#but god bless him he is not hung i fear

[toomuchracket]

can we all suspend belief enough for office nerd au for me to claim matty's absolutely packing or

#i love him to pieces #we all know this #but god bless him he is not hung i fear #HOWEVERRRRRRRR #cute inexperienced nerd packing heat is too delicious an addition to pass up #mads muses #office nerd au

[dumbsoftheart]

threads of fate

pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x preachers daughter!reader

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, heavy and dark religious themes, dark themes, fingering, kissing, swearing, sliiight voyerism, corruption and innocence kink,

summary: after a chase in the woods, coriolanus becomes devoted to making you his one and only follower.

notes: i don't know what came over me.. enjoy!

word count: 7.2k

౨ׅৎ

the blood of the lamb, washed over the sins of those strayed away from god, atones those begging to be spared from destruction. the saccharine ichor was the ultimate gateway towards deliverance- and thus sought out by sinners and saints alike to be granted eternal redemption for the transgressions that permeated the sweats and tears of the individuals whose secrets would have them damned to the dreadful inferno beneath their feet. the sweet lamb; symbol of innocence and purity, and the wolf who hunted it, the face of deception and treachery, stood now in the heart of the woodlands, the sweet kill hidden shamefully in the asylum of the crowded aspen as it’s predator tauntingly whistled in pursuit of it’s coveted prize. 

tears fell in a waterfall down into the vessels of your collarbones, trailing down and staining the frail white fabric of your dress, unveiling the soft tanned skin of your chest in its wake. with one hand clasped tightly against your mouth, you tried to conceal your wails of fear and the threatening thumping of your heart so as not to draw attention to the towering figure looming dangerously close to you, chuckling lowly as he carefully made his way through the maze of trees and forestry. your other hand was clutched desperately on the golden cross that hung around your neck, thumb haphazardly caressing the delicate engravings and etchings of the cool metal. 

hail mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus. holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.

shame washed over you as you thought of your mother and father- your dear father, and what they would make of your inevitable disappearance. you were taught the way of the lord since you emerged from your mothers womb; it followed you everywhere you went. by all means, you had lived your life for god himself. what would he think of you now? the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of god. and yet there you were, a thief, running from, no doubt, god’s punishment for your sins. 

despite your fathers widespread fame throughout the district, your family struggled to bring food and water to the table regularly. seeing the despair that clouded your mothers eyes as she failed to provide a dinner some nights for her family had driven you towards madness. you grew desperate- desperate to alleviate the stress that haunted her and satiate the hunger that settled in your stomach for the fifth day in a row. you rationalised, that with your undying devotion, god would find it in him to forgive you. with all the work your father put into his sermons and dedication to delivering god's word to the poverty stricken peoples of district 12, the divine being would be forgiving in his punishment in recognition of the loyalty you harboured. 

now, you knew you were wrong. 

you berate yourself for even entertaining the stupid idea of pilfering from the small bakery near the marketplace. in truth, it wasn’t even stealing. you had waited until dark threatened the sky, then snuck behind the establishment to snatch a few meagre, stale loaves that had been carelessly discarded in a small bin beside the refuse receptacles. combined with the butter you had been gifted earlier in the week, these provisions would barely suffice to stifle the persistent pangs in your stomach for a few days, at most. you naively assumed you were in solitude and hastily fled when you’d filled up your small leather bag with as many old rolls and loaves as possible. 

oh, how wrong could you have been? you never caught sight of the face of the man who now charged after you- only a faint glance at a familiar blue that weaved its way through the trees- but the adrenaline rushing through your veins urged you to run, and to never stop. and now, here you were, caught in the act, pathetically weeping as you waited for the repercussions of your actions to find you. 

you moved to press your back harder against the thin trunk of the tree, a twig snapping under the weight of your foot, and your eyes widened with fear as the sound reverberated against the still of the forest, the soft footsteps that trailed behind you coming to an abrupt stop. then, a voice. 

“my dear, it would make it so much easier for us if you just came out. i promise you, i don’t bite.” it purred. the way he spoke was low and unrecognisable, laced with an amusement that had you shiver with the depravity of it. your crying ceased at an attempt to remain as hidden as possible, nary a whimper escaping from behind the painful grip of your hand across your mouth. 

“i know you know what you did was wrong. i mean, stealing from a bakery? i wonder what your father would think of you now, his daughter a thief.”

you fought back tears at the mention of your father, shame once again weighing at your conscience, “come out, and i promise your punishment won't be as harsh as it should be.”

the proposition had you thinking for a bit, the truth behind the words appealing to you for a sliver of a moment. before you could consider your next step; find an out or comply to the omnipresent man’s offering, a gunshot pierces your ears, and you let out a shriek so loud you swore all of panem could hear you.

you begin to wail again then, uncontrollably, screaming and begging for respite as your body gave in under the weight of itself; your knees buckling and falling harshly against the ground. you shake with the ferocity of a small rodent before you’re pulled up by your shoulders and engulfed into a familiar, warm hug. your eyes wide with panic, you thrash your head back in forth in an attempt to find the man who was tormenting you, only to see that he was now gone, and in his place, a small search party lead by a peacekeeper cheered in glory at the sight of you. relief washed over you as you looked up to find your father, falling into the safety of his arms as he escorted you out of the forest, giving a curt thank you to the peacekeeper and another man you recognized to be one of your fathers students, before dragging you to the comfort of your home. 

౨ׅৎ

when your father found out the reason behind your being in the woods, you’d landed yourself a life of extra chores and punished to more frequent church visits until your father decided you had repent enough. your father, reassuring you of god's forgiveness as his child, warned that your actions wouldn't fade from memory. he emphasised the necessity of restoring your relationship with the lord and savior. you were under his constant watch, now. each morning, before dropping you off at school, he compelled you to pray fervently for protection over your family and yourself, urging you to plead for deliverance from the consequences of your actions.

with your increased presence in church taking up most of the time you had to yourself, you found yourself taking note of the other frequent church goers. your father, of course, and his dedicated student, were a constant in your peripheral vision. the old couple who lived only a few minutes away from you, mrs. harmon and her froofy, dirty church outfits, her boisterous children, and her grumbling husband. you noticed small things; like how the wife of the newly-wed couple in town had stopped wearing her wedding ring, and how her husband seemed to never give her a second look. how the twin boys in the grade below you suddenly surpassed you in height, and their younger sister now seemed to lack a certain innocence that was pertinent in her character before. you made a small promise to yourself to pray for her. 

there was one person, however, who you were not familiar with, yet you could feel it in the deep ends of your bones that you knew exactly who he was. he had begun to appear only once a week, his shiny buzzcut and blue peacekeeper uniform sticking out sorely from the rest of the crowd. then, twice a week- then three- and then suddenly you found you could not escape from him. everywhere you turned, he was there. when you walked home from school, you would catch him patrolling somewhere nearby, or laughing and chatting with his peacekeeper friends. when you opened the church doors for mass, he would be first to walk in, handing you a small smile before making his way to sit in the pew farthest away from you. he was there, everywhere you looked, and it unsettled you greatly. there was a lack of sincerity in his eyes when he smiled, and for a moment you thought that it had seemed like hunger, but you pushed the idea away before your brain could process it. one night, when closing the church doors and heading to your home, the small sound of rapid footsteps triggered your fight or flight response, the latter winning. when the man rested his hand on your shoulder politely, handing you a handkerchief you had dropped, you felt a strange sense of deja vu. the speed at which it sounded he had ran towards you didn’t match how he stood before you now; breathing even, chest pushed out pridefully, his dark sapphire eyes never leaving yours. but you were so sure that the man had been sprinting, just like the man who had sprinted after you a few weeks ago had. you gave him a small thank you before speed-walking your way to the front door, panting heavily as you locked it shut behind you and your hand made its way back to the pendant on your neck, grasping it so tightly it hurt, the stipe digging into the soft flesh of your palms as a way of grounding yourself back to your senses. 

that night, when you got on your knees to pray, you couldn’t shake the look on the mans face from your thoughts. his features themselves were even, lacking any sense of emotion, but his eyes troubled you the most. the way they bore into yours made you feel as if you would burst into flames right then. it made you feel as if there was something he wanted from you, but your poor innocent soul couldn’t figure out what. when you nestled yourself into your bed that same night, you vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. 

you hadn't realised how hard that would be. 

he approached you the next morning. it was saturday, and the usual gloomy weather of district 12 had been forced away and replaced with the harsh, bright sunlight. it shone spectacularly through the stained-glass windows, gracing the dark wood of each side aisle with vibrant reds and yellows and blues  and brightening the deep red carpet that lay evenly along the nave. you stood behind the pulpit, readying your fathers sermons and homilies for that week's sabbath. he had barged in unannounced, making his way towards you slowly as you pretended to ignore the tall figure making its way down the red path. 

“good morning, miss,” he spoke lowly towards you, peering upwards slightly as the pulpit was slightly taller than the rest of the church, and you pretended to read through the cards and flip through your bible as if it were you preparing to speak in a mere 15 minutes. he cleared his throat once, and you waved your hand nonchalantly towards the pews, “the preacher will be ready shortly. please, have a seat.” 

from behind your fathers flashcards, you could see a small tick of his jaw and he pressed his lips together tightly, nodding slowly before making his way to his usual seat, feigning interest in the architecture of the building. 

“its quite beautiful, no?”

you hummed. 

“i wonder how the district could afford to pay for it.”

the comment caught you off guard, causing you too look up at him with scrunched brows, your lips parted in confusion. surely, he knew the capitol had paid for it- and even then, what did it matter? a sanctuary for god deserved only the best of resources, you thought. the beauty of the church was a reflection of the beauty of your religion, the intricacies and meticulous carpentry of the building spoke to one of the three transcendentals that point to god. of course, it would be beautiful. 

before you could think of a response to the bizarre musing, your father burst in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek and thanking you kindly for preparing for him. the man stood up to make his way to greet the preacher, and you were out of sight as fast as lightning. 

that cycle continued for a while. he would sit in the pews, admiring the architecture (when really, he was admiring you), then stand to greet your father enthusiastically, frowning ever so slightly when you disappeared the moment he made any closer to your father. eventually, you had become quite good at avoiding him. you saw him less in the markets, saw less of him in church, and rarely caught sight of him anywhere else. that was, until you found him at your doorstep one hot summer day. 

you and your mother swore it was the hottest day to see district 12, and you sat on the porch in a small, lace trimmed top and cut-off jean shorts. your hair was carelessly tossed into an updo to relieve your neck of some heat, and you sat in your fathers old chair as you sipped on some juice your family had been given earlier that day. 

you weren’t expecting any visitors that day, so it was safe to say you nearly choked when the man appeared from behind the path of thrush that hid your small home from sight of the church, dressed only in the blue dress pants of his peacekeeper uniform and a thin white shirt, silver dog tag swinging like a pendulum across his chest as he made his way towards you. your father had emerged delighted, mr. snow!, he cheered, patting the man- snow, what a fitting name- on his back and urging him inside. you scrambled to the backdoor and into the kitchen where your mother rest, the door slamming behind you loudly as you entered, causing her to jump. 

“dear?”

“that man daddy’s talking to- who is he?”

she gave you a halfhearted shrug, “i wouldnt know, pumpkin, it’s probably business with your father. he goes to the church, no?” 

you nodded, pacing back and forth, ignoring the crazed look your mother threw at you as you processed the information. 

“do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” she reminded you, and your jaw dropped at the silent accusation she threw at you. 

“absolutely not, mother!” you stormed back out the door, drowning your mother’s laughter out with frustrated mumbles of has she lost her mind? and what a woman! how she could ever think something about snow was tempting you was beyond your understanding. however, when you made it back to your chair and your watered down glass of juice, the sight of a shirtless ‘mr. snow’ and your, otherwise fully dressed, father in the garden, dripping sweat shamelessly into your mothers vegetable patch, a snap thought breached your mind that perhaps there was something tempting about the mysterious man. 

that sent you into a frenzy. your knee bounced anxiously as you silently begged god to forgive you for the thought, and that it was simply intrusive, and not reflective of the morals and high grounds you held closely to your heart. nervously, you grabbed the book you had abandoned weeks ago and shoved your nose into the pages as if to distract yourself from your own brain and its wicked ministrations.  

you weren't sure of how much time had passed, yet it felt like the man's stay was suspiciously short as he and your father made their way inside. you gave him a curt nod, and your father gave you a small lecture about manners, insisting that the two of you become accustomed to one another. and there you were, legs drawn up to your chest as if to protect yourself from the sinful looking man before you. 

“my name is coriolanus snow,” he said. coriolanus. it was unlike any name you’d heard before. you returned the gesture softly, hoping that he would disappear behind your father into the house and you could breathe again, but he stayed and stared at you with that look, “your father tells me we’re the same age. he’s a nice man.”

you bit your lip at that. the same age? there was something about coriolanus that seemed older. it also begged the question: what was someone his age doing as a peacekeeper? you opened your mouth to pry at him, but he cut you off, stepping closer. 

“tell me, dear, what sins weigh in your heart?” 

you drew yourself back further into the safety of your chair, face laced with disgust as you tried as hard as possible to distance yourself from the imposing man now caging you into your confinement. his breath was heavy on your nose, and your heart pounded harshly- from what, you weren’t sure. fear? a sense of danger? temptation? his lips were so close to yours now, you could smell the faint scent of cologne that mingled with the saltiness of his sweat, and you tried your best to keep your breathing as even as possible, feigning indifference to his proximity to you poorly. 

“i dont know what you mean, mr. snow.”

he smiled at that, laughing lowly. he didn’t expect you to know what he meant, of course, but he had an inkling that if he played his cards just right, he’d have you right where he wanted. he leaned closer now, lips dodging yours, lightly brushing your nose as his head turned to whisper in your ear. 

“do you think of me at night? our little chase?”

“wh-what?”

“you’re smart, miss. think about it.”

he disappeared into the house, bidding goodbye to your mother and father and whisking himself away. your mouth remained parted, eyes wide with confusion as you tried to process what his words could have meant. 

surely, he couldn’t mean.. 

no. absolutely not, you decided. coriolanus may have unsettled you ungreatly, but he was a peacekeeper- and your father had always told you that they served to protect you, that they would never harm you purposely. you stood shakily and made your way quietly into the old house, reeking of old wood and boiled vegetables. you sat on the couch near your brother, holding his head to your chest as you stroked his hair comfortingly, still trying to process. from the kitchen, your father called, “he’s a nice boy, no? perhaps he could be of some influence to you, sweetheart.” 

you agreed meekly, despite disagreeing with your father completely. you werent entirely sure what he saw in the man at all, yet you were adamant that he was, in fact, not a good influence, but a parasite. you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. he made you feel unsafe- unsure of yourself, and for some reason, your faith. you decided he was no good; but yet you couldnt make any understanding of the bittersweet ache between your thighs. 

when coriolanus walked home that evening, he couldn’t fight his smile. he saw you, in all his glory, struggling pathetically under his gaze, squirming and fidgeting uncontrollably as he trapped you within the cage of his arms. 

the sacrificial lamb has been caught, he thought. 

what a stupid, stupid lamb. 

౨ׅৎ

you rushed into church near 5 am the next day, sleep deprived from the constant running of your mind and the damned words of coriolanus snow. 

“our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” you repeated to yourself, kneeled below the large wooden crucifixion of jesus, hands clasped tightly together, your head resting painfully against the white of your knuckles. 

what you were praying for, you didn’t know. you couldn't go to the confessional- heavens forbid, no. confessing secrets of your dreams of coriolanus’s hands, the outline of his jaw, the way he whispered his sinister words so sweetly into your ear- to your father? you would rather be hanged for the whole district to see. there was nothing sinful about your dreams, exactly, but it felt sinful, dirty, downright hellish. you thought of his lips, the soft and pink flesh of them, the stormy blue of his eyes- and, oh god, you couldn't stop replaying his words in your head. 

‘do you think of me at night?’ he had asked you so earnestly. as if he needed you to tell him yes, you did think of him, every night. it wasn't a lie, of course, only the way you had begun thinking about him had changed. but that wasn't your doing at all, was it? no, he was to blame, for speaking to you like that, for dangling his dog tag so close that it brushed your cross indecently, for showing up to your house and stripping himself half naked, sweating impurely over the soil you and your mother sowed and reaped with love, with innocence, purity. it was entirely his fault, from the way he seemed to be forcing himself into your life. the church door creaked open, and you continued to pray, “give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

your heart raced as footsteps neared closer, as if you knew exactly who they belonged to. 

“what troubles you, little lamb?” his voice took you with fear, the way it rumbled in his chest and reverberated on the walls confining the two of you, alone. you raised your head, refusing to look back at him, “i do believe that's none of your concern, mr. snow.”

you heard him chuckle lowly, repeating the words mr. snow to himself under his breath. it made you shiver, and you recited the bible verses your father drilled into your head from as young as you could remember: vindicate me, o god, and plead my cause against an ungodly nation; rescue me from deceitful and wicked men.

you could feel him now, knee pressed lightly against your back. you stood up and turned to face him, eyes wild and daring as they searched the azure maze of his own. his hand reached to stroke your hair, and you flinched. 

“why is it that you fear me so much, do you think?”

“i’m not afraid of you.”

he tsked, “‘fear’ is different than ‘being afraid’, darling. to be afraid is a fleeting moment. your brain's immediate response towards danger,” he moved to touch your hair again, now more forcefully, tucking the loose strands along your hairline behind your ear. 

keep back your servant also from willful sins.

he continued, “i asked, why do you fear me?”

you tried to search deeper into his eyes, trying to grasp any understanding at what he was trying to communicate to you. your mind ran amok, and it was no help that coriolanus's hand now snuck its way into your fingers, fidgeting with the soft digits mindlessly. 

“i don't.. i don't know-” he cut you off by stepping closer before you finished. you had wanted to tell him that you didn't know why he thought you feared him, that you didnt understand the question, and that you needed to get home soon, so to please excuse you. 

“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”

you let out an involuntary laugh, giggling childlishly at the accusation. you stopped, when his eyes darkened. 

“i’m sorry, mr. snow, but i really don’t know what you mean!” you were struggling to contain your girlish giggles. what he imposes between me and god? it was such a bizarre statement, so plainly laid out for you, that you couldn’t even comprehend it entirely. your laughing ceased, for good now, when his hand circled tightly around your wrist. 

let them not have dominion over me.

then i will be upright.

“i’m not stupid, love. i saw you, yesterday, practically drooling over me. i wonder what your father would have to say if he saw the sinful way you ogled at me,” he paused, and you swallowed painfully, “and dont tell me you’ve forgotten all about our little chase, hm? wasnt it exhilarating?” now, panic engulfed you. you tried to back away from him as the pieces etched themselves together in your brain, but his hold on your wrist was only getting tighter. 

“that was you?” your voice was impossibly small, weak from the alarm that blared in your head. your eyes darted back and forth desperately, searching for an out, hoping and praying that someone might burst in and see the scene before you, tear hades away from his persephone and save her from her impending doom. 

i will be blameless and innocent of great transgression.

he dipped his head to your neck, lips deliciously grazing over the supple skin of your collar bone, pressing kisses so light you could barely feel them as you tried to wriggle from his grasp. 

“of course it was me, darling,” the way you felt him smile against your skin was chilling, and you fought back tears as he moved impossibly closer to you, “isn’t that adrenaline rush just addicting? tell me, dove, what do you think about me when you lie in bed and replay our precious little moments together in that pretty head of yours?” 

your breathing quickened, and you winced as coriolanus gripped tighter at your wrist, his other hand painfully gripping the small of your waist, massaging the gentle muscle of it. you could feel his entire body pressed against yours, and a tear threatened to slip when you felt the hard pressing of his lower region on your stomach. you shook your head, refusing to give in to his line of questioning, but his grip on your waist tightened and you cried out in pain, “your hands!” you whined, relief slowly making its way to the sore area of your waist as he loosened his grip. he made to grasp your chin under his index, forcing you to keep eye contact with him and urged you silently to keep going. 

“your..” you let out a shaky sigh, “your h-ands, your voice, the words you speak to me. i don't understand why.” 

he cooed at you now, as if proud of you for speaking up. your eyes darted to his lips, and you saw something flash in his eyes, “anything else?”

let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight,

lord, my rock, and my redeemer. 

you tried to look down at your feet as if to run away from the question, but his hold on your chin was unrelenting. shamefully, you whispered, “your lips.” 

he let out a small ahhh, as if the admission shocked him. he knew, of course. of course he knew. you poor thing. sweet, little lamb, so innocent and pure. untouched by lust, blind to its deceptive allure. he knew from the moment he’d gone after you in those woods and failed to catch you, that he would do everything in his power to make sure you would never escape his grasp again. he knew when his frail attempts at getting closer to you failed, he had to resort to a harsher solution. he needed to infiltrate every space you breathed in, and break his was into your mind until he had you right where he needed you to be: malleable, so he could corrupt you just as easy. 

he knew your father protected you, the extent to which he went to protect you, as well. banning sex education in your school, ensuring your mind stays as pure as possible to the exploits of fickle men and their wants. you knew the basics, thanks to your mother and her worrisome self, but her teachings were meddled down into some confusing allegory that left your mind as clueless as before, so that you stayed intact, perfect and pristine in the lords eye as well as the rest of the district, in your white frilly dresses, light makeup, and perfectly crafted manners. 

he knew how easy it would be to get in your head. the human body is funny, like that, wherein it begs for things it doesn’t know of. he knew when he flexed his hands you caught sight of it, when he swallowed you intently watched the way his adams apple bobbed, he knew when he showed up to your home and stripped himself almost bare it would plague your mind with an unknowing want and desire, and soon enough, you’d have no choice but to give in to it, abandon your god and his lessons for coriolanus alone. 

he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, swiping his thumb across yours as if to mirror himself, and then ducked his head closer, “go on.”

you squeezed your eyes shut. everything felt so, so wrong, and you didn't know why, but you couldn't stop. when he continued to toy with your lip, slightly plunging the tip of his finger past them and into your mouth, you let out an involuntary, small moan, and your legs shook and quivered as the strange ache from yesterday returned. 

“wh-what?”

“kiss me.”

your eyes widened, and you shook your head. coriolanus thought it was adorable, how you struggled to piece together what was about to happen, how your brain tried desperately to fill in the blanks with information it didnt know. you heard coriolanus sigh disapprovingly at your protests and he shoved his thumb further into your mouth, causing you to choke. he removed it, then wiped the saliva that remained over your bottom lip before inserting the digit in his mouth, tasting you. 

“its okay, little one. you can kiss me. he wont mind,” you didnt realize your fingers lingered over the necklace nestled on your chest, and your gaze followed his finger as he gestured upwards. he wont mind. you racked your brain over the things coriolanus said to you from he entered the church.

“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”

now, you truly hoped someone would burst in, and you could scream and wail as you explained the horrors coriolanus was about to commit to you (even if those horrors were unclear). he was so close, and something still pressed hardly against your stomach, and suddenly you couldn't breathe, “he would mind. i promise to pray for you coriolanus, i don't know what troubles you, but the lord-” 

he cut you off by shoving his lips onto yours harshly, groaning at the contact. his hands made their way to rest on your clothed breasts, and you wriggled and struggled to try get away from him, but your efforts were fruitless. you were cornered, now. a lamb with nowhere to run or hide, forced to face its fate. he ravaged your lips, hands restless as they caressed all over your protesting body. the ache between your legs grew, and a small part of you realized that the last thing you wanted right now was for someone to walk in, and see the preacher's daughter being completely defaced by a peacekeeper. 

“your god cant give me what i need, angel. cant you see? you did this to me,” his hand grabbed yours as he pulled away to speak, trailing it down the hard muscle of his abdomen and palming the hardness that threatened to burst through the seam of his pants. your eyes were wide and doe-like, and coriolanus never needed to fuck you more. his lips met yours again, and his other hand fumbled to remove his pants, hissing when the air hit his straining cock, all while you tried your best to distance yourself from him as much as possible. your face was hot, and your hands remained in the air, unsure of where to rest them, as you slowly allowed coriolanus to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

“good girl,” he practically growled, and you let out a pathetic squeak when you felt your core tighten, pleasure washing over you at the small praise. coriolanus was turned on beyond conception, moaning disgracefully as he stroked himself through the fabric of his underwear. if you could see the spectacle the two of you were making, in the middle of church- no less, the thought alone had coriolanus close to the edge. you gasped when you saw him palm himself, and without thinking, your hand brushing his ever so slightly, lingering a second too long before his eyes snapped up at yours, pleading you to go ahead and touch him. 

when you finally pressed your hand to his clothed region, you swore the way coriolanus threw his head back with a small mewl and moan would land you an eternity in hell alone. 

“thats it, baby, jus’ like that.. keep going..” you gasped when his hand sneaked its way under your dress- your sunday best- your hand faltering a bit when his long middle finger lightly grazed your clothed cunt. the foreign feeling it elicited from you had you desperately searching coriolanus’s eyes for an answer, unable to speak as his fingers that toyed with the most intimate parts of you had you moaning softly and lowly, uncontrollably. you continued to palm him, and his hand slipped into the lacy cotton of your panties, cursing hotly under his breath when he feels you. 

“so wet for me. you dirty fucking girl, look at you: making a mess in church.” you didnt know what he meant, but shame burned through your skin. confusion grappled at you and you began to sob, not ignoring the way your tears seemed to make coriolanus throb beneath you, “please stop, coriolanus, this is immoral.”

“baby, if it feels good, then it cant be bad,” he stroked the tear stains on your cheek softly, cupping your face with false earnest as he pulled your head to lay on his chest, “does it feel good?”

coriolanus reveled in the way you looked up at him, like a devoted follower in the arms of their saviour. when you nodded slowly, he gently spun you around and shoved your face into the cool wood of the crucifixion behind you, his hand painfully pushing against your cheek enough so that you couldn't look anywhere but above you, into the sad eyes of jesus. 

your panties were ripped off with a shriek that was muffled by coriolanus’s hand around your mouth, and you sobbed as pain mixed with pleasure as he gave a few slaps to your dripping cunt, mumbling about how pretty it is. in a desperate attempt to wiggle out of your new position, you accidentally arched your back further, giving him more access. 

“let me show you how i can love you,” he whispered into your ear, before returning his fingers to the slick mess that coated your cunt, your body jolting when they occasionally brushed over your clit, the unfamiliar sensation already too overwhelming for you to handle. with a few more agonising strokes of his fingers, he prodded at your hole, teasing your entrance in a way that had your eyes roll to the back of your head. when he finally slipped them in, your hand pounded desperately against the cross you were pressed up on, pleads to stop falling pathetically into the hand of coriolanus and onto deaf ears. he was merciless with it, greedily pounding his fingers into you in a way that had your knees gravitating towards each other and animalistic grunts of pleasure vibrating through his hand. 

something in you burned, your body was pleading for more as an unfamiliar coil formed in the pit of your stomach. your hand continued to bang against the cross, tears falling as you forcibly peered into the eyes of your saviour while you got your cunt ravaged in the middle of his shrine. 

“oh god, oh god” you mumbled through his hand. you were unsure if it was shame, or the delicious way coryo pumped his fingers into you, but you grew lightheaded and dumb, eyes hazy as you grew closer to your release. 

“thats it, take it. you’re filthy, taking my fingers so well in the middle of church.” now, both hands scraped desperately against the cross, leaving marks in the wake of your fingernails digging into the hardwood. coriolanus tugged your head further up, forcing you to stare at him with tears streaming down your face and desperate pleas for him to stop going unheard. he smiled coyly when he felt your pussy clench around his fingers, and he withdrew them just before you reached your release, a loud, agonising whine of relief and desperation leaving your smushed lips. he was quick to replace his fingers with his cock, the slow intrusion of it making you let out a low, droned out groan as he stretched your virgin cunt past its limit.

he removed his hand from your mouth, and a string of prayers tumbled out of it, “o my god, i am heartily sorry for having offended thee,” and “and i detest all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend thee, my god, who art all good and deserving of all my love.” it earned you a slap to your ass, and you cried out loudly as coriolanus shoved your dress off of you, watching as it fell uselessly around your legs into a pool of white. he flipped you around, admiring your soft breasts and the way they spilled over in the hold of his fingers, and he traced the soft, plumpness of your belly as he chuckled lowly at your continuous prayer. with his cock still nestled into you, he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“god loves you, but not as much as i do,” and then he thrust his cock into you with such force that you nearly tumbled to the floor. his hand rest on your lower back, forcing you to arch closer to him, your hips meeting his unwillingly at his fast pace. coriolanus’s cock grazed the inside of your gummy walls perfectly, and you found yourself slipping from reality as he continued to pound his dick into you, moaning when you contracted around him without rhythm, your inexperienced self almost overloaded with pleasure, unable to control your body. 

“you’re being such a good girl, taking my cock like this,” he weaved a hand through your hair, “‘n you’re gonna let me cum inside you, yeah? gonna make a woman out of you.” you couldnt focus on the words he was throwing at you, lost in pleasure as the tip of coryo’s dick hit that one spot over and over again. the way he spoke to you had you at a crossroads, and it didnt help that he was fucking you into oblivion, and now you understood what he had meant when he said he imposed between you and god, because you were becoming addicted to the push and pull of his cock inside of you. 

“thats right, take it. you look so pretty all dumb and fucked out on my cock,” you reached to grab his arm to steady yourself, your orgasm creeping in closely, “you gonna cum for me?” 

you didn't know what it meant, but you nodded anyways, completely lost in bliss, “coryo..” you moaned out, his brows raising slightly at the new nickname, a smirk settling on his face. moans and mewls lewdly left your mouth as he quickened his pace, his unused hand massaging at your tits, twisting and pinching softly at your nipples as you thrashed with pleasure under him. 

“gonna make you worship this fucking cock, baby” he was close himself now, his head falling and his voice itching up an octave, lewd moans clashing with yours as the rhythm and pace he set began to falter, and he fucked you as hard as he could as he chased your high and his own, “gonna make you devoted to me. you’re never gonna wanna be away from me again,” his face twisted with pleasure, and you circled your arms around his neck as you tried to ground yourself, the coil in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel and threatening to snap. a shadow passed, and your eyes widened with terror as you slapped coryo’s arm haphazardly, begs falling from your mouth to stop. he turned his head lazily to look at what you were whining about, but his thrusts didn't stop. 

“let them see what a dirty fucking girl you are.” 

your walls tightened and your eyes rolled so far back into your head you were scared they wouldn't come back up as your orgasm reached you. you covered your mouth, shrieking desperately as the shockwaves of pleasure rolled over you, the newfound feeling unrelenting as it took over every part of your body. coriolanus repeated words of encouragement and praise as he fucked you through your high, before bottoming out and releasing his load in you, christening your walls. you whined at the feeling, so full and drunk off of it that your concerns of the passerby faded. the both of you stood there, panting heavily, both groaning when coryo slid out of you. he slapped his tip on your puffy clit one, two, three times, before a loud knock rapped on the church door. 

you could feel coriolanus’s spill leaking out of you as you crouched on your knees, hidden, and you cried silently, the reality of what had just happened to you settling in. coriolanus snow had corrupted you, in the worst possible way, and now you could only feel yourself crave more of him. as he spoke to the intruder, egging them to run along, a thumb caressed your head gently, as if to tell you he had everything under control. the small southern drawl he’d begun to pick up was more prominent. when the intruder finally left, you were forced to your feet, and coriolanus grabbed your ruined panties, resting on his knees below you to shove them into your used cunt, before making his way back to his feet, towering over you. he spoke to you like he would if he were on duty:

“you go on home now, miss. and tell your father i say hello.” 

and you did. 

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Hi! I would like to request a oneshot with gender neutral reader x Ghost. If you don't mind non-sexual intimacy. I don't know if this is too OOC. They get to a new stepp on their relationship, but soon after reader disappears and he can't find them. A little angst-y?

Lateness of the Hour (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Summary: Simon wakes up a few hours after sex - the first time you had sex. But he doesn't find you beside him and fears for the worst settles in.

Content warnings: Simon's got hella self-doubt and trauma around sex, references to sex so minors DNI.

Masterlist

Ever the light sleeper, Simon started awake at an unknown hour and reached out for you to confirm the reason for his breech of slumber. An empty spot, starting to cool, guided his gaze over to the bathroom door. Bless you, you kept the light off so that you wouldn’t wake him. Simon contented himself to wait for you to come out, to wave your hands about like a zombie until you found your way back through the dark to his side.

He slipped out the covers and strode over the bathroom when a minute had passed. His consciousness was scolding him all the way because, in his drained state, he’d neglected to listen for what you were doing in the bathroom. Which was nothing, because you weren’t here.

A hunt through the flat began, Simon clearing each room with the probability of him retrieving the gun from its safe increasing in likelihood with each step. His dressing gown slowed his movements just a fraction. His lungs kept the same tempo but each inhale became more and more laboured.

The kitchen was barren, no sleepy partner hunting for a late night drink. Your shoes were all still by the door. Pyjamas had gone so you were clothed.  

How, in all his battlefield wisdom and superior senses, he missed you the first time around, he didn’t know. But the split second he spied the bundle upon the couch, the lump buried beneath the throw pillows and blankets, he was upon his knees before them and parting the plushness until he found your sweet face.

As if you knew, you opened your eyes. You two stared at each other for a few rounds of breathing. Simon glanced down to see you’d put your pyjamas back on.

His silent question hung in the air like perfume: why are you out here?

“You were kicking in your sleep.”

You’ve put them off; they don't want you, flashed behind Simon’s eyes.

He blinked hard, his eyelids squeezing the thought out of his head like juice from a lemon. Sure, it’d taken over a year to get to this stage in your relationship but you weren’t that repulsed by him, were you?

“Sorry,” He offered you. Yet you shook your head, cheek rubbing against the pillow before you pushed to sit up and reply.

“Not your fault.”

You’d said the same thing to him the first time you’d tried taking a step towards intimacy last May. He’d frozen up then and he froze up now.

“I didn’t wanna wake you to tell you,” You added.  

Another silent question plagued Simon’s mind, hiding in his throat, as irritating as a cough.

Leaning up, swaying as you did so as you weren’t yet free from the hooks of sleep, you kissed his cheek that was ploughed by acne scars and knife slashes.

“You want me to come back?” You mumbled.

Hand brushing over where your shoulder was hidden beneath the blankets, Simon stared directly in your eye, “Want you to get some rest.”

So you repeated, “Do you want me to come back to bed with you, Simon?”

God, he wished he had his mask to hide whatever expression was on his face that made it so easy for you to read him.

You were being respectful, giving him space if he wanted it. But Simon didn’t want that. No, he wanted you crushed against him until your bodies became one, his clay skin moulded into yours and spun and squashed and smoothed to vanish the creases that had defined you as two. Even if it meant bruising you like a peach as he lashed out during his sleep, he would wake up to cradle your pulpy remains and soak up all the goodness you’d give, because he would never get enough now that he’d finally had a taste of you.

He felt like a parasite.

“Yeah,” he admitted, at last.

Already, you were up out of your burrow and carrying the burden of the task back to your room. Simon followed, still guilt-ridden over disturbing you during your time of rest.

Perhaps he didn't deserve the feeling of the bedclothes sealing his body close beside yours in your bed. Then you patted the empty space between you - an invitation that he heartily, greedily, remorsefully accepted.

Like a weighted blanket, he wrapped himself around you, tucking his head beneath your chin. His cropped hair bristled and his cool body, now free from its dressing gown, suckered itself to your skin. As you cradled your giant teddy, you soaked up his concerns over your sleep schedule with a resolute stare at the ceiling. Your hands warmed away the very notion that you were ever repulsed by him, his body, his history. And the way Simon clung to you and you to him, it made the vow to never leave this bed – to never leave each other – again.

______________________________________

AN: Thanks for this request! Sorry it got so long to get to, I've been settling into a new job. Let me know if you want another request, check out which characters/things I write for in the pinned post!

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #cod fanfic #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #my writing #wc: <1k #r: gn

[spacexseven]

I want a pathetic fyodor, one who just, gets down on his knees and gives his prayers. A stinky rat

i think we all want to see fyodor on his knees :^ part of the god reader au ^^ reader is gn but referred to as 'lord' here...cos idk what else to use

cw: yandere themes

"everything is going according to plan," he whispers, head hung low. for someone who claimed he was of weak constitution, fyodor was surprisingly sturdy on his knees, not trembling for a moment despite being here for almost an hour now in silence.

"there were a few...minor infractions, but the agency has been successfully framed and the sky casino is doing better than expected," your breath stilled for a moment, "for all this, i only have you to thank for that, my lord. thank you for gracing this humble servant of yours with your blessing."

despite how he has you seated on a literal throne, you can't help but wonder if this was merely an illusion of control that he was casting over you. but even for fyodor, wasn't this too long of a play? you had been worshiped before, a long time ago, but this level of reverence, this intense desire he had...a glimpse of amethyst peers up at you from below dark eyelashes, an unnerving light gleaming from the depths. and there it was again—unmistakable, unyielding devotion. it was so starved that it simultaneously frightened and mesmerized you. you almost didn't want him to look away. you had only locked eyes for mere moments before he lowered his quickly, almost like he was frightened.

the silence stretches. was he waiting for a response? since the day he called you here, placed you upon your magnificent throne, and bowed at your feet with a wretched cry of vengeance, you had never uttered a word to him. it wouldn't change even now.

"i do not expect you to be satisfied," he exhales after a long, painfully silent minute, "there is still much to be done. but i swear i will carry out your will no matter what it takes."

the sight was almost pitiful, him on his knees and head lowered pathetically. you considered, briefly, bestowing upon him some form of acknowledgment. something for him to look up at, eyes wide for a moment, only for his charming, characteristic smile to appear, like the first time you met him. against your better judgement, perhaps, you move your hand to cup his cheek, forcing him to look up. he seemingly melts with a low sigh, like you had relieved him of a decade of torment. you wondered if your touch was the salvation he often spoke of. emboldened by your initiation, fyodor moves to rest his head on your lap.

"thank you," a strange noise escapes him, and he shudders. it's not out of fear, you can tell, but something more... pleasurable, "i am not worthy..."

he moves again until his dry lips graze the palm of your hand, and suddenly, it all feels too real—his soft hair brushing your wrists, his warm breath contrasting the cold room—"i can only pray that you continue to bless me with your unwavering guidance, and let me carry out your divine will." his last words echo in the room, long after he's gone, "i will not rest until you stand upon the corpses of those who scorned you."

#is this ooc? idc let me have it lol #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere x god reader #god reader #god reader 🐟 #yandere fyodor #yandere fyodor dostoevsky #yandere fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor drabble #fyodor x god reader #drabble 🐟 #ask 🐟 #anon 🐟 #fyodor 🐟

[spicy-pears]

𝑨 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒅 𝑴𝒂𝒏

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 1-𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚. 2-𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔. 3-𝑬𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔.[WIP]. 4-𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍'𝒔 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 [WIP].

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: 𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙡(𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜), 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙚, 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜,Sadism,sexual vulgarity.[For the dirty readers like myself, the smut is towards the bottom 🤣]

𝙒𝙘: 3.4 k

Disclaimers: I researched a bit on johnny, and per the Pflugerville incident. Breaking into houses is not his Forte. He has tendencies to be extremely wreckless and impulsive. I'll be exploring that a bit more here. Along with mentions of babi sawyer.

I hope you enjoy❣️

Weightless, your warm dream state embraced you. The only God-given blessing, that took away the human flaw of pain. But this was only temporary. Voices, they were chaotic and many. But you could pick out your keeper's voice easily. You began to descend; your senses awoke in a violent rush. Your hip produced a festering burn. Wrists denied circulation as they were tightly bound. your eyes opened to the mesmerizing glimmer of your tears. Although awake you couldn't make sense of anything. Feverish sweat rolled off your heaving chest, as you were hung off the ground like butcher's meat. Your senses conflicted fear with peace you found yourself smiling at a small girl, a curious older woman, and your captor. Johnny's eyes glanced at you for a short moment, as if he knew something was wrong with you already. Your ears finally began to focus, now able to take in the chaos.

"Oh? Is she now? Well, babi's doll could use some fresh bones!" an old man mocked Johnny and topped it off with snide laughter. The older man leans down, getting a good look at you. "With how you roughed her up, how do you expect to keep her?" your eyes strangely couldn't keep up, as the old man shuffled round to meet your burning side. Using a red stick, he pushed up your dress slightly spotting the source of your delirium. "Your little work of art is infected, now she's no use at all!" He sucked his teeth and shook his head with grave disappointment. "Again, she ain't for eat'n old man" Johnny's voice trembled like an angry kettle. As you took witness to the conversation, you realized how badly you miscalculated. There was no section about cannibals, in your "How to tame a psycho" handbook.

"Big boy was allowed to have babi. I should be able to have my own too. I do plenty for this family!" johnny began to argue his case, making his importance and dominance in the family Prominet. "He's allowed that right! He works hard to support the household and does as he's told. All you do is bring trouble and damned mess about!" the older man continued to argue not backing down, to Johnny's bubbling annoyance. "Quit yer' barking at me. Or I may have to put your rabid ass down."

"Well, if she was a virgin, it should take just fine" Suddenly a cold yet maternal voice chimed in, to tame the rising tensions. Instantly you had a feeling this woman had to be Johnny's mother. as no one else in the room but her was sticking up for his passionate pleas. "No! No no no! We just got out of that Flores mess! And we finally just tamed babi. now you want another love child around here!?" you watched the older man quickly shuffle towards her. If her being johnny's mother wasn't already obvious her quick temper made it undeniable. "If you don't shut up! Those big Ol ears you still can't hear what people are saying! Feed the girl. She doesn't eat she don't live."

With a point to prove the old cook took no time to rush into the kitchen. he intended to present to you the most morbid dish he could muster. He hated Johnny's swaggering attitude and Nancy's persistent coddling. He couldn't wait to relish in Johnny's failure; all it took was you refusing to eat. Johnny followed him close behind and began to protest again, "You blind old bat! She's delirious, she can't eat meat yet.". Drayton confidently shot back, "She eats, or she doesn't live. You heard your mother." this time he had Johnny. there was no way he could huff and puff out of this one.

Nancy uncharacteristically took pity on you. She bent the rules for just this once. She took a handkerchief out from the pocket of her house dress. With it tightly balled in her fist, she let it soak in the blood at the bottom of a empty meat tray. "Well, she can still drink, go on sweet boy." Nancy handed johnny your saving grace. And stayed in the kitchen with Drayton, to finish her verbal lashing.

Johnny approached you with the blood-dripping cloth in hand. You tried to show your disapproval by shaking your head no. But in your delirious state, not much of a fight could be done. You felt Johnny's hand caressing your sweat-glistening cheek, ever so gently. As he began to bring your face down towards him, your lips now closer.

You held your lips firmly closed with all the strength you could muster.

"Come on now kitten, drink for me."

For the first time, his voice was heart-rending. You weren't sure if it stemmed from his pride or selfish desires. But he was desperate now, for you to accept his morbid request. Your eyes began to well with tears, watching the seemingly innocent 10-year-old girl. Her dark innocent eyes peering a curious glance at you. Babi would pass off as a sweet child, but she was proudly raised twisted. Close to her chest held her baby doll, something you knew was deprived of all innocence. How could you bring a child into this hellish environment, how selfish and cruel. You became content with the idea of death.

But one final look into Johnny's eyes broke your resolve. Deep down, unknowingly you etched out a part of your heart that cared for him. Your lips slowly began to part, opening your mouth as much as you could. Johnny's relieved gasp was met with drops of cold blood onto your lips, painting your tongue.

"There we are,let it be."

HOUSTON TEXAS.

SEPTEMBER 15, 1989, TIME: 2:00 AM

"I was wondering, 1 month into the search we found you in newt. How did you end up there? Many miles from Austin?"

"I honestly...don't know, the last thing I can piece from that time. Was going to a small-town college bar; in September."

Your eyes were fixated on the TV, examining each and every movement of yourself. Frisking for any nervous twitch, a self-soothing gesture, or even a moment of self-restraint. An aggravated huff radiated from your chest, as your fingertips ran against your scalp soothingly. why? why couldn't you remember anything? You watched your taped police interview so many times, combed through your written statements thoroughly, and attended each and every therapy session and then some to combat the mind wipping delirium. All exasperatingly fruitless, you couldn't even understand why the month of August held such great personal importance. so much so, that your sweet baby boy was named after it.

Your tired eyes began to shut, everything becoming silent and still in your mind. A soft grazing feeling ran up your neck, a feeling you could have sworn was a hand. Promptly your body shot up, and your hand protectively held your neck. Frightened you began to scan the room until they froze on a peculiar sight. Leaning in, you focused on an odd dark shadow casted against the crystal back door. As if shadows had awareness, it quickly moved from your inspecting gaze. You quickly excused it away, figuring it was a wild rabbit again.

Wisley, you called it a night. Not before quietly stopping by your son's nursery. Admiring the sleeping baby from his angelic expression down to his pretty boy lashes. All of which faintly reminded you of someone, someone who is now far from your memory.

TIME 3:15 AM

Your eyes fluttered open to the familiar melody. The upbeat romantic song that played during your wedding, bringing you a warm feeling of safety. The safety you cherished when you were finally found, finally free. But it was strange, your lazy eyes caught the time. 3:15 am, why would he play this so late? . You remembered your husband's disappointed confusion at his broken record player. Which now played eerily off key, deep and slow. Why would he play music on it now? Lazily your feet shuffled against the carpet. And unexpectedly met the soft rattle of your son's comfort blanket. Now Perplexed, you examined the small bat covered blanket. Abruptly, the flashing blue and white lights of your TV caught your full attention.

You felt the fear on your fingertips, as they glided against the wooden stair railing. Holding your breath, in an attempt to stop your heart from beating so violently. With each braved stair, your skin crawled with a stabbing chill that only increased. Until you stopped halfway, there he was. Your baby boy is being held by a shadowy stranger.

"Da-da!" The sweet babble from your baby boy brought you so much dread. He could never piece his babbles into a clear "Pa-pa" or "Da-da", To your husband's dismay. But now sitting on the knee of a stranger, he joyfully rang out his newfound word. The stranger leaned down, playfully shaking a teddy bear. While the smiling babe sucked on his knuckles, feeling truly entertained. Promptly, a pair of mirror dark eyes cut from him to you.

"Does mama remember me?" You knew that build, those eyes, and that damned intoxicating southern twang. With no more stairs to stall the inevitable, you now stood in Johnny's open view. You watched the corners of his mouth, curl into his signature devilish grin. "Well, Hey there kitten!". You were rendered stuck, each attempt to speak was snuffed out with exhales of confused disbelief. Before you could finally say anything, a frantic knock at the door, snapped you out of your confused loop.

"Hey, neighbor! It's me Carol from across the street? I know it's late, but I was looking out the window. You know, As I always do. And I think I saw a man entering your garage." Slowly you turned your incedulous glare at Johnny. Who averted your gaze, paying his full attention to his coo'ing baby boy. You looked up at the ceiling, the new object of your ire. As it received an array of silent French curses.

"Uh! That was just the emergency, pest control guy. I found a rattlesnake in there not so long ago, scared me half to death!" you devised the quickest excuse for the tall scar covered man who took presence in your home. Then the realization hit you, this wasn't a cute little night time visit. You instantly knew johnny was going to kill you tonight.Before carol could walk away, you quickly opened the front door and stammered your desprate request. "Hey, carol? could you watch August for a bit? Even for just an hour, ....please?".

She noticed your desperate distress, before she could ask what was going on. august was already in her arms. "O-oh!" she looked at the tiny heartbreaker in her arms. She looked up, in a second attempt to ask what the matter was this late. Only for her eyes to be met with johnny's. She was frightful under his stone-cold, intimidating stare. "Oh! Goodness!" Carol looked down at August, her eyes gradually widen with revelation. The baby oddly looked exactly like the pest control man. Before she could get in a second look, Johnny shut the front door in her face.

"Now why would you go on and do a foolish thing like that?" You were now alone with Johnny's full upset. He waited for a response from you, but you were silent entering a state of doe-eyed fright. johnny knew that look and knew what it meant. He wasn't here to kill you, as far as he was concerned you are his family. But the look he gave in return was different; it wasn't his hungry grin, nor was it any sign of the bad man. It was rather calculated, he circled you. Letting you take in the unknown expression, and he knew it drove you crazy. The corners of his mouth curled softly, and his eyes appeared gentle. For once you admired the light dancing off his eyes, a rare sight. Then the realization struck you, and at the same time the pain did. This was his calm before his storm.

Swiftly your body was yanked and pressed against his from behind. He began savoring the way your plush ass cradled his now hardened length. With a soft exhale, you felt your needy cunt tighten on nothing. As if your body was preparing itself for a battle. Johnny's soft drifting lips against your neck acted as the carnal declaration of a long night. Sly as ever, you felt him lick his lips against your neck. The tip of his tongue teasingly ran across the small area on the back of your neck. The sweet fantasy ended, with his devilish chuckle.

"Enjoyed yourself?" As he began to pull away, your eyes filled with dismay begging for him to continue. "You know half of the family wanted me to come down here slit your throat and leave. but where's the fun in that?" Johhny would exact his usual cruelty, firmly pressing his finger down on your still very sensitive branding. You tried your best to stand still on your feet. refusing to give him the satisfaction, of watching you crumble weakly before him." we have an hour, right?" He asked you a question, in any other situation he'd demand an answer. but tonight, he didn't need any answers. You were to be thoroughly disciplined. His controlling press got maliciously harder, his fingers almost digging into it. Unable to hold in the pain any longer, you fell to your knees. A hunched-over teary mess, panting as you attempted to collect yourself.

"You know, you have no business being up this late" Johnny knelled down to your eye level. His hand displaying a unexpected gentleness. His fingertips softly taped the bottom of your chin. Promptly, you raise your head to look at him "Time to teach you the house rules.". you felt a swift yanking of your left hand. before you knew it johnny tossed away your wedding ring into a trashcan. You watched his leather boots re-enter your view. Eagerly you watched johnny make a display of taking off his shirt Infront of you. He met your starving gaze, only to unzip his pants. allowing his thick curved length to spring out for you.

"Lesson one, who's the man of the house?" He gave you the sweetest smile. You knew something was up. This felt like a trick question, but you had no desire to navigate his mind games. Your hips began to grind in a circular motion, begging to be fucked. You answered his question with ease, "You Johnny". Johnnys sweet smile slowly curled into a coy smirk. His fingers carefully glided through your hair, only to vandalize your locks with a rough yank. The pull by the top of your hair forced your mouth wide open. Assuming the position, you let your tongue lay out flat, ready to receive him. You felt his eyes impatiently glaring down, before his grip exucted a rough correcting yank. "Follow the curve, memorize my cock." His deep voice firmly demanded you, his gaze sharp and equally dictating.

Johnny was nice enough to slowly thrust into your mouth, allowing you to learn how to follow the perfect upward curve. Your jaw achingly tensed up on the first stroke, as you took in his full girth. Your sloppy warm tongue caressed each ridge from the veins that adorned his length. He'd let out a pleased groan that traveled down his spine. Encouraging him to thrust deeper into your mouth, his pace growing increasingly rough. The tip of his cock began tapping the back of your throat, dipping in deep until he felt your lips meeting his base. Each rough thrust forced your nose to press hard against the base of his cock. Leaving you in a sweet breathless starry haze. Eyes half lidded you enjoyed the bouncing stars that rivaled Exstacy.

He watched you struggle to keep up, your eyes prickled with thick beads of tears. You desperately dug your nails deeper into his toned thighs, each time he denied you a chance for air with his punishing thrusts. He even ignored your needy fingers, trying to tame your aching clit. The view was truly beautiful, your sloppy hot saliva dripping off his cock. While your wet cunt covered your fingers in a constant dripping stream of wasted slick, combined made the perfect lewd puddle.

The grip on your hair tightened, while his length pulsed against your tongue. Your fingertips felt the muscles in Johnny's hip and thighs begin to contract. The rumble of his frustrated moan alerted your eyes to look up at him. god did he love your face, especially when it was an innocent-eyed mess. "Get up" His tone is now dangerously impatient, his hand gesturing you towards the dining table. Your obedient mouth parted ways with his cock, leaving a connected string of salvia as a parting gift. hastily you tried to catch as many breaths as you could. Before you could even take your dress off for him. He tossed away your uselessly wet panties to the side. And proceeded to hike your left leg up over the top of the dining table, allowing you to stand on the other. The new position stretched the muscles in your thighs into a tingling numbness.

Johnny's forceful control of your hair didn't waiver. He kept his heated gaze on you, yanking your head back onto his shoulder. Your pussy stood no chance, he maliciously watched you build yourself up. Your needy well-manicured fingertips rubbed your clit in so many ways. Never once did you stop, nor did you ask for permission. And for that, he wanted to make you suffer all that build-up all at once. Your breath hitched into a soft hiss. Your entrance is teased with a shallow thrust, Taking in the full girth of his tip.

"Impatient whore, you couldn't just wait, could you?" Johnny's hands roughly gripped your ass, spreading you open for his abuse. leaving no room for your squirming, you weren't going to run from it this time. His hips thrusted deep into your pussy with calculated precision. His tip ruthlessly hit the sensitive spot of your cervix. Your loud moan became a choked-out sob, as Johnny kept your head still in his desired position. He had the best view of your Sobbing face and quivering sweat-kissed body that couldn't handle the intensity of your sudden release. Numb your fingertips reached back meeting his rugged abs with a push, trying your best to request for a moment of pause. With a pathetic whimper, you began to beg "Please Johnny, i cant" Which was ignored. With a low demonic growl, his thrusts picked up a feral pace.

Johnny reveled in the symphony of cries, as your oppressed pussy gushed and squelched around him. "Damn!" He cursed Through a deep trembling snarl; his cruel discipline grew animalistic against your broken body. Letting go of your head, his chest firmly pressed against your back. Your hips began to tease back, pushing back in circular movements along his length. For once Johnny began to break a sweat, feeling the tight wet gummy ridges of cunt flutter around him.

In an attempt to stop your antics, his teeth sank into the soft cartilage of your ear. The blood-rendering bite brought a stabbing pain that shot down your spine, freezing your disobedient body still. His hips rocked you into a sensual wave, as he fucked his thick spill into you. overwhelmed your pussy struggled to take the weight of his cock and now his heavy load. He probably pulled his satisfied cock out of your thoroughly disciplined cunt."Still a defiant slut, we'll fix that later" Your head whipped around, eyes filled with yearning as you watched Johnny dress himself back up, his fingers combing his hair back into his signature style. He wore an amused smirked, while looking at your pitiful expression;

"Aww, too bad. Your hour's up kitten"

CHAPTER 2 END.

CHAPTER 3 PREVIEW:

"10-23, empty squad car located on the emergency lane. No sign of suspicious activity, looks like he left the car to move roadkill maybe."

The female officer looked around the empty highway, for any signs of blood or a wounded animal. With no luck, her eyes inspected the inside of the car.

" Uh, 10-13, I see what looks to be...sunflowers? left on the driver's seat?"

Refusing to foolishly taint any evidence, she took her pen and flipped over a card that simply read.

"Family First." Warning: upcoming chapter will be bloody (potential end) of the series.

PREVIEW END.

#johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x oc #texas chainsaw massacre #slasher x reader #johnny sawyer #tcm game #tcm #texas chainsaw game

[jessmaybank]

Jailbirds; part 1 - do the crime, do the time.

Series masterlist

Outer banks masterlist

Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x fem! Reader.

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: When you get arrested at a party, you are forced to spend the night in a cell with JJ.

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, fighting, mentions of abuse (smut in next parts).

Authors note: I had this idea this morning and I just had to write it. And this gif - I mean god bless. Let me know if y’all want a Rafe version.

It was a Friday night in the sun-soaked paradise of outer banks. The evening light painted the sky in hues of purple, pink and gold, as numerous teenagers were scattered around the beach drinking.

You were no stranger to obx parties, although sometimes you did feel like it. You had a knack for finding yourself in troublesome situations, and tonight was no different.

You were pushing through the crowds of people to get another drink when someone pushes into you, the cheap beer in their hand drenching your white top completely. Thank god you chose to wear a bra tonight.

You recognise the girl as Sofia, Rafes new girlfriend. You actually thought she was nice, but your drunk state meant all rationality was thrown out the window.

“Excuse you” you spit, wiping your top as if it would magically dry by doing so.

Sophia chuckles, a sickly smirk spread across her freckled face, and you already knew a bitchy comment was about to pour out of her.

“You bumped into me, bitch” she says, taking a step closer to intimidate you. Little did she know you were the wrong bitch to mess with.

You almost laughed In her face when the reality hit, Rafe must of had rubbed off on her already.

people around us were staring, and you knew you couldn’t just leave now. You were ganna have to fight her, and to be honest you wanted to.

So, that’s exactly what you did. Your right arm swung through the evening breeze right into her cheek, sending her stumbling back until she’s submerged into the party crowd.

You leach forward to find her again, but you were interrupted by two big arms wrapping around your torso pulling you back abruptly.

You struggled to get out of their reach, but evidently failed. When you felt the feeling of cold metal being wrapped around your wrists, your heart stopped for a second.

Shit. It was the cops.

Turns out, moments before disaster, someone called the cops on the party. Just my luck, you thought to yourself.

Fortunately, the officer spared you the pleasure of reading your Miranda rights as he hurled you into the back of their van at the top of the beach. People stared, but you didn’t care. You just hoped they wouldn’t call your parents.

A chill ran down your spine as were escorted into a dimly lit cell in the back of the police station 20 minutes later. Despite the fact you were a little rebellious, you had never been locked in a cell before.

You winced as your fingers trailed along the red marks sprawled along your wrists, left from the hand cuffs.

Disoriented and disheveled, you sit on the lone bench in the cell, bringing your legs up to meet your chest.

As time passed, your initial fear and frustration transformed into a period of quiet reflection. You pondered your life choices as you wondered how the hell you ended up here. Although your mind was filled with regrets, you couldn’t shake the sliver of hope whispering to you that maybe something good will come out of this.

A large clang filled your ears as the jail cell opens, causing you to lift your tired head.

“Jails crowded. He’s ganna have to bunk with you” the officer says, and you then register the figure standing next to him.

A boy, who looks about 18, stands beside the officer. His head is hung high and confident despite the fact he’s about to be confined in a small cell with you. You had a feeling this wasn’t his first time.

You take in his features, gazing at his blonde locks and his muscly physique as he’s ushered in the cell.

As he comes in closer proximity to you, you begin to recognise him as one of Kiaras friends. You and kie used to be close, but drifted apart a bit when she started hanging out with the pogues all the time. Hopefully he didn’t recognise you.

“Your locking me in here with a kook? You gotta be kidding me.” He laughs, and you scoff at his rude remark.

Great, so he does knows who you are.

Before you could protest to the guard about being locked in a cell alone with a man all night, and an annoying one at that, he was gone. Surely this can’t be legal.

“How does a kook end up in here anyway? Did daddy not give you enough allowance to buy your way out today?” He says, a mocking tone present within his words as he slumps himself onto the bench next to you.

A mixed smell of weed, beer and vanilla aftershave fills your nostrils as he sits next to you, and the unfamiliarity of his presence so close to you causes you to bring your knees back down to the floor.

The blonde was a bit surprised of your lack of response to his comment, usually kooks are not afraid to knock a pogue down.

“Your wet” the boy says, trailing his eyes over your body, before focusing a bit too much on the way your bra was on display through your shirt. The mischievous glint in his voice made you feel warm inside, despite the fact that as he confirms, you were still wet.

“Thanks for that Einstein” you say in a sassy tone, rolling your eyes in the process. You then shoot him a glare as you turn your head to face him.

With his own history of daring adventures and brushes with the law, the boy couldn’t help but be drawn to your fiery and independent presence.

“Mm, sarcastic, I like it. Is that pretty little mouth of yours what got you in to trouble?” He asks.

You knew he was taunting you, pogues and kooks don’t mix. You learnt that the day kie started blowing you off for the boy currently sat beside you.

A small part of you couldn’t blame her though. As obnoxious as he was, he was very nice to look at. But for the life of you, you just couldn’t remember his name.

The blonde spent the next ten minutes pestering you about what you did to get in here, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You knew the moment you told him he was just going to start mocking you again.

“Come on, just tell-“ the boy is interrupted as the jail cell slides open for the second time tonight, and you pray he’s not about to shove another delinquent in here.

“Y/N, your parents didn’t answer their phone, you know where they are?” The officer asks.

“they’re on vacation at the moment Sir” you lie. You knew your parents were home sleeping, but they were heavy sleepers. That, and they didn’t really care where you were most of the time. Although it did upset you sometimes, you were grateful for it in moments like this.

“JJ” the cop begins, and it comes back to you. His name is JJ.

“Don’t bother. He ain’t here” JJ says, cutting off the gaurd. You notice how his head falls down and his face screws up at the mention of what you assume is his father, and the memories all come flooding back to you.

You recall a day last summer when kie came to you crying about her friends, her words ringing in your ears as you sit in this dim cell. He hit him. JJs dad was abusive.

“Well, we’re short staffed today so I will get someone to escort you both home in the morning. Maybe this will teach you both to stop getting into fights” he says, before leaving just as quickly as he came.

Ignoring the fact that the pair of you had just been sentenced to a night together in here, you screw your eyes shut as JJs smile grows wider and wider.

“You got into a fight?”

#obx #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #jj obx #rudy pankow #drew starkey #jj outer banks #outer banks season three

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part V

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6200 Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, slight family angst aka daddy issues? I'm terrible at these

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here

Summary: Set at the end of Act II, after Moonrise Towers and Kethric. Reader/Tav leans on Astarion and reveals more about their family and their story from before the Nautiloid.

Notes: I've emerged from my cave I made on the couch in my basement and finally finished this update! I got bronchitis a week or so ago and it kicked my booty, but I'm finally feeling better!! YAY! I have no voice still, but good thing I don't need that to write fanfiction!

So this update reveals more of our Selune blessed Tav's backstory that is based off my original D&D character. I was really hung up on whether or not I should include more backstory and lore for this GN!Tav/Reader, since it isn't very typical for a lot of the gn!reader fics I've read. But it was giving me such writers block if I did not include it, as I honestly have the rest of this fic completely planned out and the endgame I have for this pairing relies on more of this backstory, so I decided to include it! Also, its my fic… and my character sooo I hope you enjoy my baby and the little story I wrote for them five years ago. This character will have a special place in my heart forever, and I'm excited to share more of them with you all!

I also desperately wanted to include a scene of Astarion and Tav/Reader kissing for the first time since his confession and them setting boundaries about physical intimacy and contact. I know the game just lets you click the kiss option right away, but I like to think its something that Astarion would build himself up to again and would maybe even have to relearn — not kissing like it was a performance, but instead an expression.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! It means so much to me and every time I see a notification! It fills me with infinite joy ♡♡♡ I know there is lots of posts circulating about this and tags get filled with it, but reblogs and comments are so so appreciated!! :)

·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

He wasn’t sure how you did it. Astarion was exhausted, beyond that actually — shattered. His feet were stiff and aching, his mind fuzzy with weariness. Yet you were still smiling, accepting the gratitude of every single person at the Last Light Inn with humble nods and smiles. He’d never had a longer day in his life. The temple, the Shadowfell, Shadowheart, Moonrise Towers, the goddamn Absolute. Gale... Gods, you had talked down Gale from fulfilling the desire and demands of an actual goddess. All in one day. All he wanted to do was to fall into a bed with you, and sleep. To just pretend for one moment that there wasn’t any marching armies or impending vampire masters waiting in Baldur's Gate. To ignore the thrum of anxiety and fear that coursed through him as he remembered exactly what was carved into his back — what Raphael had finally revealed to him. Just for today, he had wanted to rest. But no — the end of this never ending day was to finish with a celebration. An annoying, lively celebration.  The vampire was being stereotypical as ever — standing in a shadowy corner, moody and silent as he nursed a red glass. It was wine. Gale had found a decadent bottle, buried away and forgotten about on some dusty shelf. The wizard had made an eloquent toast to the group gathered on the bottom floor of the inn. But he was now standing with Wyll — the two of them conversing politely with a pair of obviously flirtatious tieflings. Karlach had her arm wrapped around Damon, the two of them chatting enthusiastically and laughing.  Astarion was surprised to not see Shadowheart by Karlach — the two of them inseparable as of late. No, what was more shocking was that the dark-haired cleric was sat next to Lae’zel. Their mouths barely opening as they spoke to each other in low voices, buried under the noise of the celebration in the inn.  He almost choked on the sip he had just taken as his red eyes finally returned to you — where several people were forming a makeshift line to speak with you. The next one more bashful than the last as they leaned in to speak with you, all flushed cheeks and batting eyelashes.  You always had a certain charm about you, an innate ability to draw out easy smiles and laughs from others. You were also undeniably attractive — anyone who said otherwise would be a blind idiot. But other people being enraptured by you had never bothered him before. He had just silently agreed with them — that yes, you were indeed a prize like no other.  But you were his now, weren’t you? As he was yours. Even without the label or words that he still couldn’t figure out how to say. That he was too afraid to say. Regardless, why were you entertaining these fools?

He'd not felt this before — was it jealousy? Gods, he was being like a petulant child who didn't want to share their toy. You were a person, you could make your own decisions. That was the entire point of all of this. 

What was he going to do — follow you around like a lost puppy? Drape himself over you, clutch onto you like a coat so others would see he was with you? 

You must have felt his red eyes piercing through you as you suddenly flicked your eyes over to meet his gaze. Your face instantly brightened, a smile tugging on your lips. An overwhelming sense of relief went through him as you waved apologetically to the small group in front of you, before weaving your way over to his dark corner. 

"Yes, darling?" He drawled as you approached, trying to hide any emotion betraying on his face as he tipped his wine glass in front of it and took another sip. 

"Why are you hiding away in this corner? Not feeling like being paraded around like a hero?" You said sarcastically. 

Astarion rolled his eyes at you, replying dryly, "I am many things, but a hero, I am not."

You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice until it was just a whisper. "I would beg to differ. But you have a reputation to uphold, don't you?"

He barked out a laugh, before flicking you in the nose gently. "You cheeky pup." 

"Ow." You feigned, scrunching your face up at him. "That hurt." 

A wave of courage swept through him as he pushed back the little voice in his head. He leaned forward and pecked his lips onto the tip of your nose. He hoped the tingle that spread across his lips as they met your skin would spread to you. It seemed it did as your skin then flashed a delicious, brilliant shade from surprise. A tiny squeak even escaped you, your eyebrows shooting up. 

You had not kissed, not since his confession. Not since all of this had started. Not a brush of lips against hands or cheeks, nothing. The look on your face and the sudden increase in the thrum of your heart had him feeling light headed. Did he truly have such an effect on you? 

For a moment, he let his gaze from you lapse as he swept his eyes across the inn. To the disappointed glances of a few partygoers, and the knowing looks of his companions, watching the pair of you interact. 

A flash of gratification went through him, satisfied at the effect he had not just on you but at those who had eyed you before. It squashed the jealously that had made a pit in his stomach, instead twisting it with a new, slowly recognizable feeling. 

"There, all better?" He smirked. 

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding at him. 

Astarion rubbed his lips together, the tingling sensation on them lingering still. "How much longer does the Hero of the Shadowlands need to stay down here?"

You looked over your shoulder to the gathered patrons, the crowd thinning out more and more as the evening faded into a dark, late night. "Bored already?" 

He let out a weary sigh, letting his shoulders droop. "Exhausted, darling. And I know you are too." 

You were always a sight to see, holding a beauty he could have never imagined or conjured up in his head. But he could see the purple circles under your eyes, the usual sparkle in them had long gone dull. 

Your eyes flickered to your boots, nodding your head in defeat. "You're right." 

"I believe they have set some rooms aside for us, if you wish—"

"Do you?" You caught him off, trying to hide your own eagerness.  

His gaze softened, a smile tugging on his lips, "Very much so."

The pair of you bid goodnight to your companions quietly, subtle nods and waves as they continued their own conversations or headed to their own rooms. Astarion walked slightly behind you on the stairs, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as you led the way.  The path you took was familiar, the worn floor boards creaking before you were outside the private room the two of you had occupied once before.

Astarion let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door softly behind him, the sounds from the lingering party below muffled and leaving you in a peaceful quiet. But as he found reprieve in finally being alone, you suddenly crumbled.

You dived for the bed, a heartbreaking sob escaping you as your hands covered your face. 

Your name choked out him before he crossed the room quickly and joined you on the edge of the mattress. Gods, what was it about this Inn and room that had you breaking apart on it? "Darling, what's wrong?" He asked, concern etching every feature.

"I- I, didn't-"

He remembered your words earlier today — gods, was that today? How comforting his touch was for you, being reminded of his presence. He placed his hand carefully on your own that was trembling on your thigh as you tried to speak. 

You finally gasped out, "She wasn't there, she wasn't-"

Mol. The little tiefling girl. You had promised those rascal children downstairs you'd find her. And it was you who had told them she wasn't in Moonrise tonight, swallowing deeply as they dipped their heads with disappointment. But you had told them not to give up hope, that she was resourceful and strong. You had sounded so convincing that even he had believed you. 

But here you were, sobbing and breaking apart in front of him. "Oh, sweetheart. Gods, I should have seen this, I'm sorry."

You sniffled, glancing up at him with wide eyes. "Why are you apologizing?"

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shining with understanding, "I know you better by now. It was a mask you were wearing tonight...," He tucked a stray hair back behind your ear. "I hate it when you wear it."

"I just wanted everyone to be okay, I tried so hard..." Your voice cracked and broke. 

"You've done so much, darling. Look at what we did today, that was because of you." 

You always took care of everyone else. But who took care of you? Astarion thought, perhaps... him. He could… he would.

He had been.

"Oh my little moon, you don't have to carry the world by yourself, you know?" 

You sniffled and nodded, silver still lining the bottoms of your eyes. 

"May I?" He echoed the question you so often asked of him. You'd never touched him without asking the question first. Your consent you'd granted him was a separate conversation, one where you had told him casual, simple touches were okay. A silent conversation and agreement sometimes was exchanged with a look of your eyes. But with him, you had always asked. He thought that now he would return that favor to you, as you opened yourself to him — vulnerable and upset once again on the edge of this mattress. 

He hoped you appreciated the sentiment, as much as he did.

The vampire reached down, hovering his hands over your boots. Your brows furrowed slightly before you were nodding. Your eyes never left his pale fingers as he untied the laces of your boots, gently prying them off before setting them down neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he did the same to his own before he slid his way up the bed, leaning against the headboard before patting the spot next to him. 

"Come here." 

You hesitated, before beginning to scooch over to him. When he opened his arms as a silent invitation you hesitated again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please come here." He nodded solemnly.  

Astarion willed himself to keep steady and clear, drawing a breath he truly did not need. He enveloped you in his arms as you laid next to him, trying to stop his limbs for stiffening. It was all so foreign, it was terrifying. 

But your familiar scent filled his nose, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat with your chest pressed to his side. His fingers laxed as you settled into him, bunching into the material of your shirt. Your breaths started calming and eyes fluttering as you laid with him. 

"Is this okay?" You whispered — uncertainty laced every word. 

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."  He said softly, before swallowing thickly. "I don't know what I'm doing." You started to remove your limbs his, but he tightened his hold on you. "Don't, please."

"Astarion if you aren't comfortable—"

"I am, it's not that." He rubbed the soft material of your shirt between his fingers as he spoke, "I want so badly to be this for you, to be what you need. But I don't know how."

You craned your neck up to look at him, "I think you're doing a good job of it."

He looked down at you through his long lashes, "Truly?"

"Yes, Astarion." You sounded genuine, "No one... no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

He let out a sigh of contentment, settling in deeper with you before resting his chin on the top of your head. "I know we have so much left to do... But laying here with you. It makes it worth it."

"Are you scared?" You asked in a whisper. 

"Terrified, actually." He admitted. 

Your thumb rubbed across his stomach in smooth lines back and forth, "I will be with you every step of the way."

"That's part of what makes it all so terrifying." The vampire whispered, "Sometimes, I know that I couldn't do any of this without you by my side. But other times... when Ketheric turned into that thing, that abomination, with you looking so small in front of him..."

"I know." 

Astarion moved his head so he could look at your face, "You were right though." 

"Hmmm?" You hummed. 

"This is nice. Gods, when did I get so soft?" He chuckled, the movement of his chest vibrating your head until you joined him. 

Both of your faces were etched with bliss and contentment as you laid in the bed. On this bed where before he had laid awake, willing himself to fall into a trance, convincing himself to keep his distance from you, trying to protect himself from the inevitably of you. 

Now, you both fell asleep like that, still in your regular attire, wrapped in each other's arms with your head buried on his chest.

The stars caressing their moon. 

• • •

The journey towards Baldur's Gate was turbulent and nerve-wracking while also... hopeful. 

The group was buzzing with energy — the anticipation of returning to Baldur's Gate had made some of your companions restless in more ways then one. 

You were all sat for a short rest, relaxing in a patch of long, green grass just off of the dirt road you were traveling on. It was just your group now, the other parties and groups had begun moving at different paces and times until it was just your familiar companions now. 

Astarion was laid out in the grass, his head resting on your lap and your fingers absent-mindedly playing with his soft, white tresses. His eyes were closed, basking in the glow of the sun that was set high in the sky at this time of day. Occasionally the shadows on his face would bounce as his long lashes flickered, opening his eyes to glance at you with a dreamy expression on his face. 

It made your movements stutter each time you noticed it. But the grip he had on your heart — that was steady and true. He had possessed you in a way you still could not articulate, even all these weeks later. 

But you blinked back to reality as Gale's voice broke the silence. "You're a beautiful couple." 

You looked up, a sheepish smile spreading across your face from being noticed. Astarion craned his neck, his red eyes rolling back to look at the wizard before settling back into your lap with a disinterested look crossing his face. 

"Oh, I'm sorry... I'm made things awkward, haven't I?" Gale mumbled, his hands twirling with the blades of grass in front of him. 

You couldn't help the blush that was spreading across your cheeks at the attention. Especially as you realized the rest of your companions were looking over with small smirks. 

Gale continued as you remained silent, "I just meant that... Well, its nice to see my friends so happy. That's all." 

"Thank you, Gale." Astarion drawled, readjusting himself so he laid deeper on your lap. 

The wizard blinked in surprise, "You're welcome. Are you — is it a secret, or?"

"Not a secret, no." The vampire purred with a shake of his head. 

"We are just taking our time." You finished, a soft smile growing on your face to match the one spreading across Astarion's. 

"Hmm, that's nice." Gale trailed off, a wistful expression on his face. 

Before the silence could really settle in again, the rest of the party started a conversation up. 

"Won't be long now until we get to Baldur's Gate." Wyll said, his face hard to read. 

"Are you nervous?" Karlach stretched her long leg, nudging him in the ankle playfully. 

His mouth scrunched and nose crinkled, "I... I don't know how to feel."

"I can't fucking wait! I'll be able to show you guys my old stomping grounds!" The barbarian said excitedly, falling back dramatically into the grass with her limbs spread wide. She addressed you, shouting up to the blue sky, "What about you, Giggles? Excited to see home again?"

"Oh," Your fingers froze, hovering over Astarion's hair. "I had only lived in the city for just under a year. Home will always be in the north."

"The north? I don't think I've heard you speak of your home much." Shadowheart asked quietly, a quizzical look on her face. 

"I, yes— near the Ice Spires." Your mouth twitched.

"You hail from a noble line, yes?" Gale asked. Everyone was eyeing you with curiosity, even Astarion still stretched out on your lap. His red eyes shifting slightly as he studied you. 

You swallowed, painting on a polite smile before speaking, "My father is a Viscount. He is a formidable figure in the region." 

"Ah." The warlock grimaced, his eyes sad. "Why do I get the feeling our stories are more similar than I realize?"

You bristled. "I'm not exiled or anything... It's just been some time. That's all."

"That's all?" 

A humorless laugh escaped you, "I am a second born child. And my older brother is much more obedient and better suited to the game of politics than I am." You couldn't help the sad, bitter smile that spread across your face. The thought of home stung in more ways then one. 

Astarion noticed how tense you had become, his hand squeezing your knee as he pushed himself up with a dramatic huff. "We are never going to get to the city if we sit here lounging all day." 

You shot him a grateful look, and he gave you the slightest nod in recognition as he offered his hand to lift you up. He did so easily, brushing off blades of grass lingering on you both gently. 

"You were the one complaining not long ago about how long we had been walking for!" Gale said, sounding completely exasperated as Wyll helped him up.   

"Me? I said that? I don't think so." The rogue playfully scoffed, shaking his head so his soft curls bounced dramatically. He looked over his shoulder at you with a conspiratorial smile before stretching his hand out for you. His fingers intertwined with yours easily as he pulled you along the dirt path, away from the questioning and burning curiosity of the rest of the party. 

• • •

Your group finally settled down for the night — picking a small clearing just off of the well-worn, dirt path you had been traveling down. Perhaps the last time you would be sleeping in the wilderness. You would be at Wyrm's Crossing by midafternoon tomorrow. 

Astarion had set up your tent on the edge of camp, attempting to give you both some sense of privacy from your busybody companions. He knew they meant well, that they hadn't meant for this afternoon to turn into an interrogation. That, like him, they were just curious to know more about you. As kind and good you were to all of them, you were still somewhat of a mystery. You had revealed the origins of your powers to the group yes, but you rarely spoke about yourself or your home.

Not even to him. 

The vampire had been content to let it lie. He knew it would come with time — and he certainly couldn't make any demands of you. Not after how gracious and patient you had been with him. But he couldn't deny that part of him wanted to know more. Astarion had somehow become an open book with you — revealing and exploring parts of himself that he had buried down so deep that he was surprised he could find them. 

He worried that it all had been about him for so long. His trauma, his past, his goals. That maybe you had kept parts of yourself hidden away, on the back burner for him. 

You had your back turned to him at the moment, the golden flickering of the candles in the tent illuminating the curve of your spine and freckles across your bare skin. Your muscles stretched and tensed beautifully as you lifted your arms over your head —pulling your nightclothes over yourself as you changed in the corner. It was a boundary that was set much earlier, that he had slowly started making less and less strict. 

He wasn't ready for anything more yet — he knew that. But his red eyes couldn't help but roam your figure. He couldn't help the familiar sensation of want twisting low in his stomach, the twitch of his fingers at his side as he imagined running his fingertips over your soft skin again.  

The smile you gave him as you turned around was dazzling, even in the dim light and tight space of the shared tent. You joined him cross-legged in the center of the tent, both of you not quite ready to go to sleep just yet. 

He picked at his nail for a moment, trying to seem nonchalant as he opened his pink mouth to speak. "So... the Ice Spires?"

You raised a single eyebrow, a hard to read look crossing the rest of your features. "Yes?" 

His fingers continued to fidget in front of him. "It's cold... all the time?"

"Not all the time. Our winters can be brutal though." You said with a scrunched nose. 

"Oh, what a lovely sell. I can't wait to go now!" He said sarcastically. 

"Ha." You laughed dryly, before your voice turned wistful. "It's beautiful honestly... I miss it."

The vampire studied your face as you undoubtedly saw visions of your home in your mind's eye. The edges of his lips curved up as he remembered your promise to take him there one day. He broke you out of your daydream with a quiet cough before he spoke again, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. But why did you leave there, darling?"

Your eyes flashed to the floor of the tent, your mouth forming a hardline. "Promise me you won't be upset?" Your voice was barely a whisper. 

His eyebrows furrowed together at your reaction. He took two fingers, dipping them under your chin so you would look up at him. "Why would I be upset? You leaving home for whatever reason is why you are here now. With me."

Your eyes softened with his answer, before you nodded. Yet you still licked your lips nervously before speaking, "Well... you know that Selûne told my mother I would be destined for a different path then the life of nobility. My mother agreed to it all those years ago, both my parents knew and yet... they still hoped they could reel it all back in. That enough etiquette and language lessons would shape me into the perfect child they hoped I would be. But it was never me. I tried for them, I really did. Instead I started to fantasize about the people in our history lessons like they were characters in a book, and I spoke too loud and laughed at the wrong moment at dinner." 

Astarion couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he imagined you as a child — your face round and soft with innocence, your brilliant smile with missing teeth. The havoc that you would have caused, racing down wealthy halls as you acted out scenes from your books and danced in an empty ballroom with your melodic laugh echoing in the space. A piece of himself he had long forgotten about twinged inside him. He couldn't remember his own childhood anymore — it was lost to the last two hundred years of darkness. But something warmed in him as he dreamed up what yours was like. 

He snapped back to reality as you spoke again. "But I had a duty. I'm the second born, I wasn't being primed to one day take over for our father and run the keep, but I could be used in other ways. I've known of it since I was twelve."

His white brows furrowed again, "Known what?"

"When I became of age I would be married off to secure wealth and political ties with other territories. I'm engaged... technically." You admitted. 

His eyes dropped immediately to your fingers, the several jewels that adorned them from the moment he met you. He had never thought anything of them — thinking they were an artful display of rings that matched your personality and appearance well. But there it was — a golden ring of much higher quality then the rest, with a large ruby sitting in the center of it. Gods, how had he missed that. 

"Oh my gods. I'm a homewrecker." Then he burst out laughing, his head thrown back and his hands holding his stomach as he howled.

"Astarion, you'll wake up half the camp!" You leaned forward and hissed. 

"I'm sorry, I just —" He let out between gasps of breath, "It's so funny. Of course the person I fall for is to be wed to someone else."

You joined his chuckles, shaking your head. "It is like a cliché plotline from some terrible drama."

"It is! Or like a punchline to some joke. Did you hear the one about the vampire and the fiancé?" You both laughed for a moment, before he clutched onto your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  

"So you aren't upset?" Your voice a whisper again, uncertainty flooded every word. 

"Upset? Darling, why would I be upset?" 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, "Astarion, I just told you I am betrothed to another person."

"And you are on the other side of the continent from them. Not married. And sitting in my tent. Is this why you left?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Yes, we planned it all out actually— my betrothed and I." 

"Really?"

You nodded, "They had also spent the last years troubling over it, attempting to delay it for as long as possible." 

"I'm assuming getting kidnapped by mind flayers was not apart of that plan?" He said with a smirk. 

"Definitely not. I so badly wanted to travel, to see the world outside of our keep I'd known my whole life. So... they insisted to my family that they needed a spouse that was learned and well-traveled. That I could enroll in a college to become a more suitable match."

Astarion raised a white brow, "And that worked?"

"It did. I think my father was so desperate for it all to work out that they just agreed."

"And how did you attending a college lead you to Baldur's Gate so many miles away from home?" 

You let out a dry chuckle, "I will say that I did go to the college like I intended. I lasted a week. Just long enough to purchase supplies and stationary from the college before paying for a spot on the next wagon out of Silverymoon." 

"Stationary?"

"I've been sending letters home for the past year, using stationary from the college so my family believes I'm still there studying and being a model citizen." 

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his lips. "I'm impressed. That's very conniving... I didn't know you had it in you."

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'll admit it was a clever idea. I ran out of supplies about a month before the Nautiloid." 

He pursed his lips as he finally understood, "They haven't heard from you since then?"

You shook your head, "No. I imagine my father has sent some of his men to check on me, and they have long discovered that I took back my tuition deposit and left months and months ago." 

"This whole time we were worried about a vampire master storming our camp, when really it could have been a disgruntled father or worried mother finding us?"

A large exhale left your nose as you shook your head, "Oh, my father would never come himself. He would just send his second-best men and a strongly worded letter ordering me back home. My mother though... I can only imagine how she betrayed and worried she feels." 

The vampire squeezed your hand again before running his thumb along the backs of your knuckles. "Why did you never tell me this?" 

"Astarion, the hardship and abuse that you went through...," Your eyes shined with pain, "My story is nothing compared to yours."

"Your story is not nothing." He shook his head, his voice earnest. "Your story is you — and you are everything. Never spare parts of yourself from me." 

"Even the messy parts that years of etiquette lessons couldn't train away?"

He let out a breathy laugh before smiling at you, "Especially those parts, my lovely moon." 

"You have gone soft on me, Starry." You teased before matching his smile. 

• • •

After another day of travel, you stood in the abandoned castle in Wyrm's Crossing, bracing yourself on the stone wall. The skyline of Baldur's Gate could be seen from here, the distant sound of the bell's ringing heard even from here. 

Your party had finally made it — after all of these weeks. You would walk the familiar cobblestone streets of Baldur's Gate tomorrow. The familiar scents and sounds of vendors and citizens, the bustle and crowds would be so different from the wilderness and forests you had been traveling through. 

The group's energy was buzzing as you settled for camp in the abandoned castle — a strange mixture of excitement and nerves. Astarion hadn't hidden his feelings with you — his anxieties and insecurities surfacing with every step closer and closer to the city limits. With every step closer to Cazador and his ritual. Hundreds of different ideas were bouncing around his head, you could tell. 

Yet your confession to him last night was still replaying in your head, especially as your stared at the ring on your left finger — the red gem catching the light. You weren't sure why you wore it anymore. A habit, you guessed. 

The sound of purposeful, shuffling feet announced that you were no longer alone. Craning your neck you looked over to see the man who normally consumed your thoughts, climbing the stone steps that led up to the falling apart battlements you stood on.

"What are you doing up here, darling?" 

"Just taking a moment."  You admitted as you loosed a heavy breath. "And you?"

"Oh, just over pretending to be interested the idle chat by the fire." Astarion waved his hand, before sliding in next to you. He braced his elbows onto the edge looking out over to the skyline. You watched him take a deep steadying breath, his eyebrow crinkled with worry for a moment. 

You fiddled unconsciously with the golden ring on your left hand as you watched him. The movement caught the vampire's attention, his red eyes snapping to it before looking up at you. He chewed the inside of his lip, before speaking, "Can I ask you a question?"

Your stomach tightened with sudden nerves, "Of course."

"This wedding... Your arranged marriage." 

"Hmm?" You hummed. 

His pale throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Would you have gone through with it? If there was no Nautiloid, no tadpole — none of this. Would you have gone through with the arrangement?"

A heavy sigh escaped you as you pushed your elbows off of the stone edge and stood up, "I would have... I would have tried. It felt inevitable before — inescapable."

He shifted around, so he was facing you — standing to his full height and looking you in the eyes. "And now?" He whispered, his long fingers reaching to brush the insides of your wrist lightly.

"Astarion... I never could have imagined any of this. I spent my whole life fantasizing and daydreaming of an escape and grand adventure. Nothing I've dreamed up has ever come close to being with you. I have fought mind flayers and ogres, refused Gods and marched across the country so that we can keep going. So that we can have a chance. I will take my father's disappointment and wrath for ruining his plans for financial security." 

"Heh — We can add him to the list of people we've angered along the way." He joked, but his eyes were glimmering with unspoken emotion after your declaration. 

You studied the handsome man before you, your lips parting slightly as you took him in. He was radiant in the moonlight, his white hair and pale skin shining. The way his usually sharp eyes softened and rounded as he looked at you.

Gods, you loved him. You had known for sometime now that you did. The words had been crawling up your throat, lingering on your tongue and swirling in your mind for days. But you would be patient for him. 

One side of his pink mouth turned up, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Your head cocked to the side, "Like what?"

"You..." He seemed like he was at a loss for words for a moment. He shook his head at himself, before he admitted in a whisper, "They way you look at me... you make me feel like I'm poetry."

"You are, Astarion." You said simply. Courage suddenly flooded through you. You knew you would be fine, no matter how he answered. You wouldn't dare rush him. But you wanted to ask tonight. "May I — May I kiss you?" 

He blinked in surprise before his red eyes flicked down to your lips and he unconsciously licked his own. Then he locked eyes with you, nodding breathlessly. "Yes," He whispered back, his long lashes fluttering. "Yes."

Moving your hands up slowly and gently, your fingertips gripped the side of his strong jaw. You heard his breath sharpen as you moved your face to meet his — slowly, giving him time and space, allowing him to change his mind and pull away. But he didn't. Instead his eyes closed softly, his head tilting towards yours as he waited for you to kiss him. Then your lips locked as your mouth pressed softly against his, carefully as you waited to see if he would kiss you back. A low noise escaped you as you felt his lips press harder against yours, returning the kiss. 

You had long thought of your first kiss with Astarion in the woods near the Druid's Grove all that time ago. You thought you had memorized the sweet taste of him on your lips, the scent of leather lingering from his armor and groans that made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

But this — this was so different. Not practiced, not ritualistic like he so often said. 

This new first kiss was so painfully soft and tender. He tasted like wine, rosemary and honey. His hair softer then you remembered as your finger toyed with the curled tips at the base of his neck. The happiest of sounds escaped him as he parted his lips for you, allowing you to deepen the kiss as your tongue slid across his teeth. You both stood like that for a moment, relishing in the feeling until you both felt dizzy. Your lips stuck together slightly as you pulled away. His forehead was pushed against yours, like he was no longer content to not be touching you. 

Astarion's eyes were ablaze in the moonlight as he looked at you, his mouth falling open as he caught his breath. "Again. Kiss me, again.” “Starry?” You asked, your brow twitched. “Kiss me. Please. I miss it, I've missed you." One of his hands gripped the tip of your chin as you moved your mouth back towards him, halving the movement as he pulled you back in for another kiss. The other intertwining with yours in between you, squeezing your fingers gently. 

His sharp teeth dug into your bottom lip, causing a shudder to run down your spin. "Slow down, my love." Your groaned out.

"I have — weeks of this — to catch up on." His voice was breathless and he continued to interrupt his own words as he pressed lips to yours over and over. 

You pulled away, studying his face — the skin around his mouth pink from kissing, a slight flush crossing his complexion. But his eyes were fixed on you, filled with want and need. "I'm not going anywhere, Astarion. We have time." 

"Good. " He beamed, resting his forehead on yours again as you both breathed each other in. The two of you silhouetted on the crumpling battlements as you held on to each other for a moment longer.  

Read Part VI here

#bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #astarion/reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion

[thedoctorsthings]

Power to the king | MYG chapter 3.

Okay change of plans. Drama is coming next chapter. I thought it was time to give our characters a moment to feel good, so enjoy some fluff. and yes, hnefatafl is a real ancient scandinavian game, look it up.

content warning: none

fluff, idiots in love (they have no idea), a bit of angst as well because i'm still me.

wc: 4,1K

It's been a few weeks since the king’s outburst. The morning after when you were mulling over the night before over breakfast, you remembered something his father had said. In the moment you hadn’t really noticed because you were too busy being angry over what the king had said to you, or more correctly, about you. He had said that the reason you hadn’t been blessed with child was something Yoongi did. Since this realisation you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. What could that mean? What had Yoongi done that would be able to call the wrath of the gods over him? He wasn’t the nicest person, that was for sure, but he didn’t seem like a man to commit war crimes or something along those lines. You decided you would ask the one person that might answer.

You knocked on his doors: “come in”, his youthful voice sounded. You pushed open the door as quiet as possible. You didn’t know why, there was no reason to be quiet, but something about this castle made you feel like you had to. Every person here seemed to be walking on eggshells constantly. “Ah, my princess, or maybe I shouldn’t say ‘my’. I might cause our future king to throw a hissy fit”. “Good morning, your highness”, you laughed. Jungkook got up from the desk he’d been sitting at. He turned to the window and pointed: “I think there’s a fox’ nest in front of my window. I’ve got half a mind to steal one of the cubs to keep as a pet”, he smiled. “I don’t think the mother would just let you get away with that”, you said while peering out the window to catch a glimpse of the nest. “I can fight”, Jungkook retaliated. “I’d have to take her side Jungkook, a mother shouldn’t have to give up her children for your pleasure”, you tease the young prince. “alright, alright missy, why are you here?” You laugh at the nickname: “I have a question”. “shoot”. “A few weeks ago, at dinner when your father got angry because I’m not pregnant yet, he said something about something Yoongi did. He said it’s the reason we don’t have a child yet. What was that about?” Jungkook’s face darkened and for a second there was nothing left of the funny, joking Jungkook you had come to know. “I can’t tell you that story, it’s not my place”. You didn’t really know what to say to that so you just waited. The seriousness of his words hung between you two. “If you really want an answer you should ask my mother, besides I’m too young to really remember”. You nodded and lest the room.

Outside Jungkook’s door you nearly bumped into your husband who had apparently been standing quite close to the door. “What were you giggling about in there? I could hear you from across the hall”, he says with his cold voice. When you look up into his eyes you expect to see anger, but instead you’re met with a soft sort of concern. “I could ask you what you were giggling about with that maid as well”, you snarled before walking away. Yoongi sighed. He was starting to fear you would never get past this. He knocks on his brother’s door, but doesn’t wait for an answer before barging in. “What was that about?” Jungkook barely looks up: “she just had some questions about the castle, don’t worry about it”.

That night after dinner you decide to visit the queen. From you limited conversation with Yoongi you had learned that the queen slept until noon and then went to bed past midnight. You had barely spoken to the queen, except for one time on your wedding day, but that day had gone by in such a haze that you barely remembered what her face looked like. You knew she had poor health, that her bones were frail and her skin thin. She spent her days inside and in her bed. You complained about being stuck, but you could barely stand to imagine being married to the king and having to stay in bed all day. It sounded like torture. At dinner you had already been even less at ease than you normally were, but now that you were standing in front of her door you felt like your knees might give out any moment. You took a deep breath and knocked on the thick wooden door. It took a while for an answer to come and in the mean time you noticed the door was decorated with beautiful woodcarving. The scene was a that of a mother bear and her cubs. Finally a weak voice called: “come in”. You slowly walked into the room. The queen was laying on her bed leaning on a dozen pillows. Her silky black hair cascaded over them like a lake in the moonlight. The moon shone over her face through the window and it gave her a ghostly look. She looked like one gust of wind might carry her out of the window and send her floating into the sun. years later you would be telling your children this really happened.

“Ah, my daughter in law, how nice to finally meet you. Properly at least”, she smiled at you, and you felt all the tension leave your body. How could such a soft woman be married to such a beast. She gestured to the wooden chair next to her bed and you sat down. “You’re a beautiful girl, how is my son treating you?” She looked so much like Yoongi it was uncanny. You should probably count yourself lucky that he didn’t look this much like his father. However, the answer to her question was hard to find. For a moment you stared at the stone floor before the queen answered for you. “He’s not the most loving husband, is he? I know my son”. You looked up and smiled at her: “No he’s not, but I find it hard to describe him”. After this a torrent of words came flowing out of you. You told her about everything you had been through with Yoongi. How he had treated you, how you had treated him and about the maid. At the story of the maid her face contorted into a scowl: “I should teach that boy some manners, he’s been under the influence of his father too much since I’ve gotten sick”. At the end you had arrived at that night a couple weeks ago. When the king had lashed out at you for not being pregnant yet. When you asked your question about what Yoongi had done the queen was quiet for a long while. “Yoongi had an older brother once. He was only a year older and when they four and five years old we went on a picknick outside the castle. We were eating close to a river, a river with wild currents. They were playing and I lost sight of them for only a minute, one minute to change our lives forever. I don’t know exactly what happened because Yoongi was only four and too shocked to be able to tell the story clearly, but from what I know, Yoongi had pushed his brother. It wasn’t on purpose, but that didn’t matter. It was hard enough, my oldest son fell into the river and never came out. Minjun was his name. My husband found the perfect heir in him. He was strong and loud like him, when he lost him that meant he had to settle for Yoongi as his heir. The quiet frail son he would rather forget and hide forever. I don’t think the king ever really loved Minjung. He just wanted to shape him into a younger version of him. After that day the kind turned harsh and angry. That in its turn made Yoongi cold and harsh as well. It’s not his fault, but I can’t seem to get that through to him”.

The queen’s face had turned grey while telling this story. It pained her and you felt guilty for making her relive it. “I’m sorry that I asked, I know this must not be easy to tell”. “It’s alright child, someone would have to tell you some day, and I’d rather I do it than my son”. You let the story sit in between you for a minute. You heard the crackling of the fire in her room and an owl warned intruders on his territory.  “I know my son isn’t the easiest, but I think he could open up if you give him time”.  You knew this was true, but you were so tired. Life in this castle was so exhausting and having a husband that would barely look at you didn’t make anything easier. “I don’t know if I have the skill to make that happen. Your majesty, I’m so tired”. Finally admitting this out loud loosened something in you and before you could stop yourself you noticed tears had started to stain your cheeks. The queen looked at you with an expression full of compassion. “I’m sorry, that this place has been so hard on you. I know exactly what you’re going through. This marriage was set up by the king and I’m begging you, don’t let him get to you. Don’t let that man kill you like he did me. Don’t give up, don’t let this place take the life from your eyes. It gets easier if you just give him time. Soon my daughter will come back from her education abroad and you’ll have another woman around. From day one I hoped that you would do what I couldn’t, staying strong”. You simply nodded and let the queen hold your hand for a while longer. It felt so good to finally feel cared for again. To be able to open up was something you didn’t know you needed so bad.

Instead of going straight back to your rooms after leaving the queen you decided to take a detour through the gardens. You needed time to think. The queen’s words had given you some semblance of hope. She says Yoongi could be warmed up to you, and who would now him better than his own mother? But this would require you to be nice to him, and you weren’t sure you were ready for that. He had been sneaking of with that maid, and who knows how many more there were that you didn’t see. You walk on the moonlit path between the flower bushes. As you run your hand over some flowers your mind is going a thousand miles an hour. He had humiliated you, isolated you and forced you to never show how you felt. The queen had made another good point however, this marriage wasn’t Yoongi’s idea. It had been set up by his father who you now know to have not an ounce of compassion for your husband, or anyone else for that matter. It was true that Yoongi was a man and could thus never feel as trapped as you, but he could just as well be burning with rage towards this whole ordeal. Living with a father who never forgave you for accidentally sending the brother you could never live up to into an early grave couldn’t be an easy life. When you arrive at the big oak tree you’ve made your decision. You would try to be kinder again, invite him to do things with you, and maybe even open up about your old life. If there was anything that could be done to make this life easier you would try. You might even find an ally in your husband. You could fend of his father together.

You had been standing at under the huge tree for a while when you heard an alarming sound. the sound of something heavy sweeping through the air accompanied by grunts and uneven breathing made the air in your lungs halt. You slowly round the tree, careful not to make a noise. The origin of the sounds is no other than the king. All on his own he seemed to be fighting invisible enemies, swirling his heavy sword through the air in a fury, while standing in the empty temple a couple of metres from the tree. His majesty lunges for the stone pillars one by one. He seems to be in a haze, his face contorted in genuine anger. What could possibly be the point of this? The strange sight had left you frozen in your tracks. That was until the king abruptly looked you right in the eye. You turned as quick as the wind and ran back to your rooms as quietly as you could. Although something told you that man had not seen you. He had looked right through you. You had never seen that look in a person’s eyes. There was something chilling about the empty rage you had just seen.

The next morning you wake up tired. After mulling over the possible reasons for the king’s behaviour you had finally fallen asleep, but your peace didn’t last long. Countless dreams of Yoongi pushing his brother in the river had kept you up. You had dreamt the same thing so many times that after a while it was you pushing Yoongi in the river.  You shook the sleep from your eyes and got ready for breakfast. Once you’ve taken your seat in the rough wooden chairs of the dining table you eat in silence like every day. While the king rambles about possible conflicts that could cause war you look out the huge windows of the dining table. They look out on the courtyard and on good days they bathe the cold room in sunlight. This day Yoongi is enveloped in a beam of light, and it makes him look even more hauntingly beautiful than normal. When you’re staring at your husband Jungkook speaks up. “I’m going to pick up our sister at the port today. I thought that maybe Y/N could come with me. It will be good for her to be seen among the people again”. You perk up at this idea. Every day since the festival you have yearend to walk outside of these walls again. The king barely acknowledges the suggestion and just lazily waves a hand at Yoongi, signalling that this is his decision to make; obviously not yours, you think to yourself. Yoongi stays unmoving for a second before saying: “You’re right Jungkook, that would be a good idea”. It comes out through a clenched jaw, and you don’t miss the way his hands grip his knife a bit tighter. This was getting frustrating. If he was so upset by you doing things with Jungkook then why didn’t he try to spend time with you. Did he just want you to sit patiently, doing nothing all day? Jungkook looks at you expectantly and you chirp: “I would love to meet your sister”.

You’re sitting in a carriage with Jungkook on your way to the port, and the people have been flocking together in the streets to watch you go. Jungkook had decided on an open carriage because the people had not seen the royal family in a while, and he felt they needed to seem accessible. On top of that they had not seen the princes for several months, since she had spent the winter in a far away castle, being thought how to behave like a princess. Apparently, she had had some trouble being the perfect polite princess. You had decided you liked her the minute Jungkook told you this. You wave at the people and one of them even calls your name. You’re surprised they even knew it. When you arrive at the wharf where the princess’ ship is docked the guard helps you out of the carriage. You had picked up somewhere that his name was Namjoon, he was one of the robust men you’d ever seen and normally he exclusively guarded the king, but this was apparently important enough for the king to send out one of his personal guards. Guarding the king was a great honour and as apposed to the regular guards this position could only be taken by young men of noble blood. There were two king’s guards. Namjoon’s counterpart was a friendly looking man named Hoseok.

 You thanked him and positioned yourself next to Jungkook as you waited for the princes to ascend from the ship. She appeared, accompanied by two guards and it was as if the sun shone a bit brighter. By Odin the genes in this family, they certainly did not come from the king. She gracefully walked down the plank with a serious expression on her face, but after standing in front of Jungkook for a second her face broke into a smile. “Jungkook, I’m so happy to see you!”, she exclaimed while pulling him into an enthusiastic embrace. Jungkook laughed and directed her attention towards you. “Sister, we sent you a message that Yoongi had gotten married a couple months back, I know, we didn’t think it was possible either. This is your new sister-in-law. She looks at you, smiling, and then reaches out to kiss your cheeks. This was a standard greeting in your kingdom, but no one had done it to you in so long that it almost felt foreign. “You have to tell me everything about yourself”, the princess said as she was being helped into the carriage. And so, you did. You and her talked so much on the way back that Jungkook barely managed to get a word in.

Yoongi was sitting at his desk, brooding. Not that he normally did something different, but he was brooding harder than ever. His wife was out welcoming his sister with his brother. Yoongi was sure that you liked spending time with Jungkook a million times more than you did with him. Yoongi had a wife and she hated spending time with him, and the worst part was, no one would blame you. He wouldn’t want to spend time with him either. If he had been married away to some cold, moody man in a different city he would be pissed of all the time too. Especially if that stupid man couldn’t keep it in his pants long enough to wait for him. He beat himself up over it every day. Why did he think it was a smart idea to run off with a maid. He had a wife for god’s sake and patience. He could easily have waited until you were ready, but life in this castle was so damn lonely. He had made a habit out of fooling around with staff. Not being touched by anyone since the tender age of 11 had had its toll on him, although he would never admit it. Now he was sitting here, with a wife but still alone, getting pissed of while she was of with his much more charming brother.

“Are you trying to rip of the arm rest of your chair?”, Jungkook had barged in, without knocking, of course. “Yes, I was hoping to use it to swing at you”, Yoongi said while taking his hand of the arm rest, which he had previously been gripping tightly, lost in thought. “Oh, look who woke up with a sense of humour this morning”, Jungkook chuckled before stepping further into the room. “Our sister is back. I told her to wait in the reception hall, but I’m not sure how long Y/N can hold her of”. He had barely uttered his sentence or there she was, shining in his doorway. Yoongi broke into a smile, the first real one in many months. He stood up, seconds before being engulfed in an overwhelming embrace. “Yoongi!”, his sister exclaimed while jumping in his arms. “I see they didn’t teach you appropriate greetings at that school”, he smiled. By Odin, he loved his sister. “I did very well and polite meeting your wife earlier, Jungkook tell him I did very well meeting his wife”. “She did very well meeting Y/N” So now Jungkook was calling his wife by her first name?

Later that day dinner was livelier than ever. Don’t be mistaken, the king still did very well taking down the princess’ cheer, but he never managed to get her completely quiet like he could with the rest of the castle’s inhabitants. You spend the whole evening talking to the princess and Jungkook. Yoongi, to his dismay, barely managed to say anything at all. This wasn’t because there was no time for him to force a word in. He simply didn’t know how to engage in chitter chatter like other people. Once again you were being brought to laughter by his brother instead of him, and this time there was a second sibling to prove to him how easy it was to talk to you.  When looking down at his dinner plate he made a decision. He was going to do better by you. He was going to ask you to spend time with him. He was going to ask about you and your past.

That night you’re pacing up and down your room. This whole day you had talked to people more than you ever had in this place. The arrival of the princess had made you realise something. You were capable of talking to members of this family and even form friendships with them. How much harder could Yoongi be. He was raised by the same parents. There must be something of the other two in him as well. After crossing the room a few more times you decided. You were going to his rooms and ask him to play the board game you knew he loved again. He had done accepted last time, and you were going to have to take a chance on something sometime. With all the confidence you can muster up you step to your door and resolutely open it. “Good evening”, you’re greeted by your husband’s chest. By the looks of it he had been standing unnaturally close to the door, and about to knock as well because his hand was still doltishly raised in a fist. He clears his throat before saying: “I was wondering if you wanted to play Hnefatafl again…tonight”. You take a moment to recover from the near heart attack you had just had before stuttering: “yes, yes I would”.

Once seated at your little table with the board in between you Yoongi asked: “Where were you going?” you hesitate a bit. “Uhm, to the bathroom”, you lied. After playing the game for a while in silence you decided you couldn’t take it anymore and had to say something. “Recently I visited your mother”. “Oh, what did you talk about?” Quick what was something you could’ve discussed with the queen that wasn’t as embarrassing as your crippling loneliness: “The festival and the druids’ vision”. “Of course, much to discuss on that topic”, was all Yoongi managed to get out. While he mentally cursed himself for his clumsiness you said: “When I was walking back to my rooms I ran into your father”. “Are you okay?”, Yoongi chuckled, only half joking. “I don’t think he saw me”, You left a moment of silence to look for the right words to describe what you had seen. “He was practising sword fighting I think”. “Let me guess. He was fighting air”. You looked up at him suddenly: “Yes exactly”. Yoongi sighed. “Don’t worry too much about it, he’s done it before. In fact, I’m not sure how much sanity he has left in that brain”. You played your turn before saying: “He looked at me for a moment. There was something in his eyes that shook me the core”. Yoongi looked you in the eye with a serious expression on his face. “Next time tell me. I want to make sure that man never puts his hands on you or inflicts any harm on you, and I can only do that if you tell me, the instant he does anything suspicious”. His words sent a warm feeling down your spine.

You had promised to tell him next time and a few moments later you had beat him in hnefatafl, so all in all a pretty good night. He got up and shook your hand. “That was a good game. I’ll have to come back tomorrow to restore my honour though”. You smiled: “I would like that”, and with that your husband left the room. That night you went to bed feeling good for the first time in months. There was no way for you to know, but the crown prince did the same thing.

@viankiss @lifeless-firefly @emerald-notes @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @jjkwifestyle

#bts #jimin #jungkook #namjoon #taehyung #yoongi #bts headcanons #jin #hoseok #bts fanfiction #bts historical au #bts fantasy au #fanfiction #bangtan #bts x reader #yoongi x reader

[dem1verse]

﹏ ❛ all you gotta do is call me.⠀⠀⠀äs nodt.

˖⁺ ⊹୨ ★ the one where you form a friendship with the malevolent enity.

content disclaimers ╱╱ gn!reader. young!reader. HEAVY religious trauma and themes. angst to comfort. vollstandig!äs nodt. mild body horror. wc: 830.

YOU HAVE (1) MESSAGE UNREAD !⠀⠀—⠀⠀“the 2nd halloween short of the month! this one may have been inspired by czs horror history analysis of the man who can't breath from insidious and i might have used my own religious trauma as a base for this. i wrote this with christianity in mind (mainly nigerian christianity). anyways, enjoy 💃🏾”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀YOU DON'T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME YOU PRAYED TO HIM.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀With the number of times you've been called an abomination before the eyes of the Almighty God, it's no surprise you'd see yourself as an unclean mix of flesh and blood who did nothing but wallow around. Sinner. Sodomite. Witch. Those were a few of many names that followed you around, hanging over you like a haunting veil of shame. Your relationship with your mother had always shown signs of strain, but you couldn't hate her. If anything, it was your fault for not being the ideal child, rebelling against the heavens. She was trying to guide you. Children of God don't act like this. Good children of God don't say that.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀God must hate me, you affirmed. The Lord God above would never approve of you. You swear he's looking down on you this moment, shaking his head in disappointment. Years and years of Christian sermons crept around in your mind, festering in your conscience. You'd be happy, they said. He's the only way, they said. You can depend on him. He'd be there when you called for him. Surely he'd comfort you in your darkest times. Where was he now? You silently cried out to the sky, tears already spilt and stained your cheeks, questioning your faith. That was the first time he showed up.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The second time he showed himself, you'd been jolted awake by a nightmare. You'd gone downstairs to grab a glass of cold water, leaving the sticky heat of your bed. As you opened the cabinet, you couldn't help but notice how cold it'd gotten, the frigid atmosphere making you shiver. That's when you saw it. The man in white. His long, brittle hair shone in the moonlight. His eyes were rolled at the back of his head, drawing tears of blood from his sockets. Your eyes widened in silent fear, shuddering at his appearance. He bore a long white cloak, a prominent and bloody stitch running from the middle of his throat to the bottom of the robe, revealing gory muscle and bone. And his mouth. His teeth were left in the open, lacking the protective soft appendages. His blue star halo hung on the top of his crown, shining brightly.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Your goblet had long hit the floor, bits of sharp glass scratching your feet and the floor. Your mother had caught wind of the incident, screaming at you for having broken such a fragile object. She ranted on, but you were too focused on the man standing behind her. Were your eyes deceiving you? Could she not see him? You silently went to your room, ignoring your mother's verbal vomiting and eager to forget the past event.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀By the time you saw him again, he spoke. You were alone, your mother leaving you home in favour of church service. You lay on your bed, feeling drained and sleepy. As you turned over on your back, you opened your eyes, only to be met with those same eerie scleras. You screamed, the apparition looming over you menacingly. Slowly, the man raised a pale, bony arm, and caressed your cheek, paying no attention to your crying and erratic movements. Being raised in a heavily prayerful home stuck with you, no matter who you grew up to be. You've always been taught to condemn the devil, resist temptation and you'd be blessed with favour and prosperity. Yet here you were, finding solace in a demonic entity. You soon stopped crying, the man's nurturing touch gradually lulling you to sleep.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀A fight with your mother was never pretty. Silence and dissociation were your sword and shield during those times. Heartbroken at her cruel words, you slammed your bedroom door, heaving and sobbing. The reason for my stagnation, she called you. Nothing could've prepared you for that moment, her mocking shattering your heart and breaking your resolve. Curling yourself up in a ball, you tried your best to give yourself the scarce bit of consolation you had left. Then you heard him. His heavy, raspy breathing. The only sound in your room besides your wailing. He extended his sickly white limb towards you. He took hold of you, his body no longer radiating the icy temperature. You felt like a baby in its mother's arms, the entity stroking your hair. He gave you the nurture and care you've been looking for this entire time. You were no longer going to look above for alleviation. God wasn't there for you when you needed him, so why call him again? On the other hand, the spirit held you in his grasp, emitting a sense of security.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀And in that moment, you came to an epiphany. You didn't whether you'd be thrown in hell or not, you could always count on the man in white to be there for you. Even when you were dead, and long gone, you could always count on him. You just had to call him.

DEMI'S POST-IT⠀❞⠀ok im actually kinda proud of myself for writing all of this in like, one night. i also may or may have not nearly started crying in the middle of writing this. i hope this helps somebody with some sort of trauma stemming from religion. kinda based this on my experiences in my life, the ending is kind of how im feeling currently.

template by @tinytowns! taglist: @ue-projectz

#彡﹒🎧﹒❪ 𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖍:𝖆𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖉𝖙 ❫ #bleach #as nodt #as nodt x reader #as nodt fluff #bleach x reader #꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝕾𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑²³ 𓂃 𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗶𝘇

[shimmerwindow]

I Never Really

Part Four

Warnings: heavy alcohol use, marijuana use, mentions of throwing up (no graphic descriptions)

Word count: 4.5k

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He pointed the house out to you, halfway down the block. It was small, with yellow siding and brown shingles. There was a porch adorned with white plastic chairs, and a hammock hanging from two support beams. An arm hung out the side of the hammock, the person inside slowly rocking themselves back and forth by pushing off the railing below them.

“Where is everybody?”

“People always show up late. I figured we could show up before most of the crowd gets here so you could meet the guys before they get too drunk.”

That was a blessing and a curse. You wouldn’t have to spend as much time making awkward conversation with strangers, but now you wouldn’t be able to avoid meeting his brothers. You feared you were getting in too deep too quickly. Together, the two of you walked up the concrete path to the house.

“Heyo,” he called in a low-pitched voice.

There was a rustling from the hammock, and a man emerged. “Hey, little guy!” He shouted, bounding across the porch to wrap an arm around Sam’s shoulder, to which Sam shot you an embarrassed look. “Jesus, haven't seen you in a week, Sammy. Did you get taller?” He rubbed his hand over Sam’s arm.

“Get offa me.” Sam laughed and brushed the man’s arm off his shoulder. “This is Josh. Older brother, if you couldn’t tell.” He introduced you, and you held your hand out for a handshake.

Josh gripped your hand with both of his, holding it at eye level, saying your name back to you in a dreamy voice. “So nice to meet you, love.”

“Likewise,” you smiled back.

Josh had an air about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and it wasn’t just the odor of weed hanging off of him. He had a mop of brunette curls that just barely dusted the base of his neck, and bangs that bounced with every move he made. His eyes were the same color as Sam’s, a gorgeous golden brown that shone in the sunlight. It was clear he and Sam were related when you looked at his features, though Josh was several inches shorter, only slightly taller than you.

“Is that Samuel?” A voice came from behind the screen door to the house.

“Is that Daniel?” Sam called back.

Josh let go of your hand as you turned to face the guy coming through the door. He smacked his fingers against the top of the door frame as he walked through, glancing between Josh, Sam, and yourself with a grin.

“Who’s this?” He motioned at you.

Sam told him your name, raising his arm like he was going to put it around your shoulder, but awkwardly setting it back down by his side. Thank god he didn't do that. “She’s a friend, from class. Met her on the roof. Bummed a ciggy off her.”

You let out a small laugh and smiled, recalling the memory fondly.

“I’m Danny,” he introduced himself, shaking your hand with a firm grip. His hands were heavily calloused and rough, but warm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shot a glance at Sam, who was giving him a pained look.

Danny laughed, waving a hand at Sam. “Nah, I’m just fuckin’ with him. I haven’t heard a thing about you. You look nice, though. I like that necklace.” He motioned a finger at your neck, where you wore a beaded necklace you’d made with a friend many years ago.

“Oh! Thank you!” You touched a hand to the beads. “I like your hair.”

Danny was tall, with long, gorgeous curls that were even longer than your own hair. It was pulled back into a half-up ponytail, the other half swept forward over his shoulders.

“Thanks,” he said, toying with a piece of his hair. “Grew it myself.”

You giggled a bit, fidgeting with your necklace. You’d been rather worried these guys would be unbearable, but they seemed like a wonderful group. But didn’t Sam say there were three of them?

Right on cue, you heard footfalls crunching on the leaves behind you, and a call of “aha!” in a low voice.

“That’s Jake,” Sam said to you.

Jake came around the corner and up onto the deck, a bottle of tequila in his hand. “Who’re you?” He asked, gesturing to you with the bottle.

Sam rolled his eyes and introduced you. “I told you I was bringing someone, man.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you.” Jake shook your hand, his fingers warm, and calloused, but gentle.

Jake looked remarkably similar to Josh, but with long, straight hair swept back from his face.

“So, you guys are…” you gestured between Sam, Jake, and Josh.

“Brothers,” Sam finished.

“I’m the oldest,” Josh said, pushing an arm against his brothers with a smile.

“By five minutes. He lets it go to his head." Jake held up a finger.

“They’re the twins. I’m just the little brother,” Sam said.

“Twins, huh.” You studied their faces, noticing they really did look identical.

The leaves in the yard rustled together loudly as a chilling wind whipped across the five of you. “Jesus, it’s cold out here.” You pulled your fingers into the sleeves of your sweater.

Jake held open the screen door to the house, gesturing everyone inside. “Shall we?”

The group filed inside, and everyone went about their business. The house was impressively clean for a place owned by three young guys, you thought to yourself. Immaculately decorated, too – like something straight out of the 70’s, but tasteful. The furniture looked vintage, but restored. Plants stood in every corner the light could reach, and a pothos was strung against the wall, circling the entire living room and disappearing into an adjacent room.

The place had a wonderful vibe. It felt cozy, but spacious, and the fireplace against the wall added perfectly to the overall feeling of warmth in the room. You took a seat on the couch, running your hands absently over the orange fabric. Sam sat near you, in a plush yellow recliner.

“Should we help them with anything?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder as the guys milled about the kitchen, talking amongst themselves. Josh was carrying a gigantic charcuterie board, Jake was putting together a drink station, and Danny walked past with a bag of charcoal over his shoulder.

“Nah.” Sam pulled out his phone, scrolling absently through something. “We’ll just get in the way.”

“So…do they, like, go to the school here? I’ve never seen any of them before, I don't think.”

“Nope. They just followed me down here.” He motioned to a guitar leaning against the stones jutting out from the fireplace. “They’re trying to get a little band off the ground. Did I not tell you any of this?”

“I guess we haven’t had many chances to talk.”

“Maybe if you didn’t sit at the back of the class every morning, we’d have a few more chances.” He looked up from his phone at you, narrowing his eyes with a smile.

Embarrassment crawled up the base of your neck. So he did know you had been avoiding him. “Well, maybe if you didn’t distract me the entire class, I could sit next to you.”

He raised his arms and made a face of mock confusion. “I didn’t even do anything!”

“You gnawed the shit out of the pen I gave you the first day you sat next to me, first of all.”

He laughed at that, running a hand over his face. “Sorry about that. I kinda forgot it was yours.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway!” He leaned towards you. “They’re trying to make me their bass player. I’m just trying to get this whole education thing done first, though.”

“You can play bass?”

He nodded. “Been playing for a bit now. I’m alright at it, I guess.”

“That's pretty sick.”

“I’d play you something, but Jake would end me if I touched his guitar.”

As if he'd heard Sam, Jake entered the room and picked up the guitar by the neck.

“That’s yours?” You asked.

Jake nodded. “Yes, she’s mine. Love her.” He disappeared behind you and you heard the stairs creak as he headed out of sight.

Over the next half hour, one by one, people started to file in through the door. Sam didn’t leave your side other than to stand up and give the occasional hug or handshake, and to grab a few beers, and in many ways you were grateful for that. The living room filled up quickly, your spot on the couch becoming uncomfortably close to some guy you’d never seen before. But Sam kept you entertained, keeping a conversation going between the two of you even as you grew increasingly more restless on the couch.

Jake came into the room at some point, sitting on the mantle of the fireplace and easily drifting into the conversation. You found your eyes drawn to him, he had something of a magnetic presence that couldn’t be ignored. You could just barely make out the outline of his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore, and how they caught your eye on more than one occasion.

You were being pulled by two potent forces, your attention divided between both Jake and Sam. Jake had barely said a word to you, yet his body language stayed pointed towards you, his head always coming back to rest in your direction. It was borderline overwhelming.

“You look like you need a drink.” Sam cocked his head at you, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’m not really a huge drinker.”

“I insist. Trust me. It’ll make all this…” he made a sweeping motion across the room. “A whole lot more enjoyable.”

One drink couldn’t hurt, you figured. “You’ve got a point.”

“Follow me.” He headed over into the kitchen and you followed close behind, dodging glances from the strangers in the room.

He mixed you something from a few bottles you couldn’t identify on label alone, handing the finished drink over to you with a flourish. “Your beverage, missus eclipse.”

His little nickname for you was so endearing you couldn't help but smile at it.

“Tell me what you think.” He looked at you eagerly as you brought the cup to your lips and took a sip.

Your face scrunched up at the taste – it tasted like pure liquor to your alcohol-abstinent tastebuds, but it was drinkable. “That sure is…a drink,” you rasped.

“Is it nasty? I can make another one!” His hands were already grabbing for a bottle and unscrewing the cap.

“No, it’s okay. Just strong.”

“We’re in college, the drinks are supposed to be strong.” He gave you a smile.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Hey, I just realized I never showed you, like, anything. You want a tour of the house?" He glanced through the arched opening into the living room. "It's getting a bit crowded in there."

“Sure.”

As you absently sipped at your drink, he walked you through the house, pointing out little pieces you would have never noticed on your own. The piano in the corner of the sitting room seemed like a point of personal pride for him – “I saved up for so long to buy this thing,” he told you. There were framed vinyls with art you didn’t recognize decorating many of the walls, some of them still in their plastic wrap. Rare relics, you figured. There were little touches of each of the guys throughout the house, small pieces that made you think of them.

He took you upstairs, pointing at the doors to each of the guy's rooms. They each had a small wreath of dried flowers pinned to the outsides.

“Did you guys make these?” You asked, inspecting one made of white roses. The stems had been immaculately bent and twisted together. You didn’t even know you could weave flowers together that way.

“Josh made them for everyone. That one’s his. He got really into the symbology of flowers for a bit and gave all of us a big bouquet of flowers he thought were ‘us’.”

“That’s so cute,” you smiled. Josh seemed like an incredibly thoughtful guy.

“This one’s mine.” He walked to the door at the end of the hallway. His was made of several different flowers you couldn’t name, but mostly sunflowers, their petals curled in on the centers. “I think it’s kinda ugly, but it's the thought that counts.”

“I think it’s beautiful.” You examined it closer, impressed with Josh’s craftsmanship.

A feeling of calm you hadn't felt in a while rushed into your head at the same moment he opened the door to his room – the alcohol was kicking in.

His room was decorated in a way you could only describe as maximalist. On every wall hung a poster or framed vinyl, shadow boxes with concert tickets and wristbands, and a corkboard by his bed full of polaroids and photos. There was a bass leaned up against his dresser, and an older-looking one hung on the wall. Despite the clutter of decor, his room was impeccably neat, left pristine while he was in the dorms.

“Here’s my place.” He made a grand sweeping motion towards the room.

“Why live in the dorms if you have a room here?” You asked, your eyes scanning over the walls.

“Easier commute. And easier to make friends, not that I do that very often. Plus I wanted the true college experience.”

“If I had a room like this, you could never get me to leave it.” You ran your fingers over the comforter on his bed. It looked incredibly cozy, a pattern of dark autumn colors.

“Really?” He looked at you, surprised. “I feel like it’s kinda…messy.”

“Not messy. Just cluttered. In a good way.”

You went around the room, pointing out little things that caught your eye and asking about them. He happily explained – that’s a rare vinyl, those are tickets from a show last year, that’s a poster of this movie I love. You listened to every word intently, taking it all in, just purely enjoying the sound of his voice and the many stories he had to tell. He was midway through a sentence when a shout came from the stairwell.

"Sammy boy!” It was Jake’s voice that echoed down the hallway. “You up there?”

Sam shot you a look, rolling his eyes with a grin and heading over to the top of the stairs.

“You fuckin’ up there or something?” Jake shouted. “Get down here and share a drink with me!” He sounded audibly drunk.

“Jesus, Jake, I was just giving her a tour. Have some couth!”

You were a bit embarrassed by the accusation, but laughed at it nonetheless, the alcohol dulling your sense of shame.

“My apologies, fair lady, I didn’t know you were up there!” Jake called when he saw you appear at the top of the steps.

The two of you joined Jake downstairs in the kitchen, where he poured each of you a shot of something – he wouldn't show you the bottle, and you weren't entirely sure you wanted to know what it was.

“It’s the finest in the land,” Jake assured you, in a boisterous British accent. He toasted you and Sam, “to new friends,” and you downed the shots.

“Sam!” You heard Danny’s voice from the back door, just as you were reaching for the sink tap to give yourself something to wash down that awful shot. “Come check this out.”

Sam looked between you and Jake for a moment, considering.

“I’ll be back,” he told you, setting his shot glass on the counter and following Danny outside, the two of them looking as happy as young boys about to go throw stones through glass windows.

“So, what’s your deal?” Jake asked, looking you over, his eyes wandering across your body in a way that made you suppress a shiver. “You guys have a class together or something?” He gestured in the direction Sam had gone.

You nodded, swallowing around the bitter taste still stuck in your mouth. “Germanic literature.”

“Sounds hard. Is he any good at it?”

You shrugged. “It’s more boring than anything else. He’s decent enough to have as a project partner.”

“Right.” He peered out the window and you followed his gaze. Sam and Daniel were poking and prodding at the fire with sticks, and it had grown considerably in size since the last time you saw it. “You from around here?”

“Nah, across the country. This was my dream school.”

Jake raised his eyebrows at you. “Dream school? I didn’t know anyone dreamed about education.”

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh. “I dream of the degree, not the everyday slog.”

“What’re you going for? Writing, I’m guessing?”

You nodded. “How’d you know?”

He dragged his eyes over your body again, but it didn’t creep you out in the way such a gesture normally would. He was genuinely admiring you, not gawking at you like you were a piece of meat – and the difference was crystal clear. “You look like a writer.”

“And what does a writer look like?” Your voice dropped a bit, entering a softer register.

He took a step closer, reaching for the bottles behind you, his hip brushing against yours. “Perfect.”

Your vision narrowed and your pulse quickened, your heart skipping a beat.

“Me?” You figured he must be talking about something else.

“Yes, you,” he scoffed, turning his head ever so slightly to catch your eye. “Look at yourself, girl.”

“It sounds a lot like you’re hitting on me, Jake.” You prayed those words came out sounding more confident than you felt at this moment.

“Would you be mad if I was?” He leaned a hand against the counter, giving you a cocky, self-assured smile that made you feel a bit weak.

Would you be mad? The alcohol had dulled your senses, and switched off the part of your brain that normally turned you into an anxious mess. You liked what was happening here, and you liked it a lot. Attention from men was not something you sought out willingly, typically. But when it was offered, especially from a man like Jake, sometimes you couldn't help but enjoy it.

You looked him over as he stared you down, your eyes drawn to his chest, his shirt held together by only the last few buttons and masterfully parted to show you just enough. Enough to make your mind start working, thinking of what it would feel like to run your hands across his soft, flawless skin, or how the necklaces he wore would hang as he–

As you opened your mouth to reply, the back door swung open suddenly and banged against the wall, the sound causing you to flinch as your head whipped in the direction of the commotion.

Sam’s head poked through the threshold, looking first left, then right, his eyes settling on you and Jake. You didn’t miss the way his smile faltered for a moment when he saw the two of you. He called your name, beckoning you over. “Smokin’ time. You want some?” He pointed a finger at Jake.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sam disappeared back out the door, and you moved to hurry after him. “I’ll catch you later,” you said over your shoulder, unable to look him in the eye.

Events passed by in a blur the moment the joint hit your system and started to mix with the alcohol. You swayed on your feet, but Sam kept you upright, sitting you down in a chair outside, where you would – to your knowledge – stay planted the majority of the night. Faces came and went, friendships were formulated on the spot with people you’d never seen before. Drinks were shoved into your hands and you readily gulped them down with no regard to how drunk you already were.

“What, I can’t let loose once every two years?” You slurred when Danny, who had sat across the fire from you, said you were looking rather hammered.

“You absolutely can, darling!” Josh, who was in the seat next to you, raised his own glass in agreement.

Josh had taken his own turn captivating your attention for a bit, and it was one of the only moments of the night that was clear enough to register as a memory in your mind. He grabbed both sides of your face, looking you over like a mother looks over their child.

“You are just so gorgeous, sunshine.” He was so close you could smell the liquor on his breath, but you didn't mind. Like his brothers, he was quite easy on the eyes, if not a downright treat to stare at. “Any man would be lucky to have you. If men are your thing, of course.”

You nodded into his hands. “Thank you, Joshy. They are my thing! Well, sometimes. They also suck.”

“Amen, dear!” He exclaimed, releasing his grip on you to take another sip of his drink. “That one, right there, though–” he pointed a finger behind you. You followed his gesture, your eyes locking with Sam’s. “He’s a good one. He doesn’t suck.” He leaned in a bit closer, lowering his tone so you could hear him. “Give him a chance, why don’t you? He needs a girl like you.”

“Josh!” Sam exclaimed; evidently, Josh hadn’t lowered his tone quite enough. “Cut it out, man, I just met the girl.” He gave you a sheepish smile, shaking his head. “He’s always trying to set me up with people, I swear.”

“Josh just wants everyone to get laid more,” Danny laughed from across the fire.

Josh threw his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Maybe I do! Sue me for wanting more passion in the world!”

You waved a hand at all of them. “I don’t have time for all that stuff anyway.”

“No time for love?” Josh asked, aghast.

“Oh, lord. Don’t say that around him, he’ll start a monologue about love,” Sam joked, poking a finger into your side.

“Maybe I wanna hear it, Sammy,” you poked him back.

“If I have to hear it one more time my head might explode.”

“Maybe you need more love in your life. Or passion, or whatever he said.”

“Maybe I do, but not everyone is so open to it right now.” He narrowed his eyes at you, like he was accusing you of something, but it flew right over your head in your drunken state.

The night devolved back into a colorful blur, punctuated by the occasional long goodbye of a partygoer saying their farewell before stumbling their way back to their dorm or house. You were struck by a kind of unexpected feeling of coziness, sitting with the brothers by the roaring bonfire. You could tell they didn’t expect you to leave, and you didn’t want to. Like they had already absorbed you as a member of their family, a sense of belonging warmed your core even better than the fire could.

Friendship had never been your forte. Gaining and keeping friends was a juggling act you’d never been skilled at pulling off, and you’d written it off for so many years that loneliness was the default most of the time. It didn’t hurt anymore, but the dull ache it left behind was melting away in the presence of these men. Like a switch had been flipped, just like that, you understood why your mother had lectured you about friends so many times. It was for the moments like these.

The vast majority of the party had left, only a few stragglers were still inside the house, searching for their keys or their coats. You and the twins sat in a peaceful silence around the fire while Jake plucked at his guitar – at what point he’d brought it out, you couldn’t quite recall. Sam had passed out in his bed, and Danny had vanished with some girl an hour ago.

You weren’t feeling well, the drinks still catching up with your cross-faded body. “I think I’m gonna go throw up,” you remarked to the twins, nearly falling over as you got up out of your chair. Jake’s playing stopped.

“You need me to hold your hair?” Josh got up alongside you, placing a gentle hand on your lower back as you hurried towards the house.

You waved him away, not trusting yourself to open your mouth right now. The next time your mind was conscious and present, you were on the bathroom floor, your arms hugging the sides of the toilet bowl as you tried to take deep breaths.

There was a soft knock at the door, followed by a voice calling your name. It was Jake. “You okay in there?”

You responded by flushing the toilet a final time, certain there could be nothing left in your stomach. You took your time cleaning yourself up, your gaze lingering on yourself in the mirror. You looked a mess by this point, and you'd gotten vomit on your sweater.

“Not this sweater,” you groaned.

“Got some on yourself?” Jake’s voice came from behind the door again, followed by a chuckle.

“Yeah. Fuck my life.”

“Don’t worry about it. Stay there.” You heard his boots on the hardwood walking away, returning a moment later. “Open up.”

You cracked the door, and he shoved a shirt through the gap. “Put this on.”

You didn’t even think twice about it before gingerly removing your shirt, and slipping on the one he’d given you. It bore the name of what you assumed to be some band – your vision was swimming so much you could barely read it. It felt heavenly, well-worn and a bit too large on you, and it smelled like him. Warm and spicy with a bit of vanilla, it smelled expensive.

You stumbled out of the doorway directly into his arms. He held you with a supporting hand under your biceps, your face mere inches away from his.

“You should probably lay down.”

You looked up at him with glassy eyes, mumbling a soft mhm in response.

“You can take my bed. I don’t want you out on the couch.”

“Thanks, Jakey.”

He guided you up the stairs and into his room, not bothering to turn the lights on as he showed you to the bed.

“Stay on your side,” he warned, holding up a finger. “And please try not to throw up in my bed.”

“I won’t,” you mumbled, pulling his comforter up to your chin, your eyes already slipping shut.

“Stay cozy, angel.” His words rang dully in your head as sleep claimed you quickly, before the light from the open door had even left the room.

#greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #i never really

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Aiden sighed as he settled back in the grass, basking in the midday sun whilst his horse grazed nearby. After almost a week of camping, he was pretty sure he only had a day, two at most before the Dyn Marv Caravan passed close enough for him to join the clowder for the winter. It was a trick all Cat’s picked up after a couple of years on the path and missed opportunities to go home because you were restless. Pick a stretch of road and hunker down until you hear the calls. They still liked to remind Schrödinger of the year he missed them because he got distracted by a pretty shepherdess and was helping her ‘tend her flock’, as it were.

He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes and started idly listing off the various birds he could hear. Something he’d always found calming. Wood pigeon; obviously. A blue jay, a couple of crows making a din about something further into the trees, a linnet.

He tensed when his sensitive ears picked up a distinctly human call. Somebody somewhere in the woods was singing. Aiden relaxed when it didn’t sound like they were getting any closer (further away if anything) before frowning. He couldn’t make out the words but from tone of voice alone it was apparent his mystery serenader was pissed. He winced in sympathy for whoever or whatever had earned such ire. His musings were interrupted by the sharp crack of wood breaking, followed by the singing rapidly turning into a shriek. He whistled 'stay' at his horse, hoping the flick of an ear was acknowledgment and not a fly before leaping to his feet and grabbing his swords before sprinting in the direction the noise had come from.

The groans of pain and multiple (very creative) curses were both a blessing and a curse. It was providing him with pretty clear directions but who knew what else they’d attract. It wasn’t long before he found their source though. A pit trap, the branches and bracken laid over the top destroyed. He made sure to make his footfalls louder as he approached.

“Hello, is somebody there? Oh Gods, if there is, please be an actual person and not some sort of liche or something.” The voice only sounded slightly shaky, which could just as easily be down to the scent of pain as well as that of fear.

“No Liche around these woods. None I’ve seen anyway.” Aiden said as he peered over the edge. It was deep, and the earthen sides were totally smooth, with not even a decent sized tree root visible, whoever had dug this wasn’t taking any chances.

A young man sat on the pit floor, blinking up at him with wide, blue eyes. A light pack on his back and a lute laying next to him, his hands grasping his left ankle. His gaze fixed on Aiden’s swords from where they peeked over his shoulder, “Wait. Armour, two swords…Witcher?”

Aiden nodded, mentally preparing himself for having to convince him to accept help from him.

“Oh, thank fuck.” The man’s shoulders sagged as he gave a relieved sounding laugh, “For a minute there I thought I was in trouble. Jaskier the Bard.” He inclined his head and Aiden got the impression it would be a full bow if he were standing, “Be a dear and help me out?” Aiden blinked down at him. Shit, he was definitely concussed.

After Jaskier had assured him that no, he hadn’t hit his head, but he had buggered up his ankle somewhat, they came up with a system. Jaskier passed his lute and pack up to Aiden, the Witcher feeling guilt spring up at the flash of pure hurt in the human’s eyes when he half-jokingly asked “’How do you know I won’t just leave you there?” He held his tongue as he hung as far over the edge as he dared and offered Jaskier his hand so he could haul himself out with Aiden’s help. He looked anywhere but at Aiden as he sat and tried to wipe the dust and mud off his bright red doublet. He immediately reminded the Witcher of a cardinal bird.

Aiden cleared his throat awkwardly, “Your ankle, think you can walk on it? I can help you back to your camp or horse if not.”

Jaskier shook his head, “Don’t have either I’m afraid. I’ve been travelling incredibly light as of late, I don’t know if you’ve tried it, but it’s been surprisingly freeing not being weighed down by useless stuff, you know.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call a bedroll useless.”

Jaskier waved a hand, “Debatable. I-fuck!” Aiden caught him by the arm as his ankle immediately buckled underneath him when he tried to stand, “No, walking’s not happening. Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for. Lean on me.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Good fucking question, actually.

Aiden really didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t leave a defenceless human hobbling around on an injured leg, but he couldn’t exactly risk an outsider encountering the Caravan either. There was a reason they stayed off the main roads after all. He tried to sketch a basic map in his head: This should be just about manageable.

“My camp. We’ll use my horse to get you to the nearest town and you can make your own way from there yeah? Unless you know of anywhere else nearby, where were you heading?” The nearest town was about a days ride away, if he rode through the night after dropping Jaskier off he should hopefully be back in time to catch the Caravan.

“I…no,” and there was that hurt again, “I have nowhere to be and nowhere to go. Such is the life of travelling Bard.”

“Easy, Sparrow.” Aiden cooed as he helped Jaskier up on the saddle, the Bard holding his lute in his lap and muttering something about how it must be some unspoken Witcher tradition to name your horse after another animal.

“Know many Witchers then?” Aiden asked

“Just the one, we travelled together on and off for a time, he’s a Wolf.” Aiden felt ice go down his spine. Fuck. A certain, tolerable raven head being the exception, if he was going to end up with some possessive fleabag accusing him of kidnapping, Aiden was cutting ties now.

“Where are they now?” Aiden tried to keep his tone light. If Lambert had lost another brother, he wouldn't know until he made it back to his own home for the winter and the thought that Aiden would know before the poor sods family momentarily settled heavily in his chest.

“I don’t actually know. We had a bit of a disagreement a while back. Which school are you by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Aiden fished the snarling cat head from out of his tunic, which was met with raised eyebrows and an “…Ah.”

“Still happy with our plan?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaskier sounded genuinely confused.

“I can guess what your Wolf told you about my lot. If you’d rather take your chances, I can leave you with some basic supplies.”

“Dear, if I paid attention to every single thing I got told about Witchers, my life would have taken a very different direction. You’ve given me no reason not to trust you so far. So, hop up and let’s go.”

“Self-preservation isn’t a phrase you know very well, is it?”

“We’ve a passing acquaintance at best. Speaking of, may I know the name of my rescuer and escort? Unless you don’t mind me calling you Dear for the entire trip.”

“I’m Aiden.”

Read the rest on my A03!

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #aiden centric #witcher aiden #aiden/jaskier friendship #witcher jaskier #jaskier #jaskier whump #dyn marv #cat witchers

[accihoe]

I'm on a two week spring break (as the seasons in my country work differently to EU and USA), and I'm also working on a business report that has to be submitted by October 13th. What better time to write than now?

I am once again truthfully sorry for my continuous disappearances.

Here's a Bucky fic because I found my tiny magnetic frame with a photo of him in it <3 (pic of photograph at the bottom).

P.S. this will be my first publicly posted Bucky fic woo-hoo!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: it's the 1940s, and Bucky comes home from a hard day at work, but his wife is there to make every moment of his hard work worth it.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: mentions of war. Probably not all canon regarding time, etc. Slightly oc Buck.

A/n: Please do not plagiarize my work, and please give me credit if you post my work elsewhere. I might make this a series, dunno. Love y'all. Pls comment or inbox me if you'd like to be on a taglist.

××××××

The walk home seemed longer than usual as Bucky trodged down the familiar path, every item of clothing feeling heavier with each step. He juggled his keys, slightly frustrated when they didn't go into the lock in the first few attempts. Finally, he managed, stumbling forwards from having his weight on the door. Bucky kicked off his boots in an instant, hung up his coat and hat, and looked around for his sweet love, his sugarbunch.

A smile bloomed across his handsome face as he saw her sauntering towards him, pretty dress flowing in the cool spring breeze. "Well, hello there, handsome chap. To what do I owe you the honours?" She smiled playfully, arms stretching open. Bucky gracefully accepted her invitation, wrapping himself around her and laying his cheek on her shoulder. "There, there, my love. Come on in. Go have a warm bath whilst I finish setting up the dinner table." His wife soothed, kissing above his cheekbone.

Once he'd freshened up, Bucky came downstairs to their four-person dining table, grinning at the meal his wife had prepared. She slid down in the seat across from him and reached out her hand, taking his. "Would you be as kind as to say grace for us?" She smiled, stroking her thumb over his bruised knuckles. They bowed their heads and closed their eyes as Bucky prayed for the food, "Lord God, Heavenly Father, bless our food and our drink, since you redeemed us so dearly and delivered us from evil, as you gave us a share in food and so may you give us eternal life. Amen.". They said amen in unison, and James kissed her hand as he let go of it.

"Jamie, my dear, I do not mean to alarm you, but I read about the war in the papers earlier today. It only seems to be intensifying. And I'm afraid young American men are no longer permitted a say as to whether or not they're getting drafted." His wife announced as she was washing the dishes, and he was drying and packing them away. The mug that he was busy drying slipped from his hands, but thankfully, his wife caught it just before it tumbled down the floor. "James," she breathed, taking his hands and gently tugging him away from the sink.

"Be..g my pardon, m-my love. The reality of the situations and times that we are living in has only dawned upon me now." James breathed, exhaling once again in disbelief. "Why don't you go and get ready for bed whilst I finish up here, hm?" She hummed, trailing her hand up to his neck and laying it there against his warm skin. "Alright, my darling, I bid on seeing you soon." He smiled, squeezing her hand that he held. "In the blink of an eye, sugar. Now go." She grinned, patting his cheek.

She joined him shortly after bathing and getting ready for bed, her chest tightening as she saw his frame in the bed, curled up in fear and staring off at the wood of his closet doors. Despite being fully aware of her presence, Bucky jumped when he felt her hand snake over his side and onto his stomach and chest. "Pardon me, my love." She giggled, spooning up against his back. James held his hand over hers as he continued to stare at the door. She felt sudden guilt. Should I not have told him that? She wondered.

"I'm sorry if I alarmed you, my darling." She said, pressing a loving kiss to the back of his neck. "You did not alarm me, dollface. 'M just tired from work 's all." He said, turning to face her. "Jamie, what'd your mama teach you about lying?" She warned. "Alright, alright." He smiled, eyes trailing across her bonny face, ruminating his luck. "Whatsoever may happen with this war, James, know that I love you." Y/N smiled, holding his hand to her chest and kissing his palm. "And I you." He smiled.

She skipped her reading that night, and so did he, just basking in each other's presence. The pair had fallen in love just after high school. James had seen her at church after praying for a pretty woman to cross his path, and she had prayed for a stable rock in her life to start a family with later on. It was instant love. After a period of wooing the pretty girl, they started dating, which then flourished into marriage. Bucky, age 24, Y/N, age 22, decided that they were content with the life they had built. Small but decent apartment, church community, flourishing matrimony, James had a stable job, and Y/N was applying for several.

Not to mention, their parents were incredulously proud. They were the spoken couple of Brooklyn, and Y/N treated Steve with the respect he deserved from day one, which was probably one of the central reasons for Becky's undying love for her. The life they had built together was sublime. Until the war hit.

xxxxxxx

Fin. Hope you liked it. Lots of love x

#bucky barnes drabble #bucky x y/n #40s!bucky #bucky angst #bucky barns x reader #husband bucky #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

[juzorei]

Okay, let me start. You guys have to hear me out because this episode had me screaming and crying my lungs out. The emotions felt in this episode were unexpressable.

Let's start from the beginning, where Sky's past is shown. It shows what he went through. The boy was so in love that he didn't know he was getting abused. He was forced to do things he didn't want. Even when Gun's friends started to force themselves on him, he was begging Gun to stop. He was abused so badly that he was left broken. It still haunts him in his nightmares. We can't imagine what he had to go through all these years with those memories. And in this scene, he called Pai as soon as he woke up from his nightmare, which shows Pai is his comfort place now. When he heard Pai's voice, he was relieved. And saying to come to him with this trembling voice...God, I just wanted to hug him. 😭❤

We can't avoid mentioning the acting done by Peat here. He conveyed every bit of Sky's emotion here. That crying and looking around in fear—everything was just so beautifully done!❤

Pai ran to him when he heard Sky was having bad dreams again. He left the race to meet his beloved. Pai changed a lot after falling in love. He is so caring. And when Sky hugged him from behind, it was the most beautiful thing ever. My eyes are blessed.🥺❤ Pai held him with such love and the smallest detail where Sky gave a little peck on Pai's shoulder when he hugged. And that kiss was fire! 😫❤

This scene felt so comfortable. Oh my god, not to mention Pai cleaning Sky. Hehe, I mean, he should clean him when he tired him out. I really want someone like Pai! 🙂Also, Sky is saying, "I just want to be with you." People, my boy is confident in his love for Pai. He is talking his heart out now. This shows how much he is comfortable and in love with Pai. He has hope now. Pai will love him. My poor boy simply wishes to be loved. And now he has Pai.😭😭❤

And the hug! Pai squished him.😭😫❤🤌 Oh my god, I felt so single. Pai is so in love. He adores his little Sky.I loved how he squeezed and kissed his forehead. Pai always gives forehead kisses to Sky. It's his way of comforting and assuring Sky that he will always be there for him.❤🥲

From this point on, the story takes a turn toward the worst thing that happened. I can't even watch it for the second time because the scene was so hard to take in. They used Pai's name to break Sky even more. But Sky still hung on to the bit of hope that he had. He couldn't even resist anymore because things kept happening to him. When Sky cried for help, it broke me hard, like really hard. It was too much to take in for real. 

After that, Pai called Sky so gently and shouted the moment he didn't get any reply from him. Pai was fucking scared at that moment, looking at his love on the bed in that state. He was horribly scared and Sky asking Pai not to give him to anyone else. God, how are we supposed to feel? I screamed and cried. How broke is my boy? Those fuckers broke him in the worst way. He literally begged Pai not to give him to anyone and said he would do anything he could. My boy just wants to be loved. Imagine being abused by the same person again and again and you felt so helpless right there and watching your world broke before your eyes. Its something nobody should experience.

Pai making sure of Sky that he us right there for him is what I love the most. He calmed him down and was gentle with Sky, even though Pai wanted to beat the shit out of them. He tried not to traumatise Sky even more. He made sure Sky knew that he was right there now. And the forehead kiss!

(PART 1)

#love in the air #prapai love in the air #prapai x sky #sky love in the air #thai boys love #prapai lita #sky lita #lita ep13

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

18th April >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Thursday, Third Week of Eastertide 

or

Saint Laserian (or Molaise), Bishop.

Thursday, Third Week of Eastertide 

(Liturgical Colour: White. Year: B(II))

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 8:26-40 Philip baptizes a eunuch.

The angel of the Lord spoke to Philip saying, ‘Be ready to set out at noon along the road that goes from Jerusalem down to Gaza, the desert road.’ So he set off on his journey. Now it happened that an Ethiopian had been on pilgrimage to Jerusalem; he was a eunuch and an officer at the court of the kandake, or queen, of Ethiopia, and was in fact her chief treasurer. He was now on his way home; and as he sat in his chariot he was reading the prophet Isaiah. The Spirit said to Philip, ‘Go up and meet that chariot.’ When Philip ran up, he heard him reading Isaiah the prophet and asked, ‘Do you understand what you are reading?’ ‘How can I’ he replied ‘unless I have someone to guide me?’ So he invited Philip to get in and sit by his side. Now the passage of scripture he was reading was this:

Like a sheep that is led to the slaughter-house, like a lamb that is dumb in front of its shearers, like these he never opens his mouth. He has been humiliated and has no one to defend him. Who will ever talk about his descendants, since his life on earth has been cut short!

The eunuch turned to Philip and said, ‘Tell me, is the prophet referring to himself or someone else?’ Starting, therefore, with this text of scripture Philip proceeded to explain the Good News of Jesus to him. Further along the road they came to some water, and the eunuch said, ‘Look, there is some water here; is there anything to stop me being baptised?’ He ordered the chariot to stop, then Philip and the eunuch both went down into the water and Philip baptised him. But after they had come up out of the water again Philip was taken away by the Spirit of the Lord, and the eunuch never saw him again but went on his way rejoicing. Philip found that he had reached Azotus and continued his journey proclaiming the Good News in every town as far as Caesarea.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 65(66):8-9,16-17,20

R/ Cry out with joy to God, all the earth. or R/ Alleluia!

O peoples, bless our God, let the voice of his praise resound, of the God who gave life to our souls and kept our feet from stumbling.

R/ Cry out with joy to God, all the earth. or R/ Alleluia!

Come and hear, all who fear God. I will tell what he did for my soul: to him I cried aloud, with high praise ready on my tongue.

R/ Cry out with joy to God, all the earth. or R/ Alleluia!

Blessed be God who did not reject my prayer nor withhold his love from me.

R/ Cry out with joy to God, all the earth. or R/ Alleluia!

Gospel Acclamation

Alleluia, alleluia! The Lord, who hung for us upon the tree, has risen from the tomb. Alleluia!

Or: John 6:51

Alleluia, alleluia! I am the living bread which has come down from heaven, says the Lord. Anyone who eats this bread will live for ever. Alleluia!

Gospel John 6:44-51 I am the living bread which has come down from heaven.

Jesus said to the crowd:

‘No one can come to me unless he is drawn by the Father who sent me, and I will raise him up at the last day. It is written in the prophets: They will all be taught by God, and to hear the teaching of the Father, and learn from it, is to come to me. Not that anybody has seen the Father, except the one who comes from God: he has seen the Father. I tell you most solemnly, everybody who believes has eternal life.

‘I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the desert and they are dead; but this is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that a man may eat it and not die. I am the living bread which has come down from heaven. Anyone who eats this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I shall give is my flesh, for the life of the world.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

--------------------------------------

Saint Laserian (or Molaise), Bishop 

(Liturgical Colour: White. Year: B(II))

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 13:46-49 Since you have rejected the word of God, we must turn to the pagans.

Paul and Barnabas spoke out boldly. ‘We had to proclaim the word of God to you first, but since you have rejected it, since you do not think yourselves worthy of eternal life, we must turn to the pagans. For this is what the Lord commanded us to do when he said:

I have made you a light for the nations, so that my salvation may reach the ends of the earth.’

It made the pagans very happy to hear this and they thanked the Lord for his message; all who were destined for eternal life became believers. Thus the word of the Lord spread through the whole countryside.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 88(89):2-5,21-22,25,27

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord; through all ages my mouth will proclaim your truth. Of this I am sure, that your love lasts for ever, that your truth is firmly established as the heavens.

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘I have made a covenant with my chosen one; I have sworn to David my servant: I will establish your dynasty for ever and set up your throne through all ages.

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘I have found David my servant and with my holy oil anointed him. My hand shall always be with him and my arm shall make him strong.

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘My truth and my love shall be with him; by my name his might shall be exalted. He will say to me: “You are my father, my God, the rock who saves me.”’

R/ I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

Gospel Acclamation Matthew 23:9,10

Alleluia, alleluia! You have only one Father, and he is in heaven; you have only one Teacher, the Christ. Alleluia!

Or: Matthew 28:19,20

Alleluia, alleluia! Go, make disciples of all the nations. I am with you always; yes, to the end of time. Alleluia!

Or: Mark 1:17

Alleluia, alleluia! Follow me, says the Lord, and I will make you into fishers of men. Alleluia!

Or: Luke 4:18

Alleluia, alleluia! The Lord has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives. Alleluia!

Or: John 10:14

Alleluia, alleluia! I am the good shepherd, says the Lord; I know my own sheep and my own know me. Alleluia!

Or: John 15:5

Alleluia, alleluia! I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty, says the Lord. Alleluia!

Or: 2 Corinthians 5:19

Alleluia, alleluia! God in Christ was reconciling the world to himself, and he has entrusted to us the news that they are reconciled. Alleluia!

Gospel Matthew 9:35-37 The harvest is rich but the labourers are few.

Jesus made a tour through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the Good News of the kingdom and curing all kinds of diseases and sickness. And when he saw the crowds he felt sorry for them because they were harassed and dejected, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is rich but the labourers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send labourers to his harvest.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[zenatness]

Finished Rogue Trader.

The journal is probably the weakest part of the game. The information in it is often too vague to be helpful and several of the rumors don't update and hang around even when you've dealt with them which effectively renders the whole rumor section useless.

Unfortunately, leveling up was a chore rather than a reward. There was simply too much to choose from and my lack of familiarity with the system made a lot of the decisions guesswork, and you constantly leveled up. It was a relief when I hit level 55 and could just enjoy the game. An auto-level option for the companions in particular would have helped immensely.

That being said, even coming straight from Baldur's Gate 3, I found the game to be really fun and engaging. Solid Warhammer-vibes and enjoyable characters, art was on point, good writing, good voice actors. Could do with more voiced parts and more character portraits for the npcs though. It also had a lot more different game elements going on than I thought it would.

I also learned that some people are just determined to always be the worst and apparently embarrassing a lord by flirting with his wife in public is how you make him a loyal subject. As for the ending...

There I was, unwittingly raising a god-son (very different from a godson) and setting a good example to ensure that this little corner of the galaxy would become as close to a utopia as we could manage. I'd somehow only managed to max out relations with one faction, but it was the navy so a good chunk of them decided to side with me when the Imperium threw a hissy fit over the *checks notes* Emperor worshipping, Chaos-smiting, tithe paying rogue trader establishing a successful territory on the outskirts of the Imperium where people just don't suffer as much. Oh and something something xenos collaborating blabla god-son etc etc. The Imperium overreacted is what I'm saying. So now they can't come over anymore.

The game was so aeldari heavy that for a while I forgot there were other xenos factions (I was, admittedly, twirling my hair and batting my eyes at Nocturne the entire time). But that said, the first introduction to the necrons was both smooth and delivered on the "oh shit." It, uh, didn't keep giving that horror and fear when they proved embarrassingly weak in both space and regular battle, but still.

Heinrix informed his boss that the von Valussy was worth being branded a heretic for, as expected, and became my new master of whispers which... made so much sense that I had to take a moment and wonder how I hadn't even considered that. Good on him for becoming more than a trophy husband.

Jae disappeared from my ship and I couldn't find her, and after two turns around Footfall I gave up. To nobody's surprise I got her bad ending - dead in a gutter. Welp :I

Argenta... yeah pretty sure becoming a sister repentia was her bad ending. Not sure what I could have done to change that outcome.

The rest of the humans had either neutral or good endings, though I honestly can't tell with Idira's because it was so lackluster. Compared to everyone else's it was barely an ending tbh. Even Opticon-22 got more of an ending (second favorite npc, bless his lovely circuits etc, but like... Idira deserved more, you know?)

As for the xenos... Both Yrliet and Marazhai hung around on the ship for years and then went off and did their own thing. Their own thing being, ah, yes, becoming corsairs and pirates respectively and raiding in my corner of the galaxy together. After everything I did for you and your people. Ugh. You better invite me to the wedding. Abelard... will stay at home. Marazhai knows what he did.

At least Nocturne stayed in touch in his own way. Maybe he can do me a favor and take the wayward xenos allies by their pointy ears and teach them manners and gratitude.

Tease.

#rogue trader #fifth Warhammer game I've played #(if you can even count Inquisitor Martyr) #easily the best of them #still needs a bit of polish but definitely enjoyable #one major flaw is obviously the way that there's missing dialogue options when you bump into Nocturne after chapter 3 #I'm sure there's supposed to be an option that lets you pick the 7 foot tall man up and spin him around #but it just wasn't showing for me for some reason? #I had to settle for stiff politeness? #tragic

[backtothestart02]

Every Little Thing You Do - 1/1 | westallen fanfiction

A/N: A belated bday gift based off a very Barry Allen-esque tiktok/insta video. Enjoy!

...

Synopsis: Barry Allen is turned on by his wife.

...

It’s not that Barry Allen can’t control himself now that he and Iris West-Allen are officially married.

Plus two years.

It’s not that they’ve gone through trauma after trauma, and every waking moment with her is precious.

Even though it is.

It is simply that Iris West-Allen is drop-dead gorgeous, and he is madly in love with her, and thus supremely attracted to her at every moment in time, even when she’s doing practically nothing – sitting, walking, breathing.

It is in such moments that he has to take a moment for himself or else he’d lunge at her, and they’d never get anything done.

It was just last Tuesday that these nonsensical activities came to a head for him, and he had no choice but to act on them, blessing his lucky stars that she’d been in the mood. And he feared the same would be the case today, though he had no idea what the outcome would be.

He opened the door after a long day at work – no need for flashing around after his 9-5, city was safe, police had the minor criminal activity handled – and immediately suppressed a groan when he saw Iris sitting at the dining table, looking all cozy in his sweatshirt and a pair of STAR Labs sweatshirts and fuzzy socks.

He’d bet anything she wasn’t wearing a bra under that sweatshirt of his that she was drowning in. That was always the first thing to go when she came home from work. He was surprised he’d beaten her actually. He was usually able to surprise her with dinner when she came through the door.

“You’re home early,” he managed to squeak out, instead of take me, I’m yours.

Iris swerved in her seat and smiled at him, a breathtaking smile that nearly knocked the wind out of him. He could feel his heart flutter inside his chest, and what was worse, his pants start to tighten.

“I was getting bored at the office, so I thought I’d finish up my work from home. I’m just about done though, and I was thinking pizza…?”

He blinked.

“Oh, sure.”

He guessed that was better than the gourmet meal he was cooking up for her in his head just because she’d smiled at him.

“From…Italy?” She batted her eyelashes prettily, and he had to laugh.

She was so goddamn adorable when she wanted something, and also sexy as hell. She shifted in her seat, and he could see the gentle curve of her breasts move beneath the fabric of the sweatshirt.

Definitely sexy as hell.

“I’ll be right back.”

He grinned – for her benefit – and wondered how he was going to race across the globe with his pants feeling so tight, Iris’ delicious little giggle in his ears as she called out her thank you and proceeded to clear the table.

He managed and was back in five seconds flat.

“That was fast.” She giggled again, and he caught her mid-stride walking towards him, probably intent on taking the pizza box out of his hand – thank god, because he was about to drop it at the sight of her – and press a kiss to his lips.

Her height betrayed her, and she could only stand in front of him, face tilted up, eyes closed, and wait for him to kiss her.

He did, reluctantly, only cause pizza, and then he watched as she turned and swayed her hips as she walked back to the table.

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the stand by the door.

Okay, that had been deliberate.

And then it happened, number three of the trifecta. Breathing.

He heard his gorgeous wife sink into her seat, open the pizza box, and sigh in satisfaction at the sight of the delectable food. Then she picked up a slice, put the tip of it into her mouth and moan.

“Oh, my god, Babe. You gotta try this. It is so good!”

He turned out slowly, practically shaking as he kicked off his shoes and turned to look at her.

“What?”

The question was so innocently asked that he couldn’t help but groan aloud. In a matter of seconds, he’d flashed across the room, lifted her out of her chair, causing her to drop her pizza on the table, and carried her up to their bedroom, where he promptly dropped her on the bed and proceeded to unbutton his shirt.

“Right now?” she gawked, though she wasn’t complaining or protesting.

“You did all three, Iris. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on the floor, then proceeded to unbutton and unzip his pants roughly.

“All…three?”

She looked down once he was nude and nearly covered her mouth from the laughter that was threatening to bubble over.

Instead, she answered simply with an amused tone.

“Oh, my.”

“Sitting, walking, breathing. And then, if that wasn’t enough, you had the audacity to moan.”

“That’s what turns a guy on these days?” she contemplated. “Well, the moan, I suppose. But the other three? Those are simple, every day things. Not sexual in the slightest.”

He set one knee on the bed and then the other, proceeding to crawl over to her.

“I don’t know about all men, but definitely this one, and definitely with you.”

“Just with me?” she sought clarification, bracing her hands on his bare chest.

He nodded and leaned down to kiss her.

“Just you.”

“Mmm.” She hooked her clothed legs over his frame. “I like the sound of that.”

He slid his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss, moaning into her mouth, tangling her tongue with his and growing more aroused with each passing second.

Then, suddenly-

“Wait! The pizza! It’ll get cold!”

She sounded so frantic, he almost reconsidered. Almost.

Instead, he pushed her further into the bed and silenced her into nothing but moans when he went to work suckling her neck.

“I’ll get you another,” he mumbled.

And she was putty in his arms, for that hour and the next.

#westallen #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #every little thing you do