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classypauli · 2 months

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𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑾𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!Reader

Summary: You catch the eyes of the last person you would expect

Word count: 5.8k

a/n: Working on Doctor´s treatment part 2, if you have any ideas, requests, questions message me!

Nevermore academy, education soil for creatures of kinds you would never even dream of. But preferred by many, you could hear about them as Outcasts. No human with a healthy mind would ever think about walking by their land or the woods. Vampires, werewolves, sirens, gorgons,... you name it. They guarantee you don´t want to mess with them.

Clearly, that´s from a human´s perspective.

As for Outcasts themselves, they don´t feel that way about them. Of course, the dirty looks that are shot their way everytime they step into the Jericho make them a little cheerless, but that wasn´t their image. That is what people created in their heads based on actions and incidents where they weren´t even present.

Wednesday was skeptical about this school, her parents used to go there for a couple of years but she isn´t like them. Or at least that is what she felt and she was sure of it. Breaking rules and always be right is like her second name and looking just at the gate of the Nevermore she knew, this school wouldn´t be any different than others. It won´t hold her inside for too long. And her roommate already persuaded her about her plants as soon as she stepped into the dorm.

The werewolf girl showed her around and explained the system of the school. The girl must admit, it was catching her attention, being around outcasts was indeed more enjoyable than around people, even though sometimes outcasts were more predictable than humans. But still, this reason wasn´t big enough to make her stay.

She wanted to escape and the girl had it planned to the last dot. Packing her things, going to the festival, and meeting up with Tyler. He would then drive her far far away. And it would have gone like this if Rowan didn´t touch her. The vision made her follow him, Wednesday went to warn him about the danger that waits on him in the trees. It turned out that he was the danger waiting for her.

And the thing she witnessed... Wednesday was sure what she saw was real, that it wasn´t just a figment of the imagination. He said that she would destroy the school and everyone in it. But the strange part was that everyone kept declining that as if she didn´t see him all bloody yelling in agony. And that made her stay.

Wednesday was now sitting in Botanical Science class. Unfortunately, she needed to sit next to Xavier who was trying to impress her with his ability. She wasn´t scared of the spiders, otherwise, she was drawn to creatures like this. The spider was slowly coming her way and now everyone was watching the interaction, waiting for the girl´s response.

On the millisecond the annoyed face appeared on Wednesday´s face as she went to slam the fake eight-legged animal but was stopped by a blue flame that was shot straight to the spider. Everyone knew who’s the fire was. You were just sitting there a couple of tables from them looking at the Xavier with an unimpressed look on your face as you held up one finger with the blue fire above. Then the fire suddenly disappeared and you went back to doing your work.

The students around the school knew you, you were unique and a lot of them wished they could do what you can. You hated that, everyone only wanted the power but nobody saw the background of it. Even though they were used to your power, it didn´t stop them from being in awe every time.

The goth girl saw you a couple of times around, she didn´t know under what category of outcasts you belong. Enid only said that you weren´t what most of them were, nothing more. And her roommate wanted but even the biggest gossip girl around the school knew barely minimum about you.

Wednesday shot her eyes at you without moving her head, slowly scanning you. She must say she didn´t expect that. This was the first time she had ever seen something like that. You shot the ball of fire straight at the fake spider and burned it into the ash in seconds, the spider stood zero chance against the fire. It didn´t touch Wednesday but she sure could feel the hotness of the flame.

„Thank you Y/N. Well it looks like Wednesday wasn´t really mesmerized by your skills Xavier.“ Mrs. Thornhill commented and went back to teaching. The boy only put his eyebrows together as he looked at you and then faced the other side of his seatmate in embarrassment. The class laughed under their breaths at the sight of Xavier’s sulking after failing to impress their new classmate.

After the class, Y/N took her books and started to walk away. She isn´t much social person and she doesn´t care about it. The girl likes it better on her own, it feels calmer that way. Y/N only talks when it´s needed, so with her teachers, parents, or her only friend in the school. She doesn´t even have a roommate which is like a win to her.

„Next time your rescue isn´t needed.“

Y/N turned around to the voice and saw a girl who sat with Xavier. She knew of course who she was, she was the talk of the week of course. This was the first time she had seen her from this close, or almost close. It was clear Wednesday doesn´t like crossing the personal barrier between two bodies. But even from this apart Y/N could notice her deep brown eyes which were staring straight into hers and barely seen freckles across her face.

The taller girl only nodded, breaking the eye contact, and walked away from the girl. Wednesday kept looking at your fading figure in the hallway till she could hear tough steps approaching her.

„She caught your eye, huh?“ Enid smirked at her new roommate as she leaned carefully so as not to touch her. „I can´t blame you, she´s really something.“ Enid sighed dreamely at the thought of you and Wednesday now looked at the girl with a slightly disgusted face before turning around to leave.

„Leave these comments to yourself.“ Enid only laughed at her as she started to follow her to their next class.

Wednesday kept thinking about you almost the whole day. More like about your ability. Hate to admit it but it was interesting. Enid said you aren’t wich or some magician that you can just control fire, or more like it´s just coming out of you.

When Y/N is not around they call her a Dragon of Nevermore or just a Dragon, they know better not to call her that when she is near, the girl doesn´t like that. And when she´s somewhere around they don´t talk about her so she wouldn´t hear, for their own safety.

Now was Wednesday´s writing time and she just kept sitting there staring blankly at the empty page. She wanted to continue with her new book but her mind went back to the blue flame every time. She sighed in frustration and went to her bed. Thing saw her thinking hard, she had something in her mind and he was glad that something ripped the thoughts of leaving this school away.

Students were now sitting outside, enjoying food and chatting with each other. Wednesday saw her roommate eating and talking loudly with her vampire friend and a couple of others. She wasn´t a fan of a lot of people but she also couldn´t care less if the attention wasn´t placed on her. She was scanning the pentagon looking for a place to sit. Preferably alone. The girl felt a soft tap on her black boot, there was a Thing facing her.

„What are you doing? You want to be seen by somebody?“ Wednesday hissed at him, trying not to look suspicious. Thing only pointed his finger somewhere. She looked up from him in the direction and found you sitting by the table on your own, quietly eating while looking down at your plate.

Wednesday sighed and made her way to you. She didn´t know why, her mind started to recalculate her options of where to sit. And understandably you were the safest option, she knew you wouldn’t try to talk to her.

And so it was like that. You barely looked at who sat beside you, Wednesday somehow felt like you could feel that it was her, that´s why you didn´t need to look at the new intruder. Students looked their way, now silently watching the invisible interaction between the two of you, looking for any change of behavior they were used to seeing from both of you. But nothing. You just sat there next to each other eating food, minding your business. The girl felt a soft tap on her boot again, this time only to tease her, Wednesday kicked him away not showing any emotion on her face.

The werewolf girl saw you both sitting next to each other, smiling softly at the image. She liked the idea of both of you together, you would look good. It was clear that you nor she were good at social interaction, and this? This was definitely unexpected. Most of the time when someone wanted to sit with you, you looked at them, not saying anything because it wasn´t even needed. They understand very fast what you meant.

You didn´t shoot Wednesday one look.

„How does your ability work?“ Wednesday asked without looking at your side profile as you chew on your food. You kept your stoic face without any unnecessary muscle work not understanding her question. The girl was slowly getting annoyed by you, it seemed like you ignored her.

Wednesday was getting used to people asking her useless questions or pleasing her attention which she ignored. Sometimes she made savage comments to shut them down. This was the other way around, now she tasted her medicine.

Y/N looked at her scanning her facial expression, why would she want to know about her? Of course, not a single muscle moved but her mind was the opposite, jumping from one thought to another not understanding the girl right now.

The young Addams was getting frustrated at the girl beside her. She wasn´t getting a single thing from her.

„Uhm... I don´t understand.“ Y/N finally said looking around to find something to take her mind off of the conversation and the look she was giving her. She didn´t like talking about that.

„Why is it blue?“ Wednesday of course knew why sometimes flame was a different colour than red. But she wanted to know if you could control it to that part when it changed it’s shade or if it was always like this.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and went to eat again, that action completely thorn off the new girl. Wednesday saw that this was getting nowhere so she let it be, but she will get her answers.

Unconsciously, you just become her new prey.

A couple of days went by since the joining of the new student, and everyone slowly started to come back to their things, forgetting about it. There were still students that liked to get on her nerves but most of them now didn´t mind her. They were quite afraid of the goth girl and she obviously had not a bad word for it.

„Y/N! Hey!“ the cheerful voice greeted you as you slowly approached the construction. This was one of your favorite places to go to. Not a lot of people went to this place so it was always so calm in there. The boy had a beekeeper´s suit on holding some equipment in his hands.

„Hey Eugene, how are the bees?“ The girl asked looking at the thing her friends currently work on. He was the only person who made her comfortable to talk with.

They knew themselves since the boy came. He was shy, he still is but back then it was much more, always looking at the ground, not looking at anyone, minding his business. At first, it was like a nightmare to him, he didn´t want to tell his moms that he had no friends, wanted to save them from being worried so it was better to keep that information to himself.

Minding on his own of course didn´t stop the bullies. Why would it, be right? He had never understood why they acted like that to him, it kept bugging him for a long and to the point when he was afraid to go out of his dorm room.

It was like this until it was Outreach Day, it was his first time to go here and he didn´t know what to expect. Eugene was set to work at Pilgrim World and he found him again. It was much worse this time because no one was around to interrupt them from what they were going to do. Unexpectedly someone came, at first the person was trying to talk them out of it but as the boys started to treat that person too, they got beat up. It was Y/N that came to save him. It was like a dream, the boy saw the tall girl a couple of times at school, he always thought that she looked savage, not caring about things that weren´t important. And he wanted to be like her but his mind wasn´t strong enough to believe in himself.

From that day the girl would keep him company wherever he wanted and like a sibling, you had each other's backs. Y/N was Eugene´s role model, someone he looked up to, his moms were so happy to hear that he had someone like her.

„They are good but they missed you!“ Y/N smiled softly at the short boy´s words. It was true, recently they weren´t spending much time together, but it was nothing serious, they just had separate things to do.

„I missed them too.“ She whispered and looked at the bee´s hive outside the window.

Wednesday was walking in the forest. She had to think about this dreadful place, her dead classmate and her loud roommate made it impossible. She enjoyed walking alone through the dense tree foam. It created a dark atmosphere. A lot of people were afraid of woods, but on Wednesday there was nothing to be scared of, she would walk there even in the darkness. She came by the lake as her boots were taking steps along the stones around. There was an old, wooden dock jutted into the water and the waves were dancing along the gentle wind.

Suddenly she heard something from the other side of the lake. She turned her head to the noise, her hunting instinct was now on looking into the center of the sounds. The girl could see a person standing there, hands together in a praying-like position with their head down. It looked more like they were praying or meditating. Wednesday could see slow breaths based on the small shoulder movements along with the person´s chest.

She took a small step to the front to have a better look at the scene. Suddenly the person turned their face in front of them, one leg moved back making them lean a little. One arm was moving up above their head and the other one was stretched in front of their body. Both hands were slowly turned into fists. And what happened next made Wednesday stand in awe.

The fire splutters out of one of the hands into the wind. The person took a step and jumped up turning their body high in the air kicking with their leg along with the hot flame. When they came down they turned their back around now jumping backward landing on their hands as they bounced back into the feet before doing a backflip layout. The blue fire was spewing all around, changing directions like it was listening to your body.

It was absolutely known who it was. You were the only one with the ability to control a blue fire. Wednesday couldn´t tear her gaze away from you. In situations like this, it was hard not to show an interest. The young Addams wasn´t someone who pretends.

The waves of water were lazily moving like a rhythmic melody along with your movements. As she was now standing there from the other side of the water, looking at you almost without blinking, it created the feeling of a border. As if the lake was a boundary separating her and you, separating her body from the unknown, from things that she wanted to know about but didn´t know how to move, how to make the step. So desperate to explore the untouched land.

It has now been a couple of days, the case was moving painfully slowly. Wednesday shared some evidence with the sheriff´s son and Enid. The girl didn´t like getting a lot of people into her soup but at the same time, she wanted others thoughts, even if it didn´t matter to her.

Thing has been quite a handful even with his remarks on someone. The young Addams have been sitting with you every lunch break, without a single word or glance. Just sitting there, quietly eating not bothering each other. Enid and Thing were great at getting on her nerves by teasing her about it.

Why they were like that? Wednesday didn´t know, she was only sitting with you at lunch, without any interaction at all.

Since that time in the forest, she didn´t see you use your fire. You barely use it. A lot of students were shocked when you burned that spider-like they weren´t used to seeing that, and now Wednesday knew.

They are currently having a class, she and Enid were sitting together paying attention, or at least one of them.

„Hey.“ Enid whispered leaning her head slowly into her classmate's direction. „Do you know where is Y/N?“

„How am I supposed to know the answer?“ Wednesday answered with a low voice, taking notes on the paper.

„Well, you are pretty close so I thought you would know.“ Enid shot her a quick glance before facing the teacher again as if she was listening this whole time.

Wednesday stopped her writing and turned to her roommate. „We aren´t close one bit. Just because we are sitting together doesn´t mean we are close.“ Her gaze was sharp looking straight at the side profile of the girl next to her. Enid didn´t mind her, she was now used to Wednesday´s behaviour so she only smirked.

After the class, she went to Eugene. Now as a member of hummers, she needed to spend some time also in the hives. She owned him for having her back at times when she went to investigate. He was exactly like her brother Pugsley, defenseless against the pitfalls in the world. Somewhere inside of her, she grew a soft spot for him but she didn´t want to accept it. Like always.

„Hey Wednesday, would you mind if we left earlier today? My friend is sick and I need to bring her some medicine.“

Her eyes were enough for her to see that her only friend of him was Y/N. Eugene didn´t talk about you a lot, only sometimes, like that you are also a member of hummers but nothing more. She could see the two of you sometimes in Jericho, walking around or after classes, like two siblings.

But now she knew the reason for your absence.

Y/N was lying on her stomach with a pillow over her head. Even though her room was already dark because of the covered windows, it still felt like there was a lot of light. The bed under the girl was like lying on tough ground. The thought of lying on the ground crossed Y/N´s mind a lot of times. Her body was on fire.

It has been like this for a couple of days, only in her room, without any light or social interaction. The only one she could see this awful day was Eugene, he was so sweet. Where would she be without him, only God knows. He brings her food and all the needed medicine. Even though he was trying so hard to help you nothing worked. And it wasn´t his fault.

Because of your ability your body gets too heated up sometimes, most of the time when you use flames too much. That´s why it´s better to train more so you can control it better and at the same time your body heat. But these were the consequences of the success.

No medicine could help, or at least you thought there was nothing. When this happens you are dealing with it just like this, waiting till it stops.

The knocking on the door tore you away from thinking about this uncomfortable position your body was put into. You just wanted to ignore it, even if it was Eugene but another knocking was heard, this time more louder than the first time. It was too much and your head started to spin around the room as soon as you got up.

Slowly opening the door, leaning against the door frame. You were waiting for Eugene with the food in his hands, you were waiting for Principal Weems with her questions about your absence, and you were waiting for Thornhill with the class work you missed.

What you weren´t waiting for was Wednesday Addams standing right in front of you with a bag around her shoulder.

She was looking at you with her signature stare, staring right at your face. She noticed your fallen eyes, bags under them, and lowered shoulders.

„You look horrible.“ That was her first word as soon as she saw her classmate. It was nothing like compared to the first day she saw you.

„Appreciate it.“ Y/N whispered back at her, not moving a single muscle in her body. The taller girl thought that maybe Wednesday made a mistake and she didn´t want to go into your room. But the Addams never makes a mistake.

She slightly pushed you into the room as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She could feel the heat of your body as she touched your chest in that millisecond. It was too hot and of course, the dark-eyed girl's body was most of the time under the normal temperature of a human body so everything compared to her felt warm. But this was too much, it was like touching a fire with a bare hand.

„What are you-“

„Sit down.“ Wednesday commanded to you, cutting you from sentence and you like a good dog listened to her. You kept your eyes on her the whole time, she went to your table by the wall, pulling up her bag with some things, and she started to do something. You didn´t see what she was doing because the only thing you could see was her back.

Wednesday then turned around to you, holding something like a small cup with some strange liquid in it. You wanted to gag at the smell of it, it didn´t look drinkable.

„Drink it.“ She pushed it even further to your mouth as you only pushed your head back away from it. Was she trying to poison you? You wouldn’t be so surprised, it was Wednesday after all. She was getting frustrated by your childish actions so she took the back of your head and brought you closer to the cup. The taste of it was awful, you just wanted to throw up.

„Swallow it.“ And you did. You could feel it as it went down your throat it was cold but so refreshing after your high temperature.

„Now lay down, you will feel better. Believe me.“

And you did. Lying in that uncomfortable bed, praying to fall asleep quickly.

„It´s because it´s hotter than red. I can’t control it.“ You said with your eyes barely opened. Wednesday kept looking for you to continue. „Blue fire is hotter than red. That´s why it´s like that.“

„I know.“ She whispered back. You don´t remember much of how you fell asleep but before the Hypnos took you away you could see her sitting on your chair looking at you.

The next day Wednesday was sitting eating her lunch at your table, again without you. She must admit it felt strange but nothing she couldn´t manage to get over.

Suddenly she felt a presence next to her, and the dark-eyed girl slowly turned to the person who dared to sit next to her. Her eyes were met with the person she helped yesterday. She didn´t expect you to recover that quickly, she was guessing you would be fine by tomorrow, but here you are the next day.

„I see you feel better.“ She commented looking at your figure, as if yesterday you weren´t dying from high temperature.

„Yes, thanks to you.“ You still kept looking at her, your eyes were wide staring at her silently thanking her. Wednesday looked at her plate, not giving you another glace, her plate with food was now the most interesting thing.

„You don´t have to thank me.“ You only smiled at her actions, it was cute like she was embarrassed for helping you. You need to pay her back.

A couple of days went by and a lot of things changed. The two girls started to talk more, it was most of the time on the lunch break or sometimes when they caught themselves in hives. They weren´t friends yet but this was a great road to start the friendship between them. Wednesday even told Y/N about her case and her progress from the start.

Y/N was an intelligent, really open-minded person. It was good to have someone like her nearby if the shorter girl needed some opinions. Y/N was always available, she never turned Wednesday down. They spend more and more time together, the young Addams sometimes sits with her in class, or goes to her dorm just to talk or for help, you even told her about your ability more. Wednesday didn´t want to accept it but somewhere deep inside of her she knew, she had grown a soft spot your you

Now it was soon to be Rave´N Dance and you were thinking about it. Going there didn´t even cross your mind in the past, you had no one to go with so every time it came you and Eugene went out and did something. But now it was a little different. Maybe she wouldn´t even go, this didn´t seem like her cup of tea and why would she even go with you? There were a lot of other candidates who would have a bigger chance than you. Or maybe she would say yes, why are you doubting yourself if she didn´t enjoy your presence you wouldn´t be spending so much time together. You need to at least try. And that´s exactly why you were now standing in front of her dorm.

After a soft knock was heard on the door Wednesday did not expect to see you. You were standing before the door a couple of steps back as if you were afraid to disturb the dorm of the two girls. You were wearing your casual clothes, a black oversized hoodie and some big sweatpants, hands behind your back.

„Hey...uhm... I-I´m sorry for disturbing you, I just wanted to ask you if...“ you didn´t even look at her, your head was down looking at your shoes. Your voice was low and Wednesday barely caught the sentence that left your lips.

„Y/N you need to talk louder than that, I can´t hear you.“ She just kept looking at you, trying to find the answer by your body language. You were nervous, because of what?

You sighed and turned your head in her direction, looking straight at her face. „I wanted to ask if you would go with me on Rave´N Dance.“

The young Addams for the first time in her life felt like she didn´t know what to say. It was unexpected. Sure it wasn´t like she would decline your offer. She liked you, as a person. You were currently number one closest to her, beside her roommate of course but with Enid it was different.

„Y/N… I already have someone to go with.“

Ouch. Well, it was something you were prepared for but it still hurts a little. Yeah, like she would go with someone like you. God, it was embarrassing.

The taller girl only nodded her head looking everywhere but at Wednesday. She pushed air out of her lungs and slowly pushed her hands from her back. „Y-Yeah okay... don´t need to worry I just thought I would ask.“ You smiled awkwardly and gave her the black rose that was hidden behind your back.

„Here... This is for you.“ You looked into her black eyes, this was the first time you saw her like this, so vulnerable, but only her eyes showed that. „Well I´ll go, you don´t have to feel sorry, I get it.“

She took the flower from your hand as you turned around and started to walk away down the hallway. Her eyes kept watching you till she didn´t see you anymore, her eyes went to the black rose in her hands. It was beautiful.

Wednesday could tell that you were the only person who she ever felt so much emotions because of. And now she felt miserable.

Today was the day of the Rave´N Dance and you were lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You wanted to spend some time with Eugene but he had some plans which he didn´t say what it was about so you were just by yourself.

Wednesday wanted to talk to you about it but every time she mentioned it you said it was okay, so she stopped. You didn´t want to know who she went with and if your ego would take it.

The small paper slid under your door, you stood up and took it into your hands. You didn´t know who´s writing was it.

Meet me by the entrance at 9 pm.

-WA

It was sure it wasn´t Wednesday's handwriting. You saw it a couple of times when she was giving you class work which you missed the days of your sickness. But it was her initials because you didn´t know anyone with the WA.

That´s why you came to her dorm looking for answers. You knocked on the door and waited. The note is still in your hands. The dark-eyed girl opened the door, looking at you with a questionable look in her eyes.

„Hey, what brings you here?“

You showed her the note in your hand. „I saw this note, I didn´t know i it was from you or not. You are the only one I know with a name that starts with these initials.“

Wednesday studied the note. It looked like a cheap version of her writing. As if someone was trying to copy her handwriting. It was sure who it was. She´s going to kill him.

Shouldn´t she be preparing? You just noticed her and how she still was wearing casual clothes. The dance started in a couple of hours and she still hadn´t even started.

Wednesday saw in her peripheral vision Thing, he was behind the door giving her thumb up. If he had a face she was sure he would be smiling from ear to ear.

„Yes, it´s from me. I wanted to ask if you would go with me to the Rave´N.“

What?! You were shocked, she wanted to go with you? But, but...

„But you said you are already going with someone?“ Wednesday leaned her head a little to the side, not meeting your eyes.

„Yes but something changed.“ She was still facing the other way but it took you too long to answer to she looked back at you with raising an eyebrow. „Well? Would you go with me?“ You nodded with your head.

„Great, meet me down at nine.“

And after that, you ran as fast as you could.

Wednesday closed the door and looked at Thing with dark eyes, he ran under the bed to hide from her. She just sighed and looked at the rose standing in the jar with a water on her table. She wasn’t really mad.

Your hands were shaking and your body felt hot. What were the main two things you could sense at that moment? You were standing exactly where Wednesday told you to, coming a bit earlier because it´s better than late and you could only imagine what would Wednesday do if you came late.

Looking around the passing by students somewhere double looking to make sure it was you. It was the first time they saw you in formal clothes like this. You didn´t feel very comfortable with all the glares and on top of that those tight clothes.

These things were forgotten at the same time as Wednesday came down. She was wearing a dark black dress and her hair was done perfectly. She looked beautiful, like always. You were glad that you were matching even though you didn´t talk about your clothes. You were also wearing all black.

„Hey.“ She gently greeted you as she came to you. „Are you ready?“

You nodded at her smiling softly, you offered her your arm, didn´t know if she would take it but to your surprise she did. And just like just like that you walked to the ball room. As soon as you stepped in everyone´s eyes were on both of you. It was shocking, sure a lot of people saw you these days together, but you were almost the same. But they didn´t expect to see either of you on Nevermore ball.

Enid was smirking at the two of you, glad it was you instead of Xavier. It was her plan after all and with a little help from Thing it became real.

The two of you decided to drink something and as you were standing there chatting a little with Enid, you saw Xavier´s glarings. Why is he staring at you like that? You didn´t break the eye contact, not letting him win. The dark-eyed girl saw you and took you by your hand.

„Come.“ She was really gentle that night, like a whole new person. But only you could catch that, she didn´t let anyone else see but you.

And you were having fun dancing around, chatting, and drinking. It was so refreshing, you didn´t have this much fun in a long time.

„Thank you for going with me.“ You said as she had her hands around your neck slowly dancing to the song. She kept looking at you with wide eyes. This was the second time you saw her eyes like this, the first time was a couple of days ago when you came to ask her to the dance.

This was the first time you were close like this, your hands around her slim waist and her around your neck. Looking at each other, to others around it looked like you were talking with your eyes. Your body was too hot compated to hers.

Wednesday’s heart was cold, that’s was people around her said and they weren’t far from the truth. But now as she stands infront of you and you are looking at her and holding her like she’s the only one in the world… her heart warmed.

„No need for that. I would do it twice.“ Wednesday said before she smiled gently at you.

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 2 months

Text

hungry eyes | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick is a great cook, and a chef must taste-test all his meals, mustn’t he? including you.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), finnick is a munch and a thigh man, praise, swearing, cum swallowing, fingering

notes: i’m so sorry about the long-writing-time-to-short-word-count ratio. i don’t know if i like this ahhh. lmk what y’all think <3

word count: 3.5k

You were passing through the entry room of your house when the front door opened with a slight creak. Stepping through the doorway was Finnick, dressed in a white billowy Henley shirt (he had a few buttons purposely left open and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows) and a pair of dark grey pants.

His hair was a windswept mess of bronze waves with different strands poking out in various directions, but he somehow made it work. He looked…

Wow.

You, on the other hand, were still in your pyjamas, wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and cosy thigh-high socks.

As soon as he entered the house, you could tell what kind of mood he was in. Drained. That tended to happen whenever he had to spend the day with his prep team and prepare for an upcoming event in the Capitol.

His cheerless eyes found yours and you swore a spark of life flickered in them.

“Hey, Finn,” you said. “Are y—oh!”

Before you could finish, he had wordlessly stepped towards you and collected you in his arms. Your feet left the ground as he picked you up and continued walking further into the house.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Your legs curled around his back, your body leaning into his chest so as not to fall backwards. He smelled really nice, like how you imagined sunlight hitting the sea on a warm summer’s day would smell.

“Making something to eat,” he finally spoke. His eyes briefly flickered to yours. “I’m hungry.”

Well, you did send him off that morning with some of last night’s leftover crab cakes, so he couldn’t have been that hungry. Plus, he was with his prep team. They would’ve had plenty of fancy Capitol-esque food on hand to satiate him.

Weird.

“So that means I don’t get a hello?” you teased.

Finally, a small smile worked its way onto his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly and softly to your own, his hands not-so-sweetly squeezing the plush of your ass as he did.

He pulled back and gave you a mischievous look. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled bashfully in response. “Hi.”

You had passed through the archway into the kitchen, the entire room now being bathed in sunlight from the four o’clock sun. It was the picture of a perfect beach house—driftwood and seashell ornaments, sand-coloured benchtops, and large wooden-framed bay windows.

Finnick set you down on the counter facing the stove, your legs now dangling over the edge.

“You just had to bring me into the kitchen with you?” you asked.

He was already out of your arms, scouring the cupboards for various ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to cook up.

“Gotta have something pretty to look at,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right. Obviously.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, apart from the clatter of a metal pot being set on the stove and the splashing of various vegetables and chicken stock being thrown into boiling water. Your legs swung lightly as you watched Finnick in quiet admiration.

Steam wafted into the air, bringing with it a sweet herbaceous smell. You hated to admit it, but Finnick was an unbelievable cook; much better than you were. He was constantly offering to teach you his culinary skills which often led to the two of you spending hours together in the kitchen. Burnt and over-salted meals were a common result. Regardless, you enjoyed the time together.

Sometimes it even led to other things as well… things very unrelated to cooking.

Finnick seemed to hyper-focused on the soup he was stirring; he was being unusually quiet, making you wonder what was going on inside his head. Had something happened during the time he was away?

“How’d you go today?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, humming a vague response.

“Mm,” you copied, wearing a teasing smile.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. Then he did something weird.

His head turned again, and he gave you a double-take, eyes falling from your face and to your legs. Your pyjama shorts had ridden up to the crease where your legs and hips connected, and your thighs were squished together on the counter, the cuff of your thigh-high socks digging into the soft flesh. His eyes flickered to yours once more before he turned back around.

Very weird.

An unexpected wave of goosebumps travelled down your entire body. You swallowed nervously and averted your eyes to your lap. It was absurd how a single look from him could cause you to react so strongly. He had so much power over you.

You crossed your legs, palms flat against the bench top on either side of you for support. The entire room was filled with the sweet aroma of the broth Finnick had made, causing your mouth to water from the mere thought of the warm liquid soaking into your tongue.

He lifted the pot from the stove and turned it off, scooping the contents into two bowls. However, when he turned around and walked over to you, he was only holding one.

“Just glad to be home with you,” he said and offered you the bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking it into your hands.

The bowl was hot against your palms and fingertips, almost burning right down into your bloodstream as the golden liquid wafted steam into your face. Finnick’s gaze followed your movements as you lifted the spoon to your lips and finally felt the delicious heat seep into your tastebuds.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed a noise of pleasure, already craving another spoonful. “Tastes really good.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head.

Finnick was gently lifting one of your legs into his hands, massaging your calf through the cotton of your socks. His hand wandered down to your ankle, stroking over it with an affectionate touch before gliding back up to the underside of your knee. You had hardly noticed his affectionate behaviour, too distracted by the vibrant tastes filling your mouth.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked half-heartedly, focused on getting another mouthful in.

“Sure am,” he murmured.

Selfishly, you paid his words no mind even though you really should have. You had just lowered the spoon back into the bowl, watching the soup cover the metal when suddenly, your leg was being lifted over the other.

Now this got your attention.

You swallowed the warm liquid, eyes looking up at him in confusion. He uncrossed your legs, nudging them open with his hands on your inner thighs before he positioned himself between them. Your thighs were now hugging either side of his hips, your grip on the bowl frozen with uncertainty.

“What are you…?” you began, but then he was gently taking the bowl and spoon out of your hands and placing them on the bench beside you.

“Told you I’m hungry, sweetheart,” he said. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Been waiting all day to see you. And these socks…” he trailed off with a sigh, sliding his fingers just beneath the band digging softly into your thigh before letting it snap back in place. “Well, now I’m practically starving.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. God, you were already breathless.

“Oh,” you whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and kept lowering his gaze to your mouth, looking at you as if you were a grand three-course meal and he was on death row.

“I just need a taste,” he spoke almost pleadingly. “Will you let me?”

Not a single neuron in your brain was firing at that moment. With the way he was staring at you, how gorgeous helooked, and the fact that he was practically begging to be between your thighs, it was almost impossible to say no. It was also impossible for you to verbalise it as well.

“Please, baby. You’ll let me, won’t you?” he pleaded.

The growing desperation in his voice had you sinking your hips into the counter, feeling yourself begin to ache for him. Of course, as you did this your thighs grew expanded even wider from the pressure and Finnick seemed to like that very much. You could tell from the way his cock left a large print across the front of his pants.

You nodded, speechless.

“You will?” His hands found the sides of your thighs. “Good.”

Within seconds, he had dragged your body to the edge and collided your pelvis with his. He felt as hard as he looked. You gasped at his eagerness but were immediately cut off by his lips crushing against your own, leading you into a kiss that mirrored the hunger he must have been feeling inside all day.

His hand moved into your hair, holding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He was leaning into you, moving his lips so assertively that your body had to lean back to get a sliver of respite. You were buzzing with anticipation like electric currents were moving through your veins. If he was kissing you like this, what would it be like when his lips were further below?

He then pulled away to observe you.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, gently smoothing the hair beside your face.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the brief tender moment. Your hand moved onto his and gently squeezed as you looked up at him, gaze doe-eyed and full of false naivety. You knew you were only spurring him on.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said before pressing another peck to your lips. Then he started to go lower. First, he kissed the length of your neck and then the skin above your breasts exposed by your low-cut shirt. “Perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect thighs.”

He was crouching now, trailing kisses down your stomach which had your fingers weaving into his hair. The descension halted at your upper thighs. His lips left a warm tingling sensation that spread across your skin with each tender touch. You watched him begin moving higher, entering a dangerous region of your inner thighs with lips that were trademarked for trouble.

The air in your lungs was in short supply now.

“Just so sweet and so…” His fingers slipped into your waistband and pulled your shorts down your legs. The fabric fell from your ankles and there you sat, your glistening cunt bare and reflecting in Finnick’s green eyes. “So wet.”

Feeling nervous due to his penetrative stare, you attempted to conceal yourself and began closing your legs. He tsked and forced them open with two sturdy hands. He continued marvelling at the slick that coated your folds, committing the image to his mind.

“So perfect,” he exhaled.

You were getting impatient now.

“Finnick,” you whined. “Please. Just… Just do some—"

You inhaled sharply. He had rushed forward and finally connected his warm mouth to your cunt.

High-pitched breathless moans were already spilling from your lips as his harsh tongue delved between your folds, lapping up the arousal that had leaked out. Your body was restless, which was evident from the way your fingers pulled at his hair, hips bucked into his mouth, and thighs clenched around his head.

Hunger and starvationwere not the right terms to describe how he was acting. Not at all.

He was insatiable.

Finnick’s shoulders slid beneath your thighs, forcing your legs to dangle over them. His arms were curled around your legs while his hands kept your legs clamped open from the top of your thighs. He suctioned his lips around your clit, the sensitive flesh growing more swollen as the pressure he applied increased.

You placed a hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady, keeping the other hand buried in his golden waves. Your head fell back with a loud moan. He was shaking his head side-to-side in a manner that could only be deemed as animalistic. He was eating you out like a fucking animal. Like he was a predator, and this was his kill.

“Oh, my god!” you cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue dragging from your opening and back to your clit, savouring every ounce of sweetness he could pull from you. A dull pain was coming from your upper thighs and you quickly realised Finnick’s fingers were digging into your skin. Each time your thighs tried to shut, his fingers buried deeper into your flesh. And mixed with the feeling of his tongue lapping you up, it felt rapturously overwhelming.

His tongue began flicking your clit at such rapid speeds that you weren’t even sure a vibrator could replicate it. You were now pulling, no, yanking at his hair all the while your hips were moving closer to his face. The pleasure was so devastating even your body wasn’t sure what to do with itself.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice vibrated against your clit, “y’gotta strong grip.”

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him. “Finn, don’t stop.”

And of course, he pulled back an inch to look up at you. The sight of him between your legs was fucking glorious. A mix of your juices and spit was dribbling down his chin, coating his lips in a shine you wanted to taste. His hair was dishevelled in a way you could only describe as a sex-crazed mess. Oh, and the way his blown-wide pupils were looking at you… like he had a whim to devour you whole right then and there.

“Stop? Who said I was ever going to stop?” He smirked.

Then he leaned in and fell back into his previous rhythm. The heels of your feet dug into his back. He was essentially making out your cunt. His tongue was swirling around your clit and kissing it sweetly, as if doing so offered you any reprieve from the exquisite torment he was inducing. Your stomach muscles were aching in the most pleasurable way, sending signals of pure arousal to your brain that made you feel intoxicated.

“Like fucking sugar,” his voice muffled into you.

He tongued your entrance, forcing as much as he could inside you. Your walls fluttered with warmth around him and you let out a needy little whine. He flicked his tongue upwards inside you as he slid in and out, thick eyebrows scrunched together as he moaned at your taste soaking into his tastebuds.

One of his arms unravelled from your thigh and his tongue retracted from inside you. You whimpered in displeasure, only to gasp as something longer immediately replaced his tongue. Finnick’s mouth was entirely focused on suckling your clit, meanwhile, the two fingers he had slid inside you were focused on pushing your body over the edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed heavily. “Fuck. Oh, f—ah!”

The pads of his fingertips pressed into that swollen spot deep inside you, knuckles prodding your walls as he curled his fingers. He was wildly flicking his tongue over your clit with the added help of his head shaking side-to-side.

You were writhing. Your body had never known such powerful sensations before meeting Finnick. Even after all the time you had been together, you were still trying to get accustomed to how intensely he made you feel. Given that information, you could feel your orgasm rocketing from deep within and to the surface. Flames licked at the muscles in your stomach, spreading like wildfire from your clit.

Finnick looked up at you, and you looked down at him. Look how good I make you feel, his cocky eyes spoke. Your parted lips were dark, flushed with heat and arousal, letting each and every debauched sound echo around the ceramic-tiled room. He plunged his fingers inside you again and your head fell back. You knew he was laughing. You could feel it.

The noises filling the room were pure sex. The sound of Finnick’s fingers squelching inside you, of him sucking and lapping at your pussy, and your whiny half-crazed moans—they were all that could be heard. And then suddenly your body started tensing.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Finn, I’m—I’m—Fuck!”

And there it was.

Finnick didn’t stop. Hell, he somehow even managed to pick up his pace.

Your thighs clamped harshly around his head; this would’ve worried you if your brain actually had a single thought running through it. Shockwaves of bliss crashed over your body; they consumed you. Your moans came out as choked noises and filthy gratified cries of Finnick’s name as he sucked and curled his fingers in and out.

You felt him speaking, most likely words of praise to talk you through your high, but you couldn’t hear. White noise buzzed in your ears. Part of you could feel him collecting your juices with his tongue as the built-up tension gushed from your cunt. The other part of you was gone.

At least for a brief period.

When you came back to reality, Finnick was starting to stand back up. His hands were holding both your thighs, keeping them from violently trembling. You stared at him, waiting for the spots in your vision to disappear and the buzzing in your ears to settle. There was nothing you could do about the liquid seeping onto the bench top.

He surveyed your dazed expression, mild concern etched into his features as his eyes flickered between your own. His hand gently cupped the side of your face.

“You here?” he asked, lightly dragging his thumb down your lower lip.

Sweetness coated the tip of your tongue as you licked your bottom lip. Well, no wonder he enjoyed doing that so much. You tasted really… good.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He gave you this beautiful dimpled smile, and he dropped his hand once more. His eyes were on yours, gleaming with mischief as he dragged two fingers up your folds, glazing them in a white shine. You were so sensitive that your hips jerked forward at the light contact, causing him to chuckle softly.

You watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and within milliseconds, you were reaching out to stop him.

His fingers were so thick and long, and with your arousal coating them, it was damn near impossible to deny yourself the pleasure of having a little taste as well. So, with two hands holding his palm, you guided his fingers towards you.

You eyed the liquid for a moment, hesitated, and then licked a long strip from the base of his forefinger and up to his fingertip. Then, closing your eyes, you wrapped your lips around the length and began sucking. It was a potent taste, both overpowering and lingering. Not bad though. You moved onto his middle finger, this time keeping your eyes on Finnick as you sucked it clean.

His expression reflected something of astonishment, letting out a perplexed chuckle as he watched. With a wet pop, his fingers were out of your mouth. You were holding his large palm and pressing a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, a tender and affectionate gesture compared to the act you just pulled.

Finnick shook his head at you, wearing a disbelieving smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“What,” he echoed your response under his breath. He grabbed your chin, leaning down until you were face-to-face. “You play a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were on yours and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, all that could be tasted was you. That previous animalistic air about him had dissipated; he was gentler now, kissing you in a way that was adoring rather than bordering primal. Not that you had been complaining.

His pelvis was pressed against yours. More accurately, his cock was pressed against your pelvis. Whoever made his pants must have used strong threading. He was so hard that you were surprised the seams hadn’t ripped apart and exposed him altogether. You were surprised but also thankful because undoing his pants was your job.

Your hands moved to his chest and pushed him backwards. His lips left yours with a displeased grunt.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Finn,” you said, your hands trickling down his torso. “I’ve worked up an appetite myself as well.”

He looked down at you, eyes oozing with seduction. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You slid off the counter, feeling his erection glide over your body. The fragrant smell of marinated vegetables and chicken still lingered in the room. You should have felt disheartened about not finishing the mouth-watering soup Finnick had made—or perhaps even the entire pot. But as you sank to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants, you realised there was one thing that was a great deal more appetising.

Peering up at him through your lashes, you saw him looking down at you with a lazy smirk.

Your lips stretched into a sinful smile. “My turn.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair x fem!reader #sam claflin #the hunger games #mockingjay #catching fire #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair drabble #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x you

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sindar-princeling · 1 year

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I truly and deeply love Eowyn because she's angry, bitter and can be genuinely cold when we meet her - and she's only 24! already she's changed by this war, by the loss of her parents, by the long period of her life where she had no parental figure because Theoden was battling his own depression, and by Grima being a creep. Tolkien's young characters go to war and are changed by it, like Pippin, like Sam, who is still quite a young hobbit (he's 39, and they come of age at 33), but not her - she is already deep in grim thoughts about dying for honour, cheerless, cold.

I don't like comparing all Tolkien women to one another because they are quite different from each other and comparing them just because they're women often feels reductive because they serve vastly different roles in the story, but when you're considering how he presents femininity, it's necessary to do so. so far we've met Lobelia, Mrs. Maggot, Goldberry, Arwen, Galadriel and Eowyn (Rosie was only mentioned as far as i remember?). hobbit women we meet while we are still at home, and they fit right into the homey atmosphere of the shire, in which characters are often presented playfully, or have one defining trait (think about the characters we only know from notes attached to bilbo's "gifts"). further from home, we meet goldberry, arwen and galadriel, who are old, fair, good, beautiful. each of them is different (and galadriel especially has a dark, flawed part of her we can see), but with the women meet on the journey, further from home, a pattern starts to emerge - they come from a different time, from a different world, and even with all their fairness and kindness they can at times feel distant, out of reach.

and then!! eowyn comes into the picture, and- she could be you. she could be me. she's not only complex, but also within reach. she's not a gentle or joyful presence, she's not a powerful ancient force, she doesn't come bearing gifts for everyone - she's so full of negative emotions and pain which she needs to heal from, she's so young and already feels like an old, weary soul.

and it's not to say one kind of character is better than the other, or more complex or anything, because that's exactly the reductive way of looking at those women that I don't like seeing in discussions. ultimately, they are all just different people. but the introduction of eowyn broadens the spectrum of femininity shown in LOTR, and while it's still not exactly wide, it's a bit wider than it was before.

#then of course we meet ioreth who is again different but that happens later and i wanted to cover the progression so far #lotr newsletter #it's honestly accidental that this post came to my mind on women's day of all days askjhkdhdkj #anyways happy women's day! trans women are women #it's mine my own my precious #eowyn #arwen #galadriel #lobelia #rosie #goldberry #mrs. maggot #lotr #the lord of the rings

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southern-gothic-comic · 4 months

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Page 49

Next 💜 Back 🖤 First

(Author Notes)

Panel 1: Laudna returns to her lonely hovel, which looks more cheerless than ever after the weeks she’s spent in a real house where she was loved and needed. The produce on her shelves has withered and blackened and half a loaf of bread is covered in mold. She looks out the window nervously.

Panel 2: Instead of going to bed she huddles underneath it with Pâté held close, terrified.

Panel 3: That night Imogen is sulking in bed when she hears Laudna’s voice calling to her through the message spell.

Laudna: Imogen!

Panel 4: She goes to the window and sees smoke rising from the woods.

Imogen: Laudna!

Panel 5: With a coat and boots hastily thrown on over her pajamas, she rushes through the woods.

Panel 6: There she finds Laudna’s cabin set alight by a mob of angry villagers.

Mob: Whole place was full of poppets! That just proves it! Burn it all down! Kill the witch!

#critical role #critical role fanart #critical role comic #imogen temult #laudna #imodna #southerngothic #imogen x laudna #bumpkins of gelvaan #comics #a long road home #mintywolf

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odiesbun · 1 year

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...♡He forgets about date♡...

There may be errors in the text, as my native language is not English. Thank you for your likes and your request!

genre: fluff, a little angst at some points.

warning: established relationships, dating, resentments, food references, a lot of apologies.

w.c: 1.2k

♡Heeseung♡

•As soon as he realizes his mistake, the realization of the absurdity of the situation hits him in the face. Especially when you come home cheerless, your lips pressed together and your eyebrows furrowed.

He rushes over to you, helping you to take off your jacket, his heart dropping all at once, when you accidentally touch your palms and he feels the cold coming from you.

- „Honey, I'm sorry... Jake and I accidentally played a computer game, and by the time I got home, it was too late...” - Heeseung ready to almost cry, his hands are shaking a little, and he hesitates before he tries to hug you. - „I called you, but you didn't answer... We can have a home date now, if you want.”

•Naturally, you refuse because it's way past midnight on the clock and you're not in the mood for that. So he decides to just order takeout and put on his laptop an interesting movie that you and he have wanted to watch for a long time.

As soon as Heeseung realizes that you've given the okay for him to forgive you, he quietly walks up behind you, gently pulling you toward him and laying his head on the top of your head(because he's a huge, tall boy, YES).

- „I'm really, really sorry... I'll make it up to you, honey.” - He sighs, burying his nose in your neck.

♡Jay♡

•Jay has always been afraid of this, he was afraid of looking like a laughing stock in your eyes and now, his fears have been confirmed. Once he realizes his guilt, he'll go crazy, tearing up your phone with calls and texts.

- „Are you still there?“ - Gasping, Jay asks, listening to you sigh softly.

- „No, I'm home now.“ - You answer. Jay is silent for a few seconds, on the other end of the phone you hear the car door slam, he's about to drive home.

- „Find that movie you wanted to see. I'll be there soon, we'll have a date at home.“

•He manages to stop at a few stores with your favorite food on the way, so he'll come back with huge bags, apologies, and a cute, apologetic face.

- „I didn't know exactly what you wanted at the moment...“ - He mumbles, handing you one of the bags, making you smirk.

- „Is that why you bought up the whole store?“ - You smirk, arching an eyebrow.

- „Yeah. Sorry. And I'm sorry for forgetting about the date, too...“ - Jay smiles, kissing you on the cheek.

(I'm begging, just give me a boyfriend like Jay and I'll be satisfied, I REALLY I love Jay, aaaaaaahhhhhh.)

♡Jake♡

•Jake accidentally lost track of time and he honestly thought it was Wednesday and not Friday, so he went home like nothing happened. However, when he walks into the empty apartment and he sees your beauty products on the dressing table, his heart bleeds and he's already rushing to the door when a distraught you walk in.

After an awkward pause between the two of you, Jake sighs, biting his lower lip nervously.

- „How long have you been waiting, baby?“ - He looks at you fondly, reaching his hand out to brush away a loose strand of hair.

- „An hour and a half...“ - You sigh in response, averting your frustrated eyes, making Jake gasp in guilt.

•He'll probably draw you a hot bath so you can rest and put on some scented candles. He'll be quietly apologetic then as he leans over your face, maybe he'll even give you a massage.

- „Relax...“ - Jake whispers quietly as he runs his hands down your back. He hears your quiet, measured breathing, Sim smiles. - „Sorry again. I suggest we have a date this weekend, is that okay with you, baby?“

♡Sunghoon♡

•He'll be perfectly calm on the surface, but his heart will jump out of his chest and his eyes will run frantically around the room. I don't think it was Sunghoon's fault, but the app probably picked up the wrong date and Sunghoon didn't double-check. So when you were peacefully waiting for him at the restaurant for hours and he was already home in the bedroom, he didn't understand for a long time why you left so late.

- „I guess she went out to the store?“ - Hoon went over and over in his head several times, but when you showed up in the bedroom in your beautiful dress and makeup, he understood everything.

- „Oh... You... I'm sorry.“ - He sighed, running his hand through his hair. He expected you to ignore him, that's why you did it.

- „If I'd known, I wouldn't have rushed into this date.“ - You press your lips together, rattling to close the door and run to the bathroom.

•Sunghoon is the kind of person who will take the day off to intelligently explain to you the reason you missed your date and spend more time with you. Maybe even give you a number two home date because date number one was a bust.

- „Hey, princess...“ - Sunghoon smirks as he affectionately intertwines your fingers with each other. - „What do you think of the idea of going to the park now? The weather's nice outside, we can go out, I hear there's a new cafe opening up in that park.“

♡Sunoo♡

•Sunoo gets scared. He realizes how badly he screwed up, so he's afraid to see your reaction. Regardless of whether you keep quiet, cry, curse, or just sigh and give up on the problem, Sunoo will still stand behind you with an apologetic expression on his face.

As you make your way to the bathroom to wash off the rest of your makeup. Sunoo is left standing in the doorway, awkwardly playing with his fingers and afraid to even look at you.

- „What?“ - You see his reflection in the mirror, and your gaze softens, but there are still notes of sadness and irritation in your voice.

- „I'm sorry...“- Mumbles Sunoo, shrinking.

•I sincerely think that Sunoo apologizes with actions and not with words. So probably the next morning, when Sunoo leaves for work early, on your bedside table you'll find a bouquet of flowers, a bag of your favorite food and mint chocolate (if you don't like mint chocolate, read: your favorite chocolate).

- „Flower, did you get my gift?“ - In the middle of the work day, Sunoo finds the strength to call you. You naturally thank him, to which he chuckles. - „It's an apology for missing your date last night.“

♡Jungwon♡

•Jungwon was on the set of the new music video for the comeback and filming dragged on a little longer than planned... So when he was coming home tired and hungry, he saw you upset at your doorstep. At first he wanted to ask you what happened, but his heart gave the right answer.

- „You're freezing, let's go home...“ - Jungwon sighs, throwing his jacket over your shoulders and reaching out your hand to help you stand up. He probably asks you several times how you're feeling, not just physically, but mentally. If you don't want to talk to him, he'll let you know he's sorry and apologize several times before asking if you want him to sleep in the same bed with you or if he needs to go to the guest room/living room.

•In the morning, Jungwon will hundred percent make you breakfast in bed and send Maeumi to you with a note of apology sticking in him collar.

- „Jungwon, what's that?“ - You smirk, taking the note out of Maeumi's collar, which was hanging around your feet. The young man looks away embarrassed, smiling.

- „The note... With an apology... It's difficult for me to apologize with words, so I wrote here what I thought last night...“ - Quietly Yang answers, turning over another pancake in the pan.

♡Niki♡

•The absurdity of this situation was that Niki. He just fell asleep. And the only people who knew about the situation were Jungwon and you, but Jungwon wasn't in the dorm at that moment, and you couldn't reach Nishimura. But as soon as he woke up and saw the 30 missed calls from you and about 12 messages, he stormed out of the dormitory.

You were still sitting in that park, scrolling frustratedly through your phone in your hand, about to leave, when Niki swooped in with a hug and an apology.

- „You're late...“ - You sigh tiredly, unable to contain your smile. Niki smiles back, kissing your forehead, cheeks, and finally your lips.

- „But I came after all.“ - Nishimura smirks, intertwining your fingers together.

•As an apology, Niki won't tease you for three days and succumb to you in all the games you'll play in the games.

- „You're just lucky I love you.“ - Niki hums as you raise your hands victoriously in the air, winning Riki once again for the day, and he leans over to give you an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

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petaltexturedskies · 4 months

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The barren sadness of the landscape had a strange fascination for me. I like to battle the cold winds. Do you understand what I mean? Sometimes cheerless places have more appeal to the heart than a scene of all pretty sunshine and flowers.

Sylvia Plath, from a letter to Hans-Joachim Neupert written c. February 1950

#sylvia plath #letters

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pursuitseternal · 5 months

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“Wrap Me Up:” 🎀 A Merry (NSFW) for the Vampire Lord Astarion, “The Rogue You Were” Christmas Special 🕯️

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 5.6K of thawing his “Scrooge-ish” heart with bondage and ice play

Based on “A Christmas Carol,” because Astarion would be a total “Scrooge”

Part 2: “Yuletide in Faerûn”

Summary: He hates Yuletide, a time where he is haunted by the ghosts of Yuletides past, but you won’t let him remain so cold, not when all he needs is a little warmth and pleasure to thaw…

CW: Bondage, Ice Play, temperature play, Dom/sub tones, face fucking, nipple play, breast biting, blood kink, sex as healing, face the ghost of Yuletide past, make him look towards the ghosts of Yuletide present and future with you

AO3 link | Read “Rogue You Were” | Masterist

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Cazador was dead to begin with…. His palace redone, reclaimed by your love, your master. No longer some distasteful, neglected home of a miser and monster. It is the toast of Baldur’s Gate, the lavish, decadent crowning jewel of the city, and home to the man all admired and feared. Astarion, Vampire Ascendant.

Your love. Your Master. Your spouse.

But even still, as the streets of the city filled with snow, wet and heavy from the sea, as the air filled with the sights and sounds and smells of Yuletide, your home remained cheerless.

Cazador was dead, and so was the infamous Yule Ball he hosted in his decrepit halls—forbidden by its new lord and master. Astarion had no wish to carry on any of that monster’s legacy. A gala event meant to make his spawn work all the harder for victims at the risk of torture… a night of sumptuous darkness, where victims were aplenty, a prize for their master.

And so… Yuletide was banished. Halls were bright, but no more shining than usual. No evergreens or music or mirth. No gatherings or carols or banquets or dances.

And no… gifts. Those were his orders.

Orders that you understand, but ones that make you grieved. That make you wish to show him the true meaning of Yuletide. And you will show him tonight. To do so, you have been sneaky, subtle, deceptive. And above all… disobedient. But that only makes this plot of yours all the more delicious.

He’s been away all day, corrupting officials and threatening the right people. Turning the powerful into puppets, ensuring everyone pays their tribute to the most powerful being in all the realms. In fact, you think as you begin to peer out the window looking down into the drive, banks of snow scattered to the side and torches flaming to await the master’s arrival, he has been extraordinarily ruthless of late. These last weeks leading into Yuletide, he’s been extorting more money, squeezing favor after favor from the influential, securing all the wealth he could to line his own coffers. And all the while, he grinned that brilliant fang-toothed smile, laughing to be such a menace before the festivities.

Little did he know what you are doing in his absence. Your little secret.

It wasn’t easy to keep. You had to block out his mind, the little ways he liked to check on you from a distance, swirling into your thoughts down your bonded minds as master and bride. You were careful these last few days. Conveniently sending him only thoughts of how much he pleasures you… his hands gripping your ass, his fangs in your throat, his cock shoved to the hilt between your thighs or down your throat, the slick feeling of his cum or its rich and bitter tang….

And once he was satisfied, his presence would leave you, back to your own devices.

Even when he was home of late, he spent much of his time in the treasure vaults, counting and recounting your wealth… until he wandered back to your bed for sweet words of praise and pride in your victories… and for all the carnal ways he loved to consolidate that power with you.

And so, you were free to continue your little plan. You are free to complete your plan.

The eve before Yuletide, and you place a few finishing touches around the library. His favorite place. Not only because he was fond of books, but it is a room all of his own creation. A room free from the ghosts of Cazador’s abuse and violence.

A room all his own.

And now, you made it… festive. The air smells of fresh evergreen and holly, spiced rum punch and sugared sweets, candle smoke and… him. Of citrus and rosemary, that makes your mouth and your cunt wet. Your eyes peer out from the slit in the curtains, watching the snowdrifts billow up in the wind and weather, more flakes of white falling heavy in the night. All that soft, fresh fallen snow muffles the rattle of Astarion’s carriage as it glides up the drive.

Your heart leaps, your hand pulling the curtain back, making sure the light illumines behind you. Making sure he sees you wait for his return, his most beloved spawn in his most beloved room.

He is like shadow incarnate, his black cloak wrapped tightly around his body as it still flaps in the icy winds. Those crimson eyes catch your figure, backlit by the glow within, intrigued, suspicious, his smirking grin makes your quiver, even at this distance.

“Little love… whatever could you be up to?” His voice caresses your mind, sultry and purring to warm your soul.

“Oh, don’t be so cold, my love,” you throw back down the bond of your minds, “why not come and… make yourself warm?”

“Make myself…” he continues to purr even as he strides inside the doors to your palace, “…or permit you to warm me?”

“Come and find out, my darling…”

You can feel his approach, as if you travel as his shadow. Sensing the moment he undoes his clasp, the wet wool of his cloak flopping to the tile. Riding the movement of his legs as he climbs the stairs two at a time. Hearing the sniffs of that aquiline nose that makes a little growl resonate in his throat.

“What have you done?” he hisses into your mind, a pulse of rage and suspicion flaring down your bond.

“It will please you greatly,” you chide in reply, “as long as you overlook my loving disobedience.”

His presence pulls away, only because his hand tears the handle from the library door, the panes of its dark wood flying open to reveal him.

Where he fumes in the entrance.

Crimson eyes glow as he takes in the sight… the fresh scent of spices and sweets and evergreens making his nose turn up in disgust… his gaze scanning from the decorated mantle to the table of sweets, to where you await him near the window.

“My… defiant… little… consort,” he speaks steadily through his grit teeth. “Do you wish to tell me the meaning of all this before I punish you or will it be an extra sweet revelation I pry from you… during…?”

“Or, consider this, my love,” you give him a warm and sultry smile, “you let me, your beloved bride, your treasure, lavish you with some festive joy,” you gesture to the mantle and the table of spiced punch and sweets, “bestow upon you some adoring gifts to show my undying love for you,” you point to the two, small gift wrapped boxes waiting on the table, “and of course some very… merry… entertainment…” You would blush harder if it were possible, your hand tracing down the deep cut of your silken dressing gown. His crimson eyes darkening and dilating as it follows your touch on your own skin.

“You, of all people, my darling should know the dangers involved in tampering with the ghosts of the past that still haunt me…” he crosses the room in what feels like a single bound, his hands closing on your upper arms, his warm touch crushing you against his chest. “You are on some very thin ice… darling. Tread. Very. Carefully.”

“The Rogue I love wouldn’t shy from a fight, even against facing the ghosts that once tormented him,” you smirk up at his enraged face, you can feel his heart racing in a heady mix of emotion, see it throbbing in the veins of his neck. That powerful ascended heart. “Won’t you… at least open my gifts? Let me spoil you for once this Yuletide, as you have never been spoiled before…”

A single brow raises at that. “Well,” he sniffs, tilting his head, eyes falling to the boxes impeccably wrapped before him. “I do rather like being spoiled.” It was a quiet, begrudging sort of acquiescence. “And…” he sighed through his frowning, open mouth, “I suppose you did make a huge effort… even if it was a secret…” he hisses, suddenly giving you that gaze as if you are his next, most delicious meal, “…and disobedient… and deceptive sort of effort for me…”

You smile, such a saccharine look of innocence. “I’m glad you’re beginning to see it, my love.”

His hands fly to your chin, clasping around it before slinking down to claw gently around your neck. “I still expect much from you, darling, to make reparation for your… defiance, as loving as it might be.” You laugh, letting your throat vibrate beneath his touch, as he brings your lips in for a consuming kiss.

However brief.

He presses against your throat, breaking with that dark, conceited grin. “Now, my dearest pet,” he purrs, “impress me with your festive spirit…”

You give him that slightly pouting smile that seems to lower that haze of lust over his eyes. You keep his gaze locked, reaching for the large box,

wrapped in golden paper, tied with golden ribbon. He accepts it into his hands, sifting its weight, shaking it just a touch to feel something hefty sliding inside the container. Then, you see it, almost like the first trickle down an icicle as it starts to melt, the corner of his lips turns just a little higher.

His fingers grip the end of the bow, slowly unraveling it. “What is it?” he asks, a skeptical brow raised.

“The gift to help you chase away the ghost of Yuletide past, my love…” you grin, feeling so confident, so sure of your choices, of your knowledge of him more than he would even admit to his ascended self.

That wins you a twist of those full lips. Those crimson eyes flicker up to yours briefly as his long, dexterous fingers lift open the lid. “Is that a… crown?” pure amusement, voice tickled with the flattery only a perfect gift could give.

You reach your hands in, lifting the metal circlet from its box, the little interwoven strands of dark metal rising into little spikes. “Elegant and vicious,” you hum as you take it between your hands and raise it to rest on his tousle of silver hair. “Just like you, my roguish love.”

“Well if this is your idea of spoiling me with festive cheer…” he raises a brow, turning his head to test out the weight upon his head, “you’re exceeding my expectations.” He turns to the wall behind you, where you have draped boughs of holly leaves and blood red berries around the ornate and gilded mirror on the wall. A fixture in every room now, so he may bask in his own reflection when he wishes. He primps and preens before the glass, turning and twisting to view every angle.

“And I must say, you’ve really captured my power and prestige with something so deadly and…” He pauses lost to the silence as he lavishes in his own reflection, rubbing a finger over the sharpened edges of the points.

You sneak up behind him, where he is lost in his own reflection, that piercing red stare meets yours in the reflection. “A gift, reforged from the past… your old, sadistic master’s dagger, melted down to make you into the sovereign you have always deserved to be…”

He pouts, dramatic and whining and most of all, fake, “A dagger for a crown?” Sighing, he turns quickly to capture you in his arms. “I’ll say, it is the only acceptable repurposing of a blade. You’re lucky I love you so much, if you’re going to be turning my weapons into jewelry…” He presses his lips against your neck, “But even a crown worthy of my handsome head won’t spare you from your own recompense.”

“For my loving disobedience,” you laugh, arching your neck to expose even more of your skin. “And perhaps, you should open your second gift, my love, before you settle on any ideas of exacting such delicious… retribution. Especially now that your chilled heart seems to have thawed.”

“Me?” he rasps into your ear, “cold? Chilled? Cheeky little pup… do you forget that my heart beats now, my skin warmed over as your ascended lord?”

“Hmmmm,” you sigh, “why don’t you open that second gift, a little something to help you embrace the spirit of your Yuletide present and future with me, your own… forever…”

“Oh,” he smirked, wicked and ravenous, “if you’re my gift… and all the many ways I can play with you, I doubt you’ll fit in any little box, darling.” he gave a loud giggle, “but I can imagine how festive you would look… all wrapped up in ribbon…”

You feel his hands wandering over your body, his touch seeping its warmth through the fabric of your dress as he does wrap you in arms and presses you against his unyielding body.

“My little treat, ready to be unwrapped once she’s been very… very… good to me,” he growls in your ear. Shivers racing down your spine as you giggle. Your stomach flips upside down, despite the months of this… of being his, forever. Your body still gives you away with each encounter.

And you grin like a lovesick fool, reaching to the table beside you for that second, smaller package.

He palms its wrapped sides in a single hand, the other remains clutched firmly around your waist with his hand curved hard over the swell of your ass. He smirks, dark and playful, as he bites into the end of the bow and tugs the black silken ribbon apart with those gleaming fangs. The silk slides, no resistance as the bow comes apart in his mouth.

You know that feeling all too well. Of coming apart at the command of those teeth or lips or tongue… You love that feeling. Crave that feeling.

He lets it drop from his teeth to flutter to the floor, a finger flicking open the top of the box to fall to the same fate. Then his brows furrow, he lips drawing in a smile so wide, those perfect teeth glint in the flickering warmth of the firelight.

“My, my…” he purrs, lifting his touch from your backside to fish out the gift within.

It’s coiled, wrapped around itself, this long strand of thick and smooth, a long velvet ribbon, as crimson as his own eyes.

“Perhaps our minds are shared more than the bond formed when you made me, my love,” you taunt, a lilt in your voice as you press into him harder, letting the curves of your breast flatten, the panting of your belly push into his. “Now… are you going to finally let that cold, beating heart of yours be melted by Yuletide warmth?”

He cocks a brow, tilting his crowned head at that rakish angle, hand returning to claw around the base of chin. That free set of eager fingers slipping the gifted ribbon from the box. You gasp as those fingers pull you against his lips. He sucks and caresses with all the hunger that flares under his touch and behind his eyes. “I think I’d rather watch you melt, watch you puddle on my fingers and come when I say, my consort, beloved but also naughty.”

“Sounds like you’re burning to use your gifts, my love…” you growl between his lips. “My lover with the warm touch and the ice in his heart, a bit different than before, my love….” You rake your nails into his hair. “Now I can make you warm all over.”

He chuckles, his grasp easing around your throat, winding to the back of your neck to tilt you open for his tongue all the more. “Sounds like you’re missing that icy touch of your undead rogue, my treasure,” he snaps in return, biting down on your lower lip just enough to draw blood.

“And what are you going to do to remedy that?” you reply, a little moan coloring your voice as his hands begin tearing off your clothes.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he taps his thumb over your swollen lips. “Not a sound, not if you wish to earn my forgiveness, and perhaps receive a little sort of gift of your own in return…” you shudder in his arms, the only reply needed for him to flash you that feral, twisted grin. “Then lay down, my love, and warm yourself by the flames of the fire.”

A hand tugs apart the last laces from your dress, sliding the sleeves from your shoulders. “Oh, and you won’t be needing any of that now…” Your silken gown becomes a silken puddle around your feet. Your skin turns to gooseflesh as he scores his nails down your sides. He snaps his gift, your velvet ribbon, between his hands. “Get comfortable, my treasure, while you still can…”

His gaze scalds you, intensity beyond even your expectations. He is about to enjoy this… and you are too.

He lets you settle on the puddle of furs, the thick white skin of some animal that lines the floor before the fire. Back turned on you, he busies himself at the table of sweets and punch, the clatter of dishes enough to make you smile; he is indulging. You lounge, letting the light flicker over your flesh, letting the fire warm your skin, a cascade of heat over your back and shoulders and ass. One that almost rivals the heat that puddles and pools between your folds.

“Hurry,” you mewl, rubbing your thighs together. “I’m burning for you…”

“Don’t worry, my greedy pet,” he snickers from the table of refreshments, his back to you, purposefully hiding just what he is busying his hands with. You hear the silver spoon stirring the bowl of punch, the clatter of metal and the clacking of ice cubes as he chuckles to himself. “I’m confident there are many ways to cool that lust in your veins, darling.”

He turns slowly, his face leering at you, you see why he has suddenly begun a low rumbling laugh in his chest, a small glass holds a few of the cubes of ice, your velvet ribbon hangs over his wrist, and his eyes glow with that simmering power that crawls beneath his skin. Stalking towards you, you flash him your own fanged smile, running your fingers through the lush fur that cradles your naked form.

Astarion steps over you as you lie on your back, settling down to straddle your belly, making you work for every breath beneath his weight. “Now, for the toughest decision, just what sense to control as your reparation for such a willing… if loving… transgression.” He sets the ice down at his side, the silk of his breeches strained taught with his arousal as he covers you with his body. “Do I take away your sight to awaken all your other senses, do I gag that pretty little mouth of yours to make your screams deeper and richer… or do I bind your hands and make you crave only my touch for your release.”

He trails the soft, fluttering edge of the ribbon up and down your belly, your eyes following it, drawn to the way it makes your gaze flicker to his own straining cock. You snigger, gripping your nails shamelessly into his hips, running them down his thighs hard enough to score his flesh. Stopping only once you cup that erection you crave.

“I guess that seals your fate, my love,” he licks his lips, gripping your offending hands by the wrists to stretch them overhead. The velvet caresses your skin, soft and cool as he snugs it around you, tethering them together and binding them around the leg of the chair nearest you.

It wouldn’t hold you captive, not for real, but this… this was for fun… delightful divertisment to help him rekindle his… festive spirit.

And as he leans over you, satisfied with the work of his skilled fingers to bind your hands above your head, you moan when he slips his legs between yours. Prying you wider, grinding that confined erection against you, the slippery feel of his silken pants soaking with your arousal.

Wet and warm before the fire, every nerve ignites under his attention, flaming with your need to have his skin against yours. “Seems unfair,” you try to whine as your voice ripples more as a whimper, “for me to be so… unwrapped and ready for you to enjoy.”

“You’re going to have to beg and plead more sweetly than that, my darling,” he smirks against your whining mouth, capturing it with his. You taste the burst of flavors on his tongue, the sweet and spices of the punch, his tongue cool in your mouth from having imbibed it.

Just like old times. You shudder and moan to feel it tangle with your own, that flavorful concoction, the tingle of alcohol spiking your senses. “Mmm, delicious,” you moan against his fangs.

“Not as delicious as it will be as I taste you, my pet. Be a good little consort, plead so prettily, and you’ll get everything you desire tonight.” He gives a little extra, hips undulating into your slick, his breeches undoubtably ruined by your arousal. You groan at that ferocity, that untamable hunger. And you, you buck your hips to ride that friction. You give him what he wants, a loud mewl of your pleasure to tickle his punch-coated tongue.

“Very good,” he smirks, raising back to his knees. “I’d ask you to help me…” he taunts, rubbing his hand down the front of his decadently embroidered jacket, slowly letting his buttons free one at a time. “… but you seem already… tied up…”

“Oh, you must be feeling merry to throw such taunting puns at me, my love,” you smile.

“Hush, love,” he grins wickedly, tossing that jacket to the side, the firelight dancing over his ivory skin, rippling over all the rises and ridges of his torso. “Or if you insist on that insolent mouth teasing me, I might just have to find something with which to gag you.”

You smirk, hungry and defiant, as you stick out your tongue. A taunt. And an invitation.

“If you wish,” he growls happily, hands quick to unbutton his breeches. A split second, and he frees that cock, drips of his seed already seeping from its tip. You keep your tongue dangling as he scoots forward straddling your shoulders, until your mouth has nothing more to do than let him in.

With a groan, he thrusts into that familiar wet. Head thrown back, but not so far as to risk that magnificent crown to tumble off. He’s slow, languorous, savoring the way you’ve taken him so well. “Such a good little consort, earning your penance and more…” One hand knots in your hair at the crown of your head, the other you can’t see.

But you hear his movements, that dull clank of ice cubes on glass. And suddenly, you gasp, that frigid cold in his invisible grip, trailing its cold up your thigh. He’s so quick, his face scrutinizing your slacked mouth as he continues to fuck your throat, a twist of total delight on his lips as you shiver.

That is your only warning, the only inkling of his devious intentions before he slips that cube of ice between your folds. His mouth grins so wide, you see every tooth, his pleasure cemented as he thrusts between your moaning lips. Your body fights against his pinning weight. Thrusts begin to accelerate, timed with the swirls of that ice as he circles faster over your clit.

You feel the water beginning to drip, same as your slick, and your body shudders, heated by the fire and his body, frozen between your thighs as he still sweeps the melting ice through your seam.

Wave after wave consumes you, total swept away by the play of hot and cold, the merry dance of ice and fire that crashes through your body. It makes your buck and writhe, panting and choking on his cock between your cheeks. He withdraws a bit to let you savor your pleasure, pouring those praises over you once more, “Perfect, my treasure, coming for me so hard and beautifully.”

He chuckles, stroking his fingers through your long hair, lifting your head for a few really slow, really deep thrusts. Ones that you curve your tongue around and suck hard until you gag.

“Yes…” he growls, taking his cock back in his hand as he withdraws it from your now swollen lips, “good girl, so delicious… I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson of loving disobedience.”

“Savored the fruits of it, more like…” you grin, sultry, desirous, licking your lips clean of his juices that have already snuck out to coat your lips, your tongue.

That ice, so much smaller already, skates up your mound, your belly, settling it in your navel. “Astarion,” you screech as he leaves it there, as the chill settles over where you crave the heat and weight of pelvis, where you wish for him to crush you and fuck you.

“So greedy, little love,” he purrs. “And isn’t I who should be the greedy one? Denied any semblance of Yuletide joy for so long?”

“Then be… greedy… be naughty, and I will be very, very nice,” you giggle, deep in your throat as you watch him sliding down to settle between your burning thighs.

But not before he sneaks another ice cube from the cup. You lose track of it… until he grins with his mouth spread wide, his gleaming teeth biting down on that piece of ice, shining like crystal in the firelight. You shiver in anticipation. Waiting, watching for just what he might do next.

Angling down agonizingly slowly, his eyes lock into yours, his mouth aiming that fragment of ice for your already straining taught nipples. You scream again, bucking and writhing as the cold shoots right through you, racing down your every nerve. He laughs, taking that cube back inside his mouth, swirling that ice-cold tongue now over your flesh, sucking it hard between his lips.

“I will be undone, my love…” you groan, arching under his tongue.

“That’s the point,” he laughs darkly taking out that cube to rub over your other aching nipple as he teases and toys with it, “be undone before you’ll be… unwrapped, my darling.”

It steals your breath, making you writhe and tug against your binds as you feel every shiver down your spine consuming every sensation. Then he sets the ice, nearly gone back in your navel.

Heavy-lidded, Astarion licks his lips, dragging his tongue over his fang, announcing his next desire loud and clear.

“Hungry? Then get to it, greedy love,” you squirm and squeal as he gives a bite on your breast, just enough to bring a little blood to the surface. “Hgnf,” you groan as he drinks from you, those little hums and noises he makes as he feeds bring even more arousal pooling between your thighs.

You feel his cock hardening even more, as if that was possible, the union of your bloods, that tremor down your bond as he feeds from you, chin red with your essence. It makes him grind against your mound, cock twitching, a mind of its own to find that wet and clenching pressure he craves more than anything.

You feel that slow undulation, the tip of his length slipping into your folds, teasing just an inch inside you. The chair above your head scrapes across the floor, the ribbon snapping as you struggle against your binds. “Please,” you beg, “free me. I want you… I need you.”

“And why should I release you early?” he asks, barely raising his head from the pillow of your breast as he still laps at your blood. Eyes closed. As if he is too preoccupied to watch your agony. Even though you feel his smiling lips against your skin. “Just what would you do… if… I set you free?”

“Touch you…” you pant, feeling his cock dipping in and out again, shallowly. But he stills, unsatisfied.

“And?” he goads, slowing his tongue, eyes flickering up briefly at last.

“Cling to those powerful scars on your back, trace them since I know them all…”

Another dip inside your channel, slowly still but deeper as he withdraws equally slow.

“…and?” he smirks, licking his bloodied lips and chin.

You give a laugh, heavy with your need. “Clean your face from my blood, you messy thing…”

“Hmm,” he smirks wider, the lights catching in the red of his eyes as he scans your pale skin, where you pant and squirm beneath him. “Tempting, but…”

“Worship you,” you interrupt, “caress every inch of your ivory skin, grip hard into the clenching power of your ass as you fuck me… finally, run my fingers through your hair to keep that perfect crown on your perfect head…”

His lips twitch just once, a single arm reaching for that ribbon as the velvet release from your wrists. You groan, finally… finally touching him again, your voice rasping in your throat as he sheathes himself in fully. Already he commands a punishing pace, but you are so on fire for him, you crave it. You ride it all, legs wrapped tightly around his hips, your hands clutched into his hair, pinning that crown in place.

A good thing too, his body shaking as he loses all his control. His rhythm is feral and driven, giving no regard to anything other than filling you with his cock and making you burst with his cum. But he watches, arms pressed into the floor as his eyes drink in that sight of you. The way your bosoms sway, coated in his spit and your blood as they glisten in the soft light. The way your eyes lock into his, flickering every now and then to watch the way his pale cock spears harder and harder into you.

You snicker, a wicked idea in your head as you glance to the last cube of ice in the glass. “You wouldn’t dare…” he groans inside your head. But it’s too late. You’ve already snagged that chilling, hard lump, tracing it down the planes of his belly as you reach between you.

“Oh, I would…”

You have to be quick, but he lets you… his flawless reflexes could stop you… if he wants.

But instead he just groans so loudly as you press that ice at the base of his cock. Caressing whatever length of him doesn’t thrust inside as he fucks.

He shivers, his arms shaking as he lowers down on top of you. That crown falls into the furs at your side, but he doesn’t care. His mouth devours yours, his grunts and pants as you bring him to climax deafen you, reverberating inside your mouth.

And as the melting ice drips to your seam, you follow him into that wave of pleasure. Heat and ice, fire and cold blast through your bodies. His thrusts are merciless, slamming hard against the end of your channel, the pain adding to the heady mix that steals your breath and sends his name screaming from your lips.

He stills inside you, your greedy walls squeezing out the last of his cum, working against the twitching pulses of his cock. Resting his hot, damp forehead in the nook of your shoulder, he struggles to catch his breath. Nuzzling closer, you feel his warmth saturating your flesh, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as he lays on you and in you.

“I… should thank you, my love,” he whispers, that tenderness he saves for your ears alone. “You never give up on me, never allow me to remain trapped, haunted by those ghosts of my past… however tormenting they may be. You have… done more than make my heart to beat again, to teach me how to love again. For centuries, at this time of year… I wanted nothing more than to take one of those stalks of holly and ram it like a stake through… his heart.”

Cazador’s. He won’t say it. Can’t say it.

“But with you, perhaps it is something just the two of us may… enjoy. To savor…”

“My love,” you whisper, placing a kiss into those silken, gleaming silver locks, “you don’t need to use Yuletide as a reason to wrap me up in pretty ribbons.”

“It is rather pretty, isn’t it?” he chuckles as he raises his head, “not as magnificent as this, however…” His hand closes around that metal circlet, replacing it crookedly on his silver hair. On that head made for a crown. “Seems like you’ll need one of your own, my little consort.”

“I’m open to all sorts of gifts from you…” you purr, catching his chin to bring his mouth to yours.

“Perhaps you need me to give it to you again, my darling?” he speaks into your lips. “Another lesson for me in finding the warmth of Yuletide? I might still feel a bit frozen in the heart, if you’re not thorough, you know…”

“Avernus would freeze over before I abandon you to such a fate, gods bless it…” you catch his lips in your mouth, a good long suck in that thick lower one as you nip it gently in your fangs. Tasting the richness of his blood, the thrumming of his power that rides his essence.

“Then gods bless it,” he growls, hand catching tightly around your chin, a slight drag of his still hardened cock inside you, “every time.”

179 notes · View notes

jareckiworld · 1 year

Photo

Vanessa Smith — Farewell To This Lands Cheerless Marshes (oil and acrylic on canvas, 2022)

#Vanessa Smith #british art #women painters #21st century art

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valkyrielevitt · 8 months

Text

Porphyria's Lover

Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: The simple act of killing is no longer sufficient for Tom to form a horcrux. As he attempts to sever his soul for the sixth time, he comes across a frustrating limitation.

Inspired by Robert Browning's poem of the same name.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Tom is obsessed (and sort of in love) and bad!! He is bad in this!!! He murders the reader!!

The rain set early in tonight,

The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

and did its worst to vex the lake:

I listened with heart fit to break.

From the armchair across the room Tom watched the glow of the fireplace with a faraway gaze. The flame had withered away to something small and pathetic, beckoning the shadows of the room to spill out from their corners.

In his hand his wand lay cool and docile, the slender point of it pressing a divot into the tip of his finger. The surface of it was speckled like bleached bone, chalky white like quicklime.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

Snapped from his reverie by the sound of the old house door swinging open and shut again, Tom waited quietly as the sound of hurried feet grew closer. They came to a stop outside the dusty parlour room, and as the door swung open, the familiar cause was revealed to him.

His favourite.

Soaked through to the skin and with cheeks whipped raw from the wind outside she looked an endearingly pitiful scene. It didn’t irritate Tom in the slightest. He had always been more lenient with her. More forgiving.

A sigh of relief left her cold lips and silently she moved towards the hearth, kneeling beside the ashy grate to stoke the flames to a more triumphant height. The room must have been so cold, he thought, though he couldn’t feel a difference when the fire blazed once more. In fairness, he never felt much of anything these days.

Standing again she began to remove her waterlogged coat, her gloves, her hat. Her white shirt was wet in places, and through a little translucent patch on her sleeve he could see the pulsing dark mark on the surface of her skin. It was practically carved into her flesh,a product of his crude administration. He had forced her to forgive him. It had been his very first attempt, he reasoned.

And, last, she sat down by my side

And called me. When no voice replied,

She put my arm about her waist,

And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,

‘Tom’ , his favourite’s voice cut through the quiet, but he acknowledged her only by meeting her gaze. It was rare for him to hear that name; he could only stand hearing it from her mouth, in her voice. It was the only way to make it sound palatable to him.

At his silence she moves towards him, settling herself on his lap as she so often does when they’re alone. Faintly he acknowledges how the dampness of her clothes transfers to his as she presses tight against him, her fingers run across the front of his robes.

His first companion. His favourite.

Her fingers come up to open the buttons of her blouse, revealing an inch of chilled flesh with each unfastening. With one last tug of fabric, she reveals to him the serpentine locket pressing cold against her sternum. It is her most precious task to keep, and she had sworn to him that she would never take it off so long as she lived. He used to find himself jealous of that severed piece of his soul, mood soured by the knowledge it would always rest against her body no matter where she went.

Murmuring how she loved me—she

Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavor,

To set its struggling passion free

From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

And give herself to me forever.

His fingers came to rest against her collar, smoothing over the chain of the locket, and hers went to brush a stray curl from his forehead.

‘You’ve gone so pale, Tom’ she says quietly, but he knows that’s not all that’s changed. Her finger moves to brush over his brow, to trace the socket of one of his eyes. It’s hard for her to say for certain in the dim firelight, but she could almost swear that the brown of his iris had bled into a deep shade of red.

But passion sometimes would prevail,

Nor could tonight’s gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

For love of her, and all in vain:

So, she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

Happy and proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshiped me: surprise

Made my heart swell, and still it grew

While I debated what to do.

He had noticed the changes himself, a product, he assumed, of his recent ventures into fracturing his soul. He knew that many thought his actions excessive, that one or two horcruxes should surely have been enough, but if she thought the same she never dared to mention it.

The physical changes had been the first indication that he was pushing the limits of magic just a little bit further than the human body could suffer. With each severance of his soul it felt as if he was pushing against some great, impenetrable barrier, and as each horcrux was made, that barrier would give, just a little.

But lately it had become harder. The push required greater effort. Sometimes the simple act of killing just wasn’t enough.

At first any murder had been sufficient to fragment his soul. The method and the victim carried very little significance in the success of the procedure, but now, as Tom prepared to sever his soul for the sixth time, he was met with resistance. He had tried three times already, killing two muggles and a half-blood but with little success. It had brought him to one conclusion: The simple act of killing just wasn’t enough, and for Tom, murder had become just that - a simple affair.

His favourite leans forward. Cold lips meet, and her body goes pliant.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

Perfectly pure and good:

Tom knew what needed to be done. He kissed her again one last time, before pulling back, keeping her at arm’s length to admire her. To commit her to memory.

I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

In one long yellow string I wound

Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her.

She hardly moved as he wound her wet hair around her neck, and in her eyes he detected only a momentary lapse in her loyalty.

How strange he thought, as he began to pull that devotion which had drawn him to her was the very thing that would get her killed.

As her twisted hair tightened like rope, she surged into motion. Her frostbitten fingers clawed at whatever they could reach: her neck, his hands, his face. She pushed his head weakly, as though suddenly, after all these years, she could not stand to look at him anymore. He couldn’t blame her, and as one final act of mercy he tugged her against him, slotting her face into the crook of his neck as he gave one last fierce tug of her hair.

No pain felt she;

I am quite sure she felt no pain.

Her body stills in his arms, and goes heavy. Inanimate. Soulless. Her leg slips from where it was kneeling astride him, the toe of her leather shoe hitting the floor with a dull thud. The noise is hollow, and she feels the same in his embrace. It is over.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,

I warily oped her lids: again

Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

He kisses her cheek. It’s salty with the ghost of her final tears of resistance. Of heartbreak, perhaps, and he tries not to look too closely at the broken blood vessels bleeding blue across her face.

Instead he takes her hair, combs it loose with his fingers and arranges it across her cheek.

I propped her head up as before

Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its utmost will,

That all it scorned at once is fled,

And I, its love, am gained instead!

Something foreign settles in Tom’s chest. An ache that causes him to pull the lifeless body closer against his side, that makes him pet her hair with shaking fingers. Traitorous fingers.

He diagnoses the feeling as disgust. What sort of a death had he given her? For all her companionship and dedication, he had filthied her with this, a primitive muggle act of violence. He had granted his muggle victims the mercy of a more sophisticated death than this. It made his eyes burn and his throat constrict.

He had thought himself better than this. He knew her to be better than this.

Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how

Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

And all night long we have not stirred,

And yet God has not said a word!

And once again Tom felt that barrier shift.

#I'm a Tom Hughes Tom Riddle truther it must b said #sorry this is very dark #Porphyria's lover is my fav poem and it just fits so well #dead dove do not eat #Tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #not really canon compliant lol but we move #my writing

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m0uchie · 2 months

Text

𐙚 sweet relief

⟡ you thought that being new to Fontaine would make it a little difficult to adapt and you’d have trouble at making your business work. That’s why you’re surprised at how much people like your cafe, especially your sweets! But Fontaine (and you) can offer more flavours besides the ones you already know from your homeland!

— pairing : navia x f!reader

— warnings : NSFW; contains minor spoilers of Fontaine’s archon quest: “lies cast shadows under gathered lights” (idk if it’s right TT) at the beginning; cunnilingus; Navia is a bit possessive at the start; dom!Navia (?); she rubs herself on our legs and gets off, but I swear I don't have a feet kink ☹️; a bit rushed

— a/n : this one was originally going to be for a Navia & Furina rqst ("caught in the princess' bed"), but it ended up being too long and boring, so I changed it and saved the draft. I'm doing your requests, just too busy with uni

As the second president of Spina di Rosula, Navia has always kept an eye on the serial disappearances cases. She kept abreast of investigations if she took matters into her and the organization's hands rather than leaving it to the Gardes to solve it alone.

She said this herself after Lyney's planned big performance at the Opera House was ruined by another incident. And she was willing to help with the crime scene investigations to defend Lyney in what would later become a trial against Lady Furina.

Surely before this whole situation unfolded, she must have been very stressed about a lot of things. The weight of being the Boss was quite heavy, even though she and the organization received a lot of support. For this reason, when her head felt hot, she liked to go to her cafe.

She discovered about it long ago through some rumors. A new cafe in Fontaine, and is someone from outside? She just knew that she had to try her cooking! And maybe she could learn about it so she could make some of her recipes when she was away on a mission, if you allowed it of course. But after that day, she couldn't let go of you anymore. I mean… her desserts.

Passing through the facade, it was possible to see through the glass the variety of desserts inside the sweets counter, and your face with a silly smile as you prepared to open it. Navia would like to get to the point where she could be treated exclusively by you. She didn't know why, but maybe it wasn't just because she liked your presence, she wanted your attention to be directed only to her. And for that same reason she didn't let others accompany her when she was with you.

Your mind seems to be over the moon until you hear the front door bell ring, raising your head and being greeted by a cheerless Navia. She enters the cafe and goes straight to the front of the counter, face to face with you.

“You arrived early today. Did you wait too long?” Your brows drew together and your lips part in concern and curiosity. She’s usually a few minutes late…

Navia smiles and rests her elbow on the counter to place her chin over her right hand and approach your face, amused. “Oh? Were you worried about me?” You blush and your body retracts, turning your back to clean something that you had probably already cleaned long before opening the café.

“W-Worried? With what?" You laugh awkwardly and clear your throat. “Anyway, did you bring me anything today?” She laughs sweetly and nods in agreement.

Normally, you took care of the orders, Navia watched you make sweets, and she delivered the orders to the tables. You always said you didn't need it, but the counter wasn't too far from the tables since the cafe was small, and she wanted to help in some way. So, when there weren't many people and the service was about to close, you let Navia try some of your cooking. Or maybe just "try" could no longer be a word used, because she was at her cafe whenever she could to eat what you did.

In return, she brought you some delicacies from places she favored in Fontaine, and at the end of the day, the two of you ate your respective dishes.

In addition to sweets, you also sold some snacks and drinks, most of which you learned from your years growing up in Mondstadt. It was to be feared that you wouldn't have many customers due to the lack of flavors they were already familiar with, but somehow, your partner managed to promote your business to a large number of people, which made everything work well in the end, without much loss of customers.

You wouldn't complain about the number of people currently attending your establishment, after all, you know that you don't have much space for more than what the café already receives, not even the money for renovations and to employ more labor. However, this should not be an excuse for ignorance. Of course you wanted to learn more, you just didn't know where to start.

At that moment, you had just returned from the kitchen with a juice in hand. Navia was resting at one of the tables, waiting for you to try different drinks that you had prepared and planned to add to the menu, since the customers had already left the store one by one.

"What do you think of this one?" you carefully position the glass on the table and retract your hand, watching her reaction as she drinks the substance. "U-ugh... A bit too sweet..." she responds.

Your smile drops, a little disappointed in yourself, but Navia is ready to reassure you.

"C'mon... don't be like that, honey. Come to the kitchen and I'll help you try another recipe. Everything will be fine." She heads to the kitchen, helping you organize the materials to get started.

“What do I do first, Navia?” You turn to her, taking out the shopping she had made in the morning from inside the bags while looking at her hopefully. Little did she know that those hopeful eyes would soon become tired and downcast.

Navia dictated what you should do during the process.

But why couldn't you do it right?!

Now your face is covered in flour. A loud laugh escapes Navia, and you can't help but pout, narrowing your eyes as your face heats up and your eyes get glassy.

“You really-pfftt!! You can’t do anything” she points out.

“You can’t either!” You retort.

“Actually I can~” she smirks before you turn away with an “Hum!”

“We can learn together, how about that?” Navia holds your jaw open to push a rainbow macaroon into your mouth, her thumb brushing across your bottom lip, chuckling softly after wiping your red face.

“Don’t be sad~” you nod slowly, mouth full, trying hard to chew the dessert.

“Does it taste good?” She asks, low, velvety voice calming you as she approaches.

“Y-yea? I think so…-”

“Then let me taste it too…” you can feel her cool breath against yours from how close you are. The mood immediately changes and you can feel it in the air.

"U-umm... Navia-" your voice trembles as you try to speak.

"You look so tasty." she interrupts you, smiling knowingly despite the current situation. "You know... I've been stressed." she suddenly remarks when you try to call her name again. "It doesn't cost you anything to help me with this, since I've been helping you a lot too."

You swallow hard. "D-did something happen?" She gives you a brief peck in response, leaving you with goosebumps. "Nothing you need to know right now, just be good and help me, okay?" you nod your head, lips immediately taken by hers in a slow kiss, but hungry at the same level for hers. Her tongue tasting every corner of your mouth.

"Hmm~ it really tastes good, but I'm craving something sweeter." Her hands massage under your arms and belly, where the skin is most sensitive, making your chest rise and fall quickly, your heart racing from one second to the next.

"Oh? What's that poking through your shirt?" she teases, her fingers tracing a line just below your hard nipples. You gasp when you feel them being touched between her index and middle fingers, a playful expression on Navia's face as she squeezes them. "And no bra too. It looks like you want that."

She lowers herself between your legs, getting on her knees in front of you. Knees touching against the cold floor as she anxiously stripped you of your tight clothes.

Navia feels herself salivating at the sight of your wet pussy in front of her, licking her lips and getting closer. One hand kept playing with your breasts, a little distracted. And with the other she pushed your thigh to the side, which closed in shame just when you felt the blonde's breath on your slit.

"Keep them open for me, I wanna be able to see every part of you, pretty girl." your face goes red from embarrassment as she stares at you from below with those adorably blue eyes and lowers her head to get a taste of your juices, poking out her tongue and teasing your slit with the tip of the wet muscle. You let out a long whine and cover your face from embarrassment realizing how needy you seem to be.

"Hahh... How can this pussy be so sweet, darling?" she chuckles, finally diving in and making out with your hole, her voice muffled by her tongue going in and out of your cunt. Your breasts long forgotten now that she had your pussy all to herself, and she couldn't focus on anything other than that.

Her mouth opens wider to be able to suck you for entirely, covering her from face to chin with drool and a sweet, gooey substance that she licks proudly from her lips. You take a deep breath when she moves up to your clit and circles the red button, making her hum in acknowledgment and changing her focus to pleasure your clit with her mouth, her long fingers slowly replacing the space left between your tight walls, delicately touching the edges of your entrance and inserting the tip of two fingers little by little.

You barely noticed the way your hands were now firmly gripping the fabric of the dress on the blonde's shoulder, moaning helplessly and rolling your eyes when you felt the curve of her fingers deep inside you.

"You're loving it, aren't you? Never had anyone treat that pussy right? That should be a crime." she pouts teasingly, giving only kitten licks to your throbbing clit in between sentences. "You're so tight..." her fingers stretch and she hardens them to go as deep as she can (even though she already is) because she wants to slam them against your cervix, just the way you like. "But don't worry, we can fix this in time." you tilt your head to the side, without response as if the conversation had ended there.

Her tongue now enveloped you with pleasure again, not leaving your wet pussy alone. The grunts and groans she lets out as she sucks all your lewd juices out gives away how much she's into it. Tongue sliding up and down your cunny, her lips puffy and swollen from sucking so hard.

"You won't stop leaking~ mmmh..." she comments, despite the fact that she was practically drooling all over you, contributing to the mess in your core. Her fingers now had no use for your pleasure other than holding your trembling legs in place, nose rubbing against your bud as she went as deep as she could into your hole with her skilled tongue.

Her face was completely flushed despite how she carried herself. The tight clothes hiding the way she's soaking wet and horny, and the moans needy and loud, showing how she's clearly loving every minute of this.

Your vision becomes blurred with pleasure and you feel like you're daydreaming about reality, but it's not enough to hide Navia's minimal attempts to get off with your leg from your sight.

"Nn-ngh... Oh... Mmm." she softly whines, her hips trembling as she bends her body further to rub her cloth covered clit on your foot.

You stretch your legs more, and it's the last thing you can do sanely before you feel the knot in your belly undo and a hot liquid gush out, flooding Navia's mouth. She swallows what she can, but chokes on her own saliva when her high arrives along. Clothes now wet with sweat and your mixed essences as you breathed heavily.

She didn't move away from your sensitive core, still with her body pressed against your leg and hugging you with both hands as she laid her head on your lap without uttering a word. You'd think it was cute despite the situation. And your heart fluttered just thinking about the next time you'd taste sweets together when the café closed in the afternoon, and how much you could still learn from your new tutor.

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#+18 content #divider by cafekitsune #navia caspar smut #navia smut #navia x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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adaptacy · 6 months

Text

A Found Flame {Pt.4}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: forgot to mention this in ANY of the previous parts but i do have a silly spotify playlist for this silly man. includes a LOT of hozier because... i mean.... y'all know exactly why. (Link)

Word Count: 5.9k

“I’m not sure that I’m understanding.” You frown, leaning against his desk, raising a hand to scratch at your head, combing over his words once more, trying to make sense of them through whatever means necessary. “You’re going on a trip? You? Gale Dekarios? Mister stays-in-his-tower-all-day, the same man who sends me just to fetch fresh water?” You laugh, truly figuring he was joking. That, maybe, he was trying to play you for a fool – and yet he looked so terribly solemn, the opposition an unsettling sight, and his expression only served to further disorient you.

“Yes, the Wizard of Waterdeep is leaving his tower. I know such a feat is quite unimaginable, but I assure you, I speak with complete honesty. I have matters to attend to that require my presence elsewhere. I’ll be leaving you to the tower, though you won’t be completely on your own. Tara will remain here by your side,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. His hand pauses when it rests on his hairline, holding back the front strands to clear his view, and he looks down at the hide pack grasped in his left hand. He angles his head back up at his bookshelf, pondering which of the story is most necessary to bring along with him.

“Damn, it wasn’t the flowers, was it?” You chuckle awkwardly, breaking your attention away from your mentor to look at the flowers you’d picked yesterday, showing their first signs of wilting despite sitting in a vase of fresh water. You had only Gale’s misfortune with plants to blame. He hadn’t opened up last night, despite your ambitions, but they’d brought a smile – and the faintest of blushes – to his face, and that was good enough. Though now in retrospect the offering-slash-gift seemed a little too forward, and your attempt at a joke stemmed from the mildest of insecurities that maybe the indigo petals had given him the wrong idea and rendered him uncomfortable.

“Pardon?” He asks, standing up straight again, his backpack hanging loosely from the curled fingers that held it, and you look back at him, meeting his gaze. You can’t quite place the reasoning behind why your stomach sinks, but there’s no mistaking the discomfort of a growing pit in your abdomen. There’s a nearly mystical forlornness in the creases on his face, and his eyes appear dim; you’re sure it isn’t the lighting in the room that makes them out to be so cheerless, as he faces the sun and it lights his features up in all ways except emotionally.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Dekarios?” You ask, your tone quiet and more anxious than you mean to let on. No longer leaning so casually against his desk, you dare to take a step towards him, head craning to the left as you search his eyes, though you only find them to be harshly guarded from your inspection.

“There’s truly no need for such formalities,” he replies, straightening out his posture and taking in a quick breath, a dreadfully forced smile replacing the careful line that his lips had been forming. He lifts the backpack, jostling it, and nods his head. “I’m alright. Well, save for the slightest traces of stress, if I may be so daringly sincere as to admit it.”

You pause your approach, not wanting to scare him should he prove skittish if you get too close, and you fold your hands behind your back, glancing at the contents of the traveling pack he holds. You can’t see much, but you are able to make out the off-white cylindrical shape of a scroll. “Might I inquire why it is that you’re feeling stressed? If you know why, that is.”

Gale contemplates the request, a commonly seen – at least on Gale – introspective expression knitting his eyebrows, urging you to remain patient as he crafts a response. Eventually, he concentrates on you again, subconsciously dipping his head. “I expect the trip to be a long one, is all. I fear I’ll miss this sentimental belfry. As dusty and aged as it is, I’ve spent countless hours inside of these walls – If it weren’t for Tara, I’m quite sure I would’ve made friends of the bricks and family of the columns long ago,” he muses, his sarcasm tainted with uneasy contrition.

“Well, you know it’ll be waiting for you whenever you come back. If it makes you feel better, I’ll keep my perfect fire bolts to my own trained hands until I have you to supervise me again,” you laugh, tone purposefully parodic to lighten the mood, but the older man quickly shakes his head.

“Oh, gods, no – you’ll be doing no such thing,” he forbids, his immediate frown quickly softening out of instinct, as though he means to hide how serious his disapproval is. “You proceed with your studies and your practice, even if it is only Tara who can be present to guide you. I expect the flame to be perfected upon my next arrival,” he chuckles, and you find peace in his relaxation. Unfortunately, his pleasant expression is momentary, and the amusement in his smile fades as quickly as it came, leaving you with an unfamiliar turmoil in your gut, some twisting mix of doubt and rue.

Intent on making said amusement return, you don’t allow your own dissatisfaction to reveal itself, instead choosing to gloss over the strange ache by shrugging and rolling your eyes, further pursuing your playful façade. “Well, with you as my mentor, I’m certain I’m already on my merry little way to being the next Mystra – I’ll most definitely have a seat at the table of gods by the time you return.” Your lighthearted tease earns a quick cringe from the wizard, the outer corners of his eyes creasing as he virtually recoils, and then chokes out a fractured chuckle, shifting his gaze to the left.

Before you can ask what agitated him to the extent of deserving such a reaction, he speaks, the distress forcefully plucked from his face. “Beware – that’s quite the promise you’re making. Though it would be nothing short of an honor for this old stone nest to have hosted a premature god.”

“A bigger honor to have mentored one, no?” You remind him, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’ll be pleased so long as you manage to remember me, even once you’ve reached such admirable degrees of power. Praise my name to the high heavens – should you be so inclined.”

Why his response feels so incredibly despondent, you can’t really place. His tone takes on a strange, distant hurt – as though he were dejected by the mere idea of your potential (though rather improbable) apotheosis. However, such an attitude from the man who was, himself, mentored and sponsored by the very goddess you so jokingly threatened is… certainly implausible – it has to be – so you brush off the feeling as nothing more than a result of his unrelated stresses accidentally bleeding into this topic. Clearing your throat, you approach him, and the next expression on his face comes in the form of suspicion, though whatever mild paranoia might be cursing him isn’t strong enough to convince him to step away from you. Once comfortably close, maybe even a little too close, you look to the books decorating the dark wood shelf, pouting as you contemplate. “Fiction?”

Even if it does take him a second to process what you mean, he nods, clearing his own throat and shifting his attention to the variety of options, all of them being books he’s read far more than once, but familiarity never did keep him from enjoying the plots, or so he liked to tell you. “Indeed. I’m aiming for something to keep me company in the case of free time. Stories tend to pass that time quicker than studies, and… I’d rather leave any education material behind – for you, of course.”

“Do you plan on having a lot of free time during your trip?” You ask, merely aiming to keep the conversation up as you scan his choices, weighing the possibilities as you try to imagine what he may enjoy rereading the most.

“In all truthfulness, it may only be free time that I find myself with,” he sighs, a quiet thump following his admission, and you look down towards the noise to find his travel pack now resting on the ground. Slumped, and open wider than it was previously, the contents are revealed to your prying eyes; the silver glint of a blade, the scroll you saw previously, a jeweled ring that glows with a faint orange, and at the very bottom is a lazily-wrapped bedroll, haphazardly stuffed into the pit of the bag. You expected to find a change of clothes, a little bit of gold for wherever he plans to visit, but find only an absence of what you deemed traveling necessities.

“Where are you going?”

Turning your body reveals that Gale had moved across the room while you were investigating his package, and now he stood hovering over his desk, one palm flat against the surface. You were left only to watch the back of his head as he chose to gaze out at his balcony rather than meet your curious – and very concerned – stare. You know something is wrong, you’ve known all along, and you’d thought, or at least very desperately hoped you were overreacting. At least then you could ignore your aimless quells and instead put that energy towards cheering him up and making things better, but you are quickly realizing that whatever disturbs him is far outside of your pay grade, and understanding your hopelessness as an assistant is no help in overcoming his contagious dread. “North,” he answers, devoid of emotional attachment, his tone as dry as his throat. You shift your weight from your right hip to your left, an idle adjustment to bear whatever burdens he carries, aiming to prepare yourself for where this conversation could be leading.

“And… what exactly is waiting for you up north?” Your body moves forward in a slow three-step stride, your action haunted by the same hesitancy you exercised upon first meeting him, as if you don’t know the man who stands in front of you now.

“Solidarity.” He inhales, slow and restrained. Then his head drops, releasing that same breath. He continues; “You’re a good soul. A fine housemate – an even better apprentice. You deserve transparency, but I’ve allowed our conversations to remain fogged by my own guilty conscience. Of course, all secrecy has really done is riddle me with more guilt, and yet I prolonged your innocence.”

“I’m… not following,” you speak tenderly, the tension rising both in the air around you and in your throat, grieving whatever confession he teases before he’s even announced it.

“I won’t be returning. This trip will be my last. Due only to my own faults – there is no blame to be shared, before you ask.” He stares down at his desk, but then his focus shifts, and he watches your frame out of the corner of his eye, head just barely turned to see more of you in his peripherals. “I understand I’m asking a lot of you. To abruptly entrust you with the care of this tower, and my belongings, and darling Tara, it is a callous and inhuma–”

“Why?”

Gale falls silent, his mouth closing, his preplanned defense never making it off of his tongue. There’s stillness for far too long, neither of you managing a word. It makes you wonder if he’s trying to be cruel, leaving your mind to its wandering, silently panicked thoughts. You can’t help but begin trying to decipher the codes in his body language, in the interactions you’ve had with him recently, in the hints of his teachings gone unsaid, or in the secrets he’s never shared.

Just as you find yourself on a cliff’s edge of emotions, throat stinging with the urge to cry, your mentor stands up straight and approaches you, stopping when he’s a few inches away. He reaches for your wrist. He holds it, tenderly, the delicacy of his touch posing a silent request. Only after investigating the melancholy hazel of his eyes do you lift your wrist towards him, allowing him to guide it until you find yourself in a distantly familiar position.

He stands before you, holding your wrist in the space between your bodies while his spare hand takes a hold of the neckline of his robe, sliding it several inches down his chest, revealing the full mark of the weave, scattered brown hairs hardly shielding the brand from exposure. From there, he raises your wrist a little higher, and you recall the last time he allowed you to get this close, the memory leading you to straighten your hand and lay it against the pulse of the blight. Your touch is gentle at first, but when he gives a small nod, you ease your concerns and press more firmly, feeling the surprising softness of his skin, the texture of the hairs on his chest, and the distant beating of his tortured heart.

Last time, you recall being mildly surprised at the heat it produced, as it had been centralized in such a small location. This time, you feel the artificial warmth radiating off of his chest from further regions than just the pinpoint location of the orb. And it’s much higher in temperature than you remember, his ribs home to a silently raging furnace. You can’t help but feel intimidated – not by Gale, but instead by what he contains. It beats much like his heart, but it’s slower, and yet even more determined. While you hardly understand why, you feel connected to a starving malice within him, some inhuman spirit that seeks a meal you aren’t sure truly exists, at least not in this realm.

You look up at him, his eyes trained on the hand that rests on his chest. You’ve never seen worry so clearly displayed on his face; his eyebrows aren’t furrowed, but they’re firm, drawing faint lines in his forehead. His mouth doesn’t frown, it idles, waiting for the words to come to him before he makes any attempt to speak. His story is told in his eyes; the way he counts your fingers as they stem a connection with the weave, grounding himself in the stir of emotions, his gaze troubled and lost, nothing more than a clueless shell of the powerful sage he makes himself out to be. The powerful sage he’d made you believe in.

“It is the only god I answer to.” Gale meets your eye, the emotions that swirl behind his irises cause them to tremble, and you feel as though he seeks something from you. “It is all that I am; a vessel for the weave. I cannot run, I cannot hide, I cannot escape it. Try as I might to keep it satisfied, there is always more that it craves. This wildfire within me will reign carnage unforeseen by any prophecies, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it. The artefacts – they hold it back, but I’ve found it burns with newfound impatience. It wills for destruction, whether it be the body of the host or of those around me. As difficult a choice as it is to make, it is an inevitable one, and I much prefer the former of my options. I’d rather no books be written about the Wizard of Waterdeep than bard’s fables on the extirpation caused by his shameful gluttony.”

“So you’re going north?” You whisper.

“So I’m going north,” he repeats. “I’ll travel until I reach empty plains, perhaps even uninhabited mountains. Some place quiet, some place lonely, some place where my curse will not befall others. This is my fate, and mine alone. I only pray that my final chapter is selfless enough to rewrite Selûne’s judgment of me.”

“Why haven’t you told me any of this before?”

Gale hesitates, and you see the ridge in his throat flinch as he gulps. “I thought it to be a mercy; to spare you from the truth was to spare you wholly. In hindsight, I recognize that this cat would claw its way out of the bag no matter the precautions I took, and my secrecy ultimately worked against my intentions – which I assure you, were nothing but the best – to protect you. Recently, if I may confess, I’ve come to doubt my decision to take you in.”

Your eyebrows flinch, you blink, unsure how you should respond – unsure how he expects you to respond. “Doubt?” You ask, deciding to allow him to share his story before you form an opinion on the matter.

“I believe I was desperate – not that I was fearful,” he clarifies, though the thin, watery line that sits on his lower eyelid betrays his defense, “but I reckon I didn’t think over my original promise to you as thoroughly as I should have. The truth is, I needed a second life. A chance to extend my own through a means that I understand, and have always understood, to be impossible – ambitious at best. I worry for Tara. I worry for this home. I worry for the secrets contained in my journals, or the studies that I have spent my entire lifetime, as short as it will soon be, perfecting and building. I yearned for an insurance; a way to prevent my existence from being a worthless one. If my intelligence enlightens no minds, if my studies save no lives, if my talent manipulating the weave means nothing, then I am nothing. I only wish to be more than a mere vessel for this scourge in my chest.” He pauses, his gentle hold on your wrist growing a bit firmer, and he closes his eyes, as though ashamed of the confessions he whispers. “My worries led me to you, believing you to be the answer to them. I never could have predicted that you would become my greatest worry of all.”

Now, you let your lips curve into a frown, and he seems further wounded by your physical reaction. “More than a vessel? That’s–” You can’t prevent a scoff from leaving your throat, and you shake your head. “You’re not just the orb, Gale. You’re a person. You were a man before it, and you’re still a man now, aren’t you?”

Gale’s hurt turns to confusion, and he shakes his head as well. “You’re not understanding.”

“No, I’m not,” you cut back, disbelief clear in your tone. “You’re the Wizard of Waterdeep. You act like you’ve never done anything of importance.” You retract your hand, and Gale is hesitant to release his grip, but he does nonetheless. “What are you even running from? If you want to make a difference, then stay and make one. Did you eat a bad meal? Are you seriously thinking straight?” You question, brows furrowed.

“Your words flatter me, but I fear I haven’t made myself clear. I can’t stay. This mistake is not a mere embarrassment, this is not just an attempt to flee from my problem. There is no avoiding this fate. I’m going to die.”

It’s unlike you to feel genuine frustration – anger – at a situation, especially one brought on by Gale’s words, but you can’t help the near boil in your chest. “You sound pathetic,” you huff, and Gale’s lack of insult only irritates you further. “Look around, Gale! Look at you.” You point at the black circle on his chest, prodding it with your finger. “You told me, when we first met, that you were a prodigy. That you were a master of the weave. I mistook you for arrogant, but that was being modest. You were, you are, Mystra’s chosen – who are you talking about now? Because I know it’s not the Gale Dekarios who has sheltered me, taught me, and supported me. I know it’s not the Gale Dekarios I’ve shared books and home with for the last year and a half.”

“You sound like my mother,” he chuckles, as if anything about the situation is amusing. “I’ve heard this speech before. You need not waste your breath on an inevitable doom such as myself. Please, save it. There are much better words to spend your time crafting.” He doesn’t scold you, he doesn’t defend himself, he merely deflects your disagreement, and you scoff – you’ve heard self-deprecation from him before, all of the prior remarks being attempts at humor, but there’s no sarcasm lacing his tongue this time around.

“Do I mean nothing to you?” You ask, stern, barely keeping composure.

That question seems to stir something within him, and he frowns. “Of course you mean something to me. You mean plenty to me – more than you may ever understand. Don’t be foolish.”

“Yet you keep refusing to hear me out.”

“There is nothing to hear out,” he argues, a short sigh leaving his lips, signs of a growing irritation. You feel the need to latch onto that – to see him get angry means that he cares, and you needed to know that he cared, because he spoke about his own death as if it held the same importance as a simple meal. Like this suicide mission he threatened was a mere walk in the woods. It made you sick.

“Grant me an audience, if you care. Even if you don’t care about yourself – if you care for me, as you’ve said you do, all I ask is that you listen.”

“There is no changing what I’ve been afflicted with – there is no undoing this curse I’ve wrought upon myself,” he continues, taking a step back and closing his eyes, searching for some kind of calm. If he believed you would grant him that mercy when he refused to have any mercy on you, he was more of an idiot than you’d ever expected.

“You’re being unreasonable. For such an intelligent man, you’re closer to a jester than any wizard I’ve ever known. You are not just this curse – You are a scholar, and an accomplished sage, and a friend, and a son, and a mentor!”

“For the love of all that is blessed – stop talking!” He barks, shaking his head, his eyes squinted, his stress forming shallow lines across his forehead. He takes a moment, breathes, and then opens his eyes again and steps forward, placing his hands on your shoulders as though to steady you. “No matter your words, I am still a threat to every living being around me. The orb is unstable, I know this for a fact. I am living on borrowed time. Should I stay, I risk leveling the entirety of this city we call home and dousing it in a thick red paste that was once the breathing civilians. I have studied this feat, and all that may relate to it in even the slightest parallels, and there is no solution. No amount of words – read or heard – can prevent fate. Yell and bicker to your heart’s content, but know that it will all amount to nothing.”

“You speak without a care in the world for yourself. Aren’t you scared?” You’re pleading at this point, unable to grasp the idea that he’ll be gone so soon, that this disappearance has been building for as long as you’d known him and yet you remained utterly unaware. It was the content of nightmares, and yet he stared you in the face with such assurance.

“I am terrified,” he sighs, grip tightening on your shoulders. “But I must trust destiny’s path for me. I will walk this road alone, just as I truly deserve. Your ‘great mentor’ is no more than a shell of a mortal man, and I have survived off of my greed alone. I could not be content with everything Mystra so graciously offered me, and I am facing the consequences of that naivety.”

“What are you talking about?” Again, you shake your head – you aren’t sure what else to do. You’re completely lost, unable to help the man you pledged your allegiance to. The man who took you in, who looked after you and asked only for your assistance in return for his undying generosity, is in need of assistance and you, his only trusted assistant, are completely unable to help him. It feels cruel, to him and to yourself.

“Mystra was not merely my mentor. She was everything to me. My entire world revolved around her, and to an extent, it still does – She guided me to possess the wonders of the weave in ways I never imagined possible, and did it all while allowing me to share a bed with her, and find a place within her heart. I owe my life, body, and soul to her, and yet I was not pleased with the power she lent me.”

Only further confused, you blink several times, his words finding your mind a difficult place to settle in with the tornado of thoughts and feelings that raged within your skull. “You– You were her lover?”

“I understand it’s hard to believe, a mere mortal man laying with her holiness, and it only deepens the canyon that is my regret. I believed I could prove my undying love for her through means no other mortal has ever even dared of imagining. Well, through means only one other man has ever dared attempting. Do you recall the story of Karsus?” He asks, taking in a deep breath, and you reply with only a small nod. “See, when Mystra was resurrected to rule the weave, there was a part of the weave that remained inaccessible to even her great power. A fool I was, to believe I could retrieve that final piece without repercussions. In my pursuit of professing my boundless affections and gratitude for her, I opened a pandora’s box, and when Mystra learned of my disobedience to her orders, she left me. Rightfully so.”

“She what?” Your jaw slacks, the buffet of this new information providing only a headache where you expected answers. It made sense, now, why he was so touchy at the mention of her – this curse he found himself hexed by was caused by his feelings for her, feelings you never even knew existed, and she’d abandoned him in his time of need?

“As you know, the piece became one with my body, and has left me with an incurable appetite for the magic contained in enchanted artifacts. The temporary stabilization those consumptions provided has long past fled, and I find the orb entirely out of my control. Without satisfaction, it threatens to rupture, and it will reign tragedy on my surroundings with my body as the time bomb – you understand I do mean that quite literally. I am a danger. A threat. I am the blight within me, no matter your objections, however passionate and good-spirited they may be.”

It isn’t only the presence of his hands that make your shoulders feel so heavy. It was far too soon in your apprenticeship for him to part, but with the urgency in which he spoke, it wouldn’t be long before he left. You were angry – or, at least you most certainly should be angry. You should be yelling at him, scolding him for springing this on you at the last possible moment, and you even go so far as to lock eyes with him, prepared to voice your pounding thoughts, and yet it’s the eye contact that renders you speechless. The only thing you feel aside from your confusion is a stirring guilt. Your mouth falls open, tongue seeking the words that your throat lacks, and you shake your head, pleading with him, pleading with his fate.

Gale looks at you with pity. It stings worse, like salt in the open wound that was your bleeding heart, to know the man who would soon be forced to tangle with death took pity on you. The hands on your shoulders pull you in, and you lean into his chest, expecting to cry, but you can’t even manage tears. His arms wrap around you, and your upper half falls limp, relying on his strength to support you. Strength you’ll soon be without.

It’s stupid to cry, and you’re almost glad that you fail to do so. It’s stupid to be worked up over. The entire situation is hopeless. Perhaps there is solace to be found in understanding that it’s inevitable, that there is nothing you could possibly do to change the circumstances, but you struggle to see that as a silver lining.

There was still so much to learn – so much he needed to teach you. He was leaving you a fortune, a home, even a companion, and yet you were utterly ungrateful. He didn’t understand, he couldn’t possibly understand, that you’d only ever be satisfied with him, and there was no point in communicating that now. It would only serve to increase his guilt, and he deserved what little peace may come with believing you’d somehow manage without him. Eventually, you aren’t sure how long it takes exactly, you return the hug, your hands clasping behind his back.

The mood is long past soured, but his warmth is unchanged. The comfort he provides is as persistent and reassuring as ever, even if it does little to quell your concerns. Your appreciation of him thus far, as endless as it has been, has certainly not been enough. So you appreciate this moment as much as you can, burning it into your memory. His warmth, the faint, familiar scent of sandalwood and sage, the sound of his breathing – his presence as an entirety. Memories would never do him justice, you knew that, but memories would soon be the best you could manage of him, so they had to be perfect, clear, permanent. Even when you tighten your hold on him, refusing to give him up so easily, he doesn't say anything, allowing the bliss-laced ignorance of fate to linger for a little longer. Where you just about burrow into his chest, his hug is much gentler, polluted by the bittersweetness of his proclamation. Although the contact is minimal and noticeably restrained, his chin rests on one of your shoulders, his stress evident even in the reticent huffs of his breathing.

However much you wish otherwise, the hug too comes to an end, and Gale pulls away, leaning down to be perfectly eye-level with you, an all-too-familiar snide smile on his face. He holds your jaw with one hand, while the other remains on your shoulder, and both hands squeeze where they rest. “I have no doubt that you’ll make me proud. All I ask is not to let this place rot away without me. I don’t expect you to carry on my studies, or ‘gain a place at the table of the gods’. I only wish for you to find success. Follow your dreams, the whole spiel. Wherever you may find that happiness is entirely up to you. I’ll rest easy so long as it is found.”

You return his smile – as empty as it is, you want to give him hope. Of course, it’s hard to pull from an empty trough, but perhaps he doesn’t mind. With a pat of your cheek, he stands up straight again, taking in a breath and returning his attention to the books he’d been perusing before the whirlwind of a confession. Helplessly attached, you lean against his side, shifting your attention as well. After a few moments of scanning, you approach the shelf and reach for the faded orange cover of a book, the silver words embedded on the spine having lost their shimmer long ago. Gale tilts his head, curious at your choice, and you glance over the cover before handing it off to him.

“The Would-Be Saint,” he remarks, taking hold of the book and looking over it himself. In search of a confirmation, he looks up at you, meeting your eye. You nod, and only then does he reach for his traveling pack and slip the book inside.

“When do you leave?”

“I’ll make my departure this afternoon.”

“I’ll miss you.” The words have to be squeezed out of your still tensely tightened throat, and you offer another small nod, not wanting to say more for fear of cracking. The two of you would never see one another again – you want to leave him with a positive image of you, you’d hate to add to his worries. Staying strong wouldn’t make up for your inability to fix the situation, but at least it was something.

“I’ll miss you too,” he replies, still smiling, and you wonder if he is attempting the same false composure as you. Your perception of him could never be ruined, or even damaged, but you remind yourself that you should still be grateful for the generous thought.

Then, there’s a moment where you can’t quite read his eyes, as the anguish in his expression is clouded by some other, notably foreign, emotion. It lasts just a moment – and then he looks away, towards his balcony, and clears his throat, and the mystery vanishes. It leaves you with a new, small but certainly present, twitch of discomfort, and you attempt to follow his lead, distracting yourself with the surroundings.

“I need to gather a few more items to bring along with me. If you’ll excuse me,” he says, dipping his head and moving towards the door. You reach for him, catching his arm and stopping him in his tracks. He looks back at you, his face slightly red, but you assume it’s due to the vulnerability he expressed in the conversation.

“Please don’t leave without saying goodbye,” you request.

He sparks a small smile, and he shakes his head. “I would never. I’ll return to you for a better final moment. I’d hate to leave this off on such a melancholy note.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You hold his gaze for an extra moment before releasing him, trusting him wholly; he wouldn’t lie to you. Especially not about this. He gives one last nod before walking away, and you decide to spend the rest of your morning in his study, picking up spare items that are out-of-place, making the room a little neater. It’s a nervous tidying, most certainly, but you hope it will keep you busy. And you want his final viewing of the study to be a pleasant one, not one tainted by his stressed irresponsibility.

– – –

“I’ve made a mistake. A terrible, nightmarish, dire mistake.”

“Oh, you’ve made plenty of those, Mr. Dekarios. What is it this time?”

“I can’t leave. I can’t possibly leave.”

The tip of her tail flicked, and then a low purr followed, vibrating with a sense of pride – of amusement. “Foolish boy. You’ve realized, haven’t you? I’d believed you’d be clueless enough to remain completely unaware; you had me worried for a moment there.”

“Worried?” He squints at the Tressym, confusion replacing his guilty expression.

“You didn’t really think I’d be so eager to release you? Oh, you doubt me. I’m wounded. You don’t have the heart to disappear. You just needed a reason to stay.”

“I don’t want a reason to stay.”

“But you’ve found it, haven’t you?”

“Against my better judgment.”

Another purr, this one sounding more akin to a chuckle. “What mistake have you made, dear?”

“I’ve allowed my heart to overrule my head.”

“A wondrous thing, love is.”

“A treacherous thing.”

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