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#and no words will ever perfectly describe how i want to interact with the world
angelofthenight · 1 month
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Haiii ^_^ I was just wondering if you can do like micah (from children of the corn 2) x plus sized reader who’s insecure ?? 🖤🖤
Micah x Plus Size!Reader
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(Fem!Reader)
Warnings: Body insecurity, Hurt/Comfort, Reader is the pastor’s daughter, Alluded religious trauma, Mentions of Micah’s abusive dad, Teenage boy hormones (very faint), Kissing
Word Count: 3.0k
( Got a little carried away with the word count but I thought it was appropriate for how long this has been sitting in my inbox😭😭 Also this will be one of the exceptions from only writing Micah as a yandere )
Micah was naturally independent. 
He wasn’t shy or outcasted, he was just reserved and preferred to be at a distance where he could observe those around him. Those who danced mindlessly on the cleared floor in their best formal wear. Those who huddled around the punch bowl muttering about some misunderstandings. Those who clutched their pearls at how a few of the girls’ heels were too high. Those who chose to argue with their partner in the corner of the big room at a celebration like this.
But despite how independent Micah was, and despite how non-complex he viewed everyone in town as, his eyes could never stop from looking for one particular person in each crowded room he’s ever been in. Yet you were nowhere to be found.
In his most honest mind, he looked forward to this town party hosted by the town’s pastor, otherwise known to be your father, to celebrate the renovation of the church. It quite honestly didn’t need to be renovated in the first place, it was a tad small but it was perfectly fine. It was a waste of money in his opinion yet he kept that to himself after letting it slip to his father. His father brutishly shunned him for thinking such a way of the town’s beloved church, followed by a snapping backhand.
The reason he looked forward to this gathering full of balloons and caters was to see you all dressed up. He was still a hormonal guy so the thought of you in a dress made him tug at his collar. 
Micah pined after you hard. Simply just thinking about you made his face redden and collapse in his hands, and he left every interaction with you struggling to resist a dopey grin. He just liked and admired everything about you and found you to be the most interesting person out of all 968 people in this town.
You were a bit of a town outcast. Not physically an outcast where people avoided you or excluded you, no, you were actually very well-liked by the townspeople. You were almost like the People’s Princess of Gatlin. As the pastor’s daughter, you attended lots of town events and were always incredibly polite and humble. Like a princess. 
Though, you were just so… different from the rest of the town. Your world-views, your opinions, your personality, your attitude, your humor, your wit, the way you spent your free time, the way you danced, how you walked, how you talked, and so many other traits. Micah personally surmised you didn’t even believe in God.
You didn’t belong here, not in this town, Micah knew for certain. You were meant for bigger, more exciting things and settings and environments. This small town was one big restraint on you. 
And maybe there were much better words to properly describe you, but to Micah he saw you as cool. Like a cowboy.
So other than his great infatuation with you, he genuinely liked being around you. He wanted to say the two of you were friends but he sometimes guessed he was just a small speck in your colorful world filled with thoughts and views he could never dream of. 
He craved your presence, he found attending this party not even worth it if you weren’t around. But maybe this was what he got for wanting to see you in a short dress so bad. That was until when he lingered around the windows for a change of scenery, he caught the misty sight of your silhouette sitting in the grass facing the cornfield.
It was as if the boredom zapped out of his eyes when he was certain it was you. Quickly running his brown eyes around the room, he spotted his father lost in quiet words exchanged with the farmhand’s wife. She was holding a tray of banana bread muffins with a gushy and blushy expression on her face as his father ate a pinch off one of the sweet breads with a sultry smile, clearly trying to make it look like he was talking about her baking with her when it was clear to Micah that was most definitely not what they were talking about.
With his father too deeply distracted by the female skin of infidelity to prevent his son from sinfully conversing with a girl, Micah took that as his blessing to exit the church in pursuit of you. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to make conversation out of. Maybe he could talk you into joining this little group the new kid in town, Isaac, was gradually forming. He wondered if the central philosophy of the group would appeal to you. He wouldn’t be surprised if the pastor’s daughter held a resentment towards the adult. 
As he dug his hands into the pockets of his pants, not even the breezy night air could cool the warm temperature creeping up his neck the closer he approached you. 
“Hey, (Y/n).” He accidentally croaked out. Your body subtly flinched in the thick cardigan you wrapped yourself into. After rubbing your eyes hurriedly, you turned your head to look up at the dark haired boy. “Oh, hi, Micah. Didn’t hear you creeping up on me.” You said with a soft and friendly tone of voice. 
Micah could’ve fallen to his knees right then and there from the sight of your shiny gaze casted up at him like that, the color of your orbs brighter than a full moon. And he swore he could name every constellation through your eyes. “My apologies. Mind if I sit?” He said, gesturing towards the area of the ground beside you. 
Your plump lips parted with the intent of asking to be alone but as you thought before you spoke, you changed your mind. “Go right ahead.”
A smile spread softly as he squatted down to sit with his legs crossed, his eyes taking in your styled hair and the sweater that shielded whatever you were wearing underneath it. “You look nice. Why aren’t you inside? I’m sure lots of people are waiting for you.” He said with a teasing smile yet also trying to be gentle with you as if you were world class.
You hugged your knees closer to your chest as you practically huddled deeper into your cardigan like a hermit crab, the thought of going inside made that lump in your throat thicker and your thoughts self-destruct all over again. “I know…” you kept pressing your lips together to prevent them from quivering in front of someone, “but I think I’m gonna run back to my house and change then join the party.”
Micah got confused now. You were clearly all pampered up for the party, even wearing the vintage pearl earrings he remembered your grandma used to wear. “But you’re already dressed. What’s the problem?” He took notice of how you sunk into your sweater, wondering if you were just cold. “It’s warmer inside than it is out here so you-”
“I just think this dress was a mistake.”
His dark eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? I’m sure whatever you picked looks great.”
The sound of a mix of a huff and a whimper emitted past your lips as you pulled down your cardigan to reveal your dress. The floral print dress was shorter than your other ones, the skirt only covering less than half of your thick thighs (especially when you sat with your legs up), and the short sleeves were loose over your shoulders. It wasn’t tight but it hugged your curves and your busty cleavage peeked over the low cut collar.
The borderline skimpy outfit was different than how you usually dressed. Much more revealing and bold. And Micah felt as if he was witnessing a once in a lifetime sight, the universe teasing him with what was unattainable yet blessed him the sight out of pity. He didn’t realize his face was turning rosy until he felt the heat in his cheeks. He pursed his lips together and glanced off into the corn.
As goosebumps littered your exposed skin in the nighttime air your blurry eyes remained set on the grass in front of you, your focus not on anything specific. “My dad and I got into a little argument about my dress for tonight. Said it was too short even though it went past my fingertips. I wanted to really stick it to him, like give him the finger, so I altered it to this. But now that I’m actually here, wearing this… I don’t think I can go in.”
In Micah’s mind, he thought you were trying to express your insecurity of the indecent dress because you knew slut-shaming and proclamations of sin were guaranteed to be thrown at you the second you stepped through those doors. You were the Pastor’s daughter after all, and being his only child golden expectations were set for you. 
And though you actually did exceed those expectations by being noble and headstrong, you were a relatively tough individual. You never once stood for someone displaying disrespect and you were never afraid to put someone in their place with a fiery, wide gaze, intimidating people into that place. Other than who your kin was, nobody dared to argue with you. More reasons as to why Micah admired you.
So imagine his surprise when he heard a wet sniffle and noticed the twinkling reflection of thickening tears over your eyes. “Actually I think I’m just gonna go home and stay there. Sit this one out.” Your turning body to stand up made Micah for sure of the emotion in your face.
He said with a careful and nonthreatening tone, “Hey, hey, hey.” His arms softly reached out to grab your biceps, keeping you seated so that he could lean his face closer to yours so that he could meet your tearful eyes; his eyebrows curving upwards and his frown parted. “Why are you crying?” He asked gently with worry but the verbal notice of your mood only made your tears fall. 
You sniffled again as your frown trembled, the sight causing a squeezing pain to erupt in Micah’s chest. “You’re not the only girl in town who would get criticized for being revealing. You shouldn’t think of it as a personal or discriminative or victimizing thing, it’s just the kind of conservative community this town is. You know they didn’t even like when Lacey in our class wore Daisy Dukes in the middle of July.” He tried to comfort using a soothing tone and a realistic view on what he thought you were insecure about.
Though he soon believed he said the wrong thing when your avoidant gaze finally snapped onto his with your eyebrows furrowed, an annoyed essence swapping out your dejected image. “What? I don’t give a crap about them thinking I’m dressed like a whore. I’d wear a Scarlet Letter on my forehead and still not care about whatever they have to say.” You said sternly and clearly. 
Micah, with his hands still gently holding onto your biceps, glanced back and forth between both of your eyes and the cornfield. He was lost and puzzled. “Then… What are you so worried about?”
You didn’t blink as you stared into his brown hues before your gaze hardened and you slightly leaned back away from him. “..…Are you mocking me?”
The boy’s eyes widened as he frantically shook his head softly. “No, no, no. I really don’t see the problem if it’s not being slut-shamed.” He said with genuine bewilderment. 
Your emotions were in spirals and urges to scream in his face and cry at the same time flooded through you like oil leaks near a fire. You felt your spitfire blood pressure grow hot but yet… you didn’t explode. Perhaps it was because of the vulnerable weakness you harbored for Micah that rendered you unable to aim any sort of your conflagration toward him. Your weakness for the shy boy that always sent you a smile when you made eye contact was stronger than your fuse. Especially when he held you so gently and looked deep into your eyes like you were the only thing left on earth.
“Micah, have you seen me?” You said hoarsely, deciding to be point-blank with your approach. “I’m the weight of a cow. And this dress does nothing but make it more obvious.” The way you said your words sounded as if you were insulting someone with the intent to hurt them, but you spoke in the first person.
Micah had to take a second to register and digest what you were saying. But when it did it felt as if his heart broke into small pieces and fell down to the pit of his stomach. If anyone said that about you, Micah would gladly exchange black eyes with them to defend your honor. But the fact this was coming from you… He always thought so highly of you, thought you were in a whole different world than him. 
He was dumbstruck, dumbfounded. He looked back and forth between your eyes for the relieving hint that you were joking, or lying. But no, you were neither of those things. You were delusional. “What are you talking about? (Y/n)... you look incredible.” He breathed out yet his honest words just seemed to sting you even more, your frown deepening and the tears swelling back up.
You slightly wiggled in an attempt to get out of his hold yet his firmed his grip on your arms to keep you close to him. “I just… I just can’t believe that you would say that about yourself. Because in my eyes, you’re like this masterpiece crafted by the divine hands of the universe.” 
Your mind told you not to believe he was telling the truth, that he was just flattering the Pastor’s daughter and not you. But yet despite the dripping tears that fell into the grass, you felt yourself hang on every word that he spoke with such unfiltered sincerity that came out easily. 
“Your curves are not mere flesh and bone, but a testament to the wonder of creation itself, each curve a stroke of genius, each imperfection a mark of authenticity. Like, your body is an exact replica of the muse’s in the renaissance for paintings and sculptures. The timeless ones that people put up in museums to be admired and awed.”
Micah tilted his head to the side to place his face in your avoidant eyeline. He wanted you to look him in the eye as he told you this. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, to see how breathtaking and charming you are. Don’t let some insecurity blind you, because you are a masterpiece, a work of art, a marvel to behold. Your body is a temple, a vessel through which your radiant spirit shines forth, illuminating the lives of all who are fortunate enough to bask in-”
You harmlessly giggled with the sweetest smile and a punch shade of pink dusting across your round cheeks. “Okay, now you’re getting weird, you sound like a preacher.” You used the back of your hand to wipe your nose but also to hide your flustered grin. Micah smiled at the sight and the uplift of your mood, finally sliding his hold off of you.
A cleansing silence drifted over the two of you in your own little bubble. A comfortable one. Your heartbeat thumped sweetly in your chest, making the rest of your insides feel like warm mush that melted because of Micah’s honesty. “You know, I…” You paused to allow your blush and the reality of the situation sink in. “I never knew you felt that way.” You said as you looked up at him softly.
He didn’t know how to respond since he still believed you were so out of his league that you didn’t hold any affection for him. “Well now you do.” He said with a shrug. Your smile grew as your pupils dilated. “And I’m glad I know now.”
He approached what you said with caution and nervous curiosity. “Why?” You abused the seconds of suspense to truly admire the boy in a whole new light. “Because now I realize that I feel the same way.”
Micah was torn. Torn between his father’s words about the shameful sin of just simply talking to girls and the gravitational pull of his emotions and heart and attraction. Everything he was ever taught and learned was coming to question and doubt as he looked into your doe eyes, it was like an epiphany. Perhaps this was his final push into Isaac’s cause and his proclamation that the adults are wrong about everything.
Because could one small stolen kiss with a renaissance muse really condemn him to Hell?
“I really want to kiss you.” He finally breathed out like a warm sigh. “Do you think it’d be a sin if I kissed you?” He asked, genuinely wanting your insightful input. 
You took a moment to ponder until you settled on your answer. “I do.” 
Micah glanced down in disappointment. “So I’m damned if I do…” he looked back up to you with an entranced sense in his eyes, “but damned if I don’t.” He then leaned in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest just below your soft jawline. He hummed into the contact which created a feeling of electricity shooting through you, prompting you to thread your fingers through the dark hair on the back of his head.
If this was the thing that would supposedly convict him to Hell, then Micah believed it was worth it a thousand times.
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yenn-reads · 7 months
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Monthly Series Appreciation
What's this about?
I want to share some of my most precious reading experiences with you.
I'm a total sucker for a good series to binge or wait excitedly for the next chapter to drop. And I would love to see you all interact more with those stories, with those incredible writers who put so much of their heart into their work. And especially series often don't get the attention they deserve. And I want to change this.
So here are three stories that I love very much. Give them a try, re-read them, shout out to the author, reblog it!
Every tiny bit of interaction keeps the fandom alive and this is what we all want. Right?
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Second Chances
Syverson x OFC Eve (💕🔥🌩, status: completed)
I read this early after I found my way to tumblr and I was drawn into this world so fast. @notabronte gave us this lovely small town feeling where we can see Sy fitting in so well. It's the good old enemies to lovers trope, perfectly executed. I had to re-read earlier chapters after I learned a few things about our protagonists in the later chapters and it made me realize how good exactly this whole story was put together. You're going to fall in love with this town, with this car, with this girl and of course with Sy.
The heir
Modern AU Charles Brandon x female reader (💕🔥🌩, status: completed)
This one is special to me, too. First of all, I am such a huge fan of modern AU Charles. I just love the idea of it. And @daydreaming-in-letters is a master in building atmosphere in her stories and The Heir is not an exception. With the first scene she dragged me into that misty morning where we're about to meet His Snobbiness. And it only gets better after that.
Adaptions
Walter Marshall x OFC Jo (💕🔥🌩, status: completed)
This is my favorite Walter ever. He's just perfect. As is @mayloma's writing. She gives us wonderful characters, not only our two lovebirds but also the side characters that we meet. And so many sweet memories, it's heartwarming. Both Jo and Walt have a past and a life and joining them on their journey how to adapt to each other was a great experience.
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oumagines · 1 year
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Kokichi With A Timid/Shy Darling Who Knows He's A Yandere, But Loves Him Anyway
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Anonymous Asked: "Hiiiiii Carrie I agree with your favorite movie choice and do you want to be my friend? Also could I get headcanons of Yandere kokichi with a shy and timid/fearful s/o?
They love to cuddle him hide behind him very clingy they are scared of people and really everything else they do love him despite being a yandere (trust me they are smart they can tell) they hope he doesn’t get too violent though 💜 sorry if this was too much but anyway bye bye!"
Warnings: General possessiveness, mentions of killing, mention of breaking, mention of kidnapping, mention of bullying
Reader Pronouns: They/Them
Rating: 🍊
Notes: First request! And yes, I'd love to be your friend! And thank you! Melanie is my favorite. Who's yours? :)
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Words cannot describe how much this man loves you. Like, seriously.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You hide behind him? He gets the opportunity to be close to you!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You know he's unstable? Perfect! He doesn't even have to hide his true nature from you, then!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You're scared of others? Now he doesn't need to worry about breaking you in first!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He's also a lot less likely to punish you. As long as you're not actively saying anything mean to him, he'll never have to do so. He likes it much better when you smile at him, anyway. :)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Kokichi is the type to tell you to leave your bedroom windows unlocked during the night just in case he decides to leave you any little trinkets or just wants to watch you sleep. Either way, if you refuse, he'll find a way inside, regardless. But it amps up your chances of being kidnapped greatly.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Luckily for you, if anyone ever so much as decides to look at you wrong, he won't hesitate to get rid of them.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He may even ask you to join, if you're comfortable, and reassure you that he'll hide everything, himself.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You don't want him being violent? That's perfectly fine! He can either do it when you're not around, have D.I.C.E. do it, or find non-lethal methods to dealing with his little... "annoyances".
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ And ohmigod... Your clinginess?! So! Fucking! Cuuuuuuute!
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ If there's one way to make this man gush over you, it's to be clingy and affectionate with him! You're the object of his obsessions, after all! Why shouldn't you return the love?
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Not that he'll ever outright tell you that, though.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ "Nishishishi~! Oh, my adorable little S/O! Feeling clingy today, aren't we~?"
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He'll continue to compliment you, and he could do so for hours on end, unless you tell him you're uncomfortable with him doing so.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ After all, you already love him back. He sees no need to punish an already willing lover for their "defiance", so he'll respect your wishes. Doesn't mean he'll stop dropping hints about how cute he finds you, though.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Sometimes, he'll initiate it too, though. You'll be sitting on the couch reading or watching your usual programs and you'll feel just a tiny purple koala latching onto your torso. Sometimes it's cute. Other times, it's annoying. But obviously, he's just trying to show affection for you.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Eventually, he'll ask you to live with him, wanting to take you away from the horrors of the world and have you only for himself and his D.I.C.E. members, whom he trusts to take care of you.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Only you have the ability to quell his deadly desires. Do so. It'll save him and you a lot of trouble.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ On the bright side, if you ever tell him you're scared for any reason, you get access to his unlimited cuddles for the entire rest of that day or night.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Don't even get me started on any conflicts/social interactions outside of generally being with him.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Bullies? What bullies? All your bullies vanished weeks ago! :)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You know you're being stalked everywhere, but you also know that it's normal behavior for Kokichi and don't want to stress him out by telling him to stop. That would be bad for everyone involved.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Whenever he sees you hiding behind him, he immediately thinks someone or something has scared or hurt you and is immediately prepared to commit several felonies in getting rid of it, 10/10.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ All in all, a fairly wholesome relationship... just make sure you treat him well and don't push him.
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ensaladaaa · 1 year
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“Letters” Malleus x Reader
A/N: only wrote this bc i feel like malleus would be those poetic mfs who writes his letters in fancy cursive, use the most leg kicking and giggling love language and sends them carrier pigeon(?) so um this is just malleus describing his love to you i think
Warnings: slight spoilers for the masquerade event but not too big, maybe some cringy lines idk but fluff!!
Includes: loving malleus. i love malleus. y’all r in a relationship. but these are letters malleus would send to you if you both are in a relationship and he’s deep in love with you!!
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Around the beginning of the relationship:
“Dear my Child of Man,
I am still over the moon of you accepting my love and sharing the same feelings. Before I thought of proposing my love to you, I’ve always wondered how you caught my eye.
Ever since we’ve met at your home, with you catching me studying the gargoyles on built on your home, I have had my eye on you. Then, I never knew why.
When you accepted my love and returned yours to me, I suddenly knew why.
Since the beginning, you’ve never seen me as a monster. You were a simple human wondering what I was doing outside. Yes, you didn’t know me. You were simply a human who had the unfortunate event of washing up into Twisted Wonderland.
That was the very first thing that caught my eye but you still continued doing things that I couldn’t help paying attention to.
I’ve noticed that I admired the calmness in your voice to me. Others would stutter and stumble over their words, but you simply conversed with me as if I was just another student. A student who didn’t have such a high reputation, a student with no higher power than anyone else. As if I was your friend.
The way your eyes would twinkle over simple uses of magic, was the world you��ve came from so magicless? When you first touched my horns, I was felt with a warmness I’ve never experienced. Everyone would cower at my horns, yet you claimed you had a fascination of them and they fit me perfectly.
The name you’ve decided on, Horton, was and still is one of my favorite interactions. I understand I didn’t reveal my name, but you deciding to use such a name on me — a person who other tremble at the mention of — was like uncovering a hidden need for a breath of fresh air.
Even when I revealed my name to you, you didn’t cower nor tremble. You only took note of it. Everytime you treat me like a friend or just a normal being, it always shocks me and it seems like it shocks your friends as well.
Then, I noticed that I wanted to be more with you. The feeling of wanting to touch you, friends wouldn’t feel that way, right? Yet, entering the field of love was something entirely new to me. But you still accepted me, held my hands and promised you’ll help.
How was I so lucky to cross paths with you? If I had the option to relive our developing relationship, I would do it over and over again.
I love you, my Child of Man. I’d like to bask in your presence soon, please talk to me if you’d like to do that as well.
I’ll see you soon.
- Malleus Draconia.”
———————
Around the “y’all finally get comfortable around each-other” and always being around each-other part of the relationship:
“Dear Y/N,
It’s been 8 months since we’ve been together and it’s been one of the most joyful times I’ve ever had.
I’m glad that I’ve ever met you. You’re so admirable, I’m lucky to have you as my partner.
I know you prefer to have our relationship hidden until you are ready to reveal it, but I believe some of your friends and my Diasomnia members are starting to suspect something.
Please talk to me when you are ready to reveal it. I’d love to announce it to everyone, even my people back at Briar Valley. I’m sure they’ll accept you, despite being magicless.
It’s so hard to not boast about how wonderful and loving you are. At the topic of you, I hold myself back from proudly exclaiming that you’re my partner.
Though, I will wait for you. Give me the signal and I shall let everyone know.
Also, I’d like to invite you to come with me back to Briar Valley. We do not need to meet my parents, I’m only intending to sightsee the environment with you.
Did I ever tell you I have a pet crow back home? His name is Diablo, I’d like for you to at least meet him. My mother claims that he was helpful with her past duties as Queen and helped her by keeping an eye on me when I was a child. I’m sure you’ll love him as well.
If you do accept, I’m planning on returning there after going to the Shaftlands. The headmaster did choose you and Grim to attend to the school exchange while I was personally invited, let me know during those 3 days of your choice.
If not, I’ll still be returning to Briar Valley unfortunately. Having your presence around me is always like breathing fresh air and I’ll miss it. I will send letters and photos when I can, maybe even bring my pet crow back. I still want you to meet him.
I’m joyful that we both got picked for the school exchange in the Shaftlands. A masquerade ball I heard. I hope you’ll accept my hand to dance.
The trip to the Shaftlands is around 2 days, I’ll see you then, Y/N.
I love you forever.
- Malleus Draconia.”
———————
During the trip at the Shaftlands, after the first day of being there:
“My Dearest Love,
Im sorry to only leave this letter on your bed of the room you are staying in, I wish I could speak to you before you fall asleep. Azul had decided to gather Idia, Riddle and I at nightfall, speaking of a Houswarden meeting. Unfortunately, I will not make it to you to kiss you goodnight.
I shall make it up to you when we tour around again tomorrow morning, I still want to make more memories with you on this trip.
You look lovely in your outfit that you shall wear on this trip. It took everything in me not to kiss you right in front of everyone, even at the festival. The way the fireworks I conjured up with my magic had looked like in your eyes and had highlighted your face, I was absolutely mesmerized.
The only thing my eyes had seen was you and only you.
Though, I couldn’t help but notice when Rollo Flamme had begun talking to you when the students started using fireworks they had conjured up with their own magic as well.
You looked awkward and nervous, with the way you fumbled with your fingers a bit and your eyes always glancing down at your feet. I’m worried about what he said to you. Please talk to me about that tomorrow night, if you would like of course.
I love you dearly, please remember that. I shall buy you a souvenir when we go out again tomorrow, maybe a few small snacks. I’m so lucky to have you by my side.
I’m sorry to cut my letter a bit short than usual, Azul is currently trying to gather everyone when I’m writing this.
I shall see you tomorrow morning, my love.
- Malleus Draconia.”
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sebscore · 9 months
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ahhh thank you for asking! i’ve been travelling around europe and busying myself with projects and whatnot. june was pretty hectic so i couldn’t be on tumblr as active as i wanted to unfortunately 😭 but i missed talking to you!
i did read (and reread gentle hit), both chapters were amazing and i was so immersed in the story! i’ve typed/updated my thoughts on the first chapter below!
chapter one:
- ‘she plastered a fake smile on her face, something sebastian noticed in an instant’ his immaculate people (or in this case, y/n) reading skills, i’m in love. though it’s not hard for me to adore seb vettel lmao
- love the way you wrote lewis and y/n’s easy chemistry! i really like how you expressed their love for each other in their small gestures, whether it’s simply smiling at the other or just laughing. they’re an adorable couple, and the conflict between wanting her to stay in her blissful power couple with lewis or end up with a pining seb is perfectly set up. genius.
- just reading how angst and jealousy hit poor seb in the gut feels so visceral even though lewis and y/n’s interactions are seemingly minor, but this is magnified when you elaborated on their past. this, along with seb’s choice pushing them further from what each other would have wanted was painful (but in the best way). the fact they could’ve had everything but got lost along the way… man.
- platonic sewis! always a sucker for how supportive the both of them are for each other, even though they’re going through different challenges of their own here. to paraphrase ada limon, i love how men love.
- her finding mark webber instead of seb, interacting playfully with mark AND calling seb a hazard to his face. if i were seb i would be eating my hat.
- him playing dumb and just looking after y/n so longingly… oh seb.
- seb actually listening to what y/n said, rejecting lewis’ offer to drink & texting her to apologise… these last few paragraphs were an absolute rollercoaster of emotion, but i think it’s a great summary of the complicated relationship and past between seb and y/n. two kindred souls with vastly different emotions about their past and current scars, trying to work out a future with or without the other. the conflicting ways in which they try to move on just makes my heart ache. and it’s only the first chapter.
- ‘… but the four time world champion always appeared to always find a way back to her.’ OH. what a punch in the gut.
to summarise, i think the revamp of the series is a great step forward! compared to the previous iteration, i think your voice, writing style and characterisation (amongst others) have grown vastly, and it just shows how much you’ve developed as a writer <3 loved this first part and can’t wait for the rest!
(my thoughts for chapter two will come in a new ask soon)
- seb anon 💙
i hope you have been enjoying your travel around europe? would love to know which countries you have visited! and i missed talking to you a lot too! X
and can i just say how you are like the dream reader to have? like this kind of feedback and commentary is the best thing ever and this genuinely made me feel better about my writing :)) youve written everything out so perfectly and you pay attention to the small details, and i cant tell you how much i appreciate that !! <3
the ''easy chemistry'' is the best way to describe the dynamics between lewis and yn! cause their relationship is ''easy'' but in a very positive way! and you are completely right about the conflict she experiences!
EXACTLY! and you worded it so perfectly omg! seb knows everything ended the way it was supposed to, but he cant help himself to get jealous of ''what could have been them'' when he looks at lewis and yn.
the friendship of seb and lewis is also an important part of the series so im SO happy to hear you say that! it will become a big point in the later chapters!
her and mark's friendship is just comedic relief :))) and the ''hazard'' line is one of my fav things!!
your last three points are just spot on! and the way you have the entire thing worked out already from the first chapter is- wow, as a writer this is like the biggest compliment ever :) again, i cant stress enough how much i appreciate and adore your attention to detail! i like adding little gestures and actions, cause often those say more than the characters' words <3
i cant wait to see what you thought of the second chapter! and im glad to hear you think ive developed as a writer, cause thats one of the most important things about this revamp!
have the most amazing day, darling anon!! x
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tomeofsealing · 2 years
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There's something Puyo related that’s been bothering me for awhile and I just want to put it into words. It’s all about Aya’s age and the constant toxic environment around the topic. Fandoms should be about sharing and having fun with headcanons together, not trying to claim who’s right and wrong.
Aya’s age is nonexistent in canon. It’s simply a personal headcanon if one views it as an adult, teen or elder. Yet so many people seem to think it’s canon that Aya is an adult or older, which is simply not true in canon. It’s left vague and up to interpretation on purpose. Nobody is right or wrong. Headcanons are personal interpretations, in all media people can view concepts and themes differently. Like how no one is wrong for headcanons about a character's gender or sexuality. Hounding people who have a different headcanon as you is just cruel and wrong. 
A lot of this seems to stem from Aya being sealed in the Record of Sealing. When in reality, all that’s really known in canon about how the book works is vague. It was taken by some kids who wanted to use it as a prank to seal the demon’s soul. There’s nothing in canon about what happens in the book to the sealed soul and when it comes to how long it’s been we only have one offhand comment by Akuma to guess around a thousand years or more. Because the conditions of how being sealed is entirely up to the viewer, one can headcanon Aya in those thousand years being aware the whole time or in a stasis, in the end neither are canon and perfectly valid to headcanon. 
All we also know about the Original Demon is they kept to themselves, lived in a castle alone and the only physical being described as a shōnen / young boy when the split happened. Some could say that because of living alone in a castle the demon was an adult, or much like Arle; just owns a home as a teenager because it’s a fantasy world. Another thing many need to remember is that Aya’s not the original demon either, only half of the original, much like Sig. They are mutually part of the demon but the original is long gone. Many know I headcanon Aya as an adult, but in my case I see it as Aya was aware the whole time but only in recent centuries was able to interact with the living, putting him in his early 20’s once given a body of his own. Yet I can also see how one would headcanon Aya as a teen, considering the only life perspective we’re aware of for Aya has ever seen is from a teenage boy and when the split happened the remaining half was a teenager; one can easily interpret that into meaning Aya wouldn’t be any different once put in stasis. I can also see how one would headcanon Aya as an elder, watching the world move for centuries while trapped in place. That’s the fun of headcanons, we all can have our different stories and ideas. 
There’s a lot of characters in the media who have a similar trope to Aya I can use as examples for any interpretation. Princess Luna from MLP:FiM was banished to the moon for a thousand years and implied to be aware the whole time, but once free is confirmed to not be fully grown and the same age as she was before being sealed away. She is still a young adult, much like the mane 6, and headcanons shipping her are perfectly fine. Shadow the Hedgehog from the Sonic Series was sealed in stasis for 50 years and that doesn’t make him literally 50, he’s still a teenager. Roxas from Kingdom Hearts isn’t literally a toddler despite his creation time, is a teenage boy like his other halfs. Dark Heart from Care Bears is an ageless demonic entity who can shapeshift, taking the form of a teenage boy originally for evil purposes but in the end becomes a real human boy once learning the concepts of friendship and compassion because truly he was a lonely child. 
In the end there is no right or wrong answer with Aya’s age. You can have a different view than someone else, and that’s okay! If you don’t agree with someone else's interpretation, there’s nothing wrong with that, just don’t think your own view is the only truth. Everyone has their own personal reasons for headcanons like these, some very personal and some just for fun. You wouldn’t get mad at someone who headcanons Aya as Transgender or Asexual, right? Age headcanons with Aya are no different. The truth is with canon; the writers of Puyo do not take this seriously, as new writers will add their own stories in future games, things can get inconsistent or entirely retconned for new ideas. So just, please be nice and let's be happy this is a series where so much creativity and ideas can be shared.
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pennyserenade · 2 years
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may has been an incredibly busy month for me in many ways, and i’ve found i’ve consumed a lot of media because of it. some of it i’ve stumbled upon because of school, sometimes i’ve found it here, written by you lovely individuals, and some of it i’ve just happened upon myself. here is a compiled list of all the new media i enjoyed in may and that i recommend to you all: books, movies, and fanfics.
MOVIES:
all about eve (1950)
rebecca (1940) [much thanks to [ @just-here-for-the-moment ]
funny girl (1968)
cat on a hot tin roof (1958)
butch cassidy and the sundance kid (1969) [thanks to the lovely @iamskyereads ]
ordinary people (1980)
giant (1956)
suspicion (1941)
it happened one night (1934)
mr. smith goes to washington (1939)
the way we were (1973)
BOOKS: 
how german is it by walter abish 
“'How German Is It is perhaps his most celebrated novel, and certainly his most complex. It is a novel that probes Germany's recent past through the brothers Ulrich and Helmuth Hargenau, whose father defected against Hitler in the last days of the Second World War and was killed by firing squad”
FANFICS: 
funny girl by @radiowallet
this fanfic manages to be so funny and original, and i’m absolutely blown away by cat’s ability to write -- it is godly. you might have noticed that i recommended funny girl this month, and that is absolutely because of cat and this lovely, lovely dieter bravo fic. i could not have imagined for the world i would care so much about dieter bravo after watching the bubble, but in this fic he is truly a delightful wonder and i am happy to admit i’d give my soul to him. cat provides such an interesting dynamic between dieter and resident snl funny girl, and though i haven’t been able to read the next chapter yet, i’m so excited to. every interaction between these two characters makes me ache for more. 
stay on the screenplay by @jazzelsaur 
another amazing dieter bravo fic and another amazing author that i cannot recommend enough is this one and jess. this fandom is so talented, but i have to give it to jess for putting dieter bravo in my heart. stumbling upon this was perhaps one of the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, and i just enjoy it so much. jess really brings dieter bravo to life in this fic and it is all the beautiful achy, yearning material one could want. i have a chapter to catch up on, but i can say without a doubt that this is one of the very best fics i’ve read this year. it combines all the things i love and if you haven’t read it yet, you should, because i know you will find that you love it too. jess is truly a genius 
lie to me by @iamskyereads
to my core, i’m a javier peña girl. he’s my favorite pedro character and he will always have that number one spot in my soul. lie to me does him so much justice, i could probably cry about it. i’ve been in a bit of fanfic lull the past few months, but reading this reminded me just how much i love it and for why. skye is such a beautiful writer, one whom i’ve always admired greatly and strived to be like, and this is a testament to her talent. with her expert pacing, her fantastic sex scenes, her spot on javi characterization, and her deeply fascinating reader, lie to me is everything one needs to show that fanfic can be art. that’s exactly what this is too: art.
red flags 2 by @thirstworldproblemss & @astroboots 
i’m half convinced that the words ‘dynamic’ and ‘duo’ were first put together to describe these two because my god, the things they do when they combine their brains. this is nasty in all the very best ways and the steven characterization is so spot on that it softens the blow of moon knight having ended a few weeks ago. these two are keeping him alive and well in this fic, and it is perfectly delightful, on top of thrilling. there’s a sneak of marc to keep you on your toes, but there’s the lovely, awkward, stumbling steven we all know and love taking the reigns for the most part, and some of the most delicious smut known to man. this is truly a master guide in both characterization and sex scenes. 
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coeursetcolores · 1 year
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What I Would Add To/Change About: Devil May Cry 4
Good day! It’s January 31st, and I actually remembered this year! What did I remember?
THE BIRTHDAY OF THE BESTEST WHITE-HAIRED DEMON KILLING BOY EVER (OF WHICH THERE ARE MANY, BUT HE IS THE BEST!)!!!!!!!!!!
In non-squeeing terms, it’s the fifteenth anniversary of Devil May Cry 4, quite possibly the most divisive of the franchise (non-rebooted)! 
My thoughts?
...Did the squeeing not make it obvious?
I LOVE this game!
My first Devil May Cry game, and it was a great investment! Not only did I find a new franchise to fall in love with, but it’s what got me interested in hack and slash games in the first place! Thanks to this one, I expanded my tastes to a whole new genre!
Sure, it has it’s flaws. I know, they are pretty obvious *cough* rushed development *cough*. Even so, this is my comfort game and I want to talk about it and criticize it with all the respect it deserves. Now let’s get into it!
This is all just my own personal opinion and if you disagree with me, that’s perfectly okay! If you’d like to talk about a point I made, please let me know, but please try to respect my opinion as I respect yours.
Alright! Let’s do this!
Come on!
SPOILERS AHEAD!
As per usual, let’s start with all the things that this game did wonderfully!
NERO!!!
NERO, NERO, NERO!!!!
NERONERONEROOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
...I like Nero. (๑꧆◡꧆๑)
Just gonna say it, DMC4 Dante is best Dante, I will hear nothing else. The man was born to be a funcle, it is the obvious path of his character development.
Also he looks cool as a cowboy, I don’t care what anyone says; that look is iconic.
Trish and Lady are back! Re-occuring characters are a thing now!
And DANG! They look hot. Love the outfits! They always look good!
Opera! That whole opening sequence, my boy is a remorseless demon killer who is also such a sweetie pie who gets his girlfriend presents! D’aww!
Fortuna is gorgeous. The bright colors and changing environments really helped this game differentiate itself from the others, but the gothic elements still tie it in. And the enemies blend in while still clearly being obvious they don’t belong in the Human World.
DEVIL BRINGER! The most cathartic gaming mechanic ever! There is nothing more satisfying than getting your enemies health low and pressing that blessed button. All those beautiful combos, savagely ripping enemies apart...perfect for my bloodthirsty son.
Ah, the classic “Church is Evil” trope Japan so loves. Never gets old.
MUSIC! Vocal character themes! That play as you slay!
And man, I love it when a character theme transitions into an opening/ending theme! The Time Has Come/We Shall Never Surrender, perfect way to get energized then cool down.
Did I say anything about Nero yet? Like how he brings a different and interesting perspective to the story? Or how his more emotional and naive personality can be explored as well as Dante’s wiser and cooler one? Or the fact that his willingness to attack humans could lead him to be a darker protagonist than Dante? Or the fact he’s a video game hero that already HAS the girl? Unambiguously? OR THAT HE’S THE CUTEST THING EVER, THE SWEET LITTLE BLUSHY, FACE-HIDING DORK?!!!
And he has a Persona!
AND HE’S JOHNNY YONG BOSCH!
Dante and Nero’s developing relationship. Dante’s clearly just having a good time trolling this little hothead and knocking him down a peg, but still knows when to tone it down and help out. And OHMIGOSH HE WAS CONCERNED! Get those strong male parental figure points! You were born for this!
Ah, Dante mode. Switching the novice’s simplicity for the master’s variety.
And yay! They finally settled on a voice actor!
Kyrie! Cutie!
The FUNNIEST boss fight interactions!
CREDOOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO! (Ω Д Ω)
And, oooh, I love the continuing narrative from DMC3 that humans can be just as evil as demons. The loose but present repeating elements between the games are so much fun to analyze.
That secret ending. Words cannot describe it’s beauty.
Alright, that’s enough gushing, time to go over what should have been expanded on/brought in but was probably left out because of reasons *cough* rushed development *cough*.
ADD:
They. REALLY should have had more cutscenes between Nero and Kyrie. Y’know, make the relationship believable and well-developed. Establish their dynamic. Maybe have them talk on the phone? It’s 2008, they would at least have cellphones, demon cult or not.
For that matter, give us some more time with Credo: Make us really feel the conflicting emotions when we finally have to face him. Come on, we play Japanese videogames, we’re clearly emotional masochists!
Give. Dante. His. Own. Bosses.
And if you’re going to give us two characters, expand the level count from twenty to forty.
With someone as cocky as Nero is when the game starts, why not show him clearly messed up after losing to Dante? The guy who clowned on him, one of the best in the country? Especially since his inferiority complex was such a big deal in 5.
Give some more time fleshing out Nero’s relationship with Fortuna/the Order, like in the novel? Everyone loves an All the Other Reindeer character and it really could have helped endear him to the fanbase with explaining his abrasive side.
Explore that Nero’s willing to kill humans? The thing Dante refuses to do? He didn’t know that armor didn’t have a person and went straight for the kill, and he had no qualms about ending a seemingly human Agnus. Would have been an interesting point of confliction. Might’ve been interesting to explore in later games...
Show how the events of the game affected the people of Fortuna? We saw the city in ruins, but what about the folks living there? Would they turn on the Order? How would they treat Nero? Do they consider the city worth restoring? How did Nero and Kyrie react to losing Credo?
And now, what needed to be completely overhauled.
CHANGE:
Get rid of the dice game. Leave the puzzles to Dante, Nero.
Maybe make Dante mode a bonus for beating the game the first time? The bonus ending could just be his ending.
Honestly, the game was more unfinished to me than flawed. 
Overall, the game isn’t perfect, but I love it. Whenever I need to just chill out and play something that makes me feel good, DMC4 is my first option.
I’m so happy I picked it up the day I did. I got to discover a whole new way to enjoy gaming and found one of my most favorite videogame characters of all time, along with others that I love. 
Others may see it as the weak link in the franchise, but Devil May Cry 4 will always be my favorite.
One question, though.
Shall we dance?
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Don't know why I needed other ppl doing this to finally send you this appreciative ask, but I thought you wouldn't want to interact with anyone cuz you mentioned going through a slump. So i held in all the shit I wanted to say about your beautiful art (not visual arts) which is your writing.
Honestly, I joke yo write like you one day. Or at least as good as you. The way you describe shit is so... tidhsgfegsv idek fuck.
I've just been spending months reading all your works dude, you are BANGING in that area (your writing). I just- I just- maybe it's cuz it's been long since I wanted to say this so Idek the words to write, but I just love you and your work (sorry if saying ily makes you uncomfortable 🙏🏾).
Anyway, your writing is really beautiful, it's engaging, it makes me wanna give you my last penny if you publish a book and ask for more. Idk if that's... idk in..sen..sitive...? but idk you're really great is my point.
I think my first fice of yours was a sevika fic (like fine wine) but I didn't even know your blog cuz I didn't look at the name 💀. But I noticed your style of writing when I came to your blog and read your Kassandra fics.
See, for THOSE ones ???? I am forever grateful, cuz you made me live that woman more. And despite her not fully having a solid personality (yk the fact rhat we can choose what she says and all that), you captured her perfectly. I think my favourite fic is the one where reader moves into a new place and meets Kassy and her beautiful bird uhhh... Ikaros! Or maybe it's that friends with benefits one that I would love to read more of (I was sad when I saw it was supposed to be a full length fic, but it became headcannon 😪 it's still good though dw😭).
I'm typing too much now, but your fics made a um, safe (?) space for me in my head to properly daydream (this is probably bad but wtv 👀), and I think that's great.
Uhhhh, gb
Hope nothing I've said is offensive anywhere or in anyway. I hope you get through your stressful uni life successfully. I feel you on that. Uni is fucking stressful, especially with the misogynistic assholes you mentioned.
I didn't expect to full on ugly-cry today. But this is one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me. This genuinely means the world to me and I'm sad there aren't enough words to encapsulate the emotions I'm feeling right now 😭
Thank you for everything - your time reading my fics, your kindness, sharing your appreciation for the characters, and your consideration for my mental health. I will never close my inbox even if my brain is in the shitter, because interacting with the wonderful people who read my stuff is one of the few sources of real happiness in my life.
Daydreaming is a beautiful thing! And the reason I write is to help facilitate that, so I am very touched 😊
Rest assured, you have been nothing but sweet and considerate. Thank you so, so much for taking time to type this. I can't emphasise how much of a healing experience it was reading it. Have a lovely day my dear ❤️
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For most of my life, I thought I was female, for the last 2 years I thought I was male. Then in recent weeks, I started thinking about my gender as like. A pair of shoes.
Male doesn't fit.
Female definitely doesn't fit.
Nonbinary almost fits, but it's like a half size too small and still isn't comfortable.
So in the end, if we're running with the shoes metaphor, I decided going barefoot was the most comfortable option
For me even, the idea of fit still doesnt,,, quite work for me.
I'm not a puzzle piece trying to fit into something else, I'm just like..... A human person who is complicated.
Labels don't, fit. They're just tools. I will never find a label that projects the perfect image of how I experience gender into someone else. No words will ever capture that. I use labels because they are short hand for certain things, and because they let me live the life I want to.
Labels are the compromise between the internal world and the external world. You'll never find one the Perfect because even if you did, not everyone defines it that way. There is no gender seed, there is no perfect label. They're just ways of communicating what you want.
Like, an example I gave at an lgbt youth group I used to run was about being chronically ill:
When I tell people about my illnesses, different people get different things.
To my doctor I describe my symptoms, because I want to them to know what things are causing me issues.
To my work place they get fancy list of verified medical terms which give me access to the bare minimum resources I need make the workplace survivable.
My friends get what they can do to help in that current situation, lower the lights a little, let me see your mouth when you talk, I need to sit down for a bit.
Restaurants get my dietry requirements. And what level of care they need to take about contamination.
Intrusive strangers get the worst sounding medical name because it makes them uncomfortable.
My notes app get metaphors to try and explain to myself the things I feel inside me the way the pain sits in my bones the way nausea is constructing
My teachers get a list of disorders and brief explaination and the accomodations I need.
All of these are equally true, and absolutely none of the capture the internal experience of being chronically ill.
Nothing I ever say will transmit and exact replica of my experiences to someone else's head. Instead I use the words that allow me to have the thins I need in that moment.
I am non binary because I tell people I am. I am non binary because I live in the world this way, because I perceive myself this way, because it articulates what I want.
Stop worrying so much about if you're [x] enough. There is no [x] they're just words we made up. Of course, words have meanings and subverting them entirely will lead to a break down of communication, but stop pressuring yourself to find YOU. Youre in process, you'll never fully capture it, just find the words that communicate what you want, to the world and to yourself, and you'll be okay
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ddarker-dreams · 3 years
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The First Contract. Yan Zhongli x F Reader
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Warnings: Yandere themes, explicit not SFW, dubcon, unhealthy relationships, minor character death, and forced marriage. Word count: 5k. Note: i have no idea how i gathered the willpower to write all this in two days. i fell in love with the concept and just... kept rolling... and here we are. 5,000 words later . i hope that you enjoy, i put lots of effort into this piece! while the reader in this story presents as afab, honestly, they’re a god so... that’s just the form they chose to take. i put the warning there still just in case. 
[The First Contract index]
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i.
There was once a time when the nation known as Liyue hadn’t yet been named. There was no singular Archon that ruled over the land, nor were the people inhabiting the vast wilderness fully united. Numerous beings, described by mortals to be gods, roamed the land side by side with those who chose to follow. Humans had yet to grasp the many concepts that made modern civilization possible and leisurely.
For one, there was no common currency mutually agreed upon. What valuables one would covet but not be able to gain for themselves had to be bartered for, a primitive version of a verbal contract. Silk garments, sugary sweets, exquisite jewelry — no one cared for such things as they simply did not exist. To live meant to hunt, gather, perhaps dabble in early artisan attempts, and engage with the scattered community when time allowed.
Those days were simple, if not a touch plain. And yet… compared to all the finest luxuries in the world now at your fingertips, you would choose that simpler time in a heartbeat. For what good is fragrant incense, flowing outfits tailored perfectly to your body’s measurements, diamond-encrusted hairpins, rouge pigment to dust both your cheeks and lips, if at the end of the day, you were miserable?
And you were nothing if not miserable. Bound by oath and shackled to a lifetime of another’s intricate design.
Nothing could have ever prepared you for what was, by all means, the makings of a normal evening. While weaving around Liyue Harbor, there was suddenly an excited crowd forming on the busy streets. Children jumped up and down trying to get a better look at the main event, some even rushing to climb nearby trees for a better vantage point. Those of revered status, likely hailing from Yujing Terrace, sat in plush chairs with a clear view of the stage. You were greeted with some less than pleased grunts as you stopped in place, wanting to find the source of all this unusual commotion.
Theatre and plays were commonplace in the era, what was it about this one that had people so riled up? Amidst the tightly packed crowd, you’re unable to clearly see the main stage, too many taller folk blocking the way. The incessant murmuring stops when a voice calls out from the stage, loud and bellowing. What he says next has you spiraling into what you long considered a nightmare of the forgotten past.
“Today is the debut of our most anticipated production yet! Thank you for your patience. Now, ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy this historic rendition that’s never been seen on stage before. This is the epic tale of The God of War, Rex Lapis, and his devoted lover, The God of Sand, Vephar...”
ii.
“You… wish to learn how to make glass?”
Rex Lapis was a most peculiar sort. That was the impression you got from him, the select few times he made an appearance in your humble lands. He had to be if he saw fit to spend hours with you in leisure. It’s not that you thought lowly of yourself — you were a divine being, after all — you just found his persistence strange. There was bright motivation lit inside him, his ambitions far surpassed yours. You were content to spend your many days walking the beach, interacting with those who approached you, or searching for treasures from the ocean’s depths that washed onto the shore.
Needless to say, the two of you were very different, despite having more in common than most.
Rex Lapis had set his eyes on some commendable goals and would not rest until he reached them. So for him to never once miss a promised meeting, meetings that he adamantly set up, made little sense to you. Perhaps he was lonely, you once concluded. Whatever the case, you never gave it much thought. He was knowledgeable and had a tranquil presence. You suppose he must have appreciated your company as well, or at least enough to always come back.
“If you’d take me on as your student,” Rex Lapis responded, a serious expression etched onto his deceivingly young-looking face. He was handsome in this form, you’d give him that.
You couldn’t see any reason to not entertain his request. The element of Geo rushed through your veins the same as it does his, which allowed him to pick up on the necessary techniques with ease. He was a dutiful learner and patiently sat through your various explanations. Sand materialized by your decree and transformed into a variety of shapes, everything from vases meant to carry water and polearms for hunting. These were the same methods you taught the humans under your care to make their brief lives easier. Of course, a god such as Rex Lapis had the unfair advantage of being able to manipulate the earth to his wishes; he picked up on the various nuances faster than the mortals did.
You ran your fingertips over a translucent bowl he made for your examination. “I could be mistaken, but it appears to me that the great Rex Lapis is already acquainted with intricate glasswork.”
“I am familiar with the basics,” he confessed, arms crossed over his lean chest. “You, on the other hand, are an unequivocal master of the art. I simply wished to learn from the best.”
“Your praise flatters me.” Your smile is tentative and meant to give little away. This further confirmed your suspicions that something else was at play here, something he’s kept purposefully hidden. Call it intuition from living many centuries, but you had an inkling that whatever secret Rex Lapis held close to his chest would spell trouble for you and your people.
Rex Lapis frowned at the evident strain in your voice. “Something is troubling you.”
He didn’t skirt around the issue with tact as you’ve come to expect, his amber eyes evaluated your every mannerism for information. You sat his creation down, careful not to harm the fragile bowl, and met his unflinching gaze. This is a side of Rex Lapis that you heard solely through word of mouth. When he was with you, he was thoughtful and courteous, a far cry from what his enemies saw before they were obliterated into dust.
“You have a war to be fighting,” you pointed out, an eyebrow raised. “Definitive godhood to obtain. All these ambitions and more — and yet here you are — spending a calm evening crafting glass utensils with me. Why is that?”
For the first time since you were acquainted, Rex Lapis didn’t have an immediate retort.
He cleared his throat. “In truth, that is the topic I came here to speak with you about. I’m in need of your services—”
Rex Lapis cut himself off at the glower you shoot his way. It’s remained an unspoken rule that you would have nothing to do with his war, his carnage, his cause. Your people weren’t warriors, they were fishermen and nomads. The two of you had long established that you wouldn’t stand in his way to Celestia. He could have the throne for himself, such things were of no interest to you. Your main priority was and would always be your people and your freedom.
“Please, [First]. Lend me your ear for this brief moment. What I want isn’t what you think it to be.” Rex Lapis pleaded with you, humbly lowering his head. It made for an amusing sight, considering if he saw fit, he could strike you down with unfair ease. There was a reason why he had been accurately dubbed the God of War and you hadn’t. He rarely addressed you by your personally chosen name, another detail that was not overlooked. This was serious.
You gritted your teeth together. “So be it. Continue.”
“I understand and respect your stance on wanting to remain neutral,” he assessed your reaction and continued when you raised no further protest. “However, I’m afraid such a position is no longer within the realm of possibility. This will reach you and your people. It’s not a question of if, it’s a question of when.”
Mortal sickness never affected you, but to hear those words fall from his lips, you might as well have been rendered terminally ill. Your pulse quickened and by your silence, he knew that you knew he was right. It would be a fool’s error to think yourself above the elongated, skeletal hand that is war, much like the kind hearted Havria.
Rex Lapis took a step closer to you and unexpectedly placed his gloved hand on your bare arm, in what he must’ve considered a comforting gesture. “Let us form a mutually beneficial agreement. My Adepti and I will protect you and your people as if they were our own.”
You pause to reflect on his suspiciously generous offer. “... And what is it that you want in return?”
“In return,” he repeated, and the tips of his hair glowed a bewitching amber, “There are two conditions that must be met. Firstly, you will lend me your aid in crafting a polearm that can slay even a god. I have — for the most part — created the base for you to work with. All you need to do is adorn it with your indestructible glass, imbued with Geo energy.”
A reasonable enough request. “That I can do.”
“Excellent. Second, is the matter of your position in regards to ascension. You’ve stated before that you hold no interest in Celestia’s seven thrones, am I correct?”
You swallowed the saliva that had been building up in your mouth, not liking where this was going. The intensity in which he stared down at you did not bode well. He accepted your nod as reason to continue.
“While that may be your position now, there’s no saying for certain you will always feel that way. That is why I’m suggesting an alternative, concrete solution. I will have you as my wife as proof of your intentions eternally aligning with mine.”
This rendered you completely and utterly speechless. His calm proposal, posed in such an affirmative manner, stole your breath like your lungs had been punched. That is what he came here for? Rex Lapis wanted to seal the deal in a union? There must be some mistake, a misunderstanding you failed to catch. What he proposed felt more skewed in his favor than yours.
“Y-you couldn’t possibly mean,” you sputtered, eyes widened and mouth agape, “To marry me?”
“If that’s what you wish to call it, then yes, that is my exact intention.”
Rex Lapis reacted to your outburst with complete composure, like you were the one acting unreasonable here. Never could you have dreamed he wanted to pursue this. He allowed you all the time you needed to regain yourself, standing patiently by and regarding you with an unreadable expression. This wasn’t a joke, that much you know for certain. He’d never been the best with the nuances of humor. No, he’s dead serious about everything.
“I… can’t agree to this,” you averted your gaze from his, finding it too heavy. “The polearm, yes, but not the second condition. My word should suffice; have I ever gone back on it?”
He hummed thoughtfully and placed a hand to his chin. “I’m afraid that this requires more than a mere verbal promise — it requires a contract. The stakes are too high for anything less.”
“Then I refuse.”
“Have you not readily agreed to spend time with me? The gods are a dying breed, and in time, they will be all but wiped from this world. I could protect you from meeting that fate. No one else can understand you like I do; and no one else can understand me like you do. [First], allow me the honor of being wholly yours.”
You shook his hand off of your arm and he frowned. “This is little more than coercion, Rex Lapis. I’ll only say it one more time: I refuse.”
The ocean breeze whisked by and ruffled his long, dark hair. The ensuing silence is anything but comfortable — you could feel him critically assessing both you and your aggressive body language — yet he didn’t act on the tense atmosphere. Instead of pouncing like you feared he might, he reluctantly nodded. It may have been your overactive imagination, but you swore you saw genuine disappointment flash through his weary eyes. The only disappointment that could compare to the degree he felt it was yours. That your century old friend would try and manipulate you in such an overt manner betrayed the trust he previously cultivated.
“We shall see.”
That was all Rex Lapis said before he turned to leave you with your many thoughts.
iii.
You had never seen anything like it in your many centuries of life.
The frantic whispers that bled into the night, stories that mothers told misbehaving children to earn their obedience, nothing could deliver justice to witnessing the bone-chilling sight in the flesh.
It was like they were objects frozen in time. Their last moments had been ones marked by realization, then by all-encompassing terror. Decimated without hope of salvation in what must have been mere seconds. Those few moments were all it took to steal the lives of everyone who once inhabited this small settlement — the one under your watch — rendering what was once living and breathing humans to crackling stone. You knew their names, their faces, everything that made them a unique individual by heart. Those who prayed to you and those who didn’t. None of that mattered, you cared for them all the same.
There was no doubting who had done this.
You paused your heavy walk to tearfully inspect a statue-like woman, Zhi Ruo, who had dropped her pottery in an attempt to shield herself from the oncoming petrification. She was once a dedicated mother who asked for your healing hand when her children fell ill. Her eyes were wide blown and faintly bloodshot — could she still see you somewhere in there? Did her soul reside in the crackled rock? Would she curse you, if she had known that this was due to a decision you had made?
There would be no answer to these many questions that haunted you.
The words Rex Lapis had said before departing that day echoed in your mind with every step. Had you known that they were a challenge, you wouldn’t have let him leave, wouldn’t have let him come here to punish those who were not involved in your affairs. Men, women, and children; none were discriminated against. In just a few days, they would be nothing but ash dusting the earth, forgotten by everyone but you. You. Their God, the one who was supposed to protect them, the one who swore to shield them from this senseless war.
You failed them all.
It doesn’t make any difference, and yet you’ve spent these past few hours vehemently apologizing to each of them, wept countless times at their feet. What could ever free you from the guilt that shackled you? Some apologies were through tears, others accompanied by raw screams, and some so quiet that even you couldn’t hear them. Their faces will remain immortalized in your head until the day you too return to the earth.
This would just be the beginning. What was there to prevent Rex Lapis from raining down execution upon your people who could still draw breath? Nothing, is the answer you concluded. Nothing, save for sacrificing your tattered pride and future. Maybe it would’ve been different had you been stronger. For all that talk of not wanting to turn out like Havria, sweet yet oh so foolish Havria, here you were.
There was work to be done. You didn’t have the luxury of time to mourn the deceased, not when more lives were in harm’s way. Exhaustion had long since seeped into your weary bones, but you pushed on and ignored the reverberating shrieks ringing in your ears. While you weren’t there at the time, your soul was tugged down by the massive loss of your precious people. You had fallen to the ground, rendered unable to even breathe, felt their lives slip through your fingers like they were nothing but sand.
Rex Lapis’ domain was half a day’s walk from this location. You couldn’t afford to waste any more time here, wallowing in your self-hatred. So you continued on, gliding like a specter in the long night, to face the one responsible for it all.
iv.
He had anticipated your imminent arrival.
The terms were laid out once more, just like that evening spent on the beach weeks ago. From nothing, he formed a scroll of parchment, with lines upon lines detailing your extensive agreement. There was little point in looking over it, yet you did anyways, checking for possible deceptions. Everything was as he said it would be. You might have given him a little credit for not adding any unnecessary fat to the contract, had it not been for the burning resentment he ignited by slaughtering your people.
With a heavy heart, you signed your name, not as [First], but as the deity Vephar.
The matter of the polearm he wanted you to help form — Vortex Vanquisher, as he called it — would be tended to at a later time. There was something else that had caught his full attention after you signed on the dotted line. You could feel it pulsating in the air without him uttering a single word. What he was most focused on, more than anything else in the everlasting universe, was you.
That night, the two of you consummate your marriage.
Rex Lapis took his time with you, and worshipped every inch of your bare body with the utmost reverence. The God of War had conquered you and this was his sweet reward. You laid beneath him, squirming and unable to relax, your chest heaved desperately for air in between his ministrations.
You swore his eyes shone when you shakily reached for his erect length.
Never had you felt so humiliated — so undignified — when you parted your lips to press a kiss against the tip of his leaking cock. Rex Lapis gave no outward reaction to this, aside from his tightened grip on your head. Your entire body burned with indignation when his smooth, baritone voice filled the room, blocking out everything other than him.
“Are you so determined to please me, my pearl?” He chuckled, running an affectionate hand over your cheek. You don’t humor him with a response and instead set out to finish the job you started. All he can do is hum in approval when you wrapped your trembling hands around the base of his cock and slowly pumped upwards to test the waters. From the breathy noise he released, you assume he approved, and continued on.
Precum starts to leak from the tip, which you tentatively licked up, your mouth wrapped around what parts of him you could take.
His hand helped guide you up and down his sizable length. Rex Lapis leaned back onto the bed but made sure to never tear his eyes away from you so earnestly pleasing him. Eventually, he started to not so gently thrust his pelvis upwards, cherishing the warm cavern of your mouth wrapped tightly around his twitching cock. He felt his release getting closer, the sight of you being so subservient to his every whim almost enough to make him cum down your throat.
However, he’s been patient this long; he can wait to do that another day. You do have eternity to spend together, after all.
Rex Lapis suddenly pulled you back and away from his flushed dick. Your bruised lips are connected to his cock by a thin line of his cum and your saliva, an image he resolved to engrave into his head. Before you could question why he stopped, he’s upon you, and his hands gently pushed you against the bed reserved for the occasion.
Ah. Does that mean he finally wanted to…?
“Be a dear and spread your legs for me,” he whispered into the crook of your neck, sending heat down your body.
You did as he commanded, albeit hesitantly. He hummed in appreciation, and took a moment to teasingly rub the head of his leaking cock against your slick entrance. Tonight, you got to witness his unfair patience firsthand; he had teased and touched you for many hours now. Where you just wanted it to be over with, he wouldn’t rest until he had committed every inch of your body to memory. This is what he worked so hard for, he was going to enjoy himself, to enjoy you.
He entered you slowly, his dick sliding inside and stretching you out. Your neck shifted to the side, every muscle in your body had gone tense at the unusual sensation, you were somewhat grateful that he took the generous time to prepare you beforehand. Once he was completely inside you, he pulled back, the drag of his length against your sensitive walls enough to make a shy moan leave your lips.
Encouraged by the sinful sound, he started to slowly thrust in and out of you. He marked you with his protruding teeth, whispered high praise into your ear, ran his ravenous hands up and down your body which now forever belonged to him. So this was always his goal, you realized. Rex Lapis intended to make you his all this time when you regarded him as good company. Was he always like this? How did you overlook it? These thoughts clouded your mind while he went deeper into you.
You cried out when all the sensations became too much to handle. He exhaled shakily at how your walls spasmed around him, and tightened his bruising grip on your hips. Your new husband happily fucked you through your nth orgasm of the night, greatly pleased by how your body responded so positively to him. He didn’t need to say what he was thinking for you to know.
Finally, Rex Lapis pulled your hips flush against his, and a sound akin to a low growl left his lips when he emptied himself deep inside you as the final insulting blow.
He pulled himself out of you seconds later and laid by your side. The regal air that normally surrounded him returned, the ravenous beast from minutes prior tucked deep away once again. All was silent, save for your pants. You were brought into a tight, suffocating embrace, while he affectionately stroked your back. Maybe you should have fought harder against his touch, maybe you should have cursed him for what he had done.
Yet you didn’t. You allowed Rex Lapis to do as he pleased, though you remained stiff as a board. How disgusted you felt, that his hands which pleasured you without ceasing were the same hands used to martyr your people. Still, you would not cry; you had no more tears left to shed. So you laid there, by his side, counting the seconds as they passed to keep yourself anchored.
It was then you realized that this was only the start to your eternal imprisonment.
v.
Rex Lapis — or Zhongli, as he goes by these days — greets you at the door with a closed mouth smile. It doesn’t matter that he’s seen you everyday for thousands of years, he always looks as pleased as the first time.
“Ah, [First], what excellent timing. I was just about to look for you—”
“What is this?” You cut him off, shoving a flier for the disrespectful play against his chest. His eyes flicker from the paper and back up to you. It doesn’t take a genius to surmise that you’re pissed, though having millenniums of marriage to you underneath his belt does lend some assistance. Zhongli appraises what you’ve pressed against him, pupils moving left to right while he examines the flier.
“A theatrical production based on Liyue’s folklore,” he replies, unwrinkling the paper to get a better look at it. “Specifically, the beloved tale of Rex Lapis and the God of Sand.”
Your will to remain calm is far past its limit. “I know that. What I’m talking about is the contents of the play itself. None of this is accurate, none of it all!”
“Such is the nature of these things, my dear. History often loses its authenticity as time erodes the scarcely well-preserved facts,” Zhongli motions to the table, two teacups with steam rising from them awaiting in your respective spots. You don’t honor him with a verbal response. Everything in your mind is too hazy to properly formulate how enraged you feel, it took all of your waning self-restraint not to lunge a meteor at the stage and obliterate it.
If you were to be honest with yourself, it’s not even the fault of the oblivious humans and their idealistic take on the past. They are ignorant to what truly occurred and boast no ill intent. However, it’s easier to have something concrete to direct your ire at, so they’ll suffice as a scapegoat for now.
You despise how your tea was made just to your specific liking, the flavor perfected in a technique Zhongli curated centuries past. The burning hot liquid stings your clenching throat as you take a hefty sip. “Can’t you— can’t you do something about it? That poor imitation is insulting to us both.”
Ever the graceful one, Zhongli takes his seat across from you, lifting his teacup to inhale the subtle aroma. “What would you have me do?”
“Anything. The Rite of Descension approaches, why not condemn the play and insist on its immediate removal?”
Zhongli raises an eyebrow at your severe suggestion. “That is not my place.”
To be fair, if you were in a better state of mind, you would agree. Of course he wouldn’t go to extremes over something like this. Unless they were making an outright mockery of you — which he would argue that they were not even if you considered it was — Rex Lapis doesn’t interfere with Liyue’s theatre scene. Much less the rose-colored version they were reciting. It’s the version he passed for truth, never denying or confirming the validity. You considered it to be lying by omission, an argument that the two of you hadn’t had in centuries, but that might change in a few minutes.
“It displeases me greatly,” you reaffirm, placing your cup back onto the table and steepling your fingers. “In the past, you offered to impale anyone who so much as looked at me the wrong way. Why not apply the same logic to this?”
Zhongli doesn’t deny the promise he made centuries ago. “That isn’t the case here, is it? Had I found myself incensed to violence over historical accuracies being portrayed as fact, Liyue Harbor would’ve ceased to exist long ago.”
“Morax,” you plead in a low voice, causing him to frown at the unexpected usage of his official title, “Please. I simply cannot fathom walking the streets while that… mockery of a show exists.”
His dark eyelashes flutter shut as he considers the problem at hand. “I can send for the items you require until the production has finished.”
“That’s not the problem!” You exclaim, warmth rising to your face at the uncharacteristic outburst. He extends you enough grace to not comment, allowing you the time necessary to regain yourself, which you gratefully accept. Your fists clench by your side, but that doesn’t compare to how your heart churns. No one knows the truth. No one knows the pain you endured by his hand, the agony of losing those you cherished, no one knows. They portray you as a lovestruck maiden, head over heels for the benevolent God who saved you from the throes of war; the ideal love.
Your husband takes in your distraught expression with pity. “I will see if there’s something I can do.”
It’s likely an empty promise meant to pacify you more than anything, yet you force yourself to believe it, taking in a deep breath. Truthfully, what you fear runs deeper than mortal’s silly falsehoods. The roots of it have long been planted and cultivated by the man sitting across from you, peacefully nursing his tea on what you’d describe as an average afternoon. What you fear is that you’ll forget. That one day, he will have successfully brainwashed you into overlooking the past injustices. The whispering temptation is both unbearable and alluring. When you find yourself slipping into that placated state, you almost hate yourself more than you hate him, an incredible feat.
Zhongli leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Tell me, [First]... what version is it that you believe?”
“I—” Your breath catches in your throat. Damn those omnipotent, breathtaking eyes of his. For all the verbal grief that you don’t mind putting him up to, this topic is a terribly sore one, that you don’t dare tread upon. Zhongli’s patience for your contempt only extends so far. What you have learned — entirely against your will as he seemed so fond of doing — was that he wouldn’t stand to let you slander your closely interwoven past. For whatever reason, it was entirely taboo.
Perhaps even he had deluded himself into thinking that your tale was a sweet love story.
“The version I believe, huh?” You muse, laughing a humorless laugh. Zhongli and the people of Liyue’s palpable variant, or the scraps of truth you’ve somehow managed to clung to? A lovestruck tale of two gods finding comfort in each other during all out war, or the tragedy of being coerced into an unrequited marriage to defend those you cared for? What was fact, what was fiction?
You no longer can say that you know for certain.
“There was once a time when the nation known as Liyue hadn’t yet been named…”
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hypnos-42 · 2 years
Text
Hi everyone, thanks for all the love and share in the previous post, here are some talk about Craig and Tweek again, and adult Creek headcanons. (not really but involve Post Covid spoiler?)
Yesterday, I tried to find a clip in which Wonder Tweek says "You go, girlfriend!" to Call Girl. (Love their friendship)
But in the end, I watched dialogues of Tweek and Craig and Put it down again. Then I noticed Craig somehow acts cool when his classmates are around, even though he doesn't usually care about others.
For example, in TFBW:
Captain Diabetes: Wonder Tweek, no! The world needs you, Super Craig needs you!
Wonder Tweek: Did he say that?
Super Craig: No!
Wonder Tweek: Did you miss me?
Super Craig: Am I supposed to?
Wonder Tweek: Craig, you can't be bothered to save your love?
Super Craig: I was busy!
But remember in "Put It Down" he called Tweek babe & honey only when nobody is around (or where nobody knows them), and Tweek didn't question it shows Craig frequently does so?
It's genuinely adorable that Craig pretends to be a tough guy when friends are around, but he is a sweet talker who always uses pet names in private🥺
And before headcanons, I need to talk more about Tweek in TFBW.
I know this can turn morbid, but still it's kinda cute to me that Tweek concentrates on Craig's attention and affection so much (maybe cause no one ever really listen and help him deal with his anxiety) so that he often required love actions whether they are alone or not. such as:
Super Craig: Wow that was the coolest storm ever.
Wonder Tweek: I'm good at storms too, right, Super Craig?
Super Craig: Yes, Tweek. You're the best at storms.
Super Craig: Hey! That was my sidekick!
Wonder Tweek: Your sidekick? What!
Super Craig: Come on....you know what I mean.
I don't have valid evidence of their daily interaction to compare with above dialogues, neither nor to prove my opinion. Though I suppose we got two reasons to explain Tweek's behavior.
(1) They were fighting/making up with each other just a few minutes ago, so he needs to check more than usual. (and jealous more too)
(2) They are playing role-play, and he had immersed in the story
(Wonder Tweek: Super Craig! No! I can't live without you!)
But I am afraid this embarrassed Craig XD
So, as mentioned above and thanks to Post Covid, now I headcanon adult Craig not only in private but also get used to showing his love in public.
As time goes by, he becomes absolutely gross, like he usually uses a bunch of pet names, holds hands/physically touches, says sweet words which make others murmur that "Craig that's so gross" "Get a room!" "Why should I experience this???"
For instance, when they are in their twenties, Tweek feels sorry about Craig didn't get enough sleep because of him, and it affects his height.
but Craig is like: Nah it's fine, I can kiss you easily from here.
In this house we stand for overly romantic adult Craig😤😤😤
(My friend said that some posts talked about it’s a shame that Craig didn't grow as tall as his dad. But, I think this makes sense considering how often he was woken up by Tweek in the middle of the night.)
(btw I'm not sure which word can perfectly replace "overly romantic" with a more natural or colloquial tone, will "cheesy" fit? I'll be very grateful if someone is willing to teach me!)
Meanwhile, Tweek goes "oh, ok, thanks Craig" like he totally used to bathe in his husband's love and affection, which make him feel secure and comfortable.
Idk It's funny to me Craig always called Honey/Babe/Sweetheart/Sugar......, and Tweek just oh hi Craig.
And honestly, I appreciate Tweek like this.
He is described as panicked and worried about their relationship, about Craig leaving/hates him by many authors, and sure I enjoyed those incredible works.
But somewhere in my brain is "What if it's completely opposite? as if their relationship and Craig's love are most reliable and certain things in his life?"
I got some headcanons/scenarios want to share, but probably next time since I talk too much again, and I was supposed to prepare my reports and presentation so 😢 bye...
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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years
Text
Obedient (Rewritten)
Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader
***18+ Fic***
You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.
Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.
Word Count: 6.6 k
Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!
You can find the original here.
Enjoy~
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“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.
It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.
At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.
You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.
Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.
As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.
You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.
“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.
You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.
It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.
“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.
“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.
“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.
But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.
“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.
“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.
“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.
“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.
“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.
“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.
“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.
“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.
“Pretty is also a word I wouldn���t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.
They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.
“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.
“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.
“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.
“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.
The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.
“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.
Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.
“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.
It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.
“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.
The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.
Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.
When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.
“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.
“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.
“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.
“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.
“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.
You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.
You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.
Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.
Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.
“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.
“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.
“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.
“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.
“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.
“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.
You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.
“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.
Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.
“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.
The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.
He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.
“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.
“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.
“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”
The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.
Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.
You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.
But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.
Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.
Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.
*
***3 months later***
*
A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.
Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.
Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.
But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.
In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.
As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.
You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.
The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.
And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.
Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.
You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.
“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”
“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.
“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.
“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.
“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.
“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.
“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.
The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.
It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.
After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.
Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.
“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.
Click.
You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.
Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.
“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.
Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.
You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.
“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.
Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.
“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.
“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.
You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.
When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.
After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.
“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.
“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.
“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.
“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.
Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.
He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.
Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.
“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.
Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.
“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.
They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.
Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.
“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.
“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.
You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.
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moon3thereal · 3 years
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Hey, i have a natasha x reader request. So Natasha is a very composed person always know what to do and basically everybody is terrified of the ex-assassin. But when she sees you for the first time she gets so flustered and ends up stuttering over her words, and it doesn’t stop every time she sees you her cheeks will turn red and and don’t know what to do, but it’s worse when you will compliment her or tease her, she will blush so hard when you “accidentally touch her” or throw a suggestive joke at her. The avengers will tease her relentless because of this because she is so lovestruck even in important meetings they will tease her to embarrass her in front of fury. Fluffy ending where reader kisses Nat and a very flustered and happy Nat after.
Title: Forbidden Rendezvous
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Genre: fluff
Warnings: none but if you find any do lmk
a/n: thank you for the req! I enjoyed writing this one very much and i hope you guys like it <3
1.4k
Natasha Romanoff, the black widow herself, seemingly had a reputation to uphold. She was cold, ruthless, efficient, her instinct uncannily accurate. In short, she was one of the best agents in S.H.I.E.L.D if not the best. The Avenger was also pretty much the most stone-faced, cold-heartedly composed person in the world. She was a force to be reckoned with
That all went to hell when she met you, it was an avengers meeting, to be acquainted with the newest recruit to the Avengers initiative, all the Avengers had been told was that this recruit was a she and that she was one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s most elite agents and was probably here to babysit them and keep them out of trouble.
Which is why Natasha never expected someone like you to walk into the room, back straight, with the same elegant strut she’d found herself using more often than not. There was an air of composure around you, people could take one look at you and know that they shouldn’t mess with you. You had somehow managed to look daintily pretty but if they looked carefully at your posture, ready to attack should a threat arise, highly dangerous.
Once Natasha’s eyes landed on you, she couldn’t seem to tear them away, she was completely fixated on you, all the way from the door to when you took your place in an unoccupied seat with a bright smile on your lips that were painted just the right shade of red. Natasha studied the way a few strands of your hair fell out of your ponytail and curled around your jaw perfectly, framing your face. The way your lips parted to speak, presumably to introduce yourself, the Russian was put in a trance and there was an awkward silence when it was her turn to introduce herself
Clint, who was sitting next to her, raised an eyebrow at the dreamy look on her face and had to nudge her twice before she jumped slightly, startled and glared at him, he gestured to you and Natasha’s expression of indignation morphed to one of embarrassment and back to her original neutrality. You had noticed Natasha’s lingering stare on you, not the stare you’d seen her use on so many interrogatees and victims of her wrath, this stare was softer, almost like she was captivated by you
After a solid five seconds of Natasha pulling herself together, she extended her hand to you with a soft “hi, Natasha Romanoff” and before you had the chance to introduce yourself, she said “I mean, I’m Natasha Romanoff, you’re y/n y/l/n, I didn’t, I know you’re not Natasha Romanoff” The Avengers all had looks of astonishment on her face, she was always composed, even in the worst situations, none of them had ever seen her like this. Damn you Natasha she thought, she had absolutely no idea why her brain was short circuiting like this, it had never happened before
You laughed lightly before extending your own and shaking hers that was slightly sweaty, “hi, nice to meet you” she nodded, evidently flustered. How can someone be this perfect she thought. She’d seen you training in S.H.I.E.L.D quarters a few times but since she spent most of her time in the Avengers compound now, she’d never seen you up close.
After the meeting, which she hadn’t paid attention to anything else but the crease in your brows when you were concentrating, the way you knew how to disagree without offending the other individual, how intelligent you were, within the 2 hours you had joined the Avengers you had already solved a major problem with ease
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It had been a month since that day, you were settled in the compound, you had a room to yourself, and you found it pretty comfortable, you’d gone on a few minor missions, nothing serious. You were already enjoying their company and was getting used to the new environment. But you enjoyed Natasha’s company most, from what you know and what you heard, she was supposed to be an extremely dangerous individual, but around you, she was an absolute klutz and also the most adorable person you’ve met.
All the interactions between you too had always ended up in Natasha blushing furiously and you adoring how her cheeks got all rosy and her face would turn the same fiery red of her hair when you casually threw a suggestive comment her way, basically you both being absolutely whipped for each other and refusing to admit it first
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You were hacking into a computer system with Tony’s tech when Steve said “there’s no way you can pull that off, I know, I’ve tried” you simply scoffed, your hands flying over the keyboard typing in several coordinates “I’m y/n y/l/n, I can pull off everything” seizing the opportunity to once again fluster the redhead you pointed at her “including your clothes” just like you predicted, her cheeks immediately flushed red and a panicky chuckle fell from her lips
Steve rolled his eyes “see, according to you, I’m a million year old fossil, but still, even I can see that you are completely and irrevocably in love with her” you had successfully hacked into the system and pumped your fists triumphantly, transferring the information into a hard drive “I never said I wasn’t Rogers” you said sending a wink Natasha’s way and ‘accidentally’ brushing her bare arm lightly with yours as you passed by earning yourself a nervous squeak from her
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Even in important meetings, Natasha was often caught giving you heart eyes, like this one right now, Fury was staring at her waiting for her to give him a plethora of solutions like she normally would. This time however, she was busy staring at you and were practically making out with you with her eyes. Fury cast his glance around the avengers silently inquiring as to what happened to his best agent. “she’s infatuated with her new girlfriend” tony said
The abrupt voice snapped Natasha out of her thoughts and she sent him her killer glare “I am not” knowing chuckles reverberated around the meeting room, even you let out a soft laugh at her obliviousness. “Did you know that Romanoff let y/n borrow her motorbike?” Clint said in a faux conspiratory voice. The director’s eyebrows shot up “is that so?” one corner of his lips quirked up in a smirk
“So what if it is, its just a bike” Natasha tried to act nonchalant but the flush in her cheeks betrayed her. “Ah look, the adoptive murder daughter has found love” tony said sarcastically “I will cause you pain in ways you can’t even imagine” Natasha gritted out. Taking pity on her, you snapped your fingers “Okay okay, this has been fun, but back to the tesseract?”
After the meeting, and more relentless teasing, resulting in an extremely irritable Natasha, she had pulled you aside into an empty store room “ooh is this our forbidden rendezvous” you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively. Even in the dark, you could swear that Natasha was blushing like she always did even if you so much as looked at her
“no this is me apologizing on behalf of the team and what they said back there, it was disrespectful-” catching your quirked eyebrow and look of amusement indicating that you were in fact not at all offended by the team’s teasing and she was the only one amongst all of them that didn’t know you had feelings for her too. Deciding to be bold for once, she smirked “it could be our forbidden rendezvous though”
You smiled and closed the distance between you. You could feel her breath hitch when she noticed how close you were, how she could tilt her head slightly and her lips would meet yours, how much she wanted to feel your lips on hers. So that’s exactly what she did, when your lips touched, it was just like how they described it in books. It ignited something resembling a thunderstorm in you and you couldn’t acknowledge anything else except how her lips felt perfect against yours. You reached to run a hand through her crimson tresses, and when breathing became a difficulty she pulled away, ruffled and lips parted she smiled showing all her impossibly white teeth
“Who knew you were such a good kisser”
“Who knew you would ever get bold enough to find out”
Taglist: @phoenixofash @michelle-dsn @midgardianweasley @zolvaska @jokertgkk @yeeterthekeeper
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nesquik-arccheron · 2 years
Text
Call Me Yours (Part 3)
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Is this a masterpiece, no, far from it. Did I have fun writing this self-indulgent bs, yes! It is completely unbetad, and probably a mess, because I couldn’t stop myself from writing more than 10k+ even though I promised myself it wouldn’t be over 5k…and the constant changing of POV’s, so that’s fun. Also badly written, tastless smut. Probably forgot to tag some people because I'm forgetful. AO3 LINK
SUMMARY: With weeks having passed since Cassian’s induction into the royal guard, both Cassian and Nesta continue to battle with their ever growing feelings, and with Nesta and her mother remaining at odds about her future, Nesta concludes that if she is destined for a life that isn’t wholly hers, she will take what she can before time runs out. (TW: parental abuse)
<<<previous part I next part>>>
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It had been just over three weeks since Cassian had taken up his position as Nesta’s personal guard. Three long, difficult and draining weeks.
It hadn’t taken long for Cassian to realize that the Nesta he had met all those months ago, under the guise of a Nobel with a much lesser title, was not the same Nesta that he had been hired to watch over. At least in the sense of how she presented herself to the world.
The woman he knew was not lost, far from it, but kept safe behind the perfectly constructed mask of indifference she wore, topped with a frosty demeanour that could have even the most influential of men cowering before her.
It was a defence mechanism, something she had carefully put into place to protect the more vulnerable parts of herself. By need, not choice. A safeguard in a world run by men who wished to dominate the bleeding heart that lay deep under that protective layer, and it was obvious Nesta would do everything she could to not become a victim of those who wished to manipulate her.
It was a delicate balance born of necessity, and a difficult transition to become accustomed to, but he understood the need for her armour. So instead of getting in her way, at the risk of exposing her, Cassian chose to become her sword. A weapon she could wield for her own protection.
Though he chose to let her brandish him like a blade, he found she did not always require his sharp edge, her own tongue lashing swifter than any weapon in the face of a threat. But when she took off her pristine armour, he marvelled what lay beneath, thought sometimes it terrified him beyond words.
Because she was full of life behind her walls, a snowstorm trapped behind an otherwise calm demeanour, and she reminded him of everything he wanted, but could not have.
Sometimes he didn’t know what side of this elegantly built woman he found more difficult to balance. There was the perfectly poised princess, who exuded control and demanded respect, who the entirety of the court described as aloof and apathetic, and was so much more intelligent than even she realized. Then there was the side that only her closest allies seemed to be privy to. A girl who wished to have the freedom to express the plethora of emotions begging for release, who did not want to hide behind the facade of a cold hearted and unfeeling ruler, or be controlled by the demands that governed her life, behind the walls of a palace that had become her cage.
Because a cage was still a cage, no matter how pretty it was.
But that part of her that waited to be unleashed in the more private moments, came with another side, one that only seemed to come alive around him. She was more subtle in her advances than in their initial interaction. A lingering brush of her hand on his arm as she passed, prolonged eye contact that had him squirming at his post, the way she leaned just a little too close whenever she gave an instruction, her breath hot against the more sensitive skin of his ear. She was surprisingly good at the double entendre for someone who had been sheltered all her life.
The worst of it came at the dinner table, she loved to tease him in a room full of people, seeming to get the most enjoyment out of provoking him when he could do nothing about it.
The way her tongue lapped and swirled around her spoon as she enjoyed her dessert was especially provocative. The visual demonstration of what that pretty mouth of hers could do would have been incredibly appealing, if he wasn’t trying too hard to not give in to the part of him that wanted to replace that spoon with his own cock.
Cassian found it rather amusing how forward she could be, given the circumstances surrounding their first encounter. She hadn’t been able to conceal the blush that spread across her cheeks at the lewd language he had used to describe the offending appendage, yet here she was licking and moaning around a spoon to mimic an activity, that to his knowledge, she had never experienced.
On good nights he would resist the long list of reasons why he couldn’t give in, why he needed to maintain a professional relationship with the women he was bound to protect. On the bad ones, he found himself flopping exhausted onto his plush bed, pleasuring himself to the thoughts of her hands and the sound of her gasps and moans as he brought himself over the edge. It didn’t help that his imagination didn’t have to work too hard to produce such fantasies, as he had first hand experience with the way her skin felt beneath his hands and lips, the way she withered under him and the way her body shook as she came.
He had more bad days than good.
While his nights were filled with thoughts of a more carnal nature, his days were spent in silent observation. Not of threats, but of her. Over the few weeks they had spent in each other’s company, Cassian had come to realize there was much more to the future queen than he ever imagined. Nesta was brilliant, passionate, with an overwhelming need to prove herself. She spent hours in the castle's many luxurious libraries, pouring over books, maps, treaties, absorbing every detail until it was committed to memory. There were days when he watched her eyes slowly close from exhaustion and others where she was so consumed by the tiny print that littered the pages of the books she read that he couldn’t get her attention.
The most curious of habits he had noted was her presence outside of her father's study, or rather a tunnel that overlooked the study from behind a tapestry within an alcove. He felt guilty, about strong arming Feyre into revealing where she was, convincing the youngest princess that her sister could potentially be in danger, but he did what he had to do in order to fulfil his duty.
It wasn’t obvious at first, what exactly she was doing, but he soon came to realize she was listening in on her father’s private conversations with his counsel. She could be punished for this, both of them would be if discovered, but it was hard to deny her when her intentions were so pure. The overwhelming need to know more, to educate herself on every faucet about the kingdom she would inherit. To gather the information neither of her parents deemed her worthy of knowing.
She never ceased to amaze him, to leave him in awe of her.
The worst part was as the days went on, and he learned more about her, the more her advances were not so unwelcome.
He was becoming far too comfortable in her presence, and he knew he was playing with fire when he began to allow her to push the boundaries of their relationship more and more. Cassian felt as if he could feel the scorching heat of Devlon’s disappointment prickling at the back of his neck, his voice so clear it was like he was standing beside him, explaining in great detail everything wrong with the situation. How there was no good outcome for either of them, that the only thing awaiting both of them at the end of this road was a matching pair of broken hearts.
He knew the voice in the back of his head was his own, but he found it easier to ignore if he imagined it came from someone else. Though there was no denying the truth it spoke, there was no scenario where Cassian ended up standing beside her at the end of it all. Nesta, who was a princess, one who cared deeply for her people as she was kept at arm's length from them. Nesta, who would one day become a queen who would be more than just a pretty decoration on the arm of her husband. She would be no figurehead, she would be a leader who would be remembered throughout history.
And Cassian, never at her side, but three steps behind her. Where he belonged.
Eventually, the liberties he had taken with his boundaries came to a head one cool summer day. Nesta had just finished afternoon tea with her mother and yet another one of the many men her mother forced her to entertain. The man in question was a respectable young Lord, around the same age as Cassian himself, but had the pompous attitude of a Nobleman who had never learned an ounce of respect for women, and the personality of a piece of unseasoned chicken.
Cassian could see her mood souring quickly with every second she was forced to sit through the fake pleasantries and invasive questions. When he had inquired about her virginity, Nesta almost turned the table over in a fit of rage. Her mother’s oppressive glare was the only thing that kept her from leaping out of her seat and strangling the man. Cassian felt his own anger spike, but years of extensive training gave him the ability to keep his face neutral, bottling up the tension to release it safely in the confines of the training ring at a later date.
Nesta had her own way to release her frustration, more often than not rousing him from sleep to accompany her on an early morning horse ride through the forest adjacent to the castle. It had a great calming effect on her, the quiet of the forest similar to the calm that overtook him in the sparing ring as he lunged and swung at his opponent.
She was a vision of beauty on horseback. Hair cascading down her back as her braid came loose, the wind carrying the fresh scent of vanilla and jasmine right to his nostrils. The look of pure bliss that spread across her face the deeper they ventured into the forest was worth the lack of sleep. The first time he heard her laugh, the sound a shock to his system as he watched her mare leap over a fallen tree trunk, did he fully understand the effect that riding had on her. The melodic sound reverberated off the trees and straight through his body, warming him from the inside out as he tried to keep up with her breakneck speed.
He had never missed a day to ride with her since.
A ride was Cassian’s exact intention when he sought her out later that day after she had so elegantly stomped off once dismissed from tea. She was prone to explode on anyone and removing her from the castle was the best option. It was better to stop the warpath she was on than let her simmer in anger. So, he had made the executive decision to send word with one of the servants to let the stable boy know to prepare their horses.
He had contemplated requesting a light arrangement of fresh-cut fruit to take along with them, as she had not eaten a lick of anything since their morning meal, but regarding her posture as he approached her in the centre of the flower garden, he had made the right decision not to.
Cassian watched as his princess paced in the centre of the high walled maze in the heart of the luscious palace garden. It was one of her most favoured hideouts, as she was completely shielded among the swirling towers of viny morning glories and high walled rose bushes, the gazebo in the centre providing complete privacy, even from the sun.
It was far too difficult for the majority of people to navigate, so she frequented the space often. No matter how much it made her eyes water and nose run.
Cassian made sure to make his presence known as he met her in the centre of the small enclosed space. He could tell she was angry by the way her shoulders locked up, could hear the steady release of a breath exit her as she attempted to keep her voice steady, “Out of all the choices that have been taken from me, I wish the decision of who I would marry wouldn’t be one of them.”
Cassian didn’t know what to say, for he agreed with her statement, but he could not find the words to comfort her. Royals, especially of her stature, rarely married for love. Such unions were typically arranged by the elder family members, sometimes even from birth. They married for power, for financial gain, for reputation, but never love.
“Why must the choice of who I must spend my life with be up to the judgment of the court, of my mother?” She still did not look to him and he did not force the matter.
He had bore witness to many of Nesta’s emotions, he knew her anger, her distaste, even the mischievous side that would make appearances at the most inopportune times. Her cunning and playful demeanour that would sometimes come out to play, were his particular favourites. It was the more vulnerable ones that she tended to keep closer to her heart. She was hurting now and did not wish for him to see it, “Maybe I wish to never marry.”
Her entire life she had been taught to be strong, unfeeling, cold. Cassian felt greedy in wishing she would let her guard down completely with him, but it wasn’t in her nature to depend on anyone.
“I won't even get to rule, Cassian,” she said, finally facing him. He took in her face, stoic as ever, but her eyes always gave away her inner turmoil. “I will never be anything but a decoration on my husband's arm. I spend day after day pouring over books, playing pretend, but I know that I will never be worth more than the price of my womb.”
He could see her armour cracking, with the inability to stop her fists from clenching or the glassy look in her eye. It was all the proof he needed to know the weight of everything was beginning to crush her, “Maybe I will fall in love with whatever dashing Prince, Duke or Lord my mother picks for me, maybe he will sweep me off my feet and we will ride into the sunset like every princess is destined to do,” she continued, waving her arms to expel some of the pent up energy she was feeling. Cassian circled her slowly in approach, the need to be close, to comfort raging deep inside his chest.
“I doubt I would be so lucky, to feel anything towards someone that was forced upon me,” Nesta spat, and Cassian took note of the wording she had used and packed that away for later. Forced. Not arranged, not decided for, but forced. “I’ll probably end up in some socially acceptable marriage, with some male with no personality and a balding head, who will fuck me with his tiny cock until I’m round with his child than find himself some big breasted whore who pretends his little prick pleasures her because I refuse to lay and wither in fake theatrics while he ruts like some fat pig on top of me.” She didn't even flinch at the use of such crass language.
No amount of training could prepare Cassian to withstand the laugh that forced its way out at her colourful description. He sputtered and coughed to hide his amusement, looking down at his shoes in attempt to conceal his shame at finding delight in her obvious pain.
The tiny wet noise that erupted from the princess had him looking up to investigate. A small pained smile crossed her face, a single tear clinging to her lower lashes the only sign of her pain. Cassian had always had an overwhelming urge to protect those he loved, to comfort, but the intensity of it when it came to her was shocking. It took everything in him to not close the space between them, to crush her against his chest as she quickly wiped the tear with the sleeve of her dress. Embarrassment was the emotion she was trying to conceal, and he desperately wanted her to know she did not need to feel such things, especially around him.
“You probably think me some ungrateful child,” a sardonic smile touched her lips, “I will never want for anything, or know what it is like to have no home, or feel hunger, and here I am, whining about love of all things.”
It was a morbid laugh that fell from her lips as she closed the space between them, leaning her forehead against his broad chest. He debated with himself, if he should reach out for her, his hands dangling uselessly at his side waiting for instruction.
He couldn’t resist taking in the scent of her hair as she leaned against him, the fresh perfume of her shampoo mingling in with the fragrant flowers surrounding them, “No, people are people, no matter what title they hold.”
He could feel her hands curl into the material of his casual leathers, and there was no doubt her nails would leave imprints in the expensive material. Cassian placed his hand over hers without thought, rubbing small circles into the soft skin of her hand, the motion relaxing the tense muscles, allowing him to intertwine their fingers. How could he have ever thought he could refuse her, or want to, “There are just some desires that are universal, and you are no different. Do not feel ashamed of how you feel when those choices are taken from you.”
Cassian's heart thumped when she finally locked eyes with him through a veil of thick lashes, the shock of the dispirited look he saw within them was enough to make him stumble, “As accurate as those words maybe,” she said, squeezing his hand to find her ground. He didn’t miss the flicker from his lips back to his eyes as she spoke, “My ability to fulfill those desires is an impossible feat.”
He knew what she meant, because he felt it too. Wanted it just as much.
“But what if you could?” He asked without thinking, pushing the repercussions of such a statement out of his mind. It was self-indulgent, stupid, but it was hard to think straight when she was so close, “What would you do if you had the freedom to take whatever you wanted?”
An expression he had never seen on her before crossed her features, and she blinked once, twice, another flicker to his lips and back, “I think we both know the answer to that…” she trailed off, taking her lip between her teeth, mulling over how to proceed after such a statement.
Cassian didn’t have time to offer a rebuttal as she wrapped her free hand around the back of his neck, bringing him down to her level as she propelled herself upwards to meet him on the tips of her feet. It would be a lie if Cassian said he was shocked by the action. He had practically baited her with the question, and given their shared history and the tension building between them, their current position seemed to be the only probable outcome.
He did not fight the bruising pace of the kiss, fully content leaning into it, allowing her to use him as she pleased. It was closer to an outer body experience than he ever anticipated, the feel of her, the way she smelled, the sounds she made, the need to just be. He could recount the music, the dancing, the flirtatious banter of that night, but to finally feel the weight of her against him was more exquisite than the memories he had. It was pure self indulgence, on both ends, the desperate need to return to that place where rules and ranks did not linger above them like a dark storm cloud.
It was easy for Cassian to fall into the moment, the press of her lips, the feel of her tongue as she demanded entrance, sliding into his mouth with minimal resistance. Nesta was far too proud to be anything less than confident in her abilities, no matter how clumsy and unpracticed she was, fumbling awkwardly over his cheeks, his teeth, clashing their tounges together in a rhythmless dance as if she was trying to commit the taste, the feel of him to memory.
He was far too gone to hold in the groan as she pressed herself flush against his body, he was drunk on her, and he no longer had control over his movements as he wrapped her completely in his arms. He was content to be used by her, and if she wanted to be pressed so close that there was no way to differentiate between their bodies, he would follow her command.
He wanted her more than he ever wanted anything, and for a moment, he let himself believe he could have just that.
Both were so caught up in each other, that they did not hear the approaching footsteps from the entrance of the small enclosed area. A cough came from behind as he reached to thread his fingers through her hair, itching to release the silky strands from the tight braid. The couple jumped apart at the sound, Cassian stumbling as Nesta pushed against his chest to put as much space between them. He didn’t mention that such a thing wasn’t needed, they had already been caught.
“I don’t think I need to tell you how stupid you both are?”
Feyre.
Cassian had never been so grateful as to see the youngest princess. If they were to be caught by anyone, they were lucky it was her.
Nesta brushed the wrinkles from her skirts nonchalantly, straightening her back in the way he had become accustomed to when she felt threatened. It was an illusion, to make herself feel bigger, her body language telling the perpetrator she would not be intimidated. It was a learned mannerism, one she no doubt picked up from her mother, and his least favourite gesture. It sent a primal feeling to his brain to protect, but Feyre was no threat.
“What are you even doing here, shouldn’t you be with Alis for your lessons?”
“I’m on a break, but don’t try and divert the conversation, I’m not the one who was caught doing something stupid,” Feyre shot back, giving her sister a look the other may be proud of if it wasn’t directed at her. “Nesta, you know how dangerous this is, and not just for you. Think about what could happen to Cassian, you were lucky it was me, but what if it was someone else, like one of the servants, the guards, or worse, mother.”
He saw the hitch in Nesta’s breath at the mention of her mother, the only visible reaction of her distress.
Feyre and Nesta were almost a carbon copy of each other, the only difference was that Nesta stood about 2 inches over her sister. Though the olders features were more severe, when Nesta allowed herself to relax, she mirrored her youngest sister right down to the shade of their steel-blue eyes.
“Maybe, you should learn to keep out of others' business, you’re so nosy, you’re worse than Lady Ianthe,” Nesta drawled.
Feyre rolled her eyes, “If you are so easily caught by me, I’m sure Lady Ianthe will know by dawn. I wouldn’t complain, I could use a break.”
They both laughed, an uneasy peace settled in. “Look Nesta, I know I’m the last person you will listen to, if anything, whatever advice I lend will propel you to do the exact opposite,” Cassian couldn’t help but agree. “But just remember your actions have consequences, and not just for you,” her eyes flashing to Cassian for emphasis, “And I like him.”
Cassian nodded in thanks, not wishing to interrupt.
“Besides, things have been good since he came around, and there haven’t been any…incidents.”
The look Nesta gave her sister was enough to level even the rockiest of terrains. He could see the fire in her eyes spark to life, ready to devour anything and everything in its wake. He didn’t know what the two meant by incidents, but the mention of it had Nesta on high alert. Cassian took note of her posture, how it tensed, the slight intake of breath through her nose similar to the one at the earlier mention of her mother. He observed each and every movement as the sisters talked, packing it away at the back of his mind for later reference.
“I’m scared for you, and for him—if you both get caught,” Feyre paused, noticing her sister's stance as well. She sighed, “I’m just reminding you of risks here, Mama is already at her wits ends with finding you a possible husband, and you-know-who is still on the table for marriage,” The reminder made Nesta flinch, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Mama entertained your denial of the proposal, but she may lose what patience she has left if she gets wind of this.”
The silence between them was palpable, thick with the implication of the words Feyre spoke. “I want you to be happy, I do, but is it really worth it, for both of you?” Nesta looked away, to Cassian and back to her sister in thought. Cassian felt his heart deflate, and not only for himself. He had been through plenty in his life, and nothing the queen did to him could be worse than the brutality of life at the camps.
His concern lay with her. This would be a scandal, one her mother would not tolerate or allow. Nesta was to marry a prince, someone worthy of her status. Bastards did not marry princesses.
“Feyre?” Came a soft voice from within the maze of flowers, drawing the group's attention.
“Just be careful,” Feyre told Nesta pointedly, as if she was the older sibling giving orders, “Please.”
“There are you,” the voice came again, this time from behind them, revealing Mor, Feyre’s Lady-In-Wait. “You ran through the maze so quickly, I can’t for the life of me find my way back.”
Good, Cassian thought, he liked that this was his and Nesta’s spot, somewhere they could be alone in a castle where there were eyes on them 24/7. Nesta didn’t seem surprised Feyre had found them so easily, but Nesta knew all of Feyre’s secret tunnels. So did Cassian, it was his job, but neither of them knew that.
“Nesta,” Mor said, her voice icier than before when she spotted the other princess. Cassian still hadn't figured out their relationship, or the disdain they both felt for each other, but the tension was obvious.
A nod was the only acknowledgement she gave the blonde. Mor gave a small huff before addressing Feyre, “It’s time to return to lessons, Alis will kill me if we are late, again.” It was often one would find Mor running through the castle, trailing after Feyre, trying to return her to the room where the girls had their lessons with Alis. As the youngest, Feyre had the least amount of responsibility to the crown, so she took her lessons less seriously than her two older sisters.
“Come,” the blonde said, dragging Feyre from the clearing, looking around confused as she tried to navigate her way out, “How will we ever get out of here, how did you even find this place?” Cassian heard them as they turned the corner, Feyre giving Nesta one last look before doing so.
Neither of them moved until they heard their voices disappear completely, swallowed up by the walls of perfectly trimmed rose bushes. It was hard for both of them to find the words, to talk about what truths Feyre had reminded them of. So Cassian said the only thing he could think of, to allow them both some breathing room, “Do you want to go for a ride?”
Nesta finally looked over to him, a bitter smile on her face, “Yes.”
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The next month went on as usual, with almost daily horseback rides through the forest, with Cassian watching Nesta study and Nesta pretending she didn’t notice, scared that if she mentioned it he would back away from her. She had even begun to teach him how to play chess. He was better at the game than she anticipated, a quick learner she mused, but his war training was perfect for this type of game. It was all strategy, anticipating your opponent's next move and knowing when you must play the offensive or defensive to come out victorious.
Nesta found she began to become more aware of his presence after that initial kiss they shared in the garden. Many more had followed, along with stolen moments in the corridors, subtle smiles shared at tea when a suitor made a particularly irritating comment, longing looks at dinner as he watched her eat from his position on the far wall. Feyre got into the habit of kicking her sister under the table when her eyes lingered on his far longer than socially acceptable.
She took every opportunity to corner him, refusing not to grab the bull by the horns, or rather Cassian by the neck, when at all possible. There were many hidden areas within the castle, and she knew every one of them. So did Gwyn, which was how her best friend found out about their little escapades, having come across them as Nesta pushed Cassian against the wall, body hovering over his as she leaned up on her toes to kiss him. Gwyn had found it particularly funny, how Cassian, a man that stood at minimum a head over his princess, had been trapped between her and the wall. She did not fail to mention how much it looked like he enjoyed it.
That night Gwyn had demanded a sleepover, forcing Nesta to go over every single detail of their love affair. It didn’t take much, they laughed and gossiped over a mountain of tiny cakes and pastries from the kitchen late into the night. After that day, Gwyn made every excuse to poke Cassian about it, and Nesta made no move to stop her friend, even when he begged her to. She found she liked the way his cheek set aflame whenever Gwyn made kissy faces at him, fluttered her eyes lashes, or flashed him a suggestive grin whenever they interacted.
Elain was the only one who Nesta could not tell. It wasn’t that she would rat her out, Elain was loyal to a fault to her sisters, but she could easily be manipulated by their mother. It was a risk she couldn’t take, and she hated not telling her sister. They told each other everything and Nesta couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt every time she saw her. But she had to protect herself, and especially Cassian. She knew what her mother would do if she got a wif of this, and it terrified her to her core, and if lying was the worst of her transgressions, she would take it.
It was a particularly hot day, even under the shade of the pavilion in the centre of the garden, when she noticed a change in him. Tea was put aside and replaced with cold water with fresh lemon to keep them cool. They were having a game of chess, Nesta having recognized Cassian’s lacklustre mood the days previous, but it was particularly worse today. She did not like the way his eyes seemed dimmer, the light slowly sparking out, so she had suggested a game to take his mind off his worries, but he did not react to her heckling as he lost game after game.
If she could not get his attention with taunts and teasing, maybe her body would catch his observant eye. She sighed heavily as she waited for Cassian to make his move, the gesture causing her breasts to push against the material of her dress, and she leaned forward, reaching for her fan to cool her skin.
“It’s so hot out today, isn’t it?” She asked, pushing down the v of her dress to expose more skin, flushed red from the heat. She knew it was a desperate move, maybe a little tacky, but she was desperate to wipe that despondent look on his face and make his cheeks as red as her chest.
Nesta pouted, the childish move making her chest fall and shoulder slump. Instead of letting the bratty urge to whine take hold, angry that he wouldn’t pay attention to her, she took the time to look at him. What she had assumed from the beginning as a worried soldier, looked more like a sad child. There was something different in his eyes than she was used to when he displayed worry. Cassian was still taking guidance from Devlon, and often showed signs of apprehension over his ability to fulfil it. It more often appeared when he was reading over reports and trying to make sense of it, or going over training routines for the guards within the palace. It was like a white flag of surrender, letting her know he was reaching his breaking point and could use a distraction. And Nesta learned quickly, that she was a great distraction.
The look that was present now was much more sombre, longing for something that he couldn’t have, but it wasn’t her. It was almost like he was missing something he had once had but lost, like he was in mourning. She hated it, the feeling surprising her. She had become protective over the man, and that need to shield him from whatever was causing such distress was powerful, so powerful it physically hurt her.
“Cassian,” she said, lightly at first as to not startle him out of whatever trance he was in as he continued to stare blankly at the pawn before him. “Cassian,” a little lowered this time.
The third and final time had Nesta leaning over the board, using her fan to guide his chin, forcing him to look at her, “Cassian.”
He blinked once, twice before leaning back and clearing this throat like he hadn’t been a million miles away not moments ago, “Sorry, just can’t figure out my next move.” The excuse was flimsy, there were at least three different moves he could make, all obvious, she had left her King wide open, and as Cassian observed the board, he knew it too.
“Sorry,” he apologized, rubbing his hands over his face in an exhausted gesture, “A lot to think about, what with Devlon breathing down my neck and-“
“I know you’re lying,” she cut him off, moving his piece on the chessboard before making her move, knocking down her King, a visual representation of her earlier statement and giving him no reason to focus his attention elsewhere. “You’re not the only one who can read people,” she said proudly, though he was the only person besides Gwyn whom she understood their nonverbal communication deeper level than what she needed in court.
“Tell me,” she demanded.
Cassian sighed, mulling over what he would reveal, “It’s just…it’s not important, nothing you need to worry about.”
“Why do you do that?” She questioned him, folding her arms across her chest to look more authoritative.
“What?”
“Make your problems seem small, like they don’t matter,” she told him bluntly, trying not to smirk at the surprised look on his face as he blinked dumbly.
“You do,” Nesta spoke again as he prepared to come at her with an excuse as he opened his mouth, “So just tell me.”
She did not break eye contact, daring him to deny her. Cassian entangled his fingers in his hair, the leather wrapped around it falling from it, sweaty curls loose around his shoulders, “It’s just been a while since I saw my family, the longest I’ve been away from them…” he trailed off, almost embarrassed.
Nesta felt a pang of guilt deep inside of her at the omission. How had she never considered that he had a family, a group of people that loved him and raised him? He did not enter this world as a warrior, but a child who had people around him that would care for him, even if he grew up in the camps. He never talked about them, he had mentioned friends and acquaintances, but he never mentioned a mom, a dad, siblings, but how self-involved was she that she never considered he had a family?!
“Don’t look like that,” he laughed, the first laugh in three days, “Don’t feel guilty because I did not divulge such things, I’m trying to keep this relationship professional.”
It was Nesta’s turn to laugh, loudly and boisterously, “I think we are way past that, Cassian.”
“I suppose your right,” he said, joining in on her laughter.
“Why don’t you tell me about them,” she asked after a moment, setting up the chessboard to begin a new game, he would need something to play with to expel his nervous energy. She had noticed over the last month or so that he was a fidgeter.
So he talked, and talked, and talked, the brightness slowly returning to his face as he mapped out what she had come to understand was a found family. He didn’t know his father, nor the mother who gave birth to him, Devlon having told him that she had died in childbirth. She felt even more respect for the cranky old man for taking in a child that wasn’t his, for finding him a home with Nemea and her son Rhysand. He spoke of them so fondly it made her heart swell with her own love for her sisters. He told her of his brothers, and she found out he was the oldest among them, Azriel and Rhys following him in that order, all while strategically moving the pieces on the board that had her struggling to keep up. He told her about the smithy shop and Emerie, who he thought of as a sister. The fondness in his voice was evident, the love he had for the girl so obvious that Nesta reminded herself she did not need to be jealous, they were friends, she told herself.
His face became saddened when he spoke of Elira, Rhysand’s sister and how she had died a few years back from tuberculosis. Nesta placed her hand upon his in what she believed was a comforting gesture before removing it, unsure of herself. Her heart stopped when he grabbed her hand as she retreated, rubbing his thumb over the back in a silent thank you before letting go.
They finished the rest of the game in comfortable silence, the birds and the soft breeze of the summer air coming through the gaps in the bushes the only sound. Cassian had won by a long shot, obliterating her far easier than she liked, and she bit her lip as a smile threatened to find its way to her face as he shuffled in his seat in a happy dance.
Gods, she liked him far more than she should allow herself to, far more than it was proper to given the circumstances. So she did not know what possessed her to suggest what came next, but she wanted to make him happy. It was important to her to an extent that surprised her, “Do you want to invite them for tea, they could stay the night in the castle, you can spend time with them, show them the gardens, the trails…”
The suggestion made her flush, and she took out her fan once again to hide her reaction, thankful for the heat of summer. She did not usually go out of her way for people like this, but he was different. Cassian looked taken aback by the suggestion, not expecting such an invitation. It was shortsighted of her, having not cleared it first, her mother was always hyper-aware of every person in the castle at all times and would notice unwanted guests. Nesta was not sure how she would react, but she was willing to grovel to the women to get this to happen if it made the man in front of her happy. The thought shocked her.
“Really?” He asked, excitement clear on his face. Oh, she would be grovelling alright.
“Yes, we can send word to them right away—if you wish,” she corrected herself, not wanting to seem too eager.
“Yeah, I mean yes, I’ll write it as soon as we get back to the library,” he said, leg bouncing.
“Why wait, it’s far too hot to be outside,” she suggested, standing and waiting for Cassian to follow, “Let’s do it now.”
“Okay,” he said getting up, far too quickly and knocking his knee into the table, almost spilling the chess pieces onto the ground.
He would be the end of her, a beautifully blissful end. The lengths she realized she would go for him, the things she would do to make him happy would never cease to surprise her. She was willing to bend her back until she broke, the smile on his face worth any punishment she may receive from her mother.
He was worth every risk, and she was willing to take them all.
—————
Her ears were ringing, the sound reverberating through her head making it pound as her mother stood before her. She couldn’t hear what she was saying, all she could comprehend was that her mother was once again disappointed in her, the only reason she hadn’t lashed out and physically struck her was the man standing behind her.
She met Cassian’s eyes, his expression stoned faced, but she could tell by the downturn of his mouth he was hating this as much as she was, but propriety held him back. There was no good outcome of him defending her against his queen, and it was best for both of them to keep quiet until her mother was done with her verbal tongue lashing.
“I have never been so embarrassed, Duke Koschei will no doubt tell the entries of the court of your display,” her mother raved, throwing a hand over eyes dramatically, “I cannot believe you threw tea in his face, think of your reputation Nesta, all my hard work, ruined!”
Nesta kept her face the definition of neutrality, but inside she wanted to laugh at her mother's theatrics. In another life, she would have been the star of those plays that travelled throughout the country. She would be cast as The Mother, saying that the part of the goddess was the only role appropriate for her, and revel in the flowers and applause that were thrown at her, ever the centre of attention.
“Mama, Duke Koschei is older than father!” Nesta countered, finally speaking after a solid five minutes of silence. “How could you expect me to bed someone who could be my grandfather?”
“You should show him respect someone of his age deserves,” Arianwen snapped, her neck growing unfalteringly splotchy as her temper rose, “As for his ag-“
“How am I to offer respect to a man who did nothing but stare at my breasts the entire meeting?” She interrupted, outraged by her mother's lack of understanding of her position.
“That is more than enough, Nesta,” Arianwen’s voice trembled, a sign that she was close to the edge, her breaking point. Cassian’s presence would not stop her mother from lashing out if she got to that point, “I have worked tirelessly to find you a suitable husband, and you have been nothing but an ungrateful brat. You are to be queen, and for you to sit upon the throne that is destined to be yours, you need a husband-“
“BUT WHY?!” Nesta yelled over her, unable to control the bubbling need to make her mother understand. How could she not understand when her own daughter was put in the same position she was once in as a child. “I am capable of taking my place on the throne on my own, I do not need a man to make me powerful, to make me worthy of my birthright.”
A shiver surged up her spine, a warning, one that came too late as her mother lunged for her. She latched her fingers onto her jaw, digging her boney fingers into her cheeks before she could say another word. There was fury in those cold eyes, burning with the same fire that Nesta had behind her own whenever she was angry. She felt sick that she resembled this woman so much, and let out a whimper of pain when her back met the wall, “If you know what is good for you, you will keep such ridiculous notions out of your head. It is better that you learn that now instead of playing pretend. You are a woman, know your place.”
From the corner of her eye, Nesta could see Cassian’s hand hover over the hilt of his sword but made no move to unsheathe it, the helplessness of the gesture hanging between them.
“Now, you will do as you are told,” the older of the two explained, “You will put on a smile and act appropriately for someone of your status, and you will show respect to the next suitor that will arrive this evening, just like I taught you.”
Her mother stared her down a moment longer before letting go of her face, her fingerprints no doubt would leave a mark, but nothing the powders she was provided couldn’t cover, “Do you understand?”
Nesta swallowed but met her mother's glare head on before nodding, refusing to show her any more weakness.
“Your words Nesta, you are not a simple child,” she reminded her daughter, basking in the unstable power dynamic that was on display. A mother towering over her child in an intimidating gesture. The tension was so thick Cassian looked like he would suffocate from the lack of oxygen.
“Yes, Mama,” Nesta finally said.
The disgusted look did not disappear from her mother’s face at the submissive gesture, “I’ll be around to retrieve you for dinner, have Gwyn dress you accordingly. Until then, I expect you to think about what I’ve told you. It is tiring, explaining away your impudent behaviour to these men, and if I must go through that humiliating experience one more time, we may have to revisit your basic training and trust me, Nesta, it will not be pleasant for either of us.”
It was a thinly veiled threat, not a suggestion, for her basic training would end with Nesta sporting more of her winter dresses to cover the result of that training. Nesta was so accustomed to these threats that she found the thought of sweating in her heavier dresses more uncomfortable than the pain inflicted against her skin.
She knew better than to argue and nodded again with another ‘Yes, Mama’ before her mother turned with all the grace of the queen she was, like she had not just threatened her daughter in front of the man she now faced.
Arianwen looked the guard up and down, eyes lingering on the hand now wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword and gave him a taunting smirk before walking past him and out the door.
Cassian’s nostrils flared, but his attention quickly diverted towards Nesta as she quickly walked past him without a word, following her mother's suit and taking a swift exit towards her rooms.
He followed after her, maintaining a respectable distance as they passed the many servants and palace staff among the halls. Cassian wanted to reach out, run his hands along her tense shoulders and soothe her rattled mind, but the lingering eyes that followed them, followed her, down the halls kept him at arm's length.
He wondered as to why she was leading him towards her rooms, he was more than willing to escort her on a ride midday. Given the previous events and her upcoming meeting with her next marriage prospect, she could use a bit of distressing. Another thought crossed his mind as he took in the most recent events, was the explosive interaction between Nesta and her mother the mysterious incidents Feyre had been referring to weeks ago in the garden, were these interactions a regular occurrence before he arrived, and what led to them coming to an end so suddenly?
When Nesta came to a complete stop in front of her door he was shaken from his thoughts, so deep in his own mind trying to decipher the enigma that was Nesta Archeron, he had not noticed they had made their way through the entirety of the castle.
No words were exchanged, Cassian unsure of what to say as Nesta turned and leaned against her door. The icy exterior she had carved for herself began to slowly melt away in the privacy of her many rooms, the doors and walls that surrounded her a solid shield of protection from judgmental eyes. Cassian felt his heart swell in the realization that he alone was here to witness the shedding of her armour.
“Are you okay?” He asked, the unamused smile that was her response was expected, given the circumstances of the last hour.
“I know, sorry,” he shook his head, realizing his mistake, of course she wasn’t okay, “Do you want to go for a ride?”
“No,” she said thoughtfully, pushing herself off the wall in a fluid predatory movement, the way her eyes scanned him had his body buzzing with the prospect of her next request, “I think I require something a little stronger, why drink water when you have perfectly good wine available?”
He was used to it by now, Nesta’s quick changing emotions. She made his head spin, but he recognized the look in her eyes now.
Though they were feet apart, Cassian felt the brush of her eyes over every inch of him, zoning in on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when the realization of her words hit him. He was the wine, and she was looking for something more than decorum allowed, but that did not stop the blood that rushed south at the invitation to make his cock swell at the prospect of tasting her.
“It’s not appropriate,” he reminded her, though it was useless and quite frankly pointless. Nesta did not listen to him—though the promise to stop at his command was made rather adamantly—he never told her no. How could he, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever come across, and he would be foolish to say no…he was foolish to not put a stop to it as well, but the moment her lips were on his he could not remember a single reason as to why.
Nesta sighed with a pout, “You say that all the time about our secret rendezvous, but it has not stopped you from being an active participant,” she reminded him, trailing a single finger down his chest, a coy smile on her face.
“Well,” she breathed, letting her finger linger a moment on his belt before letting it fall to her side in defeat at his lack of reaction, “My door will be left open, much like my invitation, General,” she told him before slipping into her chambers. There was no click of the lock.
General, Commander, Captain, all words she used liberally and exploited often. It was generally due to one of the three words that he found himself pressed against the nearest wall with her atop him. He cursed the day he allowed the words to affect him, his cock already swelling without his consent the moment it left her lips. He was pathetic.
‘Get a hold of yourself,’ he scolded, glancing down at his half erect cock, ‘You are a battle ready soldier, trained since birth to withstand the worst conditions and manipulations, you will not fall to your knees because some beautiful women addressed you by a title you worked hard for, you will not-‘ a moan cut through his pep talk. It was quiet, soft, but he heard it nonetheless. Was she even trying to be quiet?
He quickly found his answer as the gentle call of his name sliced through the large oak door like it was butter. Along with any self-respect or control he had left.
He didn’t remember telling his body to move forward, to swing open the door and fling himself into the room like a mad man. When he came to, all he could see in his line of vision was her, legs spread wide open at the end of her bed, hand buried between her thighs, disappearing beneath the fine tool of her skirts. He could smell her, not just the vanilla and jasmine scent that followed her around, but the heady scent of her arousal.
Cassian slammed the door shut with so much force both jolted, afraid the door may come off the hinges. He didn’t bother hiding his obvious need, there was no disguising how she affected him, no secrets left between their bodies, but he enjoyed the way her breath hitched in the back of her throat as she caught the outline of his cock against his pants.
The moan Nesta lets out as he clicks the lock has him releasing a growl deep in his throat. How does it feel to be the prey this time, he wants to ask as he stalks towards her until he stands tall before her open legs. The only sound between them now was Nesta’s breathing, and his cock twitched at the power he held over her now.
Cassian clicked his tongue when her legs began to close, grabbing onto her trembling knees and spreading her wide open for him again. With a swift tug, he threw up her dress, revealing her completely to him, wet and ready and wanting.
He did not break eye contact as he knelt before her, eyes hard and commanding, not wanting her to forget for one moment who held the power in this position, regardless of whom was kneeling.
Nesta was the first to look away, the action was not submissive, but intrigued when he took the hand between her legs and brought it to his lips. His hot mouth enveloped the digits in one slick movement, and she watched as they vanish behind thick lips. Her own mouth opened slightly at the sight, a soft moan escaping as his tongue slides between her fingers, sampling the heady taste of her.
Cassian swallowed thickly, humming in pleasure before releasing her fingers from his wet mouth, a string of liquid connecting them. The rise and fall of her chest sped up in time with her breathing, her breasts pushing uncomfortably against her bodice, but Cassian refused to be incised to look anywhere else but her face, loving every reaction he forced from her.
It was when Nesta’s gaze met his a second time that he knew he had won this round. When it came to their little game, Nesta had won, again and again, coercing Cassian to submit to her every whim, but when it came down to it, would she be all bark and no bite?
Placing a single kiss against the tips of her fingers, he gently led her hand back to the apex of her thighs, the digits dripping with his saliva, slipping slightly as he pressed them down against the sensitive bud. Nesta bit her lip, but it did nothing to muffle the breathless whimper the sensation provoked, “You were so adamant about that demonstration, so here I thought I would finally see the results of all those hours of practice.”
He saw her eyes dilate at his instruction, “So show me,” he pushed, urging her hand to move in tandem with his. Her head rolled to the side, eyes halve lid in pleasure as he whispered, “Show me exactly what makes you produce all those pretty little sounds, teach me how to serve my future Queen.”
The moan that left her lips was especially loud, her body going lax and falling completely against the plush bedding under her, lost in her pleasure.
Cassian observed her carefully, committing to memory every precise circle around her clit, the way she pressed a little harder as she reached the top making her hips thrust upward into her hand. The way she played with herself, dipping ever so slightly into her opening, just enough to wet her fingers and make her pussy clench in response, begging to be filled. He was mesmerized by every moan, how she enjoyed teasing herself to extract the most pleasure, and especially how much she seemed to love him watching her do so.
She had not been lying when she said she had practiced, and he wondered how many hours she had laid in this exact position and pleasured herself. Did she think about him, what he could or would do to her? She knew what she wanted, and he wanted to know every fantasy she pleasured herself to.
She knew her body so well, and he wanted to know it too. So he didn’t think when he pushed her hand aside, all that went through his mind was the need to taste, taste, taste.
An electric shock went up her body the moment his tongue pressed against her, and she felt her back lifting from the mattress in a deep arch, the feeling so intense she couldn’t help but scream. She didn’t care who heard her now, nothing mattered but the man currently between her legs.
Every cell in her body was ripe and swollen with need, her nerves filled with a fire so hot she imagined she may burst into flames at any moment with the intensity of the heat. She could feel her breasts swell, becoming fuller, heavier, the friction of her dress against her perked nipples suddenly became an unthinkable sexual torture device chafing her skin. Her corset was more binding than ropes or chains, restricting her airflow and making her head fill with fog. Every fibre of clothing touching her was offensive to her skin, and she wanted to shove him off and strip herself bare, leaving every inch of her exposed to his touch.
The grip Nesta had on the sheets was painful, but compared to the sexual pleasure she was experiencing by Cassian’s tongue, it was of little consequence to her. She felt her pussy tighten when he dipped his tongue into her entrance ever so slightly, and the overpowering need to have something other than his face between her legs, pounding into her, cramming her so full it hurt was unbearable. She wanted him inside her, a thick, hot, long, hard something fucking into her relentlessly until she want completely spent, or unconscious.
She had never experienced such a thing, but her natural instincts begged for her to be filled, unforgivably and only by him.
The heat that pooled in her lower stomach told her that their fun would come to a swift end, and she weaved her fingers through the soft locks of ebony black hair to ground herself. She smiled when he grunted and moaned as she pulled, his enjoyment of her rough display evident, so she gripped him harder, using her hand to direct him exactly how she pleased.
He did not argue, moaning into her again, sending vibrations around her pulsing clit. He liked being used by her, and he let her ride his face into oblivion.
Her orgasm crashed into her with such ferocity her vision spotted. Cassian’s tongue not relenting as she fucked his face, and she felt something wet pool in the sheets beneath her.
She should have been embarrassed by her display, her scream so loud if it wasn’t for the second set of doors leading to her rooms there was no doubt the entirety of the castle would know what they were up to. With every flick of his tongue as he ripped unbridled pleasure from her body, the need to feel any sort of shame disappeared.
It was moments later that she felt Cassian snake up her trembling body, and she opened her eyes just in time to see his face before he leaned down to kiss her. She felt she should have been disgusted, tasting herself on his lips, in his mouth, but it only sparked something deep within her core.
No words were exchanged, none were needed, she couldn’t find words appropriate to thank him for the orgasm, so she just pulled him back down for another kiss. The weight of his body pressing her down into the mattress was one she only hoped to feel again, the feel of his muscles against her soft hands pleased her. Visions of him on top of her, pressing her roughly into the mattress as he pounded into her had her scraping her nails down his biceps as they continued to kiss.
“Cassian, that was-,” but she cut herself off, freezing in place as she strained to hear something in the distance. Cassian looked down at her with a questioning look before hearing a light rapping against the door.
“Nesta?” Arianwen called and Nesta had never felt so terrified in her entire life than she had at that moment. “Nesta, some of the ladies heard sounds coming from your room, are you ill?”
“No, Mama,” she replied, heart about to burst out of her chest, “Just a little overheated from the weather, I require some rest.”
“Where is Cassian?” She questioned, “I knew Devlon made a mistake, he has left his post, and why is this door locked?” The irritability in her mother's voice was not a good sign, the women in question jiggling the handle of the door harshly.
“He is simply down getting me some freshwater from the kitchens, he insisted I lock my door,” Cassian looked at her, surprised at how easily she lied to her mother.
“Fine, just be ready for dinner, on time,” she huffed before exiting the front room of her chambers.
When they heard Arianwen leave the rooms completely, Cassian relaxed, sliding down to his knees in front of her again, relieved.
Nesta on the other hand had completely tensed up, reverting to her earlier state of distress. “I can’t believe her, no actually I can,” she began, her breath coming in low huffs, but not from their earlier activities, but from the anger she was now feeling. “Of course, she is far more concerned over my attendance at dinner tonight than my well being.”
Cassian trailed his hands up her thighs as she ranted, messaging her tense muscles, trailing kisses along the skin as he went, “She is relentless, parading me in front of these men like I’m-I’m some sort of animal, ready to be bred to the best bull,” she shuttered, her words becoming slurred after each gentle press of his lips against her sensitive skin.
“It was tolerable when it was a few men, she doesn’t…” her sentence abandoned, his breath grazing lightly against her overstimulated clit. Nesta continued to mumble, the conversation going on completely inside her head as Cassian continued to taunt and tease her.
He only caught bits and parts of what she was saying as her mind descended back into that place where only his mouth and the pleasure he provided existed, “She doesn’t,” a moan broke off her train of thought as he licked a long strip up her cunt. He wanted her speechless, his name the only word she could remember. He wanted her troubles far from her mind, to pretend for a moment that she had no other obligation than to just feel, “I-I don’t, um, I don’t, she uh,” she whimpered, her fingers fisting back into his hair and tugging him upward to the exact spot that would make her scream.
His cock twitched in response at the dominating action, he wanted her to use him in any way she wanted, abuse his mouth so brutally he bruised. His lungs screamed, demanding air and he let out a desperate growl, but he refused to back away, not until she was cumming once again on his tongue.
Like the first time, it did not take long for her to reach her utopia, her desperate cries filling the room and he did not relent until she pushed him away, whimpering at the overstimulation. He didn’t want to stop, wanted to see how far he could push, how many orgasms he could pull from her trembling body, but she was not ready for it, and he would always follow her lead.
Cassian pushed himself up and away, pressing one more soft kiss against her before unhooking her legs from around his shoulders. She was pliant in the aftermath of her orgasms, body limp and relaxed, exactly what he wanted. She would get a few hours of reprieve from her worries, head fogged in the release of endorphins brought on by her multiple orgasms that should keep her mind floating in unadulterated bliss.
Nesta hadn’t bothered to open her eyes as he leaned over and kissed her, “I’ll get you that water,” he said before slipping out.
Water was not the only thing he got, having run into Gwyn in the kitchens. He sent her to Nesta, a cold jug of water in hand and no explanation. Gwyn would know soon enough, she had a privilege many others did not as Nesta’s confidant. Cassian prepared to steel his expression against the onslaught of teasing looks the red-head would send his way once she got all the dirty details.
He took a detour back to her rooms, finding an abandoned closet in one of the corridors Nesta had often led him to for a private moment. He took care of himself there, wrapping his hand around his aching cock and stroking himself to completion, all the while thinking of how her small hands would feel instead of his own. The mere thought of her mouth wrapped around him, cheeks hollowed and tear-streaked, brought him over the edge far quicker than he had in years.
He didn’t allow himself to dwell on how their relationship may change, how close they were to getting caught or how much he enjoyed being degraded to nothing more than a tool to be used by her for her personal pleasure. He had fucked up, allowed himself to be controlled by his cock and his ever growing need for a woman he could never have. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel regret at what they had done, would regret nothing when it came to her.
Cassian cleaned himself up and headed back to his post before anyone could take notice. Pressing his ear to the door he hear murmured words exchanged between the two friends before silence took over.
It was hours later that Nesta emerged from her room, looking every bit the proper princess thanks to Gwyn’s work. No longer the debauched royal that had been screaming his name, cheeks flushed and hair splayed out behind her as he feasted on her, but a vision in emerald green.
Dinner that night had proceeded far more smoothly than the previous nights. He dare say Nesta was pleasant, her mother looking proudly at her daughter as she conversed with the handsome Lord. The queen looked smug as she watched them interact, and Cassian was to laugh at the self-satisfied gleam in her eye.
If only she knew what really caused her daughter's agreeable attitude.
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lilacsandwhiskey · 3 years
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I’m currently obsessed with tiktok and tom holland so I’m obsessed with imagines about both. i think it would be cute if you do a tiktok trend with the boys but like the world doesn’t know about reader and Tom so people are shipping her with one of the guys? like from the tiktok? Tom maybe gets jealous or something ? idk i’m rambling haha
Thanks for the request anon :) I hope this was okay!
Heartbreak Anniversary
Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Warnings: mentions of pandemic and COVID, cussing, maybe suggestive at points???, angst, jealous Tom, uhhh sucky writing and no proofreading so bare w ya girl n kinda longer than I anticipated but here we are :)
Notes: italics = flashback
If someone asked you how you managed to get a life as crazy as your’s, you’d simply reply “just meet Harrison and become best friends.” You almost couldn’t fathom what your life looked like right now - you sat in the kitchen with your two friends, Harry and Tuwaine, who had fallen into the pits of TikTok with you, while Harrison, Sam, and your beloved, Tom, sat in the living room, screeching at the television as they watched a game. All of this, while in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.
You didn’t officially live with the boys, but you might as well have. Your apartment was only minutes away, but with how communal your living situation was, Tom simply talked it over with his brothers and best friends, who didn’t even hesitate to scream yes when he asked if you could stay there. It was “safest,” he explained when he begged you to come stay for a while. So you did.
How did we get here? It all started with a little project, Harrison Osterfield, and him playing cupid.
——————————
“Clumsy, are we?” Harrison managed to balance you as you tripped over your own two feet, walking into the studio. “What makes you think that?” You huffed back, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Just get that vibe.” He replied, shrugging with a smile.
It didn’t take long for you and Harrison to practically become the best of friends. He soon was inviting you out to drinks with his friends, who immediately accepted you. Though you and Harrison’s friendship was strictly platonic, you found him itching to find out about your relationship status. “Should I even wonder, Harri?” “I mean, no. I’m just curious.” “I thought I told you before I’m not interested in a relationship right now.” You said, glaring at him with a smile. “I didn’t ask that, I was just curious. So anyway, are you coming to the pub tonight? I’m dying for you to meet my friend, Tom.” The excitement in his voice was too much to understand, but instead of questioning, you just replied with a yes.
There you were, walking through the doors of the pub at 8pm sharp. Your eyes finally spotted familiar faces who were calling out to you. You followed suit, inching your way to the booth at the back. “Y/N!” They called, urging into hugs. “Hi everyone!” You replied, taking a seat. Tuwaine was already scooting over your favorite drink towards you. “Told you we’d always take care of you! Anyway, we’re celebrating tonight. Tom’s back home!”
Your eyes landed on the curly-haired boy who had a gentle smile playing on his lips. “No need for anything big, I’m just glad to be surrounded by my favorite people.” Tom said. “Nice to meet you finally, Y/N. Glad to finally put a face to the name.” Tom held a hand out, gripping tight to yours as he shook it. Little did you know, Tom was well-aware of what your face looked like. He hadn’t been able to stop scrolling through your social media pages after Harrison had posted a picture of you, him, and Tuwaine on his story during a night out.
———————————
“So who’s this girl you’ve been posting?” Tom said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible during this conversation with his bestfriend. “Y/N, I thought I’d mentioned her to you.” Harrison said through the phone. “I don’t believe you have, are you like…” “No, no, dude, you know I’ve been talking to Grace.” “I know, but I was just worried my best friend had moved on without telling me!” “You know I would. No, she’s just a friend, we met during a project. Grace actually loves her, and so does everyone else - including your brothers. Have they not told you about her?”
Tom tried to think back to his conversations, only briefly hearing mentions of your names when he’d ask what they’d been doing. He couldn’t help but scroll through your pictures, soaking up every aspect of your life, well, only what you displayed. You had a dog, bingo. You seemed to be funny by the way you captioned your pictures, good. You seemed to have fun, love your family, and live a life that perfectly reflected how Harrison had described to him after he had came to the realization that Tom had already began crushing on you just by what he’d started telling him and the way you portrayed yourself.
Tom begged Harrison to be his wingman. Harrison practically scolded him the first few times. “I don’t want you to mess up this friendship.” “She’s not just a fling, Tom.” “Can’t you just be friends first?” Tom would settle for the last comment. “Fine, introduce us.”
————————————
Your conversations with Tom seemed so effortless that night. With too much alcohol in your system, you found yourself completely flustered by how pretty he was with his glazed eyes, rosy cheeks, and the constant giggles escaping his lips.
Though nothing ever happened that night, you found yourself spending more and more time with Tom in the coming weeks. Harrison didn’t mind as his relationship was truly flourishing with Grace. Weeks later, Tom had finally kissed you out of the blue and it changed everything. He was leaving for a few more weeks for filming, and instead of gaining the guts to make it official that night, he waited until he came back. It was the first thing he asked you when you reunited.
But, it wasn’t as simple as that. The logistics, the orchestrating, there was so much planning involved with what felt like should just be simple. Tom had fans, and sometimes they weren’t so nice. Tom wanted to protect you in every way possible. Though it was obvious you’d been hanging with the guys, since some of them had posted you, you had just figured that if you went out in public, you’d all go together and you couldn’t spend too much time just next to Tom. Posts were limited, it was all planned to a T. But you didn’t mind, because Tom made you happy and you knew it was for the best.
For a while, you did long distance. Your relationship had been based off of late night or early morning FaceTime calls, quick calls in between breaks, and short text messages throughout the day. It was hard but worth it. But this last time didn’t last near as long as others.
When word of COVID swept through the news, the world became frantic in all aspects. When everything began going into lockdown, Tom was sent straight back home from filming.
———————————
Laughter erupted between Harry, Tuwaine, and you. Tuwaine had showed you a both a video on TikTok he came across of a girl dancing in the midst of her friends to the song Heartbreak Anniversary. Though her coordination was obviously great, it was the reactions and how aggressive she was doing the dance that made it so funny.
As if on cue, Tom, Harrison, and Sam walked into the kitchen, Harrison mentioning that they couldn’t hear their program over their laughing. That’s when they found themselves gathered around the phone, joining in the laugher.
“I think we should recreate it. I think Y/N should learn the dance and be in the middle. It’ll be too good.” Harry said. “Me?” A nervous laugh escaping your lips. “For sure, we learn dances so fast, you’ll have it down in no time.” Harry was right - over the last few months, you’d formed certain hobbies with each of the boys. You had became just as close with them as Tom was, and one thing you and Harry found yourselves doing often was learning dances in the backyard, most likely disrupting the neighbors from your obnoxious cussing and laughter.
After protesting the dance, the guys had won and you were now practicing the dance. You felt so dumb, you couldn’t help but laugh. You didn’t allow the boys to see it so that when you videod, it would be their fresh reactions. And that’s what it was -
The boys circled around you, ready to endure the dancing. Right before, Tom had pulled you aside and reiterated not focusing that much time on him, though he wanted you to. You agreed, understanding the circumstances considering the world still was unaware of your relationship. To everyone else, you were just some friend that came to hang out every now and then.
So when the music started, you kept that little rule in the back of your mind. You tried to spend enough time with each, trying to make them laugh which definitely worked. You added your own flair to the dance, leaning back towards each of them, causing them to spit out laughter. You still found a moment with Tom, because it’d be too obvious that you were not trying to be obvious if you didn’t (haha).
Afterwards, the guys laughed over your shoulder as they watched their own reactions. “You killed that!” Sam exclaimed.
Hours later, you all sat in the living room, engrossed in your own thing - television, telephone, reading, someone was doing something. That’s when Tuwaine busted out laughing. “Shit, these comments are ruthless!” “Hmm?” You said, not even thinking to go check on the video you’d posted. When you opened up the app, Tom was looking over your shoulder to look for himself.
“Yeah, Harrison and Y/N are def fucking”
“Y/N and Haz 👀👀👀”
“Look at the way Haz looks at her 😍 obvi in love”
The comments continued. You cocked your head, watching back at the video. There was nothing much different between your interactions other than he was laughing the most - but that was just Haz. You shook your head, laughing as everyone but Tom joined it.
“Dang, Y/N, didn’t know we cared so much about each other!” Harrison said, giggling. “Right, just so in love!” You jokingly fell back into the couch, but soon noticed that Tom was barely participating in the jokes. Instead, he was leaning back, barely cracking a smile, even when you tugged his arm. You tried to shake off his reaction, not expecting him to actually be upset.
—————————
“I think I’m going to shower, wanna join?” You pulled out some sweatpants from the drawer that you’d claimed. “Why don’t you go ask Harrison?” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Excuse me?” Tom stayed silent. A nervous laugh escaped your lips, in hopes that his words were only joking but the straight face he was giving, along with no eye contact, made it clear that he was not joking.
“Are you being serious right now?” You asked quietly. You felt yourself beginning to get upset, considering you had never given him a reason to believe that for one, you’d ever cheat, and for two, that you and Harrison had ever had sex. He was well aware of the friendship that you had before Tom came along, and not only was it strictly platonic, but Grace had been in the picture the whole time.
Tom finallt replied with a shrug, which elicited rolling eyes from you. “You’re unbelievable.” You slammed the door to the bedroom, slamming the bathroom door across the hall. It may have been absurd, but in that moment you honestly were shocked. You and Tom had never really argued about something like this before - it just never showed itself as a problem. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been rumored dating each one of the boys before anyway, you didn’t know what was different.
Harrison had obviously heard the slamming of the doors, including the other boys who surrounded him. Sam pushed the television, looking around at the group, who was already exchanging looks. “Nose goes.” Tuwaine said, instantly pinning his finger to his nose, the rest of the boys following. Harrison was the last to reach his nose. “Aw, come on. You know this is probably about me.” Harrison whispered. “Guess you gotta find out.” Harry replied, shrugging.
Harrison slowly made his way to Tom’s room, slowly knocking before opening the door. Tom was laying on the bed on his phone, seeming that he was not phased by the events that seemed to have just occurred. “Tom?” “Hmm?” “What’s going on?” Harrison asked, inching closer to the bed.
Tom laid his phone on his chest with a smirk. “Why don’t you go find out?” “Seriously, Tom? Are we twelve right now?” Harrison huffed back, crossing his arms. When Tom didn’t reply, Harrison felt like tugging his hair out. It wasn’t very often that the two lads argued, but Harrison honestly couldn’t believe that THIS is what the argument was about this time.
Harrison made it clear time and time again before Tom and you had started dating that you two had been platonic from the beginning. Harrison loved you like a sister, but never anything more. Tom was well aware of that - so he didn’t understand why he was lashing out?
“Look, mate. I don’t know why you’re acting like this, but I can guarantee you, that if you keep on, Y/N isn’t going to like it. You have no right to take it out on her. You know she wouldn’t do that to you in a million years, hell, you know I’d never do that to you in a million years. If you want to be mad, be mad at me, though you have no true reason to be. Fans make assumptions all the time. You can’t possibly be upset when you’re the one who continues to vow her as a secret to the world. You orchestrate every plan with her to make sure that it looks like you’re not dating, so yeah, people might get skeptical. I’m sorry that you’re feeling insecure right now, but you have no right to accuse her of anything.” Harrison had no intentions of giving a speech, but he knew that it had to be said. Tom just looked at him, and for the first time, Harrison couldn’t get a read on him.
Harrison made his way out of the room, almost colliding with you as you came out of the bathroom. Harrison gave you a sympathetic smile before going back to the living room. Confused as to what had just happened in Tom’s room, you took a deep breath before opening the door. There was no doubt that you were still upset, but you also were bothered about the fact that this came so suddenly. Or had it? Had he been so skeptical before and you’d just never caught on? How could he not trust you?
As you walked in, Tom laid on his side away from you. You let out a small sigh, placing your dirty clothes in the hamper and walking over to the bed. “Tom?” No answer. “Can we talk?” Though you couldn’t see around him, Tom squeezed his eyes shut at those words. He finally turned over. “Hey.” You said. “Hey.”
You assumed an apology would come after that, but it never did. You tried to be reasonable. “I get it.” “Hm?” “I get it. I’m sorry that you’re feeling like this. I can’t say there haven’t been times I’ve gotten a little jealous or scared or insecure when you’re miles and miles away. But I’m right here. You have nothing to worry about.” “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted that way towards you.” “It’s okay, but you have to trust me. We’ve been together over a year now and this conversation has never came up. Why now?”
Tom took a minute to gather his words. He let out a slow shaky breath. “I don’t know how to put it into words. When I’m away, I long to be back home with you. It seems so simple to know that I get to home and you’re here for me. So, now that I’m home for longer than a week, I recognize that you have developed these amazing friendships with people who can be here for you more than me, and sometimes it just feels unreal that I have you - like I don’t deserve you. I just love you so much that the thought of you being with someone else ever hurts me, and I think that’s why the comments got to me so much this time. Y/N, I think I’m ready to tell the world. I’m tired of keeping you a secret. I want to show the world you’re mine, I want to be the one they make those comments about. Ridiculous, huh?” Tom let out a small chuckle and shook his head.
You grabbed his hands, shaking your head. “Babe, if it weren’t for Harrison, we wouldn’t be here. The relationships I’ve grown with everyone is over our shared love of you. We are so grateful that we can be altogether in each other’s presence and enjoy it because we all have a shared love. You’re so important to all of us, and that’s just how it works. I’m ready to tell the world if you are. I’d love nothing more than to finally call you mine publicly… and maybe go on a date outside of our backyard when this pandemic ends.” You say with a grin. He pulls you on top of him, laying a slow kiss on your lips. “You’re so important to me. Let’s show the world how much.”
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