#being against him because of his appearance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonchildstyles · 2 days

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would Élan!Harry ever get jealous with (Y/N)? Seeing as to how they don't make their relationship public (yet!), people would still definitely hit on her, so how would he deal with that?

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"One more?"

Harry's lips grew into a lopsided smile at (Y/N)'s request. It would never lose its shine, would it?

"One more, but I don't want to be the one in trouble for your lipstick this time," he conditioned with a raised brow.

"Okay, fine," (Y/N) answered right away, waving his terms off with a fluttering hand, "Just one more before we have to go inside."

Pressing his lips to her own perfectly painted pair, Harry was determined to keep it light and fleeting, knowing that there were cameras lurking just up ahead. It wouldn't be a good look for either of them to emerge from the back of this SUV with (Y/N)'s lipstick smeared and the remnants on Harry's own mouth.

Of course, his determination hinged on just how well behaved (Y/N) was going to be. Which, as he'd learned through the course of their tabloid facade, wasn't something that happened often. It was her that deepened the kiss with a tip of her head, fitting his bottom lip between her two.

How was he supposed to say no to that?

She knew he'd given in as soon as he felt the faint curl of her lips against his, a smug victory smile.

Though, her victory didn't last much longer than that.

The ever patient—and discreet—man he was, Sully knocked on the partition as a warning that they were quickly approaching the venue of the night's party. It was Harry who had to have the power to pull away first, leaving (Y/N) with a puffed pout and only slightly smudged lipstick. He didn't even want to think about how much of the red was now painted over his own mouth.

"Don’t give me that look," he told her, swiping a thumb over a smudge just under her bottom lip.

His command only garnered him a set of narrowed eyes to go along with her pout. "I don't even want to be here tonight, why can't we go home?"

"Because," he said, canting his head as she did the same, "Y'told Francesca you'd be here tonight, and I know y'wouldn't leave her by herself."

"She'll make friends," she huffed, though Harry knew he'd won her over as soon as she turned away in search of the compact in her purse.

"It's gonna be alright, darling," he told her, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she clicked open her mirrors and touched up her lipstick, "We'll go home early if y'really want."

"I do really want," she petulantly mumbled, cleaning up the slight smudging outside of the line of her mouth. "H, you messed up my lipstick."

That was enough to have him throwing his head back with a laugh.

By the time Sully had pulled up to the entrance of the high-rise the party was taking place at, (Y/N) had primed her appearance and put on her socialite facade. Harry had sat at her side, being her anchor as she centered herself and let the side of her personality that loved cameras and attention take over.

"Ready?" he'd murmured once they pulled up to the entrance of the building.

She chirped out and Mh-hm a small smile on her lips. "Ready to be my bodyguard?"

"If y'can behave," he countered, sliding his arm off of her shoulders once he saw the first flashes of the camera aimed at the SUV.

"We'll see," she smiled just before sliding down the leather seats and pushing the door open.

Harry had no choice but to follow after her, shaking his head just before stepping out into the flashing lights with her. Schooling his features, he slipped on his own facade. Despite what the tabloids wrote and the blurry photos supposedly circulating online, when they stepped in public, Harry was her bodyguard. Especially when it comes to parties like this.

He'd be her lover later, he had to make sure she was safe first.

The entrance wasn't packed with photographers, but there were still enough people for Harry to hover just behind her. He'd learned his lesson well while in Paris that summer—it didn't matter just how few paparazzi were following her, it only took one to push the limits.

She kept her head down when the few waiting outside the event started talking to her, speaking over one another with calls of her name. None of them acted particularly invasive, speaking rudely to her or invading her space, especially seeing as there wasn't anything particularly scandalous circulating about her at the moment. Nonetheless, while (Y/N) politely smiled and kept her space, Harry was the intimidating presence behind her that reminded others just how important it was for them to keep their distance.

Following as her quiet shadow, Harry kept his hands to himself as they were escorted to the penthouse floor for the party. If not for the attendant in the lift, he may have attempted to get one more touch of her skin against his, though he instead settled for a sidelong glance that had her lips tipping into a small smile.

When the doors opened directly to the penthouse space, Harry tipped his head, gesturing for (Y/N) to go first. She thanked the attendant with a quiet thank you before she stepped into the fluttering party.

It was a decidedly more low-key event compared to the many that (Y/N) frequented, most of the attendants having spilled out towards the open air patio. The rest of the space was full of modern, minimalist decor. Walls were made of glass panelling, everything coming in different shades of cream and nude, manicured greenery being placed throughout the space in an attempt to make it look more lived in than it most likely was. Staff traipsed through the space with trays of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of bubbly alcohol.

"Do you see Fran anywhere?" (Y/N) murmured, her fingers joining into a fumbling bundle at her middle.

Continuing his scan over the crowd, Harry stuffed his own hands into his pockets to keep from plucking (Y/N)'s up in an attempt to soothe her. "Not yet. Do y'know if she's here yet?"

"I don't know, she hasn't texted me since before we left." At that, (Y/N) pulled out her phone, most likely pulling up Francesca's shared location. Her expression fell at whatever she saw on her screen. "She hasn't even left her apartment yet."

"That's alright," he told her, keeping his voice low, "She'll be here soon. Do y'want a drink?"

Just as she opened her mouth to give an answer, (Y/N) was interrupted by a voice Harry didn’t recognize. Though plenty of strangers approached her while they were out and about, especially at events such as this, it still put him on edge. Peering around the perfect style of (Y/N)'s hair, he found a man with dark hair and grown in facial hair approaching her. He was inches shorter than Harry, but with the way the group he'd drifted away from admired him, he could have been seven feet tall.

"Hi," (Y/N) politely answered. Harry didn't have to see her expression to be able to picture the neutral set to her mouth and the practiced light in her eyes.

"Sorry," the man said, voice accented with lilting vowels and an undulating melody. His eyes never strayed from (Y/N). "I don't mean to interrupt, I was just hoping I'd run into you while I was in the city. I'm Luca."

"Oh, no worries," she answered, just as perfectly pleasant as always, "Nice to meet you."

Harry watched on as she reached out a manicured hand for him to shake, only for Luca to bring her hand to his lips and press a kiss to her knuckle.

His hands in his pockets clenched.

This was the downside to keeping their relationship on the down low—everyone loved to assume she was available for the taking.

"Nice to meet you as well," Luca drawled, looking at (Y/N) through a fan of dark lashes. It was with a sudden glance in his direction that Luca seemed to realize she hadn't been standing off by herself. "Excuse me, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Luca."

With a clenched jaw, Harry offered his own greeting, reciprocating Luca's outstretched hand for no other reason than to ensure he wouldn't let it wander back towards (Y/N).

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, voice a bit stifled as he assessed the man before him.

"Are you—uh—a friend of (Y/N)'s?" Luca asked, taking a step back with his hand giving a slight flex before settling it into his pocket. The action had Harry's lips quirking into a small smile; it was entirely intentional just how tight his handshake was, but he would never admit that.

"I'm her bodyguard."

It was always with that statement that Harry had assessing eyes tracing over his form, taking stock of who he was as if his merits for his profession were painted on his clothing or tattooed on his arms.

"I bet she keeps you busy then, this one," Luca attempted to tease as if he knew anything at all about he or (Y/N).

Before Harry could manage to snip out his own reply, (Y/N) took over. "Luca, have we met before? Sorry, if I've forgotten—I have the worst memory," she laughed, "You look familiar."

That seemed to be just the question Luca had been waiting for, a dazzling smile settling on his features. "Ah, well," he started, suddenly—deceptively—bashful with his eyes dropping to his feet, "I am an F1 driver—for Ferrari, actually. You may have seen one of my races."

Harry had to make a point to keep from rolling his eyes.

"Oh wow," (Y/N) bubbled, perfect persona in place, "That's really cool! I have a friend who really enjoys that kind of thing, so maybe I've seen you on T.V."

"Yeah?" he chirped, decidedly more willing to talk about his profession now that (Y/N) may be familiar with him, "I was just in Las Vegas for a race a couple of weeks ago. Have you ever been before?"

Harry had to tune him out then, instead opting to look for Francesca through the new faces that had entered since being huddled in the corner with Luca The F1 Driver. Slipping into bodyguard mode, he only heard the polite mumblings of the conversation at his side, attempting to provide (Y/N) with as much privacy he could manage.

"Right, H?" (Y/N) asked, suddenly pulling him back into the moment from where he'd zoned out pretending to look for Francesca.

"Hm?" he hummed, blinking back into reality to find (Y/N) looking at him with Luca seemingly unimpressed with his inclusion. The thought had a lopsided smile touching at the corner of his lips.

"We're going to be in Milan next month, right?"

"Yes, from the ninth to the seventeenth. Why?" His question was aimed at Luca, forcing him to pay attention to him.

His smile looked especially pasted on this time when he matched Harry's attention. "I was just telling (Y/N) that I'll be racing again in Monza next month. Perhaps, you can catch the race while you're out there?"

"Maybe," (Y/N) answered noncommittally, "I'd have to check in and see what we have planned, and Harry usually has to—"

"No need to worry about that," Luca interjected, "I have a box you could spend the time in—I doubt you'll need any security up there."

A tick appeared in Harry's jaw, hinging it tighter. To be fair, it wasn't the most blatant attempt to get him out of the way he'd ever heard before, but it was certainly an attempt.

It was (Y/N) that had shrugged her shoulders, piping up first before Harry had a chance. "Oh, no," she waved Luca off with a polite smile, "Harry would be coming with me anyway."

At that, Harry could spot a small crack forming in Luca's facade. (Y/N) wasn't quite playing into whatever he had been hoping for when he meandered over to her.

"You just let me know, then," Luca settled on, features schooled into perfection though he did stray a glance towards Harry. "Sorry, I'm being so rude—can I get you a drink, (Y/N)?"

It took (Y/N) only a split second thought before she was jumping on the opportunity. "Yes, please, actually! Anything sweet works for me."

When (Y/N) made a move to pull out her phone, her own quiet way of dismissing Luca to the bar, Harry had to keep his features from showing his amusement. She had casually turned to face Harry, giving her back to the bar Luca had disappeared to.

With her eyes still low, she murmured, "Is he far enough away?"

"Mhm."

Looking up at him with wide eyes, she whispered, "Oh my god, is he being annoying or am I just in a bad mood?"

The exasperation in her tone was enough to have Harry letting out a chime of laughter. "No, he's definitely being annoying. Did y'really recognize him, or were y'jus' saying that?"

"Kind of," she waved off, whatever app on her phone taking a backseat for the moment, "I half-watched a race one time with Toriana but that's it. I just wanted him to stop talking to you."

"Of course, Fran had to be late today, right?" Harry joked, sharing a small smile with her before noticing Luca on his way back with bubbling drinks in hand.

"Seriously," (Y/N) sighed before spinning on her heel to face Luca once more. "Thank you so much!"

Now knowing how (Y/N) truly felt about her companion, Harry had to make a point to keep his amusement from touching his face when listening to the way she forced herself to pep up for him. It was interesting to him now, just how different it had been in the beginning, how difficult it had been for him to spot those differences in her personas—the split between who she truly was and who she hid behind. Now, all he needed to hear was the inflection of her voice, the arch of her spine, the gesticulating of her hands, and he could tell just where her comfort was sitting.

Luca's voice became a mumbling of monotone syllables to him, nothing to pay attention to as Harry observed the party and the patrons. He kept an ear out for (Y/N), ensuring she wasn't in need of him, though he had to make a point to keep from laughing at the sound of her faux-giggles between sips of sugary alcohol.

Though he wasn't a fan of hearing others hit on his girlfriend, it was rather funny to hear just how clueless they were to her disinterest when it was so clear to his own ears.

Of course, until Luca put his hands on her.

It was slow, the way he'd grown closer to her after noticing Harry had averted his attention some. He took small steps, shifting his weight and leaning in as if he couldn't hear her over the low music playing. Once he deemed himself close enough, Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, his hand landing on the small of her back, sliding around to settle on the curve of her waist as if he wasn't clearly flinching away.

A too loud laugh filtered from her mouth then, enough to have Harry's attention sharpening and pinning on the interaction.

As casually as possible, (Y/N) attempted to step out of Luca's grip. Though it didn't appear that he caught the hint with the way he shifted towards her once more, closing the gap she'd opened.

There was a moment, with the sight of his hand on her waist, fingertips dipping into the folds of her dress as they curled to the line of her body, that Harry wondered just how many grainy videos and opinionated essays would be posted if he stepped in and pushed Luca away.

He'd bet it would be more than either he or (Y/N) would care to see.

It was when (Y/N) looked at him over her shoulder, a fleeting glance, one that could have easily been mistaken for a flip of her hair, that Harry stepped in. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, greedily pulling her away from Luca's grip.

"Francesca's here," he murmured, voice just loud enough for Luca to clue into the fact that his time with (Y/N) was over.

Spinning to face him, (Y/N) looked to him with relief in her eyes. "Really?" she bubbled, glancing back at Luca for a moment though she was already heading into Harry's arms, "It was nice talking to you, Luca!"

Harry almost wanted to gloat when he saw how Luca stuttered over himself, absently reaching out as (Y/N) slipped through his fingers.

"Oh—Um—Let me know about Monza, yeah? I'd love to see you again before I leave the city, maybe tom—"

"I'm really busy this week, but maybe! I'll see about Monza and have Harry reach out!"

It was with that final remark, that (Y/N) began leading the charge away from Luca and the corner he'd huddled her into. Harry followed after her, shifting his arm until he had his palm on her bicep.

"Thank god," (Y/N) sighed once they were far enough away, "Did you hear him?"

"I tried not to," Harry murmured, guiding her through the throngs of people, slowing when unfamiliar faces said greetings in passing, "What did he say?"

(Y/N) shook her head. "I know more about his racing stats than I think I know about myself."

Typical, Harry figured. Of course, once the veil was lifted, would Luca leave the shy act behind to boast about his job in hopes of impressing (Y/N).

"'M not surprised," he said, just before (Y/N) changed their course.

Instead of following the line of the bar and those gathered in the living area, she turned them towards a hallway branching off the main room. It was decidedly quieter than where the party was.

"Do you think there's a bathroom down here?" (Y/N) muttered, scanning her eyes down the few doors lining the hall, "I want to hide for a second."

It was (Y/N)'s request—that she wanted to hide away after speaking to Luca—that had him trying his hand at his own exploration. Even if he didn't hide a restroom, he would find somewhere quiet for his girl to decompress.

On a whim, he reached towards the handle of a passing door. Pushing it open, a pristine bathroom sat inside. Convenient.

Gently pulling her over the threshold first, Harry made a point to take a look around, intending to catch if anyone had wandering eyes that had landed on them. Though he couldn't be sure no one had caught them stealing away together, at least no one was watching as they went into the bathroom together.

Setting her drink on the counter, (Y/N) sat on the edge of an elaborate tub with a heaving sigh. Her shoulders settled down, sloping downwards as she looked up at the ceiling for a second.

"I don't know if I've been that annoyed since Paris," she muttered, rolling her neck.

A small smile settled on Harry's lips then. Leaning against the marbled countertop, he crossed his arms over his chest as he gazed at her. "Maybe we should've stayed home, hm?"

"I told you so," she countered, looking to him with amusement in her eyes. "How much do you wanna bet that Fran hasn't even left the house yet?"

He watched as she pulled out her phone from her purse, checking through whatever tabs she had open before he unfurled from where he was leaning against the counter. Crossing the pristine tiles under his feet, he crouched in front of where (Y/N) was huddled on the edge of the tub.

Placing a hand carefully on the bone of her ankle, he whispered to her despite already being alone in the space. "Y'alright?"

"Yeah," she sighed, slowing her tapping on her phone before she dropped her phone to rest on her lap, "He was just annoying—he wasn't, like... scaring me or anything."

"Good, good," he murmured, stroking his thumb over the curve of her leg.

"Are you okay?" she prodded, settling her hand on his cheek.

Leaning into her touch without a second thought, he shuttered his eyes in a lingering blink. "'M okay. I don't know why, but it was hard to watch him—or listen to him."

She tossed him a shrewd glance. "Yeah? You didn't like watching him ask me out?"

He shook his head, cheeks stretching around his growing grin. "I didn't, actually. It actually made me a little angry. I wanted to punch him when he touched you."

"Really?!" she bubbled, a plume of laughter falling from her lips, "I didn't think you could get jealous! You're always so calm!"

"Was I jealous?" he prodded, tugging on her leg in a teasing pull, "Is that what happened?"

"It sounds like it! You wanted to hit him?" she asked again, leaning towards him with a conspiratorial gleam to her eyes.

"Maybe," he mused, "If he'd done anything to upset you, I might have. He was already annoying enough."

There had to have been something in his answer that she enjoyed seeing as she pressed forward and sealed her mouth to his. He smiled into the contact for a moment, dimples in his cheeks before melting into her touch. Slotting his lips to hers, it was (Y/N) that deepened the kiss with a trace of her tongue over the pillows of his lips.

The sounds of their lips parting and coming together filtered through the bathroom as Harry reached towards her hand on his face, wrapping his fingers around the fine bones of her wrist. It was when he scraped his teeth over the full of her bottom lip, a small nip, that she parted her crossed legs and drew him between her thighs.

He was hyper aware of the party going on outside the door, and the fact that this was the apartment of someone he'd never met before, but at the same time Harry didn't care.

If she liked seeing him jealous this much, he wasn't going to stop her.

At the movement of her legs, her phone was tossed to the floor, landing on a bathmat at her feet. Neither had acknowledged the thump, until it started vibrating with a call.

(Y/N) reluctantly pulled away with a sigh, resting her forehead on his. "It's Fran, isn't it?"

"Probably," he muttered, blindly reaching for her phone before handing it off.

Harry only had to see the way she pulled in a long breath, an affectionate roll of her eyes, before she pressed the device to her ear that told him their suspicions were right.

"Hello?" she answered, drifting her hand from his cheek to card through her hair.

Getting only one side of the conversation, Harry had to put the pieces together while watching the expressions that crossed her face. As far as he could tell, Francesca was especially amusing today.

"Yes, we're here," (Y/N) continued, nodding along to whatever Fran was bubbling about. "Yes, me and Harry... No, she's not here—as far as I've seen anyway... When are you going to get here?.. We'll still be here; we're just in the bathroom right now." She paused just before a peal of laughter rang through the room, her nails grazing over his scalp. (The touch had a certain shiver streaking down his spine). "No! We're hiding from some F1 guy that keeps inviting us to some race next month... If you want, you can go instead. I don't know if he has a yacht, but I'm sure you could convince him."

Gazing up at her from where he sat before her, Harry felt his own lips curving into a lopsided smile. He loved seeing her stripped down like this; she'd told him more than once that he was one of the only people he was able to vulnerable and herself around, but he'd seen just how young she was around Francesca. He could see glimpses of who she was before he'd met her, the girl who'd been around before cameras were documenting her every move.

It had his heart rattling against his ribs.

With his wandering head, Harry hadn't realized she'd ended her call until she hung up the phone and placed both of her hands on his cheeks.

"Do you know how many times I've wished I could be in your head?" she told him, a small smile to her lips, "I just want to know what you're thinking—you're so hard to read."

"'S you," he said, sincerity rivaling the lighthearted tone to her voice,"'S always you."

She looked at him with amusement in her eyes, the same way she always did when he said something adoring: as if she didn't believe him, instead waiting for the joke to land.

He could do nothing other than surge forward and press his lips to hers. He'd always been better at showing than telling her how he felt.

—————

thank u sm to whoever requested and for everyone who read to this point! so sorry for any mistakes, and please let me know if you have any fun ideas of your own:)

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shanastoryteller · 1 day

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Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!

He’s fucking tired.

In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.

In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.

This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.

He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.

Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.

Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.

“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.

“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”

Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”

“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”

“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”

Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”

Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”

“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”

“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.

Uhg.

It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.

#ling shows up halfway through this deception and is like hi ed why are you dressed like that and why are you talking like that #and ed has to strangle a prince of xing to keep his fucking mouth shut #every second he's ever spent at court was a mistake #al and winry are pulled between being appalled about this whole thing and thinking it's the funniest thing they've ever heard #prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #fma

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forsworned · 2 days

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Okay, okay, hear me out . I neeed a y/n sweet innocent thing who works with 141 (probably computer shit) idk but she wanted to step out her shell & goes out drinking with the boys were she loses a bet with soap & he makes y/n wear a skimpy outfit like those " hot nurse or maid" outfits around the team for a day and it makes price and/or ghost go absolutely feral . The end. Please and thank you p s love your writing.

Author's note: You know normally I do not do these sort of requests because I think that the whole like oh y/n needs to dress in something slutty because she lost a bet schtick is like somewhat demeaning. Like I'm all for it happening to the 141 or whatever but, I put my own spin on it, so even if you don't enjoy it I will but thank you for supporting me anon <3 also screaming at the images I chose for this hahaha

Despite the fact that being in the military was a constant inner battle of not becoming a barrack bunny, it made it a bit easier knowing that 90% of the men were just straight-up fucking whores. So when you lose 7-6 in back-to-back rounds of Blackjack to Johnny, he thinks it's funny to propose a bet that leaves you practically bare-ass naked to every soldier on base.

"'ll be like wearin' a bikini." He says.

To which you can give him a piercing glare that sends an unpleasant shudder up his spine, but regardless he's laughing his ass off. It's not exactly an everyday occurrence that Johnny is winning bets against you so he's taking advantage of the opportunity to embarrass you just as much as you do him.

Wolf whistles and cat calls are heard from the common area that the 141 was currently lounging in, and their ears perk up at the sound of heels clicking against the floor.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, you really wore it, bonnie." Johnny eyes are twinkling and his grin is stretched from ear to ear when he gets a gander at you.

You're wearing the sluttiest maid outfit you could have ever conjured up from many, many, many Halloween's ago when you were in your Chicks Gone Wild Era (iykyk) and Price, Kyle and Simon are flabbergasted by your appearance. Kyle is dropping his spoon that he just stirred his coffee with, Simon is half turning the page to his book and Price just straight up chokes on his London Fog, sputtering it all over his MacBook.

"Fuck you." You mutter, plopping down on the couch next to Simon as you readjust the mobcap on your head. Your dress is riding up as you sit, but you cross your legs and Price is handing you a pillow to cover yourself up to which you sheepishly smile up at him and thank him.

"Why are ye complainin'? Y'look good, bonnie."

"You put her up to this?" Kyle asks, bewildered at the situation unfolding.

"Lookin' good, Serg!" A passing herd of soldiers call out to you as they chuckle amongst themselves and continue to whistle at you.

You shake your head and turn to Johnny with an exasperated look. "Is this what you wanted? To embarrass me?"

"It's not very becoming of you, Johnny." Price murmurs against his mug before taking a sip but it's evident that his face is reddening by the second by your scanty appearance.

"Oh, she does it to me all th' time!" Johnny throws his hands up in half frustration and half amusement.

But Simon on the other hand is silent. He doesn't really know what to say, but he's starting to feel the warmth rushing between his legs.

"L.t., thoughts?"

And Johnny knows exactly what the fuck he's doing while he's shooting him that shit-eating grin that makes Simon want to fucking bumrush the absolute shit out of the Scotsman.

Admittedly this has Kyle and Price's tongues poking their cheeks as they await his answer.

"Y'r a fuckin' slag, Johnny."

And that causes the room to erupt into laughter as you're all clapping your knees and keeling over. Johnny is slightly embarrassed by the jab, but nonetheless, is laughing along. It was nice to have a little laugh in the 141.

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multiversalfandomwriter222 · 17 hours

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Hi hii I'm the one who sent the az request! AND I ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT!! 🩷🩷

would you write reader saying something she doesn't mean and making az cry and then comforting him? (Established relationship btw so like they're already mated) basically the same thing but roles reversed 😭 I'm sorry I just love angst to fluff too much!! Thank you and have nice day/night bb <333

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Azriel crying, slight mean Azriel.

At Least Tell Me

You slam the door as you go into your bedroom, everyone in the House flinching. Cassian walks into Rhysand's office, confusion all over his face. "What's wrong with Y/n?" He asks.

Rhys sighs heavily. "Azriel's on a mission, and he's coming back tonight." Cassian tilts his head. "Shouldn't she be happy?"

"Azriel didn't tell her that she left." Rhys sighs. Cassian's eyes widen. "How did she not-" "Azriel told her that he was going to visit his mother for a day and was going to return this morning. He has been gone three days, and Feyre darling told her yesterday that he was on a mission. Y/n has been slamming doors ever since." Rhys says, exasperated. Cassian shakes his head. "Y/n's temper rivals Nes, we may have to evacuate the house just because." Rhys snorts.

Time Skip-

Azriel lands on the balcony of the house, being greeted by his High Lady. "Y/n is pissed at you." Feyre says. Azriel's shoulders slump. "I know." "It's going to be bad." Feyre says. Azriel nods, and walks into the house, ready to face the wrath of his mate.

You knew Azriel was in the house. You overheard your older sister talking to him. But the rage bubbling inside was hard to keep a lid on it.

The door opens to reveal your mate, his wings drooped slightly. You turn to face your vanity, not bothering to make eye contact in the mirror with him. "I'm home." Azriel says.

"That's a first." You say coldly. Azriel sighs. "Y/n-"

"No don't you Y/n me! What the fuck Azriel?" You shout. Azriel flinches slightly, and the mask of the shadowsinger appears in that second. "I did what I had to do."

You laugh. "You did what you had to do." You laugh some more. "Did we hear that?" You yell, laughter erupting from you. Azriel rolls his eyes at you. "Azriel, you lied to me! Do you not see what's wrong with that? I was worried for you! I thought something happened to you!"

You come closer to him. "You don't need to worry about me." He says. "That was being reckless." You snap. Azriel lets out a cold, mocking laugh. "Now that's a joke. Miss Reckless, calling me reckless!" He scoffs. The shadows move about, flurrying in the range of emotions between the two of you.

You let out a yell of frustration. "See this is why I fucking hate you Azriel! By the gods, somedays I just want to fucking leave and never return!"

You cover your mouth, eyes widening. Azriel goes still, his shadows dropping. The house grows silent. You step back and Azriel rushes toward you. He kneels and clings to your legs. "A-Angel, I'm sorry. I'm so-" Huge sobs cut him off as he sobs into your stomach. "Angel please don't-" he sobs. "Please don't leave me. You can hate me all you want, just don't leave me."

Your heart breaks as you kneel to meet Azriel's height. "Oh no. Baby I'm so sorry. It cannot make up for my words and I'll do anything to make it up to you. Darling I'm so sorry." You wipe his tears away.

Azriel pulls you into his lap and buries his face into your neck. "Just don't leave me. Don't leave me." He sobs. "Oh baby, I'm not leaving you. I don't hate you, not at all. Oh baby." You coo, rocking the both of you left and right.

Finally, his sobs quiet, and he pulls away to look at you. "I'm sorry baby." You whisper. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry for lying to you. I shouldn't have. I should have been up front, and-"

You kiss him, interrupting his rant, and he desperately kisses you back. You break away and rest your forehead against his. "Do you want to take a bath first, then nap? Or do you want to nap, then take a bath?" You whisper. "Nap." He murmurs. He picks you up and carries you to your shared bed. You take off your dress, revealing your bra and panties, and Azriel strips down to his boxers.

You get into the bed first, opening the covers for him. Azriel follows right behind you and buries his face into your stomach, and you run your hands through his black hair, slowly putting him to sleep.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #hurt/comfort #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar series #acowar #acosaf #acomaf

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wholoveseggs · 3 days

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Hi love,, how about elijah and reader have recently broken up and ready is exploring other options but elijah is still madly in love and gets super jealous? I’m thinking super rough with a touch of angst but mostly anger and jealousy?! (also a lot of kinks) ⋆˚✿˖°

Madness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You bring a date to the Mikaelson party, specifically to attract the attention of your estranged husband. The plan backfires; he's not the type to let you go so easily and makes sure to remind you that no one will ever take his place.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @spideysbabe & @ashloring! I love writing about Elijah's wild side ♡♡

6.4k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, dom!Elijah, angry sex, rough sex, biting, blood drinking, spanking, jealousy, rim job (f!receiving), anal sex, riding, Elijah being possessive, lots of praise and a little degradation.

You probably shouldn't have brought a date to a Mikaelson party, but considering how you and Elijah ended things, you saw no problem with it. Was it petty? Yes. Was it immature? Also yes. Were you feeling a bit vindicated when you walked in the door and saw the look on Elijah's face? Absolutely.

You found the hottest guy possible on tinder, the kind with zero brains and all brawn. He was the perfect rebound, the type with an inability to commit to anyone, let alone you, but that's not what you wanted from him anyway. All you wanted was to make your ex jealous, and judging by the glare he shot at your date, it was working.

To the undiscerning eye, Elijah appeared to be the picture of composure, greeting the guests in one of his favorite suits. But you knew him better than that, and you could see the twitch in his jaw, the slight tension in his shoulders. And judging by the way he was avoiding your gaze, he was pissed.

When he was pissed, specifically at you, he would usually get you alone and give you a proper dressing down, and it always turned you on, a lot. The first time you'd fucked after a fight, it had taken you both by surprise. His usual gentle nature had given way to a possessiveness that made you see stars, and ever since, you'd been chasing the feeling.

You didn't really have a plan, a part of you wanted to do the healthy thing and move on, but there was another part of you, a part that was addicted to Elijah,that just wanted him back, it had been that way for so long you could barely remember a time before him. You were still mad at him, though, so you decided the best thing to do would be to try to make him jealous.

Your date wasn't going to last past tonight, you knew that, but he was the perfect prop for your little game. You knew Elijah would find you, you just needed to set the stage, so you pulled the big dumb beefcake to the dance floor.

He was a terrible dancer, but you didn't care, it wasn't about him. You already caught him flirting with several other women in the short amount of time you'd been here, but you couldn't be bothered. As long as he showed up on your arm, and looked hot while doing it, that's all that mattered.

"That asshole in the suit has been staring at us this whole time, and he doesn't seem too happy," your date said, trying to whisper, but it came out much too loud. You'd chosen him specifically because of that, you liked the way people looked at the two of you.

"Don't worry about him," you replied, pressing yourself against his body a little closer. "He's an ex. A controlling ex."

"He looks a little old for you, what is he like? 35?" Your date asked, looking directly at Elijah.

You stifled a laugh, "close enough, I guess."

"How long were you together? He's still giving me death eyes," he whispered, not subtly.

"A while," you shrugged, "but that doesn't matter anymore." You leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "I'm yours for the night."

You'd hoped he'd get the hint, but apparently it took a lot of hints for him to understand that you were looking for sex, and not anything else.

"Why'd you break up? He's obviously still hung up on you." The music changed, and he was still talking. "Did he cheat on you? I know a lot of guys who do that."

"No, nothing like that," you answered, your annoyance growing, "he's just a selfish asshole who likes to masquerade about his morals." You weren't entirely lying, you were pretty sure Elijah's ego was the driving force behind his recent decisions. "Plus he has a tiny cock," you added, for good measure.

Your date laughed, and you had to laugh along, you could feel Elijah's glaze burning into you. You glanced his way and his eyes met yours, and you had to resist the urge to blush under his gaze. His eyebrows were raised, a twinkle of amusement and anger in his eyes. You could practically hear him telling you that wasn't funny, that you were acting like a child.

Elijah always hated when you acted out. It was like he wanted you to be some sort of prim and proper lady, which you were for the most part. But every now and then, you felt the urge to be bad, and you enjoyed pushing his buttons.

"Get me a drink?" You asked your date, batting your eyelashes and giving him a wide smile.

"Of course," he replied, before heading off to the bar.

You went to a nearby table and leaned against it, trying to appear casual. You felt Elijah's presence behind you, and your stomach twisted in anticipation.

"Do you think I don't know what you're doing?" He asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Whatever do you mean?" You asked, pretending to be coy.

"This boy isn't going to last past tonight, so why did you invite him here?" He asked, leaning forward, his lips almost touching your ear.

"I don't know, I thought he might be fun," you shrugged, playing innocent. "I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to date other people," you added, knowing it would infuriate him.

"You are allowed to do whatever you want, but there will always be consequences," he replied, his voice low. "And your boy is getting a bit too friendly with my sister, don't you think?"

You glanced over, and sure enough, your date was chatting up Rebekah. Poor guy had no idea that Rebekah could eat him alive.

"I think Rebekah can handle herself," you said, looking away.

"You're not upset? You don't seem particularly attached to him," he asked, his fingers lightly brushing against your elbow.

"Worried that someone else has claimed my heart?" You asked, turning around to face him, a teasing smile on your lips.

"No, because I know it will always belong to me," he replied, a smirk on his face, a knowing look in his eyes. He always knew how to disarm you, and piss you off.

"I'm not yours, I think I made that very fucking clear," you snapped, your smile fading. The pain of your breakup was still fresh, and his arrogant attitude only fueled the fire.

"We both know that's not true," he said, stepping closer. "Even if we're not together, you're still mine."

"You are such an arrogant prick," you huffed, trying not to show how much his words affected you. You wanted to hate him, and sometimes you could, but in moments like this, your feelings for him overwhelmed you.

"If you think insulting me will erase how you feel for me, then you are deluded," he scoffed, before grabbing the back of your head, forcing you to meet his gaze.

He paused for a moment, taking in the fire in your eyes, the defiance that turned him on. He loved the struggle, it always led to the sweetest surrender with you.

"Did he fuck you yet?" He asked, his lips dangerously close to yours.

"That's none of your business," you snapped, pulling your head out of his grip.

Your date returned with the drinks before you could say anything, placing one in your hands.

"Here, honey. I got you a dirty martini," he said, before glancing at Elijah. "Get your own girl, mate, this one's mine," he added, wrapping an arm around your waist.

The blood boiled in Elijah's veins and he resisted the urge to grab this stupid boy by his head and slam it onto the table. Instead he gave him a deadly glare, smiling when the poor fool flinched slightly.

"You are aware that you are in my home with your arm around my wife," he said, his voice deceptively calm. He could feel you watching him, waiting for his reaction, and he was determined not to give you the satisfaction. Not yet, anyway.

"Your wife?" The boy sputtered, loosening his grip on you. "I didn't realize...I..."

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that he was letting Elijah intimidate him. You see Elijah's self-satisfied grin and it pisses you off.

"Don't mind him," you said, patting your date's chest. "He's just a control freak who's a bit threatened by younger men." You looked up at him, giving him a teasing smile. You knew you were poking the bear, but you couldn't help it, Elijah was making you feel things, and you were determined not to let him win.

Elijah leaned in close, his pupils dilating as he compelled him. "Sit and be quiet," he commanded, and the boy obeyed without question.

"What did you do that for?" You hissed, slapping him on the shoulder. "He didn't do anything to deserve that." The truth was, he wasn't doing much for you, but he didn't need to know that.

"There, now we can continue our conversation," Elijah said, ignoring your protest. "Now, answer my question. Did you fuck him yet?" He asked, his tone serious. His hand was resting on your hip, his grip firm. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving you crazy.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, trying to remain unaffected by the whole exchange.

"It was either that or kill him," he shrugged.

"Well, now you're being a bit dramatic," you scoffed. You were determined to maintain the upper hand, despite the fact that he was getting under your skin. "He's an idiot, but he didn't deserve to die."

Rebekah had noticed the two of you standing there, and she headed over. She knew about your recent fight, and the reason for it. She also knew that the two of you were a disaster when it came to communicating, so she did what she did best and interfered.

"Well, well, what is this?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Just a friendly conversation, dear sister," Elijah replied, his voice tight.

Rebekah looked down at the dazed man sitting between them, and then back up to the two of you. "Doesn't seem very friendly."

"Your brother is a possessive asshole, who thinks he owns me," you said, glaring at him.

"Your sister in law is acting like a child, trying to provoke me," Elijah replied, matching your glare.

Rebekah looked back and forth between the two of you, before shaking her head. "You two are exhausting," she sighed, "I think it's time for your date to leave, fix him, and send him home," she added, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Elijah sighed and looked down at your date, "stand up," he commanded, watching as the man did as he was told. "You will leave and forget that my wife even exists,"

"Elijah! You can't make someone forget me!" You said, outraged. Your plan was backfiring. You were supposed to piss him off and make him jealous, not the other way around.

Before Elijah could respond Rebekah grabbed the both of you by the arm and led you upstairs, into an empty bedroom.

"The two of you are being ridiculous. Acting like children and making a scene. This party was supposed to be a nice, relaxing evening. We are not in a fucking reality show," she scolded, her face turning red with anger. "Now, you are going to work this out, so I don't have to witness this bullshit anymore."

She slammed the door before either of you could respond. You turned to look at Elijah, and for a moment, the two of you were silent, the air filled with tension.

"Y/n," Elijah started, reaching out for your hand, but you pulled it away.

"I'm not doing this with you right now," you replied, moving towards the door, but Elijah blocked your way.

"Move," you ordered, glaring at him.

"No, not until you talk to me," he said, his jaw clenching.

"Or what? You'll compel me to stay?" You scoffed.

Elijah's expression changed to anger, taking a step forward and backing you up against the wall.

"You know that I would never do that," he growled, his voice low.

"You compelled my date, Elijah, and that was pretty low, even for you," you retorted, your hands coming up to push on his chest.

"That man was an absolute bore," he responded, a slight grin on his face.

"That doesn't make what you did okay, Elijah!" You shouted, frustration bubbling inside you.

"Don't pretend like you care, this isn't about him," he laughed. He knew what you were trying to do, and you hated that. "You brought him here because you want to provoke me," he continued, "you want to punish me."

"Maybe," you sighed, looking away, the heat between the two of you simmering. "Look, we just keep having the same fight," you finally said after a moment, still refusing to make eye contact. "We're never going to agree on this."

"We've overcome much worse in our time together," he countered, reaching out to cup your cheek, turning your head back towards him. "We are meant to be together. I know it, and you know it.

"Then why do you keep doing this to me, to us?" You whispered, barely audible. "You let Klaus use you over and over again, and it always ends badly. Why can't you just be satisfied with what we have?" You were trying hard not to cry, your emotions a messy jumble of pain, love and anger.

"My brother can be very persuasive, he's had over a thousand years to work on that," he explained, his thumb wiping away a tear that had slipped out. "He needs someone to believe in him, to fight for him, and it seems no one other than me is capable of that, or wants to even try."

You had heard this all before, the endless excuses, the justifications. "Don't you think its time he figured his own shit out and stop using you for it?" You snapped, losing your patience again. "He treats you like a means to an end, Elijah, and that has to hurt. I see how it hurts you, and it pains me to see you like this."

"What you are doing, fucking some nameless wretch just to piss me off, that hurts far more than Klaus," Elijah growled, his face inches from yours.

You opened your mouth to argue, but his lips crashed down onto yours, stealing your breath from you. You tried to resist him, but it was impossible. His kiss was intoxicating and you melted against him. Your hands tangled in his hair as you tugged him closer. He groaned and you pulled away, pushing against his chest, hard. He stumbled back a bit, a look of surprise on his face. He blinked, confused and you moved toward the door once again.

He grabbed your wrist, stopping you and pulling you to him. His lips were on yours in an instant, claiming you, dominating you. There was no point in fighting it, you were his, and you both knew it.

He moved to your throat and your head tipped back as he gently sucked and nipped at the delicate skin there. A small moan escaped your lips and your knees felt weak, a wet heat spreading between your thighs.

Your free hand wrapped in his tie and pulled him back to your lips. The kiss was raw and needy, and it awakened a fierce hunger inside both of you. Elijah let go of your hand and roughly grabbed your hips, lifting you up, slamming you into the wall. The force knocked the wind out of you but it wasn't enough to make you stop.

"Eli," you said with a bit more urgency, knowing that neither of you could keep it up much longer before you took things much, much further. "I - I can't, we shouldn't..." You tried to argue, but your body was betraying you, and his touches were setting your skin aflame.

Elijah released your hand and tugged at the hem of your dress, pulling it up to your hip. His hand dipped between your thighs, finding the soft, soaked lace of your underwear, a smirk spreading across his face.

"Liar," he whispered into your ear.

It wasn't like you had no control. If you wanted him to stop, all you had to do is say no and you knew Elijah would, but that's not what you really wanted. All your anger and frustration was dissolving into pure lust.

Elijah moved your panties aside, gently stroking his fingertips along your wet slit, slowly dragging the pad of his middle finger around your clit before dipping into your core. He watched the desire on your face as he pushed two fingers inside you and his eyes darkened at how wet you were for him.

"You're such a greedy little thing," he groaned into your ear, pumping his fingers deeper, "always so wet for me."

His fingers pumped faster and harder, his mouth finding yours, muffling your moans. When his thumb started massaging your clit, that was all it took. You shuddered as an orgasm rolled through you and you clutched at his shoulders to stay upright.

Elijah could feel you tremble and shake beneath him as waves of ecstasy washed over you. He chuckled softly, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt. He slid the digits into your mouth, making you gag as they touched the back of your throat. You could taste the tang of your juices on them.

Elijah removed his fingers and you inhaled deeply, swallowing hard to clear the tickling in your throat.

"So beautiful when you come undone," he muttered, bringing you even closer, crushing you into his body. "I've missed hearing my name tumble from those sinful lips of yours."

You felt the blush creep into your cheeks and you buried your head into his neck.

"Elijah, this isn't us getting back together," you breathed into him. "This is sex," you clarified, even as your heart tightened in your chest. "Can you live with that?"

You could feel his smile on his lips.

"Can you?" he shot back.

His hand was resting on the curve of your bottom and he suddenly gripped it, his nails digging into your flesh. His fangs grazed the sensitive skin of your neck before sinking into your vein, and the sting was the best type of pleasure.

A small cry escaped your lips. With each pull of blood he was drinking more, sucking deeper, making it harder to breathe. You grabbed his biceps, clinging to him, the mix of intense pleasure and pain muddling your thoughts.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he finished drinking his fill and began licking the wound, a gentle groan escaping his lips.

"You've been mine for eight hundred years, do you think I would just give you up so easily?" He whispered, his breath tickling your neck. "If all we have to settle for is sex, then I will take it."

He lifted up his arm and offered you his wrist, without a second thought you sank your fangs into him, a rich taste filling your mouth. You drank deeply from his veins, and he held you close, watching your eyes darken and veins ripple around them.

He smiled and pushed your hair behind your ears, running his thumbs over your cheekbones. You wanted him badly, and as your gaze focused on him, a thrill went through your body. His hair was disheveled, his lips slick with the remnants of your blood, his eyes dark with arousal. He looked dangerous and sexy and so incredibly delicious. You needed more of him.

He set you down, letting your feet touch the floor, his hand tangled in your hair. Your gaze dropped to the erection straining against his tailored slacks. You knew exactly what he wanted you to do, but even when he was this worked up, he would never ask, always the gentleman.

You didn't want the gentleman though, it reminded you too much of the love the two of you once shared. No, tonight you wanted the possessive, rough, jealous vampire. The one he hid behind his red door and only let you see. You liked when he was ruthless.

You sank to your knees before him and he loosened his hold on your hair. With one hand, you grabbed his hip, while your other hand deftly unbuttoned his slacks. As you lowered the zipper, your breath brushed over the straining silk boxers, and you could hear him let out a soft growl.

You paused before freeing his cock, leaning in, placing a light kiss on the hard fabric and felt his muscles go tight. You were going to tease him, never quite giving him what he wanted, until he took charge. You needed that rough touch, the kind that could shatter the windows and break bones. The kind of touch you secretly longed for.

You pulled his boxer briefs down just a little, running the pad of your thumb down the underside of his length, before blowing cool air over him and making him twitch. Keeping your eyes on him, you leaned forward again, this time letting your tongue lick across the tip, cleaning his pre-cum from it.

His hands were in your hair, more forcefully now. You continued the teasing, until his grip was painfully tight, you could see the gentleman leaving him. It excited you more than you ever wanted to admit, even to yourself. You knew it wouldn't be much longer before he was ruining you.

Taking his thick girth into your hand, you moved your tongue to swirl around the tip. This time his response was not so reserved, a low, deep sound emitting from his chest.

You sucked lightly on the head, hollowing your cheeks and slowly stroking him in time with your movements. You purposefully kept him from feeling the full effect of your mouth. He was losing the battle over his restraint.

One of his hands cupped your chin, making you look up at him. There was a wild look in his eyes, his breathing ragged. He was trying not to let you push him, he wanted to have slow, passionate sex, make you want to come home and be with him again.

But tonight was not the night for that.

You fought your gaze, fluttering your lashes at him coyly. You saw it on his face, a war being waged. Only you could do this to him, undo his defenses, strip him bare.

"You wish to be treated like a whore," he said quietly, his words sounding almost bitter, though his voice had a strange timbre to it, a hint of excitement.

You tried to nod, your mouth still full of his cock, and his grip on your hair tightened, keeping you in place. He sighed, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone, an odd tenderness.

"Whatever my love wants," he murmured, sounding as if it hurt to say those words. He shoved himself deeper, not stopping when you started to cough, drool slipping down the corners of your mouth. He was so big, his size always overwhelmed you and made tears prickle your eyes.

You worked to breathe, knowing he was not going to be gentle this time. One of his hands left you and pressed into the wall, anchoring himself as he started to fuck your face with a bruising pace.

"Is this how you want to be treated? Letting me fuck your throat raw," Elijah hissed, his cock hitting the back of your throat and you gagged, saliva spilling over and down your chin. "I guess I don't have to hear your snide remarks now, do I?"

You didn't know what you expected, but this was exactly what you had been hoping for. He pulled on your hair hard, pressed your face into his hip, the hairs there making you twitch and your nostrils burn. Your hands gripped his thighs, trying to push him back as you struggled to breathe. You could only make rasping noises, your eyes tearing up, droplets pooling before they spilled.

He pulled you off, allowing you to breathe. Your chest was heaving, a long string of saliva hanging between his cock and your mouth. You kept his eye contact, your lips swollen and slick.

"Good," he murmured. "I'm glad you can finally understand that no other man will ever own you the way I do."

"You don't own me," you rasped out and the fire in his gaze burned.

The words were barely out of your mouth when he threw you onto the bed, the force making your head spin. He tore at the top of your dress, sending bits of fabric flying everywhere. You lay there panting, his eyes hungrily devouring every inch of your half naked form.

"Spread your legs," he commanded, not moving towards the bed, watching intently, waiting for you to comply.

"No," you responded, holding his stare, defiance flashing in your eyes.

His shirt was missing several buttons now, torn open to reveal the toned planes of his stomach and chest. In an instant he was on the bed, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling you underneath him. A slight grin playing on his lips.

"Do you think I don't see what game you are playing? If you want the monster, you've got him, darling," he whispered before capturing your mouth in a rough kiss.

His hands reached up, taking the cups of your bra down. When his fingers closed over your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh roughly, you couldn't contain your gasping cry, his thumbs pinching your nipples painfully.

"Tell me, did your little date fuck you like I do?" He growled against your chest.

You whimpered, twisting in his grasp, but his strength was no match for you, you could already see it in the flexing of his muscles. He bit down hard on your nipple, the shock of pain making you choke. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue swiping over the hardened peak soothingly, but his teeth held on tightly, biting at your sensitive skin.

"Answer me," Elijah demanded, raising his head to lock his gaze with yours.

"E-e-e-e," you stammered, struggling to speak as his hands moved to your hair, roughly twisting the strands together and pulling, tugging your head back.

"E-e-e-e?" He mocked, kissing a trail over the curve of your jaw, ending at your lips, teasing the flesh with his teeth.

"Fuck you," you breathed, anger spiking through the lust clouding your mind.

He flipped you over abruptly, slapping your ass. You struggled to get away, but his hands were pressed into your back, not allowing you to move.

"Did he," another smack landed on your bare skin and the stinging ache made you gasp.

"Fuck you?" Two more blows, this time to your opposite cheek and you clenched the bed sheets tightly.

He pushed your panties down, grabbing your hips and tilting your bottom towards him, spreading your legs, revealing your wet core. You moaned, the need growing and making your toes curl, desperate to be taken.

"Hmm," he mused, tracing his thumb down the seam of your pussy. You moaned into the covers, your head burrowed between your arms, your hands making fists in the sheet. He parted your swollen lower lips and let out a shaky breath when your arousal coated the pads of his digits. He moves his thumb to your ass, teasing your opening and you feel more heat spreading across your cheeks as you squirm in protest, whimpering.

He chucked, slapping your left butt cheek playfully. "You've no right to blush," he mused, leaning down and running the tip of his tongue along the crack, before blowing a small puff of cool air on you and the tickling sensation sent shivers down your spine.

"I bet he couldn't satisfy you the way I do. Even as he tried ...you were thinking of me."

You froze, caught off guard, and then your teeth were clenched and you tried to break from his grasp again. He was being such a damn cocky asshole, always believing himself superior. Your pride bristled under his comments, anger starting to well within. You began to protest and fight when suddenly he pressed his thumb against your puckered entrance, the digit sinking into the knuckle, making you mewl into the mattress.

"Don't..." your voice trailed off, losing your thoughts as your hips rocked trying to grind yourself against his hand.

"I will use you however I see fit," he said with a chuckle, biting into the flesh of your ass. "Don't pretend you don't like the depravity."

His words were spoken so low, so ragged. It was like his entire demeanor had changed, the door cracked open and the monster was breaking through. He roughly spread the globe of your ass with his free hand, and ran his tongue along the seam of your hole before flicking his tongue against the pucker. He continued teasing your rim, making it even more slippery with his spit and you relaxed into his touch.

He lined the tip of his cock with your ass, pressing lightly against it and your nails raked across the sheets, gasping as he moved slightly inside. You arched and wiggled your butt trying to move, make him work for this, even though your body craved everything he offered. He grabbed your wrists and forced your arms above your head, holding them there. You heard his heavy breathing as he thrust his hips forward, his cock sliding past the ring of muscles and sinking into your depths.

Your face was pressed into the pillow, and you couldn't contain the lewd groaning escaping from your lips when he sunk his cock into your ass and stretched you.

"Too much...ahhh," you mewled, turning your head to take a large gulp of air, the feeling was too much as he slowly rocked into your body. You could barely catch your breath. He wasn't even fully inside.

"no, don't, too much; none of those sound like our safe word," Elijah taunted, his lips hovering over your ear, his words coming out in short panted breaths. He pulled out before plunging deeper, you could hear him sucking in air through his gritted teeth, struggling to hold back and enjoy the torturous pace.

The sweet ache of having him there, the burn as your body struggled to adjust, made your head swim. You felt light headed, overwhelmed. He chuckled and began rocking slowly, the soft roll of his hips letting you feel every inch. His strokes were leisurely, no rushing, drawing out the torment. His fingertips traced down your spine, his palm rubbing a slow circle on your back, soothing the tension.

"Such a good girl," he purred, "taking everything I have to give you."

The pace of his strokes increased, becoming hard and relentless, shoving you into the bed. You bit down into the mattress trying to stifle your sounds as the mix of pleasure and pain became so intense you could only scream.

Suddenly, his hands were in your hair again. He tugged you back harshly, pulling you upright, your back now flush with his front, his cock pistoning into your ass so hard your teeth nearly rattled.

"Let them hear," Elijah whispered into your ear. "Tell everyone here who fucks you best."

His name tumbled out of your lips over and over as the pressure built, tears rolling down your cheeks. You were babbling his name, half sentences, moans, a bunch of nonsense. He was forcing another orgasm to the surface.

Just before you tumbled over the edge, he bit down into your neck and everything turned bright white and sparks flared behind your eyelids. When he stopped drinking your blood, he pushed you back down and pulled out.

You lay there trying to catch your breath before he sat you up, scooting you closer to the edge of the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders. His cock was in your pussy before you could even inhale and then you were screaming his name again.

"Good girl," he groaned, as his hands gripped your hips, bruises blossoming in the dips of your flesh. He didn't slow this time, instead, he shoved the both of you backwards and fucked you into the bed. "Is this what you wanted? Hard, messy, raw." He lifted you and placed you on his lap.

Your head fell into the crook of his neck, too far gone to keep yourself up. His hands were on your ass, lifting you up and down. You clung to him, your fingers tangled in his hair, overwhelmed by the feeling of him using you, taking everything you had. He felt too good, even like this. He knew your body better than you did.

His hand hit your ass, a loud cracking noise filling the room.

"Don't go limp," he snarled, wrapping your hair around his fist and twisting, wrenching your head back and up so that your eyes were forced to meet his. His face was so close, your breath mixed with his.

Your breathing was rapid and shallow, your chest rising and falling. He took one of his hands and intertwined your fingers together, holding you closer. There were no words exchanged, but the intimacy of the gesture made you start to cry. It was too sweet. You tried to squirm out of his grasp and escape this sudden, unbidden vulnerability that seemed to be taking over, but he tightened his hold, moving your hips slowly on his lap. The man was insatiable.

"Don't run from it," he whispered, his lips capturing yours, kissing you with such gentleness, you ached. This was supposed to be rougher, you shouldn't have fallen apart like this, given in, surrendered yourself to this part of him. But now...you couldn't bring yourself to turn away.

A wave of ecstasy was washing over you, the kind of blissful peace you had never felt anywhere but here, wrapped in Elijah's arms, him buried deep in your core, the two of you close, lost in the heat of a passion and connection.

"I want you here with me," his mouth hovered near yours, his hips working harder and harder. "You are my home," his words made your heart squeeze tight and tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. It had been a very long time since he had said such tender words to you. But it was the most desperate pleas, the broken whines that followed that you couldn't ignore.

Your arms closed around him, clinging to him. As if he were your anchor in this chaos. Your mind swam, the lines blurring. This moment was just the two of you, lost in the sensations. A single moment in the midst of the madness. He held onto you tightly, whispering words of praise and affection. The tension built until it snapped, leaving the both of you spent and exhausted.

His mouth was on yours again, swallowing your gasps as you both came down. You lay there for a few moments, your eyes closed, the sound of your hearts pounding loudly in the quiet. You couldn't remember the last time sex was this good. You felt so content and boneless.

You were so lost in the haze of afterglow, it wasn't until Elijah was helping you into a bath that you realized how much time had passed. The warm water lapped against your skin as he settled you onto his lap, his hand trailing up and down your arm. You rested your head against his shoulder, enjoying the peaceful quiet, his warmth surrounding you, his scent, the feel of his bare skin under your fingertips, the brush of his chest hair.

You weren't sure what to say, didn't know how to break the silence. It was like the past few months had not existed. But the pain, the agony, the heartache were fresh. You weren't sure if you were ready to forgive him yet, but it was a step in the right direction.

"Will you stay?" Elijah asked, breaking the silence. His hand paused, fingers splayed on your thigh. He shifted you, turning you so you were facing him. His face was solemn, his brow furrowed and eyes serious. He brought his hand up, cupping your face, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone. He waited patiently for an answer. His expression hopeful, but guarded. The question was simple enough, but it meant so much more.

"I will stay," you whispered, leaning into his touch. You couldn't deny it, he was a part of you, you would always love him. No matter how much you hated him at times, there was no life without him. He was your home. It would take time to rebuild the trust between the two of you, but you had to believe it was possible.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. His head dipped forward, his forehead pressed against yours, the two of you breathing each other's air.

"Good, because I would have done a lot of things I am not proud of, to get you back," Elijah whispered, his thumb swiping along your bottom lip.

Your brow shot up, and a playful smile crossed your face, "What kind of things?" You teased.

Elijah let out a sigh and pulled you closer, "Kidnap, murder, perhaps a bit of torture." His mouth brushed over yours, a quick chaste kiss.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Sounds healthy," you quipped.

"It was, I assure you." He replied, his lips brushing against yours. His tongue slid into your mouth, a deep, languid kiss, a slow exploration of every inch. He pulled back, his eyes boring into yours, the heat and intensity making your stomach flutter. "What is love, if not madness." He finished, his mouth crashing down on yours again.

You didn't have a response, all the air was sucked from your lungs and the ability to speak vanished. Instead, you simply kissed him, hoping he understood. That the two of you were a beautiful mess of chaos, but it worked. It was real. This was love.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡ @itsjulzandmydiamonds ♡ @spideysbabe ♡ @witch-of-letters ♡ @elijahmikaelsonsboy ♡ @rosecentury ♡

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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minniiaa · 3 days

Note

LawLu hc - Franky built Luffy captain's quarters that he only uses when Law stays over.

YES. Any in-universe OP fic of mine (and a lot of other fic writers) will most definitely have a captain's quarters that Luffy reserves just for his tired emo babygirl (Law).

Ever since they set sail on the Merry, Luffy has slept in the men's quarters. They didn't have a Captain's Quarters back then because there wasn't enough space but Luffy never cared because he hates sleeping alone.

When he was a kid, he always had Ace and Sabo to sleep with but after Ace left on his journey, Luffy had to sleep by himself and he hated how quiet and cold it was without them. Once he was finally able to travel with his crew, nothing made Luffy happier than being able to sleep with his friends again. Sometimes they even let him cuddle with them at night which is Luffy's favorite thing to do with the people he cares about. When Franky was building the Merry, he offered to build Luffy a captain's quarters but he denied saying that he'd rather sleep with his friends.

Then Law comes aboard after Punk Hazard and Luffy couldn't understand why he would never sleep in the men's quarters with him and instead chose to sleep on the deck in the cold. Law refuses to tell him and it drives Luffy crazy because he wants to cuddle with Law so bad. He tries to go on the deck and snuggle with Law but everytime he does, Law shambles him halfway across the ship with no explanation.

Their relationship progresses into something much different than what Luffy has with his crewmates and after much pestering, he finally gets Law to admit that the two-fold reason why he won't sleep with the rest of the men is that he often has nightmares from his dark past which embarrasses him and he also isn't part of their crew so sleeping with them would make it seem like he's accepting that he's no longer captain of his own ship and just one of their nakama like Luffy claims he us.

Luffy thinks this is ridiculous so he secretly has Franky build him that Captain's Quarters he offered before. Franky does, repurposing a random closet of junk into a small but perfect Captain's Quarters. On the night it's done, Luffy drags Law through the new door that suddenly appeared, shoving him on the bed, crawling in next to him, and wrapping his arms around him so tight that Law can't escape.

Law is not sure if he's most confused as to how this new bedroom just materialized seemingly out of thin air on the day they stopped at a supply island or why Strawhat is now alone in bed with him, nuzzling against his neck and holding him against his body. Luffy declares that it's the Captain's Quarters and he had Franky build it so they could have a room for just the two of them. That way Law doesn't have to worry about his nightmares or what anyone else thinks.

Law points out that it's still the Captain's Quarters and Luffy is the Captain and Luffy snaps back with "Well you're a Captain so that makes it your quarters too. It doesn't say which Captain it belongs to," and Law can't argue with that ridiculous but sound logic that only Luffy could come up with.

Law accepts his fate, relaxing in Luffy's arms, realizing that it's been so long since he was able to just curl up under the blankets with someone else. He feels all warm and fuzzy, not only because Luffy is like a space heater, but also because he realizes his alliance mate did all this just so he could have a space he feels comfortable at night. From that day on, he sleeps with Luffy in their room. It does mortify him when Strawhat tells other people that they sleep together every night but at that point, Luffy's already decided that they're dating and he knows there's nothing he can do.

After Law leaves the crew, the room remains and Luffy only uses it when Law comes to visit him, never allowing anyone else to sleep in 'Him and Torao's room'.

Luffy just wanted a room where he could fuck Law nasty so he has Franky build one and suddenly the Captain of the Thousand Sunny has his own personal sex dungeon for him and his boyfriend.

#LMAO the end i couldn't help myself #lawlu #lulaw #one piece lawlu #lawluffy #trafalgar law #monkey d luffy #one piece #law #luffy #lawlu headcanon #lawlu hc #asks #minni headcanons

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copperbadge · 2 days

Text

On Sunday, AS Roma had an away game against Udinese; I gave the game a miss because I had other stuff, but I thought I'd check the score after the game ended, only to find it was suspended in the 71st minute. One of the players, Evan Ndicka, had collapsed on the field while clutching his chest.

He's fine; he had to be taken to the hospital, but the injury appears to be from a collision with another player, not a cardiac event. It's always scary when a player falls like that regardless of the sport, but even the talking heads agree this was handled extremely well -- the fans fell silent so the EMTs could work, the coaches and captains agreed to suspend the game, and de Rossi, who is still very new to coaching at all let alone as head of a Serie A team, kept his wits about him, got the EMTs onto the field for Ndicka, and put his players first.

The most touching part of the whole narrative, however, isn't the good behavior of fans and staff or that the entire team all went to the hospital to see him -- it's that his inseparable best friend on the team, Houssem Aouar (on the left in the third picture), petitioned the hospital to be allowed to stay overnight with him. Request denied, but still a very sweet gesture.

[ID: Three images of Evan Ndicka, a center-back for Italian football team AS Roma; in the first he is being carried on a stretcher off the field, surrounded by teammates and medical staff, while in the second he is sitting up in a hospital bed, attached to monitors but with an upraised arm and a smile to show he's all right. The third image shows him in a black suit, entering a stadium before a game, sharing a friendly look with Houssem Aouar, midfielder for Roma.]

#as roma #evan ndicka #houssem aouar #serie a

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symbioticsimplicity · 2 days

Text

Don't think about Blitz swallowing back tears to appear angry as he asks Stolas what the fuck the point of keeping this deal up was if he was just looking for a chance to throw him away when he gives him the crystal. Don't think about the face Stolas would make. DEFINITELY don't think about Stolas finally losing his tight hold on his tongue and shouting at Blitz about how it isn't fair to either of them. For Blitz to be trapped by something he doesn't want, or for Stolas who just wants someone to love and value him. How he just wants to mean SOMETHING to SOMEONE so that he doesn't feel like the utter waste of space he's always been told he was. Don't think about him dropping to his knees sobbing or about him berating himself for still being pathetic. Don't think about the violent revelation that would be for Blitz, about how he would suddenly see himself in this man he's convinced himself couldn't be any more different from him.

Don't think about Blitz just standing there and staring for a long moment, before half tripping over himself to drop down and hug Stolas. Don't think about the broken way he'd try to tell him that he gets it, he really really does, but his care and his regard are toxic. Worse than having no one. Don't think about Stolas telling Blitz that his presence in his life has always been one of the only two things to ever make him genuinely happy. Or how Stolas could tell him Blitz's presence, even at its worst has helped him grow into himself in ways he never knew he could, but had always dreamed to.

Don't think about the immovable object of Blitz's disbelief being slammed against the unstoppable force of Stolas' genuine admiration. Don't think about the way hope might begin to blossom in Blitz's eyes or about the way that confidence could creep into Stolas' voice. Because this, this is something he can do, he knows how to talk, how to persuade, when he means it.

Don't think about Blitz putting every bit of obstinate stubbornness in his body toward convincing Stolas that that isn't true. Don't think about Blitz finally airing everything he he's done wrong to everyone he's ever wronged just to make sure Stolas knows he's trash. Knows he's not whoever Stolas has built him up to be in his mind.

Don't think about the horror in Blitz's eyes when Stolas goes still in his arms. How, for no more than a heart beat, Blitz is sure he's done it AGAIN and is already set to snuff that pathetic flicker of hope Stolas momenttarily awoke in him.

Don't think about Stolas's soft, kind voice telling him he doesn't care about that. How he isn't afraid of being hurt, he'd take pain over loneliness any day, and if Blitz hurts him, he will only ever come back for more and more so long as he cares enough to give him that pain.

Don't think about Blitz being both flattered and now terrified because what the actual fuck is wrong with Stolas, didn’t he JUST leave a relationship like that, he's too goddamn good to have to put up with that, didn’t he learn, doesn't he see?!

Don't think about Stolas looking at Blitz with heartfelt desperation, or Blitz looking at Stolas desperate heart feeling. Don't think about Blitz, who wants love more than anything, who wants to be chosen more than ANYTHING, absolutely trembling in the face of true devotion. He has no idea what to do with it, but his whole life has taught him to be opportunistic and he wants.

Don't think about him asking Stolas, one more time, so quietly he barely even sounds like himself "Me?"

Don't think about Stolas looking at him like he's the most glorious being in the cosmos, don't think about the reverence in his tone or the affection in his eyes as he tells Blitz that it's always been him. Don't think about Blitz trying not to cry and losing, settling for at least hugging Stolas so he can't see. The way the owl would wrap his entire body around him, finally finding exactly what he's been looking for and incomparably happy for it. Don't think about Blitz telling Stolas that it hasn't always been him, but that he's the first one he's ever chosen to come back to.

Just some things you shouldn't think about.

#stolitz #wow this really became a flash fic didn't it #whoopsie daisy!#helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva stolas

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starxanemone · 3 days

Text

꩜ⴰ ࣪˖ THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS

tighnari x gender neutral!reader — oneshot. romance.

if you read between the lines, colors, and shapes of the petals, perhaps you might find meaning conveyed to you through the language of flowers.

— wherein you are a secret admirer of tighnari and you decide to send him flowers and along with equally-flowery words.

Rukkhadhava Mushrooms? Check.

Kalpalata Lotus? Check.

Padisara? Check.

Scarab fluid? Check.

“Do you find all of the necessary ingredients to be satisfactory enough?” An employee asks Tighnari as he counts the number of each ingredient separated into containers on top of the table.

“Yes, thank you very much.” He responds busily.

“I wish you the best in your endeavors. I will be off now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Tighnari nods his head as his pencil drags off carefully against the page of his little notebook, crossing small boxes listed between the grid lines. Work was constant and even more so now as he feels its amount in waves lately with the sudden new virus spreading around due to the withering zones. Fortunately, only a few were infected and it is not taking too much of a toll on his body—with him balancing the role of being a Forest Watcher and a sort of doctor on the side.

He sighs as he closes his notebook shut and sits down on the chair. He looks around him, wide dark emerald eyes admiring the abundance of greenery inside Pardis Dhyai and taking in the cluster of herbal and floral fragrances between each soft inhale.

He then glances at the clock.

3:29AM. Any minute now–

“Delivery for Tighnari!” A deep, gravelly voice enters the vicinity and Tighnari immediately stands up to respectfully bow to the delivery man.

“Ah, Arkan.” Tighnari greets the tall, burly man right in front of him politely. There is a bundle of purple hugged between Arkan’s arms and he eyes it promptly; expectantly; disposition still even despite the slight anticipating twitch of his ear. “I assume that is for me.”

“Ya got that right.” Arkan agrees gruffly, extending his arm out to hand him the bouquet of vibrant purple Forget-Me-Not flowers. “Your lover’s been quite consistent.”

“Perhaps ‘admirer’ would be a more suitable term. I still don’t know who they are.” Tighnari shakes his head before glancing down at the flowers now in his arms. Its petals are the shade of mustard yellow at the center, transitioning to vibrant purple as he eyes the petals down to its rounded tips. He wonders what is their motive behind all of this. How was he to fall for a person whose identity he had no slightest idea of? It was unreasonable to fall for a figment of his imagination—the mere idea built from expectations of who this person might be.

But still, he keeps the flowers close to him. It stays displayed inside his home, consistently being replaced every week upon each delivery. So far, he had received a total of four flower deliveries, all appearing to be freshly-picked and very healthy.

I’m keeping them because it would be a waste not to. Tighnari nodded to himself.

“Well, then, I’ll leave you to think about it by yourself.” Arkan dips his head slightly for a temporary farewell. He would be seeing Tighnarini again soon, no doubt.

“Alright. Thank you for the delivery, Arkan.”

Tighnari sits down once again, placing the wrapped bouquet on his lap, supporting it with one arm. He counts the flowers and the snowy Gypsophila surrounding each small bundle of Forget-Me-Nots. He brings it up to his face, breathing in the floral fragrance before noticing a small piece of rectangular paper pasted onto the wrapping. His fingers gently move the flowers to read the text.

“What if you forget to forget-me-not and we fade away?”

A new piece added onto the puzzle of the admirer’s hidden painting. Clever. Forget-Me-Nots. Tighnari thinks back to the previous pieces of paper he had received along with the bouquets of flowers. So far, the compilation of all the notes reads:

“You can open up to me; show me what’s inside. Mother nature made us to intertwine.”

“Lavender elixir so full of pheromones, give me one taste and you’re gone.”

“What if I can’t get you out of my thoughts? What if my seasons don’t change?”

And today, “What if you forget to forget me not and we fade away?”

The admirer seems troubled today, Tighnari thinks, humming to himself in deep thought. Perhaps they liked him more than he had initially expected. He expected to be receiving about only two to three deliveries of such things, but it’s turning out to be more of a consistent thing now. Looking forward to Monday’s every time the clock strikes thirty minutes after the hour of three in the afternoon has become a sort of habit.

But he wonders: When would this end? When would he get to meet the individual who has been going through the effort to send these on a weekly basis?

Perhaps he must do a little bit of investigating for himself.

The next week comes slowly as the virus dies down significantly with Tighnari providing the patients with treatment. It has provided time for him to give some thought onto the next course of actions he might take to look for the admirer, and perhaps, the best person to ask first is the person consistently delivering the flowers.

Arkan comes marching to the front of Tighnari’s house at exactly 3:30PM, and he’s there to receive him just in time.

“Arkan, I have a question.” Tighnari began as he accepted the bouquet. Today’s flowers were a fresh bundle white Tropical Morning Glories wrapped in black paper. He fishes for the note stuck onto the wrapping paper behind the flowers and silently reads it.

“You’re my little flower blooming in the night.”

Blooming in the night... Morning Glories were also known as Moonflowers.

He purses his lip in thought as his ear unconsciously twitches. He scratches the back of his neck. Why are my ears warm? Perhaps it is hotter today than usual.

“What is it?”

He looks up from the bouquet and eyes Arkan curiously. “By any chance, do you know who’s sending these flowers?”

Arkan lets out a loud guffaw at his question, pressing his hands onto his abdomen. “I thought you’d never ask."

“It’s just that I was too busy to be pondering about that previously with the virus and all.” Tighnari places the flowers onto the ledge of his porch before crossing his arms. “So? Will you tell me who they might be?”

“No can do.” Arkan shakes his head.

He sighs. “As I suspected. Looking for them is not going to be as easy as that.”

“How ‘bout I give ya a hint?” Arkan places his hands on his hips, grinning down at him widely. “You know them.”

Tighnari squints his eyes.

He knows them.

He browses his memories for the list of people that he knew but it was turning out to be rather difficult when he was practically familiar with more than half of Gandharva Ville and many from Sumeru City. It cannot possibly be Collei; she is much too young and she has been quite close with a boy her age lately that lived near their home. Cyno was way too subpar with his linguistic skills to be able to construct mellifluous words such as these, and it is apparent with his dry jokes, thus it is unlikely to be him. Paimon and the Traveler on the other hand had long left the vicinity of Sumeru. And Alhaitham… Well, he’s Alhaitham. Could it be Kaveh?

“Do they live closeby?” Tighnari asks after a few moments of thinking.

“They live in a sort of paradise. Sort of like a garden, if you will. That’s all I gotta say.” Arkan laughs before saluting to him. “Welp, I’ll leave ya to it.”

So it’s not Kaveh, then. Thank goodness. Tighnari breathes out a sigh of relief before taking the flowers from the ledge once again. He must quickly put them in a vase.

Another week comes and Tighnari is finished trekking through the forest with Cyno after dealing with one of the few remaining Withering Zones left.

“So you have been receiving a bouquet of flowers every week.” Cyno summarizes after Tighnari explains the entirety of the situation. “I see.”

“Yes, so if it is not any trouble and if you aren’t busy with work, would you mind helping me investigate this matter?” Tighnari tilts his head, waiting for his friend’s response.

“I’m afraid that I must refuse.” Cyno answers, quickly pulling his eyes away to look up at the nearby trees.

“Hm? And why is that?” Tighnari crosses his arms. “You are looking suspicious right now, my friend. Don’t tell me that you’re actually the secret admirer?”

Cyno sends him an offended look, or at least, as offended as his typically-stoic face could look. “Do I appear to be the type who writes poetry? I must say that my jokes are quite great, but poetry on the other hand?”

“Yes, it is exactly as I thought. Except for the jokes part.” Tighnari nods, ignoring the second wave of offended expression that paints his friend’s face. “But why were you acting suspicious just now? Perhaps… you know who they are. You know who has been sending the flowers to me.”

Cyno shakes his head. “It’s not that I knew. I only figured it out when you told me about the flowers just now.”

“How?”

“Easy. I suggested the flowers, or rather, I told them you liked plants, and maybe, flowers.” Cyno explains before suddenly looking thoughtful. “But now that I think about it. The notes do sound like something they would do.” He hums thoughtfully. "Hm... they even went all the way to Sumeru City to ask about something like that."

“Well? Are you not going to tell me who it is?”

“No.”

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his face in annoyance. This was becoming more frustrating with the way Arkan and Cyno were being so secretive.

Cyno pats his shoulder comfortingly. “You will find out who they are soon.”

“Why? Will they reveal themselves?”

“I do not know. But upon meeting them, it is only time before they slip up. They’re not as patient as you believe they are.”

“Yes, maybe…”

Tighnari receives three stems of Tulips today, tied together with a thin white ribbon that also holds a piece of paper along with it. His eyes squinted a little upon realizing that the texts today were a bit longer, and the handwriting was a bit messier.

Hm… Tulips…

“All I see are Tulips (you) and

I’m a hummingbird;

Heavenly ambrosia in every curve.

Honey dripping over my imagination;

The fragrance keeps flowing straight

down to my soul.”

He doesn’t hold back the warmth that spreads across his light-skinned cheeks and tips of his ears—or rather, he couldn’t. Whoever was writing him these notes and sending these flowers seemed to know just the precise words to make a person’s heart quiver. That, or this was simply born from the inexplicable feeling of adoration; one that Tighnari himself still doesn’t understand.

Perhaps, you would care to show him—to make him understand where all of these saccharine poems flow from inside you and onto paper.

He flips the paper around and is surprised to see an added note.

“I heard you were looking for me. Why don’t you come and find me, then?” He looks down further at the bottom of the page. “Here’s a hint: I live in paradise.”

Paradise? Tighnari squints rubs his chin at the familiar word. Where and when could he have last heard it?

Paradise… Ah! His eyes widen as he remembers his conversation with Arkan about two or three weeks before.

“They live in a sort of paradise. Sort of like a garden, if you will. That’s all I gotta say.” Arkan laughs before saluting to him. “Welp, I’ll leave ya to it.”

Paradise… Paradise— Pardis? Pardis Dhyai? If his suspicions were correct then… then the admirer was much closer than he had initially suspected. He had assumed that they lived in Sumeru City due to the weekly access to new and foreign flowers being delivered there frequently. This had caused him to forget about Pardis Dhyai completely—the actual grounds for producing an array of different plants and flowers.

He set the flowers into a vase filled with water and began preparing to clean up his things. Turns out that he had a trip to make towards Pardis Dhyai outside of work hours.

Tighnari arrives at the vicinity as the Sun had already set, leaving the shrounds of orange to be submerged underneath the dark blues littered with specs of white. Strange to him as it may be, but his heart is racing fast against his ribs as he takes rapid steps to enter the greenhouse. Perhaps it may be from all the running, or maybe it was the nerves swallowing his being, but one thing is for sure and that is the fact that his curiosity and the need to understand cannot deter him from finding out the one behind all these things.

He enters the greenhouse and the silence engulfs his ears aside from the crickets resounding from the distance. He steps forward, moving to the area where the flowers were born side by side, and there, he sees someone standing there, tending to the plants at this hour.

“You’re my little flower

Blooming in the night…”

His eyes widen as hears them sing softly as they hold the watering can over the vibrant leaves and petals.

“Only for an hour,

The northern lights.

My Casablanca sweetheart,

Nectar so divine.

Baby, you’re the best part

Of my life.”

“So it is you.” Tighnari’s voice cuts through the pause of their singing. He sees their shoulders jolt a little in surprise before they turn around slowly, sheepishly. It was you, the employee in Pardis Dhyai who guided him throughout each time he collected ingredients for new medicine.

“So you have found me.” Your smile is relaxed as you take a step towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He shivers at the contact but doesn’t move away, causing you to chuckle. “Shall we have a chat?”

“W-What makes you say that I have the time? I could be here for some herbs.” He blurts out, a little out of character from his typical self.

You chuckle at his nervousness. “Well? What can I do to convince you to stay?”

#SoundCloud #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #tighnari #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #fanfiction #genshin fanfiction #sumeru #genshin cyno #tighnari fluff #gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader

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freya-fallen · 3 days

Text

Sinners and Saints

TW: blood

GN reader×Yandere Alastor

Alastor had no way of knowing the precious commodity he would find when he stepped out that day. It was Hell, after all, full of sinners of all scores. There were lechers and gamblers, adulterers, murderers, cannibals… The usual scattering masses followed his wake, screams, hushed tones, and all. He was a frightening creature in Hell. Even other Overlords stepped carefully around him; after all, he was known to trap prey larger than most his size could swallow.

Thus, when he heard the shrieks, the cries coming from a secluded little lakeside region, he was hardly surprised. They were lovely and full of abject terror with an edge of pain. Whoever it was sounded something like his victims, until he heard the begging break through.

“Why are you doing this to me? Please, please—”

The pleading, the questioning, those things happened, but were of a different flavor. There was rarely a “why me” since sinners all knew: the weak survived at the whim of the strong. “Why me?” Why not.

So the demon detoured to see who was making such a ruckus.

There was a large, rather dumb-looking demon of the sort he usually dismissed and they were leering over the smaller frame of someone shrinking in on themself.

This being had no hint of what had caused their demise, a rarity in Hell. They retained purely human, normal features. There was nary a hint of sin about them, their scent in the air a sharp contrast to the putrid fumes of the netherworld. Instead, there was something light, fresh, lovely about them despite the sharp tinge of terror. And rather than a certain tightness around the eyes, a darkness of character, they were almost… luminescent.

In the split second Alastor happened upon the lesser demon and his prey, he realized this was a soul that did not belong in Hell.

The lovely little morsel cowering on the ground screamed as claws rent through their clothes and into their flesh. The iron tang of blood cloyed the air. Alastor’s nose twitched. His fingers flexed. What he was about to do was quite uncharacteristic of him.

“What have we here?”

The other demon froze, undoubtedly familiar with that crackling voice. He glanced back, eyes wide in the shadow of his horns. “I, uh, I…”

Alastor stepped forward and extended a hand toward the huddled little saint. “This is no mere sinner to torment. Go.” He didn’t even have to look at the other demon; it fled without thought. “You poor soul. Where have you been hiding?”

You looked up with the most pathetically grateful eyes, tears still spilling over. “I don’t know where we are.”

“No?” Alastor lifted a brow, but was unsurprised. “How did you come here?”

‘I just woke up and…” you gestured around vaguely. “I don’t know what’s going on. That thing just– just attacked me and–” You broke off with a choked sob. You didn’t understand. You’d gone to bed last night in your room as usual and when you came to, you were in this nightmare that was far too real.

“My dear.” He paused and stared down at your baleful expression as though he could bore through to your soul. “You’re in Hell.”

You blinked, frowned. “What?”

“This is Hell and that monstrous beast was a demon bent on eating your soul.” He gave a gallic shrug. “One such as you, who must be an innocent mistakenly sent down for some small slight against Heaven, has no hope of surviving, I’m afraid.”

You sat up straighter, clasping your hands to beg. “But you saved me from him. What can I do–”

“You can do nothing.” He rolled his microphone staff in his fingers. “You are weak, I can sense it. You have no weapons at your disposal.” You sank back into yourself. “However, I might be persuaded to act as a protector.”

A shrewd twinkle appeared in your eyes and he found himself baring teeth in a smile. So you weren’t stupid, that much was clear. “Why?”

“Because you’re interesting.” He tipped his head and watched you consider.

“Are you a demon, too?” Oh, you were delightful.

His teeth glinted in the twilight. “My dear, we’re all demons here.”

“You’re not supposed to make deals with devils,” you insisted.

“Do you see another option?” He could go back and forth all day, but in the end he would get what he wanted.

You tapped your fingers against your leg. “Are you going to devour my soul or something?”

“The terms will be quite simple: you obey me and I protect you from any who might harm you.” He twirled his microphone again, nonchalant as could be.

“I won’t kill anyone or anything like that,” you insisted.

His smile widened. “I will ask nothing of you that is not in line with what you did while living.” And, oh, would he scour the book of your sins to find your absolute worst.

You thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

“Do we have a deal?” Alstor held out one gloved hand.

You swallowed through your fluttering heartbeat. “I’m probably going to regret this.” You extended your palm to his.

Thunder clapped and lightening crackled the air as your fate was sealed.

Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list for any followups

#darkfic #yandere #hazbin hotel #alastor #yandere imagines #yandere alastor #ace alastor #reader #alastor × reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #obsessive thinking

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millportdingo · 16 hours

Text

TSC Motifs/Themes/Whatever

Dogs

Starved dog, leash metaphors, cardboard dog, obedience. I think Jean represented as an obedient, loyal dog is pretty straight-forward. I think it's interesting that in the extra content, Nora described him as an angry cat when he came to Evermore. He left as a starved and beaten dog. I wonder where this arc goes, though. Like, he takes a chain around his neck from Renee -per Neil's philosophy, is this "collar" his first reason not to slip the [Moriyama investment] leash? Also Jeremy has always wanted a dog. I guess this piece is a little harder for me to wrap my head around, maybe I'm overthinking it, but maybe he's the right kind of [s]Dom[/s] [s]owner[/s] person for Jean. He has the authority "I'm your captain," but he pairs it with an equalizer "I'm your partner". He pushes Jean, but he holds the hard boundaries. He's intrigued by Jean's scoop neck deep blue shirt - I think partly for the personal growth to wear color and partly because it allows him to see Jean's collarbone. He shivers with the sound of "Yes, Jeremy." I wonder if "my mom is allergic to dogs" is foreshadowing his family's reaction to Jean.

2. Safety

Neil's arc was about hope, finding a future in a futureless situation. Jeremy's had an idea of the future, the perfect court, but his big thing is safety. "Safe" and its variations appear in TSC 48 times. This boy is really not asking for much, but Jeremy makes him feel safer which is just too sweet. Also, tighten those screws for safety..

3. Childhood

At the beginning of the book, Jean knows immediately that he is not in the Nest, because he knows every inch of it. He feels like he knows everything about the world and he often insults people by calling them children. His childhood innocence was stolen from him at the Nest, and outside of it, he regains pieces of it. He wonders at the vastness of the world, he learns skills he never had before (shopping, cooking). I had a hard time when I found out he was 19 (ie 14 and 16 at the time of some really unpleasant things). I didn't understand why he had to be two years younger. But the protection and corruption of innocence is a big part of his story. We see that acutely with his sister's story and it allows him to turn on his parents without guilt. The duck/duckling motif is cute too. When he first comes to Evermore, Thea describes him as a little duckling. He associates little yellow ducks with his childhood and baby sister.

4. Air?

Being able to breathe is core to the safety thing. When Jean feels least safe, he can't breathe. One of his earliest revelations about being Riko's pet was the buried alive punishment, and pressing his face against the sparse airholes. Then there's the waterboarding thing. You'll see Jean mentions being unable to breathe when he feels threatened and grabs at his throat. Conversely his happy things include breeze and open sky (rainbow and the open road). When Grayson appears, Jean says he can no longer feel the breeze, and he is particularly disturbed by the neck biting. There are lots of throat and neck things going on in the book too and maybe it's a stretch but burning (ie eating away at oxygen) comes up several times too.

#ngl i hate when people say nora's not a great writer #like she gave you this masterpiece for literally less than 1 dollar #so shuddafakkup #the sunshine court #tsc spoilers #tsc #nora sakavic #all for the game #aftg #tsc meta #jean moreau #jeremy knox

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eff4freddie · 3 days

Text

Touch | Part Three

Of bar fights and ice blocks

Words: 4.3k

Part One | Part Two

Warnings: slow burn to the point we might just be embers, eventual smut but next chapter I promise, teeny bit of blood, quite a lot of masculine nonsense, Joel is hot but remains grumpy

When you were in eighth grade you fell madly in love with Johnny Hocart. He was a theatre kid, wildly charismatic for a 14 year old boy, and smart enough to recognise that you had a crush on him and use you for it. You’d signed up to help out with the school play that year, Johnny being the lead in Death of a Salesman the only motivation for your sudden interest in the arts, and he turned you into his roadie almost immediately. You used your own money to fetch him chocolate from the vending machine, you carried his water bottle around behind him on the off chance he might be thirsty. The afternoon you applied his eyeliner for him, on tippy toes and terrified to topple over and take his eye out in the process, fuelled your first fumbled attempt at an orgasm (you wouldn’t get it right until eleventh grade, but you had fun figuring it out). He made you feel something heavy and relentless and heated in your chest, something that unfurled its wings and beat against your rib cage when he walked into view. The little shit let you dote on him hand and foot right up until the wrap party when he stuck his hand up Donna D’Marco’s skirt and spent the rest of the year bragging about it. You were crushed by it, the weight of the humiliation heavy on your shoulders, slumping you forward and folding you into yourself. You vowed to never forget it. But you had, until you met Joel.

Sitting in the mess hall you wondered what happened to Johnny Hocart on outbreak day. You liked the idea that he hadn’t died immediately, that he’d lived in fear for a few months before getting shot by a raider, or maybe that he’d been traded to a slaver and collapsed one day from exhaustion, from malnutrition. You hated to think of him as a clicker, because even though he was a dick no one deserved that, but at the same time you liked the kind of dramatic irony of him as a bloater, overblown as his ego had been.

You chewed your sandwich, one eye on the door, waiting for Marla and definitely not waiting for Joel. You thought instead about the clients you had booked in for the afternoon, and how you were going to finally sort out Peter Fletcher’s tennis elbow so that he could comfortably hold his rifle, and why didn’t they call it rifle elbow since that sounded so much cooler, and you considered all of this while you kept your head down, and very purposefully didn’t think about the hazel flecks in Joel’s eyes as he gazed up at you, one hand cupping and lifting his muscle while you stood square between his knees.

He’d been grumpy and dismissive, you reminded yourself, and the minute he’d felt some relief he had just up and left. You conveniently forgot the part where you had essentially ushered him out the door, suddenly keen to exorcise your living space of him. You weren’t even sure exactly what that was about, except that you had felt the first flutterings of a wing against your ribs, had recognised the feeling as something dangerous and done your best to quash it.

You were contemplating this when a shadow appeared at your table, and you startled.

‘Shit, sorry, just me,’ Ray said, and you craned your neck up to regard him. ‘Can I?’ he asked, pulling at the chair opposite you, and you nodded while you tried to calm your heart. You could see something was up.

‘You ok?’ you asked, when he was finished apologising.

‘Me and my stupid glorious brain,’ he said, and you were tempted not to let him go on any further. ‘I intercepted a message that read like it was raiders, something about a big stash, an old pharmacy that hadn’t been hit yet. Coordinates, too.’

‘That’s great,’ you said, watching his face carefully, studying the lines across his forehead, his furrowed brow, decoding Jackson’s best decoder. ‘It’s not great,’ you concluded.

‘They called in a bunch of patrols to go check it out,’ he said, and suddenly you imagined Joel on the back of a horse, leaning to the left to try and protect his right side, gun strapped to his back and his neck muscles straining under the ache of it. You grimaced. ‘Marla’s was one of them,’ Ray finished, oblivious to your sudden turmoil.

It was a poorly kept secret that Ray was in love with Marla. Poorly kept in that the only person who didn’t seem to know was her. You suspected Ray would have happily stayed put in Chicago were it not for Marla going arse over tit for the idea of living on a ranch. She had barely had to convince him to come with you both, such that he had offered to trade and borrow to get the supplies you’d need, parting with his mother’s wedding ring that he wore on a chain around his neck in the process. You weren’t even sure if Marla noticed, as it had been lost in the service of gaining three passable sleeping bags, and Marla had wrapped her arms around Ray’s neck and kissed behind his ear when he presented them to you, and you had seen in that moment that for Ray it had been enough.

You could tell Jackson hadn’t been what he expected, not least of all now having to share Marla with an entire town.

‘Ray, you did a good thing,’ you said, reaching out and putting your hand on his bicep. He nodded his head, slowly.

‘You heading to the Bison tonight?’ he asked, and you scrambled quickly to come up with an excuse.

‘I was going to check on Maria,’ you replied, grateful for your guilt reminding you that you’d still not caught up with her. ‘It’s been a while since I saw her, and she’s due soon-ish I think. I was going to take her some dinner.’

He looked at you, his mouth downturned and his brows saddled over his eyes, and you felt yourself retracting from his sadness, from his regret. Johnny Hocart had painted your face in similar colours.

‘Yeah, ok,’ you said. You tried hard not to show on your face that the idea was making your skeleton want to crawl out of your mouth and try its luck on the road. But you could see Ray was struggling, that he was bouncing his leg up and down under the table. ‘Marla’s a fighter,’ you said. He looked at you for a long moment, then nodded his head.

‘Bison. Tonight,’ he said, with finality.

You didn’t ask if he knew who else was going on the expedition. You reminded yourself you didn’t care, taking a big swig of water to drown the butterflies.

—

Propped up at a table off to the side, you had a clear view of the bar on your right and the door on your left. You were sitting with Ray and his friend that you didn’t know, and you were trying to participate in conversation but your guts were churning. As much as you wanted to stay in the moment, you couldn’t stop yourself scanning the crowd for threats. Someone smashed a glass over by the jukebox and you felt yourself startle, nearly knocking your own drink off the table. Over by the bar Chloe Bennett, owner of lumbar back problems and occasional sciatica, demonstrated how much her yelping laugh sounded like a woman being stabbed to death with her own stiletto, and you wanted very much to push your chair back and leg it, but Ray kept glancing at you to check you were ok, and his friend Simon seemed quite nice generally speaking, and if nothing else you might be able to drum up some more business out of him.

‘So you don’t charge anything?’ Simon was asking. Simon and Ray worked the radio together most days, Ray listening in to the white noise for any sign of covert communication, and Simon dutifully twisting the knobs beside him. Some part of you registered that he was conventionally attractive, and you wondered if the way he was leaning in to you as you chatted was what passed for flirting in an apocalypse, but also you were watching Ray scanning for Marla, trying to telepathically tell him it would be ok.

‘I mean, we don’t have money,’ you answered Simon.

‘You don’t barter then?’

‘I’m grateful to be here. My home is payment. My safety is payment.’

‘I don’t buy it,’ he said, and he was grinning and you knew that it was playful, but also you felt a wrinkle of frustration in the folds of your skin.

‘You don’t agree?’ Simon shrugged at you in response, and for a reason still not clear to you it made you want to slap him a little bit. You turned to Ray for help, but Ray was looking at the door, and when you looked too you saw Tommy and Joel had just walked in.

‘Fuck,’ Ray said, and you scanned his face for anxiety but found only awe. ‘They are so cool.’

Simon nodded in agreement, and you scoffed in surprise.

‘Are they?’ you asked, and your companions turned to you, confused, and Ray even slightly betrayed.

‘Tommy basically keeps this place going, him and Maria,’ Simon informed you as if this was news.

‘Peak Mama and Daddy Jackson,’ Ray chimed in.

‘Joel. He’s just…’ All three of you turned to watch him approach the bar, nodding to the bartender, who had started pouring him a whiskey the moment he walked in, and slid it over to him.

You weren’t sure how you wanted Simon to finish that sentence. Your eyes kept being drawn to Joel, the broadness of him, the salt and pepper in his hair in stark contrast to his strength, the power under his muscles and behind his eyes. You felt warm in your palms where you had held him, flexed your fingers to try and get the heat out.

You let the conversation move on without you, staring down at your drink, tracing the droplets of condensation first from the body of the glass and then down to the tabletop. If you hadn’t rushed him out would he have let you keep massaging him? Would you have peeled his shirt from his body and explored the planes of his skin? You wiped the water away before it could damage the wood.

‘They’re heading out tomorrow, first light,’ you heard Ray saying, and suddenly your attention snapped back to the present. ‘So I want to be on the radio early, before they go. See if we can find the signal again, make sure the raiders aren’t going in first.’

‘You said you thought they were further out,’ Simon pointed out. ‘That it was bouncing off the mountain.’

‘I know but we’re a day behind.’

‘That’s a lot of ground to cover.’

‘Not on horseback,’ Ray reasoned.

‘We don’t know if they have horses,’ Simon replied. He held his hands palm up on the table, in appeasement, you realised.

‘We don’t know that they don’t, either. We’re sending seven of our people out there…’ your stomach lurched at seven, and your eyes flicked again to Tommy and Joel, and you wondered if tonight was last drinks for them, not knowing if they would both make it back, a time for two brothers to come together before heading back into war. ‘…including Marla, and I just want to-‘

‘What does Marla have to do with it?’ Simon asked, and you decided then he was either an idiot or heartless, and neither option was preferable. You exhaled slowly through your teeth, and watched Ray for his reaction, and wondered if either of them would notice if you just slipped away into the crowd.

You watched Ray gather himself. ‘Marla is a good shot,’ he said, eventually.

You could feel Simon preparing to argue but suddenly there was yelling, actual yelling not imaginary traumatised-by-the-end-of-the-world yelling, and all three of you turned to the bar.

Jacob and another man you didn’t recognise were standing at the other end of the bar, pointing fingers at Joel and Tommy. Joel had already stepped around his little brother, squaring off with them, and you could see that his body was braced, a tightly wound spring in a flannel shirt and jeans. You picked your glass up off the table and cradled it to your chest, as if that would solve it.

You didn’t know Jacob. He was one of the men who had already decided he didn’t own muscles, or feel pain. You knew that he was younger than the men he was squaring off with, that he was full of bravado and empty of brains, the type to shoot first and think later, and it wasn’t lost on you that back in the day he would have made the type of cop that was the subject of several enquires and a few unflattering news items, who would have been shunted off to be the deputy of a shithole town that’s biggest crime wave was when a couple of cookbooks went missing from the local library, a town that he nevertheless tortured until he retired.

Jacob was currently yelling so hard spittle was flying across the bar, and you could make out the carotid artery along his red neck.

‘All well and good for you two,’ he was saying. ‘Sitting back while the real men go out and defend this town.’ Joel was moving forward towards him, despite Tommy pulling on his sleeve to bring him back, and everyone in the bar was now frozen, watching. Jacob continued, because he was as dumb as he was hateful. ‘Oh I’m on the fucking town council, that means I get to decide who lives and who dies without having to put my own arse on the line. Fuckin’ weak, pathetic-‘

‘Lower your voice,’ Joel said, completely calm and also utterly terrifying. Jacob laughed, actually laughed, in Joel’s face.

‘Fuck off old man,’ he spat, taking another step towards Joel, who wouldn’t back down. ‘You don’t get a say either, ridin your little brother’s dick all the way to retirement.’

‘It’s men and women,’ Joel continued, undeterred and still deathly calm. One afternoon on the road you’d come across a snake on the path, big and brown and poised with its head up, watching you. It had taken you ten minutes to back away from it, so sure it was about to lunge. Watching Joel now, inching forward towards Jacob, you had the same feeling. Jacob wasn’t following Joel, made too stupid by his misplaced entitlement, his anger and his impotent fury. ‘We are sending the real men and women to defend this town, and Tommy and I’ll be here to keep it safe while you’re gone.’

You exhaled for the first time all day, the tension you didn’t even know you were carrying with you suddenly releasing. But Jacob was more angry now, and Tommy was backing up Joel and squaring off too, and you felt the heat in the room ratchet up.

‘I’m having a baby, you fuck,’ Tommy said, and Joel raised his hand to calm him. Tommy immediately settled back behind his bigger brother.

‘Not to say we ain’t grateful,’ Joel continued, but Jacob had noticed that the whole bar was watching, that Joel was about to talk him out of an argument, that he was about to be alpha’d by a man twice his age. He took three steps forward toward Joel, who had already reached back to push Tommy out of the way, and Jacob’s arm was swinging just a fraction slower than Joel’s, who clocked the younger man hard in the jaw and sent him spinning, landing hard on the top of the bar and shattering glasses and bottles underneath him. He was only down for a second before he was back up and swinging, landing a blow on Joel’s eye socket before he and Tommy had him by the back of the collar. You realised you had stood up and had moved towards them only when you were close enough to hear Joel grunt ‘a fuckin bar fight, really? You that fuckin clichè?’

Jacob just grunted, his airway constricted by his shirt that Joel was now using as a vice, and even in the middle of the violence you could see he was careful not to compress harder than he needed to, holding him sturdy but without gripping so hard as to injure.

The four men headed for the door, Joel pushing Jacob through first and then following, using the momentum to swing the younger man out and down the stairs and into the dirt below. His friend rushed to him, pulling him up and away, and as you followed them out you heard Jacob spitting threats of his return. Joel was puffed, leant against the railing to catch his breath. He turned to his brother, checked on him, and then to you, where his eyebrows shot up and you realised he was seeing you only now. Your breath caught in your throat. You had no idea what you were doing there, either.

‘You’re hurt,’ you said after a moment, gesturing to his fist. You could see a scrape of blood pooling on the knuckle.

‘Ain’t broken,’ he said. Turning to Tommy he more or less ignored you. ‘You ok?’ he asked. Tommy nodded, before he also nodded to Joel’s fist.

‘Take him to ours,’ he said to you. ‘We got ice in the freezer. Time to work some more miracles.’

You were alarmed, pretty much constantly, but especially so when Tommy turned back to go inside.

‘You’re not coming?’ you asked, and you hated that your panic had carried through into your voice.

‘Gotta make it right here,’ he said, without turning around.

—

The walk to Maria’s was three minutes at most and still you would have flayed your own skin clean off not to have to do it. You could feel the wings now, beating hard against your rib cage, and you swallowed only to taste acid on the back of your tongue. Joel was silent, but it was the type of silence that belies being pissed off, a general curmudgeon-ing, that set you on edge.

You thought again back to your teacher. When the clients in pain, keep them talking.

‘How’s the shoulder?’ you asked, into the darkness in front of you instead of looking at Joel’s face.

‘Thought it wasn’t my shoulder,’ he said, and it took a second for you to realise he was teasing you, not goading. ‘S’ok, I hear it’s all connected,’ he pretend to console you, and you squawked out a surprised laugh, wondering if you’d ever, up until this moment, made a sound like that before.

At no point had you considered that Joel Miller could be funny. Now, though, you discovered you had even less of an idea of how to talk to him.

‘You’re not going out on the run?’ you asked, and you hoped not to sound too relieved, too hopeful.

‘Got things to look out for at home,’ he said, and you stayed quiet in the hope that he would keep talking. ‘Ellie and me, we had a rough time of it…she’s been quiet. Thought best to…’ he trailed off.

‘Maria said you went to Salt Lake?’ you asked, and because you were still unable to look at him you didn’t see him flinch. ‘Why did you have to go there?’ you continued on.

‘Didn’t realise Maria liked to gossip so much,’ he said, and you heard it then, the hardness of it.

You rushed to defend her. ‘I was just curious,’ you started, and Joel stopped you, stopped walking altogether. You turned back to him.

‘Dangerous thing,’ he said, and you wanted to tell him that you knew that, that you weren’t normally like that, that you were clever and you had survived this long because if it, but he was already turning up the path to Maria and Tommy’s place, and all you could do was trail behind him, like a fucking lap dog, worried he’d lock you out if you took too long to get inside.

From the couch Maria called for Tommy, and when Joel responded she pulled herself up to stand. You were surprised by how big she’d gotten, trying to remember the last time you’d seen a pregnant woman. Let alone a pregnant woman about to pop.

‘I know, I’m huge,’ she said, when she saw you staring and you snapped your eyes back to her face.

‘Radiant,’ you said, and she snorted.

‘Thank you for lying,’ she replied, and you felt the warmth of genuine affection between the two of you, thought for a moment of sunshine on your skin, of your sister.

‘Tommy said you had ice,’ Joel cut in, and Maria noticed Joel’s hand, her face hardening.

‘They started it,’ Joel said, and you nodded behind him to confirm that this was indeed true. You saw the suspicion in her eyes, the way she was careful with him, and you stepped forward, taking his elbow.

‘I’ll sort it,’ you said, smiling with what you hoped was confidence. Joel looked down at your hand on his arm, then up to your face, where you ignored his obvious indignation at being herded like a child. ‘On we go,’ you said, feeling like a deranged grade school teacher, trying to get her class of unruly six year olds through to 3 pm unscathed. You didn’t see the bemused look on Maria’s face as you pushed Joel down the hallway, but you wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.

Once again you found yourself crammed into a kitchen with Joel. Sitting him at the table you put some ice in a cloth then plopped down into the chair beside him and held out your hand. He stared at you, unmoving.

‘I can do this,’ he said, and you were tired then, having dealt with quite a lot of male bullshit in just the last two hours, and so you groaned and pulled his hand to you, holding him firm by the wrist lest he try and patriarchy his way out again.

‘I can do it better,’ you said simply, and he huffed out a laugh.

‘Now that I don’t deny,’ he said, and it was quiet, just barely muttered between the two of you, and when you looked up into his eyes you found that they were crinkled with something like amusement, something like affection.

You looked down, flexed his fingers for him, heard him hold his breath when you inspected the knuckle.

‘They teach you this in school, too?’ he asked, and you heard again that he was ribbing you. You decided it was a good sign.

‘No this is purely growing up with a daredevil older sister,’ you replied.

‘Family resemblance, then,’ he replied and you looked up at him sharply, angry for a second that he was calling you meek, that he was deriding you for a perfectly normal reaction to the collapse of society, but you saw nothing on his face that belied any aggression. If anything, you saw warmth.

‘This sore?’ you asked, just gently wresting a fingertip on the bone. His hands were big, with thick and powerful fingers, and you were doing your absolute best not to consider what they could do to you, if you let them.

‘S’alright,’ he murmured. For a moment you saw outside yourself, watched you hunched over inspecting the paw of a lion, a little mouse reaching in to extract a thorn.

‘Here?’ you said, hushed under the light of Maria’s kitchen. You pressed down slightly, on exactly the same spot, and heard his breath stutter. You realised the makeshift ice pack was too bulky to fit between his knuckles, so you opened it and took a block out, resolutely not looking up into his face.

‘Tell me if this is too cold,’ you said, holding the block between your fingers and running it gently over his skin.

‘Mmhmm,’ he hummed, gently. You kept the ice moving, your eyes watching his hand for any sign of a tremble, but he stayed resolute under your touch.

The heat of his skin started to melt it, cold water running down and snaking under his palm, between his fingers. It washed away the blood, so that you could see only scratches, surface abrasions, from where knuckle met jaw. You watched the pink of it, mixing with the water, little rivers of something precious, something Joel. You were aware only of your finger tips, the push of wings against your chest present but forgotten, as you witnessed him, his essence. As you gazed down on the thing that made him, that kept him, the life in his veins. As the block melted down to just a wafer, as it healed, sealed over the hurt, you lifted it to your mouth to taste it, wanting the iron and the tang of it, the sharpness of the cold mixed with the heat of him, of your open mouth.

You heard his breath hitch. Your eyes flew open, not having realised you’d closed them, and landed on his face, where you gasped when you saw the look of pure wanting, of pure desire, painted pink and red over his features. You dropped his hand in your panic, your face burning, your legs moving before your brain had even taken a moment to collect itself.

‘Thanks Maria I gotta go think Joel will be fine I hope you’re ok will drop some food around you’re the most beautiful pregnant lady I’ve ever seen take care bye’ you vomited, gathering your coat tight around your shoulders and wanting but not wanting, terrified but hoping, to hear footsteps down the hall behind you. You wrenched the door open, felt the welcome rush of cool on your face, already halfway down the porch before you heard it slam shut behind you.

You sprinted, shuffling over ice but not slowing, back to your home. As you went you followed the wall, wondering how it could have made you feel safe now that you were trapped behind it, wondering how you could possibly live with the snake poised to lunge at you, how you could outrun it when it had taken up home inside your belly, beside your breath.

Tag list (just learned what these are, lemme know if you want me to add you)

@orcasoul

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou

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celestiaras · 16 hours

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ making a run for it ]❜

ft. mysta rias, ike eveland, vox akuma, shu yamino, luca kaneshiro (separate) x gn! reader — luxiem, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ how difficult is it to escape from them?┊3k words

contains: yandere!! obsessive & possessive behavior, kidnapping & isolation, chains, mention of death, delusions, forced physical affection, overuse of the word “love”, overprotectiveness, probably inaccurate vox lore, possibly ooc, not proofread or beta-read, this is a train wreak of sewn together thoughts

➤ author's note: the image quality is so bad ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ i don’t watch luxiem that much and don’t really write for them as a result, but that should change because they are cuties

you lost track long ago of how many days it’s been since you’ve been captured, morning and night blurring together since your enclosure had no windows— it must have been nearly a year since you remember him saying something about your first anniversary coming up. the cold metal cuff around your ankle was just as heavy as when it was first fastened, the chain just long enough for you to reach the corners of the room and the bathroom while being fastened to the leg of his bed. you had every inch of it memorized and explored: the books were worn from being read so many times, the area was spotless without a speck of dust because you kept cleaning the place up, and the most excitement you ever got was from another movie getting added to the streaming service on the television since he didn’t let you have any access to the internet.

just like a bird in a cage, you’ve been locked away and isolated for only your captor’s eyes at night when he comes home from his daily activities. you no longer had any other purpose in the world than to be his to adore and admire, to spoil with material gifts that couldn’t fill the empty hole in your heart, and to be the object of his delusions that you feel the same. the thought of remaining here for the rest of your life as his ‘lover” made you shudder and feel sick to your stomach, a thought that you simply couldn’t get used to even though all hope seemed to be lost. you missed your family and friends dearly, already beginning to forget their faces and the sound of their laughter to your horror. you had to escape somehow no matter what the cost may be, preferably alive and fully intact, but you had no idea if their love for you would be greater than their rage when they found you missing.

━━━ .°˖✧ mysta rias ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ once you had a general idea of what you do, you were a bit hesitant to put it in motion since you didn’t have the specifics in mind and terrified that it would all go wrong with how flimsy it was, but you would never be able to leave if you didn’t take courage. however, if you knew that it would have been so easy and that everything went exactly as you planned, you would have done it ages ago. you couldn’t describe the euphoria you felt when the warm rays of the sun kissed your skin and the gentle breeze welcomed you to the outdoors, practically skipping off to make your long-awaited escape. truly, you were a fool to think it would have been so simple when you were up against a genius detective.

╰₊✧ maybe mysta let you run away on purpose just so that he could drag you back for the fun of it, would you believe it? running away was the easy bit, the real challenge is staying away. despite his laid-back and careless attitude, he’s quite the sadist who loves the image of happiness draining from your eyes and being re-filled with sheer terror when he finds you in the next country over. you’ll be completely helpless against him as he drags to back to his home, tearing you apart from new loved ones just as he did before. it’s so easy for him to destroy all the optimism of being free and sinking back into the despair of being his. it doesn’t matter how much you try to cover your tracks, how far you run, how much you alter your appearance with an identity change, he’ll track you down because the red string of fate always brings him back to you.

you can’t help but feel cold when he holds you, useless as the feeling of desolation rendered you unable to fight against you. you just let yourself be limp and wallow in how pathetic you are, trying to muffle your cries against his shoulder even though you soaked the orange fabric. he didn’t even bother saying any words of comfort and just patted your head your head with his gloved hands, but you both knew that it was an empty gesture that wouldn’t console you in the slightest. there was nothing he could due to make you feel better when he’s the source of all of your woes, so he doesn’t really bother with it.

for any normal person, the tears of their partner would shatter their heart to pieces, especially if they were the reason for it. they would apologize, buy gifts, and do anything they could to show their remorse because they love them. mysta loves you too, he loves you so much, but he loved your misery even more. there’s nothing that he enjoys more than your teary eyes like little crystals brimming over and the cute little sobs you would let out while trying to hide how much he influenced your emotions. he’s sick, so sick, but there’s nothing that could cure him, not even attempts to snap him out of his cruel ways and make him love you in a healthy manner.

━━━ .°˖✧ ike eveland ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ a man with intelligence, but no remarkable prowess to stop you from leaving. he doesn’t have extraordinary deduction skills like mysta, magic like shu, an influence like luca, or inhuman powers like vox, but he has his own charms that work in his favor and keep you by his side. he’s just so… sweet and gentle. you can feel his love radiating in his actions and his words, almost making you forget about the fact you were being held captive entirely. his kindness is the main hurdle, making guilt pool in your stomach because you feel like you were betraying his kindness when he took care of you and treated you like a queen.

╰₊✧ you thoroughly believe that you would have fallen in love with him properly if given the time to do so, but unfortunately, he turned out to be batshit crazy and no amount of bonding is enough to make you completely forget that. once your resolve is solidified that it wasn’t love he felt for you but was instead pure unaltered obsession, putting your plot into action feels more possible. it’s more difficult than escaping from the detective who purposely let you go, but if you manage to outsmart the novelist, you’ll finally find yourself free.

he whistles as he walks down the corridor, holding a silver tray in his hands that has a glass of strawberry lemonade and two decadent slices of cake in your favorite flavor. there’s nothing like spending time with the one he loves the most and a sweet treat in the mid-afternoon, a little pep in his step to show just how excited he is for this routine that occurs about twice a week. in his satchel, he holds a few novels that he thinks you would enjoy and will be asking for your thoughts about the previous books he gave you as he always does. everything was perfect from the weather to his mood to your love life, he doesn’t think anything would be able to ruin it.

at least he thought there wasn’t anything that could ruin it, unable to explain how far his heart dropped when he couldn’t find you anywhere. he ran about the manor in a frenzy, thoroughly searching through every room and crevice while calling out your name. rushing back to your shared bedchamber to properly examine the scene of the crime where he last saw you, he realized that the chain had been broken somehow. he felt dizzy and ill, falling into an armchair and throwing his head back to try and make the world stop spinning.

he couldn’t believe this was happening after everything was going so well! did he do something wrong? did he upset you or offend you in some way? he racks his brain for anything he might have said or done for you to leave him, so deep in his delusions of true love that he doesn’t even consider the fact that kidnapping you and holding you against your will for about a year would have anyone running for the hills. maybe you would come back on your own, finding it in your heart to forgive him and return to be his again? who is he kidding, you’ll never come back unless he looks for you himself! he’ll go and give you flowers and chocolates, and if you still reject him, he’ll simply persist until you remember how much you love him! he’ll follow you to the ends of the earth to remind you of your relationship with him because the two of you were always meant to be together!

━━━ .°˖✧ shu yamino ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ similar to ike, shu is a very smart and clever person, but unlike the novelist, he has quite a few tricks up his sleeve. for instance, his home is laced with so many traps that are installed by his magic, like a temple straight out of indiana jones to protect his treasure. of course, he is the only one who can enter and exit as he pleases— the protection spell isn’t just there to keep you in, it’s also there to keep anyone who may be looking for you out. once he detects that someone is in his property, a simple snap of his fingers teleports you somewhere else until they leave. sometimes you find yourself in an abandoned city or the middle of a grassy field without warning, terrified but unable to find help no matter how far you try to run. wherever you are, he always knows the exact location and can summon you back just as easily as he banished you.

╰₊✧ he acts as though nothing happened, chatting just like he did before you found out his true colors. you can hardly even tell that he has such a manic love for you, remaining awkward as ever while referencing memes that you’ll never understand since you don’t have any interaction with the outside world. he isn’t half as delusional as the other boys, knowing that his affection for you is completely unrequited and will never be reciprocated, yet he still did it anyway because he just couldn’t help himself. you don’t understand this enigma of a man in the least bit, shrugging his shoulders like he didn’t completely alter the course of your life and give you lasting trauma, but at least he doesn’t force affection on you… which is the bare minimum and you are still set on leaving.

the creaking of the door was enough to make you panic a bit, filling the disturbingly quiet house. you weren’t quite sure where shu was, but if he wasn’t with you, then he wasn’t here at all. this was the first time you had left the room and the first time you were exploring the house since you were unconscious when he brought you in. it looked standard, like your average, run-of-the-mill home that you would see in television shows, and impossible to guess that there was a prisoner inside. as a result, it was pretty easy to navigate the place and you found what you thought was the exit within minutes. you found a set of keys hidden in a living room drawer and decided to test them out in the front door, not knowing of the traps and naively thinking it would be simple.

unable to contain your excitement, you prepared to inset the first one into the knob, but before it even touched it, the sound of alarms like a thousand cymbals blaring through your ears and making you drop everything from the surprise. you had no idea where the noise was coming from nor did you know how to stop it, quickly dawning on you that you fucked up. running towards a nearby window, you attempted to push it up to climb out of it, but it only seemed to make the sound louder. when you saw a neighbor walking by with a dog, you tried banging on the glass to grab their attention, but it was like you were a ghost and they continued on with their day not knowing they were being begged for help. clearly, his magic was surrounding and you were too stupid to remember that, seeing flames of purple beginning to form near you and signifying that he was home to see what the commotion was about. you can only hope that he won’t be too upset with you.

━━━ .°˖✧ vox akuma ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ how unlucky are you to be the object of the great voice demon’s affections! he rarely ever lets you out of his sight as being a demon in the modern era means that he too must stay hidden from the public eye. it’s suffocating being under his observant eye, something as much as blinking doesn’t go under his radar. since he isn’t human, his senses are heightened with him being to hear so much as a floorboard creaking or smell the blood of you getting a paper-cut from a different room, leading him to be able to just sense your presence no matter where you are since you’re never far from him anyways. you don’t quite understand it, but what you do understand is that it makes escape much more difficult.

╰₊✧ he’s just so overprotective of you and you get it, having heard the story of his clan and how he lost them when they were all so dear to him, but it’s no excuse for his extremely possessive behavior. you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been outside and touched grass that wasn’t in his garden. he’s always by your side and never leaves unless you need to use the restroom or something, like a guard dog that doesn’t understand boundaries, yet even dogs could be forgiven for not knowing any better. the only time you don’t feel watched is when he’s asleep, with an arm thrown around you, but unconscious nonetheless.

you were more aware of every shift of his body and every breath he took than you would be if he was really your lover, unable to get a second of rest when being coddled like this. you feared that if you squirmed at all, he would automatically tighten his grip around you, but was pleasantly surprised when you were able to wiggle free. hearing him grunt made your heart stop, but he stayed asleep until you tried to get off the bed and stepped on the ground. hearing him ask where you were going made you sweat bullets, but you just said you were off to get a glass of water.

unfortunately, he decided to get up himself to go get it for you, leaving you sitting on the Alaskan king-sized mattress thinking about your fate. you doubt that you’ll ever get away from him, he’ll just track you down and bring you back. the world is massive, but so is he and you won’t make it very far. you can’t hide from a demon, not for long enough to sigh in relief anyway. if walking on wood with bare feet was enough to wake him from his slumber, hearing you open a door or window would be enough to have him running.

━━━ .°˖✧ luca kaneshiro ˚₊ ⊹

╰₊✧ your prison is a palace dusted with gold, you’re served the finest food on silver platters, you’re decorated with jewels that are worth millions, but the splendor isn’t enough to distract you from the fact that you’re a prisoner. normally, you could only dream of living in a place like this where you’re doted on by a lover and spoiled rotten with whatever you want, yet you would do anything to trade this life for the people he had his men wipe off the face of the earth to have you to himself. it can’t be a paradise when you know it’s stained with the blood drawn by a mafia family.

╰₊✧ escape is next to impossible, as expected of the kaneshiro family. hidden cameras watch your every step and guards are lined up in every hallway to make sure that no one aside from their masters gets in or out, armed with weapons that they wouldn’t hesitate to use if necessary. even if they have strict orders not to use them against you for any reason, they are still allowed to use physical force to bring you back and any injuries will be regarded as collateral damage.

your legs dragged across the polished marble floors of the hall since you refused to walk back to your room, carried by two burly men in suits who caught you trying to run away for the -nth time. just like all previous attempts, you were caught within five minutes, which is an improvement to last time yet still not even close to enough to reach the pearly gates of freedom. knowing that you’ll need more then double of that to get out is disheartening, but everyone knows that you’re going to try again. you’ve learned that it really doesn’t cost anything to make a run for it, they don’t even punish you for it since luca loves you too much for that so they just throw you back on the bed before leaving.

there are a few bruises from their rough handling, but nothing too serious. you’d be willing to walk out of there with a broken arm if needed, you just wanted to go home and see the remaining few who weren’t picked off by the mafia again. later that day, you’ll be gifted with new dresses and shoes that shimmer in the light of the grand chandelier of your room to try and convince you to stay, however, there isn’t any use for such items if others couldn’t see it as well. if you keep trying, you’ll make it a little further as you learn from your mistakes, maybe even one of his men will feel pity for you or get sick of your antics and just let you go. you’ll only know if you keep trying.

#📜. her works #ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #mysta rias #mysta rias x reader #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijisanji #nijisanji x reader

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