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merotwst · 1 year

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EVEN WHEN THE LEARNING'S DONE AND NOTHING'S NEW !

‹ . housewardens ›

· scenario drabbles

⇝moments that happened in your married life.

[ n: a little something to get myself out of a writers block. not proofread and not very confident of my writing bcs ahaha i havent written in a hot minute + no motivation. this took me almost a week to finish but i still hope u guys enjoy ! ilyyyy ]

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- - - → tw. children (does that count as a tw?????? idk man kids jumpscare in kalim's part)

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riddle rosehearts ‹ heartslabyul ›

it wasn't rare for riddle to be working so late. he was a busy man and lived up to his parents' legacy of being the best of the best. you were aware of this when you said yes to his proposal to spend a life with him forever but as his spouse, it pains you to see him overwork himself sometimes. it wasn't the first time you woke from your quiet slumber at 2 in the morning to an empty space beside you. your feet padded across the cold marble floor through the hallway adorned with photographs gilded in gold of you and him that have been taken over the years. a soft knock at the mahogany doors to his study and a quiet response from the other side permitting you to come in. the tea on the tray you carried made riddle sigh with relief, the tension in his body seemingly fading away. he had a soft smile on his face as he brought the teacup to his lips.

“come to bed, riddle. it's so late.” you urge him gently as you made yourself comfortable on one of the chair on the other side of his desk.

he gave you weary look, “i'm not sure i can yet, my love. there's still so much work to do.”

you let out a soft sigh, “i figured as much.” you whispered, standing up and walking around the desk to give him a soft kiss on the lips, “i'll be heading back to sleep then.” you inform him and quietly made your way back to the room.

it wasn't rare for riddle to be working so late. he was a busy man who lived up to his parents' legacy of being the best of the best. it was rare, however, for him to softly close the bedroom door behind him leaving his study and his paperwork unfinished to slip under the covers and wrap his arms around your form.

“what made you change your mind?” you asked, a loving hand on his cheek.

“you did,” he said with a sheepish smile on his face, “you always do.”

⑇

leona kingscholar ‹ savanaclaw ›

when you choose to accept a prince's request for your hand hand marriage, you're not only accepting him as a person, you're also accepting the responsibility that comes with becoming royalty. since the day you and leona exchanged your vows, for better or for worse and till death do you part, the title of royal has been embedded onto your name and cemented into sunset savannah's history for all eternity. what you do and say will be seen, heard and talked about by the public. it's your duty to be present, not just for your husband the royal family, but for yourself as well.

so you do your part. you attend the balls, you speak out on important issues that need attention. you smile, you wave, conversing with other country's political leaders and powerful people. you learn to adapt and navigate through the life of a royalty one step at a time. you were doing your best but sometimes it felt like it wasn't enough. and that's when he comes in to yank an ipad out of your hands and snap you out of your trance. he says dwelling on ridiculous articles and getting yourself all affected negatively by it doesn't do anyone any good. that's when he wipes the frustrated hot tears from your cheeks as he sits beside you on the bed, a softer tone now etched in his tone when he spoke, “i know it isn't easy.”

you sniffle in response, your voice shaky as you spoke in uneven breaths, “i'm trying so hard,” a sob, “why does it always feel like i'm always running short? why am i sometimes being treated like i don't know what's happening?”

leona's tail flicks, “did the articles tell you that? or was it the servants whispering in the halls? the people in the ballrooms?” he places a hand on your chin and gently makes you look at him, “listen, i don't know what you overheard or read—but the fact that you undermine your own achievements for the validation of other people is annoying the shit out of me.”

his eyes bore into you as his hands squeezed yours, “you're not royalty from birth, but the amount of things you were willing to change—willing to do just so you can be with me still constantly leaves me in awe. the politics, the royal etiquette and other pointless bullshit takes years to master. you're almost halfway through the progress bar despite being so new to it all.” leona places his forehead against yours, “even if the whole world is against you, i'll be by your side. i've never been more proud to have you as my partner. fuck everyone else.”

when you choose to accept a prince's request for your hand hand marriage, you're not only accepting him as a person, you're also accepting the responsibility that comes with becoming royalty. since the day you and leona exchanged your vows, for better or for worse. you've done all of this just for him. you would keep doing it just for him because know he'd kidnap every star in he sky if you asked him to. you can cry, you can scream, you can be angry—but he's always there and always will be and till death do you part.

you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in the entire time. and with a raspy voice and a genuine smile, you whisper back.

“fuck everyone else.”

⑇

azul ashengrotto ‹ octavinelle ›

homesickness is something you've dealt with the first time you were practically punted over to this twisted world you now reside in. but over time, you realize that this world was always more comfortable for you. it became home whenever you were in the arms of your lover. you found comfort in azul's arms so gentle and tender around you—as if you were the rarest and most fragile seashell he picked up from the depths of his home in the sea. eventually, you stopped thinking of the life you've left behind. you were happy here and that's what mattered.

likewise, he found his home in your arms around his neck in a warm embrace like the first rays of the sun just as the winter season was coming to an end. but unlike you, azul had access to his home. he just never had much opportunity to come back to visit. his life with you on land was what you both collectively decided on. a house near the beach, but nowhere near where his home is at. just enough to breathe in the salt air and the cool embrace of the ocean breeze on his skin. and on more than one occasion, you've seen him let the waves wash over his feet after he'd come back from work. his shoes in his hands as he mindlessly watched the sun set over the horizon.

“a penny for your thoughts?” your hand subconsciously finding its way to his, fingers interlocking together and fitting together perfectly.

“just thinking of the coral sea.”

“i've told you last time we should go to visit again.”

azul let out a sigh and you knew why he didn't like going back to the coral sea—to several memories of his past littered across every corner of the place. he looked at you wearily, the dimming orange beams of the sun coated his face with a lovely hue that made him look almost ethereal and melancholic.

“it's hard going back there sometimes,” he admitted, his head hung, “it took a lot for me to take you back there... to show you everything i've been running away from.”

“and i love every part of it. every part of you, azul.”

you squeeze his hand gently, “it's never always sunshine and calm seas. and i'm always here to embrace you when storms come.”

homesickness is something azul's never really dealt with in the years he's been away from sea. he was happy to be out of there and start anew—but he didn't have a home. no, he was always relying on himself. but over time, he realized that this world was always more comfortable with you. it became home whenever he was your arms, his lover. you were his new home. and no matter where he would end up, he always finds himself running home to you.

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kalim al-asim ‹ scarabia ›

“baba's here!” was exclaimed by an energetic boy popping out from the blanket fort you all built together. giggles bounced around the walls as little pairs of feet padded along the floor. the children both ran to their father, the younger one trying her best not to trip and fall on her way there. kalim, who was still in conversation with jamil as he entered the room, had been cut off by the squeals and giggles of the children running to his embrace.

“ya malayiki! 'abi saeid jidana liruyatik maratan 'ukhraa!” (oh, my angels! dad's so happy to see you again!) your husband exclaimed excitedly, wasting no time kneeling to catch their warm embraces in full, “have you two been good?” he asked, lifting your daughter up in his arms earning an excited giggle from her and taking your son's hand in his free one before standing back up, “naeam ya 'baba!” (yes daddy!), your little girl giggled excitedly, “we built a house!” she squealed, pointing at the blanket fort. it was quite a big fort filled with small fairy lights and plenty of pillows and maybe a few snacks littered here and there from their 'construction break'. you three had spent hours making ‘the biggest house for baba’ for when he would get back and the kids are evidently very proud of the outcome of their hard work.

“(maman/baba etc.) said we could sleep here tonight!” the little boy chimed in, shaking his dad's hand to catch his attention. kalim could only grin widely at this, “well,” he started, “since you both worked so hard building the house, i say we all sleep here tonight!” the gasps from the kids and the happy cheers that followed indicated the joy they felt. he's always been a natural with them and you always adored him with children. it's just that he can get quite busy sometimes, which even he has told you about how saddened he is whenever he's apart from his family. and so whenever he has time, you can be sure every second is devoted to you and the kids. his whole heart is with you, after all. always has been since the moment he laid eyes on you all those years ago.

“alright kids,” he said, placing a kiss on your daughter's cheek and squeezing your son's hand gently, “jamil will take you to get you cleaned and ready for bed, okay?” they both grinned in response, “okay!” the kids said simultaneously.

“kalim.” jamil gave a disapproving look, “how many times must i tell you that this is the nanny's job and not mine.” he said in an annoyed tone while simultaneously taking the little girl in his arms and holding onto the boy's hand. this is when you come in from behind, wrapping your arms around your husband's waist, “aw, but they like you, jamil. don't you, kids?”

“i love uncle jamil!” the younger one giggled, “he's one of the funny grown ups.”

jamil let out a defeated sigh, “come on, children. let's get you both cleaned up.” he said, softly shaking his head and if you looked close enough you could see the soft smile on his lips as they walked away.

as soon as the silly questions of, ‘when will you get married’ and ‘can i pet your parrot, uncle?’ faded off into the distance, kalim wasted no time peppering every inch of your face in kisses and tackling you to the blanket fort as both of you giggled and laughed like middle schoolers rolling over the soft silky fabric under your skin. safe to say no matter how old you get, the love you and your husband share will forever remain the same as when it first blossomed from years ago.

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vil schoenheit ‹ pomefiore ›

vil liked to keep things organized. he liked to keep a schedule he strictly follows like the skincare routine every night or the color patterns of what fashions he'd decide to wear that day. it's the same as when you were both courting. he had a routine to follow whenever you would see each other on a date. flowers, then he'd check if you dressed right, take you out and give you the best night of your life.

and you know how people say ‘change is good’? well, there are also some things that stay the same over the years. and that was good for you, too. like how he'd book the best restaurant in the city or take you out for a romantic cruise on your wedding anniversary. those nights were always perfect. and at the end of those nights is the same as well. paparazzi flashing their cameras at your face asking the most ridiculous questions. people getting in your business. that was the down side of your relationship with vil, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. you knew what you were getting into the day you married him.

but oh sevens. when will they give you a break? it's your wedding anniversary with vil again tonight and he had a whole evening planned out for you. but there was a swarm of paparazzi outside the penthouse you were staying in. your husband had an upcoming movie and that had everyone abuzz and trying to get some statements out of him. there were so many to the point where you both had to go back inside because you could see the camera flashes with your eyes closed. well, you could. vil was used to it. but he wasn't about to force you to run out there with him again. your perfect night hasn't started yet and you already looked exhausted from that temporary encounter. vil silently cursed them for that.

after maybe 30 minutes of waiting for them to leave and with no luck of it ever happening, the blonde stood up from his spot on the couch, “that's it,” he spoke with a tone of finality in his voice, “get changed, darling. we're leaving.”

the confusion was evident in your face and it only made sense when vil came out wearing a hoodie, jeans and mask over his face. he hated wearing such common looking clothes, but sometimes situations call for it. and for you, frankly, he would do almost anything.

vil liked to keep things organized. he liked to keep a schedule he strictly follows like the skincare routine every night or the color patterns of what fashions he'd decide to wear that day. he absolutely hated when his plans wouldn't pull through but sometimes he finds serendipity in even the most dreary situations with you. you could spend your anniversary on a special yacht with the best waiters serving you first class meals and a candlelit dinner or just in a parking lot inside your car with cheap wine that you both agreed tasted awful but kept drinking anyway and at the end of the day, everything still works out. as long as you're by his side, he can learn to be contented even with all the disorganization of ruined plans as long as he's laughing to trashy radio podcasts and temporarily (today's a special exception, he says) ruining his diet for you.

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idia shroud ‹ ignihyde ›

your husband, your favorite person, best friend, the only one you love enough to spend the rest of your life with... can sometimes be a little irritating. you know idia better than most people around you. he wasn't exactly the easiest person to get to know because of his very reserved personality but he is one of the smartest and funniest people you know. and you'd hoped that since he is one of the smartest people you know and you're actually married to him, he'd lend a hand when you're trying to do a little bit of spring cleaning to at least make the house look like it's a habitable place and not just a reserve for an endless supply of red bull and monster energy drinks. though the house wasn't necessarily ‘messy’, but it always seemed pretty empty and lacking a bit of life to it. so you thought of doing a bit of rearranging, putting up new decorations and replacing a couple furnitures which you both had bought and majority picked out by him.

this has been the third time you'd checked in his office and your patience was growing thin. you watched him from the doorway as he typed away some sort of code in his computer which was the only light source in the room. you crossed your arms as you called out his name, “idia shroud.” before flicking the light switch on making him hiss at the sudden brightness. he flinched upon seeing you. uh-oh. you used his full name, this can't be good.

“i've been calling you down to help me assemble the table. i'm not good at building things!”

“and i told you i'd be there in a bit. i'm just finishing things up around here.”

“idia.”

“okay! fine. jeez you don't have to threaten me.” he threw his hands up in the air in defeat as he stood up from his chair, “you're lucky i love you.”

you cocked a brow at this comment, arms still crossed across your chest and he rolled his eyes, “fine. other way around, i know. i'm lucky you love me.” he sighed but this time with a smile on his face as he leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead, “now where is that table you need me to build?”

your husband, your favorite person, best friend, the only one you love enough to spend the rest of your life with... can sometimes be a little irritating. but you know idia better than most people around you. and he sometimes would seem detached and spends most of his time in his own company in front of his computer, he truly cares about you and your happiness. the amount of love he shows through the things he does, even the most menial of tasks like bearing the new, less darker curtain colors that you wanted to put up on the windows or stopping whatever new project he was trying to develop to help you move the new couches around the house. he would never do this for anyone else. and as you both sit under the kitchen counter, a bag of open chips on the floor and soda in your hands looking over at the new house makeover you both spent all day working on, you smiled.

“i'm lucky you love me.” you said, taking a sip of your soda and putting your head on his shoulder. he let out a short, breathy laugh before placing a soft kiss on your temple, “wanna go play mario kart and ruin our newly bought couch with chip crumbs?”

“sure.” you said, slowly standing up. you took a few seconds to stare at each other before you started sprinting to the couch, “last one to get there is in charge of cleaning it up!”

“hey, no fair!”

“nothing's fair in mario kart, babe!”

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malleus draconia ‹ diasomnia ›

and speaking of painting, he'd snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the metal part of he paintbrush clinked on the glass of the jar as the painter dipped the brush into the water. he gave you a glance where you were sat, looking straight at the back of the canvas as if trying to bore a hole onto the painting focusing on keeping your face straight and expressionless as instructed. it was traditional for briar valley's royalty to have their portraits painted whenever there was an addition to the family. and this case, the new addition was you when you both married. and now as he sat beside you, stealing glances he was sure you noticed by the way your lips twitched, he couldnt help but think of how the morning sun's rays seeping into the room that bathed your skin with the soft golden glow of the 10:00 am sun. it made you look absolutely beautiful. well, you always looked beautiful in his eyes. it's why—

someone cleared their throat.

“your highness,” the painter called out to him, “eyes front, if you please.”

he quickly straightened himself, “my apologies.” he hastily responded. he could hear you suck in a breath beside him, probably trying to contain the giggle that was trying to escape your throat.

another 20 minutes of silence passes. just the soft brushing of the paintbrush against the canvas and the occasional clink of the glass could be heard. he couldn't help but steal a glance at you again but to his surprise, you had your eyes on him as well. upon seeing his gaze shift to your figure, you immediately played it cool pretending you weren't looking but the way the smile threatened to break your facade betrayed you. malleus couldn't help the corner of mouth from twitching.

you did your little inhale again to try to compose yourself but uncharacteristically for him, he found that quite humorous abd had to clear his throat to keep him from letting out a laugh.

now that made you break out a smile and clear your own throat to try and stop yourself from bursting into full blown laughter.

you heard the irritation of the painter in the way he placed his paintbrush down. he stood up and gave you and malleus a sharp look before speaking in a very annoyed voice, “i shall go and have a drink delivered to both highnesses as to aid you both in the supposed strains on your throats.”

he made his way to the door, grumbling to himself about how ‘undignified’ or how ‘not taken seriously’ the situation was.

there was a moment of silence before you and malleus burst into a fit of bubbly laughter. his laughs were in his chest escaping in low vibrations while yours were loud and sharp simply to show how hilarious you found the situation to be. with how glorious both your attires were for the portraits looking like the epitome of royalty, the way you were both giggling like teenagers simply threw all the gloriousness out the window.

you once told your husband that one of your most favorite things about him is his smile and the way it so gently breaks out around you. his booming laughter that follows as you eat dinner at the big, lonely castle that was once the place he walked around alone that now feels more alive after he'd married you. even the most boring events in his life that once he would have been forced to accept in all its blandness would be splashed with the most vibrant colors whenever you were in the picture. his life, his love, his pride and joy—you. now that he's seen colors he never would've imagined to be possible to exist in all its dazzling beauty, he can never go back to the dreary shade of gray that hazed over his life. you were his freedom, and he would be ready fight the world to hear your laughter by his side till death do you part.

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alecvolturiswifeforever · 6 months

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Lost time | D.V x Reader

warnings: pretty fluff!! little bit of implied smut at the end but that’s it :)

ʚɞ

“My love, are you nearly finished yet?” Your mate grumbled from his spot on the bed, sprawled out with his ankles crossed and arms behind his head.

“Truthfully?” You turn to him for a moment with a weary smile before turning back to your essay. He hummed in agreement to your question, and you replied with a mumbled ‘not at all’.

He let out a loud groan as he rolled over to bury his face in one of the many pillows. Do not get me wrong, he supported you whole heartedly when you told him you wanted to continue your studies, continuing into university despite meeting him and finding out about the existence of his kind. However, due to a loss of quite a few lower guards when a fight had broken out a few nights ago, the masters had opted to put some of the higher guards (including him) on extra duty shifts to cover for the lack there off.

This therefore meant you had been spending little time together, taking every opportunity you could whether it be two minutes or two hours to spend with eachother before he was to leave again, though you knew you needed to get your assignment completed before you lost the motivation, so this time around you had made the harsh decision to ignore him.

“Do not groan like that at me Demetri, I told you I will give you attention as soon as I have completed my assignment, and we can- hey!“ He cut you off mid-scold by shutting the large textbook in front of you, picking you up and moving you over to the bed. He laid you down in his previous place before moving to lay on top of you, careful not to crush you. All the while you protested.

“Demetri Volturi let me go! I need to complete this! It is important and is worth nearly half of my grade for this semester!” You wriggled and struggled in his grip but to no avail, he did not let up, nor did he say a single thing. You huffed loudly.

“DEMETRI!”

“For the love of the gods, Y/N, please just stay still and let me love you!”

“I need to get my work done!”

“Beautiful, I appreciate that this is important to you but I am also important! This is the only time I have to spare for the next three days and I refuse to have you complaining because I cannot be with you and give you attention. So for the love of the gods, be quiet and cuddle with me!”

You look at him, rolling your eyes.

“You’re so dramatic, baby. If you were feeling touch-starved all you had to do was ask.”

“Is that not what i’ve been doing for the past ten minutes?!” He looked at you incredulously and you sighed.

“Okay fair point, you win.”

He smirked in triumph before placing his head back on your chest. The only sound which was heard for a series of minutes was your soft breathing before you let out a loud sigh.

“Are you really not going to be able to give me attention for three days?” He looked up at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Not as much attention as I can normally give you… forty-five minutes a day max?”

“For three days?!”

“For three days, amore. That means we need to make up for lost time, now”

You huffed with a frown on your face and he smiled at you sympathetically. You stared at the ceiling again before blurting your next thought out loud.

“Cant you just tell them to fuck off?” Demetri used his speed to sit up, pinning your arms down by the sides of your head.

“Were you given permission to use that sort of language?” He questioned with a scowl on his face and you sighed.

“No”

“And what do people who use that sort of language get?” He continued

“They get a punishment…” You smile as you realise where this is going and you look at the clock. “How much time do you have before you have to leave again?”

“Enough. On your stomach. Now.”

ʚɞ

taglist: @your-next-daydream @agirllovespancakes

#demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #demetri volturi imagine #volturi imagine #volturi fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight #volturi #the twilight saga #alec volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi

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chosetherose · 18 days

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Two Graves One Gun

So Long London continues the saga of celebrity versus soul. The only way to cure Taylor’s sadness is for her to bid farewell to bearding, and perhaps the closet.

If you can look past the red herrings in this song, you will find a deeply layered masterpiece that illuminates Taylor's battle with herself; how past plans made to maintain her celebrity have marred her soul. She doesn't want to live life like this anymore and is willing to burn her brand down to the ground to free her soul.

As always, the analysis I've written here is only one interpretation of this song. I'm not claiming it is "correct" but I encourage you to plow through (this is a very long post) and consider what I've laid out.

For context, I believe London is a metaphor for bearding. Here is some background for the new folks:

For most of her career, Taylor’s beards have been from the UK. Specifically, from 2012-2023 her beards were Harry Styles then Calvin Harris then Tom Hiddleston then Joe Alwyn.

The beginning of this stage was right around the time she started crossing over into pop music. Red is her first real leap into pop music and to do this successfully she needs to expand both domestically (to pop audiences that don't listen to country music) and internationally (her first opportunity for this since the rest of the world doesn't listen to much country music).

She started bearding with Harry Styles in late 2012, within weeks of Red's release then milks that short lived stunt for 1989 as well. What a way to capture a new pop audience made up of fans abroad and at home. Rinse and repeat until her priority changes to long-term privacy and she finds that aided by an unknown actor named Toe. Even though Taylor's current beard is American, suffice to say one can look at London as a metaphor for bearding given history.

[Intro]

So (So) long (Long), London (London) [repeated]

Pay attention to how she sings this...She breaks "London" into "Lon" and "Don".

So SO / Long LONG / Lon LON / Don DON

This is a sneakily beautiful way to emphasize: So! Long! Don(e)! ...Like "I've been bearding for so long and I'm done with it" or "So long, bearding! I'm done!" Yes, this is a reach but read the rest of this post and circle back. As this intro closes the final "Don(e)!" fades into the upticked beat.

[Verse 1]

I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away

My spine split from carrying us up the hill

Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

I stopped trying to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill the safe

Taylor seeing fairy lights through the mist sounds like she sees daylight at the end of a tunnel opaque from lavender haze. She keeps focused on this goal, carrying on with all these beards over the years. Although she's able to appear calm during these stunts, living life like this has forged a rift within herself. She beards because it's advantageous for her brand but her soul despises the ruse.

Side note: “Keep Calm and Carry On was a motivational poster produced by the Government of the United Kingdom in 1939 in preparation for World War II.” -Wikipedia. A bit of history that I think furthers the idea that Taylor was battling to keep going.

Tayor has to balance these aspects of herself continually - Too much stunting? Her soul needs a break. Had a good break from stunting? She needs to feed the grocery line Swifties to keep them at bay. It's an idea that got me thinking about yin and yang, "an opposite but interconnected, self-perpetuating cycle." (Wiki). I am not an expert on this concept but I know I've noticed it has come up throughout conversations about TTPD. If yin and yang is relevant for this album, as I believe it is in multiple songs, in the context of this verse it feels related to Taylor's constant need to find balance between the celebrity version of herself we see on our screens and the true version of herself only she can see in the mirror.

This cycle wears on Taylor so much that her spine splits from the weight. She has been slogging through stunts, dreaming of freedom, for years. It's been storming so long her clothes are soaked and she feels the chill down in her bones.

Because of the pain she decides to change strategy. Theres no more attempts to make her situation lighter or find ways to deal with it. And think about this - if you're trying to drill the safe open it means either A) you feel like you've tried all the codes and are resorting to brute force, and/or B) you're running out of time and growing desperate. Taylor is past even those points and is giving up entirely.

[Chorus]

Thinking how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy

So long, London

You’ll find someone

The chorus reminds me of talking to a past version of yourself that made plans for a future you. We know Taylor must plan her life years in advance so perhaps she is asking her past self something like, “Why did you think I could handle continued bearding? Did you really think I could handle all the sadness I'm feeling today?”

Then I think the second half of this chorus is saying goodbye to bearding, symbolized by London, because she can’t bear the sadness anymore. Maybe the "you'll find someone" line is aimed at the fans a la "you should find another guiding light" like you guys will find someone else to fawn over in the tabloids.

Side note: I love the double entendre here. Because so long means goodbye but it has also been so long that she’s been bearding (largely with British men).

[Verse 2]

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out

I founded the club she's heard great things about

I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath

I stopped CPR, after all, it's no use

The spirit was gone, we would never come to

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free

I don't have a strong opinion on the first two lines of this version. What comes to mind is she didn't opt in to be an openly LGBTQIA+ artist, she chose to closet and beard. Then other younger closeted celebrities have looked to her as a blueprint.

In the process of bearding for stardom, her soul abandoned all she knew. I think there is a red herring here as Heath could reference Hampstead Heath (which has connections to Toe) but it’s also continuing on the house theme that Taylor sings about. Here, it doesn’t sound like this house is a home. She’s not singing about chandeliers flickering inside, it’s “the” house by a heath -- “Heathland is characterized by plants such as heather, bilberry, gorse and bracken, which occur on infertile and well-drained soils. Open heaths have been highly modified by humans for centuries and are maintained by grazing or cutting.” She’s stuck somewhere that’s by drained her via death by a thousand cuts lol.

Again, it's weighed on her. So she's decided to stop trying to revive the disconnect between her soul and her celebrity, it’s no use trying anymore. She’s realized they could never fully come together.

And she’s pissed off she let her celebrity rob her of an open, free, youth where she could live truthfully. Recall that in Peace she sings, “a coming of age has come and gone” which to me means she feels she can’t explain a coming out via a youthful awakening angle. She’s at the age where people will understand she’s known this for years but hasn’t shared with the world. This will raise questions she won’t be able to answer because it’s all too tangled (NDAs, outing beards, etc.).

[Chorus]

For so long, London/ Stitches undone

Two graves, one gun

I'll find someone

For so long, she’s been bearding, stunting, hiding her true self to reach and/or maintain celebrity. It’s caused her stitches to come undone. This wording is interesting because it implies she had a wound from living this life hiding her truth, they tried to fix her up as her celebrity status soared, but it didn’t work because the sadness was too great.

Perhaps there's two graves and one gun because on the path to daylight she will kill both her celebrity and the sadness of her closeted self. Not how she switches from "you" will find someone to "I" will find someone. This is because she will destroy every version of herself that she's ever known if she comes out one day. She will rise like a Phoenix through the ashes to discover a new version of herself in the daylight.

Note that the Spotify clip for this song, from the Fortnight video, feels significant. First, Taylor looks up toward the daylight. Then, with heavy breaths and a concerned face, she rifles through her art (words written out on a typewriter). We know in the rest of this scene she is lighting her art on fire. Two graves one gun on a path to daylight.

[Bridge Part 1]

And you say I abandoned the ship

But I was going down with it

My white-knuckle dying grip

Holding tight to your quiet resentment

I imagine these first lines of the bridge to be aimed toward those in her life, on her team, etc. that steered her toward closeting to gain/keep fame. Maybe she has plans and they are saying by coming out she is abandoning the ship (her celebrity) they've all worked hard to build. In Miss Americana we heard her team tell her that coming out as a Democrat would halve the numbers of her next tour. Can you imagine what would be said about a coming out?

But what they don’t understand is that living this life is killing her. She’s been holding on to all the subtle ways they’ve told her over the years that her career will sink if she comes out of the closet.

[Bridge Part 2]

And my friends said it isn't right to be scared

Every day of a love affair

Every breath feels like rarest air

When you're not sure if he wants to be there

When she confides with her friends about it all they tell her she shouldn’t be afraid to take steps toward the daylight because look where she is now. She’s been stunting for years (love affairs in the tabloids) and it's awful for her. So terrible that she's grasping for breaths, unsure if she can still survive in this atmosphere (thin/rare air means its not a hospitable environment for Taylor).

[Chorus]

So how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

How much tragedy?

Just how low did you think I'd go

Before I'd self-implode?

Before I'd have to go be free?

Again, I think she’s talking to her past self here. “How could I have thought I’d survive sinking this low? How could I not realize I’d reach a point where I’d self-implode?” Which here, self-implosion is telling a similar story as I think the two graves one gun lyrics do — the result of the self implosion is being free. If she blows up her celebrity and she will be free to live her truth, curing the sadness that has been ruling her life for years.

[Verse 3]

You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waiting for the proof

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place

I imagine this verse is aimed at her fans, the grocery line Swifties who believe her beards are real boyfriends. I read “you swore that you loved me but where were the clues?” as a sarcastic jab because she’s been screaming 🌈 for whoever is willing to listen. The fans claim to love Taylor but they aren’t willing to really listen to her.

Most people here “altar” and think of a wedding but the definition is much broader, “In religion, a raised structure or place that is used for sacrifice, worship, or prayer” (Wiki). So Taylor was up on the altar, a place of worship, waiting for clues that these fans actually loved her. But what started as worship became sacrifice as these fans never found love for who Taylor really is all the while the bearding and hiding were causing Taylor deep sadness.

Despite all this, she loves her job and her fans. The sadness is too much though. She is about to self implode and feels its time to take steps toward a brighter future. It’s maddening as hell to metaphorically blow up your life just as your fame is escalating to new heights you’ve reached for your whole career.

[Chorus]

For so long, London (So long, London)

Had a good run A moment of warm sun But I'm not the one So long, London Stitches undone Two graves, one gun You'll find someone

For so long, she bearded. She had a good run, getting away with it all, reaching levels of fame she always dreamed of. But she's not the one to keep the charade going (as opposed to her heroes who unfortunately 'died' closeted). Goodbye, bearding. The wound was too big to fix. With one action, I will kill the version of myself you (the fans) know and the version of myself I know. You (the fans) will find someone else to worship.

...

I could keep tweaking this theory for weeks but these are my initial thoughts on this song about two weeks out from TTPD's release. This album is incredible complex but for me the signs we keep getting are all pointing toward significant change. There is a momentum going right now that I haven't felt since the early Lover era. No matter what happens or how long it takes, I hope our fearless Chairman gets the chance to bask in the sun shiniest daylight. She deserves the warmth.

💕 CTR

#forgive me there are probably minor edits needed #but #I can’t proofread this again I just need to press post

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somedaylazysomeday · 3 months

Text

A Grand Deception - Part Two

Some weeks after your infiltration, your shop receives an unexpected visitor.

Continued Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors, please do not interact

Word Count: 4,600

Warnings: Money concerns, overworked employees, lying, discussions of sexual experience, discussions of keeping a mistress, kissing, fingering, unprotected sex, handjob.

Previous | Masterlist

---

The weeks after your excursion passed in a rush of activity.

It had been simple to burn the gown you had worn to the masquerade. The day after the ball, you cut it into sections of fabric, disguised those in baskets of scrap material, and sent all of it to a nearby furnace. Your mask had ended up in the Thames.

Speaking officially, it was not the time of year when your dress shop was busiest. The late months of winter saw a few requests for dresses and other articles of clothing, but most ladies had already purchased a full wardrobe by the mid-point of the season. Other than the occasional wedding trousseau, you would not see more orders until the weather began to grow warmer.

However, you found yourself busier than usual in early February because one young lady had worn a dress with a particularly daring neckline to a recent ball. She had been met with censure by mamas in the ballroom, but had received some six proposals the next day. Young ladies and their mothers across the ton were demanding gowns altered to feature a similar neckline.

It was a simple enough alteration to make, but time-consuming with the delicacy of the fabrics. You and your two assistants found yourselves occupied with sewing from sunup until your eyes could no long bear sewing by candlelight in the evening.

“I cannot stop crying,” Beatrice announced, rubbing at her watering eyes. Lottie reached out without truly looking, preventing Beatrice’s dropped garment from falling to the floor. “How many more dresses need to be altered?”

“Seventeen,” you answered without counting. The ever-shrinking number had been your sole source of motivation, and yet it was still a terribly large number.

A stunned silence met your answer. You sighed, lowering the dress you held onto the table you were all sharing. “Finish the dresses you are working on, ladies. After that, you may go home for the evening.”

“It is but six,” Lottie objected. “And we have seventeen-”

“I am well aware, trust me,” you interrupted. “We will not finish our orders this evening regardless, and we only risk ruining fabric if we continue to work while our eyes are weary. Finish what you are working on and I will send messages for the remaining fourteen. I will offer them a lower price for a later completion date. We will start work a half hour before dawn tomorrow in hopes of finishing sooner.”

“Can we afford to accept a lower rate?” Beatrice asked softly.

The impertinence of the question was excusable with how hard you had all been working, but even more so because you were warmed by her use of ‘we’. The business was yours, but it was wonderful to have two assistants who cared as much as you.

“We shall be fine,” you assured her, smiling. “Come now, finish that gown. We cannot have you weeping on the fabrics.”

Beatrice wiped at her streaming eyes, smiled, and bent back to her work. Lottie had been sewing steadily while you spoke and finished setting her stitches first. You examined her work, deemed it perfection, and dismissed her for the evening. Beatrice was not far behind, though you had to stop her from trying to surreptitiously pick up another gown.

“The work will be here tomorrow morning,” you promised. “Good night. Be safe.”

The gust of winter chill that blasted through the back room of your shop pulled you from the comfort of your seat. You needed to search for the names attached to the gowns that were not finished, then send notices to them.

It was no easier to write by the trembling candlelight than it had been to sew. You closed your eyes when the notes were finished, stealing a moment to breathe.

You would never burden them with your worries, but you had not been entirely truthful with Beatrice and Lottie. The shop could survive discounting your rates for the unfinished necklines, but your funds were already low. You needed whatever business you could steal until the spring brought a flurry of orders for light weight dresses.

The spring inventory had been ready months ago, and you were pleased to see that they were still on-trend. Your store had only to survive until the days grew longer and warmer. It was your responsibility to see that your doors were still open in two months.

When you felt worry shift toward self-pity, you cut the thoughts short. You gathered your stack of notices and stepped out into the piercingly cold night, waving down a few messenger boys and instructing them where to deliver your notices.

The cost of the deliveries was unavoidable, yet you felt the weight of your financial struggles bear heavier on your soul as you returned to the warmth of your shop. Perhaps you would attempt to finish another neckline or two before you closed up for the night…

The bell above your door jangled cheerily and the cold of the night rushed in, turning the warmth of your stove to something barely above freezing. You turned, striving for an even tone as you requested, “Please close the door.”

Your guest did as you asked, turning to pull the door shut against the wind. You took the moment he was facing away as an opportunity to gather yourself.

What Benedict Bridgerton could be doing in your dress shop, you hadn’t the slightest clue, but he did not know your true identity. He could not.

When he was facing you once more, your expression was politely neutral. “How may I help you, sir?”

“I- am looking for silks,” Benedict said, his explanation disjointed. “For my sisters, of course. I have been tasked to find someone who can create garments for them. Do you-? Is that a service you provide here?”

“Yes, sir,” you agreed. “I am no modiste, but I can shape silk garments well enough. Do they need only custom items? I have a selection of pre-made garments ready for sale. Gloves, scarves, bonnets..?”

“I believe they need custom garments,” he told you, peering at you far more intently than was necessary from the question. “What is your name?”

You smiled, leaning forward to ask conspiratorially, “Did you not see the sign above the door?”

Benedict looked stunned, then a wide smile broke across his face. “You are the owner?”

“None other,” you confirmed. Who else would you have named the store after, if not yourself? It had been your labor that brought it into existence, and you had thought it only fair. “It is my greatest accomplishment.”

“It is very impressive,” he agreed, looking around appreciatively. “Though I believe your greatest accomplishment was fooling a ballroom of people into thinking you a member of the Sharp family.”

You had expected this, but you had also expected that he would hint about it more subtly. You stared at him in a silence that stretched far too long. “I do not understand.”

“I recognize you,” Benedict said simply. “You wore a mask, but nothing could disguise the intelligence in your eyes or the strength of your wit. To find that you own a successful business is wonderful, but far from surprising. I expected nothing less of you.”

The compliments mollified you slightly, gave you hope that he did not intend to drag you into the street to be accused of trespassing or worse. “Why are you here?”

“We did not finish our conversation.”

It was a simple answer, but it still made you laugh aloud. “That is true. But what could a Bridgerton care for the opinions of a dressmaker?”

“Let us forget, for a moment, Bridgertons and ballrooms and social status,” Benedict suggested. “I greatly enjoyed your company when we met. I would like to spend more time with you. Do you feel the same?”

You could not lie to him: “Yes.”

He nodded, though he was already smiling again. “Good. That is… good.”

“I must ask, though…” You lifted your chin, staring him in the eyes. “Precisely what would you like to do in the time you spend with me?”

Benedict hesitated for only a moment. “Whatever you would like to do together. I will not pretend I do not find you desirable, but I would never push that on you.”

“Benedict, I am no blushing virgin,” you warned. “I am no whore, but I have known men. Does that bother you?”

“Not in the slightest,” he said instantly. “I am experienced as well. Why should it bother me that you are not untouched?”

“The motivations of men are beyond me,” you said with a shrug.

Benedict smiled at your faux-despairing tone. “On the topic of male motivations, I will state mine plainly: I wish to make you my mistress.”

You considered the proposition for a moment. It piqued at your pride, though you had no objections to Benedict as a partner. “Why can we not simply enjoy each other without worrying about what we call our dalliance?”

“I would prefer to have an arrangement between us,” he revealed. With an apologetic look from under his lowered brows, he added, “I fear I might become rather jealous of your time.”

Men, you thought irritably. Why could they not allow something to exist without attempting to own it? “I do not believe-”

“I would provide you with all of the usual benefits of being a lord’s mistress, of course,” he interjected.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And let us suppose that I am unfamiliar with the customs surrounding the practice of keeping a mistress. What benefits?”

“I will rent an apartment for you. I will meet you there,” Benedict explained. “I will provide for your needs - food, clothing, and whatever else you may require to live a comfortable life while you are my mistress.”

A sudden inspiration overtook you. “I have a counterproposal. I would like you to invest in my shop. It would not be charity, nor would you be purchasing anything untoward, but I would furnish you with a percentage of my profits at the end of each year.”

Benedict eyed you. “You… want me to support your business. Instead of supporting you?”

“Yes. I can support myself and, if we decide to form an attachment, you are more than welcome in my home. But this is what I value the most.”

You gestured around the room. It was warm and cheerful, a candle reflector spreading the light of a long taper. That golden glow lent an intimate illumination to the finished dresses and bolts of fabric around the room. A mirror triptych with a stool in the middle helped you with fitting in the daytime, but after dusk, its reflection served as another light source for the room.

“This is what I would choose for you to support if we were to be man and mistress.”

“For a second time, you have sounded uncertain of this,” Benedict pointed out. “If you have doubts about this arrangement, I will not force you into anything.”

“I simply believe it would be wise for us to see whether we are well-matched in the bedroom before we make commitments of any kind,” you said.

Benedict’s look of shock was strong, but it melted into a lascivious smile soon enough. “You need not convince me. But first, I should ask… How many investors does your business have?”

“You are the only one.” You paused. “Or perhaps you were asking about other relationships in my life…”

“No, I truly was asking about your business,” he hurried to say. “And I am honored that you are allowing me to take part in something of such importance.”

“I have no other lovers,” you clarified, on the chance that was also a concern for him. “Not for a while.”

“Neither do I,” he murmured, stepping closer to you. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

The last sibilant letter had scarcely touched the air when Benedict pressed his lips to yours. One of his hands rose to cradle your jaw while the other cupped heat against the side of your neck.

His lips were gentle against yours, asking for your acceptance instead of demanding it. You met his kiss softly, but your eagerness shone through the way you leaned closer. In the tightness of your grip against his forearm as you steadied yourself. In the way you were the first to deepen the kiss.

Benedict made a noise of surprise, but it was clearly not one of displeasure. His hand tightened against your jaw, tilting your head to a better angle. The brush of his tongue against yours was welcomed, and you gave a satisfied sigh even as the furor inside of you raged higher.

Time passed by as it ever did, yet you both seemed unaffected in the peace of your shop. It seemed a mythical burrow of some magical creature - a warm, quiet hiding place allowing some comfort against the chill pervading the busy street outside.

When you finally parted, Benedict wore a dazed expression, and you were certain your own face mirrored it. Neither of you spoke immediately. For your part, you were entranced by Benedict’s reddened lips and the quickness of his breath.

Your voice was low enough to keep the scene intact instead of bursting it like a soap bubble. “I do not believe we need worry about a lack of compatibility.”

“No,” Benedict agreed, his eyes crinkling with his smile. “How much experimentation do you intend to do tonight?”

“I would prefer to have a final decision before you leave my shop,” you answered honestly. When he seemed surprised, you hesitated. “If you object, of course, we can plan to meet up another time…”

Benedict shook his head immediately, the motion strong and certain. You were relieved; the ache that had been building between your legs would have left you very unhappy if it were not sated.

“Forgive me for asking yet again, but I must know that you are certain. I am willing to wait as long as you require-”

“I am certain,” you interrupted, laughing softly. “I truly am, Benedict. In fact, I am nearing desperation.”

His eyes went dark. “We cannot allow that. Where should we go?”

“One moment,” you requested. He waited patiently as you locked the door, then beckoned him toward the back room where you had been working with Beatrice and Lottie.

The back room was smaller than the main shop, but even warmer. The lack of a large mirror in that space left it slightly dimmer, more intimate with the shadows filling the corners of the room. There were designs hanging on the walls, bearing your theories of what fashions might change between this season and the next. Scraps of fabric overflowed from a basket in one corner. Lottie had sewn together a charming little dog out of some extra fabric one slow day, and he presided over the basket.

“I like this room,” Benedict announced as he followed you in. It did not appear to be false flattery, as he studied every detail he could. He seemed particularly enamored by your designs. “These are quite good. You have a particular talent with lines.”

You laughed despite yourself. Even before you offered an explanation, Benedict was smiling at you, sharing in your joy. “I should hope so. What is sewing if not a collection of lines?”

“I believe you are right, though I’ve never considered it before,” Benedict admitted. He reached out to tangle his fingers in yours, tugging you closer with your joined hands. “You must forgive me. I find my interest thoroughly captured by one thing in this room above all else.”

“The patchwork dog,” you guessed. “His name is Scrap. You needn’t be embarrassed; he captures the interest of all.”

You had never before had occasion to be kissed while smiling, but you found it intoxicating.

It seemed you had only just begun when the kiss began to change into something far more intense. While your previous kiss had been lovely and glimmering with tension, this was filled with intent. You stroked over the muscles of Benedict’s jaw before weaving your fingers through his hair. From there, it was a simple thing to walk him backward until his legs met the edge of your worktable.

He made a noise of surprise, eyes opening to search yours. You glanced behind him. “The table is full, but I believe we can make good use of that chair.”

Benedict looked back as well, taking in the sight of a dozen neatly written dress tags, an assortment of sewing needs, and a diagram of how to alter the necklines of the gowns you had been working on. His gaze traveled last to the chair you had indicated, excitement flaring in his expression when he faced you once more.

“I believe we can,” he agreed, voice low and intimate. “Shall we… oof!”

Shoving a gentleman forcefully into a chair was inelegant. From the surprise on his face, this was the first such encounter Benedict had experienced and you were likely not doing credit to your social class. Unfortunately, you were far too impatient to allow for anything more leisurely.

You straddled him a moment later, hastily shoving at your skirts to keep from sitting on them. There were far too many layers of fabric between you as it was.

Benedict recovered quickly from his shock, his hands roaming eagerly over your body as you kissed once more. Your fingers were busy unfastening the row of small buttons holding his waistcoat closed, then worked on the ones fastening the neck of his shirt. You pushed the fabric away the moment you had finished your task, luxuriating in the feel of Benedict’s bare chest. Coarse hair met your fingertips and you kissed him harder as your body realized what was about to happen and responded with a surge of excitement.

“Wait,” Benedict urged, catching your hands in his to still your explorations. “You have yet to lose a single stitch. And, if my sisters are any measure, undressing a lady requires time. We must hurry; I am desperate for you.”

You considered undressing, but discarded the idea after a single moment. While Benedict was quickly stripped, you were wearing far too many layers to allow for such a thing. At any rate, the air in the shop was cool and exposing yourself to it entirely seemed a poor choice.

“Allow me to compromise,” you proposed, tugging at the skirt of your dress until you were pressed against the fabric of his breeches.

Benedict still wore a confused expression, and you took his hand in yours. It took little urging for him to put his hand under your skirt and run his fingers over the cloth covering your mound. When he found the slit in your drawers and his fingertips made contact with your folds, he released a choked gasp.

“One moment.”

The next instant, you were were back on your feet. You had no recollection of standing, but Benedict’s hands on your waist told you that he had likely towed you upward. Without you blocking his access, he worked efficiently at the buttons of his breeches, quickly freeing himself from their confines.

You caught a single glimpse of his cock, rising hard and proud from the puddle of the clothing that he had hastily shoved aside. Your study was cut short when he hauled you back onto his lap.

“Allow me to ask a final time,” he started.

“Yes,” you interrupted, kissing him again as you stroked him. The texture of a man was one you found incredible - hot velvet over unimaginable hardness. His tip was leaking liquid, ready to ease the push of him inside of you. From the state of your underclothes, it would be unnecessary, but the response of his body told you that his hesitation stemmed from consideration for you rather than from misgivings of his own.

There was some amount of fumbling in getting yourselves positioned perfectly. Benedict tore a section of your skirt. You lost your balance twice. He ensnared himself in your drawers while trying to sheathe himself in you. During that last misstep, Benedict treated you to a blistering curse at his own foolishness while you laughed.

“I vow to you, I am not as clumsy as I appear,” he explained. Embarrassment was not an emotion that seemed to come easily to Benedict, but color had risen in his cheeks.

“Have you already forgotten our evening spent together?” you asked. “Of the two of us, I was by far the clumsier. Allow me.”

You reached between you, nimbly avoiding both your skirts and his breeches to take him in hand once more. Benedict twitched in your grasp, thrusting helplessly into your palm as you guided the flushed head of him against your entrance.

If pressed, you likely could have deciphered which of you had moved first. However, in the moment, the magic of you lowering yourself and him arching upward thrust him into you in a long, slow stroke. It felt as if the moment would last forever, and yet you would never tire of feeling him stretching and filling you.

When you blinked, you were sitting on Benedict’s lap once more, your body working to reconcile itself with the pleasurable invasion. Your chest rose and fell with your quickened breaths, your toes curled against the chill of the floor, and your hands were fisted in the unbuttoned halves of Benedict’s waistcoat.

“‘S everything well?” Benedict asked. His voice sounded strangled, and you felt less embarrassed by the tremble in your own.

“Yes.” And because of the expressions playing over his expressive face, you returned, “And you?”

Benedict gave a short laugh. “I believe ‘well’ would be understating the way I currently feel. You are… incredible.”

Heat rose in your face. You had not been complimented for quite some time, especially not in such a blunt way. Still, you sought to brush it away as if you were unaffected by Benedict’s praise.

“And I believed the flattery would stop when we shared a bed.”

“Flattery? My lady, I speak only the truth.” Benedict tilted his head back, all the better to stare up at you. “Though you have made a grave error. If this is the only way I can convince you to continue our arrangement, I will do my utmost to win you over.”

“Then do,” you challenged.

Benedict grinned, though it went a little slack as you lifted up on your toes to start riding him in earnest. His hands rose to your waist, helping you rise and fall on him in an ever-quickening pace.

Your panting was loud in the quiet room, drowning out all sound from the street outside. Benedict was breathing heavier as well, matching you as your shared pleasure grew. Occasionally, a sound would escape one of you, spurring the other to repeat what they had done.

You found that tightening the muscles of your core when you were at the bottom of each stroke drove Benedict wild. He twitched inside of you each time, the muscles of his chest jumping under your palms. For his part, Benedict had discovered that tilting his hips changed the angle at which he reentered you. His constant experimentation kept you from growing accustomed to the sensations of your joining, and each thrust was new and different yet managed to build on all of those that had come before.

The slow and steady movement of you atop him had increased in pace and grown unsteady with the combination of weary muscles and need. Your thighs were trembling, and Benedict’s guiding hands had shifted to half-lifting you. The desire had grown thick inside of you, solidifying low in your belly as it wound tighter and tighter. The tension could not twist much further before it snapped entirely.

Benedict’s hand wriggled roughly under your dress once more. It was not subtle - you watched, dazed, as he fought past the layers of skirts and petticoats until he reached you - but you still jolted with shock when his fingers made contact with you. Dextrous fingers parted your damp folds, pressing between them until he could stroke gently over the sensitive button at the top of your slit.

You jolted again, tipping your head back to release an animalistic cry. That simple touch had snapped the tension entirely, and you were blinded by pleasure. Your body tightened and relaxed around him again and again, your inner muscles working over him even as the rest of your body continued to mindlessly shudder and thrust.

When you at last fell still, your core continued working around Benedict’s length. His hand rose to cup your cheek, and you glanced up to find him watching you with warmth in his eyes. “You are beautiful.”

You smiled at him, pressing briefly into his hand before gathering your strength. You lifted yourself from his still-hard cock, but did not retreat far. You sat slightly further back on his lap and began working your fist over him. The shine that you had left on him aided your efforts, and you soon found a speed and grip that made Benedict’s breath catch in his throat.

His hips danced subtly beneath you, working him through your hand until he gasped. Benedict’s hand wrapped around yours, tightening your shared grip as he sank his teeth into his lip and tried to contain a groan. His release burst from him a moment later, thick ropes of milky liquid coating your hands and leaking onto any clothing that had not been pushed far enough away.

When the tension in Benedict’s grip eased, you followed suit. Some men could not bear to be touched so soon after they had reached completion. It was best to take your cues from your partner until you learned what he liked.

There was a pensive sort of look in Benedict’s expression as he caught his breath. You reached over and snagged a scrap of fabric from what had been removed from the altered necklines and used it to wipe Benedict’s release from his skin. You took care to be gentle on both his manhood and his hand, then took the same care with your own fingers.

When you were both clean, you glanced up to find him watching you with a smile playing around his mouth. It was a common expression for him, but you could not help but think it looked lighter than you had ever seen it before.

“Cleaning us with silken handkerchiefs?” he teased. “What luxury.”

“I should rather think the son of a lord wipes his bottom with silken handkerchiefs,” you fired back.

“What an idea!” he said, pretending to consider it. “Perhaps I should suggest that when I return home.”

You hummed noncommittally.

Benedict allowed you nearly a full ten seconds of peace before he spoke again. “And? What is your verdict on our compatibility? I believe we are exceptional together.”

“I believe… we could be very well matched, indeed,” you admitted. You did not hold misgivings about Benedict save that you could already feel your attachment to him growing stronger. When your dalliance ended - and it would - you would be left shattered.

If only that seemed justification enough not to go through with it.

“I agree,” Benedict said, leaning forward to capture your lips in another kiss.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I would feel too weird about having a story so close to canon for me to continue writing this fic, but I can't let it end without explaining that Madame Delacroix is the one who 'helped' Benedict find the reader.

I never do this, but I've gotten a good response from this fic, and I feel a little guilty because this is very much not my typical subject matter. If you like my writing and want to read more stories of this nature, you might enjoy Captured, which is written like an old pirate-themed bodice ripper. Or Dreams, which is similar to this in descriptions and certain themes, but is more supernatural. Both of the stories I've listed are a little darker than this one. I also have two Hobbit fics (A Boon and Dexterity - featuring Thranduil and Thorin, respectively) which have some Regency-ish manners and themes, but with a fantasy tilt. As always, check the warnings to see whether it's something you want to read.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate the kind words about yesterday's chapter. They really made me smile!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #fem!reader #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fic #spicy #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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bitches-who-write · 9 months

Note

may I request how the gang would react to you checking on them from time to time?? I imagine bowers would just give a wtf look but like he learns to grow on it and b would just find it sweet, but he would never say it out loud

Henry:

Henry is really confused by your act of kindness of checking in on him.

When you first started checking in on him asking how he’s doing, how he’s been feeling, if he needs anything, etc., he doesn’t know how to respond.

He’s not used to anyone really caring about him, especially in his personal life/home life.

In the beginning, Henry would get angry with your constant checking in.

In a weird way, it made him feel emasculated.

Henry takes anything associated with showing your feelings as a huge sign of weakness. And that’s the last thing he wants to be is weak.

Don’t take it personally but he’ll most likely yell at you to stop asking him questions especially if you’re doing it in front of the other guys.

One on one is a different story, however .

If you guys are sitting in the open field outside of his house, he’ll open up to you a little more.

Usually he catches himself opening up too much and begins to backpedal.

”Why the fuck do you care anyways?! Doesn’t even matter!”

After he explodes at you and you’re both sitting in silence, he’ll put his arm around your shoulder.

He’ll never say thank you, but take this small act of kindness as his appreciation.

Belch:

He’s very confused why you’re suddenly asking him questions.

Luckily for Belch, his family is pretty close. As much as he complains about it, his mom makes them all eat dinner together so they can all ‘talk as a family’.

So because he has a good home life, these types of questions aren’t too uncommon.

However, it confuses and weirds him out when it comes from somebody outside of his family.

When you keep asking how he’s doing and how he’s been feeling, he starts to get concerned.

“Why do you keep asking me this, Y/N? Do you know something that I don’t? Am I dying???

“Holy shit, Vic! I might be dying!”

This dude can be pretty dramatic.

Once you reassure him that he’s not dying, he calms down and casually answers your questions.

He always asks you the same in return, genuinely smiling when you tell him about your day.

Belch grows fond of these daily conversations with you.

Patrick

Listen, Patrick isn’t a normal guy and we can’t stress this enough.

He has a pretty dissociative personality and doesn’t express a lot of personal feelings unless it’s on his terms.

Usually when you check in on him he’s weary.

Always thinking there’s an alternative motive behind your questions.

You can tell that he’s trying to process and think ahead.

If he’s feeling extra cheeky, he’ll usually give you a smart ass answer.

You just can’t do anything nice for the guy because he doesn’t appreciate it.

Again.. boyfriend material? Absolutely not. But do we all simp for him? Absolutely.

Vic:

Similar to Belch, he finds it enduring.

He’s another one who’s not used to getting attention.

Vic is a quiet guy who keeps to himself so he can easily be overlooked.

He tries not to smile when you acknowledge him and ask him how he’s feeling or check in on him in general.

Honestly, the more you check in on him,the more comfortable he gets around you.

Vic doesn’t catch feelings super easily but this is one way to win him over.

Unlike Henry, he’s not afraid to share his soft side with you.

And because he’s usually so quiet in groups, when you get him one on one, he won’t shut the hell up.

Getting back to the whole catching feelings thing … don’t be surprised if he ends up falling for you because of your sweet personality.

Thanks for the request @impossibleheartflower

We hope you enjoyed!🖤

#headcanons #henry bowers #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #imagines #victor criss x reader #bowers gang #it 2017 #itmovie #belch huggins x reader #it fanfiction #horror fanfiction

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cheolmyhubby · 11 months

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cherished moments

☆ boyfriend!yunho x fem!reader ☆ golden retriever bf yunho ☆ fluff/ romance ☆ no warnings ☆ 1,5k words

There’s something truly special about the deep connection you share with your beloved partner, yunho, who happens to be your golden retriever boyfriend. It’s the little gestures that touch your heart the most, like how he sets the alarm half an hour before both of you wake up. As the alarm goes off, he is quick to silence it, wasting no time in reaching out to wrap his arm around your waist or your head. It’s a tender act from yunho, his way of ensuring his beautiful girlfriend her day begins on a positive note.

This particular monday, yunho was quick to snooze the alarm, sparing you from its annoying loud noise. In an instant, you felt the loving embrace of your caring boyfriend, pulling you closer to his comforting chest, while his steady breaths brought a sense of calmness all over you. However, today was different. You struggled to find the motivation to rise and face the day. The past week had been filled with difficult moments, and today felt like it was going to be another one of those challenging days.

Yunho noticed you were having a rough week so he decided to surprise you. He had a special date night planned in his mind, a thoughtful idea to lift your spirits. Unaware of this surprise, you decided to stand up from your warm comfortable shared bed and prepare for the day with weariness weighing you down, but yunho found it challenging to contain his excitement as he observed your tired state.

After enduring a week of hardships, you believed things couldn’t get any worse. Yet, it seemed like everything that had gone wrong in the past week happened to unfold within a single day. Nevertheless, you got through the day, fueled by the thoughts of returning home and seeing your boyfriend. You longed for yunho’s affectionate cuddles and kisses, as if you hadn’t laid eyes on him for weeks.

As you made your way back home, a wave of happiness washed over you. You were heading back to your home, where your boyfriend is waiting for you. Throughout the entire day, you had eagerly awaited the moment for him to hold you in his arms as soon as you came back. As you entered the door, he immediately noticed the toll the day had taken on you. With a happy but tired smile, you approached yunho, hoping for a smile back and a warm embrace. In this moment, all you needed was his loving hug, and just like that, it happened. A warm and comfortable hug from your golden retriever boyfriend who you love so much, receiving the hug just after seeing him smiling beautifully at you. His smile radiating joy.

‘My lovely girlfriend, how about you put on something beautiful, and we go out? Or would you prefer to stay home and snuggle up in bed with me?’ He gently broke the hug to meet your gaze, determination shining in his eyes. ‘We can do whatever you want. I am committed to making you feel better!’ He tenderly pecked your lips, and a shy smile come up to your face. After all these years of dating yunho you still look at him with heart eyes and feel the butterflies in your stomach, your heart fluttering at the sight of him. ‘Can we do both?’ you softly suggested.

You changed into a lovely outfit, doing your makeup on the vanity in your bedroom with yunho watching you from your shared bed, who is in adoration by your every move. He occasionally asked you about the products you used, how they worked, and he showered you with compliments. Yunho listened as you passionately discussed the latest releases from your favorite makeup brands and the products you really wanted to get.

You are now in the car with yunho besides you, the playlist he loves is playing in the background. Hearing yunho singing along with his all-time favourite song is already comforting enough for you. The man who can’t be moved by the Script, you automatically sing along with your boyfriend which made him absolutely adore you even more than he already did.

After having a delightful meal and deep conversations with yunho at one of his favorite restaurants, pure happiness filled your heart. Your boyfriend knew exactly how to lift your spirits, and he was exceptionally good at it. Strolling hand in hand, your arm interwoven with yunho’s, your happiness blossomed with each passing moment spent together.

As you passed by a makeup shop, yunho caught sight of the brands you had told him about. Without a word, he gently pulled you inside. Confused, you looked at your boyfriend, expressing concern about spending too much money and consuming too much time in the shop. However, when you searched his eyes, all you found was a radiant smile. Of course, yunho wasn’t concerned about these little things. All he cared about was your happiness, and this was undoubtedly something that brought you joy.

You playfully swatched various products on yunho's hand since it’s big enough for a lot of swatches, after some time you realized that there was no space left for another swatch. It’s been a quite long time since you entered the shop, it surely didn’t felt like that long though. Yunho had been incredibly helpful the whole time, guiding you on which colors suited you best and which would enhance your natural beauty.

Observing the contents of your shopping bag, you hesitantly asked your boyfriend if it was too much. Yunho chuckled at your surprise and reassured you, ‘Babe, all of this together won’t even cost €40. Don't worry, i'll pay. I know how much you've been wanting these makeup items.’

His assumption of a mere €40 price tag left you amazed. If only he knew that a single product alone already exceeded that amount. When you told yunho the actual price, his eyes widened in disbelief. ‘That can't be! Then how much does this one cost?’ He picked up a small blush, and you couldn't help but smile, ready to see his eyes widen once more before you answer him. ‘It's actually €35,’ you said. Yunho gasped dramatically and walked to an aisle filled with other products, recognizing the lipstick you always used on the shelf. ‘Okay, i’ll exaggerate and say this one is €18. It can’t be any higher. Otherwise you’re being scammed,’ he claimed. However, you laughing at his response made him feel like he was wrong again. ‘Yunho, my sweetheart, this lipstick is actually €50,’ you revealed. He struggled to believe anything you said, spending time analyzing price tags and jokingly criticizing makeup brands. Eventually, he paid for the products in your bag, and you both left the shop after giving him a quick peck on his cheek

As you reached the front door of your shared home, you realized that yunho was the happy pill you couldn’t live without. Watching him open the door and gesturing for you to enter first, he spoke, ‘My princess first,’ making you giggle with delight. After changing into your cozy pajamas and brushing your teeth, you heard yunho’s voice from the bedroom. Curious, you made your way there, finding him deeply concentrated in a game of League of Legends. It was a sight for sore eyes; his messy hair, the cutest pajama shirt, and his eyes sparkling as he looks up to the screen leaving you in awe.

Yunho caught sight of you from the corner of his eye and spoke up, about it ‘do i look that good?’ It suddenly struck you that you had been lost in admiration of your perfect boyfriend. ‘Yes, every day i fall more and more in love with you’ you confessed. Yunho’s gaze immediately met yours, forgotten that he was still in the middle of his game. ‘I love you so much,’ he expressed, watching as you walk up to him. Sitting behind him, you embraced him tightly and whispered, ‘i love you too,’ and turning his head so he could start focusing on his game again. You spent the rest of your time watching yunho play, he was a good player and you really enjoyed watching him doing the things he loves to do.

You were on the verge of falling asleep when yunho spoke again. ‘Thank you so much for today,’ he uttered, his eyes fixed on the screen. It was difficult to form a response as you felt that you should be the one thanking him. After some seconds debating what to say you started; ‘i appreciate all the love and support you give me, yuyu. I’m thankful that you are willing to spend your attention on me. Usually receiving love is difficult and draining to me but you make me feel recharged instead,’ Yunho softly giggled as he noticed you were about to fall asleep. As exhaustion overtook you once more, the last thing you heard was yunho mumbling about your response suddenly being so serious.

Yunho is the best golden retriever boyfriend ever to exist and you live by that. You can’t wait to open your eyes in the morning and hear the alarm yunho set 30 minutes before actually waking up. Feeling his warm embrace around you once more made you realize just how fortunate you were to have him as your partner, the luckiest girl in the world.

#jeong yunho #yunho #yunho fanfic #yunho fluff #yunho scenarios #kpop #kpop fanfic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #yunho au #yunho x reader

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igotanidea · 2 years

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The perks of injuries : Morpheus x reader

Request: Reader is able to enter the dreaming physically, not just while asleep. Time pass, she starts to feel comfortable around lord and acting like they're friends (she thinks they really are, but we know Dream and his "I don't need anyone"). One day something awful happened, maybe reader was being followed in the night on her way home or some natural disaster appeared, so she went to the dreaming out of fear, but Morpheus being his moody self with a lot of work thought she would just get on his nerves or something like this and just sent her back to earth, maybe with saying about her being too loud/clingy for him to normally work. In the real world she got badly hurt and the only person who helped her out was Hob/Matthew/Death. The same day or the next dream found out about it from her saver (if it's hob maybe during their meeting which was due the same day everything happened, matthew when he came back, death when she was just passing by his realm). Ending with guilty, comforting Morpheus.

Oh, hello there. I haven’t seen you lurking in the shadows.

I don’t think we’ve meet before so let me introduce myself. In this story my name is irrelevant and it’s better if you only know me by my function. I am the spirit, that little spark that lives inside every human and stays there even after people die. Of course, I am dressed in human form but you should not be tricked with that outside.

Because of my purpose and abilities, during my lifetime I have already met a lot of different creatures, god, embodiments of human believes. Funny how their faith and imagination brings all of them to life and keep them that way.

The Endless are the ones I have to work with most of the time. I already mentioned Death – surprisingly she is the sweetest girl you have ever met, full of optimism and joy but there are another 6 of them. Destiny, Destruction, Desire, Despair, Delirium and Dream. I purposefully left Dream at the end since I have the strongest relation with him. He rules the sleeping domain, but even when people dream their spirit stay active so it’s my job to ensure nightmares or dreams do not become too vivid. It’s my duty to watch over them all the time, much to Dream’s displeasure.

Despite his attitude during the years we were able to make this relation work without interfering too much with one another and that required my presence in the Dreaming from time to time to check out if everything was going smoothly. Therefore I was granted the ability to project myself in his Kingdom not only while sleeping (since I was still a lot like human) but also in my psychical form. At some point I started considering Dream as my friend, but he was far more reserved with the use of such word.

***

It was heavy day. October mood started to settle in and people were slowly indulging in their autumn sadness, sleepiness and weariness. Focusing only on the most important things, rarely leaving homes and spending days in front of TV, tucked in blankets. Lack of sun and happiness could be felt by everyone and Despair slowly started to pull her claws on those who were prone to seasonal mood swings and depression. I would lie if I said it all had no effect on their spirits and in result – on me. I was losing energy and focus and motivation to do anything and it was not good. Definitely not. Despite my best efforts I felt all the emotions and instead of acting like a spiritual being I was behaving like human. Which also meant I was more vulnerable than usual.

“Heading home?” my friend from work stopped by my desk on her way out, worry all over her face

“Sorry?” I raised my head from the pile of documents, not sure of the day or even the hour

“It’s late” she said “you should finish for today. You have been working too hard lately.”

“Yeah, maybe you are right” how could I even begin to explain that work helped me get my mind busy. And being a scientist required constant focus on the experiment and researches so it really helped “but you know how it is, if you don’t keep up the pace you will be left behind and we don’t want another team to outrun us, do we?”

“Nope. But we also don’t want a member of the team to die on the shift, so try to remember that. Team, right, we are all in this together so no reason to act like a martyr.”

“I don’t….” I started but she cut me off

‘You do. I don’t know what’s been going on with you lately, but something’s different.”

“Must be the weather.” I smiled innocently not revealing the true reason behind it all.

“Right. Lame excuse. Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow” she fastened the belt and I waved her goodbye.

Honestly, deep inside I knew she was right. It was almost 7 p.m., the streets were dark and deserted and I was in need of rest. Even if I hated it. Reluctantly I stood up, turned off the lights, closed the door and started walking home. But as soon as I stepped out of the office I felt something was wrong. Seemingly quiet and dimly lit street, instead of radiating calmness and peacefulness was eerie and terrifying. I felt it in the pit of my stomach and my heart instantly started beating faster. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a coward and I’ve seen a lot of dark, scary things inside humans souls, but this…. This feeling was something different. Something more primal, carnal and definitely not coming from Earth.

“Come out now, show yourself!” I spun around searching for the threat. Yes, I know I’ve learned nothing from the horror movies. I should have run the other direction instead of walking straight into the arms of it. “Are you chickening out now?” I mocked, using all the efforts to make my voice sound firm and confident.

There was no response but the lights flickered slightly and out of nowhere the wind broke off.

“Oh, great” I mumbled “someone needs some demonstration of powers. Why not bring the earthquake or a hurricane.”

“If you wish so, I can make it happen.“

“Desire” I hissed while spotting black-dressed, thin and high figure moving in front of me “are you alone this time?”

“Hello, spirit. Despair sends her regards, but she could not visit this time.”

“Such a shame.” I pouted “but her presence seem to be …. Pervasive, lately. I suppose she is in high spirits?”

“My dear, you can’t even imagine.” Desire purred “and what brings her the most pleasure is you suffering because of your beloved humanity.”

“I bet it is” I groaned as a sharp sting run through my stomach “do you have a business with me, Desire? It’s not often I see you in the Waking.”

“This is an exception from a rule. I know you’ve been suffering lately and I came for the aid.”

“Aid?” I raised an eyebrow “Did you bump your head, Desire?”

“You misunderstood me. My aid is more like ending your suffering”

“I don’t suffer” I folded over in sudden pain and started catching my breath rapidly.

“Liar” Desire put on the widest smile and took a step forward

“What are you doing to me?” I was now kneeling on the ground, feeling worse and worse with its proximity.

“You should know better, spirit. Desire is something that is detrimental to the …. Metaphysical aspects of human existence. Don’t you ever read any religious texts?”

“I know them too well, actually” I gasped

“Good. Then you will know what is coming next for you” Desire popped a squat next to me and grabbed my chin forcefully causing me to look at them. “You are going to suffer, a lot. I will make you beg for …..”

“Why?” I groaned trying to yank myself.

“Because you are a nuisance. You make people better, more noble and gentle. I don’t like that.”

I hissed in pain once again, not able to hold it back.

“Yes.” Desire purred full of vengeful satisfaction “ it hurts, doesn’t it? And there is nowhere to run.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Desire” I looked them straight into the eyes, sudden crazy though popping inside my mind.

“What? What are you talking about?” their smile slightly dropped

“Goodbye, Desire. I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but as you know I am not the best liar in the world” I said and hissing and pain gathered all my power to transport myself to the only place that could possibly ensure my safety from one of the Endless.

***

The portal I opened was so powerful that it made me lose my balance and fell onto the sandy shore by the Dreaming’s gate. Coughing and panting I used my hand for support before my head got injured due to the impact.

“Shit! Shit, shit!” I really hoped I would be able to get straight into the castle but apparently the stress influenced my focus. Even though I was safe now and Desire could not get me here without invitation to Dream’s realm (which was never happening) I jumped and rushed towards the entry. “Please, open up” I put a hand where normally the doorknob would be and whispered silent pleas. I was lucky enough to made it move, in painfully slow and glitzy way. I was not patient enough to wait and slipped through the gap running towards the palace.

“Dream!” I panted running straight into the throne room catching my breath

“Spirit.” His cold voice made me straighten up immediately to safe the rests of the dignity, but my messy hair and reddened face did nothing to help me. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, you know, I was just nearby and decided to pay you a visit.”

“You were not invited. Your unexpected visitations are becoming a bother to the Kingdom”

“Morpheus ….” that was painful “you surely don’t mean that…..”

“What seems to be the matter this time?” he raised his gaze and looked at my messy figure. “Did something happen?” the last question was barely a show of acknowledgement more

“Yeah, just your sibling came at me trying to destroy my inner peace. No biggie.” I fixed a single strand of hair trying to give shaking hands something to hold on to.

“Desire?”

“Who else?”

“I shall deal with my sibling soon then, if you were not able to do so. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually” I started fiddling with my fingers nervously

“What is it?” the way he was towering over me made me feel weak an completely at his mercy. As much as I hated begging there was no other option.

“Please, don’t make me go back to waking. At least not straight away. Let me stay, Morpheus”

“I’m busy, spirit. I don’t have time for that. And I see no reason to do so. “

“You know well enough I have no power against Desire, Morpheus and if they are after me, Waking is not safe. I’m really scared, please. I thought as my friend you would help me.” Oh, forget the dignity, fear got the worst of me.

“Waking is your realm and you should go back there immediately. Dreaming has its own affairs and it’s not a hideout for you, spirit. Go back to your Realm, protect it and I will take of Desire after I’m done with my duties.”

“Morpheus, please…. I….”

“That’s all, Spirit.”

“Fine. Thanks for your help, Dream. Hope everything works well for you here. I suppose I see you when there’s another vortex or some other threat to your Kingdom. You never had any inhibitions to ask for my help."

I marched out the palace and with still shaking hands returned to the same place in the Waking. Luckily, Desire was out of sight, for now, but knowing them, this was far from over.

***

I had a sleepless night. After my little banter with Morpheus no dream came to me and obviously I did not even enter the Dreaming. He was either acting like a child or was truly busy with some serious and urgent matter, most probably both those reason combined. So when the morning came I was even more tired than before. And there was one more thing, just a little something that normally would not get my attention but since I knew that I was on Desire’s radar I was far more alert. I was becoming paranoid and there was no way I could go to work like that, so the only option was to call in and excuse myself with being sick. The last thing I needed was ending up in the mental hospital or someone discovering my true identity. Muttering some protective spell I walked round the apartment searching for the source of something dark and evil I could clearly feel. It was not Desire, for sure. This was more… infernal, cruel and well, less sly than Dream’s sibling. Suddenly, the though dawned on me. They send a demon after me. The worst kind of the Hell’s servant, known as Hellfire. Talk about a threat to a spirit. This one could crash me with a single snap of his fingers.

“Spirit.” he spoke contently “such a pleasure”

“I did not expect you in my flat.” I trembled “what brings you to me?”

“A debt to Desire. Seems like today I will finally be able to pay it.”

“I’m not going down willingly.” I raised hand creating some sort of shield between us

“Funny, I was not asking” he looked at me and I felt this kind of pain that really make you wanna give up and die. My whole body was on fire, my insides being twisted and turned and I could only see the blackness. My light and soul power was still there, but it was not enough to go against the demon. Darkness slowly started to creep in, every positive though I had gone and suppressed by negativity, sadness, evil. There was no good in the world, people were ungrateful, greedy creatures, life was meaningless.

“Death….” I whispered faintly before losing conscience and giving in to the devilish powers.

***

When I opened my eyes I was lying under cover, the demon gone and my flat looking like nothing happened. Was that a dream? But why would Morpheus allow something like that? Was he really that mad at me for seeking his help? I tried to move but my whole body was aching and even breathing was problematic. I also felt some pressure on my abdomen and after lifting up the shirt I discovered some dressing across my stomach.

“Who’s here?” I screamed at the space once again alerted. I was in no condition to fight but I would if I had to.

“Hey, no! Lay back down” black-skinned woman came running off the kitchen forcing me back onto the cushions. “You got pretty badly hurt, dear. You need rest.”

“Hello, Death” I closed my eyes, enjoying her warm hand on my forehead “What happened?”

“How much do you remember?”

“I remember Hellfire coming after me. “

“That is not something you can forget" she muttered” you called for me and that was good decision.”

“Guess my human instincts kicked in. Thank you. Amongst the Endless you are the only one I can count on.”

“How so?” she raised an eyebrow “Actually, wait. I was a bit surprised when I heard your voice. I mean, usually you are rather more fond of collaborating with my brother, so why me?”

“I did ask Dream for help, but he….”

“Wait.” She raised hand stopping me from talking “He denied you?”

“He was busy.”

“He is always busy. And his affairs are usually about him sulking and going through something. I love my brother, but he is an idiot. This could have ended up so bad….” She shook her head and the curly hair bounced around emphasizing her annoyance. “Did you tell him Desire was after you?”

“How do you know that?” I propped myself on the elbow but the injuries made me fall back hissing. “Shit!”

“It does not take a genius. Only Desire would send a demon after you. unless you also have some affair with Morningstar I should know about?” I shook my head denying that “Good. But Dream…., I think I will need a word with him.”

“The boss is already on his way. Will you let me in?” familiar Raven perched down on the sill looking through the raked window.

“Sure, come on in, Matthew” I sighed reaching for the handle and letting him in.

“Are you all right?”

“Besides dizziness, third-degree burns and scarred pride I think I will pull through. Not thanks to Dream, though. “

“He is ……” Matthew started but quickly stopped

“Do not speak in my name Matthew.”

“Oh, hello brother. Seems like you and I have a lot to talk about” Death smiled at her younger sibling appearing in the room, but tone of her voice was far from happy, rather reprobative.

“Guys” I captured their attention “as much as I appreciate you all coming here, can a girl get some peace and calm to heal? You know, you don’t confront a demon every day. Death, thank you for your help, truly, but can you and your brother get your little fight somewhere else?”

Death eyed her brother carefully while he was hunched, his gaze focused on the floor.

“Sure” she shrugged “you need peace, you are right. But I think Dream might have something to tell you, so I’ll leave you two alone. Matthew, care to join me outside?”

“Sure thing, Lady Death.”

“We will have this conversation, brother, just later. What comes up must go down” she went to hug him and whispered into his ear “tell her!” then the older endless turned back to me, still in bed “see you soon, dear, take care of yourself and if you ever need something don’t hesitate to call me. Bye.”

Without her presence the atmosphere in the room suddenly became more tense. Dream was standing in the same position, his feet rooted to the ground, while I was just biting my lip and trying to look everywhere but on him. Awkward.

“Dream…..” I spoke

“Spirit……” he said at the same time and this made us silent once again.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity he came closer and sat down on the edge of the couch making me move away instantly.

“Please, don’t” he whispered

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t …. Run from me.”

“Run from you?! Are you serious Dream? I run straight into you when I felt the danger coming. And what was your response? I am busy. Isn’t that what you said?” the anger and hurt found the way out at last.

“I did….I…..I….” he stuttered

“What?”

“I apologize, spirit. I should have taken you seriously.”

“You should have.” I agreed looking away, still hurt. “Well, apologies accepted I guess.”

“No.” he grabbed my hand gently

“No? I don’t understand.”

“You should be mad. You should scream and shout and call me an idiot. But you are just too good for me, aren’t you?” he searched for my face and as our gazes met I finally came into realization

“Morpheus?” I coughed out “what are you…..”

“When you came to me…. I panicked. You make me…. Feel things and that is something I haven’t experienced in some time. “

“Is that bad?”

“It’s dangerous. Every woman I loved, every feeling I held for anyone always ended up badly.”

“Loved?” I opened my eyes in surprise “Dream…..”

“Yes. It’s true. I love you, spirit. And now I feel so guilty for letting you get hurt. And ‘m terrified for your safety. We still have joint affairs and business and I don’t know if I can keep it up like that. Maybe it would be better and safer for you with me gone”

“Shut up, Morpheus!” I interrupted his teary confession unable to take it anymore. “Your sister is right, you are an idiot. Why do you think I came to you in the first place? Why do you think I project myself in the Dreaming every time I get the chance? Why do you think I meddled with humans mentality so they would get your attention and you would come to me for change. Did you believe it all to be coincidental?”

“I…” oh, now he was speechless “I never ....”

“Well, now you know.” I looked down, my cheek turning red. “It’s your decision what to do with it. You can leave but you can…. you know, stay.”

“My love” he whispered and before I realized what was happening he was kissing me gently and mindful of all the injuries “I am sorry. I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then you are up for a long ride. But I believe you have a word to exchange with your sister first.”

“She can wait” he whispered moving in once again but I stopped him by putting hand on his chest.

“She cannot. Before this gets serious you need some sense knocked into your head. Go talk to her and be quick. You made me wait for you long enough.”

“Anything for you, love. “ he kissed my temple and reluctantly, yet obediently left to be scolded by Death. @somest1 @pinksirensong

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tomatomagica · 2 years

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Why laziness doesn't exist

There is probably not a person in the world who hasn't been told at least once, "You're just lazy". We hear about laziness from childhood - from parents, grandparents, and teachers ("A capable girl, but lazy. You should try harder!"). Later we ourselves begin to use this phrase and call ourselves, our partners and children lazy. But is it really that simple with this idea? Dahl's Dictionary tells us that laziness is "a reluctance to work, an aversion to work, to doing, to occupation; a tendency to idleness. Interestingly, laziness is seen here in two senses at once: as a deed or temporary condition when a person does not want to work, or as a permanent character trait - if a person is inclined to do nothing.

However, psychology treats laziness very differently: it believes that it is neither a feeling nor a quality of character, but a social construct. There are basic emotions - fear, sadness, anger, and joy - that are common to all higher mammals, and we feel them in approximately the same way. But there is no such feeling as laziness - there is a feeling of fatigue or a state of apathy, there is aggression, which can be expressed in the unwillingness to do something (the same "aversion to work"). The character trait "lazy" does not exist either - we use it to describe people who do not want to do something that we think they should. Even if we're talking about ourselves.

Where does laziness come from?

Usually laziness is first told to us by parents or teachers. A child may learn that they are "lazy" in different situations: for example, when they are not energetic enough in the opinion of the elders - that is, apathetic and lethargic. A healthy child should really be active, so lethargy is really a cause for concern. But in this case, it is better to consult a doctor or a psychologist, and not to label it. The second and, probably, most frequent variant is when a child is not interested in what his parents consider useful and necessary: "You are lazy to clean the room", "You are lazy to do homework", "You are lazy to visit grandparents. There can be a hundred different reasons for not wanting to do something, but since parents are considered the unquestionable authority, and our culture still does not talk to the child about his desires and feelings, any disobedience is usually blamed on either bad behavior (when the child actively rebels) or laziness (which is considered a passive rebellion). Growing up, we get used to this concept and begin to describe ourselves and other people through it.

Unfortunately, the idea of "laziness" prevents us from understanding our own feelings, motivations, and even our physical condition: sudden apathy, which we habitually dubbed laziness, when examined by a doctor can turn out to be the onset of bronchitis, a low hemoglobin level, or pregnancy. The notion of laziness can cause us to start pushing ourselves. Compare: the phrase "I'm resisting it" prompts further reflection, prompts us to figure out what's going on - what am I resisting, what's the reason? What is it that I don't like or don't like about it? And the words "I am lazy" imply a moralizing view. Laziness here is a "vice" that must be eradicated. "Laziness" is a convenient label for a whole bunch of tangled feelings, uncomfortable and unpleasant relationships, conflicts that keep us from being active

Psychologists or coaches are often approached with something like this request: "How do I start my tenth project when the previous nine have worn me out to the point of exhaustion?", "I sleep four hours, work twelve hours without days off, and there's no way I can start learning French. I'm lazy, aren't I?" Of course, laziness has nothing to do with it. No amount of self-motivation techniques will help a man who is weary. His problem is rather that he cannot stop thinking of himself as an omnipotent cyborg and recognize himself as a living person with a need for rest, doing nothing, and having fun. Usually in such cases one has to turn to childhood and family attitudes. It is not uncommon there to find ideas that vacations are "shameful," that they have to be "earned" or have good reasons for them (three years without a vacation, a serious illness). Or the attitude that only those who do good are loved. A great deal of usefulness. The person who wants to be loved and accepted begins to work himself to the bone, destroying himself and the close relationship - there is simply no resource left for them. When he feels that the relationship is collapsing, feels unwanted, he tries to work even harder against all odds. Mom and Dad demonstrated that they love hardworking people like that - then, this must be true for other people as well!

What is laziness hiding?

Very often "laziness" is a convenient label for a whole tangle of confusing feelings, uncomfortable and unpleasant relationships, and conflicts that prevent us from being active. For example, you are "lazy" to get a second higher education or to improve your skills. It's scary to think about: maybe you are "lazy" because you don't want to do something that seems pointless to you? For example, if you did not set the goal yourself - just someone important to you suggested to you that a second higher education is necessary.

If you don't have any energy to go to the courses or to sit at the desk after your main job and you are desperately truant, it's time to ask yourself the question: what was the purpose of all this? If you dream of a career change, maybe just applying for an internship would be enough? Or even just send a resume for a position at a slightly lower salary, writing in all the experience of working in similar occupations. You'd be surprised how much shorter the path to your goal is if you figure out what you really want.

Or maybe the initial goal was to please mom and dad? Then it is worth looking for a less energy-consuming way - and even work with a psychologist on where the demonstration of love and gratitude to parents ends and begins to live other people's life scenarios.

You should be careful if laziness covers you every time when you undertake a task (a meeting, a project, a trip) connected with a certain person or group of people. For example, at work, you put off tasks from a certain client to the last minute, although you always carry out the rest on time - you just can not bring yourself to start. Or you are lazy before a trip to some friends or relatives, although in other cases you endure a much longer trip. It even happens that over and over again you don't want to open a book or watch a movie recommended by someone.

In this case, it is worth remembering what has been happening in your relationship lately. Usually there are good reasons: laziness turns out to be a way to passively resist aggression, violation of boundaries, humiliation, violation of agreements. Indeed, it is "lazy" to meet with a friend who canceled two previous meetings when you were already on your way. And you don't want to do a project for a client, from whom you then have to demand a fee for months. "Too lazy" to go to relatives who criticize your lifestyle, who are rude, who violate boundaries. And you don't even want to read a book from a person who treats you badly - and it's not that you supposedly don't seek knowledge, but that difficult feelings about the person are transferred to reading, watching a movie, or traveling.

"You're just being lazy!"

The phrase "you're just lazy" is also an excellent means of manipulation. Essentially, the person is telling you, "I want you to do this. If you don't do it, I'll think you're bad, and I'll try to instill that same thought in you." The appropriate thing to talk about here is not the qualities of your character, but the activity that you are supposedly lazy to do.

Talking about an employee being lazy at work can be a "good" way to brush off all the uncomfortable issues, from salary delays to imbalances of power and responsibility. In this way, the employer may be trying to move the conversation away from the business relationship into categories of evaluation and morality, and that's wrong. You may be "lazy" to take on other people's responsibilities and overwork without extra pay. Or you are "too lazy" to do a project yourself that requires more formal authority and promotion. And here it's very helpful to call things by their proper names: "I'm sorry, I don't think it's acceptable to require me to stay until 9 p.m. on a Friday night without overtime pay," "In order to take on this project, I must have the authority to sign documents and your power of attorney."

When your partner says you are "just too lazy" to mop the floors and make dinner after a full day of work, instead of accusations and excuses, it's more appropriate to talk about how to share household chores. If you are "too lazy" to visit my mother at the cottage hundreds of miles from the city, it is worth thinking about what was going on in your relationship or if you are not tired. In any case, it is useful to think not about laziness, but about whether a working person is physically able to drive six hours through traffic on Saturday to the cottage to return home the same way on Sunday night to Monday, and how necessary it is to express love for parents in this form (this is a big question).

One of the most difficult issues is when there is conflict behind laziness. The worst is when what you do conflicts with your values - to exaggerate, it's very hard to be vegan and work at a meatpacking plant, or to advocate for body positivity and promote beauty pageants. In this case, laziness is literally salvation. It is a healthy resistance to what one considers immoral, harmful, or dishonest. And activities that go against your life principles are best changed as soon as possible because they are destructive.

The idea of laziness is like a trash can, where all kinds of unwanted and uncomfortable feelings are thrown out instead of being dealt with. So if you are suddenly overwhelmed by laziness and guilt about it, it's time to rummage in that garbage can, pull out your accumulated feelings and emotions, and examine them carefully.

written by psychologist Yana Shagova, published in Wonderzine, translated from russian using DeepL

#I've read this article years ago and it was so eye opening i regularly re read it #i want my english speaking friends to read it too #how do i tag this #long post #text #article #psychology #therapy #laziness

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bengiyo · 9 months

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Dangerous Romance Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last time, Perth continued to play an extremely unlikeable character, but at least a lot of my faves are here as well! Unfortunately, Perth’s character Kanghan is a sexually-repressed bullying asshole with daddy issues, and Chimon’s character Sailom is a clever, world-weary scholarship student who is not planning to lose to Kanghan at all. I’m still not over Chimon’s delivery of “Oops” and am curious where we go after leaving on Sailom kissing Kanghan as a reversal play.

My man Auto reminiscing in class about his bullies getting embarrassed. I feel that.

That’s right Ms. Algebra Teacher, don’t come for my man Sailom.

How often has Kanghan gotten away with lies and manipulation on his family and others that he immediately went that route with his grandmother? He really said to cancel that man’s scholarship.

As others pointed out, I like that we can see more age and wear on Sailom’s clothes, especially when he’s next to Kanghan.

I think Marc’s character’s name is Guy, and I just want him to punch someone properly once. Shit-kicking once is not enough.

I really hate this teacher. I’m with the grandma not letting her authority be misused. This is not how I expected this situation to play out.

THE DEVIL WORKS HARD, BUT GRANDMAS WORK HARDER. She said, “Waste not, want not. I need you to tutor my dumbass grandson.”

Look at Pepper getting to play an antagonist, and he’s armed, too!

Thank you, Name, for providing a motivation for Sailom to contract with Kanghan’s grandmother.

I will take the kneeing to the stomach, but I suppose they can’t just beat each other to death.

Pawin is so fun to watch. He’s only gotten better over the years.

Sailom stay embarrassing this man. Kanghan, how man Ls can one man take?

I know that the actors are riding on a trailer that the crew is driving, but this is still harrowing.

I love that, despite how badly Sailom needs money, he can still sassily hand it back to Kanghan after dunking on him for the umpteenth time.

Calling Sailom a pedophile in a parents group is a new low.

Oh lord. Back to the Cardboard Kingdom.

It’s my understanding that you’re absolutely not supposed to throw Thai currency on the ground, so this feels especially egregious?

It’s about time one of Perth’s asshole characters got punched out.

“All I ask is that you kneel.” “Bend the knee.” Kanghan watches too much TV.

Wait. Now we’re involving firearms? What the fuck.

He’s doing too much, but at least Kanghan looks good.

These dudes out here really stomping a goddamn teenager and now they’re gonna burn him.

This is now the third show this year we’ve seen Perth point a gun at people.

Chimon’s ability to make himself tremble here sells the Kang flashbacks well. Good comparison between the petty beef Kanghan is trying to have with Sailom versus the very real and present dangers of his home life.

Alright, we can shift the dynamic next week I guess.

Chimon is GOOD. Perth is BEAUTIFUL. Pawin is FUN. Euro is FUNNY. I like this cast. I hope this show holds up.

#dangerous romance #dangerous romance the series #dangerous romance meta #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 months

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A brother's instructions

Day 5 for @manweweek

Rating: E

Prompts: Free of Evil | Opposition

Pairing: Manwë/Melkor for Sofie (nyarnamaitar)

Themes: Dead Dove | Smut

Wordcount: 2.7k words

Summary: Prior to his wedding to Varda, Manwë’s brother calls on him, offering to teach him how to satisfy his bride in a way he does not expect.

Minors DNI | 18+

This fic is also available on AO3

“I hear you are to be wed.” Melkor leaned against the doorpost, the dark pools of his eyes glinting in the starlight that spilled freely into his brother’s chambers. “And I have come to offer my felicitations, brother mine.”

Manwë turned to face him, his lips forming a bashful smile. His brother’s visits were always welcomed, especially now that an occasion of great significance loomed large before him.

“My thanks, brother,” he returned warmly. “Lady Varda’s wish to be wed to me was wondrous for me to hear.”

“Indeed, brother mine. Indeed.” Melkor was perfectly calm, perfectly amiable. Deep within him, however, anger rose like a tumultuous storm that would have stripped everything around him to its bones had he allowed it. His brother was to be married to another, and the notion distressed Melkor deeply.

Look at him, he thought, while his brother kept up a lively chatter about his upcoming nuptials. Varda is unworthy of him. He is so radiant. So beautiful. So innocent and unsuspecting of the true motives and desires of others.

Dark lips curled into a twisted smile. Manwë was beautiful and radiant, as any of the Valar should be. He was also an innocent who was free of evil and pure of heart, a being who could not truly fathom the secret notions and desires hiding within the dark recesses of the minds of others. And he had not seen the desires that dwelled in his brother’s mind, for they had always been concealed from him. Melkor was besotted with him. It had been this way since the moment his younger brother came of age and Melkor found himself smitten by Manwë after he made himself known to him. This feeling grew with the passing of the ages, and Melkor did little to dampen it.

Innocent and unsuspecting, he repeated to himself. Too innocent and unsuspecting for his own good. Perhaps there is a way yet for me to achieve a sliver, at least, of what I desire, he realized, if I speak the right words. And if I am successful, I may yet have a taste of him before he places himself in the arms of another for all time.

“What you have said is all good,” Melkor began and set his plan into motion. “But it will not be enough. A marriage is more than just a pledging of vows, brother. There are times when a marriage needs more than just tender companionship to keep itself alive. Have you given any thought to the other aspects as well?”

“You mean pleasures of both the spirit and the flesh?” His brother flushed, wringing his hands. Manwë had indeed given the notion much thought, and he found himself praying that he would not fail to please his new bride in any way, for he had abstained from such acts despite the many invitations from others to do so. Oh, he saw nothing wrong with such invitations; he simply desired to wait until he found the companion of his life. “Yes. I know of this brother.”

“Do you desire it?” Melkor asked with feigned indifference. “Does your lady desire it?”

Manwë flushed again, unable to look his brother in the eye. “Yes. To both. Varda is said to be a most passionate woman, and I… I hope that I will be able to please her in every way.”

“I understand completely,” Melkor replied solemnly, pacing his brother’s chamber, his eyes darting to the wide featherbed and its silk sheets. The bed was barely slept in, for they, the Valar, did not require rest and true sleep unless their earthly vessels were weary. And Manwë was rarely weary.

Perhaps it is time that featherbed was put to some proper use. Melkor stopped by the foot of it before turning to face his brother.

“Do you wish to know how best to please your future queen and keep her content?”

“I do. More than anything.”

“Then will you allow me to teach you? I have some experience in this sphere. I could guide you.”

His brother—who had been gazing out the windows—snapped around to look at him, startled by this most unusual offer. “You mean I should listen to what you have to say?”

“Not just say,” his brother answered, laughing. “I will show you by allowing you to take liberties with my body. Come now, brother,” he added when Manwë grew pale. “Have you lost your courage?”

“I… I do not think it is wise, brother,” Manwë said, puzzled. His brother sought to show him how to please his queen instead of just counseling him about what took place in the marriage bed. He did not know what to make of it. What he did know was that such acts were forbidden, not just for the Children, the Eldar and the yet-to-be-discovered Edain, but for the Valar as well. “And it is an abomination, brother, for you and I to cleave to each other in such a way even in the flesh.”

“It is far from an abomination,” Melkor sighed as if in defeat. “But I will leave if you do not desire my guidance.”

“So soon?” His brother cried when he walked past him, comporting himself in the manner of an aggrieved soul. “Please stay, brother; I cannot bear to see you leave so soon.”

Melkor paused by the door, his hand already around its golden handle. The key has found its way into its lock, he thought, pleased with himself, and pleased with how easy it was to bring his brother around. Now all I need to do is to turn it into its proper place.

“You do not wish me to leave?” he murmured, his back to his brother the entire time. “But why must I stay, brother mine, when you call my offer to help a vile and monstrous act?”

“Please stay, brother,” his brother beseeched him. “Please. I… I did not mean to insult you.”

“You will trust me and willingly do what I ask of you?” Melkor turned around to face him, his countenance grave. Deep within, however, he was rejoicing. “All of what I ask of you?”

“I…” Manwë paused and hesitated. Melkor invited him to do something that would go against everything they were taught by their creator. However, he wanted to trust his brother. He wanted Melkor to see that he did not doubt his intentions, and he yearned to know how best to satisfy his future queen. “Yes. But just in the flesh, yes?”

“Of course, of course,” Melkor agreed. “Just in the flesh, and not in the spirit. Too much harm can come to us if our spirits are bonded. Now stay here. There is something I must procure for us first.”

That something turned out to be a clear, crystal bottle of oil that Melkor obtained after some discrete searching. It gleamed atop the little table it was placed on, and Manwë regarded it, wondering how it would be used. Then he turned to face his brother, mustering the courage that threatened to desert him at that moment.

“I… I am ready,” he declared softly. His brother smiled.

“First,” said Melkor, “we must kiss. Come here, brother mine. Place your arms around my neck and close your eyes. I will show you how it is done.”

Manwë obeyed, albeit reluctantly, gasping when he was kissed violently and his brother’s hand tangled in his hair. He willed his mind to open, more than a little frightened by the savagery of his brother’s embrace.

“It hurts,” he exclaimed when his brother tightened his other arm around his waist in a vise-like hold. “It hurts, brother.”

“Tis how it is, brother,” Melkor growled, savoring the warmth lingering in his brother’s mouth. And oh! The sweetness he found lingering within it, the cravings it gave rise to! “Varda will desire this, even act in this manner as well. Listen to me, brother, when I say this is the only way to keep a being like her content.”

“I… very well, brother.” Manwë yielded, whimpering when he felt the sting of his brother’s teeth against his lips and when the heaviness of his brother’s arousal pressed against his lower belly. Melkor wasted little time, ripping the robes off his brother’s person in his greed to feel flesh against flesh. He was not disappointed in any regard, for when he freed himself of his robes and drew his brother close, he found himself sighing wistfully.

He feels so good. His brother’s fair skin was uncommonly soft and smelled faintly of cool mountain air. And it was perfect, devoid of any flaw. Melkor had often dreamed of it—his brother’s pale skin pressing against his own and his soft, windblown hair spreading around him like silk.

And for once, I get to make my vision of us real. Melkor tumbled Manwë onto his bed and sat astride him, marking his throat and arms and torso with his tongue and his lips and his teeth. Manwë—despite the arousal that had already gathered deep within the pit of his stomach—thought this was all too much. Surely the pleasures of the flesh were supposed to be gentler than this?

“Too much, brother. Please.” He tried to resist, to push himself away. His nails inadvertently dug into his brother’s thighs during his attempts to break free. Melkor growled, inflamed, and wrapped his hand around his brother’s throat, pinning him to the featherbed. “Tis too much for me.”

“It is far from too much,” he lilted, bracing his other hand by his brother’s shoulder. Manwë hissed softly when the pressure applied against his flesh increased slightly, and when the weight of his brother came to settle against the cradle of his hips. He could have used his mastery over wind and air to free himself, but he could not bring himself to do so. He could not bear the notion of wounding his brother in any way. “And it is how your lady would desire it—all heat and flames and passion. Do you wish to stop now, brother mine, when you are so close to discovering how to truly pleasure her?

“I… I do not know.”

“Precisely. You do not know. Which is why I intend to teach you. Now stop resisting my embraces, and let me show you the rest.”

His brother looked at him, his eyes wide and full of confusion. And Melkor, thinking an inducement was needed, released his hold and reached down to wrap his hand around his brother’s cock instead. It produced a much-sought-after effect. Manwë arched his back and let out a transported whine, his hands fisting against the sheets, when he felt himself being stroked for the first time.

“Is that a yes, brother mine?” Melkor asked, masking his elation with innocent warmth, when his brother thrust up his hips.

“Yes, yes, brother,” Manwë—unable to stop himself—cried out, when yet another flash of pleasure tore through him.

Melkor groaned when he was addressed so. He did not dwell on it, thinking it would undo him and drive him mad if he did. He set his eyes on the task at hand instead, turning his brother onto his belly, bidding him to wait, and telling him that he had to be prepared for what came next. Manwë waited, ashamed of the want that bloomed and surged through his being, and ashamed for wanting to know more of what his brother had in store for him.

His brother had a great deal in store for him, though, at the time, he knew little of it. The first thing he felt after the weight of the featherbed shifted again was his brother’s legs forcing his own apart. He turned to look over his shoulder, but his brother commanded him to turn back with a heated thought. The next thing he felt was his brother’s hand, large and cool and slick with oil, caressing the small of his back. Manwë closed his eyes.

What will come next? He wondered.

Pain came next. Pain like he had never felt before was searing through his insides. Manwë tried to look over his shoulder again when the finger that had breached him sank deeper.

“What are you doing to me?” He demanded, his words feeble.

“Preparing you, just as I said.” Melkor thrust deeply, pressing his finger against a particular place that made his brother dig his nails into the sheets, tearing at them. His quiet moan was sweet and golden, like music to Melkor’s ears. He pressed his finger against that place again, and his name spilled off his brother’s swollen lips in a whisper. “For Varda may do it as well. There are even special implements that she could use for her pleasure as well as for yours. Would you like to know how she could do this?”

“I… that is yes, brother.” Manwë, still full of shame and self-disgust, moaned again when a second finger joined the first, opening him up even more. Melkor used a generous hand with the oil. He applied it along his length and pushed more inside his brother. Then, when he was more than ready, he gripped his brother’s hips and lifted them just high enough to breach him again without too much trouble. And without warning, he did so, pushing himself inside with one long thrust.

Manwë cried out: from shock, from pain, unable to comprehend how he could accept such an intrusion, and unable to comprehend how he could accept so much of it. Melkor was big—uncomfortably, painfully so. Manwë felt him grunt against the back of his neck and heard him whisper “Finally,” when he sank home. Then he began to move, his shallow thrusts deepening as his pleasure grew.

This is wrong, thought Manwë, even as hunger for more flared through him, white-hot and blinding. This is wrong. This should not be happening. We must stop. I must put a stop to this. I must…

“Enjoying yourself, brother mine?”

Too late did Manwë realize that his moans joined the euphony Melkor had created with his own. Humiliated, he dropped his head, muffling his cries against his arm. His brother did not mind. He took his pleasure as and how he found it, striking the place he found before, bringing both himself and his brother to the very brink by chasing his own release.

“You are close.” Melkor tightened his grip with one hand while the other moved to tangle itself once more in the pale silver of his brother’s hair. He grabbed onto it and tugged hard, delighting in the little whine he heard. “Your release is almost upon you. I can feel it in the tightening of your body. Do you want me to show you what that would feel like, brother? When your queen takes you over the edge while sharing pleasures?”

“I… that is yes, yes, brother.” Manwë was starting to think there was more to these lessons, something that Melkor kept hidden from his sight. Still, he could not dwell on any suspicion. Not at that moment. Not when golden light kept bursting to life behind his eyes. He whispered his brother’s name and chased after it, giddy and lightheaded, forgetting his shame, unable and unwilling to linger on his brother’s motives. He whispered brother’s name again, this time when he found that light. He let it wash over him and drown him in its brilliance, his body trembling and trembling while he spilled across the sheets, his brother’s name parting his lips in wild little cries. He was still shaking when he heard his brother’s deep cry, and when he felt the warmth of his brother’s spend flood his insides. Then his brother went still, and a hush settled over his chambers. It was everywhere, as all-consuming as the light that washed over him before. Manwë slowly opened his eyes.

Is it now over? He made a faint noise when his brother finally slipped out of him and collapsed onto his side. Has my brother’s lesson come to an end?

“Are your instructions over, brother?” Manwë murmured when he could finally lift his head and speak. He regarded his brother discretely, drinking in the shimmering, slate-gray skin and the hair that fell around him like a dark waterfall. Then he turned away, mortified for admiring him so. Melkor had seen him looking and did well to hide the triumphant smirk that threatened to burst forth.

So trusting. So innocent. And finally, mine. Varda will never be able to claim all of him now. My mark will forever be etched on his spirit.

“Our lessons are far from over,” Melkor began after he gathered his breath. “Rest, brother mine. I have so much more to teach you. They too will serve you well, I think, where your new queen is concerned.”

#manweweek #manwe week #dead dove do not eat #manwë #melkor #manwë smut #melkor smut #manwë x melkor #the silmarillion #the silm fanfiction #a world of whimsy writes

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rhiaestmort · 1 year

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HUGS!!

kaeya version woohoo we love kaeya 🫶 (again more soon)

a/n: again more characters soon, i’m going through nations and venti will most likely be next! no more genshin for a long while sorry!

word count: 320

synopsis: you both cant sleep, really dont need more information

tags: fluff!!

not proofread!!

surprisingly warm despite the cryo vision

would definitely pepper your face in kisses 🤭

——————————

you sighed upon turning to your side and noticing the time was 2.06. yet another sleepless night. « didn’t feel like sleeping no? »

« oh kaeya! you’re awake? » you turned to face your lover.

his blue fell gracefully over his face as he turned to you, eyes meeting yours, « i am, question, why are you awake darling? » he said whilst turning his full body towards you, « i just can’t sleep not too deep, » you yawned, « but your also awake so it doesn’t matter. » kaeya let out a light chuckle before replying, « of couse it matters i don’t think either of us want to be tired in the morning, and to be frank im rather tired now. come here » he said gesturing for you to come close to him, you set yourself under his arm, head on chest, arms spread across his torso, « you comfortable there? » he said laughing, a muffled « yes » and « how are you so warm » followed by some more unnecessary remarks coming from you before there was serenity.

some time had passed and you where both sat in a comfortable silence feeling awfully weary. you looked up at your partner, staring in awe; a sliver of moonlight which peaked through the curtains graced his face, he looked majestical, divine, elysian; who knew perfection could be overriden with the aid of something a simple as moonlight? puzzled kaeya faced you and spoke, « something wrong? » you broke out of your daydream, and in a tired tone you reply. « what? oh, i’m fine, just staring » laughing, he then began to pepper soft, meaningful kisses all over your face for minutes on end, « cute. »

before long your figure was displayed across kaeya’s and his arms were around you, you both now fast asleep in the comfort of each others touch.

a/n: i know i said i would’t be posting until after june 23rd but i had time and motivation so it’s done, i won’t be posting genshin related things for the foreseeable future instead im moving onto hi3rd/hsr so any character suggestions would be appreciated 🫶🫶

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cloudninetonine · 11 months

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Ya'll, I had the motivation to write about my Linksona so please forgive my cringe 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 Seeing as I can't draw you'll have to endure my words instead.

But I made it more enjoyable by putting Player in, I'm so smart.

Also tired, I need to stop writing at fuck all o'clock- please forgive me for any potential mistakes.

Warnings: Mentions of stalking, slight mention of body horror, this story is supposed to have a more creepy/scary feel to it so just in case, little mention of blood, mention of death and decapitation

“....there’s something wrong with this Hyrule.”

Uttered by the light of the fire, no one seemed to fight the words. A spell cast over the whole lot, you couldn’t help but watch them all- silent, watching, waiting.

It scared you. Not a single one of the boys had relaxed ever since stepping through the portal, into the freezing temperatures of the horrid night. Snow graced every step you took, the cold air sneaking under you clothes and chilling you right to the bone. It was too cold, not even a special item seemed to keep away the frost and left every single one of you shivering before you finally ducked into the nearest cave you could find.

That wasn’t the worst of it.

Something was following you.

Word had worked it’s way up the Chain, starting from the trailing head and leading right to the leading as you traversed. You hadn’t been informed until you were finally settled in the cave, cuddled next to Hyrule’s surprisingly warm side when he whispered softly into your ear the words that had been fleeting in the moments earlier.

“Something has followed us.” You tensed, eyes widening as you glanced over to him with a frightened gaze. He looked sympathetic. “I did not want to worry you, but I also did not want to leave you in the dark any longer.”

A quick glance around the group showed their guards, not a single back open to the mouth of the cave.

You burrowed yourself into his side, terrified.

“...Is it Dink?”

“No I do not believe so.”

“Then what is it…?”

He tightened his arm around you protectively, “I am unsure.”

And thus those words have slipped right from your mouth. “....there’s something wrong with this Hyrule.”

And the man couldn’t help but agree.

Your eyes stayed glued to the mouth of the wave with a similar sense of foreboding that cast over the entire group. Watching, as the snow fell to create a carpet of white on the dense forest floor, the trees shaking in the breeze of the winter night and with a mist of cold gliding along without a care in sight. As beautiful as it was unsettling, you couldn’t really bathe in the sight when every little nerve danced with adrenaline and readied for fight or flight.

Courage ran every single one of these men, even that fourteen year old just a little right of you, and here you were so close to pissing your own fucking pants.

Glancing over you noticed something in the dark, a chill running up your spine.

Two glowing dots, just between the trees.

“I…”

Your throat dried up, body sinking back into the wall of the cave hoping desperately that it would swallow you whole and spit you back out into a place that wasn’t here. Terrified. You were terrified. No logic, nor reason could help you in this time of peril. A wolf in the forest? No. Your own fear playing tricks, hallucinations haunting your mind? No- you were certain that what you were seeing was real and two feral eyes were staring right at you from within the darkness of the night. Was that what was stalking you? Following you? You-

Epona’s incessant neighs brought you back, eyes snapping towards the mare as she whined and stood, her hooves kicking against the ground as Twilight stood just to her side protectively. Actually, everyone was standing, hands resting on swords and some already pulled as they all focused on the-

…the man standing, staring at you all.

When had he appeared?

“Weary travellers,” He spoke, his voice monotone with not a shred of emotion in his eyes, “It is not safe here, it is best you come with me to shelter.”

That wasn’t a hylian, the doubt strong in your mind. It spoke wrong. It looked wrong. It felt wrong. The uncanny valley was too great for you to deny, it had hylian features, it had a hylian face but there wasn’t a doubt it was a monster in disguise. But not a Yiga, no, their disguises didn't give off this aura- this was way worse.

First scowled, “I know you were a mask, monster, take it off and face us with dignity.”

The thing’s eye twitched and you felt your own hand twitch, the blue of your Sheikah mark slowly blooming into a yellow.

If it attacked, you’d stasis it.

You’d protect yourself and the boys.

Not that they needed it.

“I am a man, just like you.” The words lacked convincing, something shifting in its face- a fire’s shadow couldn’t hide such tricks. “Come with me and I will lead you all to safety.”

It made you sick from just how inhuman it obviously was and how hard it still tried to convince you.

The sound of metal sliding out of it’s sheath pulled your attention to Sky as he readied Fi in his hands, the Master Sword glowing faintly with the power of her holy light. Her sight was relieving, the sword of her hum working to ease your pounding heart and you glanced back at the monster that stared at Sky with wide, dead eyes.

“You…” It hissed, it’s voice a very quick shift from its earlier tone. “Hero of Courage…”

A crack.

A pop.

It’s face began to slowly morph, the boys raising their swords all ready-

When a sword sliced right through its neck and it’s severed head fell heavy to the stony floor, a gargled scream of both pain and anger causing you to slam your hands around your ears in an attempt to save yourself (a little too late) from the absolutely scarring sound.

Blood pooled around the monster, it’s fierce face still frozen in that vicious look before it poofed away like any other monster, leaving behind usual monster part drops in its wake.

Another man now stood in the mouth of a cave more hylian than the last, wiping down his blade before expertly sheathing it back away as he met the eyes of the understandably wary group.

“I apologise.” He spoke, voice quite dull but still holding a human emotion. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you all but it is much better for a sneak attack with such monsters.”

No one spoke a word, the man did a once over.

“Are any of you hurt?”

His gaze fell to you and you paused, taking him in. Clad in an intimidating set of dark armour, with a very thick and warm looking fur cloak settled on his shoulders, the man seemed to tower over you all in the group, with the obvious expectation of Mecha who stayed crouched just a few inches before you and still very ready to pounce. Dirty blonde curls blew with the wind accompanied by a thick beard and moustache for extra protection from the cold. A pale complexion that almost didn’t stand out in the white of the snow had it not been from the red of his blush and his eyes…you had seen those eyes.

Where had you seen those eyes? Almost inhuman but not quite there, greyish blue looking at you curious, probably studying you similar to how you studied them.

“Is your friend hurt?” He asked suddenly, some turning to you. “They look unwell.”

Hyrule rushed over with words of comfort as he helped you unfurl yourself from your panicked ball, helping you to stand while Time and First took attention by stepping forward.

“Are you alright?” Hyrule asked, grasping your cheek and looking at you properly, “Hurt? Do you feel ill?”

“Just a little scared, Hyrule, that’s all.” An understatement, you were close to having a heart attack. “That monster was creepier than usual.”

He cringed, “I didn’t think you would have to experience one like them.”

“Huh? You’ve seen them before?”

“Yes, just once, but…well, let’s say courage can only do so much when you’re separated.”

You shivered at the thought. It was already horrid enough with the group, you couldn’t even begin to think of the horror that would come with it alone.

“How did you know we were here?” Time asked and the two of you turned, watching as the old man, even then, tried to intimidate the taller man. To his credit, he didn’t seem the least bit affected "And what was that creature?”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You do not know of a bugge?”

“We’re not from around him.” Twilight responded, still trying to calm Epona’s jitters. “We’re…travellers.”

“...A bugge is an infected monster from Ganon’s curse.” Everyone tensed at the word, “I was following it when it began to follow something else- which was you all. Despite it’s obvious tricks the monster did not lie, this area is not safe and it would be best to travel to Castle Town. I can lead you there”

Castle Town. You were close to Castle Town, that was good to know.

“How do we know we can trust you?” Legend snarked, crossing his arms over his chest with a glare. “By yourself in the middle of a dangerous forest, somehow tracking the exact monster that lead you to us- quite the coincidence.”

The man glanced to him, eyes still near inhuman. “Are you saying I am a monster?”

“No, but I am saying you’re not very trustworthy.” The Veteran scowled. “So why should we trust you?”

He seemed to take in those words for a moment, staring at the blonde with a dull look that only made him shift uncomfortably as time ticked by- Legend was right. You couldn’t just trust him, you didn’t know who he was and as the Veteran had discussed this was indeed quite the coincidence, especially with your band of heroes.

But then again you felt the caution wasn’t needed, looked at the new face with a feeling that you shared similar to all the men who surrounded you- comfort. Safety. There was an inkling scratching at the back of your mind and you wondered if the assumption that formed from it was correct.

The man zoned back in, blinking. “I have no words to convince you.”

Legend huffed.

“But with the sword the seals the darkness strapped to his back-” He turned towards Sky who straightened, Fi resuming her humming. “I don’t see why you would need to worry, she would have already warned you if I possessed danger.”

“You know of the Master Sword.” Warriors concluded. “Not many we have come across do.”

“I remember the blade that allowed me to end the monster, Ganon.”

Wait, that meant…

“Your name?”

“I believe you already know.” He stood a little taller, a spark of Courage within that greyish blue.

“I am Link, Hero of Hyrule.”

Another hero.

#cloud rambles #linked universe #linked universe x reader #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid #linksona

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