he left in his wake felt oddly noticeable.
“Okay,” he said, taking his time to flip a couple of switches above his head. “Ready in three… two… one…”
You pressed the button as he finished counting down, and instantly the room in front of the control chamber was filled with spots of twinkling light. They seemed to dance over every surface for just a moment. The display lasted for less than three seconds, but it was breathtaking even in impermanence. 
You looked over at Capa, your eyes still shining with the beauty of it, only to see him calmly taking notes. His expression was carefully neutral, lips pressed together as he scribbled with short, purposeful strokes. 
“Capa?” you asked.
“Hm?”
He didn’t look up as he continued to record his observations, and you didn’t wait for him to before continuing.
“Do you think the real thing will look like that?”
Capa stopped writing for a moment, and seemed to consider your question seriously before answering.
“No,” he said finally, putting his stylus down and fixing you with a gaze that made you breath stop. “Even after watching a thousand of these simulations, I don’t think that any one of them could ever capture the true beauty. What it will really look like.”
You were standing a few feet away from him, fixed in place by his intense gaze. Something about Capa had fascinated you, from the moment you’d stepped aboard Icarus II. His bluntness, maybe, or the way his eyes seemed to scan over everything in front of him, as if he were reading it all - people, data, situations - like they were a book. And you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make your heart swell whenever he did it to you.
“You and I will be some of the only people to ever live who will see something so magnificent,” Capa said quietly. “We should count ourselves lucky.”
You nodded in agreement, too entranced and too afraid of flubbing your words to reply.
“Thank you for your help,” Capa continued. He went back to note taking, as if he hadn’t just been waxing poetic about life and the universe. “You can go.”
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Capa’s words rang in your head as you made your way to the medbay. It had been hours since you’d left his lab, but the weight still seemed to resonate. A beauty unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. You reflected on the thought as you reported to Searle, to help with a few things before going to bed.
One of Searle’s duties was handing out supplements, and he often asked for your help with making the deliveries. Icarus II was a very large ship, and your fellow crewmembers were usually spread out in the various quarters and chambers. It was faster to do the job with two people.
Before heading off, you worked on separating various pills into small plastic cups, one for each person. There were quite a few pills that everyone had to take every day. Space travel was hard on the body, and it was difficult if not impossible to get all of the necessary nutrients from the food you had aboard. Even with the gardens and the ability to have fresh vegetables, you all still had to take a lot of supplements. 
You finished doling out the vitamins, and then opened the final bottle of pills. You, Cassie, and Corazon also received one other daily medication: an oral contraceptive. You dropped three little pills into three little cups.
As you replaced the bottle’s lid, your mind drifted again to Capa. The weight of him hovering just behind you, so close that you could feel his breath against your cheek. You wondered if he had any idea that he made your heart flutter just by being next to you. If he did, he certainly didn’t show it. Capa was incredibly hard to read, but for some reason that only made you want him all the more. Your thoughts wandered, imagining things that you knew would never happen. His hand reaching out to you; the feel of his fingers against your waist; his beautiful blue eyes rolling back as he-
You slammed the bottle of pills down on the counter, banishing the fantasies before you could get too wrapped up in them. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. The birth control pills were mandated for female crewmembers, but they were precaution rather than permission. Nine people cooped up together, for years. It was better to prevent any potential problems from happening. It was only logical to mitigate the risk. But that didn’t mean that relationships were encouraged.
And besides, you told yourself, it's not like Capa would be interested anyway.
You picked up the little plastic vial with your pills, and tipped them all into your mouth, swallowing quickly. 
They burned your throat on the way down.
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Capa’s eyes looked almost white in the vivid yellow light of the sun. He looked at the dying star, and you looked at him, breathless again at the way he seemed to silently consider everything in front of him. The edges of his thumbs ghosted over his lips as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, as if to get just a bit closer to that magnificent light.
You were sitting in the observatory, Capa’s empty vial of pills placed precariously on the edge of the bench between you. It had taken you quite a while to find him. He often stayed up late working in his lab, and it was almost rare to see him outside of it. He had been your last delivery, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit with him awhile before heading to your quarters.
You’d been wrong, of course; it hurt more than anything to sit next to him and not have the courage, or the recklessness, to reach out and touch him. As he looked on with amazement at the pulsating sun, you tore your eyes away from him to peer out as well. Dark webs of red and black stretched over the star’s surface. It was strange to think about - how up close it all looked so different from how it had back on Earth. It took up the entire viewing window; so large that it almost felt like it could swallow you at any moment, despite still being millions of miles away.
As he leaned forward, Capa’s dog tags dangled in front of his chest. You wanted nothing more than to grab them. Wrap your fingers around the thin cord holding them, and pull him to you until you both tumbled off the edge of something and into the blazing unknown. 
Your tongue darted out to lick your lips. Chapped from the heat of the sun.
“It’s getting late,” you whispered, hoping that he would break the spell so that you wouldn’t have to. “You should get to bed, Capa.”
“Hard to when the sun’s always right there, isn’t it?” he asked, cryptically. 
“I guess it is,” you agreed. “But you should still get some rest.”
Capa nodded, and rose from the bench, crushing his empty cup in his hand. He looked back at you, seemed as if he was about to say something, and then left the room without uttering a word. You let out a rough breath, shaking even as you were bathed in the glowing light.
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A noise woke you up from your fitful sleep. You’d had a lot of trouble closing your eyes in the first place - probably because of the way your heart was still hammering in your chest, and the way your mind was racing from the events of the day. Still, it was odd to hear any sort of noise at night. Usually the hallways of the ship were deserted, as the crew all slept in their separate chambers. You listened closely, trying to identify the noise through the haze of sleep still clouding your senses.
You heard it again: a muffled banging followed by what sounded like someone struggling. 
Curious, you got out of bed and padded softly across the floor of your small room. The door slid open soundlessly, and as you stepped out into the hall you heard the noise a third time. Now you could clearly tell that it was coming from across the hall. Capa’s room.
You hesitated for a moment, closed fist raised and ready to knock. He probably wouldn’t want you to bother him, but what if something was wrong and you ignored it? You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. You knocked.
Another muffled sound came from inside, unintelligible. 
“Capa?” you whispered, lips pressed as close to the door as you could manage. You didn’t want to wake anyone else up.
There was no answer.
Well, you were already here. You might as well go in and make sure he was okay, just in case. Pressing the small button to open the door, you slipped quietly into his room. The door slid closed behind you.
Capa’s room was entirely dark, unlike the faint, recessed glow of the hallway. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they finally did you could see Capa asleep in his bed, thrashing against some unseen threat. He was having a nightmare.
Immediately, you felt embarrassed. You shouldn’t have barged in; this was his personal space. He was vulnerable, and clearly going through something unpleasant. Knowing Capa, you felt certain that he wouldn’t want any of the others seeing him like this, including you. His brows creased and lips pressed feverishly together in his sleep. You turned to leave, feeling foolish.
“Who’s there?”
The sound of Capa’s voice behind you made you freeze. Just like earlier, in the lab, a shiver inched down your spine at the thought of facing him. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.
“It’s me,” you responded, turning around.
He was sitting up in bed, blankets pooled around his waist. Shirtless. You felt your face heating up, and were relieved that he couldn’t see your eyes widen in the dark.
“Oh,” said Capa softly. “What are you doing here?”
“I, um… I heard something and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Against your better judgment, you took a few steps toward him as you spoke. There was a chair next to his bed, and you sat in it, leaning forward on your elbows as you tried to read his expression. The lines of his face betrayed nothing, as usual.
“Is… everything okay?” you asked hesitantly.
Capa swallowed before answering, his eyes flitting up to land on your face. Even in the dark, somehow they seemed to shine. You wanted to look away. You knew you should. But looking into his eyes felt the same as the rushing weightlessness of looking into the sun.
“I’m fine,” he assured you. “Sometimes I have nightmares.”
You nodded, a little surprised he had opened up to you..
“Me too,” you admitted.
Capa seemed to understand what you meant, without you having to say it. He didn’t look away from you as he spoke.
“It is frightening,” he told you. “To be face to face with all of it. The beauty. The scale, unlike anything you’d ever seen back on Earth.” Your mind flashed back to Capa in the observation deck, eyes wide open and leaning forward toward the molten sun. You had thought he was fascinated, but maybe it was something more like the magnetic pull of fear that made him inch closer. 
“But I meant what I said earlier,” he continued. “We are lucky to be here.”
Silence hung between you for a moment. 
“I’m sorry for letting myself in,” you said finally. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Don’t be,” Capa said. “It’s nice to be checked up on.”
You smiled softly, even as your heart hammered in your chest. You put your hands on your knees and stood up from the chair, then leaned down to look at Capa one last time. He was still sitting up in bed, propped on one elbow, facing slightly toward you. A breath caught in your throat as you reached out and placed a hand on his bare shoulder.
“Get some rest, Capa,” you told him, giving a gentle squeeze.
As you moved your hand away, suddenly it was stopped by strong, stable fingers. You looked down to see Capa grabbing your wrist, looking up at you with those damn sensuous eyes. This time, your heart stopped.
“Stay with me?” Capa asked, the barest hint of a prayer in his voice.
“I…”
“Please?”
Time seemed to stand still as you looked at him. A trace of fear in the very corner of his eyes. A few pieces of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, pressing just a bit too tight.
“Okay,” you agreed. The word seemed to carry all of the air in your lungs along with it, out into the vacant night.
You sat on the edge of his bed, awkwardly facing him, and Capa moved backward to make more space for you. Hesitant, you weren’t sure if he wanted you to lie down next to him. It wasn’t exactly a roomy bed, not being intended for more than one person to occupy at a time. You flittered with indecision as Capa settled back into his pillows.
“C’mere.”
Suddenly, an arm was around your waist. And then you were being hooked into Capa’s body, your back pressing snugly against his chest. Capa sighed behind you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. His arm was still draped around your waist, and his lips just barely brushed against you.
“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.
You let out a shaky breath, and prayed that Capa couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.
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The next morning, you woke up alone. You tried to ignore your disappointment. Capa was an early riser; the type to get a head start on the day by spending all hours in his lab, including the ones before anyone else on the ship was awake. You had always seen him as a hard worker, but after seeing him so unusually agitated last night, you now wondered if there weren’t other reasons he barely seemed to sleep.
You looked around the small room for a few moments, reflecting on what had happened. Part of you still couldn’t believe it. Was it possible that Capa had feelings for you, or were you just a warm body to sleep next to? Did it even matter? If it meant you got to press yourself up against him, you honestly didn’t care whether there was anything more to it.
But then anxiety clouded your mind. What if Capa had left because he was embarrassed? Too shy to confront you about the mistake he’d made in asking you to stay with him? He was, generally, very straightforward - but you also got the sense that he liked to avoid conflict if possible. And he was so damn hard to read. You sat up and put your feet on the floor, crossing your legs and squeezing them together. He was driving you crazy, and the worst part was, you were way too much of a coward to tell him about it.
You stood, made a sound of frustration, and carefully left the room - looking both ways before you stepped out into the hallway. It was still early, but you certainly didn’t need anyone seeing you step out of Capa’s room first thing in the morning. Rumors traveled faster in the cramped halls of a spaceship than lightning on a summer’s night. You slipped back into your own room, and got ready for the day. Maybe, later, you would confront Capa.
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You spent the day avoiding Capa. Which wasn’t too hard; he really did spend most of his time in his lab. You focused on helping Corazon in the oxygen garden, trying to distract yourself with the calming, white-noise sound of water. It didn’t do much good for your nerves, unfortunately. 
As the hours wore on, you became more and more agitated, and ultimately, convinced that Capa regretted your night together. It was disappointing, sure, but this was really just a testament to why you shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. Even if you did literally only sleep with them.
That night, you begged off of helping Searle with the medications; telling him you had a headache and wanted to get to bed. Really, you just couldn't face the thought of handing Capa his little plastic cup of pills, watching as he observed you with his characteristic disinterest. Searle added a few ibuprofen to your medications and watched as you swallowed them down, before telling you he’d handle it and to get some rest.
Eyes on the floor, you headed to your room.
This was not good. You still had years left on the ship, pressed together with everyone in tight quarters. And Capa was right across the hall from you. There was no possible way to avoid him, and yet, how were you supposed to face him after the embarrassment of being ignored and rejected? Your thoughts were still swirling as you reached the door to your quarters, and pressed the button to go inside.
“Sleeping alone tonight?”
The familiar voice behind you caught you off guard. You hadn’t seen him there.
“I didn’t realize there was another option.”
You turned around to face him, slowly. Capa was standing in the open doorway to his room, hands in his pockets and arms unfairly attractive in his light gray tank top. There was just a hint of mischief in his eyes as they slowly swept over you, and it made you feel both anger and arousal.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” Capa said, again seeming to sense what you were feeling without you even telling him. “Trey needed my help with something, and I figured you wouldn’t want me to wake you. Ooor want to walk out together in front of him.”
You felt yourself starting to soften, but still gave your best attempt at a pout as you crossed your arms.
“You could have told me earlier.”
“I know. And I am sorry.” Capa took a step back into his room. “Let me make it up to you?”
It was the wrong decision to follow him. You knew this, but you did it anyway. If only to finish the conversation in the relative privacy of Capa’s room instead of out in the hallway where anyone could hear you. At least, that’s what you told yourself.
“Please don’t be mad?” 
Capa’s room was dark, again, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust. When you could see him clearly, he was looking down at you, careful expression and head cocked to the side as he awaited your answer.
“Okay,” you agreed.
You were rewarded with a small smile from Capa, and instantly your heart melted. You really couldn’t stay mad at him, even if you wanted to. He was just too damned attractive.
“Let’s go to bed then,” Capa said happily.
He tore off his shirt as he walked to the bed, and for a second you weren’t sure how you were going to stay upright. Capa stood by the bed and waited for you.
“Ladies first.”
“I, um…” you began. “Maybe I should get my pajamas out of my room.”
“Mmm, you don’t really need them.”
Capa took a step toward you and reached over, pulling you close to him. At the same time, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. And before you could protest, he was pulling the fabric up and over your head, leaving you only in shorts and a sports bra.
“That’s better,” he smirked.
Capa’s warm fingers landed on your waist, and you felt yourself swoon again. If it weren’t for his piercing blue eyes holding you in place, you were certain you would have fallen over.
Gently, Capa guided you to bed and let you climb in first, before crawling after you. You were spooning again, this time with you lying closest to the wall. With Capa’s body pressed against you, the result was a warm but not uncomfortable closeness. It felt like you were boxed into your own little world, even as the vastness of space threatened to spill in all around you.
Capa’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in even tighter. You settled back against him, all of your earlier tension melting away. This was nice, whatever it was. You had made up your mind to just enjoy it. It had been a long time since you’d been so close to someone. Capa’s long hair tickled your neck and shoulders, and you exhaled as he-
“Capa!”
His mouth was suddenly on your shoulder, kissing rough enough to leave a bruise. You felt heat rush to your face once again.
“Shhhh,” he teased, lips brushing against you. “Don’t want anyone else to hear us, right?”
“What are you doing?” you whispered frantically.
“Making it up to you,” Capa replied, devilishly. “Like I said I would.”
He put his lips on your neck this time, kissing and scraping your soft skin with his teeth. Despite yourself, you let out a small whimper. Capa’s arms tightened around you.
“Do you forgive me?” Capa asked. You could feel him smiling into your neck.
“I-I don’t know.” A sudden surge of boldness swept through you. “You might need to convince me some more.”
“Hmmm,” Capa growled, directly into your ear. “Wonder how I can do that…"
One of his hands trailed lazily up and down your thigh. His touch was feather-light; moving so slowly that it had your head spinning. Without warning, he grabbed the back of your leg, pads of his fingers pressing into your bare flesh.
“Oh-”
The word left your lips involuntarily, and you felt Capa smirk against you again.
“Think I might have a few ideas…” he said.
“Capa, I-” Before you could get out more than two words, his hand had snaked around to the front of your shorts and was pushing past your waistband. Separated only by the cloth of your panties, his fingers pressed against the wetness that was quickly spreading between your thighs.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispered. “I knew you were into me, but I didn’t know you had it this bad.”
You arched your back against his bare chest, too drunk on his fingers to formulate a response. And he hadn’t even pushed past your panties yet; he was just touching you through the fabric as you fell apart for him.
“Good girl,” he rasped, sending another wave of euphoria from your neck to your throbbing cunt. “So eager. Want me to put ‘em inside you?”
You nodded, desperate but not trusting your voice enough to speak. Capa slid his hand past the final layer of fabric that separated you, and then one of his fingers was pressing into you. You squeezed your legs together, trapping his hand, and Capa quickly added another finger.
“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed. 
His fingers curled, pulling at the strings of tension that were already building in your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to scream for him, but knew you shouldn't. The walls of the ship were far from soundproof, and there were rooms on either side of you.
Capa’s thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it as his fingers continued to move inside of you. You were desperate for something to grab onto, but the only thing in front of you was blank wall. You settled for wrapping your legs around his, entangling yourselves together to give you some semblance of being grounded. You bucked against his hand, begging for more friction.
“Forgive me yet?” Capa teased, his breath ghosting over your ear again.
You shook your head no; not willing to give up on the game just yet. Behind you, Capa chuckled.
“So stubborn,” he muttered. “You really want to make me work for it.”
Capa took his fingers away, and you moaned at the sudden loss of him. Not wasting any more time, he grabbed your shorts and pulled them down. You had a brief moment to wonder what you had gotten yourself into.
You’d felt his growing bulge press into your back as Capa had teased you with his fingers, and now you felt him sliding out of his sweatpants. You were both naked from the waist down, and-
“Fuck, Capa.”
He was brushing the tip over your entrance, not pressing into you yet but just taunting with the idea of it. His hand was firmly at the base of his shaft, ready to guide himself up into you.
“Tell me how bad you want it.”
“Please, Capa.”
“Wanna hear you say it.”
“I need you inside me,” you whispered.
“Fucking beg for it.”
With a frustrated whine, you pushed down and back, forcing his cock into your aching pussy. He was such a tease; you couldn't take it any longer. He was so hard he slid right into you, and the stretch against your walls was like heaven.
Without warning, your orgasm broke over you, crashing into your body with an intensity unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was bliss and beauty and all for the man who was ruining you with every touch. You pressed harder, wanting to feel Capa inside of you as deep as you possibly could. You arched against him, head falling back against his shoulder as you rode out the high.
Capa grabbed at your breasts roughly.
“You know,” he began, “you've never been very good at following directions.”
He pulled out of you suddenly, making you gasp as you clenched around nothing. Quickly, you were flipped onto your back, and then Capa was hovering over you, his eyes burning ice blue.
“Let's try that again,” he said, lining himself up as he leaned forward, pressing his whole body against yours. “I want you. To fucking. Beg.”
“Capa, please,” you breathed.
“Please what?”
“Please put it in me! God, I want you to fill me up. Please, please-”
Capa smirked above you, and your eyes rolled back in your head.
“That's my good girl.”
The sound that left your mouth as he entered you once again would have been mortifying, had you been thinking straight enough to hear it. As it was, Capa seemed to drink up your pathetic mewls and breathy sighs. He pumped in and out of you a few times, watching as you bounced on the bed beneath him.
“Should've gotten you in my bed a long time ago,” Capa panted, still pumping into you relentlessly. “I could've been listening to your pretty noises this whole time.”
His face was right next to yours; the stubble on his jaw scratching you with every thrust. You could feel his lips brushing against your ear as he continued.
“Kinda regret wasting all those hours in the lab with you doing actual work. It's a lot more fun for me to press your buttons.”
Your arms and legs wrapped around him, and your fingers tangled in his hair. Capa kissed you roughly on the lips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, falling out of their methodical rhythm.
“Gonna let me cum inside you, yeah?”
You could do nothing but wrap your legs around him tighter, pinning him in place.
“Fuck, that's right. Gonna take all of it and beg for more. I'll have you in here every fucking night, on your back for me, screaming so that everybody hears how bad you want me to stick it in you.”
Capa’s mouth was going to be the death of you. You clenched around him, silently begging him to cum. It was humiliating, how badly you wanted to be filled by him.
“Oh, fuck!” Capa shouted, entirely too loud.
He held you tight as he emptied into you, giving a few final, weak thrusts. He was breathing heavily, still looming over you as his chest heaved. After a few seconds, he pulled back to look at you.
“So, does that make up for leaving this morning?” he asked, smirk still plastered on his face.
“I… don't know,” you panted. “I think we might need to do it once more… to make sure.”
You looked up at him, mischief playing in your own eyes. Capa wasn't the only one who could tease.
“Oh yeah? Only once more?” he prodded. 
He reached up to push the hair out of his face, slicked down with the sweat of his exertion. But despite that, you could already feel him getting hard again.
“Well, maybe a few times,” you smiled.
You leaned up and caught his lips in a kiss.
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danytar · 9 days
Text
“Always” [ Prince!Aegon X Wife!Reader ]
Warnings: expletives, cussing, Unfaithful aegon,fondle breasts,vulgarity,sex,(m receiving), dark aegon,hedonistic, sm jealous ").
Summary: Your loving husband returns to your room in the middle of the night after his exciting adventures in the pleasure houses.
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It is known that your husband had a bad reputation in the court even your marriage to him did not prevent him from continuing his bad hobbies It wasn't a very terrible marriage but also not that perfect.
You and your husband have learned to understand each other he was so kind and sweet to you and when it comes to sex he's an expert and never leave you unsatisfied.
But there was a problem.. your jealousy and your possession you wanted him all for yourself something he didn't know and you didn't show. At first It was okay and you didn't have a problem with his actions because no matter how many women he sleeps with, he will always come back to you. he loved you but this was not enough to stop him.
Even though he told you hundreds of times that he loves you and all those whores mean nothing to him, you still insist that he does not love you.. that you was not enough for him.
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It was almost the midnight and you were in your chambers lying on your bed with a book in your hands reading in peace the air was cold and the room was a bit dark just the light of candles that are about to go out a little things made your day.
Your soft air was interrupted by the sound of the bedroom doorknob being turned. and there he was as usual a drunk and barely able to walk his clothes were dirty his silver locks were disheveled he smell reeked of sweat and cheap wine, not to mention the women ofc..
“you still awake? Were you waiting for me, my sweet love?”. He barely uttered his words he dragged himself towards your bed.
You put your book aside and sighed in frustration you looked at him with a disappointed look and a slight frown on your lips. “The brothel again?”.
He looked sheepish, his cheeks reddening, but he didn't seem all that remorseful. though, he had the sense to look away from you, his silence confirming that it was, indeed once again the brothel.
“Don't you feel ashamed of your actions? ”. You spoke to him in a serious tone this time because you were really fed up with his actions he was standing close to your bed but he looked at you and then said in a drunken tone:
“Why should I be ashamed? I did nothing wrong...” He laughed, but it was a nervous, shaky laugh.You could just hear him sigh through the silence following his reply.“I-” He pauses “It doesn't mean I dont love you-” He coughs, wiping the wine stained lips on his robes sleeve. “I cant help it... I just-”
“You have made us the laughing stock of the court”. you replied with a heavy sigh. He shrugs slightly, he's never had a problem with being laughed at before, he simply drank that feeling away too. “It doesnt matter... People laugh behind our backs anyway”.
He looks at you through heavy-ish eyes. He doesnt look at you like you are a mother scolding him, he looks at you like he is a boy getting rejected for the first time. It's a pathetic look, but he cant hold eye contact long enough for either of you to comment on it.
“Why are you here aegon? ”.
“What do you mean? Im here because I-” He sighs, his hands gripping the sheets as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Because I’m your husband!..”
“My husband changes his whores more than his clothes.”
He chuckles at that, finding your bluntness slightly humorous, not to mention it made him feel like he wasn't in such a hard spot. “...Thats not true”. He says, hoping you'll let it go at that.
When he tries to touch you, you move your hands away from him “Don't touch me or something”. you replied In a firm, almost broken voice.
He is visibly hurt by the rejection, but is too exhausted to even show the emotion to its fullest, he only slightly grimaced when you moved your hands away. He tries again, but doesnt say anything, begging you silently to forgive him for once or at least humour a kiss or something.
“You didn't even try to wash yourself off that shit.”
He sighs. “I...” He rubs his eyes, too tired to even say anything. For once in his life, he was at a loss for words. It was like he knew he was too dirty to even deserve a kiss, and yet his desire and desperation to be loved overpowered that.
You quickly grab your book and ignore his presence. Aegon sighs, he didnt want to be ignored, even in the state he was in. “Darling...” He tried to reach for the book, wanting to gain your attention when you didn't answer him, he placed his head on your shoulder and looked at the page you were reading.
He groans slightly, wanting to at least get your attention.“I missed you y/n ” He sighs “Im tired and drunk and-” He pauses as if searching for the right answer, settling on the most honest one. “Lonely”.
“Why didn’t you bring your whores with you? Maybe they would fill your loneliness.” after your comment he feels himself boil, the rage boiling inside him. “Oh come on, its not the same, and you know it! Theyre not you, and they dont fill the void either, you know that...”
“Don't fool me aegon-” You push the sheets off and get out of bed when he saw you doing that he growls “Damn it, you know what Im talking about!”.
He is too tired to properly have this argument and he was trying desperately to get you to understand him. The silence was getting to him and he was starting to get angry and frustrated because he felt himself not being understood. “All I wanted was your company, and the first thing you ask me is about some brothel?!”
“I'm tired of your behavior! you're.... you're...” You paused for a moment to find the right word.
“I’m what?" He snaps, the anger finally boiling out of him. “What am I? Tell me!”
“A WHORE ”.
He scowls, the words stinging him like fire. "Shut your mouth!" He tries to sit up, but the alcohol makes him dizzy as he falls back. "Youre as much of a whore as I am, you know that right?!". He approaches you and grabs your arm tightly Even if he was a drunk, he is still stronger than you.
“You dare talk back to me! maybe I should put you in your place again wife”. He growled into your ear when you try to look at him he slaps you hard. You are surprised by the sudden slap. This is the first time he has raised his hand on you like that.
You do not let the slap go unnoticed, but return it to him harder which causes him to stumble backwards. He growls in pain when you returned his slap with a greater amount of force, his jaw slightly dropping with surprise.
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He takes a step backwards, but only because of the sharp pain that shoots across his cheek. He rubs his cheek for a bit, trying to soothe the sting. His eyes turn to you again, and you can still see the anger in his eyes. This was new.
His hand moves from your arm to your face and he grabs your cheek, his thumb feeling over the spot where he had struck you.
He narrows his eyes as he watches you, his thumb rubbing the mark he had left there. He is still filled with the rage of jealousy and bitterness, but he is also filled with sadness. He leans down, bringing his face only an inch from yours.
When you tried to evade his grip, he held you in place and pressed his lips firmly on yours, whether you liked it or not. The suddenness of his action caused you to stiffen, and in the moment of stiffness, you didnt immediately respond to his kiss.
He could feel every tensed muscle in your body and he relished in the feeling. It was as if you had been a puppet for him to control like they way he wanted to. It was a feeling of pure power, and he loved it.
He was still holding your face, keeping you in place when he wrapped his hands around your wrists, he gently guided them to his neck, wanting you to feel the power he had over you. He pressed his mouth on yours again, pushing his body into yours as his grip on you tightened.
He was feeling completely overwhelmed with power as he started to rip into your dresses. It felt good to finally show you who was truly in-charge. It wasnt your body nor your choice. It was his. He owned you. He tore off your dress, before taking you roughly to the bed.
He began to forcefully remove his clothes as he said “I know what my greedy wife wants.. she wants my cock only for herself ”.
“You know what I want, so why do you keep giving my rights to other women?”. He laughed and lay on top of you "I like to make you jealous." He said before he started nibbling and sucking your neck to your thighs.
"They're nothing...nothing like my wife's sweet pussy”. You mumbled and parted your legs he placed wet kisses on your thighs, reaching your sweet spot which he loves the most.Your breath hitched when you felt his tongue on you.
You tangled your fingers in his hair and let him give you his services. Even if he is clumsy and makes you angry, he has his own ways of making you feel good.
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After several rounds, you felt a terrible pain between your legs maybe the most Sweetest pain you have ever felt. Your head was on his chest while his arms were gently caressing your ass.
It was a moment of bliss and calm between the two of you.You were listening to his heartbeat and feeling his chest rising and falling slowly. He broke the silence by saying: “I will never see them again.”
“What? ”. You lifted your head from his chest to look at him. He gently stroked your cheek with his other hand and looked at you “The pleasure houses.. I won't go again, I promise.. I realized how foolish I was.. I love you I don't want to lose you for the sake of random whores ”.
you looks at him with all the love you have.. “I love you too aegon”. He lifted his head to place a small kiss on your lips.
“Will you love me always? ”
“Always my love”.
He smilies.. “Can I pass out now?”. you chuckled and nodded he immediately closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. You kept your head on his chest, your fingers drawing random circles on it. You stayed like that for a short while until you passed out with him..
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♡ – 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @darylandbethfanforever9 @hisfavegiri @callsignwidow @xitsemm @saltytidalwavetyphoon @khaleesihel @credulouskhaleesi @lovelykhaleesiii
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mercurianchild · 3 months
Note
hey beautiful,
could you make a post about Venus in 8th house? You’ve mentioned you have this placement and I do too! Thank you very much for your time. 🩷
🖤Venus in the 8th house🖤
TW: mentions of death and s*x
The most common thing I have seen is that this placement (along with scorpio Venus and Venus-Pluto aspects) is s*xualised and glamorised a lot. While it is true, that this placement gives an alluring and interesting aura, it’s not just that. Venus 8th house people have to offer so much more!
A lot of my friends and family members share this placement and we all share one thing: the ability to love so deeply that it hurts. This ability can also turn toxic or even turn into obsession if this placement is underdeveloped.
A lot of 8th housers also stay with people for longer than they should. Most of the times they have outgrown some situations or people, but they refuse to let go because of the feelings they feel. I’ve also been trough that many times. In hope that the spark will come back or that the people involved would change.
A common thing I’ve seen is that it is really hard to let go of people they love. I’ve seen this in friends AND family members that they just can’t let go of certain people where love was involved. For me, it’s still that one guy who I haven’t talked to for 5 months now. In the end, he hurt me. But he showed me what it’s like to be loved. I am still not over him and I know it will take some work to let go of him. With him, I experienced what I envisioned as love between two beings.
Venus in 8th house people are (like other 8th house placements) able to read people like a book. The gut feeling about others is never wrong. Intuition is high.
Could be more into trying extreme and intense things in bed like bdsm or playing with knives. 🔪💀⛓️
Very much into occultism and practising it. All my 8th house friends, for example, are in coven or practices witchcraft. Very into herbs and Hollis tub healing methods.
Which leads to the point that people with this placement are natural healers (if developed).
Natural understanding for psychology. Like really!!! Not just theoretical, but also being able to apply it in real life!
Constantly going through death and rebirth moments in life. A lot of ego deaths will happen.
On the other hand, this placement can bring a lot of hate and resentment from women (no matter if the individual is male or female). A lot of jealousy from other woman which makes it hard to find out who will stab you in the back when you’re not around. This can also lead to trust issues in friendships!
Feeling emotions so intense that it may be difficult to word them. Something that helped me was to find a creative way to let them out. Writing, painting or creating music are wonderful activities.
Red and darker colours look wonderful on these individuals (yes, this can vary depending on the rest of the chart and genetics)
Underdeveloped Venus in 8th house can make someone prone to be a pick me or a real meanie.
Either these individuals had some point of being bullied in teen years or them bullying others.
Constant feelings of so much depth. Whenever I’m around other 8th housers I feel so understood. It’s like a warm hug. We just know what you’re feeling.
I said it before, but the ability to heal… just by being there. Just the presence of these individuals is so intoxicating and loving!
Tend to have very dark humour and make jokes about inappropriate things.
Knack for taboo topics. No fear in discussing them.
Love to keep things private or even a secret. Like being involved in affairs just for the sake of it being a secret thing. I feel like some may enjoy something like that just for the thrill of it.
A lot of secret admirers!!
Can have issues with s*xuality and some may not be s*xually active until their late teen years or early adulthood. From what I’ve seen in friends, read online or even experiences myself, there can be also some unconscious trauma relating to one’s s*xuality.
Last but not least: these individuals are hard to forget, as they carry so much depth, magic and power… once they recognise their potential, it’s over for all them bitches trying to put them down!!
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mysteryshoptls · 3 months
Text
Happy Winter Holiday Gift Calendar 2023
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These are all the messages that you get from the boys when you log in during the Winter Holiday Campaign from 09 Dec 2023 to 31 Dec 2023! For those that want to read them again, you can find them in the Album, under GIFT CALENDAR 2023.
"How will you be spending the day?"
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HEARTSLABYUL
Riddle
I think I will go to the library today. There were someone's scribbles all over the book I borrowed yesterday, you see. It disrupts my focus, so I plan to find a replacement book. Seriously... It's a terrible crime to deface a book like this.
Ace
Today? Well, it's snowing outside, and I got no club practice, so maybe I'll check out on my streaming service a movie or show that catches my eye. I can stay warm and cozy in my room, all while munching on some snacks. Don'tcha think we deserve lazy days like this sometimes?
Deuce
I'm going to try to finish the assignments I got today, before the day ends. That's what an honor student should do, right? But... The first question is already a tough prac app question...? Right! Just gotta hunker down and get down to it!
Cater
Maybe I'll surf Magicam for some 'cammable spots that're only available in the winter. Stuff like diamond dust, or hotels made from ice... Knowin' they're only limited to the season really gets me psyched up!
Trey
It's pretty cold every day now, so I think I'll stock up on lemonade-ginger syrup. It'll warm you right up if you drink some. What, according to the Queen of Hearts' Laws, we can't have lemonade after 8 o'clock? Well, this has ginger in it, so it's a completely different drink, isn't it?
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SAVANACLAW
Leona
No plans worth mentioning. What, not what you were expecting? Well, too bad. The campus is completely covered in snow, so the best thing for me to do is just to get back to my dorm room and relax while solving some chess problems.
Jack
The track team has practice today. But since it's supposed to snow in the afternoon, it may just end up being indoor training. It takes a while or the body to get limber in the winter. That means we need to extra thorough in our warming up exercises.
Ruggie
Obviously, I'm gonna be workin'! Today, I'm at a cake shop, and tomorrow I'm waitin' tables at a restaurant... The holidays are coming up, so 'tis the season for a ton of high-payin' temp jobs to fill my pockets, too! Shishishi!
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OCTAVINELLE
Azul
As always, I will be awaiting everyone's visit to the Mostro Lounge. On a cold day such as this, we usually receive orders for dishes that are more common in the winter season. I'm sure today will be a rather busy day.
Jade
I thought perhaps I would make a herbarium. The atmosphere this time of year tends to be dry, so it is the perfect opportunity. How would you like to join me? No need to worry, I will show you how everything is done.
Floyd
Yesterday I saw someone wearing these boots lined with fur, and it looked kinda fascinating, so I thought I'd try to find some in town. I wonder if it's hard to walk in? If I find a good pair, I think I'll buy 'em and try 'em out.
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SCARABIA
Kalim
Today, we have travelling salesmen from the Scalding Sands coming. I'm planning on buying a ton of stuff for the holidays! It's so exciting to think about what kind of treasure I might find! You should bring some friends over and check it out, too.
Jamil
There's no club activities today, so I plan to look into a few things. My family will be going on a trip over the holidays, you see. Tourist attractions, climate, local cuisine, souvenirs... Never a bad idea to gather too much information, don't you think?
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POMEFIORE
Vil
I intend on picking up the spring coat I had on order. I'll also look for accessories that go with it while I'm out. Hm? It's too early to think about spring attire? If I wait to prepare everything for after it starts to get warmer, then I'll completely miss out on the season.
Epel
Snow's piling up again today, so I'm plannin' on clearing the magical shift field with the rest of my clubmates. Didn't bother me none, but the other guys were all dog-tired... Pathetic, ain't they?
Rook
I plan to check on the houseplants we are cultivating in the Science Club. Fufu, I wonder what sort of expressions they'll have today? I do hope there'll be some changes from yesterday that I'll get to enjoy.
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IGNIHYDE
Idia
Obvi, just been hyperfixating on my online games, like always... Rather, why would you think I'd go out in cold weather like this in the first place? I recently overhauled the internet speed in the dorm, so it's crazy fast now lol. Gonna actually pull an all-nighter, it's been a while!
Ortho
It'll probably be a game day with my roommates, since the new game that I ordered online arrived. Physical games might take up more space, but I just can't help but want to actually collect my favorite games, y'know?
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DIASOMNIA
Malleus
It's chilly today. The best thing to possibly do on days like this is to warm my room and enjoy some frozen treats. Perhaps I'll invite Lilia and the others later. Fufu... I suppose it's not a bad thing to be the one making preparations for them once in a while.
Silver
I will be practicing my swordsmanship with Father after this. I thought I would finish up my assignments beforehand, but... Before I realized it, I had fallen asleep and my notepad was completely blank. What should I do...?
Sebek
I plan to read the book I ordered from the Mystery Shop the other day. It's a book that I've been eagerly awaiting. Grandfather was the one to recommend it to me, so I must read it over and over again and tell him my thoughts on it!
Lilia
We have band practice today. However... When it gets cold like this, my fingers get numb and hard to move. Hm? Naah, I already have the songs memorized. It's really only about staying in rhythm with the other members!
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OTHERS
Grim
Brrr, it's cold~! Hey, henchie! Today we're gonna stay cozy under that "KOTATSU" thingie. We'll have some snacks and play some games together... Myaha! Today's totally gonna be a blast!
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Requested by Anonymous.
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1d1195 · 4 months
Text
Dolcezza IV
Read Dolcezza here
A little fluffy, a little angsty; hope you like it! :)
~8.6k words
“Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.
Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”
“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.
Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”
“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”
She nodded. “I know.”
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“Yes Mom, I know. I understand,” she listened to her mother at the other end of her phone. She piled her stuff in the back of her car and rubbed her forehead. Slamming the door shut, she continued listening to her mom ramble on and on. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half,” she assured her rolling her neck from side to side. A day off was rarely a day off for her. The peacefulness of her personal day was over. It was onto the chaotic portion which would no doubt leave her feeling unrested and anxious.
Thinking about her book, she heard her mom’s continued chatter. Her complaints of how no one helped her around the house and “did I tell you about who I ran into at the grocery store?”
“Mom! I have to go!” She longed for the book she was reading only an hour prior. Thought about the deep breathing from the online yoga class she followed from YouTube only two hours prior. Ending the call, she sighed heavily again, squared her shoulders, and fell into the driver’s seat.
With a frown, she looked at the empty restaurant, lights off, closed sign hanging in the window. She didn’t even get to see Harry before she left, and she really wanted to. Since Harry took care of her, she ached to see Harry more frequently but was trying to keep her distance so as not to overwhelm him. The last place she would ever want to see her stalker was at work (not to mention it would be worse since she mostly worked from home). For anyone, it was uncomfortable when someone was flirty and there was no escape (because it was their job to be there).
She should have just texted him. That’s what Harry gave her his number for right? To be friends?
To flirt, hopefully. She thought to herself.
But since he had given her number, she hadn’t been the first one to text. Call her ridiculous or playing hard to get. Part of her couldn’t believe someone as handsome and wonderful as Harry wanted to chat with her. She never wanted to bother him, and she imagined that if she started talking, she would never want to stop. Harry would need space and...
Well, it spiraled pretty quickly.
So, all their conversations over text had been through Harry sending the first message.
Since she helped that busy night a few months back, she made her way to the kitchen at least once a week. Antonio enjoyed her help and found her adorable and helpful in a way that he couldn’t find in many employees. “Don’t get me wrong tesorino, I love my employees. They’re family. But they’re also in high school and college and they don’t care nearly as much as I do about this place.” She overheard him tell Niall, “It’s nice to depend on her as a tenant, someone I can trust Leo with, and someone that cares for the restaurant like she’s worked here her whole life.”
It made her feel warm, and she loved helping. It had been nearly routine; working from home, going to the gym, running errands, eating eggplant and spaghetti, and smiling at Harry through the kitchen window. It was so nice to relax and be around people who liked her company. People who didn’t make her feel crazy like her family.
It was nice to relax and not worry about being followed for the first time in a really long time.
I could send a simple, “good morning, have a good day” text. She thought. It was harmless. She could do that.
Right?
Sighing, she decided against it. Maybe he was sleeping in. She tried to remember what day he had off that week but was coming up short. Maybe she would come say hello at the end of her long day if she wasn’t too exhausted. But it was unlikely that would be the case at the end of what would be a long, long day. There was always tomorrow.
Plus, if Harry ended up texting her back, she would probably crash her car to answer him. Shoving the key in the ignition, she was trying to be positive, but it was hard to do so when she was not going to see Harry and she was not looking forward to the rest of her day off.
The feeling was only amplified as her engine did not turn over. She groaned. “No, no, no…” she whined. She knew very little about cars. Every year she asked her parents to renew her AAA membership for her birthday. She was ever practical, and it was a huge joke among her extended family. It was something she hated paying for herself but wouldn’t be caught dead without.
Right when the car didn’t start, she should have just called AAA. But instead—maybe because she was already frustrated and anxious about dealing with her family—she got out of her car to look at the mechanical engineering, as if she even knew what she was doing. With her phone’s flashlight, she peered under the hood, like she would suddenly know what she was looking for. She readjusted the strap of her purse to keep it from falling into the greasy, mechanical things and getting disgusting. Always one to take the time to learn a new skill, her dad showed her how to change a battery, check her oil, and replace various things in her car once she got her license. She was praying the battery was somehow disconnected. Because even if she had called AAA right then and there, it would ruin her whole schedule. Her whole day. She would let her family down and that would...well that would be really bad for her psyche.
But at the heart of it, it really made no sense for her to look under the hood. The thought of seeing her family tended to wreak havoc on her mind and make her do things like this.
A gust of wind made it’s way down the road. It blew her hair in her face and as she tried to blow it back out of her mouth, she heard the thunk of her car door closing. She bounced at the sound because it scared her. Making her hit her head on the open hood. “FUCK!” She hissed, rubbing the sore spot. She hurried to look at the door that had betrayed her. “No, no, no,” she whined reaching for the handle, but her gut already told her it was too late.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she groaned rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms. After thirty seconds of silence and utter disbelief, she began smacking the window with the open palms of her hands repeatedly. She made grunting and grumpy noises and kicked the tire for good measure. “You stupid piece—!” She hissed and continued to beat up the inanimate object.
Harry saw her from his own car when he pulled into the parking space nearby. Niall looked up from the passenger seat while Harry checked to make sure he was safely and adequately in the spot.
“Oof, that doesn’t look too good,” Niall murmured, just as she began attacking her car.
Harry hurried to throw the car in park and get out of his vehicle.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushed seemingly from nowhere. He quickly raced to her, pulling her by the hips swiftly so there was small distance from her vehicle to keep her from hitting it and preventing her from self-injury. “Principessa,” his voice was so soothing. Even though she was livid and frustrated, she couldn’t help but feel like he was speaking directly into her soul, his voice warm and perfect.
The few times she ended up in Dolcezza’s kitchen, Harry was somehow kinder to her than when they were interacting elsewhere. His voice was gentle as he walked past her with a hot tray. “Behind y’principessa,” or “watch y’hands, kitten, this one’s hot.” Something of that nature. Even when it was busy as could be, he would gently place a hand on her lower back and walk by her making her stomach flutter.
Harry touching her and physically pulling her away from her vehicle, on top of that soothing warm voice, almost made her feel remorse for attacking her car. “The car is gonna win, every time, kitten.” His hands now gripped the top of her arms holding her in place even though she strained ever so slightly against his hold to return to her frustrated movements. Niall was close behind. He tried all her doors to see if they were unlocked. But no dice.
Her face crumpled and Harry thought he would cry if she did. “This is the worst day off in the history of days off,” she moaned.
Harry released the top of her arms, skimmed down the length of them and rotated her hands for injury. All the while she explained the awfulness of the last ten minutes, all the things she had to do and why she was upset that this was the time her car had chosen to break down. Niall frowned at her story, no doubt feeling bad for her, but Harry could see the delight in his eyes. “Well, tesorino, don’t count today out just yet. Harry also has the day off. I’m sure he would be happy to drive you to your mum’s,” he clapped Harry on the back of his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on your car. Make sure they get your keys safely in my hands and your car to the dealership.”
Harry smirked awkwardly and coughed as Niall volunteered him. Of course, he would do it, but he knew that she would be upset.
It was evident by the way her skin pinked with the suggestion. The thought of Harry doing something kind for her without any return on his time investment? “No way,” she snorted almost bitterly. “This is an all-day expedition,” she shook her head. “I can’t ask you to give up your day off for me.”
This was great for Harry on fifty different levels, minimum. He would get to see her in her element, talk to her about a ton of stuff, meet her family, and see her hometown. There wasn’t a better day off to be had. Except she looked infuriated, and Harry wasn’t sure he was exempt from her frustration. She texted rapidly on her phone. “Could y’go another day, kitten?” Harry asked softly. She shook her head. Tears were definitely filling her eyes at the mere thought. “Okay, so let’s go,” Harry shrugged and walked toward his car. She frowned.
“You really... don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Harry,” she whispered so quietly, and he turned around as he held the passenger door open. Her heart nearly stopped. She forgot why she was so mad. She wasn’t sure anyone had held a door open for her like that. Ever. “It’s... a lot,” she told him.
He smiled looking back over his shoulder. “Then we better get moving.”
She stayed put and felt so utterly awful, but Harry was waiting. It felt wrong to keep him waiting. Especially when she could only imagine what the day would bring without him really knowing.
“Did you desperately need anything in your car?” Niall asked, trying the handle once more.
“Yeah, like all that baking stuff,” she rubbed her forehead not having any kind of backup plan for that scenario. Harry frowned and closed the door to the car and started for the restaurant. At least Harry could come up with a backup plan for her.
“Why are you bringing baking stuff?” Niall peered into the backseat to see a bag of groceries and three cupcake pans, ignoring Harry’s path to Dolcezza’s front door.
“Uhh…” she swallowed hard. Obviously, whatever the reason was not something she felt like sharing. At least not right then. Harry frowned.
“It doesn’t matter, Principessa, don’t worry. Ni, can y’help grab some stuff,” he said opening the door to the restaurant. In a matter of minutes, she had replaced the groceries and metal pans that she had brought from her apartment.
“Niall, can you give them to Antonio when you get the car open?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together in worry.
He nodded. “Course, tesorino,” he smiled. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
“I would wait and ask Antonio for his key, get my spare car key, everything...but—”
“Principessa,” Harry said pressing a hand on her lower back making her feel like she might pass out. It took every ounce of restraint to not let the shiver threatening to roll through her body viciously for him and Niall to see her completely lose her mind over Harry’s touch. “S’okay. He’ll understand. Let’s go,” he smiled opening his car door again for her to sit in the passenger seat.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully. Harry rolled down the window as he started his car.
“It’s what friends are for, tesorino,” Niall winked at her. She was only a half hour behind schedule. An easy comeback.
She nodded. Other than Eleanor and Louis, she wasn’t sure she knew what that was like. “Well, still,” she said softly. “I’ll make it up to you,” she promised.
Niall smiled gently at her and caught Harry’s gaze very briefly before he pulled away from the curb.
*
Once on the highway, she made a call to her sister, and explained the problem. At the same time, Harry called Niall and gave specific instructions not to let her keys out of his sight. Overcome, once more by the worry of someone stealing her keys and finding her apartment upstairs. Throwing that thought out of his mind, he told Niall that he had to pass the car one off to the tow truck driver and hold her other ones until they got back. He also left him in charge of making sure her car was properly taken care of, and he was to text Harry if there was an issue. She spent the first hour of the drive near silence. Instead, texting and scrolling on her phone. It didn’t upset Harry, but it did worry him. “Do y’need anything kitten? Wanna stop for coffee or...?”
She shook her head. “Maybe later,” she answered.
He nodded. “Alright.”
It very much seemed like she didn’t want to talk. But right as the GPS alerted her that they would arrive in half an hour she started to squirm ever so slightly.
“Y’okay, Principessa?”
She sighed and put her head in her hands. “My family is a lot,” she told him. “Like just chaotic and a little crazy; it’s embarrassing.”
He frowned. “Okay, I’m... I’m sorry that y’feel embarrassed. But... every family has something, y’know?” His voice was gentle and quiet. Encouraging. “M’not going t’like... say anything.”
She nodded. “Thank you,” she looked at her lap, inspecting her fingertips.
“Plus, if... if you came from them... they’re already the most wonderful people I’ll ever meet,” he shrugged as if that wasn’t the sweetest, kindest thing she’d ever heard. He didn’t get a good look because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the road, but he hoped her cheeks were that pretty pink color.
“They’re good people...but...” she sighed.
“Kitten,” he reached over and put his hand on her squirming fingers. He gave them a reassuring squeeze. “S’okay. I promise,” he whispered.
She took a deep breath and looked out the window. Harry glanced at her briefly. It was the safest he had ever driven in his life—and he was already a safe driver. But even though he was desperate to hold her hand the way he was right now; he couldn’t help but feel bad about removing his hand from the two-position. She was the most precious thing he had ever had in his car and wanted to keep her safe no matter what—even if he really wanted to keep holding her hand and assure her it would be alright.
She looked at Harry in her peripheral. “My sister is going to fall in love with you.”
He smirked. “M’a bit older than her, yeah?”
“She’s eighteen,” she sighed. “But we think she was born as a thirteen-year-old.”
“S’a bit young for me,” he winked. She squeezed his hand as she smiled softly. Harry wondered if she knew she did that but didn’t want to bring it to her attention.
“Also,” she took another deep breath. “They don’t... I’ve never told them about the person following me,” she mumbled. Harry very nearly stopped the car.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oh?”
“They would...” she shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Isn’t y’brother a dispatcher? Does he want t’be a police officer?”
“Yeah...but...” she shrugged. “I don’t know. Please don’t mention it, not that I think you would but—”
“Kitten,” he frowned. “S’a pretty big thing t’hide from your family.”
“Well,” she was skimming her thumb along the back of Harry’s hand, and he had never enjoyed hand holding so much in his whole life. “It would just worry them,” her voice was quiet. Like she wanted to tell them. Maybe she wanted them to worry about her. “I don’t... they don’t need to worry about me,” she mumbled. “It’s not a big deal, really. You know?”
It was. Every time Harry saw her, there was the smallest part of his brain thinking about how someone was so obsessed with her that he watched her every movement for over a year. So much so that she had to move. It wasn’t a way to live, and she didn’t see it as a problem. Didn’t see it as something that people who cared about her should worry about. Harry wanted to cry about how sweet she was. She deserved... everything.
“I won’t say anything, Principessa,” he squeezed her hand. She smiled.
“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me... someone that isn’t Eleanor or Louis,” she explained.
“Eleanor...” he followed the GPS’s directions to get off the highway. It wasn’t quite a city, but not a small town either. There were lots of stores and restaurants right off the exit and Harry stopped at the red light. “El mentioned y’had an ex-boyfriend—”
“Course she did,” she rolled her eyes.
Harry ignored her comment. “—he must’ve... helped.”
She shrugged. “Yeah... but...” she looked at how her hands were holding Harry’s. It was so warm and somehow more intimate than every kiss she had with her ex. It felt like holding Harry’s hand was holding a piece of his heart and she didn’t necessarily think it was as simple as that... but she really liked it. “He... he complained a lot,” she mumbled. “I told you my family is a lot, and they are. But... they’re good people and I love them so it’s...” she sighed. “It’s complicated. I shouldn’t have dated him for as long as I did. Eleanor was probably right to not like him. By the end of it... it was like we lived two separate lives. I just did what I wanted and he...” she shrugged nonchalantly.
“You deserved more,” he finished.
“Well...I don’t know about—”
“No, Principessa,” he interrupted, cutting her off. “S’not a negotiation. You deserved more,” he promised squeezing her hand. They turned off the main road. Harry let her contemplate his statement in silence and continued following the GPS.
Her neighborhood was quaint and looked like a great place to grow up. It was the type of neighborhood little ones probably loved to Trick or Treat in. The kind where you could go to a neighbor’s house and ask for a cup of sugar and chat for so long you forgot to finish baking. Harry wondered if people sang Christmas carols or had block parties. But her grip had stiffened around Harry’s hand, and he could see her physically steeling herself. Her shoulders stiffened, everything about her seemed to be almost defensive. “If it’s too much for you,” she said getting out of the car and grabbing the baking items out of the back seat, “you can leave... there’s a cute mall with shops and restaurants back toward the highway if you need time to get away. I wouldn’t... I won’t blame you,” she turned her attention to the house she grew up in and looked at the Christmas lights still hanging from the gutter, draped on the shrubs.
It was February, now. Her heart felt heavy.
Harry had gotten screamed at during culinary school four and a half out of five days of the week. She was the kindest sweetest soul on the planet. There was no way her family could be so bad that he would feel the need to leave. “Thank you, kitten. M’going t’be fine,” he winked at her taking the bag of supplies and the pans from her, so she had free hands to open the front door. With a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside.
It was loud. That was the first thing Harry noticed. There was yelling from one room to the other. In her defense, it wasn’t angry. It was as if they didn’t want to leave their rooms. The smoke detector was going off and a clang of pans coming from the kitchen. “She’s here!” A voice shouted from somewhere upstairs. Harry glanced around quickly catching pictures of when she was younger. He hoped he had a chance to look at them again later.
Harry watched her as she took in the scene. The living room and dining room were a bit cluttered. But it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. She hoped after she told them a friend was driving because of her car situation that they would clean up a bit. Maybe they did, or maybe her sister finally found better lighting in her room to do her makeup and skincare routine each morning instead of the living room. She pulled the items from Harry’s hands so he could take his coat off. He did so silently, and quickly took the items back from her so she could do the same.
Obviously, the smoke detector and kitchen were her first stop. “Mom,” she said evenly as she walked into the kitchen. Harry followed behind. It was a little more cluttered. Especially considering they knew she was coming over to bake cupcakes.
“Hey sweetie!” The woman turned. Harry could see his future. The sweet girl would grow up to be a pretty mom just like the woman in front of him. “Oh hello; I thought Eleanor was driving you.”
Harry saw her entire body flinch then, somehow, stiffen more. “Eleanor moved, Mom. I told you that.” The smoke detector was still going off and it somehow wasn’t fazing any of them and Harry found that rather funny and cute. But he was surprised that her mom didn’t remember her best friend had moved.
“Silly me, must have forgot,” she laughed and shrugged. She turned and took Harry’s items once more and set them on the little space left on the kitchen island.
“This is Harry,” she gestured to him.
Harry held his hand out. “Nice to meet you. You have a lovely home.”
She grinned and Harry could see every facial feature of the sweet girl had come directly from her mother. It was almost uncanny. “Thank you, Harry. Thanks for driving her,” she smiled. “Emma, honey! what are we doing with the smoke detector?”
“Nothing? Why?” The female voice responded.
Harry watched the girl’s face drop with exhaustion. The poor thing. They hadn’t been there longer than two minutes. Her mom rolled her eyes. “Can you turn it off?”
“I don’t know how!”
“I got it!” A male voice answered.
There was a clatter and a thud, but the alarm stopped. She felt the ringing of it still in her ears. “Honey, your daughter is here,” her mom sang.
After a moment, her father stepped into the kitchen joining them. “Hey sweetie,” he smiled. He nodded at Harry and gave his daughter a hug. She returned the hug, the light in her eyes seemed dead making her look stoic and tired. “No Eleanor?”
She nodded. “No Eleanor,” she sighed.
“Eleanor moved,” her mom answered pulling a casserole dish out of the oven. It smelled delicious.
“Really?” her dad said in surprise.
“M’Harry,” he said holding his hand out again for him to shake next. She was watching her mother with her casserole dish, she quickly moved things off the counter, so she had room to set it down. It wasn’t the most unusual thing, but it was very obvious that she was used to anticipating her family’s every movement. Maybe that’s why it was so nice to work with her in the kitchen at Dolcezza.
“What brings you here?” He asked.
“Emma’s bake sale,” she answered and began throwing used cooking utensils in the sink. She peeked into the dishwasher and noticed it was full. “Is this clean or dirty?” She asked.
“It’s clean. I asked Emma to empty it.”
“When?” she muttered under her breath looking at the stack of plates and dishes in the sink piling high enough that she thought she would have to run two loads while she was here. Harry was taking it all in, looking at the pictures on the fridge. “What’s she doing?”
“Who knows,” her mom smirked with an eyeroll. “Our princess is something else,” she explained to Harry with a smile.
Harry returned the smile but didn’t think Emma could be a princess. Not if she didn’t unload the dishwasher when she was asked. Nor if she knew how to handle a smoke detector. Harry got the sense that she was perhaps a bit spoiled—not through any fault of her own but ten years younger than her oldest sibling, she had to be waited on throughout her childhood.
Not to mention the only Prinicipessa in Harry’s life was the sweet girl he had spent an hour and a half with in the car. “Emma!” Her dad called.
“Coming!” She shouted and Harry heard a flutter of footfalls on the stairs coming from around the corner.
Her jaw dropped when she entered the kitchen. “You’re not Eleanor,” she said in surprise. Harry smirked. The poor girl looked ready to cry right there. Not one of them remembered. He wished he had her brother’s phone number just so he could warn him in advance. If he said Eleanor later Harry would lose it. He found it so unbearably sad, he thought she was going to cry. She flexed her jaw.
“Eleanor moved,” her dad explained.
“Huh,” she shrugged.
“M’Harry,” he said for the third time and held his hand out.
It seemed the genes she got from her mom were extremely strong. The three of them could have been mistaken for triplets. Her sister stared at him in surprise and nodded. “Emma,” she mumbled in surprise.
“Emma, can you empty the dishwasher since we have to make cupcakes and need space?” She asked.
Her sister rolled her eyes and Harry turned his attention again to the pictures on the fridge. Harry had his fair share of arguments with Gemma growing up. But he knew two sisters who argued could be on another level. “Did Mom ask you to ask me?”
Their mom opened her mouth, but she spoke before her mom uttered a syllable. “No Emma, but it’s courtesy to do what mom asks you to do, you know?”
“I was going to get to it after I finished my makeup.”
“Right because the dishes need you to be looking your best to get in the cabinet. Forget it. I’ll do it,” she sighed rubbing a hand on her forehead. “Why are the Christmas lights still up? I thought you were taking them down last week while James was home?” She wondered.
“James didn’t want to,” Emma shrugged. “Who cares? It’s pretty in the snow.”
She shared a look with her mom who once more looked so much like Harry’s sweet Principessa. She looked exhausted.
Oh.
Her mother’s genes were really strong. The exhaustion wasn’t something that just happened to her, it had been happening for longer than she had been alive.
“Alright,” she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “I will...manage that too.”
“Sweetie, you don’t need to do everything,” her dad said.
She turned to him briefly with an irritated expression. One that said, by all means, you do whatever you want. But it stopped as quickly as it started. After her expression returned to neutral, she began to unload the dishwasher. Harry wanted to keep a mental list of things to mention to her while he was here. The first being the look she gave her dad.
“Why are you making cupcakes?” Her mom asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” she sighed in frustration. “The winter carnival is expecting them or something...” she rolled her eyes. To her sister’s defense, she used to always make them when she was in high school. A “secret” recipe of hers (even if it was by all accounts a pretty standard cupcake recipe). But it had been talked about since she graduated. She made them for her brother and every year someone’s sibling of someone she knew from high school knew her and would ask.
Unlike her sister, everyone else had the courtesy to ask months in advance. Not a week like Emma. “I thought you knew!” She had exclaimed when she told her about it. “You always make them!”
“You didn’t ask!”
“I didn’t know I had to!” Emma was nearly hyperventilating on the phone thinking that she wasn’t going to make them because she had waited too long. But that was too much to explain to her mom. It was expected of her, and she should have known that she needed to make cupcakes. How could she not?
Harry was chatting with her father. Inquiring about how they had met and so forth. If Harry was into sports or if he liked fishing. She hoped Harry wouldn’t let it slip why she moved. “We haven’t seen her new place,” her dad admitted.
“S’nice. Y’should come by. We’ll make y’a delicious dinner too at the restaurant,” Harry promised.
She continued glancing over while the dishes were put in the correct cabinet, and she reloaded items from the sink to the machine. “Why don’t you make her do things, Mom?” She asked tiredly. Emma was inserting herself into the conversation with Harry and her dad. Her mom helped by clearing off the counters as quickly as possible.
She shrugged. “You know how Emma is,” she said.
“Kick her out,” she knew it was dramatic, but maybe even a threat would be helpful.
“Sweetie,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know that’s not how I operate. I could never kick out the three of you.” Plus, if she did kick her out, she would end up right at her doorstep. Right outside Dolcezza. “Who’s Harry? He’s cute,” she smiled excitedly.
Shaking her head, she sighed. “Harry’s a friend.”
“A cute friend,” she whispered peeking over at him still chatting with her father and sister.
Her face warmed and she shook her head. “Stop.”
“Don’t know many boys who would drive them home to their crazy family and spend the day baking and running errands.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Once the kitchen was mostly cleared, she was certain her dad loved Harry. To be fair, it was pretty easy to fall in love with him. She had done it about a thousand times. Emma was starstruck. She eyed his tattoos and his muscular arms. Harry had the best smile and the nicest eyes. Emma was going to be a giggly mess.
“Alright, I made shepherd’s pie for when you finish baking and before you go see James. What did he say he needed that you had to come?” Her mom asked.
Harry turned his attention back, wondering as well. She hadn’t said anything about the reason for her brother and added it to the list in his mind for when they headed to his off-campus apartment. “Just haven’t seen him in a while,” she shrugged.
“Probably needs money,” Emma snorted.
Her mom looked at her. “Sweetheart, don’t you dare give your brother money.”
She rolled her eyes. “Better me than you,” she mumbled.
Harry was starting to understand why this was going to be a long day.
*
Everyone left the kitchen and she got to work getting bowls, preheating the oven and all the other things she needed in a flurry of activity.
“M’not much of a baker, kitten. S’gonna have t’be all you. But m’really good at taking direction,” he promised with a smile. “Jus’ tell me what t’do.”
It was the cutest thing ever to see her put an apron on that was decorated with flowers on the print. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and twisted her hair back out of her face. She was adorable. “You’re sure?” She asked.
“S’all you, Principessa.”
“Okay, I just work really quick because I have to do other things so—”
“Okay,” he interrupted with a nod and a deeper smile. One that made the dimple in his cheek poke through. It poked right through her heart. “S’fine. I can do that,” he assured her with a head nod.
“Thank you, Harry,” she said gratefully.
“Course, kitten. M’happy t’help you. You’ve been helping so much in the kitchen. S’least I can do,” he squeezed her upper arm as he gazed at her hoping she would just see how much Harry liked her. They worked quickly, stirring all kinds of batter. They were making three different cupcakes: chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet. Her recipe was easy to follow. He liked her extra touches that made it her own and he thought that he would have to tell Antonio to hire her full time just to make cupcakes. “How come y’not a baker?” Harry was pulling the cupcakes out of the tins so he could place more paper cupcake holders to dole out more batter. He lined the cupcakes on every available surface. He insisted on this job since as he kept telling her, his fingertips were immune to the hot temperatures of the cupcakes right out of the oven.
“It’s a nice little hobby,” she smiled. “I don’t think I have enough good stuff just to open a little shop and sell cupcakes.”
“Would y’want to?” He wondered.
She shook her head. “No...I like my job. I’m good at it.”
“M’sure you are jus’ good at everything y’do, kitten,” he chuckled.
She smiled and put her hand on Harry’s arm as she walked behind him. In between rounds of trays going in and out of the oven, she was working on the pile of dishes and the dishwasher. It was almost done, and he was impressed (but not surprised) by how efficiently she worked. They chatted more about her job—she was a finance manager for a big company in the city near Dolcezza. She enjoyed it; her coworkers were nice, and people valued her skill. Not that that surprised Harry in the slightest. She found it nice to work from home as long as she maintained specific working hours.
“That was the hardest adjustment about working at home. I was worried I would just work all the time.” He nodded understandingly enjoying the passion she had for everything she did. “I think maybe if I wasn’t doing this, I would want to teach people about finance,” she shrugged.
“Y’would teach bratty teenagers?” Harry asked in surprise with a smile.
“I’m pretty good with them,” she winked and jutted her chin toward the empty hallway coming off the kitchen indicating Emma, of course. Harry laughed and shook his head at her.
After more chit chat, there were about 130 cupcakes cooling and waiting to be frosted after a while. “Do you mind helping with the lights?” She asked quietly. The last batch of cupcakes just went in, and all the cleaning was almost done.
Harry turned to see her pink cheeks. It was hard for her to ask for help, Harry could see that. But it was really exciting for him to hear her ask. It was a huge step. Even if it was already implied that he would help her with whatever. “Course, Principessa,” he smiled. “M’happy to.”
“This has to be the worst day off in the history of the world for you.”
“I don’t know. Cupcakes and a pretty girl?” She dropped her gaze to the sink and Harry smiled at her shyness. “S’better than me jus’ sleeping the day away,” he smiled.
“Don’t you have... a date or something?” She wondered, looking as far away from Harry’s face as possible. She didn’t want to catch his expression in her peripheral. “It’s Friday. I imagine you only get a Friday off once in a while.”
He smirked with a shake of his head. She was oblivious.
Or maybe she just didn’t want to see it because of who she was. Harry adored her and that probably scared some part of her, even he could recognize that. “It rotates,” he agreed. “But... no. M’not really interested in dating anyone,” he told her.
“No?” She frowned before she could stop herself. Immediately, she regretted saying it. But was desperate to know the answer.
His heart sped. He wondered if the strong, rhythmic beating would break one of his ribs. Closing the oven, he turned to see her still working on the dishes. But after a near silent moment, he stopped her movements, grabbed her by the wrists and turned her around from the sink. Her hands dripped water on the floor, and he shifted her so that her back was to the counter. His hands pressed on either side of her hips against it, and he put a breath of space between them. “I’d make an exception for you,” he promised and scanned her face. Her eyelashes fluttered and she swallowed hard.
“Yeah?” She whispered.
“Always, Principessa,” he murmured and dropped his gaze to her lips.
Her brain got the better of her again, making her mouth speak before she could comprehend what she was about to say. Her breath was airy, her mind spinning with the scent of vanilla cupcakes and Harry’s shampoo filling her nose as he leaned toward her. “You’re really going to kiss me in my parents’ house? When it’s crazy, and I’m crazy, and they’re—”
Harry chuckled, bringing a hand to the side of her face, and brushing his thumb against her cheek. As hard as his heart was beating, it felt so suddenly slow. Like this was normal and what he was supposed to do. It didn’t need a crazy heartbeat. It was simply what he was supposed to do. He glanced briefly around to see if her family was nearby—he wouldn’t want to intentionally embarrass her. “Yeah, kitten. Guess I am,” he shrugged and leaned the final distance to press his lips solidly between hers.
The moment his lips touched her, she felt her knees soften. Like she was going to fall over. All the blood in her body rushed from her extremities to her heart. It made her feel weak all over. His lips were so soft, like little down pillows. They weren’t chapped at all like she thought they’d be. Her whole body felt a rush of warmth, like the oven was open and brushing hot air over her. Her lashes fluttered, making her eyes close and she wished she dried her hands because she wanted to hold onto him, but didn’t want to get his shirt wet when he had nothing else to wear.
She sighed deeply. It was so sweet. It made his chest ache with want; he wanted to be closer. Wanted to kiss her longer. Wanted to wrap her in his arms and never ever let her go. Harry had never kissed anyone that had sighed so softly like that while kissing him. It was so very her and it made him feel like he was going to melt into the floor. Her lips tasted like chocolate from when she tested the batter. His hand kept hold of the side of her face while he nipped and pecked at her lips. The other pressed against the counter, the length of his body pressed to hers, the only two things keeping him upright and not bringing them down to the kitchen floor.
He released her lips after a moment causing a beautiful breathy sigh to leave her lips. His gaze was so intense she felt it in her stomach. It couldn’t have been more than forty-five seconds of kissing, but he would have taken an hour, and it wouldn’t have been enough. She wiped a hand on her apron and then brought it to her mouth to touch her tingly lips.
Harry’s breath was a little shallow and she was grateful he sounded a little worse for wear only because she was worried, she was going to pass out right in the middle of the kitchen. “Thanks,” she whispered.
He chuckled, shaking his head. That was very much a her thing to say at a time like this. It made his stomach flutter with excitement. “Pleasure was all mine, Principessa,” he mumbled pressing a kiss to her forehead and gently squeezing the side of her face as he held her cheek.
They stood for a moment staring at each other like they had never seen each other before. As awful as her day was, and as frustrated as her family could make her feel, this was infinitely better than what she thought it would be.
“We should... take care of the lights,” she whispered. Not that she wanted to, but kissing Harry with three quarters of her family one room away did not seem ideal.
He nodded. “Okay,” he released her cheek making her regret her choice because she felt utterly cold. She shivered and Harry sighed as he stepped away from her. Right as she turned back for the sink, the water still running, Harry caught her wrist again and pulled her so quickly to him her heart skipped a beat. “One more,” he mumbled and brought their mouths back together just as quick as he pulled her toward him, she hardly had time to react. His tongue gently tracing the length of her lip making her sigh again and he thought he would surely explode from how much he liked her.
*
“Where are the boxes?” She asked as she put her coat on. Harry pulled her hair from getting trapped and smoothed it softly on the back of her jacket. He found about a hundred excuses to touch her in the last half hour while they waited for the cupcakes to finish and for her to finish cleaning. The kitchen looked better now that she had been in there.
“In the attic,” her sister said looking up from her phone briefly. She sighed, frustrated that her siblings hadn’t even gotten the boxes down last week. Harry followed her upstairs. In the little hall between all the doors leading to what he assumed were bedrooms and at least one bathroom, was the ceiling door for the attic.
She pulled the cord to bring down the ladder, the hinges of the door groaning.
“Sweetie, wait!” Her mom shouted suddenly. Harry yanked her so hard around her waist as the door opened widely. He pulled her back toward the empty half of the hallway, causing them to fall in a heap right as the ladder half fell, dangling, unhinged to half of the frame of the opening. She would have gotten a serious smack to the face had Harry not pulled her out of the way. She felt so warm in his arms. Even if her falling on top of him with her full weight could not have felt good. She could feel her face burning in embarrassment.
“Emma, are you fucking serious?!” She screamed. She scrambled to get to her feet. She helped Harry back to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked nervously, her eyes looking him over quickly and her mom had reached the top of the steps. Her eyebrows pinched together. She looked so emotionally hurt. The poor thing.
Harry shook his head looking at the ladder and then at her, still worried she hurt herself. He definitely yanked her really hard, and he did his best to take the brunt of the fall, but that couldn’t have felt good. “M’fine, Principessa, are you alri—”
“How is that my fault?!” Emma shouted.
“You knew it was broken and didn’t tell me?!” She hurried down half the steps to yell at her sister.
“Harry, I’m so sorry,” her mother said.
“It’s okay. We’re alri—”
“Is that why you two didn’t do the decorations?” She was seething. From the top of the steps Harry could see her shoulders heaving with each breath. “Are you serious?”
“What?!”
“The ladder almost hit Harry and I!”
“Kitten,” he started down the couple steps and he touched her shoulder gently.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her mom asked.
“I was going to fix it tomorrow,” her dad called from another room.
“I’m fine, I promise,” Harry smiled gently at her mother wondering how she could be ignoring the screaming match.
“Why are you even dealing with the decorations, you came to bake cupcakes!”
“Emma you’re being a selfish brat, not once did you say thank you—”
“Principessa,” Harry’s voice was low, and he moved his hand to her lower back.
“You always make cupcakes!”
“—you do nothing but make messes that Mom has to clean up you could have at least put the decorations away!”
The screaming was reaching levels Harry hadn’t heard before. Especially not from his sweet, pretty angel. He worried about how her throat would feel from yelling so loud and of course the anger that was rippling through her made him worry she would shake so much she would fall down the steps.
“Sweetie,” her mom said pushing past Harry very gently. “It’s okay—”
“Mom, it’s not okay. She is a lazy, spoiled brat and you don’t—”
“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you get to come over and act like you run everything! You act so high and mighty! We’ve been fine without you living here and bossing all of us around. Can’t you just relax for two seconds and stop being a bitch?!” Emma did not once get up to look at her sister during this conversation.
She finally stopped. Her breathing no longer heaving, she stopped shaking. She flexed her jaw. “The cupcakes need to cool. We’re going to see James and I’ll be back to frost them when we get back,” she snapped and headed down the steps.
“Sweetie,” her mom said softly.
“Dad,” she called stiffly.
Harry followed as quickly as he could.
“Yeah?” His voice was quiet.
“Can you bring the ladder inside that will reach the attic while I’m gone?” She asked.
“Sure thing, sweetie,” he promised.
She walked right out the door and closed it behind her.
“I am so sorry, Harry,” her mom whispered.
“It’s alright. M’gonna make sure she’s alright. I have a sister,” he said encouragingly with a gentle smile. “I get it,” he shrugged. “We’ll be back,” he promised following after her.
*
They drove in silence to her brother’s apartment. Harry reached over and placed his hand on the top of her thigh, but she didn’t hold it the way she had when he drove earlier. She stared out the window the whole time. There wasn’t a word of discussion. Harry didn’t speak, he didn’t play music, just gently moved his index finger back and forth, trying to soothe her as much as possible from the small movement.
James was a half hour away from their house and when there was only ten minutes left of the drive, Harry cleared his throat. “That wasn’t nice of your sister,” he whispered.
“Can we do this later?” She answered.
He frowned. “Principessa.”
“Look, it was really bad and I’m so embarrassed that you saw that and heard that. I’m sad you gave up your day off to deal with my insane family. I feel bad you’re stuck with me for the remainder of the day so I would rather just have you tell me to leave you alone when we’re on the way home—”
Shaking his head quickly, Harry thought about pulling over because surely they had entered an alternate dimension. “Kitten, what on earth are y’talking about?”
“I don’t want to do this, Harry. I’m so close to crying, it’s not even funny.”
He was quiet for a full minute. “Y’don’t have t’be embarrassed around me, Principessa. M’not going anywhere. The only reason I wish we were on our way home is so I could walk y’upstairs and kiss y’outside your door for a lot longer than we did,” he squeezed her thigh gently.
Another silent minute. They were five minutes from James’ place. “Really?” She whispered.
He glanced at her. He could see her teary gaze. The one that broke his heart when she wasn’t feeling well. It broke his heart all over again. “Really, kitten,” he promised. “We can talk ‘bout it later. But y’family doesn’t make me like y’any less. Other than worrying ‘bout you, m’having a lot of fun,” he promised. “Got a new cupcake recipe, got to see cute baby pictures of you, and got to kiss you. So...this is pretty much the best day off I’ve had in years.”
Her heart felt splintered and broken by her sister’s mean words. She was certain Harry would hate her and wouldn’t want anything to do with her. “You still want to kiss me?” She asked.
“Always, Principessa,” he nodded. “I’d ‘ve kissed you the whole way here if it were possible,” he assured her.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I’d like that,” she admitted.
He chuckled, smiling happier than he felt the last twenty-eight minutes worrying about her. “I really, like you Principessa,” she turned that pretty pink that Harry liked so much. He could see it in his peripheral. “I don’t think you’re bossy or mean. I think you are the kindest, most caring person ‘ve ever met,” he put his car in park outside the apartment building the GPS directed him to. He cupped her face again and kissed her forehead. It felt perfect. Like Harry had kissed her a hundred times before. He peered into her eyes with the same look he had right before he kissed her in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry. I think... we have to wait,” she whispered her breath catching in her throat. She felt dizzy with his breath filling her senses. He frowned.
“Don’t want to kiss?” he asked worried she was still going to push him away.
“No... no...” she shook her head her breath uneven. “I do. I very much do. But I won’t...” she sighed nodding quickly. “I won’t want to stop. And I—”
Harry chuckled dropping his lips to press a line of kisses from one cheek to the other over the bridge of her nose. “S’okay, kitten. I’ve waited nearly nine months t’kiss you. Can wait a few more hours,” he promised.
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lilykatelyn-blog · 9 months
Note
making out with txt?
ooh!! I’ve been wanting to do a txt fic!! Thank you so much anon!
ꨄMAKING OUT WITH TXTꨄ
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pairing: ot5!txt x reader
genre: suggestive? Not rlly for hyuka’s part
warnings: grinding (hyuka’s), kissing (duh), I don’t rlly know, tell me if I’ve missed any!
notes: I didn’t really proof read this, lemme know if you want me to redo it anon!
SEND IN A REQUEST
MINORS DNI
❤︎Yeonjun❤︎ - making out with Yeonjun is passionate, but god this man is such a tease. Sometimes, he’ll just randomly pull away and go back to doing whatever he was doing before, reading a book, watching tv, making dinner/lunch, cleaning, anything. He makes you beg for it, but then again, he’s like one of the best kissers ever, so it’s worth it in the end.
❤︎Soobin❤︎ - Soobin, the sweetest little person. So nice and sweet. His make out sessions are so sweet. His hands will always rest on your waist, nape, or ass, you cannot tell me otherwise. He loves tongue, so don’t be shy 🙈. I can’t see him having a rough make out session honestly, I feel he’s too sweet. But when he’s jealous, ooohhhh, then you get a rough make out session.
❤︎Beomgyu❤︎ - Another tease here. He loves to make you whine into the kiss. He’s so mean to you but it’s all worth it in the end, bc this is another wonderful kisser. He’s phenomenal at it and always makes you dizzy when he pulls away. Has to have you on his lap, no buts. Loves when you tug at his hair, that’s the most effective way to get him to moan in your mouth.
❤︎Taehyun❤︎ - loves, loves, loves your nails pressing into his bicep, gives him another reason to work out. Usually just randomly grabs your chin and brings your head up to him, then kisses your with a lot of fervor. I also have the feeling he is another one to enjoy hair pulling. Also loves you on his lap, bc most of the time it leads to something else 👀
❤︎Huening Kai❤︎ - Cute baby, he’s so shy. you’re always the first to initiate it, but when you do, it’s a blessing. He’s got the softest kisses, not to mention those lips 😩 so kissable. He’s always blushing so hard when you two pull away, +bonus blush points if there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips. I love him, he’s defo the softest kisser in the group. Loves it when you grind on him softly. Loves kissing you, finds it comforting, but finds you super sexy. (As he should you wonderful human being)
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aphroditelovesu · 7 months
Note
I have another TLQ request for you, but only if you want to do it!
I want to request a oneshot or reaction blurb where Reader meets Bucephalus. I used to do some horseback riding, and all my horse books always mentioned him. I always loved the story about how he was frightened of his own shadow and how a young Alexander helped him overcome it by directing him towards the sun😭. Honestly, I would be freaking out just as much (if not more) about meeting Bucephalus as I would be about meeting Alexander.
As a bonus, maybe he (Bucephalus) actually likes our girl and even let's her sit on him and maybe ride him a little? Some sources claim that he only let alexander ride him. The fact that he lets reader do it too could encourage Alexander's infatuation with her. It would also be an interesting story for historians. However, I'll leave the details up to you.
Thanks again! 💞😊
--O-
❝ 📜— lady l: I'm not sure if it turned out good, but... It's what I managed to do with the little time I have, I hope you like it anyway and feel free to give me your opinion! Good reading and sorry for any mistakes! ❤️
❝tw: none, just fluffly and soft yan!Alexander.
❝📜 word count: 1,185.
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The place where they kept the horses was, to say the least, disgusting. You couldn't judge, not much, considering where you were, but still they could have been a little more careful with the poor horses.
This irritated you and it wasn't a small matter. You should have a serious talk with Alexander later.
You looked around, making sure no one was around. Knowing that all the servants and slaves, by god how you hated this part, were busy as the camp would soon move again, you decided to try your luck and take a horse for a ride.
You felt like a criminal, and in a way, you were.
Although all you wished was to be able to ride a little. There wasn't much to do in the camp at the moment, Alexander and the others were busy in war councils and you found yourself bored. Wanting a little action and no bloodshed, preferably.
Sighing loudly, you looked at the available horses. There weren't many, just those mounted by the cavalry and the generals and the King.
Okay, maybe there were several.
You weren't picky, anyone would do. Your goal was simple; take a horse, sneak it out of camp, that was the hard part, ride it for a bit and then give it back. It couldn't be that difficult, could it?
You looked at the horses who ignored you. Everyone was interested in their food.
All but one.
You smirked when you saw that a black horse, a stallion, you noticed, was the only one who didn't ignore you. Instead, he looked back at you as if challenging you.
He was daring you to get closer to him, to ride him.
Your heart skipped a beat, you knew who that horse was.
Bucephalus.
The legendary horse of Alexander the Great.
''Hey...'' You whispered the words, not sure what to do.
You always liked animals and you couldn't deny that you had an affection for horses and look where you were. Head-on with one of the most famous horses in history. How should you react? No, doing so was beyond your comprehension, but then again, everything that had happened in your life in the last few weeks was beyond comprehension. So finding Bucephalus was normal, even.
At least it wasn't Incitatus, you were grateful for it.
Bucephalus whinnied at you, still looking at you with those deep black eyes. They reminded you of someone.
''Eh... Mister Bucephalus?'' As soon as the words left your mouth you scoffed at yourself. Really? By god, (Y/N), what is wrong with you? It's just a horse.
Except it wasn't just a horse. It was the horse.
You looked at her in wonder. He was magnificent, his fine black fur, his physical size and intense black eyes were beautiful. You dare say he was the most beautiful stallion you had ever seen in your entire life.
Absolutely wonderful.
''You're amazing, aren't you?'' You approached unconsciously and brought your right hand to his snout, stroking it slowly and gently. Bucephalus didn't back away but he didn't make a sound, he just stared at you.
With courage drawn from God only knows where, you decided on a more direct approach. ''Do you mind if I... Ride you?''
It probably wasn't what you should have done but there were no witnesses at the time, right?
Bucephalus whinnied in response, although you didn't understand if it was a yes or a no. You bit your lower lip and guided him out of the place where he was being kept.
You were either very brave or very stupid. Or maybe you were both.
You saw that he was still wearing a saddle, which meant that Alexander had ridden him earlier and hadn't had it removed. You almost cursed him for it out loud, almost.
''Where do you think you're going with my horse?'' You jumped up and your spine froze when you heard the voice that had been disturbing you for weeks.
Fuck.
You turned to look at Alexander. You gave a humorless laugh, ''I... Well, you see...''
He crossed his arms and glared at you.
''Alright. You see, I was bored and wanted to ride a little.''
''With Bucephalus?''
You decided to play dumb, ''Bucephalus? Oh, I didn't know it was him...''
''You didn't know?'' He said very slowly and you knew you had been caught. But to your confusion and relief, he started laughing.
You looked at him confused and he stopped laughing but kept smiling.
''You lie better than that.''
He was right. Even a child would lie better than you had lied now.
''Sorry.'' You mumbled softly. Alexander approached you and touched your face gently, you looked at him and blushed when you saw the way he looked at you.
With adoration and love. Just like he had looked at you at the wedding and on your wedding night. You blushed a little as you remembered the last part.
He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, ''There's nothing to be sorry for.'' He whispered and you felt your body heat up a little. By the gods, what had this man done to you?
Alexander pulled away a little, ''Did you say you wanted to ride for a bit?'' You nodded. He smiled, ''Ride with me.''
You blinked in surprise.
''Are you sure?''
Alexander nodded.
''Alright then.'' You took a deep breath and watched Alexander guide Bucephalus out. You can't help but notice the bond they had, Alexander's affectionate and even protective way with Bucephalus. The whispers that Alexander whispered to his horse and the caresses.
You followed them and stopped in front of Bucephalus.
''Mount him first, let's see if Bucephalus will let you mount him.'' Alexander said, still stroking his stallion's head.
You nodded and tried to mount Bucephalus. To your surprise, he didn't try to move or run away, he just stayed still while you climbed onto his back.
''Try to guide him a little.''
You took the reins and kicked it very lightly in the side and Bucephalus began to move forward. You smiled and didn't notice Alexander's smile as he walked behind you and Bucephalus.
This was truly incredible, he thought, the fact that Bucephalus let you ride him proved that you were indeed perfect for him.
Alexander watched with satisfaction as you rode Bucephalus, looking quite pleased with yourself. It made him happy, seeing you so happy. He had gotten the feeling that you were sad these past few weeks and that didn't sit well with him.
You should be happy.
He would deal with it later. There was nothing he wouldn't do for you, he realized that very quickly. Alexander loved you so much that he would be willing to give up on conquering the Persian Empire if you asked him to.
You were his greatest weakness and his greatest strength.
You truly were his perfect Queen. And Alexander will be damned if he lets you go. You would never leave him, he will make sure of that.
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polyamorousmood · 11 months
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Hey! Sorry to bother, but I was wondering if you can recommend any books with or about polyamorous relationships? I know there are some shows and movies that include polyamory, but as I'm more of a reader recently, I'd love to read something with at least a mention of such relationships, and good recs are hard to find.
I'm mostly interested in fiction, but if you have any non-fiction you think people curious about the topic should read, that'd be great too.
Again, sorry to bother you, but I've been thinking about it for a while and decided to shoot my shot. Thanks in advance for the response!
Unfortunately, I've not been able to read as much lately as I would like so I don't have many recommendations personally. I've heard of a few, but I'd hate to suggest something that ended up being... not very good 🫤
The only one I can vouch for is @thebibliosphere 's Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites 🧛which if somehow you haven't heard about before now, is a poly paranormal romance novel. The book spends most of its time on the relationship blossoming, so there's not quite as much with all three as I had hoped, but I'm pretty sure sequels are in the works! And I really liked what was there! Its not a bad thing to finish a novel and be left wanting more 😉The author is also super cool, making smutty and fluffy versions of the same book and writing free fanfic of her own work. Seriously, she's one to support.
Anyone else who has more to add, please do!! 📙📚📖I'll keep an eye on the notes and reblog some additions. Maybe the promise of good poly content will actually get me motivated to start reading again 😅
P.S. Please do not feel the need to apologize for sending in asks! I love hearing from others! 😍 Please keep asking things!!
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noskipnotability · 1 month
Text
Hidden in the Papers
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Prof!Alex x Prof!Reader
Summary: Headcannons and a drabble of you and (the Car era) Alex being married and professors
A/N: I thought this would be cute after I saw all the stud!reader and prof!alex one shots on here. I might do a part two of these or a full thing, who knows
Alex teaches English classes and you history, so you’re in the same building.
He is constantly walking in on your lectures just to watch you teach. Or leaving something in your room/bag so he has an excuse to see you. 
You are everyone’s favourite professors and most of your students come to you two for help or advice. 
Somehow, you both managed to convince the university to let you co-teach classes and those are your favourite lectures. They also happen to have the most enrollments, many students disappointed when they don’t make it in. 
After school, one of you will sneak into the other’s room while their grading. 
Alex’s arms wrap around you from behind and he presses sweet kisses to your neck, his lips leaving a missing sensation with each move. You sigh at the warm feeling spreading through you and lean back to place a kiss on his lips. 
Your neck had been killing you from where you hunched over while grading the papers your students had handed in. It was a common pain you and Alex both shared during those nights you would spend working late. But, you both made the agreement to find relief in the other when you exchanged rings on that fateful day. 
His nose now pressed into your shoulder where he snuggled into you, his foot reaching out to pull over the extra chair just for him, much like the one he kept for you. He hummed, lifting his head and resting his chin atop your shoulder, “How are the papers?”
His voice was low with a slight rasp from the tiring day of lecturing. He could feel his eyes shutting and sleep overcome him simply by being in your presence. You turned your head, your face less than an inch from the side of his, “Better than last time. I think Lars really liked going over Marx the other day, he has a real passion for governments. It really comes through in his writing, you should recommend him some books, hun.”
With his eyes shut and long lashes laying above his cheeks, he smirks, “Your kids are killing me with these recommendations, I only have so many books to give their way,” he chuckles. He wraps his arms from around your shoulder to your left arm that rested on your chair. He holds on tightly as he fights off his exhaustion, you struggling to fight your own. 
It was almost eight and you had both yet to leave the school, Alex had thankfully finished with his own work early and that only left your last two papers before you left. It wasn’t the smartest idea to dim the lights of your classroom because they only lolled you to falling asleep. You lean back and Alex lays his head onto your chest as best he could in the chairs. His hair brushes against the bottom of your chin and he places a light kiss on your collarbone. The want to fall into unconsciousness for the night beside your husband grows stronger with each second that passes. 
Alex’s sweater feels like clouds and his body heats warms you in the otherwise freezing room. No matter how hard you tried, nobody could make it the right temperature and it was always too hot or too cold. It wouldn’t be the first time the two of you fell asleep in class, only to be awoken to your students piling in for a lecture or security doing the rounds at night. And it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. 
The old man’s (I say lovingly) eyesight had gotten worse over time and he started stealing your reading glasses whenever he had to work or read. When you first saw him wearing them while reading in bed, you melted at the image of small hairs falling over the frames. Not to mention how good his arms looked cuddled up under the blankets. The lamp’s light cast an orange on his face that matched the sweetness he exuded. 
When he looked up and caught you staring at him, he went all wide-eyed and his soft lips parted in surprise. He rushed out some excuse but you just dismissed him as you crawled up the bed into his lap, placing a long and passionate kiss onto those lips. You whispered something about taking him to an eye exam so he wouldn’t butcher his sight even more using the wrong prescription. 
On top of walking in on your classes randomly he will occasionally show up with lunch and you would both sit on a rug you kept in your class as some sort of indoors picnic. There have been many times where someone would walk in with a question on the work or for whatever reason and you guys would have to try and explain what was going on. 
You shared office hours, of course, and would trade off who you would help. Sometimes you helping his students and him yours, as you both shared love for the others subjects and both have had to endure long rants about niche topics. 
All in all, it’s very cute and he is so in love.
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masturbucky · 1 year
Text
The Intruder
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DARK!Winter Soldier x fem!reader
Summary: You had issues with sleeping for the past two weeks. You wake up every night and you swear you can feel someone's staring from the shadows, but there's no one, and you know it's your imagination. Sometimes you feel touches. When you're tired of your mind tricks, you start taking those sleeping pills. It's good for you, and for the man who watches your sleep every night, too. But you dont need to know that. You need to sleep.
WARNINGS: DARK REALLY DARK PLEASE BE AWARE(!!!), Smut, Somnophilia, NON-CONSENSUAL EVERYTHING, AGAIN IT'S A FUCKING RAPE, Obsessive behavior, unprotected p in v, WS basically romanticizes from his sick point what he does to you, no y/n, literally NO comfort, creampie, marking, a bit of knife play(he tears your shirt off and touches you with a knife a bit), a lot of mentions of death by WS, choke kink if you squint, dacryphilia if you squint, what else? ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE! Also I kinda forgot to post it when I finished it and so i remembered only like an hour ago, changed some stuff a bit, but grammar errors are still on the table yk. Also, YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. I'M NOT YOUR DADDY I CAN'T TELL YOU SHIT, I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A MINOR, IT'S YOUR PROBLEM.
You sigh, dropping your bag on the couch while slipping out of your shoes on the way to the kitchen. It's a living hell, you think.
Two fucking weeks you can't sleep. You wake up every night, a several times at least, with a fucking panic attack, or in a sleep paralysis, or whatever the fuck it is — you don't know, you don't care, you just want it to stop.
The thing is, you're going insane.
Every night the reason you wake up is this feeling of someone's eyes on you. Someone's staring at you, from the shadowed corner of your room, every night and it doesn't stop. At first you weren't brave enough to look. On the thrid night you said fuck it and turned the light on, looking around. No one, nothing, no trace of anyone's presence. The fuck you expected to see? The windows were closed, same goes to the door — you checked, three times and one more to be sure — and you were honestly confused and tired enough to get back to sleep. Only for the same thing to happen the following night. And the next one. And again, and again, and again.
You changed locks. Better safe than sorry, you know?
It didn't helped. You still feel watched every night.
Sometimes YOU SWEAR you could feel lingering touches on your body. Cold or warm.
Again, you're going insane.
You bought a fucking camera and installed it in your bedroom under the ceiling just to find your sleepy self and your scared to hell awake self, walking around and searching for the fucking intruder, on it in the morning.
You tried to invite your friends over for the night, but — what am I, a fucking joke? — they all laughed at you, when you told your story. Fuck them, really, you should consider searching for new friends.
You decided to go to the therapist your friend (the only one who, thankfully, didn't laughed with the rest, but still brushed you off) recommended you. The point is, you'll have to wait a month to get an appointment in their busy schedule. You ain't gonna wait so long, you need to sleep for fuck's sake.
That's being said, here you are. Reading an instruction list to Flurazepam, which is like a fucking blanket itself, and grinning like an idiot, excited. Fuck your brain really, fuck it's dumb imagination, fuck the imaginary intruder! You need your sleep and you'll get your sleep, thanks to medicine!
Tonight you eat, shower, read your evening book and get to bed happily, excited to finally get some sleep. Maybe you take a bit more Flurazepam than needed. Just in case, you know?
***
He entered your apartment the same way as always - it wasn't hard to steal your keys and make a copy. He's used to be unnoticed, they would've been disappointed if he was careless enough to let you know about his mere existence. So far, you're stupid enough not to look into details. Smart enough to try and change locks and install a camera, smart enough to show him that you're safe from everyone, but him.
He stops the recording of this damn camera before walking into your room. He solved this problem the first night you installed it. It's a nice kind of change, he must admit. Seeing you from different angle other than from cameras he installed before is nice, truly. Beautiful, clever and caring about his... needs, even without knowing about him. That's what makes you so divine.
Tonight... To be honest, he was waiting for this just as much as you. He was excited, even. For your sleep and his next move in your relationship, if he could call it that.
He takes his mask and glasses off, walking closer to your bed, to your sleeping, relaxed. Asleep, more calm than usual. Just like the first night. Your breath is soft, heartrate is slow, the pills you took obviously worked. You probably took a bit more than you should have, his dumb little thing you are.
He doesn't know how it all happened, to be honest.
What he knows is, he needs you. Badly. All the time, day and night, needs to see your beauty and he needs to be close to something as perfect as you. He thought they wiped everything that could've been even close to what he feels towards you, but apparently they only made it worse.
More likely they know where he disappears every night to. They know everything, and he noticed how much easier it became to sneak out. And if they know and let it be, then he's allowed to have this. Which probably gives them even more power over him.
But he doesn't care. As long as he can see his angel, as long as he can touch something as perfect as you are, he doesn't give a fuck about what else Hydra would make him do. Consider it done. Consider it dead.
He takes his gloves off, kneeling down beside your bed. Slides your blanket off your body, and takes a deep breath. You're in your usual clothes of choice — this tempting shirt, which he often can see your nipples through, which he allows himself to touch sometimes even, and a comfy pair of underwear. He doesn't know what other men usually consider sexy, but for him it is whatever you wear. Especially this pair of panties.
Brings his hand to your thigh, more confidently than usual strokes the smooth skin up, touching the soft material of your underwear and sliding under the warmth of your shirt, to your belly. He doesn't need to be careful now. You won't wake up anyway, you're too deep in your slumber, thanks to those pills.
He almost groans only at the feeling of your soft, warm skin under his fingertips. It's not often when he touches you UNDER your clothes. Too much of a risk, he never intended to wake you up. It would mean a too big step, he doesn't need you to put up a fight and resist too much. If so, he would have to hurt you. And take you away. He's not ready to do that just yet.
But now? Now he can at least do that much without rushing things into it's natural ending. He could have you now, he could taste you now, and then he would prepare to take you somewhere where he would do that as often as possible. He just has to be patient.
For now he could just leave you a message of who you belong to. A promise, of sorts.
The bed cracked under his weight loudly, thanks god you're so deep in your sleep, and the blade shines in the moonlight, so does the hand, the whole arm. Soldier knows that what he's about to do will break you. But a broken angel is still an angel, a fallen one is not.
However, he's very clear with his messages.
Your shirt goes first. The material breaks easily on a sharp knife, he uses it to kill after all, and he's devouring every second of it. He prays that it wont be possible to erase from his mind, just like it was with you, with his angel.
"Beautiful," He breathes out, his voice hoarse and his throat hurts. He hasn't talked in quite some time.
Your shirt is no longer on his way. And oh god, seeing your chest again makes him believe in heaven, whatever this is. When you'll be his, you won't be wearing any clothes at all. It will be his personal heaven.
"So beautiful..." He lowers the knife to your chest, tracing soft skin, nipples with the backside of it. He could so easily switch the side, he could leave a permanent mark on you, a reminder of your first night as his, but he wont. Not now, at least.
Then he lowers the blade to your underwear. Two simple cuts on either sides - and it's just as dysfunctional as the shirt. But he doesn't think you'll need them anyway, now. He might as well just... Take them, as a little reminder for himself? A promise.
He lifts your pretty legs up, resting them on his shoulders when he settles in between, and slides the thorn material from under you with his flesh arm. He wants to feel this. He wants to savor every touch.
Your panties are left in the pocket of his pants, and he returns his full attention to you. Only if you knew how beautiful you are right now, naked for him, ready for him. He would show you, one day. When you would be conscious and used to him, his presence, his touches. For now, this will do.
The knife is back in it's holder, and he lowers to your warm body. Hands slide up your waist to your tits, and the left one to your neck. Metal fingers trace the warm, delicate skin, pressing ever so slightly. The only time he really focuses on how much pressure he adds. Looks just perfect on you.
He can't wait anymore.
Right hand slides off your body to lower his pants, just enough to free his almost uncomfortable erection. He was so mesmerized by your beauty that he completely forgot about himself.
Leans back slightly, once again admiring the view. His angel, so perfect and peaceful, in her sleep. Your calm face, delicate neck, chest, your belly, legs and, a fucking paradise, your pussy. He can't see much, but he knows its perfect. He had seen it, many times, on the cameras. He also knows what you play with, and where you hide it. Lower drawer of your nightstand.
Soldat leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses on your neck, tasting your skin. It's his time to enjoy, his moment to savor, so he slides his hand down to your exposed to him — only him — heat. You're wet, just a bit. Enough for him, at least. Touching you is a privilege already.
Your legs are pushed up, over his thighs. He doesn't know if he wants to hurry up or take his time, it feels like he needs both. Contradictions became natural to him since he found you.
A deep breath. He lined himself up with your entrance, stroking himself slowly, just a bit. Smearing his precum over your clit and soft folds, enjoying the moment. It's so strange to be so overwhelmed. So excited. You make him feel things he didn't knew he was able to feel, and you have no clue. You will, eventually.
He pushes in slowly, groaning and almost cumming right away, holding himself back and biting on your neck. He takes a second to remind himself about how to breathe. Unbelievable. You feel like death. The best feeling ever, the only good feeling.
When he's fully in, he thinks that calling it a heaven would've been an understatement. Your insides around him are so much more.
When he pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, that's where he could've die happily.
You're so warm. So tight, squeezing his manhood just right. It's where he belonged, it's where he feels complete and forgiven. Your walls hug his dick perfectly, and he want's to stay in there until he fades away. And he wants more.
He's greedy when he starts moving. In and out, slowly at first, but getting faster — yes, he's greedy. He's guilty in more than greed, he doesn't care. With your pussy taking him so well, with your warm body under his hands, his lips, just under him — he doesn't care. It's all his, you're his.
Oh how he wants to hear more than those sweet whimpers from you.
He can imagine. His angel, you, under him, hands gripping on his arms, you'll be begging him for more and crying for him, clamping down on him so deliciously and needy. You'll be screaming — screaming the name he can't quite imagine, he can't remember, but he knows you'll be screaming it. One day.
He will take his time to praise you, to tell you how good you are for him, angel, taking all he can give, giving all you have. He will make sure you're shaking and breaking all over again on his cock, tears smeared all over your face and you're drooling with this fucked out look on your divine face-
Oh god, more. He needs more of you, he takes all he can take.
He will leave so much marks on your body, just like now, over your chest and your neck, while you'll be squeezing him inside and begging, begging for his seed-
He cums with a groan, slurred fuck left his lips, headboard of your bed cracks under his metal hand. Aftershock hit the Soldat hard. Right hand gripping on your hip, his breath is ragged and he barely remembers how to breath correctly — he knows this feeling well, but from the bad side. Now? It's euphoric. He doesn't want it to end, he wants to die right here and there, buried deep inside of your heat, with you taking his cum so well, his beautiful angel.
He opens his eyes after what feels like a blissful eternity, his gaze slowly focuses on you under him. He can hear your breath, hard and ragged, he can see a layer of sweat over your body. Small smile cracks on his face. Even in your sleep, you accepted him. You enjoyed it.
He doesn't want to pull out, but he does so anyway. He reminds himself that it's not the last time. He'll have enough chances to do it again with you, after all. He knows what to do. He knows how. He just needs to prepare it.
Soldat looks down, mesmerized by how his seed leaks out of you. There's so much, he has to resist the urge to push it back in. Or to lick it out.
You're so perfect, his beautiful angel. But he has to go.
On a second thought...
He reaches out to your nightstand, barely even looking up from your pretty cunt, still leaking with his cum. Grabs his mask and glasses. Puts both on quickly, then grabs the remote control of your camera from his pocket, and presses on.
After all, he should be very clear with his messages.
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robin-the-enby · 8 months
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Black butler Ciel with a older sister who rather spend more time reading, writing, spend time in her imagination, or her own self interests than run the company. She has her own business of running a successful book series.
Pairing: Ciel Phantomhive x older sister!reader Warnings: mentions of past trauma (not descriptive) A/N: Thank you very much for the ask and, as usual, I'm so sorry for the delay. If you don't mind, I decided to write this as headcanons. Also, the relationship between Ciel and the reader is strictly platonic. I have decided that I will not write romantic Ciel works anymore, because he's a child. And while I did have a crush on him when we were the same age, I have moved on and it would be highly inappropriate, I believe.
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I think it's safe to say that you are very important to Ciel. You are his last living relative after all.
It doesn't matter if you're close or not. I don't think Ciel would appear to want to be close to anyone, even a relative. But that isn't really the case.
Now, he's definitely not clingy. He's self-sufficient, maybe a little too much. He definitelly doesn't need to rely on you.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't like to spend time with you. On the contrary. And since you are the quiet type, it makes spending time together much more comfortable for him.
He would be the type of person to do his own thing and let you do your own, just...in the same space. He could be sorting paperwork in his office, but you would be there as well, just a few meters away from him, scribbling down in a notebook on drawing in your sketchbook.
It's comfortable, it's quiet, and it means the world to him. If he looks past the age difference (and that little voice that tells him that maybe your roles should be exchanged), he almost feels normal. And that type of peace is very rare in his life, so he takes any and every chance to spend time with you like this.
It was very strange to him though, mostly at first, when he returned to the mansion. The way you are so different. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you have no interest in the family company, or that you rather spend time in your own head than in th real world.
He does get the appeal of that, it's just that he thinks it's...foolish. He is a logical person, who always thinks ahead, to rule out any possibility of others taking advantage of him again. If he submitted to the luxury of running away from the past that still haunts him, he would achieve nothing.
But the more time he spends with you and the more he integrates himself back into the regular world (as regular as it can be for him at least), he sees that you're many things, but not foolish. Yes, you're a dreamer, perhaps a bit naive, but not stupid.
In the end, he prouds himself to be your brother. You have a great imagination and sometimes you help him more than you could imagine. If he has a case to solve, you help give him an outside look into things from a perspective he could never even imagine.
He appreciates your art as well. It would depend on your style and whether or not you were spared the torture he went through to determine how much, but he definitely appreciates it and thinks it's beautiful. If your style is a form of self presentation, translation of your shared traumas and deepest feelings, he might like it just a smidge more.
When you present the idea of publishing your own book, he is definitely on board. He likes to read your stories anyway, he can't see why others wouldn't enjoy it. He would definitely help you find the best publisher and arrange the best deal for you (with a little help from Sebastian, if needed).
When your book becomes a hit in London and the readers as well as critics start asking for a sequel, he feels proud. Proud of himself, for helping you make your dream come true, but mostly proud of you. For not conforming to expectations of others, who would assume you'd take over the Phantomhive company, but instead following your dreams and working hard to make them come true. It is that kind of strength he really admires. But of course, he knows how the world works and so he thinks his help was neccesary (and would continue to be in the future).
In the end, you have sort of a symbiotic relationship. Whenever you need anything for your work, Ciel gets it for you. Art supplies, sketchbooks, he can get you anything and you best believe it'll be in the best quality as well. He also helps you make deals with potential publishers or anyone who is interested in your work, making sure no one tries to scam you and that you get the most benefits from your labour.
In return, he asks for nothing. You already give him everything he needs from you. Your company. He gladly takes on the task of managing the family business, if it means that you can still sit by him in his study, scribbling away, as if nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.
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nerdieforpedro · 18 days
Text
Her smile was worth it
Pero Tovar (modern AU) x plus size female reader (La jefa)
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Word Count: 1882
Warnings: DARK FIC, mobs and their enforcers, mentions of general violence and graphic violence, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of injuries, solving problems Tovar style, comfort food and tea
Summary: Pero Tovar only has a few people he chooses to interact with willingly. The bookstore owner is one of them. Someone made a very stupid mistake, Tovar will handle it and still have his tea.
Notes: This was written for @iamasaddie ‘s writing challenge 2.0. My color was Mob Enforcer and the prompt was “Hurt/Comfort” and “Who did this to you?” We're longer than a Drabble again, we dribbled quite a bit. Such is Nerdie.
I may have leaned too hard into the ‘hurt portion’ but we’ll see. 👀
Main Masterlist/ Pero Tovar Masterlist/ Writing Challenges
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The only good thing about doing collections, was that most of the time, Pero wasn’t using violence. Just intimidation. The shopkeepers knew why he was here and knew the amount they needed to pay to The Family. It’s been the same amount for the past six months, in was raised temporarily for some needed repairs on the club the Valentino family owned. The actual story was that a few of the younger members had been ordered to torture a few members of a rival family and went overboard. The walls, floors and everything needed to be scrubbed. 
Tovar’s been with the Valentino family for fifteen years and as one of their premier enforcers for the last seven working his way up from errand boy. His height and broad frame discourage crossing him, and even if someone is dumb enough to do so, they find themselves bloodied, battered and with at least one thing broken. 
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Today’s last stop for collections was planned and one that Pero normally did by himself. The bookstore owner also functions as the town’s librarian since the town doesn’t have one. It’s a smaller town and to get to a library you must drive two towns over. She normally offers him tea and some type of baked goodies. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s grown to have a slight sweet tooth. Maybe. Really, he could care less about the sweets, he usually chats up the owner and barrows books. Considering he is collecting money from her, he felt he should pay but she always said no. He got the sense it wasn’t out of fear, she liked knowing his thoughts on different books. At first, he didn’t like the idea of discussing them. The enforcer wasn’t sure if he could really talk about different themes, symbols, characters and the like he often heard people talk about when discussing these books. 
La jefa (the boss) as he often greeted her didn’t judge him on his answers or lack of them. He’d talk the best he could about what he read, even if he didn’t understand it all. She listens and sips her tea, then asks him questions to draw more answers out of him. It fustrated him at first. But he grew to enjoy the bi-weekly sit downs with her. 
The chime of the bell goes off as he opens the door. The sun is at Pero’s back as he enters the bookstore. He comes early in the afternoon around two. She’s not at the counter, though the shop is listed as open. Calling out for her, she doesn’t answer, and he sucks his teeth. It isn’t like her at all. There’s no tea out either. There are no books that appear out of place and making his way behind the counter, nothing appears to be wrong with the register.
The enforcer goes into the back of the shop, he only knew where the bathroom was back here. He was looking for anything that resembled an office, as he walked down the hallway, there was a sniffle. As he kept going, they got louder. Taking a breath while he stood in front of a door that was slightly ajar, he tried to prepare himself. Maybe it was a bad day, maybe she got a papercut or was reading a sad book or something. Tovar instantly knew none of those were the case when he opened the door. 
Sitting behind the desk, her shoulders were slumped, and her hands were covering her face. He saw the scabs on the back of her hands, defensive marks. “Jefa dejame ver. (Boss, let me have a look).” Her sniffles stop for a moment as she shakes her head, turning her body away from him in the swivel chair. His eyes widen at the mark on her neck he spies it when she turns, it looks like it could be from a palm. Moving to her side, Pero places a hand on her shoulder, “I need to see cariño (sweetheart) or just give me a name. Who did this to you?” She finally drops her hands, but she turns her face away.
“I don’t want you to see. The envelope is on the desk Pero. Please.”  It is on the table, and he’ll put it in his jacket shortly - it is why he came here in the first place, but he can’t just leave like this. On top of her being one of a small number of people who he wants to be around, it could get around that the protection money the shops pay isn’t worth a damn because you could get beat in your own shop, and nothing will happen to whoever did it.
“Then tell me a name.” It’s sterner this time, but he’s released her shoulder and instead picked up her hand, his thumb tracing the scabs on her knuckles. She’d tried to fight back at least. She’s biting her lips when she finally looks at him, most of the discoloration is on the left side of her face though there’s a cut on her chin and one on her bottom lip. A large bruise is on her chest across her right clavicle, partly covered by her shirt. Pero’s able to keep his face motionless. “Por favor cariño (please sweetheart).” He doesn’t recognize the name she says, but he kisses her forehead and wraps an arm around her. “Gracias (thank you). I’ll be back princesa (princess).” 
Pero puts the envelope in his jacket pocket and heads out of the office. “Close the shop now and have the tea ready when I come back. Between eight and nine tonight.” He’s going to be quick about dropping the money off and he’s texted one of his associates with the name she gave. Within fifteen minutes, Pero has a picture to go with the name and a location. Marcello talks way too much, but he’s the best Tovar knows at tracking people.
Pero finds this man himself and tells Marcello to tell the higher ups that he needs to demonstrate a lesson in messaging with the family. He’ll need the basement and he’ll keep the clean up to a minimum. It’s not that there wouldn’t be blood. There might be too much blood so the powers at be approve the basement use but ask that Marcello and a second enforcer be there so that the man isn’t killed. There’s only murder when necessary and it wasn’t they viewed in this case. Pero sucked his teeth for the second time today but would make sure the man in question lives. Just not with all functioning limbs. 
After the submission of the money and subsequent torture was complete, the man’s body was bandaged by one of their doctors on the payroll and dropped off at his home, during a time they knew his family would be home with the message, “The Valentino family suffers no fools.” Pero carved it into his back to emphasize the point. He was still alive but would not be the same. Not after, as Tovar saw it, he’s violated one of his favorite places. 
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La jefa has long closed her shop and made herself dinner. Now that she thought about it, she’s never made Pero any of her food, just cookies, brownies and the like. Since he said he was coming back, she would make extra. The worst that would happen would be that he would say he didn't want any.  It also dawned on her that she has not made a book recommendation today. She should pick one out before he comes, straightening out her mint green dress. Turning off the stove, she went downstairs to look for a book and saw Pero standing at the door ready to knock. It was a quarter after eight, he was glad he’d taken the extra time to shower. He didn’t want to be late, but he didn’t want to be dirty either. 
“Ah! Mi princesa del librios es bonita (My Princess of books is pretty). You have our tea ready tonight?” His question follows the chime of the bell above the door as she unlocks it and lets him in. She then locks it again and nods.
“I have tea and I made some extra for dinner. I didn’t pick out a book for you yet.” She seems a bit brighter than this afternoon but still trying to make sure she was facing him with her right side. Pero takes her left hand and tugs it a little, not hard, just enough so she faces him fully.
“Hermosa (gorgeous) you don’t have a bad side. Don’t worry about the book. I haven’t finished with the other one yet. I want my tea and I want to see what you made for dinner.” The corners of her mouth curve and finally she smiles, squeezing his hand and leading him up the stairs. Pero watches her walk up and into her living area. It’s cozy as it has books scattered about as well. 
“I don’t know if you like stew, but I made that and heated up some rolls. There’s butter too. I have water, apple juice, coke, and some rum.” The last option surprised him as he didn’t picture her drinking at all. Maybe she had a glass or two when she sat up here before bed. She poured herself a glass of water as Pero pointed to her glass and held up an empty bowel on the table. She filled both and they sat down across from each other. “I hope you enjoy Pero.”
“I don’t doubt that I will cariño.” The food went quickly as they ate, and she asked what other kind of foods he liked. Pero felt he might be getting greedy. Perhaps he’s been gluttonous of her attention each time he comes here. She gives it so willingly. 
Tonight’s tea is mint like her dress which makes Tovar chuckle as he takes up half of her loveseat sitting down. She takes up the other and they sip tea, speaking of past books they’ve read and things he may want to read. 
Even if he got an urgent call, he’ll ignore it because he’s having his tea. Pero Tovar doesn’t feel like an enforcer or a conduit for violence. He just has an arm around one of his favorite people as she places her head on his shoulder. The tough pads of his fingers touch the injured side of her face while he tells her that it’s been taken care of. He won’t tell her details. Tovar figures she can put it together. If he can just have moments like these where he’s just a man with someone he cares for, Pero can use that to sleep. He prays she can rest without crying or being scared. 
The loveseat has his feet hanging off outside of the blanket he found on the back of it. So far, he hasn’t heard her sniffle again. Pero carried her to bed after she fell asleep in his arms. The faint scent of mint mingling with the earthy smell of the books lulls him to sleep. He had blood on his hands again today, but it was fine. It was for her sake, and she hasn’t cried again.
It was worth it.
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sailor-aviator · 7 months
Text
Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Prologue
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Don’t Hang'em Til Noon: Prologue
Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader
Summary: Jake “Hangman” Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?
Warnings: Mentions of parent deaths, swearing, no Dagger members yet, but they’re mentioned, use of y/n. I think that might be it?
Word Count: 1k
A/N: Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know what you all think! Should I continue? 18+ ONLY!! This work is also being published on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator.
Series Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List
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The carriage did very little to quell the seemingly never ending heat of the western territories. In fact, you were fairly sure it was making it worse. You had long given up on attempting to read the many books you had packed - the heat coupled with the constant jostling from the dirt path causing you to nearly lose the contents of your stomach on multiple occasions. Why your brother thought he would try his hand at settling the expansive west, you’d never understand.
Your brother, Benjamin, wasn’t an impulsive, reckless man. No, quite the opposite actually. He had done well for himself back home in Maryland at your father’s law firm. One of the best law firms in the state, perhaps even the entire eastern seaboard. Your great-grandfather had founded the firm, and it was your brother who inherited the family’s legacy when your father had passed only a year prior.
You let out a long sigh, still trying in vain to cool yourself down with your prized folded fan. It had been a gift from your mother on your sixteenth birthday, and it was one of the few things you had left of her now. Your father had been thrown into the depths of despair when she died - the doctor’s had said it was consumption. It was a miracle, really, that none of you had contracted it. Your father had withdrawn after her death, and your brother had been left to pick up the slack as a result. Thankfully, he had already been regarded as a respectable lawyer at the time. So it had thrown you for a loop when he announced one night at dinner that he was moving his practice out west.
You had had been completely against the idea, of course. Why wouldn’t you be? Your whole life was spent amongst polite society in Baltimore. Your friends were there. You had interests there. Your parents were buried there.
“We’ll make happier memories, y/n,” Benjamin had said with a soft smile. “We’ll have a fresh start there. What do you say, Scout?”
Of course, when he called you by your childhood nickname, it was hard to ignore the pull on your heart. You had earned that nickname before you had even hit double digits. Your father was an avid hunter, and despite the constant protesting from your mother, he insisted on bringing you along.
“It’s not proper for a young lady,” she had scowled at him, earning a micheivous smile from your father.
“And so is scowling, my darling. Yet, here we are.”
You chuckled at the memory. Your mother had grown red in the face and practically stomped her way out of the parlor. She had refused to speak to your father until he came home the next afternoon with a small bouquet of wildflowers. They had sat proudly on the table by the front door until they withered weeks later. And you had, indeed, gone on the hunting trip, picking up the art of tracking fairly quickly much to your father’s approval.
“She’s a natural! A regular scout, she is!” he had exclaimed excitedly to your mother when you had returned from the trip. Despite herself, your mother had smiled warmly at his enthusiasm.
Your heart clenched again at the happy memories from long ago. Your mother had died nearly five years ago now, and with your father’s death still so fresh, it was hard to allow yourself to dwell too long on those memories. Perhaps Benjamin was right. What you both needed was a fresh start.
The carriage lurched to a halt on the side of the road, and you heard the driver climb down from his perch. Gathering your skirts, you opened the door and stepped out into the blazing sun. No, the sun was much worse than the stifling heat of the carriage. Shielding your eyes from the dazzling light, you looked over to where the driver tended to the horses.
“Why have we stopped, sir?” you asked, moving to the front of the carriage. The older man looked up at you with a friendly smile, but you could see the tension that laced his shoulders.
“Just giving the horses a quick break, miss. We’ll be movin’ on shortly. I reckoned you’d want to stretch your legs for a bit, anyway.”
“Yes, thank you,” you smiled, looking around at the seemingly endless wasteland before you. Oh, how you longed for the gardens of Baltimore.
“How much farther until we reach Maverick?” you inquired. The newly founded town of Maverick was named after it’s founder - Peter “Maverick” Mitchell. A prominent businessman who had decided to try his luck at helping settle the west, much like your brother.
“Only a couple more miles now, miss,” the driver answered politely, eyes darting around the terrain.
“Are you quite alright?” you asked, nerves starting to eat their way up your spine.
“Just making sure we aren’t ambushed while we ain’t paying attention, is all.”
“Ambushed?” Your eyebrows shot up in alarm. The driver nodded.
“Yes’m. These parts are the Dagger posse’s territory.”
“The Dagger posse?” you murmured, inching closer to the carriage.
The driver scratched the back of his head and let out a sigh. “Some o’ the meanest sons of bitches in the west. Gang is led by Hangman and Rooster, and no one wants to get on their bad side.”
You didn’t respond. Of course you had heard rumors of outlaws here in the west, but you didn’t even think to entertain the possibility of them being anywhere near you. A mistake you now regretted. The driver must have seen your thoughts on your face because he offered you a reassuring smile.
“I reckon we’ll be fine, miss. Don’t you worry now.”
“Yes, thank you,” you answered politely, turning to make your way back towards the carriage. It was only a few moments later when you heard the driver climb back up onto his perch. The carriage lurched again as it began to move once again down the empty road.
Oh, what had you gotten yourself into?
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