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joelsgoldrush · 10 months

Text

swore i heard you whisper that you preferred us like that

joel miller x f!reader / 5,8k words

summary: you ask joel –the quiet, distant joel– to teach you how to ride a horse. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and it must be true, because when he really sees you, it´s like he finally understands what you feel for him.

warnings: smut 18+ let’s pretend joel never left jackson, porn with plot, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel is 56), grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, pet names, unprotected p in v (don't try this at home ok), dirty talk, soft!dom joel (sort of???), a bit of angst/feelings, joel gets all babygirl around reader, ellie appears for like a minute, mediocre attempt at recreating joel's southern accent (sorry in advance)

a/n: hello??? well this is my first fic ever so bear with me, i'm still new to all this. also english isn't my first language so i'm afraid there may be mistakes (mostly when it comes to collocations bc i hate them and they confuse me), buuuut i'm learning obviously and if you find anything that should be corrected PLEASE TELL ME thank you :) i'd appreciate if you told whether you liked this story (idk what to call it tbh) but if you don't it's more than fine! anyways thank you so much for reading if you come across this fic, i hope you like it! i've spent a week writing it bc finals season is killing me <///3

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

"Oh, my drunken southern star / How you tried to hide in darkness / Slipped from orbit / Now you’re dangerously close / Come out, come out from all your hiding out / We’ll dig in our heels, salute the battlefields / Where our broken hearts were born."

What is it that he has?

You used to ask yourself that question every night as you went to bed. On some occasions, you couldn't manage to come up with an exact answer. There were too many reasons that disclosed why a man like him lingered on your mind, even in those moments that were supposed to be for you and only you. Sleeping more than three hours a day was definitely something you needed tremendously, but still, the not-so-rational voice inside your head kept on bringing his name up without fail, disturbing your rest.

Joel Miller. Was it possible to feel like this? Like you knew somebody without having exchanged more than five words with them? Sure, there wasn't a single person in Jackson who wasn't aware of his existence. From whispered rumors in the streets to stories that intended to give his reserved personality an explanation, Joel became a real talking-point among those in the commune. Years ago, when the world was still just a floating ball in space, he would’ve frightened you, being the kind of person your parents used to warn you about as you started to grow older.

He walked a certain way, as if he were holding the suffering of many lives in his hands. Always on guard, prepared to fight those who defied him. Hidden knives in his pockets, a gun between his fingers, the trigger too tempting to be pulled at any time given. His hair was a mixture of brown and gray, and you swore that the latter was only becoming more prominent as days went by.

Suddenly, your pillow felt too uncomfortable, your hands fisting the fabric of your t-shirt while you kicked the blanket resting on top of your bare feet. A sigh escaped your lips, the taste of something you couldn't even distinguish on your tongue, your unsteady breath being the only sound to be heard in that noiseless night.

You were having a hard time figuring out how you felt about Joel (if there was anything to feel in the first place, since he barely remembered your face and there you were, fantasizing about him instead of sleeping.) Maybe you liked how he presented himself, how bossy and persistent he looked the times you caught him patrolling around the zone. Or perhaps it was his character what charmed you in the first place, and the fact that, deep down, a different side from him remained completely unseen.

He was handsome, too. Tall, broad shoulders, aquiline nose. His arms looked majestic in every single piece of clothing he wore, his tanned skin shiny enough to reflect the very same sun. And his legs… you were sure they were muscular like the rest of his body, because of all the physical effort he did. You had heard that he worked as a contractor before the pandemic, which made a lot of sense. Once or twice you had paid attention to his hands and–

Then, a familiar feeling sinked in. Warm began spreading through your belly, your thighs involuntary clenching together. “Fuck,” you muttered in a low tone, keeping your hands glued to your sides. Another motive not to think about Joel: he made you feel… things. Certain things that you hadn't felt for anyone in a very long time. You preferred to think that it was probably due to the fact that you were touch-starved, and not because you found yourself deeply attracted to him. Never had you ever been a sexually active person, so why now? Why did the mere image of Joel in your mind turn you on?

He’s strong. I’m alone. I feel the need to find someone who’s willing to protect me. That’s it. No other reason.

Your internal monologue was lacking in arguments, but it was definitely something you could work with. As if on cue, you found it hard to keep your eyes open, your limbs not feeling as if they were yours anymore. Next thing you knew, you were asleep.

That night, you dreamt with Joel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In a small cabin, you taught children how to paint and draw. Maria believed it to be helpful for their psychological development or something like that, and you had agreed to do it. A good way to spend your free time– that’s what it was. Plus, you liked children; some would even choose to include you in their drawings, and that small gesture just warmed your heart.

There, you met Ellie, a teenager whose basic vocabulary consisted mostly of profanities.

And boy, you loved Ellie.

It was hard not to, actually. She was like a breath of fresh air, with her jokes and instant charm. You two became attached in a short time, and she reminded you of a younger version of you, just a lot braver. Although in this world it brought her benefits, you sometimes wished she wouldn’t have gone through all that shit. Those eyes, which squinted as she laughed if you tickled her sides, were the cemetery of many buried memories. You wondered how she managed to put a smile on her face despite her past and the horrible things she had seen, hoping it was genuine and not a mask.

“Look!” her voice brought you back to reality. Blinking in her direction, you realized the amount of paint you had dropped onto the floor, a red stain already forming on the carpet. “Are you okay? You seem off.”

“I’m fine! Just a bit sleepy today, that's all,” you got closer to where she was lying down, her fingers moving the brush you had gifted her in different directions. Squatting a bit, you placed a strand of hair that didn’t make it into her ponytail behind her ear. “So, what are you painting?”

She smiled warmly, and her teeth catched her lower lip momentarily. “It’s not finished, okay? Don’t freak out. I know you’re a perfectionist.”

“I’m not…” you tried to explain yourself, but ended up choosing to be defeated. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, may I see it?”

The canvas was in your hands a few moments later. Ellie spoke beside you, her words mixing together in a sign of embarrassment. “It’s for Joel. Figured I could do something nice for him, you know? I don’t– I think I need to start over. His eyes look kind of strange, don’t they? They’re so close he looks like a cyclops.”

“Don’t say that, kiddo. This is… it’s beautiful,” your index finger traced the lines framing his jaw, the shades of his skin perfectly achieved. You held the painting even tighter, afraid of breaking it for a second. He wasn’t frowning like he normally did; Ellie had painted him smiling, and the crinkles by his eyes matched his age. Surely you must have spent more time than necessary staring at it, ‘cause then Ellie continued talking.

“Well, you know what they say: The student has become the teacher.”

You handed the canvas to her, a smirk taking place on your face. “Yeah, I guess I’ll stop teaching you if that’s the case.”

An hour or so later, someone knocked on the door. As both of your hands were occupied (a more formal way to say that they were dirty with paint), you screamed “Come in!”, and Ellie covered her painting with an old, muddy curtain you used to clean the tables in which the children worked. You were about to ask her why she had reacted in that way, until you turned around and saw him.

Joel was there, as every other Wednesday. In your cabin, standing right in front of you. And you didn’t even look presentable. His hair looked messy, a couple of locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Hi,” he said shortly, meeting your gaze and attempting to shake your hand, but you avoided contact.

Showing him your hands, you held your palms in the air as an indication of the still fresh paint on your skin. “Sorry. If I were to accept the gesture, I’d leave you a stain.”

He retrieved a bit, adjusting his glove. “It’s okay. Safety first.”

That was supposed to be a joke, you noticed tardily. The silence in the room persisted until Ellie appeared from behind your back, already putting her coat on.

“You were supposed to pick me up in half an hour, asshole.”

His mouth snapped shut for an instant. “I missed you too. How was the class?”

Ellie lifted her shoulder in a half shrug, looking in your direction and proceeding to jerk her thumb toward Joel. She didn’t want him to see the painting. “Fine as usual.”

“Can I see what you’re–”

“No fucking way!” she accentuated the word fucking, drawing him closer to the door.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not done.”

“But–”

“No more questions, Joel. Let’s go! Say bye!” Ellie handled him like a baby, which made you giggle.

Though you saw Joel raising his eyebrows, so you stopped laughing.

Soon, they left and the cabin returned to its familiar quietness. A sigh erupted from your chest, and you allowed yourself to fall on top of a chair.

At least you could say you had actually talked to Joel for once.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It didn’t surprise you that you wanted to see him again.

Not in the “you-turn-me-on” way, but in the “you-seem-interesting-and-i-need-to-find-out-why” one.

He had something. Something so magnetic and indecipherable that kept pulling you towards him. Something that made you look for his presence in every crew, and not sensing what it was only made your wishes to dissect him grow bigger. There was a tiny probability that he was an idiot with a pretty face. Who knew? You definitely didn’t, and that needed to change. You deserved to know if pining over that man was worth it or not.

That chain of thoughts led you to look for him the next day, almost trembling with eagerness as you asked him the most stupid and unexpected question you could have imagined.

“Would you teach me how to ride a horse?”

He looked at you as if you were out of your mind, opening his mouth a few times and then closing it before he actually replied to you. “You’re tellin' me you don’t know how to ride a horse?”

“Tried it a few times, but failed and now I really want to learn to do it properly,” you swore his eyes were trying to decipher if you were saying the truth or not. “Ellie told me that you could probably make some time to teach me?”

“So Ellie's in charge of my schedule, I suppose?” you froze on the spot, and he must have noticed it because then his expression dulled. “Sorry, sweetheart. It was a joke. I've been told I'm not the best humorist.”

Sweetheart. You could’ve died a happy girl.

“Look, why don’t we meet up tomorrow after lunch? I'm sure it won’t take us much time. Not a difficult task, y’know?” he stroked his beard, apparently thinking you understood what he was talking about.

“Sure. Thank you, Joel. My name’s–“

He didn’t let you finish. “I do know your name,” and before leaving, he repeated: “I’ll be here tomorrow. You know where to find me.”

To say that you slept without interruptions that night was an understatement. Each hour seemed to become longer the more you glimpsed your watch. Your heart drummed inside your chest violently, and you feared that someone else would be able to hear it if they got close enough to you.

After having lunch in the same spot as every other mundane day, your legs took you to the stable. You took a shaky breath, expecting him to appear out of thin air, but fifteen minutes went by, and there was still no sign of Joel. Pressing your forehead against the wooden door, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “What was I even thinking?”

“Hey.”

You looked to your side and– there he was, already getting inside the stable and inviting you to follow him. Joel petted one of the horses, clicking his tongue. His fingers caressed the animal’s back, and when he shot a glance at you, he didn’t ignore your disturbed expression.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of horses.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you laughed awkwardly, eyeing the horse, which stared at you with those big and strange eyes. You raised your hand to mimic Joel, but that just made the animal move further away from you. “I guess it’s mutual. We don’t like each other.”

Joel smirked, guiding you outside. “It’s a damn horse. I don’t think you can tell whether he likes you or not. You gotta change that attitude of yours,” he murmured as he got on top of the horse, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Treat him well and he’ll be nice.”

At first, Joel taught you the basics: how to position yourself for balance, get your legs in the right position, hold the reins properly. A little bit of help coming from him was needed for you to mount the horse. He got down on one knee, patting it as if it were a mounting block. “Come on. Step on it.”

No need to ask me twice, you thought as you did what you were told, and once you were grabbing on those reins for dear life, you observed him with curious eyes. “Now what?”

“Now…” he pressed his hand into one of the horse’s sides, and afterwards, the horse began to fucking trot and you cried out, a high-pitched shriek slipping from your mouth. Joel laughed maliciously, almost hypnotized by the scene. “Now is when you learn how to ride a horse!”

“This isn't funny!” you screamed, the horse still very much entertained with the way you were jerking on top of him. “Stop!”

You couldn't believe how he kept… cracking up. Joel touched his stomach, shaking with laughter. “You’re a natural, can’t you see it? I’m havin' the time of my life here.”

“What I can see is that you’re an idiot! Cut the cackle and help me!”

But he didn’t move a single muscle. Instead, he remained still, that smug look never abandoning his features.

The bastard. “You’re gonna make me beg? In this situation?”

Crossing his arms while teasingly grinning at you, he added: “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Joel Miller, will you help me? Pretty please?” your hair was getting in the way, and you could taste it as you insisted. “Is that enough for you?”

It was, actually. He helped you get down from the horse, his thick fingers digging into the mushy skin of your waist. It shouldn’t have felt that good, but it did. You were supposed to be angry at him for setting you up and still, by touching you for a microsecond, he had transformed you into something malleable.

Sadly, that feeling didn’t last much longer. “Didn’t know you were a man of manners. Should’ve told me beforehand.”

“Didn't know you could scream like that. I hope you didn’t freak anyone out.”

The two of you continued to practice until nightfall. A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man. Everytime you tried to quit, he stopped you, making it impossible for you to rest. You stared at him, rubbing the back of your sore neck with a grimace. “I’m tired. Can we go back?”

“One more time.”

“Joel–”

“Trot a couple of meters just one more time, and that’s it for today. Can you do that for me?”

You tried not to pay too much attention to his choice of words, although it was basically non-viable. He looked sinful, and you longed to shut him up with a bruising kiss. Again, a hopeless option. Your hands itched to touch him, to feel his stubble, rough and coarse under your thumbs. How could you stay focused when the man you had been daydreaming with for the last couple of months was bossing you around?

Despite your inability to clear your head of any of those thoughts, you managed to accomplish what he had asked you to do. “Well done,” he offered you his hand to dismount the horse and you accepted it, sighing as you stretched out your arms. “We should take him back to the stable,” Joel suggested, giving you the impression of being pleased as you told him you were coming with him.

Inside the stable, he relocated the horse into one of the many stalls. Unbelievably, the place didn’t smell like absolute shit, which was what you were expecting from a barn. “Thank you for the lesson,” you told Joel once he was done with the horse.

“Anytime,” he scratched his jaw, the dim light making his dark eyes look, if possible, even darker. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No. You were right,” your heart thrummed with every word that he blurted. His presence was addictive. You were never the one to have any bad habits, but deep down, you recognized that he easily could develop one. “I thought you were less talkative.”

“So did I,” for an instant, he pressed his lips together, forming a tight line, as if he had said something he shouldn’t have in the first place. “I think I didn’t ask you this before: but why now? I mean, why did you wait so much time to learn how to ride a horse? Everyone in Jackson seems to know how.”

You cleared your throat, his piercing eyes peering at your movements. “I guess I thought it wasn't necessary back then, before all this. It's one of those things that you don't even consider until it becomes inevitable. I used to believe I had a lot of time left when I was younger,” you had never talked about this with anyone else. There was something so intimate about this conversation, how Joel stood seemingly tongue-tied in front of you, as if he were taking notes of what you were confessing to him. “I remember being a kid and not wanting to use my toys sometimes because I kept waiting for the right moment. But then…”

“You realize there’s no such thing as the right moment,” he finished the sentence for you, and you bowed your head. “Life can end at any moment, especially in a world like ours. That’s why you always gotta do what you wish to. We never know what’ll happen tomorrow.”

“Live for today, hope for tomorrow? That’s your creed?” you tried to mock him, the tension in the stable far from evident, but he didn’t move.

“It’s the way I try to live my own life. I don’t like being left with the desire to do somethin’ I could’ve done earlier. Too old for that.”

Maybe you were gradually losing it. Perhaps just a little. It couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Had he noticed how you acted around him? Were you that obvious?

“So, you would advise me to just…”

“Do whatever you feel right, sweetheart.”

That raspy sweetheart made you give in.

His eyes. His penetrating, gleaming eyes scrutinized your face at the same time you closed the distance between your bodies. From there, you were able to see every freckle, every small detail that you hadn’t previously acknowledged. He parted his lips, as if to speak, but no words other than your name came out. One of your hands made its way up to his cheek, cupping it, feeling the warmth his skin radiated. His head immediately leaned into your touch, like a moth into a flame.

You kissed him, unable to keep waiting. It took him what felt like ages to kiss you back, his fingers tangling in your hair. He absorbed your whimpers, pressing your back against the nearest wall. Maddening– it was the perfect word to describe how being kissed by Joel felt like. When you thought he was going to draw away from you, he just held you tighter until your lungs implored for some air. Your knees had never felt this weak, and you found yourself grabbing onto his shoulders, already feeling the places where his stubble had left its trace in flames.

“Joel…” you mumbled against his lips, detaching your mouth from his. Your erratic breaths seemed to sync together like a melody, and you tugged at the collar of his jacket.

He knew, could see it on your features. “Wanna go to yours?”

Joel took you home. The moment you set foot in the cabin, he closed the door behind him, his hand lingering on the handle as he contemplated you from a distance. You took your coat off first, starting to unzip your pants. There was silence long enough to hear crickets in, the moon up in the sky being the only bystander of your meeting. His eyes roamed the newly exposed skin of your legs and you observed him gulp.

“Did something happen?” you asked him, a flush crepting up your face. Taking a step forward, one of his hands came to rest on top of yours.

“No, it’s just that– Are you sure you want this?”

Crinkling your nose, you uttered: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just too old for you,” he warned you, running a knuckle down your cheek. “You should be with guys your age, y’know? Not with an old man like me.”

“I want you,” reassuring him, you got rid of your t-shirt, and the fact he was still dressed up from neck to toes lit some kind of fire inside you. His calloused fingers fiddled with the strap of your bra until it slipped off your shoulder. “This is what I want. Please, Joel.”

It turned out that Joel Miller certainly was a man of manners.

You couldn't help but moan as he grabbed you by the waist, dragging you to the couch by the window and straddling his lap, his hard-on finding its place beneath you, pulsing and in need of more. His tongue brushed yours ever so often, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his teeth latched onto the skin of your throat. Joel groaned, the sound, low and primal, having its desired effect on you, your hips involuntarily grinding against his in a delicious but tormenting rhythm that already had you on the verge of tears.

“Joel, please,” you managed to plead, not knowing precisely what you were asking for. His hands cupped your ass, imprinting his fingerprints on the soft flesh, forcing your hips to go harder and harder. The harsh fabric of his pants was definitely going to leave a mark on your cheeks, and thinking that helped you realize that you were the only one –almost– naked. You reached for the buttons of his denim shirt, your lips hovering over his. “Take your clothes off?”

He did the rest himself, throwing his jacket to the floor. When he got to his jeans, he cocked his head. “Why don’t we move this to the bedroom, if you’re so goddamn needy?” The few guys you had been with had never been very talkative during sex; there was even this one specific boy who had asked you to not make a sound while he fucked you.

But Joel wasn’t like them. It was just starting and you had already realized that he had a dirty mouth, an expectant look on his face every time he waited for your reaction to his words. “Now you’re quiet, huh? Thought you wanted me to fuck you, darlin',” one of his fingers pressed down on your clit, stimulating it through your underwear. He sighed, stopping his movements and pressing the damp pad of it against your lower lip, urging you to taste yourself. “You’re wet, baby. So fuckin’ wet. Have you been like this all day? Bet you would’ve let me take you right there in the forest.”

“Oh my God,” you whined next to his ear, your whole body trembling with desire. “Take me to bed,” you begged him, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you as if you weighed nothing and heading towards your room.

Not knowing how, you kept your hands to yourself until he placed you on top of the bed. Joel shoved his jeans down and you didn’t think twice– you stroked his length, the fabric of his boxers only making the slow drag of your hand more satisfying. His long fingers circled your throat, and you moaned as you kept eliciting exquisite noises from him. “Let me take care of you,” his dilated pupils carved holes in your being, his grip doing nothing to cease the ache between your legs. “Please, baby. I need to make you feel good. Been thinkin’ about this for so long.”

“What?” you slowed down your pace, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You wanted me?”

“Why do you think I began to pick Ellie up from your classes, huh? Because I’m a good, generous man?” Joel parted your knees, getting closer to where you required him the most. “I’m sorry to ruin this, but I’m far from good. Just wanted to see you and your pretty face. Didn’t know if we were on the same page until you came lookin' for me, askin' me to teach you how to ride a damn horse,” you hadn’t noticed your bra was missing till he cupped one of your breasts, flicking your nipple between his fingers. “I’m sure there were many other people you could’ve asked to teach you, but you chose me, didn’t you?”

“Don’t want anybody else,” your lips chased his, a drop of sweat already rolling down your temple. “I didn’t– didn’t know you noticed me.”

“How could I not? If you could only look at yourself like I’m doing right now… You’re a sight, sweetheart, all spread out for me,” removing your panties, he kissed the skin where your inner thighs met, his tongue darting out to draw imaginary figures on your flesh. His mouth was just inches away from your cunt, and you had to tell him.

“Joel?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never– nobody has ever done that for me.”

He seemed to understand what you were referring to. It made you tense a bit, despite the fact that you were completely naked in front of him, basically begging him to tear you apart. Still, the realization that you weren't as expert as him hit you out of nowhere. Yeah, it was all fun and games, kissing and touching probably the hottest man you had seen in your almost three decades of life. But said man was a lot older than you, and he had lived his best years in the real world, not this fucked up version you grew up in. You were sure he had been with many different women, which wasn’t a problem– you two were nothing.

“Nobody has ever tasted ya’? That’s what you’re tryin’ to tell me?” you nodded quickly, shoving a strand of his graying hair back away from his eyes. Joel chuckled languidly, squeezing your hips. “Do you want me to? It’s okay if you don’t. We can try somethin’ else.”

“Please,” you’d have time to embarrass yourself later, thinking about the amount of times you had repeated that word. But certain moments were to be lived only once, and though you hoped it wasn't the case, you had to take the chance. “I want you to.”

Four words. It took Joel four words to disappear between your legs, licking a hot stripe up your folds. You nibbled on your bottom lip, a loud moan filling the void of your dorm. He drew sweet patterns in your cunt, discovering a part of you that no one else ever had, and you couldn’t help but to grind against his face as he dipped the tip of his tongue into your entrance. Breathing wasn’t a necessity anymore. You felt as if all the air in the world was being punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter the more Joel spent his precious time keeping you entertained.

At some point, he focused his attention on your clit, circling it over and over again, making you shudder. Suddenly, the pad of his middle finger tested the waters, and he slowly slid it into your cunt, earning a strangled whine from you. Burying your hands in his hair, your glossy eyes looked for him for a second. You shouldn’t have done that, because as you took in the sight of Joel with his own eyes closed, browns knitted, your nostrils flared, and you wondered if it was even possible to want somebody that much.

“Joel, wait, I’m– fuck,” your jaw went slack and you scrunched up your face, two of his thick fingers nudging that spot that made you see stars. “I’m close.”

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart. Don’t know why you say it in such a dry tone,” his mouth curved into a smile, his chin and stubble shining with your slick.

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “I don’t want to come yet.”

“But you will.”

A thing you also learned, apart from horse riding, was that Joel was a determined man.

“Joel–“

“I’ll make you come with my mouth, and then with my cock,” dizziness was starting to blur your vision, your eyelashes fluttering with every hard thrust of his fingers. You glanced up to the ceiling, tears filling your eyes. “Think you can do that for me, be my good girl and come twice?”

You bobbed your head. It was official: he was going to make you come.

Drawing in a long breath, you could feel the unbearable pressure in your core. His name sounded like a prayer on your lips, chanting it in the same way some people expressed their devotion to a certain God. You had your own personal deity, whose tongue accomplished to push you to the limit, licking every drop of your release as if it were a special kind of forbidden elixir.

Your shoulders sagged and you relaxed under him. Joel kissed you, an open mouthed and filthy kiss crowning that moment as you panted. Through the cotton fabric of his boxers, you felt his hard-on poking your thigh. Shoving his underwear down, you took him in your hand, hot and just big, stroking him for real this time. You twisted your wrist at the tip, and he slumped forward, almost crushing you with his entire body weight, his breath dampening your neck. “Wanna fuck you, baby,” he croaked, his hips chasing your touch.

Out of all the scenarios you had ever imagined, none of them included being split open by Joel. You had a very vivid imagination, but no amount of creativity would’ve prepared you for what his cock would feel like inside of you. He bottomed out, his arms shaking where they rested on each side of your head. Joel’s breath quickened as he pulled out, just letting the tip, and then thrusting into you again.

“Fuck,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It was even hard to decipher if you were still alive or dead from how magnificent he felt.

“So good, sweetheart. You’re so good, such a good girl,” he groaned, fucking deeper into you. His cock pulsed inside you, your cunt squeezing him. “Can’t believe how– how tight you are. You’re gonna make me lose my f–fucking mind.”

It was just too much. You hadn’t even recovered from your last orgasm before Joel started pounding into you like his life depended on it, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing out in the room.

“You gonna come, huh? Gonna make a mess?” you could sense he was also close, his pace faltering as seconds went by, words slurring together. He pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists and taking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Come inside, you wished to tell him, to feel his seed dripping out of your greedy hole, painting your walls. But you weren't on the pill; it was also the first time you were sleeping with Joel, and you didn’t know how he would take the… suggestion. “Close,” you yelped instead, tears shimmering in your eyes as Joel’s body hovered over you like the most perfect eclipse.

His thrusts became more frenzied, if possible. “That’s it, darlin’. Come for me,” your gaze fixated upon him, his eyes flickering with hunger. “Wanna see you when you soak my cock.”

Your body went limp, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. Soreness took place in your throat as you moaned his name through the aftershocks, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Going rigid, you let go of Joel’s shoulders. He pulled out, mumbling something you didn’t quite catch. You fisted his cock, trying to give him the release he so yearned for. Joel kissed you, messy teeth and saliva taking part of it. Heavy on your hand, his dick twitched as you squeezed the base, roped of his warm cum splattering your belly. The scene reminded you of a painting; he was the talented painter, and you his blank canvas, waiting to be signed with his name.

It was the turn of silence now. None of you said anything for a while, until Joel used his boxers to clean up his cum from your stomach, smiling apologetically at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” your fingers delicately traced the contours of his chest as he reclined, enveloping you in the embrace of his strong arms. “Will you stay?”

Please say yes.

“Only if you want me to.”

Moral of the story: learning how to ride a horse can actually be nice if your teacher happens to be Joel Miller.

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saintmurd0ck · 1 year

Note

AND FOR MY NEXT TRICK:

off that soft prompts list - tracing your lover’s scars, but matt x reader x frank and not just reader doing it, but guiding matt’s hands over frank’s body and the reverse 🥺🥺🥺🥺

do with that what you will polygodmother 💗

be still and feel my beating heart

let's have a sleepover at mine!

pairing: frank castle x reader x matt murdock

a/n: thank you so much for this wonderful ask, kay my darling. this was so beautiful and so soft; i'm sorry it turned out way angstier than intended but... enjoy anyway. 🥺

song pairing: dear august (pj harding & noah cyrus)

The howling wind seems to quieten as your fingers dance across Frank's chest, smooth skin and hardened muscle giving way to a ringed scar that ebbs underneath your fingertips.

You loose a heavy breath. "If you ever had the chance to heal this completely, would you take it?" Would you heal the mark and bear it internally instead?

Frank stills, as if your very question prods red-hot into the centre of his soul.

Heat blooms across your face as remorse surges through your veins. "I don't mean–"

"No. Never."

Matt props himself up with an elbow, shoving the covers off in the process. "Because the scars keep them alive, preserve their memory."

Frank's eyes flutter shut as the pit in your stomach opens up, eddying with shame and bitterness. With the guilt of asking the question. Or the fact that you thought about it in the first place.

Your heart sinks a little further as Frank's hand rests against your own, pressing it flat against the mark. "I'm forgetting things," he says, voice lowered to a near-whisper. "I can't remember her laugh. Or the way" —his voice breaks— "the kids would run up to me after school."

The three of you are silent for a second, interrupted only by a gust of wind that brushes up against the vaulted windows. He circles the scar gently. "That's uh— that's not even because of them. Got that one in Kandahar."

Matt swallows, reaching over to clasp his hand over Frank's. And yours. "Doesn't matter where or how you got it, Frank. You bleed the same. You bleed for them."

"That's right," Frank mutters, nodding his head slowly; the movement barely discernible in the dark.

Matt leans into his touch, gripping the both of you tightly. "You fight for them every single day. That's all you can do, and you do it, over and over again, without a second thought. They're proud of you, Frank. Of this life you've created, of the way you honour them."

Frank inhales sharply as you squeeze him, holding him as close to you as humanly possible. "And what about you, Red?"

"My scars?"

"Yeah. D'ya think you'd erase 'em, if you could?"

Matt purses his lips, tilting his chin to the ceiling. He seems poised to answer the question, but you know the expression on his face. He's deep in thought, and it's more than likely he's sifting through the memories of every cicatrix he's ever worn.

"I don't know," he murmurs, chewing on his lip. "On one hand, I'd get less questions, but on the other..." You press a kiss to Frank's shoulder as your hand now settles on the plane of Matt's stomach, hoping your touch offers him some semblance of support. He breathes a quick 'thank you' before continuing. "On the other hand, they remind me the fight is real. That everything I've done has been worth it, in some way or another."

You run your fingers through his hair, sensing the words he's left unsaid. "There's more, isn't there, Matt?"

"Hm?"

"They're a living reminder of your pain."

Matt turns his head away, as if to shield himself from the truth. "Yeah. So maybe I deserve it."

Frank wastes no time in cupping Matt's jaw, bringing his head back to face in the right direction, grumbling his disagreement in the process. "S'bullshit, Red. Absolute bullshit if I've ever heard it."

"Glad you think so, Castle," Matt scoffs, every word clipped.

You swipe a thumb over Matt's cheek, trailing your fingers down the side of his neck, earning a shudder in response.

"C'mere, Frank," you mumble, guiding his touch towards the long scar on Matt's stomach; the one given to him by Nobu.

Matt stifles a groan as the callouses of Frank's fingers scrape gently over his skin, then again as Frank's lips trace the outlines of the twin marks adorning his chest.

Your next words come out mumbled, dispersed amongst kisses that flutter down Frank's back. "You, my darling Matthew, bleed for Hell's Kitchen. And God knows the city's safer for it, so let your scars be a reminder of all the good you’ve done."

“That’s right, Red,” Frank adds. “‘Sides, you got us now, and I don’t want your sad Catholic boy act. You’ve done good. Hell, better than I ever could.”

As the world around the three of you begins to fade away, intercepted only by Matt’s hushed argument-in-response, you think about it for a second: how it'd well and truly take a lifetime to kiss every single scar flecking their bodies.

You might as well start right now.

#matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle #the punisher #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #matt murdock x frank castle x reader #matt murdock x reader x frank castle #frank castle smut #x reader #matt murdock smut #frank castle x reader x matt murdock #frank castle x matt murdock x reader #saintmurd0ck let's have a sleepover #rhi's mutuals 💗#rhi responds 💌#rhi writes 💻#frank castle angst #matt murdock angst

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lilyliveredlittlerichboy · 8 months

Text

1 - Nine months before

Oh we are back to second person narration <3 my beloved.

Harrow throwing up from lifting a sword.... oh honey. oh honey. where's Gideon when we need her??

... Oh Harrow. Oh my darling girl. Away from all the comforts of home, with only strangers to surround you, saddled with a new, unknown duty, not even managing to lift a sword. A sword which hates you, hates you more than even Gideon used to hate you.

Oh, Harrow.

I so deeply want to give her a hug right now.

With only your old hallucination for comfort... grief weighing you down so much, you barely know if you're alive or dead -

Of course no one else is allowed to touch your sword.

Oh, Harrow.

You said, with difficulty: “What is happening to me?” “You’ve had a shock,” said the Emperor, which was not an answer, actually. “Does this happen to all new Lyctors?” “Some of them,” he said vaguely, which did not fill you with relief.

It's grief, Harrow. Grief for your only friend and constant companion, one whose company you never were without. Sudden, drastic change. Losing all that is familiar to you.

Oh, Harrow.

I enjoy the thanergy/thalergy (they're different?!) empathy from Harrow. Feeling seven hundred other bodies must be so intense for her, though - she wasn't ever in the company of more than, a few dozen at most, at the Ninth and at the First.

No wonder she can't feel her own feelings and sensations. Oh, Harrow.

The writing does so well to convey the acheing disparity between the shiny, polished spaceship and Harrow's numbness, inability to adjust. It makes my soul scream.

“Oh my God,” you said, forgetting that the deity in question was right there. “The ancient dead. You’ve committed resurrection.” He said, “No. I haven’t truly resurrected anyone in ten thousand years.

So you can?????? SO YOU CAN?????? It's a - a crime, a taboo perhaps, but he is GOD, so who cares????

Bring Gideon back this instant, motherfucker.

(And they're all necromancers anyway, so truly - who cares? I guess the intricacies of necromancy still escape me. But also. I want Gideon back so bad. For Harrow. Let my girl have SOME relief!!!!)

You took the chilly metal stairs two at a time, feeling your heart ram against serous pericardium,

Anyway, people who DON'T happen to have a degree in human anatomy, I want to hear from you. Were you googling things constantly while reading? Were you just accepting that these were some kind of Body Words and trying to guess from context what was meant? I want to know.

Oh, I see now. Thanergy is dead-energy, Thalergy is life-energy. That makes a lot of sense, somehow.

(WAIT. Harrow can sense BACTERIA????? How loud is her world, at the best and quietest of times?????)

... the plain grey-sheeted hexagons intended for the Sixth, though there were pitiable scraps and remains in one: leavings only, much less than a corpse. Something flickered in your nervous system that was a bit like an emotion, but it struggled and died, much to your relief.

Oh Harrow. PLEASE allow yourself to feel things.

“You could resurrect them,” you said, without bothering to filter much between thought and speech. “You alone are capable of it. But you won’t. Why?” “For the same reason that I haven’t for ten thousand years,” he said. “For the same reason that I cannot come back to the Nine Houses. The cost is too great.”

...

An Emperor-God with MORALS? Could it be?

Sounds fake. I reserve my judgement.

#i need a tag for my own rambles #harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth liveblog #htn liveblog #tlt liveblog #htn spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #i want to cry. i want to hug her. i want gideon back for her

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bus-ghoul · 1 year

Text

They want to make that intuitive leap

Of all things I could have written... This is a Quinn Fabray x Nancy Wheeler ficlet/drabble. We aren't gonna call it Quancy cause that's gross.

These guys are ... not romantically compatible imo so on a soul level this is more ronance/quinntana

but they are both screamingly comphet more than any other characters I know so I'm obsessed with them

I hope someone else can enjoy my self indulgence

Quinn isn't going to let herself acknowledge it, but she has a plan.

There were calculations involved in every step of getting to this point.

But, if she thinks too much about the fact she's traveled over an hour and a half away to get to the nearest thing she could find to a lesbian bar, then she'd have to start thinking about other things too. Like the fact her usual choice of a long skirt has crept up to barely her mid thigh. Like the fact she had spent the hour before classes this morning filing her nails short.

What works best for Quinn to just act. She has questions she needs answered.

She walks into the bar with the confident front she's been putting on since she was 13.

There are a lot of women.

Not that is is surprising, the Facebook post advertised 'Ladies night', but it's...weird and distracting so have no men in sight.

No one she would assume was a man anyway... There are people here she wouldn't know how to address.

The thought jolts her.

The first person to smile at her as she walks towards the center of activity has bright pink hair, cropped into a short mullet. They are wearing a white singlet that clings to their body, and their chest looks flat. Quinn tenses with anxiety that's a lot like curiosity.

The pink haired person is dancing with a crowd and turns away to laugh with one of them, so Quinn redirects to the bar.

There's a seat next to a girl her age towards the far end of the room.

She's pretty, Quinn thinks, petite. She's wearing some high-waisted trousers and a top cropped in a way that leaves a couple of inches of her back exposed where she leans forward on her stool. Her hair is dark, curly. Quinn pulls back the adjacent stool.

"What are you drinking?" She asks.

The girl next to her looks up. She looks surprised to see Quinn next to her, she thinks, but that might just be her eyes. They're wide and dark and searching in a way that makes her feel exposed before they've even really talked, but she smiles at her and leans back, straightening up.

"It's actually called a gold star" she tells Quinn, her voice drawling slightly. "I couldn't tell you what's in it, I just ordered the one that sounded least perverted".

Quinn smiles back.

"Would you recommend it?"

"If you want something that tastes good, no, but it's the cheapest cocktail on the menu and it'll get you drunk fast". The girl cocks her head and smiles at her again.

There's something in her eyes that makes Quinn prickle. Like this girl is trying to see more than she is currently allowed.

It is not part of how this is going to go.

"What's got you drinking to get drunk?" She asks, conversationally, as if she isn't asking to gain ground.

The girl looks at her, considering, for a moment. Her brows raise. "You want to have sex." She responds, cooly.

Quinn's mouth drops open for a second, before she snaps it shut. She had intended to be bold but she isn't sure how they arrived here after all of 30 seconds.

"Going to ask my name first?", she asks casually watching the other girl carefully.

"Don't need to, Quinn"

The build up to get herself to this point had involved resigning herself to a commitment of being steadfast, stubborn and determined in the face of overwhelming discomfort but that comment about sends her into fight or flight, before the girl gestures to the ID she is twirling between her fingers.

Quinn let's out the breath she's holding silently, through her nose, and flags the bar tender, ordering by pointing at random to the cocktail board.

"Why do you think that's why I'm here?" She asks in the tone she hopes is casual.

"You've come to a lesbian bar night alone and talked to the first single girl you saw" the curly haired girl supplies, looking at Quinn carefully. "Nancy, by the way.".

"Nice to meet you Nancy." Quinn responds flatly. "Want to share why you're here alone?".

Nancy raises an eyebrow at her and Quinn feels a rush of frustration. This is not nearly as simple as it is with boys. She's actually sure if she's closer to fighting this girl or flirting with her.

"I think I might be in love with someone, a friend. A girl" Nancy explains, looking back at her drink at the same time the bar tender slides Quinn hers. "It's confusing. I don't know if we're just really close and I'm not good at that so I'm misunderstanding my feelings, or... I don't know if she thinks of me... like that . I just don't know much about this. So I came here to learn."

"Hands on learner?" The bold question slips out before she can catch it but she feels a tingle of satisfaction when Nancy faintly blushes.

"Hmm, just very thorough." Nancy smiles again. "Have you been with a girl before?".

Quinn tapers down the instinct to balk at that, this girl has been honestly frighteningly open with her and it feels like something mutually satisfactory can come from this.

"Yes." She states. "A friend... we had a casual... encounter". Quinn looks up at Nancy, who's listening intently, and prays she never sees her again after tonight. "I can't stop thinking about it, about her. I've never...it's never been like that before."

Nancy asks softly, "How did it happen?".

"We were at a wedding. I'd broken up with another awful guy and I just wanted something. She was there and willing and I trust her. I was pretty obvious, really. Probably as obvious as just asking.".

"That won't work with mine." Nancy says, dejectedly stirring the ice left in her glass.

"I want to know if... If it was good because it was her or just because she's had a lot of experience"

"I see." Nancy nods. "Well I've never had sex with a girl so that should help answer your question".

Quinn grins. "What about your question?".

"Mine is more, will having sex with a random girl while I'm pining over my friend make me feel better?"

"I'm beginning to think my question has been answered" Quinn finds herself laughing. "This feels like a business transaction".

"Sexy for some." Nancy smiles again and her lashes flutter and Quinn experiences a similar sensation in her chest. "What do you find sexy Quinn?"

🍎🍏🍐🍑🍒🍓🥝🍍🍌🍋🍊🍉🍈🍇

An hour later, they've only had two drinks, but Quinn has lipstick on her neck and Nancy is dragging her somewhere private and she's more happy and excited that she has ever felt with a guy ever.

She tries not to think about how gay Santana would say that is.

#nancy wheeler #ronance #quinn fabray #glee #ficlet #stranger things #femslash #do not judge me 😭#quinntana #quinn fabray lesbian truther #nancy wheeler lesbian truther #fic

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blueseasfanfics · 3 years

Text

Bed Warmer

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Description: In Asgard, Prince Loki chose you to serve him. He catches you sleeping in his bed one night, and your punishment only confuses you. He wants you to be his bed warmer for the night. Fluff, slow burn.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Took a tiny break. Honestly, I need a lot of motivation to write these lately. I love writing them but my emotional state is in shambles at the moment. But writing Loki fic is healing for the soul. I hope reading it helps too.

Want to support me for only $3 or commission a personal fic from me? Incredibly personalized and great prices! Check out my ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/starryeyedalien

------

You fell asleep in Loki’s room.

You didn’t mean to, but you were exhausted after cleaning the rest of the room and his bed was so inviting. He had the most comfortable sheets, the softest blankets.

Anything befitting a prince.

Plus, Thor had dragged him off on some sort of trip for the week, the castle was supposed to be bare-boned and the wing with Loki’s rooms were unpopulated for the moment.

You could take a nap.

But no, you forgot Loki often came back whenever he wanted to, not on a schedule.

You woke up in the dark, the sunlight that was streaming in from his huge windows now gone. In a panic, you scramble to get up until a voice from the shadows freezes you in your tracks.

“Don’t get up on my account.” Smooth words from a silver tongue.

“P-prince Loki, I truly-”

“Apologize? For not cleaning my rooms to my satisfaction? You should be apologizing. Just look at the bed, it’s a mess.”

“Y-yes and I’ll fix that right now and-”

“And what? You still fell asleep in my bed. That’s a grave offense you know.”

He says it calmly but you are nowhere near calm, your heartbeat so loud you can hear it in your ears. You scrabble again to get out of his bed and start quickly tidying up the bed, but he lights a candle that was on his nightstand.

Your breath catches in your throat as you see him in the warm light. He’s shirtless, in loose fitting pants that are low on his waist. You catch yourself staring and snap your eyes up to his face, and feel even more panic as you see he’s looking straight at you. He has a bemused smirk on his face, but you have no idea what he could be amused by.

“I-I’m r-really-”

“You stutter too much.” He mutters and you nod, quickly bending back down to fix the blankets and he sighs.

“Do you understand why I chose you to be my servant?”

“M-my...obedience?”

You hadn’t actually ever thought on it. You had been working in the stables for the longest time, caring for the horses. You were always able to calm them down and barely spoke to anyone at all. Then suddenly, you’re being whisked away to be Prince Loki’s personal maid.

Deep down you resented it. You missed the horses, with your only glimpses of them being trips in the dark of night to say hello. It was forbidden to see them without a key, so you could only go when everyone else was asleep. Not like you had time to see them anyway. It’s been a long few months of cleaning and fetching and orders.

In that time, this was the longest Loki had ever spoken to you.

“Are you obedient? Deep down? Is your purpose to answer my every heed?”

“Y-yes?”

He sighs again, and you have the sinking feeling that you’re saying the wrong things.

“You were more fun when you were screaming at me.”

You’re bewildered. You had never screamed at him before in your life. The only people you had ever even risen your voice towards were those that were messing with the horses.

You screamed at one hooded knight once, for trying to take a wounded horse to ride. But that was months ago.

You take a second to think.

Oh, that bastard.

“Well, you shouldn’t have tried to steal a horse. You could have simply asked kindly and I would have found you one you could have ridden.”

“I wanted that one.”

“He was hurt.”

“I don’t care. You give someone of the court what they want, no questions asked.”

You ball up the blanket you’re holding in your fists, trying to bite down your rage.

“I would not let anyone injure a horse further.”

“Next time, you give me the horse I wish. Or else there will be consequences.” You can feel him staring at you, but you keep your eyes pointedly staring at the blanket in your hands.

“I will not.”

“Then you and the horse will die.”

“You will die before that horse does.” Your hand flies to your mouth the second the words come out, dropping the blanket. You look up at him in fear, expecting rage, but instead you’re met with a wide grin.

It feels mildly predatory, as if he got what he wanted.

“S-sir I didn’t-”

“I told you I liked it better when you were yelling at me.”

“I didn’t think that was true-”

“Do I lie that much that you think everything I say is false?” He says, with mock hurt on his face.

You can only shrug. It’s improper, but this whole situation is improper.

He studies your face as you study his. The eye contact is growing unbearable, as is fighting the urge to not look him over fully again.

“C-can I take my leave?” You whisper and he shrugs.

“You seemed so comfortable in my bed. Sleeping away without a care in the world.”

“I already apologized for that.”

“I’m your master, I would think I get a better apology than that.”

“What do you...mean…” You trail off as he slides elegantly into his bed, lifting the blanket as an invitation.

You stand next to the bed, not moving a muscle.

“Sir, I am not going to-” You say through gritted teeth before he rolls his eyes.

“Such an improper mind. I simply want a bed-warmer. Get a nightcloth from the closet and get in.”

“I-”

“Do it.” His words have a biting edge to them as he drops the blanket and turns away from you. You stare for a moment at his back, seeing it littered with scars. You had never seen those before and they’re hypnotizing, but after a moment you break away and rush to his closet.

He had many ladies nightclothes, in case of late-night visitors, but you had never taken too much of a look. Lately, they hung gathering dust in his cabinet.

You grab the first one you see, and hiding in the dark as much as possible you strip off your uniform and slip into the gown.

It was intended for those of a higher class, the fabric feeling as smooth as air against your skin. It was also obviously made for those wanting to show off, as it was incredibly revealing.

“Are you stealing my closet, or does it just take you millenia to change clothing?” His words come out calm but you still feel the need to rush, and you come out quickly. After a moment's hesitation, you slide into the bed next to him.

You lay on the edge as far away from him as you can and face away from him.

“Oh come on, you were sprawled out so sweetly earlier.”

He sounds like he’s facing you, and you freeze.

“Yes, well, this is your bed.” You say back.

“And I’m telling you to warm it.”

“Didn’t I do that enough through the sprawling from earlier?” A slight touch of your irritation comes out and you curse yourself on the inside.

“Such sass from a servant.”

“Apologies-”

“Never apologize again. It’s so incredibly unlike you, and I hate liars.”

“That’s a surprise.”

“See? Doesn’t that feel so much better? Giving me all your vitriol?”

He almost sounds like he’s laughing under all of his words, but he keeps the same crooning, calm tone.

“I’d rather not die, sir. Life feels better than giving you my mind.”

“If anyone was doling out death threats tonight, it was you.”

You whip around to face him, propping yourself up as you look down at him.

He’s giving you a lazy smile from his relaxed and laid-back position, and that just grows your irritation further.

“I only threatened death on you for proposing it on an innocent creature.”

“Very noble of you, saving those less fortunate. Think you could have saved yourself with that fighting spirit.”

“I don’t especially need saving.”

“Ah, yes. That is why you are a servant, and not a warrior.”

“You are just cruel.”

“That is one of my titles, yes.”

“Why am I in this bed?”

“I told you. Bed-warmer.”

“You just wanted power over me, didn’t you?”

“As if I didn’t already have that. With your little stutter and fear rolling off you in waves.”

You’re seething, but confused. Both on why you’re so irritated, and why you’re suddenly allowed to give him all this irritation. In his bed, no less.

“Then why-”

“As I said. You seemed content in my bed.”

“So? Anyone would be content in your bed.”

“Many people are. For different reasons than yours, though.” He yawns, and examines his fingernails.

“Am I boring you?” You say sarcastically and he nods, glancing up at you.

“Quite honestly, yes. I expected to be asleep by now. But the bed is awfully cold, and someone is talking an awful lot.”

“Mainly you.” You mutter and lay back down again, facing away from him. You scoot to the middle of the bed, forgetting your need to keep distance.

“Is that better?” You ask, then your breath hitches as one arm snakes around your waist. He presses you against his chest and you can feel his chin on the top of your head. He has you locked against him like a puzzle piece, and you freeze in place.

It feels good, and a small part of you admits this is the safest you have ever felt in this castle, but you will never admit it to him.

“Don’t worry. I’m a gentleman.” He murmurs, his voice right next to your ear.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” You try to choke back any fear, but your words still come out in a shaky whisper.

“I’ll only touch you when you ask for it.”

You try to sleep, simply closing your eyes and trying not to focus on him anymore.

It doesn’t work. His entire being is distracting.

“You have a huge ego.”

“Most definitely.”

“I’m not warming your bed every night.”

“Whatever you wish.”

“You’re irritating.”

“The threat against the horse was a lie. I will never hurt your horses.”

“Incredibly irritating.”

“Most definitely.”

After that you both stay in silence, him keeping true to his word and not moving his hand from your waist and you eventually relaxing in his grip. The more you relax, the more tired you are, until you fall asleep in his arms.

---

You wake up alone in the bed, with the blanket tucked up to your chin. You blink away the sleep, and a glint comes off the pillow next to you. Feeling for whatever it was, you find it and pick it up.

A key to the stables, with a note attached. Quick, scribbled script is written on it in black ink.

“Thank you - Loki.”

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mightbewriting · 2 years

Text

b u b b l e g u m b i t c h

wheel-of-doom prompt breaks with @ambpersand are the only thing motivating me to actually get any work done today. this afternoon’s was veritaserum x pansy/ginny. 1,000 words, one hour of nonsense.

The worst part of Draco falling head over heels for Gryffindor’s best, brightest, and bushiest is Pansy’s sudden involuntary association with all sorts of ancillary Gryffindors whenever she’s invited to socialize with Draco.

Meet up for a drink at the Leaky? Harry fucking Potter is there too. Want to watch a pick up game of Quidditch? The entire Weasley hoard is present. Engagement party at Draco and Granger’s nauseatingly quaint cottage in the countryside? Admittedly, Pansy shouldn’t be surprised by the Gryffindor contingent at this one.

Which is why she came prepared. Life is more fun, and intolerable people more tolerable, under the influence. Her drug of choice on this fine and sunny Saturday afternoon? Veritaserum-laced bubblegum imported from one of her father’s less-than-reputable foreign contacts. She’s not sure if it’s intended as gag gift or interrogation tool, but she intends to let it add a little spice to her afternoon.

As a rule, Pansy is ruthlessly honest anyway. It helps her avoid misunderstandings and weed out the weak souls in her life who can’t bear the honest truth, even when it hurts. But not having the choice but to be anything but completely honest, that’s a thrill sure to keep her entertained through a million “so when’s the date” and “when are you planning on kids?” questions Draco and Granger are sure to get while their friends and family fawn over the gods-awful ethically sourced stone sitting on Granger’s ring finger.

Pansy leans against a blooming trellis in the gardens, blowing a lazy bubble in her neon pink gum. So far all she’s done is begrudgingly admit she’s happy for Draco and told Looney Lovegood her exceedingly long blonde hair looked perfect for pulling.

Lovegood took it as a compliment, which wasn’t not the ideal response, but still.

“Got a piece to spare?”

“Yes.” Her answer is automatic, driven by a compulsion towards truth. She doesn’t actually intend to do any sharing “But you don’t want any. It’s got Veritaserum in it.”

Pansy turns to find a Weasley—the most tolerable one, Ginny—sitting on a stone bench and swinging her bare toes through the overgrown grasses and wildflowers making a run on what is probably intended to be a manicured garden. Pansy suspects neither Draco or Granger has much of a green thumb. And yet, the garden thrives regardless.

A bright, wicked kind of smile spreads across Ginny’s face. “No there isn’t.”

“There is.”

“No way you’re walking around here without a filter.”

“I never have a filter, spiked bubblegum or no.”

Ginny snorts a laugh; silky red hair sways with her laughter. “Well, let’s have some then.” She holds out her hand.

“I don’t want to share.”

“I won’t believe you unless you do.”

“I don’t care if you believe me. Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”

“Luna convinced me to try communing with nature in the garden without them. She won’t give them back until I’ve sufficiently communed. Wasn’t expecting to find anyone else out here.”

“I got tired of the festivities.”

Ginny purses her lips and stands, approaching. She stops directly in front of Pansy, soft fabric of her frilly, ridiculous dress brushing against Pansy’s knees.

“Let’s see,” Ginny says. “This could be fun. Tell me honestly, what do you think of my dress?” She runs her hands down the tight bodice, then over the voluminous skirt that stops just above her knees.

“You look ridiculous. You’re not a flouncy sundress person.”

Ginny laughs. “I’m not. Got cornered by my mum and didn’t feel like fighting her this morning. She thinks it’ll help me land a husband now that Harry and I are over.”

Pansy can’t help but roll her eyes. “The only advantage that dress is going to give you in suitor-hunting is easier access to your goods.” That, maybe, is something Pansy might have filtered if she had the ability.

“Thinking about access to my goods, are you?” Ginny waggles her brows with a smirk, leaning onto the trellis beside Pansy.

“Sometimes. Definitely right now.”

Ginny blinks.

Pansy does too.

For the span of a breath, in a sunny garden all to themselves, Pansy thinks maybe she doesn’t regret it.

She’s halfway torn between trying to take it back and doubling down, when Ginny makes the decision for her. “What are you thinking about, exactly? Explicitly, please. In as much detail as possible.”

The Veritaserum reaches up and grabs Pansy by the throat, wringing her of her finer, filthier thoughts.

“Thinking about how you’re probably scorching. I bet I could get you off in this garden before any of our idiot friends figure out we’re missing. I’d like to sit you on that bench, flip up that ridiculous skirt, and eat you like my favorite meal. Better yet, I’d like to tie you to it, charm the vines to do the job, and vanish the dress entirely. I could ride your face while torturing those perky little tits of yours—gods I can see your nipples through your dress right now.”

That much compulsion feels like the drug it is: drowsy in her brainstem, a glaze in Pansy’s eyes. Without realizing it, she’s crowded Ginny against the trellis, nearly touching from head to toe. It’s a heady haze and Pansy definitely has no regrets, not as she watches a red flush backlight Ginny’s freckles.

Ginny initiates the kiss, greedy and demanding, lips slanted to Pansy’s as she pries her mouth open with a dangerous, determined tongue. Pansy immediately pins Ginny to the trellis with enough force that is shudders, dropping tiny flowers from the vines over their heads.

She’s got her thumb and forefinger pinching one of Ginny’s nipples when she realizes she no longer has her gum in her mouth. Ginny leans back with a grin, lips already looking raw and red.

She chews, blows a bubble, and says, “If you get me off before our friends realize we’re gone, you can torture my tits all you want.”

#pansy/ginny #fanfiction #pansy parkinson #ginny weasley

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

fear

pairing: Din Djarin (the Mandalorian) x reader

wordcount:2.6k

warnings: allusions to unhealthy views of relationships, angst with a happy ending? mostly fluffy, you guys know me by now

summary: you had always been told that power brought destruction. why wouldn’t you be afraid of the most powerful man you’d ever met?

“Wait, Mandalorian,” you called, voice trembling - but gratitude was more powerful than fear. He didn’t stop trudging through the outskirts of your little town, steady, as though he hadn’t heard you.

“Please,” you tried again, a touch annoyed that he was making you chase after him, and the warrior mercifully slowed to a stop. He did not turn around, he was not that polite, but his helmet did shift, and that was enough to give you the courage you needed.

You averted your eyes as you placed yourself in front of him, but stared at his knees with determination as you held out your arms, gift light in weight and heavy in value.

“I know you said you would not take extra payment, but you need this, and we will no accept no for an answer.” You had rehearsed the words with every step you’d taken towards his back, but still they came out unsteady.

“No,” he said, and you almost imagined laughter in his voice, but it was not mocking, and it pierced through your hesitation.

Sand ground against his feet as he went to move, and again under yours as you dug in your heels, venturing to look the mask full on.

“Please reconsider – it is a med kit with high quality bacta tools.” You tried to look as confident as you felt.

The Mandalorian's helmet tilted at you again, as he said, “What?”

Finally you had his full attention.

“My family, harvests from destroyed med droids sometimes, to get supplies, and we’ve got a lot of it saved up now.” Resolve was heavy in you, sinking your feet even deeper, willing you to stay in his way. “We owe you a great debt; this is a more honest gratitude than credits.” Something told you that your eyes had found his, through the T of his visor.

“If not for you, then for the little one,” you added, quieter, not that he couldn’t use it himself. After freeing your town more or less by accident, he was covered in scrapes and bruises in between the beskar. This gift was invaluable for bringing him back home in one piece.

Slowly, thoughtfully, he took it, his gloved hands surprisingly gentle. The air was suddenly awkward, and you worried briefly thay you had somehow insulted him.

“Thank you,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, his tone was almost bashful.

“Thank you,” you replied, smiling at him, before you remembered to be demure, and you ran off, heart racing.

His gaze might have followed you, if the hairs on the back of your neck were any indication, but you didn’t look back until you ducked into your building. The feeling returned – of meeting his eyes – and then he was turning away and you were alone.

You had your own home, made of smooth clay and filled with repurposed objects and materials. Chairs made from old racing bike seats and a bed full of scraps of fabric. You sunk into your favorite corner – your workbench and table. Piles of broken droid pieces were in a relatively organized pile nearby, and you grabbed one and began gently disassembling it. Soft clinks and the gentle squeaks of metal were music to your ears, even though you didn’t know anything about the mechanics, you loved the process of finding beautiful things in the chaos of wires and washers.

“Your family, huh?” the voice was low and amused, with a touch of something lighter, almost nervous?

The Mandalorian was at your door, curtain pushed aside to make room for his large frame. The grease stains on your hands became incredibly interesting as you shrugged, confused as to why he was here, in your home? Wasn’t he leaving not so long ago?

“I am my own family,” you tried to laugh, the awkwardness from before returning.

“Why are you… is there… do you need…?” you felt flustered, not wanting to offend him but trying to ask what in the world was happening.

“Would you want to come with me?” his words came out quickly, rushed and little too loud. Instinctively, you flinched, before even fully processing his question.

“What?” you looked more towards him, his movements seemed irritated as he looked away.

“I looked at the medkit and I don’t know half of what’s in it. I need some help anyway, with the kid, and,” he gestured noncommittally to the room and you understood.

“Okay,” you said. He was right, this was barely a home. And after all he’d done for the town, the least you could do was help him out for awhile.

For all he was covered head to toe, he still looked startled. But he nodded, curtly and walked back out the door.

You scrambled to shove your own stock of things into a bag and ran after him, feet thumping in the sand, mind racing.

Traveling with the Mandalorian was … not what you expected.

When he has first appeared in your town and you had beheld him, with his armor and weapons and swirling cape, you thought to yourself, this man is like a summer storm. Powerful, destructive, and beautiful from a distance. If you got to close you would be overwhelmed with him, his life, and there would be little room for survivors.

You were in awe of him, but afraid.

Apparently, not so afraid as to follow it, but you waited for it to hit you, tear your apart, and leave you in pieces.

You thought it would come on his next outing to find work, as his contact scoffed at your presence, but it didn’t.

Then maybe, it would come after the second mission, when it had come sooner than expected and you’d been there, improvising against his orders trying to keep you all alive. It didn’t then, either.

Long nights were spent, talking quietly, and you would show him how to use the creams and the sprays to heal himself, and you waited. The longer it took, the more sure you were that it was building, behind the armor, and he would grow sick of you, sick of your questions and touches and presence.

It was almost cruel, that you couldn’t find any evidence of it building, somewhere, anywhere. You had been told your whole life that a man like him would hurt you. You had even seen it, time and time again, and the images haunted you. It was unfair that you got all those wonderful moments with him first. Moments when he would get excited and eager and awkward at your kindness, or when he would open up with halting, thoughtful phrases, or when he would prioritize your safety, even over his own. Because how could you have those moments, and still survive when they were inevitably taken from you?

Maybe the waiting was the storm, because it was consuming you.

You found him in the cockpit, hating that you had a chair of your own to sink into.

“I think I should go home,” you whispered, fixing your gaze on the stars. He turned to look at you; you didn’t have to see it to know. The silence was loud and you felt the first tremble in your hands. Maybe asking would be the final straw?

“I don’t understand,” he said, carefully, and you heard the confusion in his voice and to your surprise, a touch of hurt.

“I…” you hadn’t prepared for this part. The words came more honestly than you intended, “I am afraid.”

Once, Din had seen a spaceship torn apart midflight. It cracked open at the same time as it caved in on itself.

That was how he felt, hearing those quite words, out of the mouth of his companion.

His voice was broken in a way that he could not blame on the helmet.

“Of me, cyar'ika?”

You took so long to answer, hope and fear pooled together blending in his chest. It was hard to think, hard to sit side by side suspended in the sky and to think.

“Of what you must be,” finally you admitted. A little more hope dripped in. Din thought he must be almost nothing. Other than his creed, and his role as the little ones buir, he could – would – be anything he wanted.

“What must I be?” he asked, and you seemed frustrated, like it was unfair that he didn’t already know.

“You are a warrior – strong and powerful and…” you swallowed, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “And those who are like that tire of those who are like me. And when you do, it will hurt.”

His gloved hands slid over the plates on his thighs, almost dancing with thought.

“Have I shown you that I tire of you?” he asked, and you had to close your eyes, searching, almost desperately, for a single time that he had.

Your “No,” was barely audible.

“That’s because I have not,” he answered almost as quietly. “I will not.”

The certainty, the fear, built up for years and years of warnings and reminders, was slipping through your fingers, and his hand was filling them. It sent a shock through you, but you didn’t push him away.

Suddenly you realized that you could’ve, that he would have let you – and another shock came.

Even through the glove, his hand was warm, and for the first time you allowed yourself to acknowledge to yourself that it was gentle.

“Are you tired of me?” he asked and the question sunk into your soul. He was the strongest man you’d ever met, capable of destroying everything in his path. He was holding your hand, asking for permission to keep you by his side.

This “No,” was louder, more resolute.

“Then this is your home,” he said, with even more determination. “And I will protect you.”

For the first time, you felt like you were seeing and hearing him clearly, fully. Not as you had been told to, but as he actually was. Even the unsaid words were clear.

The Mandalorian would not hurt you.

It would take time to unlearn, but you took a deep breath, and held onto his hand, and let a little bit of your fear go. It made room for something else, in your heart, something better.

Din felt it too, and his own resolve strengthened. He could show you – those people existed, but he, with you, would not be one of them. Even more than that, he wanted to be your comfort. It would take time, too, but now, at least he had that.

He didnt even need to say anything, only shoot you a look, and you knew. Under the helmet his face was surely as panicked as yours, and fast as a blaster shot you were on a bike, child tucked into your chest, racing away.

There had been local festival and you all had been excited after finishing a job, too intoxicated by the easy victory to remember the price it came with. You shouldn've known better - gotten out while you were ahead, but now that didnt matter because sharp, electric objects were flying past your head and wind was whipping in your hair and you were scared.

The Crest was barely within reach, you knew that, unable to stop desperately checking the fuel on the bike. The attacks were slowing and you tore your gaze up to look for Din, willing him to be close. It was getting cooler, both suns dipping towards the horizon and all you wanted to do was get out of range, get to the Crest, all safe.

You felt a prickle on the back of your neck, and before you registered that it wasn't warm and inviting, you were face to mask with someone as covered as the a man you wanted, but who was far, far worse.

Everything was a blur. There was sharp pain on your back and your thighs tensed, gripping the bike and the child and shooting your blaster for all you were worth. The ship was in sight, and then you were on it, and the door was closing and you hadn't been sure you were breathing but you couldnt start yet because it wasnt over.

Pain was radiating from your back and there was boom and bangs of fists and weapons on the shell of the ship and most importantly, Din was not back yet.

You blindly slapped a healing patch onto yourself before lowering yourself into the darkest corner of the ship, the child still close to your pounding heart. Your tried to focus on the sounds of the machines around you, tried to remind yourself that you had healing tools in case... in case he needed them. The thing about safe spaces is that they never overlapped with the ones that let you see what was going on, which only amplified your terror.

Maker, you didnt know why you were so scared but when you heard familiar footsteps and shining beskar came into view, the relief you felt was overwhelming. You breathed again.

It felt like there should have been a light show or a musical fanfare, how free you suddenly felt, it was a new and bizarre sensation but nothing... happened.

And then you realized.

"You are okay," he breathed, almost disbelieving, as the two of you stood, soaking in each other's miraculously living presence. There was a tightness to his posture, stress visible in his frame.

His breathing was ragged, cracking through the helmet, but he turned and out of habit you both moved away, remembering the danger just outside.

Your mind was racing as your forced yourself to set up everything properly, make sure the child was safely tucked away and the ship was secure and ready to fly. Feeling liftoff sent another wave of relief and shock through you, and your feet carried you up, up and around to the cockpit to find Din. By the time you reached him, the Crest was sailing through the stars, and the air in the cockpit matched that of before. Your hands had found the medkit you'd given him, all those months ago, updated by you regularly, and you held it out to him, almost in a trance.

Din took it before setting it aside, and turning to you. His arms opened, feeling suddenly vulnerable, in an action he'd never really done before.

You took his offer without hesitation, sinking into his arms, ignoring the rough edges of the beskar. It was one thing, to see him be gentle when it was a quiet night, and another entirely when intensity and his own fear and anger had been running high. It gave you the final note of bravery you needed to profess your realization.

"You make me feel safe, Din," you whispered into the cloth around his neck. One of his hands found the patch you'd put on, fingers barely tracing its edges.

"I do?" If possible, his voice was even more ragged than before.

You nodded, knowing he would feel it, and unable to say more.

After long, exposed moments, there was a shift and you both moved to sit in your respective chairs, not fully able to look at each other just yet. You wondered if his face felt as warm as yours did, or if he could feel the ghost of the shape of you, as his lingered on your skin.

The silence was comfortable, but still he asked, "Are you still afraid?" And you pondered the question, reflecting on all the little moments you had waited for the hurt to come, and it hadn't. The moments he protected you from them, as he had today.

"Less and less," you said eventually, relishing the honesty on your tongue.

Din reached over and took your hand again.

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #maybe i don't know people #there were a lot of scenes i considered for this fic #hopefully its okay #its 2 am

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Text

Icy Wind. Yan Alucard x Reader

Warnings: Isolation and typical yandere elements. Word count: 1.3k. Note: this is my secret santa gift for @monstrouslyobsessed!! i was excited to see that you liked hellsing ultimate... your taste is immaculate... anyways, i really hope that you enjoy your gift! <333333

You long for a fulfilling night of sleep.

To be able and close your eyes when the moon shines above, uninhibited by troubles, no longer plagued by all-consuming anxiety. It is but a simple request, you believe. There were days where for hours on end you’d bargain for more than that. Freedom used to be the primary objective, what you believed to be your only salvation, a possibility never within reach. No longer do you aim for the stars and beyond. You’ve had to settle for what’s in front of you, a realistic goal such as a good night’s rest, and even then you’re denied it.

Blades of grass brush against your bare feet, a winter chill reducing your body to a shivering mess. Teeth chattering and body bunched over, your arms wrap around your torso in a pitiful attempt to preserve heat. It makes logical sense to return inside the manor. At least then you could sit by the fireplace to ward off the cold. Whether it’s foolishness or out of malice towards him, you’ve elected to stay out here, holding nothing but contempt for the mansion walls that serve as your prison.

Another gust of wind whistles by, biting your flushed cheeks. Barren tree branches, overgrown thickets, and dry leaves rustle underneath the wind’s intensity. Maybe it would be best to go back inside, you consider. Still, the thought of proving Alucard right is too strong a blow to your pride to concede yet. It’s a childish thing you’re doing -- even you can acknowledge that -- but what else do you have, other than to spite your captor?

He had instigated this. Tempting you by temporarily removing the locks in the rickety mansion that you’ve been forced to occupy. What had started as a late-night walk to fend off your insomnia escalated into you confronting him, belittling his possessive nature, and demanding a real opportunity at freedom. Much to your surprise and his amusement, he had relented. Or at least on a surface level. Alucard himself had swung the doors wide open, presenting you with an opportunity for time outside.

Which leads to your current predicament.

Traversing the surrounding woods at night would be a nightmare, so you’ve been passing this time outside by sitting on a moss-covered bench. The initial high from being outdoors has worn off, replaced with frigid temperatures cutting deep into your bones. You wonder if Alucard would allow you to freeze to death. Or would he intervene at the least possible second, the curse of being his lover never coming to an end. Damn him.

“So you intend to keep up this stubborn act,” a deep voice drawls, the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Should I be impressed or insulted?”

When a person out of sight is speaking, it’s a natural response to search for where they stand. You’ve learned that this rarely works with Alucard. His voice reverberates from every conceivable location, engulfing and drowning you, a testament to his inorganic disposition.

“Do with it what you will.” Your response doesn’t sound as malicious as you wanted, weakened by your deteriorating state. It looks like your earlier guess of Alucard interfering only when your life is in danger turned out to be true. Even now, when facing an icy demise, you refuse to beg for help. He can go to hell for all I care, you think. If even hell would muster the courage to try and chain him down.

Alucard’s voice hums, a deep, guttural sound. “Was it something I said?”

Clutching your knees to your chest, you huddle together even tighter for warmth. To narrow Alucard’s grievances against you down to a single statement is impossible. He’s always had a penchant for working you up, now is no different. The wintery weather seems to have gotten worse. Every time you manage to exhale, a white cloud appears in front of your face, a further testament to the extreme temperature.

“Let’s go with that.” You rub your shaking hands together and blow air onto them.

“Strange, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Alucard’s voice swirls around you like the wind. “You did say that you wanted to go out if memory serves.”

Really? He’s out here to poke fun at you? It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the audacity he displays is never short of amazing. Even working up an emotional response like frustration is too much at this point. Your entire body is working overtime to hold onto life. Ah, that’s strange, you think. The way your ears are ringing, an eerie, high pitched noise. Black dots appear and disappear, obscuring your vision. It’s light. Everything feels so, terribly light.

You’re not sure what happens next.

When you wake, the setting is vastly different from where you had just been. There’s warmth, that’s the first thing you notice, coming from different sources. Blankets on top of your person and a roaring fireplace. So he brought you back to your room. Groaning, you wince at how your head pounds violently, not having the necessary strength to even lift your head.

“Next time, I’d prefer it if you let me die.”

There’s no tangible evidence that Alucard is nearby, but you still say the words, uncaring if he hears them or not.

“It’d be a pitiful death,” comes his response. “Why not ask for a more memorable one?”

You sigh, knowing that answering the question will lead to more provocative remarks, but still do it anyway. “Are you telling me you’d grant it?”

“I never said that.”

“Figures.”

Exhaustion weighs heavy on your weary soul. Maybe now you’ll be granted the mercy of a good night’s rest, though you try not to get your hopes up. You see Alucard beginning to materialize into a physical form, the sight nothing new, yet you’ve never been able to get used to it. Glimmers of midnight black and deep crimson create a shadow reminiscent of a human man. Flesh forms, filling out over bone, pallid in its coloration. His typical attire of blood-colored fabrics flows into creation around his person before he finally towers over you by your bedside. Inhuman eyes pierce through your weakened form, holding no flickers of humanity.

A monster.

“And here I thought you might thank your savior for saving you from an early death,” Alucard’s voice is amused, despite the dark context. “Instead, I find you glaring at me.”

“For good reason.” You bring the blanket over your head, not wanting to see him any longer, irritation growing. Why can’t he just leave you alone? It’s a question that, when asked, serves only to perturb you further. Alucard claims each time that your little interactions are of great importance to him. Whatever that means, you think.

“You’re the only human I’ve seen fit to have pity on,” he reminds, making you frown. “Thousands have begged for what you so easily dismiss.”

Indignant, you pull the blanket down, blood boiling at his inflaming comments. “Like any of that is my fault. What did you expect me to do? Praise you to the high heavens for keeping me far away from any other living being?”

He’s smiling at your outburst as if it were an entertaining show. It’s too late, but you realize this is exactly what he wanted, to see you getting all worked up over his purposefully upsetting words. Sighing in defeat, you lay back down on the mattress and squeeze your eyes shut, fully intending to ignore anything else he sees fit to say. If he wants to play dirty, then so be it.

Alucard reaches his gloved hand out to your face, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, displaying a gentleness you thought impossible from a demon like him. It’s a featherlight touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake. Almost as if your body was attempting to reject it, aware of the heinous crimes those very hands have committed.

“Rest well, my sweet little [First].”

#Alucard #Hellsing Alucard #alucard x reader #yandere alucard #hellsing ultimate #hellsing ultimate imagines #yandere alucard hellsing #hellsing #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

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warmau · 4 years

Text

slytherin!au san

*this post was commissioned | find other ateez aus here warnings: suggestive themes (no strings attached situation), hp themed au but we ignore jkrowling <3

something crawls across your desk

round and dark and you don’t have to look twice to know what it is

part of you wants to turn and look over your shoulder where you are painfully aware of the fact that san is eyeing you up

he’s always sat at the back of potions - while you sat diligently in the front and part of you suspects its a strategical ploy on his end

actually, you don’t expect, he has told you many times before that the view is just better from back there

it’s sleazy and you should scoff at the attempt of bad flirtation

but it’s hard for you to hate it as much as maybe the rest of your gryffindor housemates might

because

you like san

but

you aren’t about to let anyone in school know

so instead of looking behind you, you take your wand and flick the spider off the corner of your desk

it falls - disappearing in a little cloud of smoke midair

san’s always said he prefers them to snakes, he knows his whole houses deal with snakes slithers back to the ancestral wizards and bloodlines - but arachnids are so much cooler in his opinion

you don’t like bugs or snakes or anything that likes the cover of darkness

the only exception funny enough is ...... well......... san

“so did you get a date to the deathday party?”

you break from thought and turn to your friend

“huh - we don’t need a date for deathday parties. it’s just halloween basically.”

“but it’s so much more fun to have someone to cuddle up to while the ghosts do all their prancing around....like what if you get scared and your boyfriend just........”

she clasps her hands around herself

“holds you~”

you roll your eyes and close your textbook

you pull your worksheet out and get up to place it on the professors desk

they smile and wave their hand to let you know you’re free to go, you say bye to your friend who grumbles in response that you’re abandoning them

and as you walk down the rows of students - you reach the back of the room

you don’t pause when you reach out for the door, but you feel the same gaze that's been burning through you since san transferred here last year

you thought you’d be disgusted with it by now

but you’ve come to enjoy the slight, hot sting

“so, about that deathday party?”

you groan

you don’t want to talk about stupid trivial school events right now

with sans lips against your neck and your back against the cool walls of the greenery

instead of an answer you just tilt his head back up, gripping under his jaw and letting your mouth find his in an attempt to kiss him, of course, but to stop him from asking anymore questions

san kind of gets your point and his hands slip from under your robes lower

until they’re pressing into the skin of your hip and then

his teeth sink into your lower lip and you pull back

“hey - i said don’t do tha-”

“do you want to go to the deathday party with me?”

you give him a blank stare

you hope he gets the point of it too, but with the way he hasn’t gone back to touching you, it’s clear he’s waiting for an actual verbal response

“you know we can’t just show up to a party together.”

“why not?”

his hands leave your skin and your uniform falls back into place, he moves a little but still remains standing between your knees

the sudden retreat of full contact makes you upset and you hook your foot around his to tug him forward

instead of tipping over and into you, he puts a hand flat on your thigh

“seriously, why not? are you scared that people will be mad about it.”

“no - you know that isn’t the reason.”

“then what is?”

you sit up and want to tell him the real answer

the one that has been bubbling in the back of your mind these past couple of weeks

it had really just been for fun, a thrilling and almost wholly self-serving reason

when you let san, a slytherin who was barely managing to pass half his classes, and notoriously known for being quite uninterested in studies, magical morality, or any of the things you held so near and dear to your heart

corner you in the history section of the library

the books ruffling their pages on their own to hide the sound that came out of your mouth when he’d bit down into your skin for the first time

really you had just wanted to do something reckless

because you were well on your way to being perfectly clean cut in every other manner

but now - if you were to be completely truthful with him - you couldn’t just say

“the reason is because im just using you. you mean nothing to me.”

because through all the sneaking around in tight corners

using disappearing spells to hide from teaches and classmates

finding yourselves alone in that room of his

far down the twisting halls of the slytherin dungeon

you had fallen for all the charms of a person you had told yourself you should loathe

but san’s embarrassingly bad flirting, desperate manner of scratching to be as close as possible to you, loud and attention hungry attitude

had spun tight around you

because he was all those things, but through it all - through the bedroom eyes and lips on your thighs

he was one of the most gentle people who had ever laid hands on you

sure, you two could get caught up in a firestorm of young energy that would lead to both of you parting ways with evidence under the layers of your clothes that you’d admire in the mirror of your bathroom for days after

but that’s not what you meant when you described him as gentle

it was his soul, that was at the core, tender

little pretty whispers about your neck, your wrist, your eyes

sometimes when you were just talking there was the righteousness that people said he lacked laced through each, carefully chosen word

he could seem like a wreck of a person to everyone, even his own friends

but you’d somehow managed to catch the moments

of him that were most vulnerable

soft gaze that waits with manner to know if you are comfortable and safe with him, poetic words about the shadows of your bodies, there was even a mark of true faithfulness

when you two had almost gotten caught by a angry upperclassman

and san had let you escape before turning himself in and being slapped loud and hard and echoing

“who was with you?”

the angry voice had barked and san had stood with his hands clasped in each other, knuckles white

“no one. i was alone.”

so now when he asks you what the reason is that you don’t just want to let the world know

why you don’t want to make a statement

that this fling isn’t just that shallow pleasure seeking adventure you had intended it to start as and end as

but that it’s two people - that really fit each other like puzzle pieces

you can only think of the real answer

which is

“im scared. im scared that you don’t mean it as much as i do.”

you don’t mutter those words, you just keep quiet again instead and san finally slips completely away from you

he grabs his robe, hands curling around the green collar

“saying nothing is enough of an answer.”

you slide off the table and try to stop him

but your hand doesn’t leave your side and your knees are weak

and you’re worried that too much noise will make someone curious come looking

so you just watch him weave through the plants, until he’s gone.

he’s really gone.

the days seem to start going backwards ..... even though the dates get closer and closer to the end of the month

maybe its you that starts to function on some kind of made up timeline? because everywhere and everyone you look

is somehow san

the couples sitting in the courtyard sharing food, notes, kisses - they’re you and san

the solitary roaming owls circling the sky with letters in tow - all the letters you imagine rain down

and when you pick one up it says his name, written with the pen strokes that you’ve seen flipping through his textbooks

even the spells that leave your lips while you practice just turn to chants of his name

but he doesn’t .... come back like you wait for. he’s not in the classes you share. he’s not waiting in the secret corners you’ve both chosen.

he’s nowhere and yet everywhere for you.

the night of the deathday celebration - the entire school is buzzing

not only are the ghosts all out to chatter and reminisce about their time as the living

but the students are rushing up and down between the houses in costumes and masks

you shove your face into your pillow and snap your fingers, commanding the door to your room to shut

only to be knocked on a moment later

you shout your roommates name, telling them to get it

you’re in no mood to celebrate. you just want to fall deeper and deeper into your bed until you’ve completely disappeared from view

you hear the scurrying of footsteps, laughter, and conversation and then suddenly a hand grabs your shoulder and flips you over

“get up! we’re going to the party!”

your roommate gleams with a grin and you politely, but harshly refuse

“but your date will be so sad if you don’t show up!”

you spring up at the word date. a part of your stomach flips and you think - is there anyway it could be him?

your friend takes your shift in expression as a positive sign, whisking you up and out of bed - putting something that feels like a headband on your head - and pushing you toward the door

you haven’t seen san for a week

even though you feel as if the thought of him has more than tortured you every hour of every day

so even with the chances being slim, you feel your shoulders tense and a nervousness seep in through your veins

did he really come all the way to the gryffindor tower? is he finally coming back? did he tell my friends he-

but you look up when you get to the hall and instead of san you see

kim hongjoong

he’s standing beside mingi, who is twirling your roommate around and giggling in unison with them

“i-”

you start and hongjoong extends his hand

“your friend said you wanted to ask me to the party, but didn’t have the time. but ill gladly take you if you’d like.”

you stare at his palm

then back at him and the pretty prince’s costume he has on

he’s actually exactly what you should want

he’s in the top ten students of the ravenclaw house, he took OWLs early, he has been interning at the ministry of magic since he was a fourth year

he’s clean cut, gentlemanly, quiet spoken, and just - perfect

like you

but your stomach flips again, in a bad way, in a way that’s telling you

no you don’t want to go to this party with him, but to refuse him to his face is somehow even worse than just giving in

so you put your hand in his with a fabricated smile, that somehow is enough to convince everyone else.

until you hear mingi let out a sound of surprise, you turn and look at him - fully expecting him to read through your fake happiness

but instead he points the floor

“spider!”

you turn and see the spider

“sa-”

hongjoong crushes it with his shoe - hand still holding yours

“got it, should we head to the party?”

so you end up in a familiar place with an unfamiliar persons hands on your waist

dancing in the low light of the slytherin dungeons dorm

which has been transformed with pumpkin lighting and live music where every time the beat drops a bolt of electricity sparks from every corner

the ghosts, always fond of the cold and the dark, had chosen this as the venue for the deathday party

and although the headmaster and professors were looking grim about the prospect of the dorms being absolutely trashed

everyone else was having a blast

drinking spiked candy corn punch and pressing closer than mandated by the rules

prefects were running around casting spells to push people from each other, but they were just snapping back into each other like magnets

and in the shadows and heat of everyone else you can’t help but think about san again

you are looking at hongjoong, you are trying to focus on something he is saying about the music

but the wires of your mind are tangling and twisting and turning his hands on your waist into sans and his eyes into sans and his lips into sans-

it takes you a moment because you’re so dazed

to realize the lips you’re dreaming about aren’t kissing you, but hongjoong is

you pull back in horror and he mumbles an apology - but you turn, sensing something daunting

when you see - against the wall - staring right at you is the gaze that’s been on you for so long that you can never mistake it for another

“san!”

you gasp, and your hands drop from hongjoong’s shoulders, fast enough to watch san turn and disappear through the doors

“san?”

hongjoong repeats

“the slytherin? why are you-”

you rush toward him, pushing past the bodies that all seem to meld into one and other

the electricity zaps just as the door closes and it makes you jump and when you push it back open

the sound and the crowd shrinks

and you are looking down a dark, cold hall

you take your wand out and spark a small light from the tip - “san?” you call his name

legs shaking, voice a small tremble

there’s no answer

you keep going - subjecting yourself to the deeper parts of the dungeon until you think you’ve walked almost the entire hall and in front of you is a wall

something crawls up the side of your leg and you freeze

“san?”

you breathe again - but there’s no response and the feeling keeps coming up your skin, up your clothes, up and onto your neck and then

just as you think you can feel it begin to crawl up to your lips

it disappears and you turn because something like a flame starts to bloom from the center of your back

and when you do

it’s san

a spider crawls across his cheek, disappearing into smoke on him too

you don’t want to settle your breathing yet

you feel like you’ve been bounded to the spot you’re standing in

“you could have just told me there was someone else.”

“there isn’t.”

“i saw it - you can’t just -”

he starts, voice dropping until you think there’s only one thing you can say that would prove to him that it’s him

“i want to be with you.”

his eyes, long and overcasted with pain, widen

“being without you is like being without myself”

you stumble over the words - unfamiliar with this feeling of anxiety that has never grasped you so fully

“it’s stupid to be scared of you leaving me, but i am more terrified that i won’t have you at all to begin with.”

he is searing through you with the gaze

but the flame that used to burn hot with desire is now a cool, blue fire

that is scoping you out, weighing your words in his mind

until he presses his lips to yours and you lean back against the wall to let your hands find his neck

“i won’t leave you.”

he breathes into your skin

his scent floating around you and comforting you in the dark as you drop your wand and the only light you two had is gone

“you might even get sick of me and ask me too, but i won’t because i love you.”

you want to laugh at that

not because it is funny but because he must be insane

to think you’d ever get sick of him

even a week without him has left you suffering in withdrawl, for the first time it’s you who san can’t keep up with

as you kiss him back harder and lick into the roof of his mouth and pull your hands under his shirt

and he has to nearly stop you from undressing him there - because you just want to devour this moment over and over

until the taste of him is ingrained in your memory and you can recall what its like to have his pulse against your tongue even if a million miles separate you

san returns the sentiment, his hands itch too to find the places he adores most but even still

the entire school is a hallway away, so is the headmaster

so he lets you kiss him again, mark the side of his jawline and get your hands down to his belt before he mutters that he knows a shortcut to his room from here

you and san don’t return to the party

but the house ghosts saw you

and in the morning when san is walking down the gryffindor hall from your dorm

everyone knows very damn well why he’s there

the shock the questions the side eyes are all what you expected

but they don’t compare to the comfort that comes with having him beside you again

sitting with him at the top of the tower, legs swinging over the side, his smile in your neck

“i think its kinda cool that our anniversary is on halloween”

he comments one day as you’re sitting in his lap in slytherin commons

you turn to look at him

“wait, did you have a costume for the deathday part - what was it? i didn’t see.”

“oh you didn’t notice?”

you shake your head and san plays with your fingers before grinning up at you - long cheshire smile

“i was dressed as your boyfriend. fitting huh?”

you lean forward and he puckers his lips in anticipation, but then yelps when you flick his forehead

“i think you might have been right about that getting sick of you predication.”

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #san scenarios #san imagines #san au #ateez #suggestive themes #members: ateez #choi san imagines #choi san au #writing commissions #hp!au

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star-lemonade · 3 years

Text

Iced Americano

Ateez Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: fluff

Cw: being tapped in an elevator

Rating: G

Word count: 2.2 k

The coffee shop on the ground floor of the building you worked in was a fixture in your daily routine. Every morning you would enter through the glass door and get in line. There were a few tables, but at this time in the morning no one was sitting down. Everyone wanted a coffee to go. The line for the counter seemed to get longer every day. You should not wish for any one to get laid off, but you wanted the guy fired. The barisa was a young man but that did not he was agaile in any way. He was slow and made a lot of mistakes. He did not want to be there, it was written all over his face. Every day you wished that he would quit. It was mean, but he would do better somewhere else. Yes, he should do something that he actually enjoyed.

Today was the day where everything was different. It was your usual time, but there was barely a queue. You got in line after two men in suits and soon it was your turn. It became clear why there was no queue. The old barista had left and there he was, the cutest guy you had ever seen. He had a smile that everyone wanted to be the recipient of. It was so charming the phrase “to be wrapped around someone’s finger” suddenly made sense. There was a moment in which you just wanted to be in any shape that would please the cute guy with the two toned hair.

“Good Morning! What can I get you?”

He beamed at you and his voice was so cheerful, you automatically smiled back. The little beauty mark under his eye added to his already beautiful face.

“Ehm… one iced americano.”

...and your number, please. You did not say that out loud of course, but you definitely thought about it, when you were at your desk. He must get that a lot.

Mornings got way more relaxed and exciting. You found yourself looking forward to seeing the cute barista. He did not wear a name tag so you did not know what his name was and you were too awkward to ask him. These days you could be found at the coffee shop in the afternoon too. You would get something that was not coffee and sit down at a table. For ten minutes or so you would get your mind off work and watch the barista work. You marveled at little drawings he made on the cappuccinos and the ease with which he handled his work. He had fun, genuine fun, doing his work. It was not something you saw often. For most people their work was soul crushing and they would not do it, if it was not for the money they needed to pay their bills. The barista however loved it to make coffee and other drinks for the customers.

It was Thursday evening and no one was in the office any more. Well, almost no one. It was just you and the three people, who had a meeting in one of the conference rooms. You had finished what you had to do, but at what cost? The summer sun was setting outside. It was late already. You shut down the computer and stretched. It had been a long day and going home was your only objective now. How nice it would be to fall into bed and sleep! Tomorrow was your day off and you intended to sleep in. Before leaving you went to the restroom. I look as tired as I feel. You pouted at your reflection. It did not help.

When you returned to your desk to get your bag, the room was filled with the smell of coffee. The meeting must still be going for a while, when they drink coffee at this hour. Although there was Mike in there and he could drink coffee whenever.

The elevator was already on your floor and the door opened immediately. You pressed the button for the ground floor. Finally, work was over.

“Wait!”

A shout echoed in the empty hallway. You pressed the button to keep the doors open and a moment later he entered. The barista from down stairs. He was still wearing his uniform.

“Thanks!”

He flashed you a smile and the doors closed. You stood in one corner of the elevator and he stood in the other. The only sound in the small room was the noise of the machine descending. You were alone with him for the first time, maybe you should say something? The number over the door counted down 15,14,13. He had his hair up in a half ponytail that exposed the blond layer in the back of his head. Even though he looked more tired than you had ever seen him, he was still beautiful. You had a hard time trying not to stare.

The lights flickered and with a crunch the elevator jerked to a hold. You grabbed the railing, but the sudden movement of the elevator sent you to the floor anyways.

The normal white light had been replaced by the dim red wash of the small emergency light.

“Are you okay?”

The barista was still on his feet and offered you his hand. In the dim light it was hard to make out his face.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

You took his hand and he helped you up. The elevator was not moving anymore. The faint surring of the fan and your breathing were the only sounds in the room. Your eyes started to adjust to the new situation and you saw the red bell button next to the door.

“Looks like the elevator is stuck. Let’s try calling someone.”

You stepped closer to the panel with the buttons and pressed the button with the bell on it. An almost inaudible electric buzz came from behind the button.

“Hello?”

A tinny voice came from the loudspeaker. It reminded you of old radio recordings, highly compressed and cut off at high and low frequencies.

“Hello. The elevator stopped and we are inside.”

You did not know where the microphone was so you just talked loud to the room.

“How many people?”

“Two.”

You glanced at your plus one who looked over your shoulder. He stood close to you and you felt his presence.

“Okay. First of all don’t panic. We will get you out but it will take 30 minutes for someone to arrive. I can’t open the doors alone. Okay?”

You looked over your shoulder. The barista was looking at the speaker then his glance flickered to meet your eyes.

“We will be okay.”

He answered with confidence.

“Good. if you don’t hear the fan moving press the fan button. See you soon.”

With that the disembodied voice vanished. You were alone.

“Looks like we’re going to be here a while.”

He sat down leaning against the wall opposite the door. You did not know what to do now. This was just perfect. You wanted nothing more than to go home, but here you were stuck in this metal box. Standing alone felt not appropriate so you put your back against the wall next to the panel and slid down.

“I’m Wooyoung by the way.”

He smiled even though today it was not as bright as usual. Now that you looked at him, you noticed that he looked more tired. It was late for him too. You introduced yourself.

“I know your name. You come to the cafe everyday.”

“Right.”

Oh my god, he knows my name. If you were not so tired and irritated by this situation you would be happy about that. You finally knew your crush’s name and knew that he remembers yours.

“Do you work here?”

“Yes, I do.”

You had an ordinary office job, so you did not know what else you should say about it. He had started the conversation, and you really wanted to continue it.

“What were you doing up there?”

You tried to make the question not accusatory. Whether it worked or not was unclear, but Wooyoung smiled.

“Someone called and asked for a delivery. We don’t really do that, but since it’s the same building, I said yes.”

“And now you're stuck here.”

You knew that they did not deliver because you had tried to place an order when you had just started to work there. What bad luck Wooyoung had had. He had been kind enough to make an exception but now he was trapped on the elevator for an unknown time.

“It’s not so bad. Since I have good company”

He looked up at the ceiling. This almost shy behavior contrasted with his playful tone. You smiled to yourself.

“What do you do when you don’t work at the coffee shop?”

“Not much. Playing games and learning Italian.”

There was a small pause before ‘Italian’ and his shoulders tensed.

“Italian?”

Not a lot of people here learned the language, so naturally you wondered why he was learning it. Apparently this was the question he had dredded. Wooyoung loosely wrapped his arms around his legs.

“Is there a special reason?”

You paid attention to your tone when asking this question. It felt like you were on a minefield trying to avoid what would upset him.

“I want to go to Italy and learn more about coffee there.”

He looked at his hands. The bracelets on his wrist looked pretty on him. His shoulders slumped slightly.

“Wow, that’s so cool!!”

Wooyoung‘s head shot up, eyes wide open in the dim light.

“Really? You don’t think that’s dumb?”

You could almost see his eyes sparkle. Damn, he is so cute.

“I have seen you make a cappuccino for a friend. It was super cool.”

Your friend and you had smiled at the cute pattern in the milk foam. It was more something you expected from a bit more expensive coffee shops.

“Thank you.”

Wooyoung beamed at you. Now that you thought about it, his reaction made sense. Most people do not see the value in doing such a menial task as making coffee. Who would want to work at a coffee shop, if they were not the menager? However there were people who enjoyed these things. They often ended up in jobs that paid more, but were less enjoyable.

“What do you do in your free time?”

You looked up, just now noticing that you had been lost in your thoughts. Wooyoung rested his chin on his hand and made you feel like you had his undivided attention.

“I play video games and I paint.”

These days you arguably spend too much time playing games. After coming home from work you had not enough energy to do anything productive. You just watched something or played games.

“You paint? That’s so cool!! Can you show me something?”

Wooyoung was thrilled. He leaned forward, eyes sparkling, hoping to see something you had painted. You wanted to say no, but his puppy eyes made it hard. You caved and pulled out your phone.

“I’m not very good, so don’t expect anything groundbreaking.”

You showed him some of the recent pieces you had done. Most of them were landscapes with some still lifes thrown in. Humans were simply too hard to draw and you did not have the patience to learn it.

“Woah. I like that one!”

Your face felt hot from his compliment and your heart skipped a beat, when you noticed how close he was. It was totally innocent of course. He had just moved closer to look at your phone, but the effect was still the same. Your heart hammered in your chest. Wooyoung looked up and you could see the little beauty mark under his eye. It was very pretty. He noticed how close you were and gave you some space.

“Wooyoung-”

BANG-BANG!

“Are you okay in there?”

A voice followed the banging on the elevator doors. The old building manager and a technician opened the door from the outside. They helped you climb up to the next floor. The air in the hallway was much better and the lights almost blinded you. Sitting in the artificial twilight of the emergency light had made your eyes sensitive.

You thanked them and together you and Wooyoung took the stairs. It was unlikely that the other elevator would get stuck too, but you just wanted to move your legs.

“They were pretty fast.” Wooyoung’s voice echoed in the empty staircase. “It wasn’t even 30 mintues.”

You nodded. That had been your chance to ask him out. Now that you were in the outside world again, you could not bring yourself to ask him.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your steps had synchronised as you walked down between floors 7 and 6.

“Sure.”

He stopped and looked at the floor. He bit his lip before saying: “Would you like to play some video games some time?”

You stared at him as heat was creeping up your face.

“I would love to.”

You smiled at him and he beamed right back at you.

#wkcnet #8makes1teamnet #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #kpop x reader #ateez x reader #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung fluff #noonasinnetwork

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amor-immortalem · 3 years

Text

Everything Undesired chapter 10

Chapter 9

After a quick diaper clothes change, Arella was quick to join the brothers at the table, Cyrus tucked comfortably in the crook if her arm. It felt like a normal morning, albeit just a tad quieter. Whether that be due to the events of the night prior or just in consideration of the baby, it wasn’t quite so clear. She took her usual seat next to the place where Mammon usually sat and began to eat. The only one who looked even a little uneasy was Levi likely due to how he felt about having been the one to suggest last night’s movie.

They all spoke casually amongst themselves as they ate, multiple of them having to stop Beelzebub from consuming the food that had been set aside for Mammon as the demon in question joined them shortly after. It had taken him a while to find clean clothes, realizing he really should do his laundry soon. It had probably been a good two or three weeks at least since he’d washed anything. With everything going on, he just didn’t have the energy lately. Thank the celestial realm for his human helping him out with his school clothes.

All their heads turned to him as he joined them at the table, a round of ‘good mornings’ rang out and he returned them. Two asked how he was feeling after last night, the rest carried on with their own side conversation figuring he didn’t need to answer the question four times over.

As breakfast came to a close, Arella took her leave to feed Cyrus once more and Mammon returned to his room to gather up his dirty clothes and begin the process of doing his laundry. Thankfully, it was the weekend which would give him enough time to have all five of his school uniforms ready to go while also not hogging the washer and dryer all day.

“Man, I gotta start doin’ my laundry more often...” The Avatar of Greed sighs. “The amount of clothes in here is ridiculous.” He hefts the basket of clothes into a more comfortable position in his arms and carries them down to the laundry room.

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“Mammon, do you want to go shopping with me?” The Avatar of Lust chirps as he catches up to his brother while he’s working on switching his clothes from the washer to the dryer, “I need a new outfit for date night tomorrow and I’m sure you could use a shopping spree too considering you haven’t really gone out to spend or visited the casino lately. Even last night, when the three of us took the baby out, you didn’t even buy anything. You know what happens if you let your sin build up.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just gimme a couple hours to get a couple more loads done. I’m kinda runnin’ outta clothes to wear.”

“Alright, three hours good?”

“Three hours is perfect.” The white haired demon says as he loaded another round of clothes into the washer. “Thanks, Asmo.”

The strawberry-blonde demon only nodded as he headed off.

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“Hey, Mams... Can we talk for a minute?” Levi asks as he approaches his brother.

“Yeah, I got a few minutes before I go out with Asmo. What’s up?”

It takes Levi a few minutes to speak. “I’m really sorry about last night. I should have screened before we watched it.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Ya said you had never seen it before and wanted to watch it with all of us, right? And you were so excited ‘bout it, so it’s fine.” he shrugs.

“But it wasn’t fair to you...” The Avatar of Envy frowns. “We shouldn’t have even watched a horror movie to begin with. I know you hate them but you still watch them with us anyway.”

“’Cuz I know you all like them so I jus’ bare with it for the time being. Y’all are my brothers, so I just want y’all to have fun even if I suffer for a bit. Y’know what you always say about me, I’m a masochist through and through.” He smiles, hoping to make his little brother feel better. “I don’t blame ya, so don’t blame yourself, ‘kay?”

The third-born only nodded, feeling minimally better after finding out the second-born didn’t blame him for what happened.

He ruffled Levi’s hair as he flashed him a smile. “Alright, I gotta go, love ya.”

“Love you too,”

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As the pair of demons walked down the street, Mammon was distracted. He was lost in thought as he thought back to the conversation he had with Arella. He thought about telling Asmo as even though Arella had told him she was comfortable with everything they had done together but he felt like she was telling him a half-truth just to spare his feelings.

“Are you alright, Mammon? You’re not as talkative as usual... Mammon?”

“Huh?” blue to gold gradient eyes look to his brother. “Yeah, I guess I’m alright. Just thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’...”

“Care to share?”

Mammon considers this for a few moments, deciding maybe he should tell his brother about what’s on his mind. “You can’t tell a soul about what I’m going to say, ‘kay?”

“No promises,” The demon says in a sing-song voice, “You have some good gossip?”

“It’s not gossip, Asmo. You absolutely have to promise you won’t tell anybody.”

Asmo’s eyes widened at his brother’s words and the serious tone in his voice. “Alright, what’s on your mind?”

“Arella told me something last night... She told me she was...” He’s not sure he can say it but thankfully Asmodeus seems to get the message.

“That’s horrible. How did it happen?”

“A quote unquote boyfriend drugged her drink when she was sixteen.” The demon has an irritated look on his face. “The bastard was twenty three, like who seeks out a teenager like that?”

“Boyfriend?” The Avatar of Lust has a disgusted look on his face. “Sounds more like a predator to me.”

“Right?! It makes my skin crawl just thinkin’ about it.” He exhales, “She’s such a good person and some monster takes advantage of her and does that?! If I could get a name and a face, I’d absolutely destroy him. The worst part? She blames herself for what happened, for making a mistake.”

“I’m not surprised,” Asmo frowned. “Considering how the human world treats women- she may very well have been told it was all her fault- especially as a minor? I don’t know what her family was like but to end up with that mindset, it’s very possible she didn’t have anybody to for her what we’re doing for you.”

Mammon only frowned at that. “Yeah and now I feel bad for pushing so hard. She said she wanted all that but I feel like she was only sayin’ that just to make me feel better. Is that wrong of me?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so... You love her so it’s only natural that you would worry about having forced her into a situation she didn’t want. But I also don’t think she would lie to you just to make you feel better. Can you remember a time where she’s ever been disingenuous with you?”

“No...”

“Then I think you should take her words at face value. In all actuality, I think she only told you because she wanted you to know you weren’t alone and she knows what you’re going through.” Asmo smiles as he pats Mammon’s shoulder. “And if you’re still worried about it, think of it this way: As long as you had a resounding ‘yes’ at all times from her, then you shouldn’t worry about whether or not you forced her to do it. Or you could do the adult thing and actually talk about your feelings as scary as that may be.”

Mammon only rolled his eyes at Asmo’s comments.

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The pair got home later than intended. As they split up, the Avatar of Greed made his way up to his room. Everything seemed to be fine, there was no baby crying and the house seemed at peace until he got to his room. He tossed his bag into the closet and slid down the railing on his staircase. That’s when he heard it, a small sniffling sound.

“Treasure?” He called softly as he approached the bed, placing a hand on the ball of blankets that his human had buried herself under. “Hey, look at me.”

A soft ‘no’ was heard from under the blanket followed by a ‘I’m alright, don’t worry’ which had the opposite effect on him. So, he just made himself comfortable beside his mate, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close so her back was pressed to his chest. When she was ready to talk, he would listen and if the baby monitor went off, he would do all the work tonight. It was the least he could do since she practically took care of their son on her own around the clock when he couldn’t even look at the child for the first few weeks.

He rubbed his thumb over her stomach in a motion that was meant to be comforting. While not exactly what he wanted to do, their position didn’t grant him much elsewhere to rub if he wanted to keep his arm wrapped around her, he hoped it would have the same effect. They just lay together in silence for a time as her sniffles slowly came to a stop. She was so quiet, Mammon thought she might’ve fallen asleep until she moved her head from under the covers and slowly turned to him, allowing him to move his hand to her side.

“Wanna talk about it?” The demon asked as she shook her head in response. She cried regularly for others but she wasn’t much for crying when it came to herself and when she did, it was often over nightmares she wouldn’t tell him about. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen. I don’t like to see you so upset and not be able to do anything to help you, Baby.” It was an offer he hoped she would finally take him up on. She only let out a sigh as she moved closer to him and he reached up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.

“I’m sorry I was so selfish last night...” She catches his hand in hers and just holds it to her cheek. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No...?” The Avatar of Greed wracks his memory from last night, trying to think of anytime she could have been selfish. “When were you selfish?”

“When I told you I had been assaulted...” Her response only leaves Mammon more confused. He hardly considered that to be selfish at all. She was only trying to reassure him everything he was going through was normal.

“How was that selfish?”

“I made the situation all about me when it should have been about you. I’m sorry.”

“No you didn’t? ‘Rella, Baby, you get to talk about your feelings and things that have happened to you too, y’know. Everything’s not always about me. Actually, it was kinda validating to know you understand what I’m going through.”

“No, I don’t. I just want to help but I always bring things back to me some way or another. My problems aren’t important. They’re not a big deal. I’m just attention-seeking and being selfish a-and-- mmph!”

He couldn’t take listening to his human, his treasure, bring herself down like that anymore, choosing to silence her with a kiss instead. When he pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together as he looked into her eyes, glossy from her earlier tears.

“Do you know what an amazin’ person ya are?” he asks as he rolls them so he’s leaning over her, “You get to talk about these things. Your problems matter. You're not bein’ selfish or attention-seeking when you talk about them. Hell, for somebody whose primary sin is greed, you’re probably the most selfless person that I know. You are patient ‘n kind ‘n giving. You do way more than anybody asks of ya. You give so much love and don’t ask for anything in return for it. I don’t know who the fuck put those thoughts in your head but ain’t none of ‘em true, got it?”

“It.... It was my mother....”

———————————————————————-

Find more on my Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #mammon angst #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me oc #arella #cyrus

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Sleeping with a Broken Heart

Summary: Late night pillow talk. Things get a little heated.

Author's note: Just a little cut scene after the latest chapter💕💕

"I can't ever forgive her."

He barely responds to her statement, those huge hands wrapped around her waist and lost in her thick tresses spilled across the pillow. He sniffles softly before stroking down the soft nape of her neck, his scent overwhelming under the plush blanket he'd tugged and swaddled them in. She has never left this kind of warmth, the scorching warmth that comes from being cared for and maybe something more that she's not brazen enough to even think.

Another first that belongs to this boy who's bulldozed his way into her broken life.

And now I'm irrefutably stuck.

"You don't have to. You don't owe her anything." The baritone of his voice sends an electric current down her spine and she snuggles in closer to hide the possible flush in her cheeks, her body is still out of her control. Easily he pulls her closer letting her find recluse in the depths of his cotton shirt.

He agrees with her so easily, asking no further questions or attempting to change her mind. Does nothing to invalidate her feelings and that alone makes her feel better, she doesn't have to do anything.

She doesn't own anyone anything.

Nobody but herself.

They simply lay there as the iridescent glow from the moon filters in through his blinds, casting an ethereal shine across the room. She makes the erroneous decision of gazing up at his face and finds herself lost in his beauty. His lashes are unfairly long and his skin is even more perfect up close, he's so handsome and she can't look away.

She grips his shirt tighter to prevent her hands from caressing those high cheekbones that have no business belonging to a boy.

She's so lost in those usurping thoughts that his words completely catch her off guard. Enough to make her choke on air.

"This is the first time I've had a girl in my room. On my bed."

He says it with a certain level of awe and something that sounds suspiciously like satisfaction and uncertainty flares in her stomach.

"You can't tell anyone about this!"

It's a stupid thing to say, she knows him well enough now. She can even say that she trusts him, he knows things about her that she would never utter to another soul but.... she's seen the other boys in their grade. Seen the machismo displays with complete disregard for their partners or the damning rumors that would follow them.

Whore. Slut. Easy.

High schoolers could be cruel she'd seen first hand how easily they would turn on each other, it had taken months to convince Jukyeong that they weren't going anywhere after her secret was cruelly posted for everyone to watch and gawk.

"Look at me." Her choice is taken away with the firm grip of his finger on her jaw, but his voice was enough to hypnotize her into complying without resistance. His eyes are hard and unyielding, "What happens between us is only for us to know. I don't want anyone thinking about you like that. Do you understand?"

How can he just make unabashed statements like that when she can feel her entire face swimming with blood?

"Do you not feel shame?"

"Of course I do. I feel a lot of things when I'm with you."

There he goes again.

Just turning her insides into mush with little to no effort, she hates it.

Or so she tries to convince herself.

"Stop making me feel like this." This time he draws away, placing his head on the fluffy pillow beside her so he can stare directly into her eyes. She struggles not to blink and look away, things are getting blurry with him looking at her like that and holding her so tightly and close.

She hadn't meant to say that, not like that anyway. She intended to sound firm and forceful trying to find resolve that she seemed to lose in his presence but everything in his eyes scream that her words have not been received that way.

He can barely contain his smile.

He looks like danger.

"How do I make you feel?"

Scared shit less. It's a lot less romantic than he's probably hoping for but truly the best way she can decipher the surge of unknown emotions that manifest when he's there looking at her like she's something precious.

Like she's delicate instead of broken and ugly.

"Nervous." She goes with instead. Barely lying.

He scoffs loudly at her reply and immediately she starts to twist away, feeling too naked and vulnerable.

But he won't let her go, his hands are like iron branding her through the thick material of his own sweater on her skin.

"How do you think you make me feel?" He shoots right back at her and she's speechless, she hadn't fathomed that he was feeling anything much less exactly what she's feeling when he's this close and she just wants to touch. He answers his own question while she's still coming to terms with this epiphany.

"You drive me crazy. Having you in my bed is driving me crazy, I can barely resist."

She stares wide eyed as he bares himself to her again, fearless where she is brimming with fear and anxiety.

Can she live like that?

She takes a steadying breath, before responding.

"Why are you resisting?"

He groans softly, starting to roll away but emboldened by his confession she rolls with him, chest to chest her head hovering above his own.

He gulps, frozen beneath the weight of her body.

"Sujin. Please. I don't want to take advantage of you. You're just sad."

"You're right. I am sad. I've been sad for a long time, I thought I would be sad forever but now you're here."

She's doing it. Her heart is pounding inside her brittle ribcage but she forces herself to keep going, to keep talking even if she's terrified of the outcome.

He doesn't say anything, she can barely hear him breathe as if he's scared to spook her. He just watches with huge beguiling eyes.

"I'm not good at this." He nods as if he understands exactly what she means and she's so grateful she could cry, "But you said I was allowed to hold on to you when I was scared. You said you were mine."

His face melts into something soft that makes her chest constrict and she wants to disappear but she knows that there's nowhere she can go that he won't follow, she was stuck with him.

"What are you doing to me?" He echoes her earlier sentiments and she feels her own control snap like elastic, she can't control her parents, can't force them to love her there's no use even trying but this, them. Here with him she has a voice and someone who listens and fuck, she just wants to stop thinking. Wants her thoughts to be nothing but Seojun, Seojun's lips, Seojun's hands, Seojun's scent all of him drowning her.

"Kiss me, please."

He moves closer, almost instinctively only stopping when they are centimeters apart.

Looking conflicted.

"Are you sure? This isn't why I brought you here. We don't have to do anyth--"

"Shut up." She whispers before thrusting her tongue into his mouth, tasting the minty freshness of his toothpaste and eagerly swallowing his little gasp of shock. He's unnervingly still under her but this does nothing to dissuade her, she would kiss him into action. This self sacrificing shit could only last so long if he even felt a fraction of what she felt with they touched. Thoughtlessly she clamors over his motionless body, straddling him and this causes a high pitched squeak and then he's moving, biting down hard on her bottom lip and running a hand up her bare leg.

When she starts to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen she pulls away, reluctantly. He looks as dazed as she feels and she smashes her lips back into his, thankful that he had the foresight to open his mouth because she could collide with his teeth. She honestly has no idea what she's doing, but the noises that he's making encourage her to keep going- to keep suckling and licking.

He starts to gasp and groan, so loud it makes her head spin. "Baby, you're not playing fair." She's light-headed from the persistent nickname, something undeniably sexy about him calling her that as she kisses him senseless, making her own toes curl.

She runs a hand through his hair gently tugging and then she feels his hips snap upward like clockwork and oh. She pulls their lips apart blushing at the wet loud pop that echoes as she breaks the kiss and she doesn't know what to do at first, this is another first for her. She's never been here before, no boy has ever gotten this close to her.

He pants harshly beneath her and when she grinds down with an experimental whine he recoils like he's been burnt, thrusting her off to the side and dragging the duvet above his waist.

It's the first time she's witnessed him looking embarrassed, it's adorable. But she'll never tell him this.

"I'm sorry. I lost control. It was an accident."

"Was that because of me... Did I do that?" It's another asinine question, they'd all received that uncomfortable sex education class and she knew about hormones but it's hard to wrap her head around the idea that she's the one that caused such a visceral reaction.

"Are you just fishing for compliments now?" He retorts, glancing away and she can see movement under the duvet and instead of fear or disgust, she feels hot and a bit curious.

"Can I-

"No."

She squints at him offended, "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"It doesn't matter. I can't handle you saying anything right now. "

"I thought you were a ladies man? Isn't this how you keep the girls coming back?"

She mentally chides herself when that smirk graces his stupid handsome face.

"Are you jealous? I told you that was just a joke. Don't be like that baby." His drawl is filled to the brim with satisfaction and she punches him instinctively, he cries out at the blow far more dramatically than necessary. The big baby.

"Don't call me baby."

The smirk grows, "You didn't seem to mind awhile ago. "

She blazes red, glaring daggers at him but she never gets a chance to rebut his statement.

Then they both jerk and freeze at the sound of footsteps on wooden floors, holding their breath in anticipation.

Softly through the door a voice carries, "Where did that boy go? He's supposed to be sleeping on the couch. "

She's never seen anyone move that quickly but fast as lightning, he's up out of the bed and throwing himself under the mattress as if the woman could burst in at any time.

That might be true and she would die of mortification.

Thankfully the door stays closed and they hear, "He must be in the bathroom," and then the soft patter of retreating footsteps.

That was too close.

She finally releases a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, greedily sucking in air.

Seojun stands up from his spot under the bed looking as scared as she's ever seen him.

She's tempted to capture this image forever.

"I should go."

It looks like it pains him to utter the words and she feels that gap in her chest, she was already so cold without his furnace like warmth.

"Yeah you should." She nods up at him, wrapping her arms around herself in a feeble attempt to preserve heat. When the urge to shiver comes over her she doesn't fight it, allowing her body to shake like a leaf in a cold autumn day.

He's lifting the blanket up and wrapping her back in his arms before she can finish shaking, "I'll go after you fall asleep."

She hides her soft grin on his chest, "Okay. If you insist."

She readjusts him on the bed, using his chest as a pillow and sleep finds her in no time. Her nose is filled with his scent and that's enough to soothe her to a land of dreams.

"Maybe you're the one taking advantage of me." He whispers into her hair, sounding fonder than he should at the accusation. "I shouldn't like it this much."

She pretends not to hear. Words are too much.

#true beauty #junjin #cut scene #pillow talk #more hormones I couldn't resist #I promise I'll get out of the gutters soon #true beauty kdrama

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ca-8 · 3 years

Text

Zuko x Reader Scenario: When You First Meet

She could get in so much trouble.

No disciplined, sane child would ever dare to sneak out at night, especially those with parents who act like the most important people to have ever existed. Parents who always expected their children to be well-behaved, respectful, quiet, and incredibly boring for every second of their life. Parents who don't have a clue of what relaxation meant, even if some sort of high-class professor gave them a month-long lecture about it.

Basically the kinds of parents (Y/n) was so sick of.

The nine-year-old bit her bottom lip as she ever so carefully pulled the door to the beach house shut. Once she was sure no one had woken up and was on their way to give her another five-hundred-hour lecture on her ‘ignoble’ actions (whatever that meant), she snuck down the stairs and dashed toward the direction of the beach.

‘Is it this way? Or was it the other way?’ she questioned. She forgot, and her mind wouldn’t let her remember. Her heart was racing; she had never done something this audacious. If her parents had already woken up and discovered that the pillows under her covers were not her, she’d be better off being alone with a fully grown dragon while covered in the finest jewels.

And yet, at the first sight of the moon just barely hanging over the ocean as its light painted a shimmering white streak over the water, she instantly abandoned the worry. Here, on the quiet, isolated beach, she was free.

(Y/n) took off her shoes, and her toes instantly sunk into the cool sand. Her eyes scanned the beach, from the giant rocks asserting an aura of dominance, the tranquil ocean reflecting the twinkling stars that partnered the moon, and instantly to the lone turtle crab.

A wide smile spread across her face, and she quietly approached her favorite animal. It stood at the end of the ocean line, gazing up at the stars. Something tightened inside of her; it looked so...lonely.

“Hello!” she greeted, perhaps a bit too loudly than she intended, when she bent over it, suddenly covering its view. The turtle crab jumped and shrunk back a little in its shell, though (Y/n) still could see its upside-down face.

“Why're you by yourself? Where're your friends?” she asked, jumping down beside it and making sand fly all over her pajamas. It stared back at her, then ever so slowly emerged from its shell. (Y/n) gasped. “Do you not have any?”

The turtle crab only blinked in response. “That’s terrible!” she exclaimed. "Buuuut then again, I don’t have any either, so… Hey, why don’t the two of us be friends?” She got on her knees, and the turtle crab’s only view was her giant smile. It blinked again, not saying yes, but also not saying no.

“Great!” she cheered, embracing her new friend. Though a turtle crab wasn’t really her original ideal friend, every single kid she met proved themselves to be the most stuck-up, boring, rude people in existence, so maybe this was the better option. “So what’s your name?”

She immediately felt stupid when it didn’t, or, rather couldn’t, respond. “Ehehe, right, uh, you can’t talk,” (Y/n) realized. “But don’t worry, I can give you a name! What abooouuuttt….” The young girl scanned the animal for a quick moment before saying, “Misterrr...Snapper?”

It stared right at her, the moonlight reflecting off of its black eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She got up and bowed respectfully to the small creature, just like how her mother taught her whenever they approached someone important. “Nice to m-I mean, my name is (Y/n) (L/n), and I’m delighted to meet you, Mr. Snapper.”

She glanced at the turtle crab again and let out a soft laugh, then carefully picked it up and put it on her head. Her stomach flipped, and she couldn’t help but envision how loud her mother would be when she’d tell her to get it off her head. But, for now, she put the thought aside and focused on being glad it didn’t panic and run off.

“You’re weird,” she giggled, “I like you, Mr. Snapper. Now, what should we play tonight?”

The night always seemed to last forever, so (Y/n) and Mr. Snapper could do whatever they wanted without anyone saying otherwise. When the moon would lose the war over the sky with the sun, it could be the second she’d stop running around the entirety of Ember Island.

But doing that seemed pointless. And Mr. Snapper didn’t look like the type to enjoy marathons or running in general anyway.

“I know!” (Y/n) abruptly exclaimed, making Mr. Snapper bounce on her head. She gazed up, expecting to see his curious eyes, but only obtained the sight of the twinkling stars. “What do you think about being the Dark Water Spirit?”

“He...He’s gone,” (Y/n) whispered in the deepest voice she could make, staring dreamily at the ocean line where the moon had almost touched the water. She glanced back at her princess, Mr. Snapper, who stood silently with the white shell on his head. She didn’t know why she expected him to say his lines in a high-pitched, princess-y voice.

“Yes, this glorious land is finally free from the Dark Water Spirit,” the young noble said, moving Mr. Snapper in a way that made him appear as if he were talking in the high voice she was doing for him. “And now, we can be together, Noren.”

(Y/n)/Noren picked him up and stared into her mortal girlfriend’s eyes as huskily as she could (she also tried not to burst out laughing when she thought about it). “I never thought I’d fall in love with a mortal, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you, Yua.”

Mr. Snapper/Yua blinked, the moonlight reflecting off of his/her eyes. The shell began to fall off his/her head and (Y/n)/Noren fixed it quickly. “Does that mean you’re going to stay mortal? I can’t exactly marry a dragon, you know,” Mr. Snapper/Yua “said”.

“Hm, let’s just say you’ll be seeing the best of both worlds. Now kiss me, Empress!” Yua and Noren gazed into each other’s eyes for a blissful eternity, and they slowly leaned into the moment of affinity. Their lips were close, even though Yua seemed to be pulling away for some reason, and then-

“Um, what are you doing?”

(Y/n)’s soul was yanked out of Noren’s body and forcefully transported back onto Ember Island. Inches away from her face was no longer Empress Yua, but Mr. Snapper without his crown. And standing a few feet away from them was none other than Prince Zuko.

The Prince of the Fire Nation was here. He was standing right there. Staring at the daughter of a lowly noble as she was about to kiss a turtle crab.

Had the air only turned unbearably hot and heavy to her or did something set the moon on fire?

“Nothing,” she answered immediately in Noren’s voice. (Y/n) cleared her throat, mumbled an “I mean”, quickly held Mr. Snapper by her side, then put on the most innocent smile she could muster. “Nooothing,” she said in a voice much higher than it was supposed to be.

The Prince stared at her like she was standing on water and speaking three different languages all at once. “O...kay…” he said slowly.

'Who taught you to talk in such an absurd way to the Prince?' her mother's voice suddenly echoed within her mind. 'Fix your posture and throw away that ridiculous smile. And please, dear, speak NORMALLY.'

“S-SO!” she yelled, making him jump and instantly breaking every one of mind mother's rules. “What’re you doing here? On this beach? That my, uh, family bought? I think? Cause you, uh, have your own beach, cause you’re a prince, a-and...um…” Her smile widened despite her infinitely growing urge to bury herself as deep into the ground as possible and hide there forever.

“This is actually my family’s beach,” he said with eyes knowing this was the dumbest girl on the planet. “You’re the one not supposed to be here.”

'Once again, you're acting like an embarrassment to our family,' mind mother muttered.

Everything inside her twisted and tightened and told her to run. Though there were tsunamis of embarrassment hitting her relentlessly, there were also tiny ripples of realization. “Huh, so that’s what that sign meant when it said ‘Prince Ozai’s Beach’,” (Y/n) commented.

The Prince winced. “What? Are you-?”

Her eyes widened as they caught the animal he held in his arms. “IS THAT A TURTLE CRAB?” she shouted, then ran up to the boy and bent down to get a better look at the other turtle crab. Prince Zuko jumped back and hissed at her to be quiet, and her instincts told her to bring back the courtesy for him she had just thrown out the window. However, she only inched closer because LOOK AT THAT ADORABLE LITTLE FACE HOW DID SHE NOT NOTICE IT EARLIER?

"Awww, so cuuuute!" She reached out to pet it, but it sank back in its shell. Mind mother sighed, creating a tiny hint of guilt inside her.

"H-Hey!"

(Y/n) looked up at the nine-year-old Prince, glancing back at the turtle crab every few seconds. "Keep your voice down or else you'll wake up the whole island!" Prince Zuko whisper-shouted.

She stood up, cocking her head, then caught a glimpse of the turtle crab again. "What're you doing with it anyway?"

"Um…" He glanced down at the turtle crab. "N-None of your business!" he insisted hurriedly with a hint of pink on his face.

She squinted her eyes at him, and the stern look in his onyx pupils faded away to the same confusion from earlier, then discomfort when more quiet seconds had passed. "You're...here because Miss Green broke into your room but you couldn't keep her there so you brought her back to shore because you wanted to make sure she made it back home safely!" (Y/n) took in a large breath, filling her almost-empty lungs.

The Prince stared back at her with widened, bewildered eyes. "...Who?" he said.

"Your turtle crab's name! I named it that because it reminds me of my first teacher, Mrs. Red, but since it has a green shell, well, you know. Also, totally off-topic, but have you noticed that red and green go so well together? I've been getting into sewing lately, and I was thinking that Ms. Green and Mr. Snapper, that's my turtle crab's name, by the way, could have red and green sweaters! Wouldn't that be adorable?"

He said nothing. He didn't exactly look angry, but not really pleased too.

Her smile dropped, then she giggled nervously. "Sorry, I'll stop talking. A-And you don't have to call it that if you don't want to! Or name it at all! I-I was just-"

The Prince went against his fear of being caught as he let out the loudest laugh (Y/n) ever heard.

Her entire body felt like it had been engulfed by every firebender's element. Her family might as well have formed a crowd around them with their disapproving gaze. 'Maybe Mr. Snapper can help me start a new life under my bed,' she thought as she gazed at her feet.

"You're weird," the Prince suddenly said, chuckling.

(Y/n) snapped her gaze up at him and saw his weirdly relieved smile. "Oh, thanks!" she said, feeling her own smile curl upon her lips. She wasn't one hundred percent sure if he really meant that as a compliment, but his face didn't hold any signs of mockery.

Her stomach did a backflip. Was the Prince, one of the most important people ever, being...kind of nice to her?

Prince Zuko laughed again, then after a quick moment, his face went back to being serious. "Um, please don't tell anyone I'm doing this, okay?" he said.

(Y/n) beamed and nodded. She stood in silence for once while Prince Zuko sighed, walked over to the edge of the water, then placed the turtle crab on the rolling water.

Mr. Snapper wiggled out of her arms and crawled over to Ms. Green. Zuko stepped back until he was next to (Y/n), and the two animals stood together facing the moon with their claws just barely touching.

"Ah, that's so adorable!" (Y/n) squealed. "It's like Yua and Noren!"

Zuko turned and raised an eyebrow at her. "You know about Love Amongst The Dragons?"

The girl gasped dramatically, swiftly putting her gaze on him. "Know it? I'll have you know that I've memorized every single line of that play!" she said, holding her head high with pride. "I can perform every character at any time! In fact, I was doing just that before you interrupted my final act."

'You do realize you're still talking to someone much more important than you, right dear?' mind mother whispered. (Y/n)'s grin was wiped off her face along with most of her pretension.

Surprisingly, he didn't look offended. "That's my favorite play, too," he said with a hint of enjoyment on his face. "Was that why you were about to make out with your turtle crab?"

She blushed furiously and pouted, averting her eyes. "M-Maybe…and his name's Mr. Snapper..."

Prince Zuko chuckled again and after a moment of weirdly comfortable silence, a frown appeared on his face. "Hey, I need to head back. And you should go in case the guards kick you out."

"...Th-There are guards here?" (Y/n) whispered. She ran over and fiercely hugged Mr. Snapper, then went back over to him, her voice slightly increased. "Why didn't you say so?!"

He smiled the most carefree grin in the world. "I thought you knew, since you're on my dad's beach."

"Well, it was nice meeting you Prince Zuko, but now I need to figure out how to escape before my parents have to get me out of prison." She quickly bowed, her heart fluttering at the sound of the Fire Lord's grandson enjoying her joke (hopefully it stayed like that).

"Wait!" he suddenly called.

She was beginning to run back to the beach house when he did. (Y/n) turned around and said, "Yes?"

"Um," he started, hesitating. The young girl cocked her head; someone like him shouldn't be nervous about talking to someone like her. If anything, she should still be the one hesitating and worrying about what to say. "What's your name?" he finally asked.

She flashed a grin as the moon began to lower into the light pink sky. "(Y/n), Your Majesty." Before he could respond, she ran off the beach as fast as she could, hoping to see her parents still asleep within the beach house.

#atla #x reader #kinda cringe #cartoons #nickelodeon #avatar zuko #fanfiction #lol idk

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eldritchqueerture · 3 years

Text

Point of View - Original Statement Fic

Point of View (5004 words) by LadyNikita Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Statement Giver(s) (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), this was intended as the eye but evolved into the vast as well, happens, cosmic horror, attempt at Eldritch Madness, unreality, Discussions of pointlessness and meaninglessness, Canon-Typical The Vast Content (The Magnus Archives), from the eps about space, Mentions of Death, Compulsion, discussions of free will (kind of), Dissociation, Panic, Mentions of addiction, Leitner Book (The Magnus Archives), except it was not possessed by Leitner, Pretty Colours <3, Neurodivergent Protagonist, Queer Protagonist, because I can project a bit as a treat, Can Be Read Without Prior Knowledge of the Podcast (I think)

Summary: "Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?" --- Statement of Lyria Ellison regarding a different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

Notes: Hiiiiii <3 I've been reading Lovecraft recently and as much as I hate the dude, The Colour Out of Space gave me so much inspiration that I immediately sat down and produced this in one sitting. I've been meaning to play with the concept of eldritch madness for a while; something about this trope is really appealing to me and I'm really enjoying my attempts at shaping it with words. Lyria is a preexisting OC of mine, I will give some background on her in the end notes because I love her very much. This is a form of practice for me; I'm playing with horror themes and I'd like to get acquainted with them to better incorporate them into my overall writing. Therefore I will accept constructive criticism if anyone wants to give it, but only in the form of DMs, either on Tumblr (your-queer-vampire-dm) or on Discord, if we know each other through a server. All of the warnings I think should be mentioned are in the tags, but if you think something should be added then please tell me!

Date: May 10th , 2018

Name: Lyria Ellison

Subject of experience: A different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

—

How do you start telling a story that changed your heart, your mind, and your soul so profoundly that you can barely still function in a society? How do you say all that without sounding borderline insane? Nobody knows what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. I know they would all say I’ve hallucinated it all and should seek treatment. But I know it won’t help. I know… I know so much now. Too much and not enough. Never enough. I know what happened was real . I don’t have proof so I’m guessing you won’t believe me either, but I need to tell someone about it. So I might as well tell you.

My name is Lyria Ellison and I’m a neuropsychology major. Ex-major, I should say. I dropped out after… Yeah. I dropped out; there’s not much point in continuing studying things about the feeble, insignificant human brain. Utterly pointless venture.

Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?

Just a year ago, I was convinced I was going to finish my degree. I was so passionate about it too, eager to learn more and more, to research and seek knowledge. Curious and fascinated by the world around us. What a foolish thing it was to give into that drive. My mind was open to the supernatural, although I always approached it scientifically; I never said the supernatural existed, but I also never said it didn’t. It was plausible; all in all, every scientist must accept that there is still a vast amount of knowledge we don’t have about the world.

The ignorance was a blessing. But I shall not get ahead of myself.

It started around December last year; my dad had died, and my girlfriend, Shawala, and I were clearing out his house. There wasn’t really anyone else to do it; my mother had passed a couple years prior, I had no siblings, and extended family was out of the picture as well; and my dad had gathered a lot of things in his adventurous life; he was a traveller, and he loved the world, loved learning about it, just like me. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with it all; my dad meant a lot to me back then, and Shawala proved an excellent support at that first shock. She promised to do some first view assessments of the ground floor, while I went to scope out how things looked in the attic.

It’s always either basements or attics, isn’t it? I used to read horror, Lovecraftian was my favourite – how ironic, isn’t it? How stupid . How utterly ignorant. The hubris of the human race at its finest.

Anyways, the attic was half-lit from the small windows in the roof, and dust was swirling in the faint light of the afternoon sun. It was cold here, but I didn’t pay much mind; the house was old, and it wasn’t surprising that there was draft. To say the space was cluttered would be an understatement; I could barely walk around the numerous boxes, old furniture, crates, and overflowing bookshelves; all of which made something in my chest curl tight, bringing tears to my eyes. I steered my steps towards the nearest bookshelf; I’ve always been a bookworm, fascinated by nearly any tome I came across; I’ve been reading popular science books since I was eight. So naturally, I was drawn to the books, taking huge steps above the cardboard boxes and careful not to hit anything else.

The books were old, of course, and dusty. Some of them had loose pages, and I treated them very gently, almost reverently. I have a little bit of a bookbinder streak, and I decided I would take them home and try to put them back together. As I rifled through them, I saw they pertained to a vast variety of subjects, from poetry, drama, and history, to science, metaphysics, and maths. The deeper I looked into this stunning collection, the more reverence rose in my heart; at my fingertips I had the oldest and the biggest accumulation of knowledge I had ever seen. I saw some books dated back even two hundred years ago.

At that point Shawala called me to check if I was alright. I put the book I had in my hands back and my knuckles brushed against the black leather cover of the next one on the shelf. I felt pleasant tingling in my palm at the touch and my heart leaped at the prospect; I didn’t know why – the book seemed ordinary enough on the shelf and there was no title on its spine.

I sometimes wonder if I could have just left it there and gone downstairs; chosen to come back later and then maybe, it wouldn’t have enticed me as it did. If, by that point, I had had any choice left on the matter.

Alas, intrigued by the book, I placed my palm on the spine and took it out. The leather was soft and smooth, probably sheep, with familiar subtle grains all over the texture. I remember it striked me as odd that it was warmer than the rest of the books in the drafty attic, but I shrugged it off. The front cover had a title, small but visible in the centre, etched in gold – Punctum Visus .

I, by all means, cannot read or speak Latin, but I figured it was something to do with vision. I opened the book, an unknown anticipation buzzing in my stomach. The pages were worn and old, their texture was slightly rough but pleasant under my fingertips; as I opened the front page, I saw the title again, this time in thick but still elegant, black letters, and the smell came up to my nostrils.

I tried to describe it in my head countless times after. I always loved the smell of old books, and I knew it very well, so it came to me as a surprise to realize it wasn’t the only smell I could feel from the book. It was… cold, somehow, distant but prickling at my nose, a little bit the way peppermint tastes. It reminded me of the night sky and distant stars somehow. The smell awakened an unease within me, as I couldn’t quite place what it was and why it seemed so weird , but it wasn’t by any means unpleasant. It was… enticing. Like a promise of a mystery.

I breathed it in again through my nose, closing my eyes, and for a moment I lost all feeling in my body. I was untethered and immaterial, somewhere in deep darkness that seemed to envelop me whole. It felt cold on my mind, stretching it thoughtlessly in the empty vastness, and I saw distant flickering lights of stars. Before I could form a coherent thought, I was back in myself, panting and shaking, staring at the front page of the Punctum Visus . I looked around with shaky breaths; the attic looked the same, and Shawala’s steps on the stairs reached my ears, with her voice calling my name. A shiver passed down my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom on my skin; was it the draft, the dread, or the excitement I couldn’t tell.

I knew I had to read this book, no matter what it took for me to do so.

I took it home, almost forgetting about the rest of the books upstairs. It had spent the next month laying in my room, as I dealt with the formalities and moving the rest of things that weren’t sold from the house either to my place or to charity. After the day we left the house for the last time, I collapsed in my bed, exhausted, but instead of closing, my eyes fell on the book unassumingly waiting on my nightstand.

A surge of excitement passed through me, waking me right up. I sat up and reached for the book. It was still warm; I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but warm it was. I think it made me subconsciously assign it more… being? Like, even before I knew anything, I somehow subconsciously accepted that it was more than just an object; that it was, in a sense, alive on its own. I brushed my fingers on the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the etching of the letters. In the meantime during this month I had checked the meaning of the title – Point of Sight; a position from which a thing is or is supposed to be viewed. It makes so much sense now.

But then I didn’t know what dangers it held; or I didn’t want to think about them. I do remember feeling anxious, my hands trembling every time I opened the cover, but it was so mingled with exhilaration of the certainty I was discovering something important that I must have disregarded it. As I turned the pages, I wasn’t surprised to find the text in Latin; though I still felt a pang of frustration that it meant I couldn’t read it for now. I rifled through the pages, looking curiously at the letters that formed words yet unattainable to me. There was a hunger inside of me; a hunger to Know. As I turned the pages past various symbols, illustrations of the constellations, and of Earth, I determined it must be some sort of a metaphysical work. The point of view on the world around us.

Normally I just skim through works like this and leave them. While they are an interesting read sometimes, they’re not my favourite genre and, looking objectively, putting in the effort of learning a whole language just for the sake of reading a treatise on the meaning of cosmos by an unknown author seems strange at best. But somehow it seemed obvious to me that I had to read it. It called to me, sang into a part of my being that begged to be filled, promising knowledge that would finally leave me satisfied. I know now that it’s impossible. Once you’ve tasted the hunger for knowing, you will never find satisfaction; it’s like an addiction. You just crave more and more, and the knowledge never ends. After a certain point you know too much and when it all connects, when it starts to make sense… you slip. I didn’t know that, even though maybe I should have. I didn’t know what those things I was feeling meant then and I didn’t stop to question them; I gave into it as soon as it touched me. I was stupid.

What followed were a busy couple of months. Every waking moment that wasn’t spent keeping up the pretence of being interested in my major (back then I only thought it a brief hyperfixation, of course, and wouldn’t have called it a pretence at all), I was learning Latin online or staring into the incomprehensible words on the pages. This period of my life is a blur; I remember my friends checking up on me if I was alright, since I wasn’t particularly social anymore. Shawala got progressively more worried, but it fully escaped my mind to care. I know that staring thoughtlessly at the book took up more and more of my time; once, I remember, I returned from my classes at three PM and took the book out; when I came back to myself it was well past midnight. That’s when I started to feel truly uneasy about it. It was the second half of April; I looked back on what I’ve been doing these past months and this cold dread started creeping up to my throat. I realized I didn’t know why I wanted to read the book so much and I remembered the “vision” or the hallucination I had that first time in my dad’s attic. I had set it aside completely as unimportant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. I started shaking and theorizing in my head about the book being able to influence my mind somehow, to control it. Had my actions not been my own? How much of it was my own will and how much was the book? Was it even possible for it to influence me like that; could it be that it was supernatural in some way?

The house became cold, unnaturally so. It was dark and all the windows were closed, but a chill draft managed to find its way into the corridor I was in anyway. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees, trembling in panic. I was all alone in the flat, everyone I knew was surely already asleep in their homes, and I was small and weak in the face of something that maybe could have controlled my mind. I suddenly became aware of the leatherbound book in my hand, and I threw it along the corridor at the front door with a whimper, as far away from me as possible. The book thumped against the door, then the floor, and opened on a random page.

I’ve read enough horrors. I knew that the page would be significant, and that knowledge made me sob and hug my knees tighter. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt like I’d just woken up from a months-long dream… and perhaps I was right. The recent past felt alien.

I felt tears sting my eyes and that’s when the smell reached me. Again that mixture of old paper and peppermint cold, distantly sweet but freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in ragged and shallow, and tears streamed down my face as I stared at the open book that was calling me in an inaudible whisper. The logical side of my mind was trying desperately to make sense of it, to assign the dissociative feeling to my father’s death and yeah, it was plausible, but somehow it just didn’t feel right. The whispers sounded again, swirling around my head, the golden sound almost touching the back of my neck, making me wince. It was enticing and promising, but this time, I felt terror instead of excitement. Disregarding how my mind was trying to rationalize the situation, I knew the book was cursed somehow. I knew that I was its victim. And I knew that I would not be strong enough to resist it.

I don’t know how much time I sat there, trembling, and sobbing into my knees, before I calmed down from the panic and decided I had to do something. I had to find out what this book was and how it found itself into my dad’s library. I couldn’t remember seeing anything in his diaries that would mention it at all, but then again, I didn’t read them all cover to cover. On wobbly legs I carefully made my way back to my room and searched the Internet until the sun started peeking out of the window; I found nothing about any book titled Punctum Visus . I tried all the libraries that I’d known of, that had their assortment online, all the research databases; nothing.

So, at the crack of dawn, with a fast-beating heart, I stood in the door of my room, staring out into the corridor, where the book still lay by the front door, unmoving. The golden strings of a wordless melody made it to my ears; it promised an explanation; that this time if I looked close enough, I would find what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

Where else could I find the answers if not in the book itself?

I could feel its cold fingers slowly wrap around my mind, steering me to come closer. It called me with a hypnotising voice that awakened all the red signals in my brain, telling me to run and hide, but I didn’t. The voice meant danger, but I knew it also meant knowledge.

Dangerous knowledge. The pull dragged me through the corridor step by step; I hadn’t been fighting it as strongly as I could have had and I was about to start, since I was getting closer to the book, but suddenly I felt the chill of the influence let go, hovering close but out of reach. It was still compelling me to come, to Look, but I could move my own limbs. I had a choice to make.

Knowledge of danger. Did I believe my own warning thoughts that I would regret looking into the book? Did I take my own logical, rational side seriously? Was I ever good at resisting my own impulses?

I’ve never been addicted to anything, but then again, I never really had the opportunity, as it were; my friends were more of a no-alcohol types and I really ever smoked cigarettes once. I’ve never seen drugs in real life. So who’s to say if I’m not an addictive personality? And this, this was addictive. The thrill of mystery, the exhilarating process of learning, the anticipation of the answers.

Was it ever really my choice?

No supernatural force guided my steps that night; no cold fingers made me kneel next to the book and carefully cradle it in my arms, looking at the page with a shaky breath and tears in my eyes, as if I was coming back home like the prodigal son. But I’m sure it was by some paranormal means that this time I could understand the text on the pages.

I honestly don’t remember what it said. As I read the unfamiliar words, the meaning presented itself in my mind, not entirely unlike that first “vision” I had in the attic; as soon as I started reading I knew that I had made the choice and there was no turning back. That cold draft enveloped me, sat on my skin, and started to bite; I felt that smell again, stronger than ever before, something intangible but unmistakably inhuman . It was then that I realized that’s what had felt wrong to me about the smell since the beginning. It was inferior and alien. My hands started shaking as my eyes, glued to the text, moved now on their own down the page, drinking the words in. I was terrified out of my mind, but the pleasant tingling along my nerves was back, the anticipation of the promised understanding.

My mind was drowned with the tide of knowledge. This was just a prologue; a true discovery would require preparation, but I was almost ready. The voice said I was chosen, that I was a perfect candidate to bring It what It needs and that I would be rewarded. I cried tears of amazement and horror at the sheer scope of the voice – it seemed to encompass the entire world. I couldn’t comprehend it, but I didn’t know then that it was a blessing. I wanted to know, I craved to know what It was and how I could be of use to something so powerful, so huge. Divine. That was a word that crossed my mind, as much as I don’t like that. I don’t like many things, but I can’t change any of them.

The voice said I’m on the right path. I would Know and Understand. First, I needed to do something. As It told me what that was, doubt started to creep up to my mind. What was I doing? What was happening? How could this be real?

I came to on the floor by my front door, the cursed book in hand, with a tear-stained face and a bloody nose.

I knew what I had to do to get ready and, as I calmed down and went over everything in my head, I was surprised by how trivial it was. Honestly, by this point I was kind of afraid It would tell me to hurt someone, so I was glad this was just about reading a bunch of words in a specific location at a specific time. I was aware of the fact that this was most probably a ritual, and I was quite apprehensive. I kept arguing with myself in my head, over and over whether I should follow through, but deep down I knew that I would, no matter what I told myself. This part, I think, scared me the most; how compelling the promise of knowledge was, how reverently I’d found myself thinking of the book and its owner (which I assumed was the voice), how fanatical some of my thoughts sounded. I’ve never been religious, never really felt idealistic either. I was always focused on facts, on the here and now. Can knowledge be an ideal? Can you be a fanatic of Seeing and Knowing?

How much had I changed since I’d found Punctum Visus in that old attic.

I found a good, quiet spot, on the north-west side of the New Forest National Park near Southampton. I told no one about this, deeming it unimportant. I would come back after my big discovery, I would explain everything. I laugh at myself now; at my naivety.

The night of April 28 th was clear, and the starry sky looked back at me as I parked my car on the road in the forest and locked it. I tied a piece of a long red string to the wheel, not to lose my way in the forest, and started to walk forward. I held the book close to my chest, as if it could protect me from the dark, eerie outlines of the trees, swaying gently on the wind and whatever the darkness around me held. I didn’t light the torch; the moon was nearly full, bathing everything in its gentle light, and besides, for some reason it seemed that the crude yellow light would somehow break the sanctity of what I was about to do. I could see the ground in front of me and managed to lose sight of my car and everything else besides trees pretty fast.

I stopped when I found a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on me like a big eye; I didn’t know why this comparison seemed the most fitting, but it did. I took a deep breath, feeling a chill plant little dots all over my skin, making my hairs stand on end. The wind died down and the trees froze, as if in anticipation. I felt something watching me closely; I was not alone here anymore.

The realization made my breath catch in my throat and the last streaks of sanity broke through my thick skull. Run! Drop the book and run! I didn’t. My hands trembled, my muscles tensed, and I stood there, frozen with fear as something stared at me, seemingly for eternity. Something bigger than me, bigger than anything I have ever seen was watching me, waiting. My eyes dropped to the book in my arms. The black leather was warm, as always, but this time I felt a pulsating sensation from it. A heartbeat.

I screamed. The book landed discarded on the ground, and I stumbled backwards and tripped, landing in the grass as well. It was cold and wet, and it glistened with something in the faint moonlight. At first I took it for water, but upon closer inspection I saw it was the grass itself that glittered – a shy rainbow, glowing iridescently in an impossible way. I froze, stunned, for I have never seen such colours before. It seemed utterly alien, something unfitting for the human eye to see; simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

As I looked around, I noticed that everything alive in the forest – the trees, the grass, the bushes, the plants – had taken on that iridescent mixture of faint light that prickled my eyes and sent a shiver of terror down my spine. It was beautiful, utterly gorgeous in a way that nothing a human eye can perceive could be. It was horrifying in how different, alien, and other it was. My senses could tell this is not of the Earth; not of this reality, not of this world; everything in me that still had common sense tried to recoil from the inferiority of this magnificence and the danger it brought, but I had abandoned common sense a while back. Maybe even when I touched the book for the first time. I stared then, breathless and trembling, at this scenery as if from a fairy tale and decided to lock away my rational thoughts. I wanted to See, to Know; I wanted to experience and if this was the death of me then hell, it was a pretty good way to go. To behold such a sight, I thought, was a reward in and of itself.

Of course, I had no idea what any of it meant. I slowly rose to my knees and patted the ground down until I felt the book. It still pulsated with this heartbeat and the letters etched in the leather glowed with golden light. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t know whether I was shivering from fear or the cold. I opened the book on the first page.

What I saw was not what I had expected. I remembered that the first page, after the titular one, was the beginning of the introduction, that much I had understood, but now it was a big picture in black and white; a night sky, with an almost full moon and strewn with stars. It was a shot from the ground and treetops could be seen at the edges of the picture. As the book swayed in my hands, the stars glittered, and the perspective shifted ever so slightly, as if it was in 3D. Stricken by a surge of dread and cold certainty, I looked up. My suspicion was right – the picture in the book depicted the exact image that was now above me. I gasped quietly and looked down at the book—

And this is where things started to really go horribly, horribly wrong.

The book was gone. What’s more, the ground was gone too and suddenly everything was not where it should have been. I blinked but it did nothing to ease the dizziness; and when I composed myself enough to register what I was seeing I froze, the most intense horror I have ever experienced crushing my body from all sides and inside out.

I realized that I was Seeing. I was finally Seeing, and I Understood it all.

I don’t know how to convey in words what I saw. I don’t believe it’s possible; humans were never made to see and understand such things. I should have never touched the book, I should have never asked for knowledge. All my life I believed that knowledge was the point; it was a tool, and it was power. I don’t know what I think anymore. I think some knowledge should always be hidden because we were not made to know everything. We can’t , it’s physically impossible for us to comprehend.

For one moment in my life. For one moment I became something else, and I saw the world in the way It sees the world. For one moment I shared a mind with an eldritch being, a thing that is Fear itself, and I saw the Earth through Its Eye. I can’t… I can’t tell you just how horrible it is. How… How meaningless; we’re all intertwined things, guided by strings of web that lead us through life, and we’re all connected in this maze of fear . We’re not individuals; we’re not special. We don’t have souls and none of our experiences matter. We’re just fear. These… These entities are a part of all of us. They’re our fear and they live inside of us, inside of every living creature that can feel fear. Can you comprehend that? How can you be sure you are yourself when there’s a cosmic entity, a power as old as life itself, living you ? And no one has any idea. Nobody knows and if I tell someone they’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. But deep down I know what I saw. I know it was real. And I’m terrified. I’m terrified because I know that this Being of eyes that I became a part of watches everything I do. I feel Its presence here very strongly, and I guess it makes sense. It will never leave me. It’s a part of me, just like the rest of them; just like they’re all a part of every one of you, yet you have no idea. But I know. And I know I’m all alone with that knowledge, the knowledge that I can’t comprehend, but I know I could in that one moment. It’s a very lonely place to be and I’m scared.

I’m scared as I have never been before; this fear doesn’t leave me anymore. Every second of every day I’m aware I’m watched by something as great as cosmos. I’m aware I shared my mind with that being and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know what to do now, but I don’t expect any advice from you. I’m leaving the book with you, as proof. Its heart doesn’t beat anymore, and I’ve seen what I was supposed to.

Don’t read it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!! For people interested in a little bit of background: Lyria is a D&D character I have created that still awaits her chance to play in a campaign. She's an arcane scholar that has a dark little secret of actually being a warlock of a being she doesn't know a lot about. She's in love with knowledge and she seeks to learn about her powers as well as the world around her. I'm currently DMing a Ravenloft campaign and I just couldn't miss the fact how much potential for a corruption arc she has. Then I listened to TMA and I was like, she would definitely become the Avatar of the Beholding.

#i discovered you can copy tags straight from ao3 #ive been using that site for how many. 5 years now #:|#anyways #tma #the magnus archives #tma original statement #cosmic horror #niki.writes #lyria elerieth #goes in my oc tag because thats technically an au #im really happy with this one guys!

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thesunshinebunny · 3 years

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Ok, imagine this. Riddle dating MC / Yuu for months, they go on little dates, some nights they sleep together, they've... you know what, and there comes a time when Riddle's mom wants to meet MC. Anyone would be afraid of the mere idea of meeting her, but MC is not a "normal person". They usually speaks their mind, no matter how cruel or naive it may sound, so they'rent afraid of Riddle's mother (1/2)

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, let me tell you something, if I were going to meet that woman, I tell her IN.THE.MUTHERF*CKING.FACE what I think about her, and that I’ll going to protect Riddle with all my heart, body and soul.

Anyways……I’m being a little stressed out the last few days, and I’d a very nasty argument with my mother, so I would really appreciatte if you like this post.

*goes to a corner to cry*

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The first rays of the morning shot through Riddle's bedroom window, waking him almost instantly. His eyelids opened little by little, getting used to the sudden light that filled his room. He looked at the clock on his counter, which read half past six. There was still time to stay in bed. Besides, he was in good company and didn’t intend to remove the heat from your body so early in the morning.

Memories of the night before invaded his mind, placing a sweet and sincere smile on his lips. He hug you from behind, sticking you to his chest, and slightly hiding his head over your hair, breathing in the scent of your perfume. The scene was relaxing and Riddle wanted to stay like this all day.

But a knock on the door took him out of his reverie. He cursed under his breath, seriously considering using his unique magic and cutting off the head of whoever had deigned to disturb his tranquility. He half donned his school uniform and opened the door with an angry face, about to shout his most famous phrase, and found himself face to face with a half-asleep Trey, letter in hand.

"I'm sorry to wake you up Riddle, but this letter came for you"

He extended the letter to him, apologized again, and left to his room. Riddle closed the door slowly, careful not to wake you, and inspected the letter. He recognized the characteristic countenance of his mother. He read it reluctantly, but his eyes stopped on a sentence nearing the end.

“In your last letter you told me that you were dating someone. I want to meet them. I want you to come with your so-called partner next weekend for tea time. Don't even think about being late"

Riddle sat down on the end of the bed carefully, having an internal battle with himself. He wasn't going to be able to deny a request of that magnitude to his mother, but he knew that if she knew you ... things weren't going to turn out very well.

"I know that way of sitting, you are worried about something"

The redhead was so absorbed that he didn't notice your awakening. Your figure was half lying on the bed, with your head hanging on one side, passing your hands over your eyes as you tried to wake up fully. The sheets covered much of your skin, but not enough, exposing your bare chest. What was once concern that invaded Riddle's mind, was now reliving, again, how he made love to you last night.

"Eyes up, my rose cake"

"I'm sorry"

Riddle's cheeks turned his trademark red, but this time from embarrassment. He took a deep breath and let out a slow, tired sigh. He’s awake about ten minutes long and it seemed that he had scolded all of his residents.

"My mother sent me a letter and she’s asking me to come together for the weekend so that she can meet you"

“Is that what you're worried about? Are you afraid that she won’t approve our relationship?"

Let's be honest, inside you were screwed up to your feet. You were going to meet Riddle's mother for the first time, a completely controlling woman, a woman who wasn't going to reason so easily. It was going to be daring to talk to her, but not an impossible mission.

"I know my mother is a difficult woman to reason with, what I'm afraid of is ..."

"That I say something out of place or make her angry and we end up shitting each other like we were at a Batlle Royal?"

It wasn't necessary for Riddle to open his mouth, in his gaze you could already find the answer to your question. You spread your arms, inviting him to snuggle with you, which he gladly accepted, burying his face against your chest.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine, you know I know how to take care of myself, and if necessary I will protect you with my life"

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The weekend arrived. Riddle and you were walking down one of the many cobbled streets of the Rose Kingdom, in the distance you could make out a large and beautiful house, decorated by large vines of red and white roses. Needless to say, this was Riddle's house.

"If you need more time to put your ideas in order, we can take a walk"

You could see out of the corner of your eye as Riddle stared at the silhouette of his house on the horizon. His grip grew stronger with each step you took and you could feel the vein in his temple twitch from stress.

"We would be late"

"So? Your mental health is more important than being late for a meeting that we both know is giving you a lot of stress”

You stopped in your tracks and pulled Riddle towards you, capturing his face in your hands. You gave him a sweet smile, full of compassion and empathy; You knew this wasn’t going to be easy, not for you or for Riddle, and that he was going to need all the help in the world.

"I need you to calm down, if you cannot appear in front of your mother it’s completely valid and she must understand it at some point"

Riddle didn't say anything, he just took your hand over his and kept walking, but not before returning the smile.

When they finally reached the portal of his house, you noticed how his hand shook when he wanted to ring the bell. You placed your hand on his and both were present with the noise of the doorbell. The seconds of waiting became eternal, both had to seek comfort in the other, admiring the outfit you both were wearing and telling each other that you were very handsome and that neither was breaking the dress codes of the house. When you heard the footsteps behind the door approach, both stopped in their tracks what you were doing.

"Welcome home Riddle, on time as always"

Mrs. Rosehearts prevailed the moment she opened the door of her home. If it wasn’t for your countenance and clear conscience, you might even have become a little scared. Just a little.

"You must be (Y/N)"

"Hi, I'm (Y/N) (S/N), nice to meet you Mrs. Rosehearts" You extended your hand politely, naively hoping that she would return your greeting. Long and uncomfortable seconds passed, Riddle's mother refused to shake her hand; she just looked at you with contempt. After about 10 endless seconds you removed your hand.

"I think not"

"Come inside, before someone sees the hideous clothes you are wearing" The lady took a step back, surprisingly in order to let them both pass. Weird that she didn’t slammed the door in your face considering the contempt that overflowed from her being.

"Oh, I think we are both very cute, even the colors are the same as the Queen of Hearts"

You walked in holding Riddle's hand with a calm smile, but the same couldn't be said for the redhead. He seemed more restless and very pale, you were afraid that at any moment he would faint from the pressure that his mother was generating. The three of you sat down at the large table in the living room, on which were placed three cups of chamomile-scented tea, and in front of you a piece of strawberry cake.

“I'm going to get straight to the point, why do you think you have the right to go out with my son? Do you have an interesting and powerful unique magic?"

"Oh no ma'am, I have no magic" Without hesitation, you grabbed the fork next to the cake and cut a piece, without looking at the lady who was about to release smoke from her ears.

"Pardon me?"

"You heard well, ma'am, I don't have any spark of magic in my being, and I'm going to a wizarding school ... ironic isn't it?"

You cut another piece of cake, setting a strawberry aside, savoring the fluffy and creamy filling. You poked the strawberry and set the fork in front of Riddle, patiently waiting for him to eat it. You noticed how his eyes fixed on his mother's, restlessness and nervousness still present in them. You didn't need to turn your head, you knew his mother was looking at him disapprovingly, but you didn’t put it away. You placed your other hand over Riddle's, encouraging him to eat the strawberry, and to your surprise and his mother's, he took the fruit into his mouth in one bite.

"I didn't have to tell you not to eat the strawberry and you still disobeyed me, Riddle"

"I don’t want to sound rude, ma'am, but Riddle likes strawberries a lot and if he eats one or a couple it's not going to hurt him." You grabbed another strawberry from the cake and fed it to Riddle, who now didn’t hesitate for a second to bite it.

"Riddle, go to the kitchen and make more tea. Now."

The redhead couldn’t deny the insistent look of his mother, accepting without question the order he gave her. When he got up, he fixed her gaze on yours, moving her lips almost imperceptibly: "behave" to which you replied with "I am"

Next act, Riddle disappeared when crossing the threshold of the living room.

“Since you seem so wise, tell me the following, are your grades exceptional? Since you’re magicless, making you almost useless in this world, at least you dedicate yourself to study "

"Oh no ma'am, my grades are average, and I barely get a 70"

Already the lady was red as a tomato, about to foam from her mouth. It was like seeing a copy of Riddle in a female version.

“Are you telling me that my son is dating someone without magic and completely stupid? I can't believe it, Riddle couldn't choose a more useless perso "

"Considering that I come from another world, and I have instilled its own history, sociology and politics, I would be learning everything again, like a newborn baby"

"From another world?"

You put the fork on the plate, finishing the cake with great happiness and you looked at the woman in front of you, whose face is now pale and with noticeable confusion.

“That's right ma'am, I'm not from Twisted Wonderland, I come from another world. And as I said before, consider me a newborn baby, I have to learn a history and subjects that in my world we don't have. I learn new things every day and I dedicate myself to studying the best I can, I have been at NRC for more than a semester and I am making incredible progress according to the teachers. Therefore, having an average of 70 in a person like me would be more than acceptable, don't you think? "

For a moment your eyes were fixed on the figure of Riddle, who was still making the tea, and you decided to get up from the table and keep him company, leaving his mother drinking what little was left of her tea. Perhaps a moment alone would make her reflect on the revelation you threw her like a bucket of cold water in the middle of winter.

"Do you need help darling?" You appeared behind him, running your hands around his waist, conveying a little peace to him.

"No, it is not necessary" his hands were shaking, it was obvious that he needed help, but his pride would not leave him.

"Riddle ... let me make my flower tea." Your comment distracted him, causing him to almost spill the chamomile water he was preparing.

His gaze conveyed insecurity and fear. He knew you were about to break a rule, and that it was not the best option to anger his mother more than she already was. Without saying a word, you took the cup of chamomile water in your hands and proceeded to look for small dried flowers in the kitchen. Before Riddle knew it, a new tea was ready to be served and the guinea pig was going to be nothing more and nothing less than his mother.

"Sorry for the delay, ma'am, but here's your tea" The woman looked at her infusion with reluctance, on the point of beheading you.

"Queen's Rule n ° 529-"

"One should have a chamomile tea with a sugar cube for tea time on weekends ... I know the rule"

"Even knowing it, you decide to break it, if I had enough power, it would cut off your head"

You sat across from her with a sly smile from ear to ear. You were walking the tightrope, at any moment you would fall or it would be cut, but you wouldn’t leave without fighting a good fight. This meeting was coming to an end.

“I think it would be better for you to drink the tea that I kindly prepared for you before drawing absurd conclusions. After all, it is one of the specialties of my world, I doubt that I will ever have another opportunity to have tea like this"

Your gaze now was the one that penetrated the environment. You didn't take your eyes off hers, forcing her to drink her bloody tea. When her lips touched the teacup, both you and Riddle were crossing your fingers internally.

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After a couple of hours having a normal conversation, it was time to go back to school. Riddle was saying goodbye to his mother and you’re about to walk the streets again when his mother called out to you. You turned your head, expecting a new derogatory comment, but what she said next surprised you.

“I still don't approve this relationship… but I can't deny the fact that you have potential. Don't make me regret giving you a chance"

And with that phrase she slammed the door of his house.

"Ok, thanks ... I guess"

You took Riddle's hand for the last time in the afternoon and both started walking. The queen was finally able to breathe a long breath and release the stress and anguish that he had been accumulating all afternoon.

"Well ... it could have been worse"

"Yes I think so"

You stopped short, pulling Riddle towards you and wrapping your arms around his neck. You settled your forehead on his and gave him a sweet smile which he returned with the same sweetness. His hands settled on your waist and caressed you slowly, generating butterflies on your belly.

"You could have behaved better, my mother was about to behead you"

"If I had behaved better, we wouldn’t have managed to convince your mother to give our relationship a chance." You kissed him on the nose playfully.

"Now let's go back, I have a gift back at school that you will surely like"

His smile turned into a mischievous one, unable to retain the little patience to know his gift.

"Oh yeah? And what is it about if I may know?"

"Mmm ... I got a new corset with white floral details painted red"

His grip on your waist grew stronger, pulling you to his chest and stealing a fleeting but passionate kiss.

"I knew you would like ... now come on, I don't want to make you wait"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader

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