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#it seems like he used the time away to learn new things and grow and become even more amazing
wooahaes · 7 hours
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a splash of color
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pairing: non-idol!s.coups x gn!reader
prompt: soulmate au series. 10/13
word count: 4.7k~
warnings: some angst. food mentions. so much platonic love between cheol n his friends. mentions of other soulmate fics throughout.
daisy’s notes: cheollie :( <3
summary: Seungcheol has lived in a world of grays since he was ten. He’s beyond tired of it and depending on the people around him to tell him what color his shirt is, or which apples are the green ones, or if that bottle is water or clear soda… So where are you, soulmate? He’s waiting.
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Choi Seungcheol considered himself to be someone who was strong. Physically, yes, but he’d been the friend people could count on. Jeonghan once told him that he looked dependable, and that seemed to come true in the way he went about his day. He was the one who would hold his friends up when they were struggling, always with advice or a distraction if that was what they needed. He was the coworker who spoke up when someone was being treated horribly, using his position to protect others. And he was, admittedly, the person who would get called up when they were moving (you’re welcome, Boo Seungkwan). He had his reasons for being strong… but the biggest came from the day he turned ten.
The day of his birthday, he spent it sitting in a doctor’s office, holding his mother’s hand as he stared at boring posters on the wall. The doctor droned on and on about how this was normal, and his mom hung onto every single word he said. Midnight struck, and Seungcheol had slowly watched the colors on the presents he’d found begin to drain away into shades of gray. He’d woken his parents up and their disappointment in him faded into panic: what if it wasn’t his soulmate sign? What if something else had happened to their son? So he’d gone through tests today, just to eliminate what they could the fastest. Sure enough, the loss of color was his soulmate sign… and there wasn’t much relief in the news.
“But how do we find his soulmate?” His mother had clutched his hand within her own, hard enough to hurt. 
The doctor gave a sympathetic shrug. He offered a lollipop to Seungcheol a moment later, wishing him luck. 
Seungcheol threw it in the trash on the way out.
That day had begun a change. A way to adapt to the life he would live for however long. His parents sat in his room as he watched them draw shapes into the tags of his clothing, designating color. His father had laminated a sheet and taped it up inside of his closet door. Every single roommate and friend he’d ever had later in life became his go-to for when he needed a second opinion on his outfits, the same thing his parents had done for him while growing up. Joshua and Jeonghan had been there throughout college to keep him from looking like a disaster—although Seungcheol had his suspicions about some of the shirts he’d worn over the years—and that friend circle expanded from there. He eventually met Minghao, who only saw colors that matched his soulmate’s mood. He’d seen the way Minghao looked at him for the first time upon learning his soulmate sign with the oddest sense of relief. As though it was the first time he’d felt seen in any way. Their experiences differed, but Seungcheol had felt seen, too, with him as a friend. Everyone seemed to understand when Seungcheol gestured toward his eyes with a soft “my soulmate…” as an explanation, too.
Seungcheol had adapted as best as he could, and spent his weekends meeting other people like him. Just in case he found his soulmate that way. He could live like this, sure, but he yearned for the warm embrace of love defined by a shared experience. That was why they had soulmate signs, wasn’t it? 
Yet things were getting harder. A year ago, Seungkwan met his soulmate at an urgent care facility. He’d introduced them to the group with this soft smile on his face, and the two had moved in together a few weeks ago—hence Seungcheol being called upon to help with the heavy lifting… and a bit of the unpacking process, ever the caring dad friend of the group. He’d caught himself on a box cutter that had been left slightly open (earning a million and one apologies from Seungkwan’s soulmate, no matter how many times Seungcheol insisted it was fine). Seungkwan had dropped what he was doing in the kitchen to snag the first aid kit from where he’d already tucked one underneath the kitchen sink, and sat across from his hyung to carefully disinfect it. 
He’d pulled two bandages out, holding them up. “Do you want the pink one with flowers, or the blue one with cherries?”
Seungcheol raised a brow. It was cute, but he had to know…
“We picked them out together,” he had said a moment later, rolling his eyes. “They’re clumsy, and I usually have to patch them up, so we decided to get cute bandages. Now pick.”
“I can’t tell the difference, you know.”
Another pointed look, exasperated at the decision being drawn out this much. “Well? Pick one already before you bleed out.”
“The cherries.” Seungcheol could see the subtle smile tugging at Seungkwan’s lips as he set the other one aside, fingers nimbly unwrapping the bandage. His hands were warm as he held Seungcheol’s hand in one, angling it so that he could smooth the bandage over the side of it. 
For a moment, Seungkwan’s fingertip traced the round red (he assumed) cherries. “You’ll find them, you know. And then I’m going to show you a slideshow of every single ugly outfit Jeonghan tricked you into wearing.” 
Seungcheol found himself smiling already. “I look forward to it.”
Not long after Seungkwan had met his soulmate, Wonwoo ran into his own. He’d been sitting with Vernon and Mingyu apparently, listening to Vernon tell the real story of how Seungkwan found his soulmate. Seungkwan had once said that the day he met his soulmate, he felt as though a part of his soul had come home. There was this newfound sense of peace within him, curling up in his chest like a kitten, that he had never known he’d been longing for. Before Wonwoo, Seungcheol had thought it was Seungkwan being sentimental. Then Wonwoo had sidled up to Seungcheol one night while his soulmate was talking to Mingyu and Jihoon, fingers ghosting over where his string once was. It disappeared with a relieving pop, according to Wonwoo, and yet Seungcheol wondered if Wonwoo still missed it. 
“They were petting a stray cat when I found them, you know,” Wonwoo tucked his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. His shoulders were relaxed, and there was something so tender in his gaze as he watched the way his soulmate laughed at something Jihoon said. “It wasn’t love at first sight, though.” His gaze met Seungcheol’s, and there was a newfound seriousness to them. “But… Seungkwan was right. I found my home.” One of his hands ghosted over his chest, right above his heart. “It was like… Everything was right all of a sudden.”
“They’ve made you sappy,” Seungcheol gently teased.
Wonwoo had cracked a smile, that tender gaze settling onto his soulmate again like a well worn coat. “They like poetry,” he confessed. “I think I’ve been reading more of it for them.” 
Seungcheol understood the feeling. He’d dated before, and he’d done loving little things like that, just to show that he was listening and that he cared. 
“You’ll find them,” Wonwoo said. “I know you will.”
Seungcheol let himself believe that. He believed it for the others, after all: if he believed it for them, then he had to do it for himself, too. That was why he wasn’t surprised when Minghao quietly approached Seungcheol alone. Seungcheol had been at the art gallery that day, actually: he made a point of clearing his schedule enough to drop in and see his masterpiece (not in Minghao’s eyes, but everything Seungcheol’s friends made was a masterpiece in his eyes) as it hung on the wall. He’d seen Minghao with his soulmate, standing next to one another as they discussed more artwork with him. It’d been selfish, but Seungcheol missed having someone within his close circle who understood him. 
All it took was seeing Minghao smile at his soulmate for the first time for that feeling to disappear. He’d seen how badly Minghao struggled, and he hadn’t understood until the day he finally asked him what he meant—just before the exhibit. A few days later, Seokmin had asked Seungcheol to come on a day Minghao had been a little off. A little snowballed into a lot and Minghao’s anger had bubbled up and boiled over within those two hours. 
“It isn’t fair!” He snapped, his canvas still lying on the ground from where he’d thrown it aside. Paint had splattered onto the wooden floor not covered by the drop cloth, and Seokmin had quickly kneeled to scrub it away before it could dry. Minghao stood, fists clenched and heaving in his anger at the world. “They’re ruining my life!”
“Don’t say that.” Seokmin’s gaze softened, voice even quieter. He’d paused in his task for just a moment, just watching his roommate. “Minghao…”
Seungcheol faced his soulmate sign with patience. Minghao lived with an anger he hid underneath it all, buried under hours of meditation and self reflection. 
“I wish I didn’t have a soulmate!” He sobbed, and Seungcheol crossed the room quickly to pull him into his arms. Minghao crumpled into him all too easily, as though he was being held up by toothpicks. “I can’t,” he hiccuped, “I can’t keep doing this. How am I supposed to paint when they’re ruining everything for me?!” 
Seungcheol could only hold him as he cried, fingers digging into his shirt as he held onto him for dear life. And then, a few months later, Minghao had quietly introduced his soulmate to Seungcheol first.
He’d waited until they went to the bathroom to explain. “Because you understand me,” he said, squeezing Seungcheol’s hand in reassurance. Who it was for, Seungcheol wasn’t sure. “Every time I go out with them, I can’t help but regret everything I’ve felt toward them.” His voice dropped lower, softer, to keep their conversation between the two of them. “They’re understanding, and kind, and… I think I’m falling in love with them, Cheol. And I’m scared.”
Seungcheol squeezed his hand back. “That’s okay,” he said. “They seem very kind. Do they know…?”
“I think they might.” Minghao glanced toward the bathroom for just a moment. “I’ll tell them one day that I struggled. They deserve to know.” He took a deep breath, slowly exhaling. “I wanted you to meet them first because you were right. I wanted to love them.” His fingers curled around Seungcheol’s hand, holding on tight. “I still do.” He paused, and wiped at the tears brimming with a soft chuckle. “I think… I think you’re going to be worse, though.”
Seungcheol raised his brows. “Hm?”
“When you meet your soulmate,” he said. “You’ll cry, I think.”
Seungcheol laughed at that, warm as ever. He already knew that he would. 
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The rest of the group seemed to be finding their soulmates over time. Joshua met his soulmate in the space between Vernon and Jihoon meeting their own, and Seungcheol saw the telltale relief on the latter two’s faces. The two of them didn’t have obvious signs, after all: Seungcheol knew the way that kind of thing could affect someone. Seungcheol would sit around, thinking about his own soulmate as he watched his friends meet theirs. Would he rather have this sign, or be like them, wondering if he had a soulmate. Would he have already found someone perfect for him? Or would he leave them for his soulmate if he met and loved them more? The thought alone made his chest ache.
It was better like this. Even the idea of heartbreak was enough to unsettle him.
“He’s turning red, by the way,” Vernon casually said as Jihoon watched his soulmate step away to socialize with Mingyu, who had called them over to ask them something about their current hair color—a perfect match for Jihoon’s, as it always is. 
“So?” Jihoon said, and then looked up to realize Vernon was standing next to Seungcheol. He was choked up for a moment, betrayed by Vernon—Vernon, who Jihoon adored like a little brother. “Why would you tell him that?!” He frowned despite the way Vernon chuckled. “The one person who can’t tease me about it yet…”
“Yet,” Seungcheol emphasized. He smiled behind his sip of beer, looking away for a second. Everyone seemed to speak as though they knew.
“I’ll find them myself if I have to,” Jihoon said. “However you meet them will be better than how I met mine.”
Joshua threw an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder, chuckling. “You mean being yelled at in a beauty store isn’t your ideal way of meeting your soulmate?”
“Didn’t your soulmate yell at him, too?” Vernon nodded toward Jihoon.
Jihoon cracked a smile. Ah. Yes. Jihoon did have a role in Joshua’s soulmate hearing that same song over and over and over. “They did.”
“We can’t all have a soulmate we’ve been in love with for months,” Joshua said, reaching out to flick the back of Vernon’s head. “Jerk.”
(Or years, if they were Jeonghan, looked as if he’d rather be home and asleep right now.) 
Seungcheol had laughed along with the others, only for it to fade soon enough. There was so much love in the room that he hadn’t exactly felt in a while, always afraid to fully commit to someone when this great love was still out there. “Is it worth it?”
The group fell quiet around him. No one ever felt the need to hide their soulmate with the group, even with those who didn’t have them. They were adults, after all: they could handle someone having what they didn’t (whether that was yet or at all differed from person to person). But Seungcheol knew that they were always treading lightly, never going too far when talking about their soulmates. Vernon had been the first one who met his gaze and nodded.
“Yeah. It’s worth it.” He paused. “It’s hard… but it’s worth it.” 
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Things had begun to change even more after Mingyu met his own soulmate. Seungcheol remembered sitting down for dinner with him and a few others, officially celebrating that Vernon found his soulmate. Everyone knew about the words neatly inked onto Mingyu’s bicep, always something to tease him about. Sometimes Seungcheol wished he had something like that. It’d give him more of a hint about who his soulmate was, maybe. Mingyu’s soulmate knew that he was a sap: what would Seungcheol’s soulmate be like? Would they look at him and see someone reliable and strong? Or would they see someone pouting at his friends teasing him and think him silly? He’d deal with as many silly thoughts as he could if it meant he knew something about this person. 
Yet he remembered something that Mingyu had said to his soulmate: I can wait a little longer for you. Seungcheol could wait, too, and he would, but…
“Would you have?” Seungcheol asked one night, stretched out in a lawn chair. Mingyu was sitting in the other, nursing a beer between his hands, and maybe the two of them had been drinking a little too much. “Waited for them longer, I mean.”
Mingyu’s eyes were twinkling as he looked up at the sky, that bashful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes.”
I can wait a little longer for you. Seungcheol wasn’t surprised Mingyu meant it. Mingyu was one of the sappiest people he knew, always so in love with everything and everyone around him. Others were warmer, more sunshine-y and loving, but Mingyu found something beautiful in life itself. Handsome as he was, Mingyu had one of the biggest hearts of anyone Seungcheol knew. 
“Hey…” He pawed through the air toward Seungcheol’s hand, and Seungcheol rolled his eyes with a smile as he extended it. Mingyu wrapped his fingers around his palm, squeezing it tight. “I’m sorry you haven’t found them yet.”
Chan had met his soulmate right after Mingyu through the joint effort of said soulmate and their best friend. He was already enamored with this giddy joy, gushing about something cute they were doing. Jeonghan had finally met his soulmate face to face a month ago. It didn’t surprise him that Jeonghan had already talked about life plans after years of being in love with this person. Maybe Seungcheol was destined to find his soulmate last. He was okay with that: he’d rather see his friends happy first, and then find that happiness for himself.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“No, no, it is,” his voice was tinged with this drunken laughter that made Seungcheol wonder what was so funny. He “It is.” He calmed down, squeezing his hand tighter. “You always pretend you’re okay, but we know you aren’t. We know it’s hard.” He looked over to where Seokmin and Soonyoung were standing. “Not just for you, too, but…”
Seungcheol looked toward the house where Jun was yelling at the others through his own laughter. They had all been doing stupid dares, and Jun was apparently the unfortunate victim of a severe switch between salt and sugar. He was half-offended that they’d given him this when they all knew that he and his soulmate could taste what the other was eating. He didn’t want to scare them off by making them think he was some weirdo who messed around with weird flavor combinations.
“I mean it.” Mingyu brought him back to the moment, swinging their connected hands for a moment. “It’s hard, and we know you’re strong… But it’s okay if you aren’t, okay?” He smiled softly at him. “We can be strong with you.” 
Seungcheol knew this well. He’d opened up to his friends before that he’d never find his soulmate and never know why they were meant for him. He’d seen the way everyone else seemed to fit together well. Seungkwan and his patient, caring soulmate who seemed to lovingly challenge him. Wonwoo and his quiet soulmate who seemed content to snuggle close to him and whisper little things that would make him smile. Vernon and his laid-back soulmate who would make playful jabs and match his energy. What would his soulmate be like? Would they be someone who enjoyed caring for others…? He’d started going on blind dates again a little after Vernon found his soulmate, and none of them seemed to work. 
“The right person will find you,” was what Jeonghan said to him, laying down beside him, a week after Mingyu reassured him lovingly. “Whether they’re your soulmate or not, you’ll find them.” 
But what if they don’t? Seungcheol shut his eyes. Not everyone lived like Jeonghan, who dreamed over and over of his soulmate until he finally found them. He’d fallen even deeper in love with his soulmate now that he could kiss them for real. Soonyoung had hugged Seungcheol a little longer the last time it was just the two of them. It was bothering him, and it bothered Seokmin, too. Jun knew his soulmate was out there, the same as Seungcheol. Those two…
Seungcheol chose to believe they had soulmates, too. Whether they were ordained by the universe or to be chosen by them in time, Seungcheol wasn’t sure. But if he had a soulmate, then Seokmin and Soonyoung had to, too. He had to hold onto hope with white knuckles when the others were starting to struggle. If he didn’t, then… Who would?
“I know,” Seungcheol sighed out. He turned onto his side, opening his eyes to watch how Jeonghan had pulled out his phone. “What did they send you this time?”
Jeonghan looked over, humming before the question sank in. “You don’t want to hear about my soulmate.”
He snickered a little. “I do! You don’t have to share, but you can still talk about them if you want to.”
Jeonghan angled his screen so that Seungcheol could see the long video essay (a rant about a book, apparently) that his soulmate had sent to him. “They’re watching this,” he said. He smiled a little more, eyes crinkling slightly, “They’re cute. I don’t know if I’ll watch it, but I like knowing what they’re watching.” 
Seungcheol wondered what you were watching, wherever you were. “Jeonghan?”
“Mhm?”
“I’m glad you found them.” 
Jeonghan dropped his phone onto the mattress beside him, and his hand found Seungcheol’s a moment later. “I’m glad I found you and Joshua.” He let out a soft hum. “I think I would have struggled much more without you two being in my life. So…” He turned his head. “Thank you for being here.” 
Seungcheol’s grip tightened around his friend’s hand, and he found himself smiling. “Yeah. You too.” 
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“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Joshua was nervously patting down his pockets for the fifth time in the past few minutes. “They’re not alone. I know grocery shopping for stuff like this gets hard, and—”
“I’m fine.” Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “I’ve done it alone before. Stop acting like I can’t handle myself. It’s fine that you’re worried—”
“I’m not worried,” Joshua immediately said. “I’m fine. They’re not alone, I’m fine, I just—” He let out a sigh. “It’s mostly my list. I’ll take my things off, and you can just worry about the staples, and—”
Seungcheol managed just fine most days when he needed to get groceries. After all, most things had labels on them or near them in some shape or form. Unfortunately, there were a few too many things that had colors written beside them. This list was more Joshua’s list than his own (Joshua had plans to surprise his partner with a dessert they’d lovingly gazed at while out together a week ago), but Seungcheol didn’t mind doing this favor for him. He might have to ask for a little help if he needed to, but this was not as big a deal as it was being made into.
So he rested a hand on Joshua’s shoulder, stopping him from checking again that he had everything before he left. “They need you now,” he said, firm as can be. “Go. I can take care of this.”
Joshua dove forward, hugging Seungcheol tight for a moment. He drew back, “You’re a lifesaver. I’m sure everything’s fine, but—”
“Just go!” Seungcheol laughed softly. “Stop stalling.”
Joshua had thanked him one final time before taking off, the door slamming behind him. Seungcheol let out a sigh of relief. Finally. He looked at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. From what he heard from the on-speaker phone call Joshua had received from his partner’s roommate, Joshua’s soulmate had a slight accident during lunch and now they were waiting to get stitches at urgent care. Apparently, they were nervous about it due to being terrified of needles, and Joshua had gone from being chill and content to absolutely freaking out when their roommate said it was ‘worse’ than they kept trying to make it out to be. Joshua knew how bad his partner could be about undermining their pain. Hence him elevating to a nervous mess and needing to go see them to know how bad it really was.
Seungcheol was sure things were fine. And if they weren’t, then Joshua would be there. He looked down at the list, looking over Joshua’s neat handwriting. Right. The sooner he got back from shopping, the sooner he could take that off of Joshua’s mind. He’d glanced over the list once before leaving, and then again when he finally had a shopping cart at the store. 
… What kind of dessert was this specific about the different apples it needed? No matter. Seungcheol could read the little chalk headings just fine. He snagged a little bag for the apples, and began scanning through the headings for the first kind he needed… only to see one of them had been smudged. One quick google search told him that one was pinker than the other. Shit. Of course. 
“Excuse me,” Seungcheol said when someone had been close enough for him to flag down. “I’m…” He gestured vaguely toward his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t have to elaborate. “I can’t tell which one’s are the pinkish red ones yet. The, uh, the pink lady ones?”
Yet. The magic yet always found its way onto the ends of his sentences when it involved his soulmate. Maybe he should stop.
Yet you’d given him this pitiful smile, looking away. “Really bad luck, then,” you had said. “I can’t really help with that one. Same boat, you know?” You stepped to his side, reaching for one of the apples to turn and find the sticker. “But,” you dragged out the word, squinting at how tiny the words are. “I think these are the ones you’re looking for.” You had grabbed your own bag, looking for a few from the top of the bunch right next to these—a slightly different color, he was sure. “And these are honeycrisp, if you need those.” 
Seungcheol began to gather a few, thanking you. A moment later, he stole a little glance at you. “So… You can’t see color, either?”
You had shrugged. “It is what it is.” 
“You aren’t mad?”
You glanced over at him, brows drawing together. “At my soulmate? Not anymore. But when I was ten? I was pissed.” You let out a sigh. “I loved rainbows as a kid. Rainbow fish, rainbow fruit, rainbows in general… And then I woke up and it was all gone.” 
Seungcheol frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” You shrugged. “Life is hard, but it’d be hard regardless.”
“But this is different.” Seungcheol looked back at the blurry chalk labels and how the letters blended into one another. “Isn’t it?”
“It is,” you nodded. “But… Sometimes they say people like us will lose it again once our soulmate dies. If that’s true, then I want to meet my soulmate and experience that world again together while we can.”
He’d never considered that before. He’d heard the same thing before, too. He spent so much of his life yearning for another person that was supposed to fit perfectly with him that he never thought about what came next after he met them. After all, Minghao and his soulmate had to adjust, didn’t they? The experience linked him to someone else, and it left Seungcheol wondering how his soulmate felt about all of this. Would this bond them? That’s what it was supposed to do, right? Seungkwan shared pain with his soulmate and now his number was one of their emergency contacts, and they were his number one priority when they were together. Joshua could still hear his soulmate sing even now, but softer than it was before (and it still grew softer every day since). There was the unity of a shared experience, and Seungcheol wondered if his soulmate would cry with him the first day they got to watch a sunset together.
“I see.”
“Other people are bothered by it and that’s okay,” you reached toward the top of the apples where they looked the juiciest. “I’ll find my soulmate one day, and then we’ll—”
All at once, life changed. You had lost your balance, and Seungcheol immediately reached to catch you. The bag fell from your grasp as your hands gripped his biceps to steady yourself, apples rolling across the floor as your eyes met his own. He stared at you, lips slightly parted as he tried to find his words just to ask if you were okay. Yet there was the strangest feeling flooding his chest, face growing warmer. 
“Are you okay?”
Yet something was already changing. The first color he saw was your eyes, and the world grew warmer, more saturated with color by the second. He could see the purple of your sweatshirt, the reds and pinks and golds of the apples stacked up upon beige wood. The slate gray tile underneath his feet, the off-white lighting tinged with gold. He could kiss you now, and yet all he could do was look into your eyes again and commit the color to memory. He saw you as you were, and he wanted to commit every little detail and blemish and imperfection to memory.Your surprise gave way to a smile. “Well… Hello, soulmate.”
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tzarina-alexandra · 3 days
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Jonah essay??
Jonah is my favourite book of the Bible at the moment and lives in my head rent free for the following reasons
Jonah is very unique among the Old Testament prophets in that he's openly rebellious against God (the others may still doubt or question, like Moses, Elijah etc but this guy straight up goes in the 180 degrees opposite direction of where he's told to go like 'nope!'). The book is unique among the prophetic books in that it doesn't focus on the message of the prophecy (which is literally just a short sentence), but on the character of the prophet himself. It's intentionally designed to contrast all the other prophetic books and paint almost a parody of them, with all the roles reversed (for this interpretation see the Bible Project video)
The main message of Jonah is actually a very radical view of grace and forgiveness, which may seem surprising given that this is an Old Testament book and it is surrounded by books only about judgement and condemnation. Instead, Jonah is faced with his most hated enemies, the Assyrians (Ninivites = those living in the capital, Niniveh), who were exceptionally brutal foes to the Israelites, engaging in sadistic torture aside from the usual killing and pillaging. (And mind you, the Assyrians are those who take the Israelites in the first exile, before the Babylonians do). We may assume Jonah is being weird for not wanting to engage with them, but if Jonah took place in the modern times, he'd be asked by the Lord to go preach the Gospel to the jihadis or North Korean authorities or something like that. Jonah is 100% justified to fear going to preach to his most beloathed enemies, and, from a human perspective, he is justified to hate his enemies. But the God we serve has a different view of things: love your enemies and bless those who curse you. It's absolutely amazing and wonderful to me that this message is so explicitly laid out even in the Old Testament. (see also Ezekiel 18:23)
This book spoke to me in a very personal way. I read this in a season in which it was very hard to keep a consistent Bible reading, but the Lord used that, too, as I ended up reading it around October. With the attacks being such a recent event in the news, I was forced to think about my attitude towards people whom I might consider my enemies. And, in truth, growing up seeing all sorts of terrorist attacks in the news and hearing about Christians in other countries being brutally persecuted, I imagined for a long time that jihadis are the most evil group of people out there. But since October I've finally decided to learn a bit about what Islam teaches and came to the conclusion that Muslims are deceived in the same way as any other false religion, and that they're, in some ways, close to the truth, believing in Jesus as a prophet, for example, but at the same time, so far away, denying the crucifixion, resurrection, and ultimately redemption brought by Christ. And in my summer school in August I had met two Muslim girls and they were much more moderate than I had expected etc. I did feel a lot of sympathy towards their struggles (one of them described such a painful path to works salvation, and she even said she doubts whether she'll end up in Heaven). But upon reading Jonah I was forced to confront the fact that it shouldn't even matter to me whether the Muslims in question are moderate and amiable, or extremist and violent, because Jesus died for both, and loves both, and wants both to repent.
As a more general principle from the above anecdote, if in the New Testament we have a violent persecutor, Saul (become Paul the Apostle) repenting and following the true God, in the Old Testament, in the book of Jonah, we have a violent persecutor group of people, an entire city of people Jonah was right to see as enemies - and yet God searched their hearts with even Jonah's minimal sermon, and they all repented in sackcloth and ashes! This shows that God can bring redemption on the individual level, but also on a much larger scale (see 2 Chronicles 7:14)
Jonah really really hammers home the point of how much God cares about ALL His creation, plants, animals and especially humans, made in his image. Jonah gravely misplaced his priorities in being upset at the tree withering, when the loss of the souls of that entire city would've been infinitely more painful to God (even though Jonah said he wanted to die just from seeing that the tree withered - more on that later). I find it very meaningful that the very last verses are "10 Then said the Lord, Thou hast had pity on the gourd, for the which thou hast not laboured, neither madest it grow; which came up in a night, and perished in a night: 11 And should not I spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than sixscore thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left hand; and also much cattle?" Jonah got the tree for free and still mourns for it, while God created every single human being, and knows their souls (and also created every single living being, and doesn't neglect to mention those either)
Jonah is, in essence, a parable about forgiveness and unforgiveness, not unlike the parable of the unmerciful servant in Matthew 18:21-35. Jonah literally just had his life miraculously saved but he's still eager to see his enemies destroyed. God showed mercy on Jonah (and he acknowledged as much!!!) but Jonah shows no mercy to the Ninivites and actively wants to sabotage them. The unmerciful servant is full of hatred and rage towards his debtor, even though he had been forgiven so much, and Jonah is upset that his enemies had not been punished, and far too easily undervalues the mercy of God. Like the parable in Matthew, the book of Jonah is meant to make us reflect on our own attitude. God loves and forgives His enemies, yet we often act as if we are above such things.
Despite being the Rebellious Prophet, Jonah gets quite the spotlight among the other prophets, being directly cited by Jesus (as a metaphor). The sign of Jonah as per Matthew 16:4 is resurrection from the dead, and, even more specifically, resurrection on the 3rd day. On the one hand, this is yet another example of God using very imperfect people to send His message. But, more importantly, Jonah is a book about resurrection and redemption, in a much more explicit manner than other Old Testament books. While I wouldn't say Jonah is a Christic figure, on account of his open rebellion against God, he is a representation of resurrection that Jesus Himself uses as an illustration. God saved Jonah's life so as to preach to the Ninivites and bring them to repentance, not destruction. Jesus died but rose again the 3rd day to bring redemption to the entire world.
Also also also. Jonah 4:11 vs Luke 23:34. God directly telling Jonah that these people don't know left from right and Jesus crying out that they 'know not what they do'. Do remember that the Assyrians were brutal in their killings, going as far as to flay people alive. So were the Romans, with their crucifixions (the word excruciating comes exactly from this). These are examples of brutal, violent, hard-hearted people. Yet Jesus still loves them, still died for them, and even saw how deceived they all are by Satan's lies! This makes me think about verse 10 of Jonah 4 again. God tells Jonah he didn't even toil to make that tree grow. I wonder. This is only speculation. It's like God was thinking precisely of the crucifixion when He looked at the Ninivites and said those words. They know not what they do...
Jonah is an example of unbelievers being more humble and eager to repent than so-called believers. See Luke 18:13 (have mercy on me, a sinner!). Jonah shows himself to be quite prideful and hard-hearted, much like the Pharisees, but the sailors and the Ninivites repent and cry out to God the moment they realise they are in danger of death.
Jonah is one of the few Biblical characters to express suicidal thoughts (he repeatedly wishes to die when the tree withers and when he sees that his bitter enemies hadn't been punished), and, arguably, even an attempt (he is way too eager to have the sailors throw him into the sea, while they're extremely distressed to have his blood on their hands). God quite literally saves Jonah from himself, and forces him to consider his views on life.
And many many many more. It's only 4 chapters long but absolutely packed with meaning and symbolism. It's really really my fav book at the moment.
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disillusioneddanny · 3 months
Text
Danny felt like his stomach was tied in knots as he finished getting ready for the day. Dick had told him that they were going to Wayne Manor for Danny’s birthday dinner and Danny was feeling sick with nerves. Growing up, his parents had never really acknowledged Danny’s birthday, had never even really remembered it if he was being completely honest. Danny suspected that it had to do with the fact that they had never really even wanted Danny in the first place, but he had never been brave enough to actually voice those thoughts to anyone.
Living with his adoptive parents, Danny was quickly realizing that his relationship with his parents was more complicated than he had ever realized. With Dick, things were easy. The two had breakfast each morning, sugary cereals more often than not, they would have a pun off as they got ready for their day and then Dick would drop Danny off at Bludhaven High and he’d go off to work at the local community center. And without fail, each day he would pick Danny up from school, they would talk about their day and then have dinner together before Dick went off on patrols as Nightwing and Danny found himself manning the computer and keeping an ear open for any crime going on that needed Nightwing’s attention.
Their weekends were usually filled with different outings and adventures. Whether that be Dick dragging Danny to the movies, or going to different festivals that were being held in the city, or going off Gotham to hang out with Dick’s and well, now Danny’s, family to hang out. Or he would find himself going with Barbara to see a play or to a coffee shop to hang out and people-watch. It was weird and not something Danny was super used to. He had never had a parent that cared this much about him. Or even asked him what he wanted to do.
That was the thing with the Fentons, Danny realized. They did things to spend time with Danny, to act like they were putting in the effort to be a good parent to him. But it had always been on their terms, it was always things that they wanted to do. They never really cared all that much for Danny’s input or even really listened when he would try to say he didn’t want to do something.
Dick and Barbara respected him and he treated Danny like the now sixteen-year-old he was rather than just a pest. It never failed to make Danny’s heart feel warm with affection for the older man who had taken him in. He had been living with the Graysons for six months now and there were so many things he was learning about himself and realizing about the Fenton’s that he just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around a lot of it.
He had known that the Fenton’s weren’t great parents, it was a niggling thought that stayed with Danny the majority of his life. A thought that got a bit louder when he was around Tucker’s parents or Valerie’s dad, parents who truly loved their kids and were attentive and knew what was going on in their lives–well for the most part. But they were parents who made an effort and actively tried to be there for their kids, to get to know them and encourage their interests.
Jack and Maddie had never really done that for Danny, not really. They did it with Jazz to an extent, but even then it wasn’t the way Danny had seen other parents interact with their kids, it wasn’t the same way that Dick and Barbara seemed to interact with Danny.
But even though he had those niggling thoughts, he still strived for their approval, for their love and attention and he never really seemed to get it.
Then they had found out that Danny was a halfa and Danny found himself fighting for his life to get away from the Fenton’s. They had held him captive for a week before he had finally found a way to escape. And then he ran and ran and ran until he found himself in Bludhaven, New Jersey and living on the streets.
But living on the streets was by far better than being the Fenton’s prisoners. It was after three months of living on the streets that Nightwing had found him beating the shit out of a mugger who had been attacking a woman. Then two months of the two of them talking and learning more about each other. And then Nightwing had decided he wanted Danny to live with him, not only that but he wanted to help Danny get justice. And then Danny learned that Nightwing was Dick Grayson and Danny found himself getting adopted by the thirty-one-year-old and his wife, Barbara.
And then it had become the best six months of Danny’s life. The couple were amazing and he found himself seeing Dick and Barbara as his parents more and more. Part of him wondered if he should have felt bad about how easy it was to replace Jack Fenton and Maddie
But then Danny reminded himself that Jack Fenton and Maddie Fenton were now serving a life sentence in Belle Reve down in Louisiana for torturing and vivisecting his then fifteen-year-old son. Then Danny didn’t feel nearly as bad. Especially not when he was the one who was forced to look at the vivisection scars that marred his chest or the lightning-shaped scars that trailed from the palm of his hand to his heart. Then he remembered that not only had his parents experimented on and tortured him. But they had also created an unsafe environment that led to Danny’s half-death in the first place.
Dick had been the one to tell him that it was their fault he had died in the first place. Had clenched his jaw and shook in anger as he held back from flying to Amity Park to kill the Fentons himself. Jason, Dick’s brother, had been more than happy to help him finish the job when Dick had told him what happened.
That was another thing.
Dick’s family was insane.
But in a good way. Not Fenton’s level insane. But an insane where Danny knew that he could call any of them and they would come to fight for him, even Damian who had been a little prickly when he found out that Dick was adopting a kid the same age as him. Damian had shown him his sword collection once and then viciously announced that anyone who laid a single finger on his nephew’s head would see just how deadly the Robin could truly be.
Which, well, Danny appreciated. But he had also quietly decided that he would never let Damian know if something happened. He really didn’t want to be the reason his uncle went to juvie.
Jason was fun, the two bonded over their deaths and compared scars. Cass was a calm peace that Danny found himself appreciating when the others were a bit too much. Tim had to be Danny’s favorite out of his new uncles.
Tim was the one who took him train hopping, who he cried to about the fact that his parents had been so horrible to him. Tim was the one who understood what it was like to grow up with neglectful parents who loved their work more.
Duke was kind and funny and conniving and as the only other meta in the family the two had created a fun camaraderie between them and Danny felt comforted in knowing that they had that solidarity between them. Duke was also the one who Danny found himself going to when his shoulders felt a little too heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.
Danny’s new grandfather and great-grandfather had been wonderful too. They had accepted Danny with open arms and Danny was pretty sure he had heard Bruce argue with Dick about adoption papers a few times in regards to Danny and being put out that Dick had beat him to it. Whatever the heck that meant.
And then there was Danny’s new adoptive mother, Barbara and she had been a pillar when Danny needed one. She had welcomed Danny to their home with open arms and had been the one to spearhead the investigation into the Fentons. The one who had gotten a hold of Danny’s records and taken care of virtually everything. She scared the absolute shit out of Danny but also gave the most amazing advice, the most comforting hugs, and had been exactly what Danny needed. She was also the one to show Danny that he could still be a hero without going out onto the field and had decided to train Danny to be an Oracle in his own right.
He had kept the name Phantom. But now it was more so because he was a ghost who saw everything and heard everything. He went out onto the field with the bats when they absolutely needed his firepower, but his preferred spot was being the man behind the scenes. After everything he had gone through being a vigilante in Amity Park, he wasn’t sure if he would ever want to be out there fighting bad guys, not like he was.
Again, he didn’t mind it when the bats really needed help, or if a disaster happened and they needed Danny’s powers to help out. He had even let Bruce train him to be able to fight just as good as any of the bats, and let Barbara’s Birds of Prey teach him some tricks that Bruce would never approve of.
But he was happy. He was happy and loved and safe and he couldn’t get over the fact that he had such an amazing family all for himself.
Barbara and Dick were amazing and had folded Danny into their family so seamlessly and wonderfully that it had him feeling safer than he had ever felt in his life.
Which was why he was so damn nervous about what he was about to do, why his birthday felt so terrifying and anxiety-inducing. He had decided that he was going to officially call Dick and Barbara his mom and dad today and he was hoping it went well.
He didn’t think they’d be mad. In all honesty, he was pretty sure that they’d be pretty pumped about it. But that didn’t take the nerves and anxiety away either.
He shook his head and finally allowed himself to walk out of his bedroom. He made his way to the kitchen where Barbara was bringing food to the dining room table while Dick was flipping a pancake onto another plate.
“Good morning Danny!” Barbara said cheerfully when she spotted Danny coming in. The sixteen-year-old gave her a nervous smile, bent down and kissed her cheek lightly.
“Morning Mom,” he said before he could back out of it. He glanced over at Dick who was now staring at him starstruck. “Morning Dad,” he said cheerfully before he waltzed over and grabbed the plate in his father’s frozen hands.
“I get birthday pancakes? Sweet,” he said with a wide smile before he grabbed a fork and made it back to the table, his adoptive parents both seemingly frozen in place. He tilted his head to the side as he took in Barbara’s form as she sat frozen in her wheelchair and to Dick who hadn’t moved, even after Danny took the plate from his hands. Maybe it was too soon to call them his parents, maybe they didn’t want that. Regret started to nibble at the edges of his stomach as he looked at them.
“Are you guys okay?” He asked hesitantly before his dad let out a loud sob and came running towards him and hugged him tight.
“My baby!” Dick cried, his arms wrapped tight against Danny’s chest. It was like he was being held onto by an octopus. Dick pulled the plate of pancakes away from Danny and set it on the table. Danny let out a groan as he struggled against his dad’s grip as Dick started to pepper his head and his cheeks with kisses. “Danny Grayson I love you so much,” he cried out.
“Dick,” Barbara said with a laugh as she rolled over, hitting Dick’s leg lightly with her wheelchair. “You’re going to smother our son,” she said and Danny felt the butterflies in his stomach start doing somersaults at that. Their son.
He was their son.
“I’m just so happy,” he cried out. “Fuck, is this how Bruce feels when we call him Dad?” he asked, letting out a sniff as he finally pulled away from Danny and started to fix the teenager’s hair.
“Yes, it is,” Danny’s mom said, giving him an amused smile. The redhead held her arms open for Danny and the sixteen-year-old happily bent down to give his mom a hug. “I love you, sweetie,” she said softly.
“Love you too,” he said with a chuckle. “Now, what’s all this?” He asked, motioning to the table that was full of different breakfast foods.
Barbara beamed. “We wanted to have a fun little breakfast before we started all of our birthday festivities. Dick and I have a few surprises for you, and we’re going to go and get lunch with my dad, then we’ve got a few more activities before we go over to Bruce’s tonight for your birthday party.”
Danny couldn’t help but smile widely at his parents. “We’re doing stuff all day?” He asked, feeling breathless and a little dizzy at the thought.
“Of course,” Dick said, slinging his arm over Danny’s shoulder. “Today’s all about you and we’ve got a lot to celebrate.”
Danny gave his parents a small, excited smile. “Yeah, we do,” he said softly. He had so much to celebrate, his new life, his new parents, his newfound happiness. He couldn’t wait to see where they were going to go from here. But he knew that it was going to be amazing. How could it not when he had such an amazing family taking care of him?
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 5 months
Text
Practice On Me — Part Eleven — Azriel x Reader
Summary: Reader receives a much-needed pep talk in Velaris and gets thinking. Azriel receives a lecture in Windhaven by a frustrated Rhysand. Reader is surprised by an unexpected visitor to the City of Starlight.
Word count:
Warnings: A little bit of smut, 18+, minors dni.
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Velaris feels like an entire world away from Windhaven.
You’ve been here only once before, when, as mischievous fourteen-year-olds, Rhysand had brought you. The High Lord had been in another court on business, which had seemed like the perfect time for Rhys to show you his other home. Only, his father had returned early, and had thundered — hard enough to shake the mountains — about strangers entering the shielded city without formal invitation. Not you, nor Cassian, nor Azriel, had been back since.
And that lingering encounter was why, when Roza brought you here three days earlier, you’d been nervous about coming face-to-face with the High Lord yet again.
But the handsome, roguish male had merely given you a long, slow perusal, and then smiled a charming smile — about the only thing Rhys seems to have inherited from him — and welcomed you to his home for as long as you do so please.
It’s tranquil, there’s no doubt about that. Light and airy and so beautiful that you can forget, for a time, that there’s a world outside the City of Starlight. You’ve spent the last three days at Roza’s side, exploring the city and helping her run light errands, and attending to her at the end of the day when the pregnancy tires her out.
The High Lord — Finadar, or Fin, as you’ve learned most people call him — does no such thing. He does not visit his pregnant mate after long, tiring days. Does not summon her.
Despite the growing new arrival in her belly, there’s a distinct lack of love between the two of them that surprises you, perhaps more than anything else.
But tonight, with Roza joining him for a public appearance, you’re left alone with your thoughts for the first time in three days. And you’re desperate to do anything to fight them off.
You wander the long, spacious halls of the High Lord’s opulent home, warm, despite the brutal mountain range that stands guard around it. This is a level of luxury you were never built for, and don’t quite know what to do with. You read from Roza’s broad selection of literature, and gorge on sweets in the kitchen, and slide along the polished floors on your socks, because why the fuck not.
It’s better than thinking. Anything is better than thinking.
But as the night wears on and the silence gets too loud, it’s hard to keep deeper thoughts at bay. Your heart aches relentlessly over the broken shards of your loving friendship group that you don’t know how to glue back together. Your mind swoons longingly over old memories, old smiles. You’re a hollow vessel of complications, and regrets, and excruciating love—
“I heard you were here.” A trilling voice echoes from the far end of the hall you’re traversing.
You turn, and you think you might choke out a strangled noise of relief at the sight of shimmering, golden curls and warm, brown eyes, huge like a doe’s.
Mor looks far better than the last time you saw her, that’s for sure. She’s always radiant, no matter what she has going on, but the sun-kissed glimmer has returned to her skin, and the gaunt fragility from her hardships has been snuffed out by delicious, enviable curves.
You’re in front of her in what feels like a few great strides, and she’s cupping your face in her hands and kissing both of your cheeks.
“I’ve missed you.” You breathe, realising, in that moment, just how much you have. She doesn’t spend as much time in Windhaven as she used to, and gods, the absence of a sincere female friend is a weighty one.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Concern fills her eyes as she studies you.
“Rhys, Az and Cass aren’t here. It’s just me—”
“I know.” She links her arm through yours. “And let’s be glad of it. I’ve had enough of males to last me a damn eternity.” She’s barely taken a few steps forward before she’s stopping and studying you again. “Roza tells me you’re having a hard time.”
Just like that, you feel yourself begin to crumble. There’s something about the concern of others that utterly obliterates the walls you try to craft around yourself.
And at the first glimpse of tears filling your eyes, Mor is tugging you along again.
“Come.” She says. “I know where the High Lord keeps his stash of booze.”
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
“You don’t ever come to Windhaven anymore. Why is that?”
There’s the slightest tensing in the set of Mor’s shoulders as she returns the stopper to a decanter containing dark amber liquid. She turns, handing you a glass.
“I figured you knew.” She says. “My father is being strict about me not spending time there.”
On some level, you think you did know. It’s not hard to figure it out.
For a time, Mor was a pretty frequent member of your friendship group, visiting as often as she could — until a few years ago, when a fight broke out between Cassian and Rhys, and then Mor just stopped coming around. The matter was swept under the rug and not mentioned again. But with her father being so strict—
“Ah.” You murmur, the pieces clicking into place. “Cass, huh?”
Mor snorts softly. “Yes. Cass.” She shakes her head fondly. “Before you ask, no, I don’t have feelings for him. Not like that. It was just…a choice I made for myself. And I’ve never regretted it, even if my father is determined to make my life hell because of it. But I didn’t come here to talk about me.” Her eyes rake over you. “Tell me everything.”
So, you do. The words come spilling out of you in a flurry of shame and heartache. You tell her every damn detail and spare none. And when you’re finally done, you take a breath and wonder — not for the first time — how the fuck you’ve managed to create this situation for yourself.
Mor frowns at you. “I—” She seems genuinely speechless. “Cauldron, I thought my situation was complicated.”
You shake your head. “I’ve made such a mess of things, Mor.”
“Why haven’t you told Azriel how you feel?”
“I wanted to. Gods, I planned to. But I supposed walking in on him and Kaeda made me realise that there’s no point.”
“First of all, that’s bullshit.” She takes a seat opposite you. “Love is one of very few things that there is always a point to. Your self-loathing my try to convince you otherwise, but it’s always better to be honest and face whatever outcome than suffer in silence and wonder what would have been.”
You open your mouth, but she’s holding up a hand.
“Secondly, I don’t like the sound of this Kaeda one bit. I know almost nothing about Fenlaros, but what I do know is that she must have some sort of backing — not just that of her Camp Lord father — that gives her the ability to flounce in and out of a rival camp at her leisure without a single consequence. And that tells me she’s up to something. And that makes me nervous that it’s Azriel, of all people, that she’s attached herself to. Not that Az isn’t a total catch — of course, he is. But he’s also a very, very rare gift who always has sights set on him. I’d wager that that plays into Kaeda’s interest somewhere.”
You fall still in your seat, staring back at her.
You feel damn stupid for not seeing what she’s laid out before you with such clarity.
“You…don’t believe Kaeda’s interest in Az is genuine?” You ask. “I wondered why she was hanging around Windhaven, but I didn’t think…”
“I think she has ulterior motives.” Mor shrugs. “And if Az is in a blinding haze of lust — or even love — it’s not something he’s going to see for himself. He’ll need proof.”
“How could I possibly give him proof of something I’m not even certain about myself?”
“Perhaps you should play Kaeda at her own game. Do some sniffing around her and see what you find out. You’d only be looking out for Az, after all.”
Would you, though? You can’t deny that your feelings, your jealousy, would play a part. You should want, for Azriel’s sake, Kaeda to be genuine, whether your heart would get broken or not. But what you truly want is to show Az that—
That you’re better for him than she ever would be.
You want nothing more from or for him, than to make him happy.
You drag your lower lip between your teeth in thought. “What if it blew up in my face, though? I could just…end up making Az even more mad at me than he already is.”
“Which brings me to my third point. Why are you allowing Az to act like you’ve done anything wrong?”
“I slept with Cassian…”
“Welcome to the club. Tell me, Y/N. are you tied down to anyone?”
“Well, no—”
“Did you and Az agree to only have sexual relations with each other?”
“No—”
“Have you ever sworn off exploring such things with your other friends?”
“No, Mor.”
“Then Azriel has no right to be freezing you out the way he is. Is it messy? Yes. Have you created some tricky drama for yourself? Also yes. But he’s a damn hypocrite if he’s chastising you in one breath and jumping into bed with Kaeda in another.”
“That’s the thing, though.” Your gaze lowers to the table. “He says he hasn’t done anything with Kaeda, and I don’t think he would lie about that. I think…had I slept with anyone outside of our circle, perhaps he wouldn’t have cared. But it being Cassian is just…a bit too close to home for him. Especially given that Az and I were doing things, too.”
The gorgeous blonde rolls her eyes. “So, it’s an ego thing. Give me a break. If he didn’t want you to sleep with anybody else, he should have communicated that. You both should have communicated better.” A soft sigh leaves her. “Listen…Az will sulk for a little while, because that’s just what males do. He clearly has things he needs to work through, and when he has, you should talk. But in the meantime, perhaps you should try to find some more out about Kaeda and her intentions — for no other reason than that Azriel is your closest friend and you’re looking out for him. Perhaps being in Velaris is a blessing in disguise — I’m sure the High Lord could tell you a thing or two about the Fenlaros lot, if you ask nicely.”
So wise, so brilliant, is Mor. A female with such a good head on her shoulders, despite an environment that tries to wreck her.
She just…rationalises things, in a way that you’re not able to. And you hadn’t even considered talking to the High Lord.
You take a slow, pensive draw from your glass as you think on it. And then you’re deciding, “Perhaps I will speak with the High Lord. There’s nothing wrong with showing an interest in a rival camp, after all.”
“No.” Mor flashes a feral grin. “There is not.”
Perhaps it’s selfish, something felt at Azriel’s expense — but setting yourself a little task like this is precisely what you need.
You’ve wondered for a while what the hell Kaeda is doing in Windhaven. You’re determined to find out, one way or another.
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Rhysand is balls deep and utterly lost in the male beneath him.
The noises that fill the room are sinful.
Midnight-kissed moans and panting as breathy and ethereal as a winter-chilled breeze.
This has been a long time coming, and Rhys is just so glad, in that moment, that he finally gets to be inside Zakai, that he thrusts deep and captures him in a full kiss. Zakai growls and grabs his ass, encouraging those thrusts.
Honestly? Rhys fucking needs this pleasure. Never did he think he’d actually be glad to get away to his room at the dormitories, but he needs a godsdamned break. Cassian’s sulking at the cottage has become unbearable since Roza swept Y/N off to Velaris.
If Cass and Az don’t sort their shit out soon, Rhys might just launch them off the peak of the nearest mountain.
Of course, they’d probably fight each other suspended in thin air, instead.
But he banishes those thoughts and gives himself entirely to Zakai, reaching down to fist at the pretty male’s cock. Neither of them will last long. This sex has been too highly anticipated, and it feels too good, and—
And the door is practically kicked in behind them. Azriel strides in as if it’s his fucking room.
“Get out, Az.” Rhys snarls, not faltering.
Az does not, in fact, get out. “Is it true Roza has taken Y/N to Ve—”
“For fuck’s sake.” He pulls out of Zakai with complete reluctance, grabbing clothes to cover them both. Zakai exhales a long sigh and tips his head back.
“Well?” Az demands. “Is it true?”
Rhys yanks some undershorts on. “Three days ago. You’d have found out sooner if you’d just quit your sulking and talk to us.”
“Why has she gone there?”
Zakai clears his throat, awkwardly shucking his clothes on. “Perhaps I should go…”
“No.” Rhys says.
But Az counters it with a dismissive, “Yes.”
The poor male stares between the two of them, and while he may have just been lying beneath the future High Lord, he doesn’t feel like getting in the way of a temperamental shadowsinger.
Rhys releases a yielding breath and grits his teeth. “Fine. I’ll catch up with you later, Zak.”
That’s all it takes for his pretty lover to leave, sex now a distant memory. Azriel shuts the door behind him.
“So?” He rounds on Rhys. “Why is Y/N in Velaris?”
Rhys rolls his eyes at his tone. It’s not exactly any use for Az to be frantic now. Bit too late for that, he thinks.
“Because she needed a break from this place. From you and Cass and Kaeda.”
“I told Y/N that Kaeda and I have not done anything.”
“And maybe you haven’t, Azriel. That’s your business entirely.” He throws himself onto the bed. “But have you stopped for five fucking seconds, amidst your brooding and self-pitying, to consider how it might have made Y/N feel to be the practice run?”
Azriel goes preternaturally still. Doesn’t know what to say.
And that’s fine, Rhys reckons, because he’s nowhere near fucking finished.
“You explored that intimacy with her under the pretence that you were merely refining those skills for another female’s benefit.” He continues. “Whether it was initially Y/N’s idea or not, you should have recognised right away that she deserves better than that. And then you had the absolute fucking audacity to get mad at her for sleeping with Cassian, at the same time she would naturally assume you were sleeping with Kaeda, when you actually have no right to be angry. So what if she slept with Cass? So what, Azriel, that she fell into the arms of somebody who actually made her feel chosen, and not like she was just a stepping stone to a greater pleasure?”
Silence.
Stunned, heavy silence.
This room is far too small for such strong, impassioned words. They hang threateningly in the air, and Azriel feels like he’s watching them fly towards him in slow motion like poison arrows closing in on their target.
And then the shadowsinger croaks, finally, “It’s not—like that. I never wanted it to be like that.”
Rhys shrugs. “I’m not sure you even know what you intended, Az. The whole thing is one big mess. I mean…why haven’t you had sex with Kaeda, if that’s what you were practicing for? Do you even like her?”
Az says nothing.
The lack of an answer is precisely what Rhys is expecting. Even makes his lips kick up into a smile.
He thinks he’s pretty damn wise, does Rhysand.
“I’ll wager,” he goes on, eyeing Az knowingly, “that the practice wasn’t about Kaeda at all. Perhaps it was, the very first time Y/N offered.” He rests his hands behind his head. “But then something happened between the two of you — perhaps a kiss, maybe even some touching, and you were struck down by a realisation that the rest of us saw coming years ago. That what exists between you and Y/N goes beyond friendship. What you have is something special. And getting a little taster of that under the ruse of practice sent you on a downward spiral. So many emotions. So much angst. Suddenly, you were acting irrationally, getting into fights. Not over Kaeda, no, but over Y/N. Seeing her with other males makes you feel sick to your stomach. And that is why you’re so angry with Cassian. Because he had sex with Y/N, and you want her, not Kaeda. You love her.”
Well.
Azriel may as well be standing there stark naked, for all Rhys has stripped him bare.
He feels like his skin has been peeled from his bones and a patchwork of ugly truths lies in its place. He wouldn’t be overly surprised to glance down and see writing covering every inch of his body in bold, alarming ink that reads: I AM IN LOVE WITH Y/N. I AM JEALOUS AND ARROGANT AND SELFISH. I AM SCARED.
He tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. It doesn’t budge. “I never meant to make her feel like that.” He damn near wheezes, the words punching their way out of his lungs.
Rhys softens a little. “We know that, Az. But as long as you try to run from your feelings, you’ll be kicking dirt up at the people behind you.”
“I don’t…don’t know what to do — about anything.”
“You just need to stop trying to fool yourself. You need to make use of your space from Y/N and figure out what, exactly, it is you want, and what, exactly, you’re going to do about it. You need to accept that mistakes have been made all round, but not one of them is unable to be fixed. And you should start by mending things with Cassian.”
On instinct, Az scowls. He may know Rhys is right — and damn him for it, too — but he still can’t help being angry at Cass. The thought of his hands on Y/N—
“Wipe that look off your face, Azriel.” Rhys says drily. “You both know you miss each other, and you’re just as miserable as one another because of it. I’m not saying you should fix it today or even tomorrow — take your time to brood, if you like — but something has to give eventually. And if you won’t fix things for your sakes, do it for mine. Perhaps then I’ll be able to fuck Zakai and actually finish.”
This — these glimmers of wisdom and authority and reason — are like a little window into what Rhysand will one day be like as High Lord of the Night Court.
Azriel is glad of his friendship, his counsel. Even if he’s not quite ready to act on the advice yet.
“It’ll all be alright, Az.” Rhys says, studying him. The shadowsinger looks…lost. “But you should take the time to work things out before Y/N returns to Windhaven. She doesn’t need any more drama, and neither do you.”
Right again, of course.
Az can only manage to clear his throat and nod, before rasping out a quiet, “I will. Thank you.”
Rhys dips his chin. “I do love you, you know. I wouldn’t put sex aside for a conversation with just anyone.”
His answering smile is unconvincing. “I love you, too.”
“And you love Cass. So don’t wait too long to talk to him.”
Azriel inclines his chin. “Sorry for interrupting.”
“I’ll forgive you this time.”
The shadowsinger shoots him one last look that says far more than he can articulate in that moment. And then he’s slipping out of the room.
And as he walks away, he can’t stop his thoughts from venturing to Fenlaros.
To how lost he would be without Rhys — and Cass, too — if he really did leave them behind.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
Roza is so godsdamned beautiful.
You can’t help feeling a little awestruck as you stand behind her, gently combing a brush through her night-black hair.
She stares into the mirror of her dressing table, her face a sheet of serene beauty. Through her nightgown, the swell of her bump shows proudly.
She seems pensive tonight, quieter than usual. Every few seconds, your gaze creeps to her reflection. Curiosity gets the better of you.
“Can I ask you something?” You part the strands of her hair, beginning to tie them into a braid.
Roza’s eyes lift to yours. “Of course, my love.”
It takes you a long moment to work out how, exactly, to diplomatically word what you’re thinking. You imagine it might be a touchy subject.
“…You and the High Lord….” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You’re not…not quite what I expected — together, I mean.”
You’ve never seen a mating bond up close, but you’ve read about them enough to know that they should be intense, passionate, a love that is so altering that it’s almost gut-wrenching. You expected to catch a glimpse of that with Roza and Finadar, to see a bond that you may never have the honour of experiencing yourself, for how rare it supposedly is.
What you didn’t expect was the huge distance that exists between them. Not a single person could miss it.
There’s no desperation to see each other, be in one another’s company. They sleep in their own quarters of the house and only seem to come together for public appearances. The whole thing is…bizarre.
Roza smiles wryly at you in the mirror. “You mean, you didn’t expect the High Lord and I to be as separated as we are?”
“I just figured…with a mating bond…”
“A lot of weight is placed on a mating bond, little dove.” She swivels on the stool to face you properly. “I had the same thought as you, when I was younger. Fin and I tried to love one another, but…the fact of the matter is that mating bonds aren’t always right. He and I are so different, and sometimes that can be a beautiful thing. But in our case, it certainly is not.”
Your eyes fall down to her bump. “But the babe…”
“This babe was conceived on a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive whim that shouldn’t have happened. Not that I regret it.” Her hand strokes over her bump. “But sex and love are two very different things. Fin and I do not love each other. I’m only in Velaris because he only trusts his healer to see me through this pregnancy. We are mates in the loosest definition, but we are not committed to each other. And he has no problem reminding me of that, with all the females he invites to his bed as though I’m not in the same damn house as him. He’s an arrogant, salacious lech — but he’s also the father of my children, and my High Lord, too. So I choose not to confront it, because I don’t care enough to. The babe and I will be back in Windhaven soon enough.”
It makes your heart ache, makes you feel sick, to think that Roza is on the receiving end of such treatment. She deserves better. Deserves the world. Someone who will worship her like the goddess she damn well is.
It terrifies you to think that…that you could just as easily find yourself trapped in such a dire situation.
“What worries you?” Her violet eyes are soft, warm, as she reaches up and presses a hand to your cheek.
You place the hairbrush down, leaning against the dressing table. Your hand finds hers with a sad desperation. “Is love doomed, Roza? Is it real? If a mating bond can’t hold up, what hope do I have—”
“You have all the hope, dove. And as you should. You will love, and you will be loved. You just need to have the courage to face it and all that it comes with. Fin and I are a bad match. But there’s no reason to believe you’ll see the same fate. So just…don’t give up. Be brave and love.”
Tears blur your eyes as you stare down at her. You can’t stop yourself from moving your joined hands, both yours and hers, to rest on her bump. “This babe is the luckiest child in the entire world to have you for their mother.” You whisper. “And I will be honoured, Roza, to help you in any way I can when they’re born.”
She lifts your hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the back of your palm. “And I will be honoured to have you by my side.” She cracks a smile. “Perhaps you can start with making me some ginger tea before bed.”
A soft, breathy laugh leaves you. “Of course.”
Her beautiful smile follows you out of the room and into the dark, empty hallways. You feel strangely at peace tonight, more so than you have for a long while. Most likely thanks to Mor’s pep talk.
But after you’re done in the kitchen, a steaming cup of ginger tea clutched in your hands, a pair of booming male voices reach you from the antechamber. It piques your interest at once.
One voice is certainly that of the High Lord, but the other sounds somewhat familiar, too — like it’s one you’ve heard before, but not enough to place who it belongs to. It’s a dangerous, gruff baritone of a voice that seems almost impossibly deep.
You should mind your business, walk away…but it seems strange for the High Lord to receive a guest so late at night. Seems…clandestine, in nature.
And so you stay light on your feet, inching towards the door and peering through to the giant, opulent antechamber.
And that’s when you see the High Lord leading Tathaln Baralas, Kaeda’s father, in the direction of his study.
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az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes
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corroded-hellfire · 22 days
Note
Hi! I had this idea for the As you wish - series. What if reader finds her first grey hair or maybe spot the first lines on her face and panics because she thinks "Eddie was drawn to me because I was so young, what if he won't be drawn to me anymore?!"
Ah, the signs of aging. As someone who has had a line across her forehead for years now, I felt this lol. Despite what society tries to tell us though, aging is good! Never forget that.
Words: 2.1k
[As You Wish masterlist]
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Waking up before your alarm clock used to be considered a sin to you. It’s not like you were always out partying all night in college when you were younger, it’s just the principle of the thing. How dare your body naturally wake you up just as the sun is making its first appearance over the horizon? The words “early morning” left a sour taste in your mouth, and you’d do whatever you could to get a few extra hours of sleep.
If growing up and becoming a productive member of society didn’t get your body accustomed to waking up earlier than in your teenage years, being a mom of three certainly did. 
The boys are both teenagers themselves now and won’t get up for school willingly, which means you’ve had to learn a few tricks over the years. But one of those tricks was seemingly fading as time ticked by as well. Eliza used to be up before the crack of dawn, her cries or laughter beating the rooster’s crow to the punch. Now that she’s pushing four years old, she often sleeps later than you or Eddie, which means she’s not readily available to bother her brothers into a wakened state. That still leaves Eddie though, and he considers it a joy to annoy his sons awake—payback for all the years they did it to him. 
But this morning you’re awake not only before your alarm, but before anyone else in the house as well. A few emerging beams of sunlight shine through the gaps in your blinds and warm the side of your face as you turn towards it. A content hum leaves your lips as you open your eyes, blinking away the bits of sleep still clinging to the corners. Your heavy head lolls to the other side and comes face to face with your sleeping husband. 
It’s impossible not to smile at his open jaw dotted with scruff, just a hint of drool pooling in the corner. Telling yourself to get up out of bed and not bury your face in his chest and cuddle back into the blankets feels like a Herculean task as you gaze at his handsome face. 
With a sigh, you push yourself up and stretch your arms up over your head. The bright side of being the first one up is that you can go through your morning routine in peace, you suppose. 
The plush carpet is warm on your toes as you slip from bed and pad over to the en suite bathroom. A fierce yawn erupts from your mouth as you turn on the faucet to wash your face. The back of your hands rubs against tired eyes as you wait for the water to heat to an acceptable temperature. The house is quiet and still around you, giving you a sense of calm that you’re sure won’t last once the kids are awake. 
A green washcloth hangs on a hook next to the mirror above your sink and you lather it with your apple blossom-scented soap before rubbing it over your face. The scratch of the cloth on your skin feels good, taking any remnants of the full night’s sleep off and preparing you for the new day. 
You let the wet swatch of fabric fall back down into the sink and grab the matching towel to pat your face dry. As you hang the towel back on the hook, you lean in towards the mirror above the sink and let your eyes roam over your features. Luckily, it seems like that small breakout you had last week has finally cleared up and your chin is blemish free. Your eyes trail farther up and once they get to your forehead your hands grip the side of the sink with enough force to crack the white porcelain in half.
There is a line across your forehead. 
Immediately, your hand goes up and tries to rub it away. Still there. Maybe it’s a smudge on the mirror. All your hand does is smear fingerprints across the glass surface, but the line on your face is still there. 
Gently, you rub the tips of your fingers over the crease in your skin. When you can feel the indent where it used to be firm, an involuntary whimper falls from your lips. Your forefinger traces the line back and forth from the left side of your face to the right. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes and your arms drop down to your sides.
You have a wrinkle. 
The ugly word has the tears spilling over your bottom lids and you squeeze your eyes shut. This is ridiculous, you try to tell yourself. It’s perfectly normal. Aging is a good thing. You force your eyes open and glare at the unwelcome addition to your face. But why does aging mean you’ll start to feel insecure about how your body changes? Wasn’t puberty enough of that bullshit?
A sharp inhale of breath and your hands fly to cover your mouth as a thought occurs to you. What is Eddie going to think? He was drawn to you because of your youth, so what now? Is he going to find this wrinkle gross? Will he find you unappealing now? Are younger, hotter girls going to turn his head?
The thoughts come on too quickly and you're flooded by a wave of panic and grief. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you make a conscious effort not to scrunch your face up, lest you get more wrinkles. 
A small sob wracks your body, and you tighten your hands over your mouth. Part of you knows this is an overreaction, that Eddie won’t care, but the irrational side of you has its claws too deep in you now to let go. 
“Babe?”
Eddie’s groggy voice calls out and his footsteps approach the bathroom door. As if it will keep him from seeing you, you press your back against the bathroom wall and keep your hands firmly clutched over your mouth.
A mop of frizzy bedhead pops in the doorway and Eddie looks in the other direction before swinging his gaze around and spotting you. Instantly, he’s more alert as he takes in your body language. He comes to stand in front of you and places his hands gently on your upper arms.
“Princess, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks. 
Not trusting your voice, you shake your head, hands still covering your mouth.
“What?” Eddie asks. “You’re not okay?” Gently, he pries your fingers from your lips and holds them securely in his own hands. “Hey, come on. Please talk to me.”
Try as you might to find the right words to say, nothing comes to mind. Too much is rattling around your head and the only thing that comes out of your mouth are whines as your sobs pick up. Instinctively, you step in towards Eddie and bury your face in his neck. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to his warm, solid frame. 
“Hey…” Eddie coos as he rubs a large hand up and down your back. It’s a tone you’ve heard him use with Eliza a hundred times before when he’s trying to get her to take a breath and use her words. “Sweetheart, talk to me. Please?”
It takes a lot of your strength to pull back and wipe your eyes and nose off on your arm. The concern in Eddie’s eyes damn near sends you into another fit, but you manage to keep it together. 
“I-I…” I have a wrinkle is what you plan to say. “I’m s-scared.”
Your husband’s eyebrows pinch together as he studies your face. He’ll probably spot the problem on your face on his own if he keeps looking at you like this. 
“Scared? Baby, what are you scared of?”
At his question, a new round of tears does come. You try to ward them off though, shaking your head and wiping your eyes. I’m scared you’re not going to be attracted to me anymore. I’m scared you’re going to think I’m old. I’m scared I’m freaking out and don’t know how to stop it.
None of those words form on your tongue though, so with a shaky hand you reach up and point to the crease above your eyebrows. Eddie’s gaze drifts to where you’re pointing but this only seems to confuse him more.
“What is it? What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asks. When you jab repeatedly at your forehead with your finger, Eddie gently grabs your wrist and lowers your arm back down. “Angel, you’ve gotta talk to me.”
“A-A wrinkle,” you manage to squeak out just above a whisper. 
Eddie frowns and looks at your forehead again. He squints his eyes and shrugs his shoulders.
“I see a faint line. Why does that scare you?”
“Because it means I-I’m old.”
Laughter is the last thing you expect to hear from your husband. But when you look up at him there’s an amused look on his face as he shakes his head. 
“Babe, you’re twenty-nine. If you’re old, then I’m the damn crypt keeper.”
“M’not like when you met me,” you mumble, looking down in embarrassment. 
“No, you’re not,” Eddie says plainly. “And neither am I.” When you look up at him in confusion, Eddie sighs and gently tugs you closer to him. He takes a seat on the closed toilet lid and pulls you into his lap. “Pretty girl, we’ve known each other for about a decade now. Neither of us are the same. I’ve got gray in my beard now and these crow’s feet around my eyes.”
“They’re sexy,” you’re quick to inform him.
“What makes you think I don’t think your changes are sexy?” your husband asks with a raised eyebrow. 
“This isn’t sexy,” you say with a sigh as you rub your hand across your forehead. 
“Is to me,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’ve got more tattoos now. You’ve given birth. Jesus hun, I’m in a different decade than I was back then. We’re not a couple in their twenties and thirties anymore—it’s twenties and forties.”
His fingers gently dig into your sides, making you squeak in laughter and squirm around in his lap. 
“Until I turn thirty in a few months,” you say. Words burn at the back of your throat, and you know you shouldn’t say them. But they need to come out and make themselves known. “You’ll still want me, right? When I’m thirty? With these lines starting?”
Eddie stares at you for a moment, his doe eyes scanning your face. You see the moment something clicks in his mind.
“Wait, don’t tell me that’s what you’re scared of?”
When you still avoid looking him in the eye and remain silent, Eddie lets out a long sigh. 
“There is no line or wrinkle that could make you anything less than the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Not a damn thing in this world could make me not want to be with you. I love you. Always have, always will. Wrinkles or not. Acne or not. Scars, gray hair, injuries, sickness, it doesn’t matter. You’re my girl and that’s all there is to it.”
Emotion swells within your chest and it’s difficult to keep it contained. Hoping to convey what your voice can’t, you lean forward and rest your forehead against Eddie’s. 
“Actually,” Eddie adds softly, “I think wrinkles and gray hair are pretty great things. Because it means we’re growing old with each other. No one else I’d want by my side, to go through this with.”
“I’m so lucky to be your girl,” you manage in a hoarse whisper, trying to quell the tears that build up—now for a different reason. 
A soft chuckle has Eddie’s breath ghosting across your lips.
“It’s absolutely me who is the lucky one, princess. I love you so goddamn much.” 
“I love you too—”
“Mama!”
Little hands beat on the wood of the closed bathroom door. You and your husband share a whispered laugh as you drop your head down to his shoulder. 
“What’s up, sweet pea?” Eddie calls back.
The banging stops and there’s a beat of silence before your daughter replies.
“I called for Mama.”
A snort of laughter leaps out of you at Eliza’s tone. Eddie shakes his head in amusement and lets out an overdramatic sigh.
“See?” He speaks softly to you. “None of us can live without you.” The banging starts up again, a little faster this time. Eddie winces and squeezes one eye shut. “Even for a second, apparently.”
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hotdsworld · 3 months
Text
"Our Tawtute"
Onlyfans!Lo'ak x OnlyFans!Neutral!Reader x Onlyfans!Neteyam
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A/n: it has been on my mind since yesterday just dropping it and running away. I didn't indulge too much into the onlyfans thing BUT I might do part 2 where it's more about that etc and less smut
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Word count: 2,4k
Summary: as you were getting more and more famous on OF, two popular brothers noticed you.
Warnings: 18+!, degradation & praise, oral (Lo and Nete receiving), unprotected sex, penetration (I tried to keep it neutral so there aren't mentions of which one), aged up characters
Translation:
Tìyawn - love
Yawne - beloved
Tawtute - human
The smut begins under divider with moons etc if you wish to scroll straight to that
You were popular thanks to your OF platform, but not as popular as the Sully brothers. Perhaps it was the thrill of them being practically aliens, or their big cocks, or the way they were treating people in their videos. Your content was a little bit different. In the past, you used to post things with your partner but as you broke up, you decided to go solo. The Sully Brothers always had a little human toy to fuck, sometimes a na’vi, but all that you had were toys. Nevertheless, your platform was growing more and more even with you going alone. Your fans have been proposing the collaboration between you and The Sully Brothers for some time now, but you weren't sure if it was something you would want to do. After all, you did such videos only with your partner, not two hot strangers. But as your rank became higher, fans began to propose that match to The Sully Brothers and these two wouldn't let such a prey go.
And what The Sully Brothers want, The Sully Brothers get. Once they heard of you and saw your videos, they needed more. There was something about you that they didn't see in anyone else. Of course, all of the people in their videos were wonderful and pleasant to work with, but you seemed… different. When their manager contacted you, you refused, writing that it's not your kind of thing. The manager tried a couple more times but your answer never changed, that is until The Sully Brothers paid you a little visit. It amused them how shy you were despite being such a slutty little thing before the camera. After hours of talking and negotiating, you agreed to make one video with them, especially after they offered you a month to get to know them. They wanted you to be comfortable, you looked like such a sweet thing… and you did get comfortable. Hanging out with them every day for a month, getting to know them better, learning their routines. The three of you quickly became some sort of friends, and the bond between you was rather developing quickly. You loved spending your time with them, they weren't such mean fuckers as they made it to be on their platform. After all the tests were done to make sure that all of you were healthy, it was time for your collaboration. One of the most surprising things was that they didn't have any staff, the brothers were recording by themselves, setting up microphones and cameras. They wanted the experiences to feel more realistic because it was no surprise that more or less ten people on the set, talking constantly was no fun.
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That day you were very nervous. Performing alone and performing with others was a huge difference, but you wanted to try something new. They eased your nerves a little by using a few jokes, they were bad but calmed you down anyway. After preparing everything, like setting the cameras in different angles, microphones, and lights… it was time to act, or perhaps it would not act at all? Just a natural pleasure.
“You look so pretty, tìyawn” Lo’ak bites your earlobe not so gently.
“You came to real men for good fucking, slut?” Neteyam took pleasure from degradation, and for sure he wouldn't hold back tonight. He planted a soft kiss on your neck. The brothers undressed you, slowly like you were the most fragile thing they got to touch. Whispering into your ears all the filthy things and praises. Your cheeks were flushed, despite knowing them they still were making you all shy and blushing. They were brothers and yet, their approaches weren't the same. Lo’ak liked to go roughly and quickly but he was praising you at the same time, while Neteyam loved to degrade through words but his actions were teasingly slow. Their eyes admired you like you were the finest masterpiece. And to them? You actually were. They laid you down on the huge table, that way they had great access to your mouth and your hole. Lo’ak got behind you, caressing your ass cheeks. He couldn't hold himself back, giving you a few spanks, enjoying your whimpers with a smirk. Neteyam stood in front of you, slowly running his thumb along your lips. He enjoyed how soft they were. “Lick, use those slutty lips for something useful. Do it slowly,” Neteyam demands. You obeyed immediately, giving his tip little licks, tasting his precum. Neteyam caressed your hair, his breath growing heavier. Lo’ak spits between your thighs before moving his hand there.
“Is it your first time, tìyawn? Taking cocks as big as ours? First time taking real cocks? I wonder if your previous partner could even compare,” Lo’ak’s finger teased your hole slowly, making it even wetter thanks to his spit. He knew damn well that it was your first time, but he wanted the viewers to know it too. Neteyam slowly pushed his tip into your mouth, his eyes sparkling as he noticed your own widening. He didn't rush it, letting you adjust to his tip as Lo’ak was stretching your hole with his fingers. You moved your head forward, trying to take more of Neteyam’s dick, you were eager for it, almost hungry.
“Certainly it is. A little greedy whore, trying to take so much despite it being the first time,” Neteyam chuckled as you were trying to wrap your lips around his girth. It was no surprise that he was fucking huge. 
“I'm going to get myself in, yawne” Lo’ak entered you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You whimpered around Neteyam’s length as Lo’ak stretched your hole out. He didn't waste any more time, pounding into you like an animal, when Neteyam was moving his hips gently holding himself back from destroying your throat. Lo’ak was a sweet talker but he was rough during sex, Neteyam was the opposite. 
“You are just a little toy for us to use,” Neteyam ‘reminds’ you as he pushes his cock deeper. Lo’ak chuckled grabbing your hips and putting you a little up, so you were on your hands and knees, yet he didn't stop fucking you, and neither did Neteyam. The older brother smirked, noticing what Lo’ak intended to do, a great shot indeed. They put their hands together above you, creating the fucking Eiffel Tower, looking straight into the camera. Their apartment filled with the undeniable scent of sex and your moans. 
The three of you looked great, drowning in the pleasure. It was that type of chemistry that is usually hard to find. The way you were lying on the table, the same one from their most popular videos. Little whimpering toy but with you, they seemed… more eager. Lo’ak pumping his dick in and out of your tight hole, making you moan around Neteyam’s thick cock. They let you lay back down on your stomach as they noticed your legs shaking.
“Such a tiny human, taking our cocks so well. Do you like it, tìyawn?” Lo’ak taunts, knowing that you couldn't respond with a mouth stuffed full of Neteyam’s cock. 
“Look at their body, they clearly do. Slutty tawtute, wouldn't give up even when their body fails,” Neteyam grunts as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. You choke and moan, making both of them chuckle. Your saliva and Neteyam’s precum dripped down your chin as Neteyam continued to use your mouth. Lo’ak took the camera into his hand, the other hand coming hard across your hip, leaving a red mark. He focused the camera on his cock slamming into you.
“Fuckkkkk, see how easily it goes in? Such a good little toy, we’re proud.”
“You want to show your fans how good The Sully Brothers are fucking you? You want to show them how desperate you are for us?” Neteyam mocks, driving his dick deeper into your mouth. All the questions were rhetorical of course, they knew the answer but teasing you made everything better. Neteyam was becoming rougher than before, you could guess he was close by the way his cock twitched. You hollow your cheeks to make it even more pleasurable as you move your ass back against Lo’ak, to take him even deeper. “Fucking whore, I knew the shyness was just a facade,” Neteyam squeezed your neck tightly as Lo’ak began to spank you, leaving red marks all over your ass. The way you tried to take both of them so bravely but you were just a helpless toy underneath two strong aliens.
“Are you going to come for us, yawne? Such a brave one, I'm so proud. You’re taking me so well,” Lo’ak caressed the red marks on your ass. Then there was Neteyam who squeezed your neck tighter.
“Go on, slut. Cum for us, show us how grateful you are for our alien dicks.” It felt like your soul left your body as the two of them filled you with their cum, almost like the three of you were in sync with releasing. You choked a little, Neteyam released so much cum it was hard to swallow so some of it dripped down your chin. You were sure it would be the end of the video but the brothers seemed to have other plans. “We’re switching, brother. My cock needs to get a taste of that slutty dripping hole,” Neteyam caressed your cheek before going to take Lo’ak’s place. Lo’ak wasn't so eager to leave your heat but he knew that Neteyam wouldn't let this opportunity go. Slowly he moved to the other side of the table.
“How are you feeling, tìyawn? Are you up for another round?” Lo’ak caressed your hair gently, running his fingers through it. You were breathing heavily but the thought of rejecting it didn't ever come through your mind.
“Yes, always… please,” you breathed out, trying to catch your breath.
“Such a good toy, you are doing so good,” Lo’ak kept caressing your hair.
“And you didn't have a threesome before? What are you? Born to be a whore?” Neteyam pushed himself inside you, painfully slowly. His pace was slower than Lo’ak’s but his thrusts were deeper. Lo’ak strokes his cock a few times, teasing his tip against your closed lips. They were slick and swollen from taking care of Neteyam earlier.
“Such soft pretty lips, tìyawn” Lo’ak praises. The contrast between brothers was driving you crazy.
“Pretty and slutty,” Neteyam corrects Lo’ak, pushing in and out of you slowly.
“That too. Ready to take my cock like the little obedient thing that you are?” You moaned in answer, as Neteyam was already rearranging your insides. “Then what are you waiting for? Open up.” You opened your mouth without hesitation. Lo’ak quickly slid his cock inside, testing you but it didn't take him too long to set a punishing pace like he did earlier while fucking you. You focused on breathing through your nose, it wasn't every day that your throat was getting fucked. You were choking and gagging, moaning around him but Lo’ak enjoyed it. It wasn't a bad experience for you either, it was a special occasion to suck a dick like that. At least Neteyam massages your sore ass, bringing you relief. Lo’ak closed his eyes, whimpering already as you were driving him to his second orgasm.
“We will ruin them for any other man, won't we? Little tawtute, trying to play with big men,” Neteyam grunts as his cock hits the best spots deep inside of you. You could feel the coil beginning to form in your stomach as you mewled helplessly, drowning in the pleasure of being used.
“We will. I'm going to cum in this little mouth and you will swallow every single drop, won't you, yawne?” Lo’ak did not give you a chance to answer. Your cheeks were red just like your ass, your body all wet from sweat and cum, but you didn't mind it. You were burning, the brothers were consuming you like the flames. “Move those soft fingers, caress my balls,” Lo’ak let out a shaky breath. His cock sensitive from previous actions. You obeyed even though you could hardly think, your hand moved to caress his balls. Lo’ak was bucking his hips into your mouth, as he was chasing his climax. Neteyam’s fingers dug into your hips, leaving bruises as he held himself back. It was always a little challenge before them, Neteyam didn't want to cum before Lo’ak. Your mewls were turning them on, proving just how much control they had over you, how they were able to turn you into a mindless doll. It didn't feel like an act or just work, perhaps they were that good, this seemed real, or it was real. You forgot about the cameras completely, just focusing on the sensations. You were dangerously close to your edge.
“What an obedient thing,” Neteyam surprised you with some kind of praise.
“I'm going to cum, fuckkk” Lo’ak’s body became stiff as he released himself into your mouth. You struggled to swallow all of it but you were determined to do so. “Mm, I'm so proud, not even a drop wasted,” slowly, he pulled out of your mouth. Neteyam pulled you up immediately, on your hands and knees again, your back arched for him. Lo’ak was caressing your body gently as you were trying to calm your breath down.
“Good tawtute, arch this slutty body for me. Cum before me or you won't cum at all,” the force of his thrusts increased, and you could feel the air being knocked out of your lungs. Lo’ak’s hand intertwined with yours, something that he hasn't done in the videos yet.
“Now we can listen to their pretty moans,” Lo’ak caressed your hand with his thumb. Neteyam rolled his eyes, grabbed your ass, and his finger dug into it. You whimpered, the coil finally snapped and your body trembled as you came hard thanks to his cock.
“That's a good little pet. Doing everything that your masters tell you to do,” he squeezed your ass even more as he reached his peak. You mewl, feeling his cum filling you up. Lo’ak turned the cameras off as Neteyam carried you to the couch. They sat on each of your sides, cleaning you up and giving sweet kisses as you were trying to breathe normally and stop your body from shaking so much.
“You did so well, I'm sure the video will go viral, yawne” Lo’ak caressed your cheek softly.
“Yes, you did well, our tawtute” Neteyam ‘jokes’. Maybe you didn't know, but they were sure that they just found a perfect addition to their platform. THEIR little toy. You belonged to them because they weren't going to let you go.
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angelltheninth · 4 months
Text
Private Dimension of Pleasure
Pairing: Iso x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, power use, cock riding, kissing, enemies to lovers, teasing, masturbation mention, sex toy mention
Word count: 2k
A/N: His power is locking people up in a dimension with him... how could I not write smut with that kind of power?
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One moment you were running towards him, guns blazing, dodging his own bullets and then just as you were about to tackle his smug self to the ground you didn't know where you were. It was a void of some sort, but you couldn't quite move like you wanted. And where was Iso? Also gone.
"Ha, you fell for that? Easiest trick in my playbook." You felt the cold metal of a gun press against the back of your head. "Maybe you're not the rival I thought you were. Sad, any here I thought I finally found someone interesting." His sounded so full of himself you wanted to turn around and beat the shit out of him. If only you could move as you liked, "Don't bother, this is my dimension, you move when I want you to, how fast I want you to."
You clenched your teeth, barely summoning the strength to turn your head and look at him. "Coward. If this is what you need to do to win then you're even more pathetic then I thought. When they talked about a new guy on the team I hoped it was someone better." Your taunts got to him for sure, his eye twitched and his smile faltered for a moment.
Of course he still compared himself to others. He was as you said, the new guy. Still learning the ropes of being an Agent at Valorant.
Iso floated in front of you, his many guns dancing around him, trained on you but the one in his hand was at his side. "Aren't you the same? Isn't that why you're going after the new guy? You wanna prove yourself, same as me."
"Don't flatter yourself Iso. I'm nothing like you." Why the hell was he leaning in so close? Why did he get that little smirk on his lips just now? You'd kill to know what he was thinking right now.
"You remembered my name." His voice was softer then before. "You've been thinking a lot about me haven't you? How scandalous of you." A warmth spread across your face and the tips of your ears, both in anger of his taunting and of what he seemed to be implying about you. Scandalous? He was one to talk.
"Again, you flatter yourself. I have much hotter guys to think about while I'm masturbating." You said that so confidently, like it was an own of some kind.
Iso's grin was wider when he heard that little confession, "Who said anything about masturbating? Get your mind out the gutter woman. I was talking about fighting. But I can't really blame you, people do seem to get crushes on me pretty easily."
As if he sensed your anger he let you surge forward but not for a headbutt like you intended but a very sloppy and angry kiss. He knew it, he could sense how much you wanted him, each time he pulled you in here and teased you and fought you he could sense your lust growing together with your anger. Today he thought he could satisfy both of those at once.
"You ain't as slick as you think." He teased as his thigh slipped in between your legs, "Oh my mistake. You are." You resented yourself for the moan that left your lips when Iso pressed against you. This was supposed to stay a secret from everyone, especially him. You couldn't help it, you wished otherwise but when you'd fight him you began throbbing, burning up, and later in your bed riding whatever dildo you got your pussy onto first to push these lustful thoughts away before your next encounter. "Do you want this? Really want this?" The guns around him vanished, leaving just the two of you in the purple hue of the void.
His voice was soft, just like his fingers which played with your pants but didn't push further. He was aware that in this place he was in charge. He needed you to say it, to know he wasn't reading the signals wrong and making a mistake.
"We'll both regret this if we get found out." You were enemies after all.
"Then it's a good thing this dimension if fully private. Now tell me, do you want this or not. Because in case you can't tell, I really do." You looked down and saw that Iso was cupping his bulge and how it twitched when you looked at it. "If not I'm letting you out of here and taking things into my own hands. Fighting you is fun and all but I think this would get in the way. Plus it's a really easy target."
Sure looks like it. The perfect target for you pussy actually, which was fully protesting at how empty it was right now. "Not a word of this to anyone, you hear me prettyboy. I may not know where you live but I have friends who can find out." You started pulling his zipper down as his hands pushed past your pants and underwear, playing and passing through your folds to circle your pussyhole and make his fingers wet. "Or if you tease me."
"How scary. I better not waste time then." Iso pushed your clothes down and onto the way, same with his own. "Ready?"
Instead of simply spreading your legs you pushed yourself onto him and wrapped them around his shoulders, his jacket digging slightly into your thighs. Iso let out a shaky breath when he felt your pussy rubbing up against his hard cock and up to the tip, "Now I am."
"Someone really wants this. Has it been a while since you had sex?" You got the sense that he wasn't asking to make fun of you but to gauge how fast he can take this. It was sweet considering Iso usually took every opportunity he could to tease you.
"Not since I joined my team. You?" Hopefully he wasn't already seeing anyone. He didn't seem like that kind of guy but who knows, anyone can make a bad judgment of character. Iso pretended to think about it for a good long while, or it might have been a few seconds, time was always wonky in this place, "Iso!"
"Kidding! I've been with a few people but not since I started thinking about you. Which was pretty much right after we first met. So almost as long as you. It's been just me and my hand." The same hand he was now pushing towards you lips, the one that teased you and just before that was pointing a gun at you. "Won't be just the two of us anymore right?"
"If you play your cards right it won't." You rolled your hips against him, trying to make the cock go in but it was tricky at this angle. You could look down but that would require you looking away from his pretty face and you didn't want that either.
Iso laughed at your enthusiasm. He balanced you against him with one hand, the other brushing its fingers over your lips, letting you taste yourself just a little but not pushing in. His cock pushed in though, inch by inch, twitching more with every little bit that was sheathed inside you fully.
"Way better then my hand." You certainly hoped your pussy was better.
"Your hands feel nice though. Surpassingly smooth for someone who wields guns every day." You wouldn't mind feeling his hands on you more often. "As for your cock, hm." You clenched your pussy walls around him, "I can say, much better then my dildos." If he was comparing then so would you, it was only fair that way. "But can it make me come harder is the question."
"You bet this sweet pussy that I can." Unfortunately he couldn't feel your nipples fully through his jacket and yours but he could tell you were arching against him as he started to roll his hips. The weightless state didn't allow for too rough of a thrust but each was just as deep s the last, his cock having the slightest angle and rubbing against your sweet spot perfectly. You pulled and guided him by his hoodie, his soft lips against yours, fitting all too easily. There was no one to hear you moan, just him, but you still felt the need to cover it up.
Iso noticed so he pried your lips apart with his tongue just in time with his thrust, savoring both the sound of his balls clapping against you as well as the sound of your moan.
He knew full well what he was doing, he didn't even mind you nibbling on his tongue, or how you narrowed your eyes at him. You couldn't care that much either when his cock felt so good sliding in and out of you, when his tongue made you go dizzy and his kisses made your lungs burn for air.
You moan into the kiss, sucking on his tongue when he pushes it in both of you lost in your lustful haze, drunk of each other, pulling, gripping, thrusting and riding.
"Feels good doesn't it?" He husks against your lips once the kiss is broken, "You feeling good from my cock?"
"You should be able to tell." You teased as he rolled his hips up again, grunting at the clenching of your wet walls, "But yes Iso, it feels so good. You're a good boy." You didn't even think much of it at first when you said it but the words seemed to strike a cord with him.
"Good? I'm the best one around." And he was determined to prove it right now. By making your pussy come around his cock. He wrapped his arm tighter around you, now pulling your bodies flush against each other, as close as they could get with the clothes still in the way. "Close aren't you? Your pussy's close to coming I can feel it. I'll make you come every time we see each other, so don't go around fucking anyone else okay? You promise?"
He wants you all to himself. You think back to earlier, how you hoped he wasn't seeing anyone, fucking anyone, it's the same, you really are just like him. "Promise I won't let anyone fuck me if you can do it instead."
There's but a single thought in his head right now, to make you come. He's so close, his moves are sloppy at best, his mouth hardly forming words anymore, promises and sweet whatnots for your ears only. His mind is solely focused on you. "I'll fuck you better than anyone. I promise baby. Let's see you come on my cock first, let me feel you even more."
He pumps his hips into you as fast as he can fire bullets, the weightless state no longer posing a problem because as he said, he is in control here. You feel tightness coiling in the pit of your stomach, you come so suddenly and so hard it makes you see white spots, and the hitch of his name making Iso go over the edge too, quickfire shots of cum filling you up.
Iso holds you close as you float there, entangled and breathing heavily into each other's ears. It was supposed to be bad how good this made you feel, how he, an enemy made you feel but there was no denying it after this, not even if you tried your headrest.
Iso holds you close as you float there, entangled and breathing heavily into each other's ears. It was supposed to be bad how good this made you feel, how he, an enemy made you feel but there was no denying it after this, not even if you tried your headrest.
"Don't be late for the next mission okay? I want as much time with you as possible." You didn't even notice when he pulled out and set your clothes back in place. Must be a trick of his powers, wouldn't be the first time they caught you so off guard. "Make sure to land on your legs, not your face."
Precious seconds were all you had time for, the last thing you felt was his lips kissing yours before you found yourself falling onto the concrete floor where you tried to tackle him before. His cocky laughter echoed in your ears, making you remember why you hated him in the first place. If it weren't for the pleasant throbbing between your legs you'd hate him even more.
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xo-cod · 4 months
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dad simon fluff because i'm sad. rushed and ooc ‼️
might be confusing to read because i didn't name the baby, i tried 🥲
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it was early morning, too early for his liking as simon yawned before he spread the butter across the toast delicately. slicing up some fruits alongside it. it had been seven whole months since you both welcomed your pride and joy, seven whole months of a world he didn't think was possible to ever receive in this life. how he adored you and how he cherished his baby so deeply to his heart, in some ways it makes up for all the pain he suffered in his past to be able to have his two greatest gifts beside him every day.
he finished plating up, walking back to the living room and there his infant stood, big brown eyes gazing at the tv with delight. her eyes were one of the first thing he noticed when she had been born, they were one of the features that she had taken identically like his. and they looked absolutely gorgeous on her.
he never thought his life would turn out this way, spending the majority of his youth and his adulthood in the taskforce. at some point he grew to accept that the life price had offered him was the only one he would ever receive, he got used to the idea that perhaps love wasn't something everyone got to experience in this world. but then you came along and you gave him the greatest gift he could've ever possibly recieved, turning his world on its axis for the better.
a foreign feeling to simon whose life had been dominated nothing but by violence and loss.
"c'mere munchkin, breakfast" the soldier in him calling it out like a command only his voice was gentle, fatherly, as he picked her up securely before delicately placing her in her high chair.
and much like his features, his baby seemed to take his attitude too.
she huffed and squirmed on the chair, her tiny face crumpled in a frown having been taken away from her dear cartoons and made to eat.
"is this little girl trying to be stubborn, eh?" simon narrowed his eyes but his face showed pure amusement, his face leaning down to kiss her temple softly. she immediately relaxed and babbled softly while he smiled, sitting on the chair next to her as he fed her the food.
simon was still learning everyday what it meant to be a father, he promised himself he'd never turn out to be the way his own dad was. he vowed never to do that to you or his child. never to become the way his father had been.
but he had barely finished giving her the breakfast before she gasped excitedly at the cartoon once more, baby babbles falling from her lips. he watched, resisting the urge to coo and chuckle at her state. and then he watched as she mimicked the tv, pretending to be dinosaur while she blew raspberries at him.
it had been her new thing now and simon felt pure joy tugging at his heart, wishing forever she'd stay this way so he could protect her from everything. how innocent and carefree she was here in this moment, how time was cruel because he could already feel it escape and slip through his fingers. pretty soon she'd be turning a year old and it felt like just yesterday he was bringing her and you back home from the hospital
"now what do little dinosaurs say?" simon entertained her playfully, helping her down while she stomped around in her onesie looking at him with pure mischief.
"you have to roar at me for it to work, yeah?" he playfully growled back as he nuzzled his face up against hers and he started to gently tickle her on her side. she collapsed into shrieks of laughter, only deepening the smile on his lips as he laughed along with her. he watched her small arms flail about, trying to make her voice sound like the effects on tv but failing miserably
and how his heart ached in his chest as a result from it. he hoped she would never lose this spark, this streak of mischief, being so full of life and love. she was already growing much too fast for his liking but he was so excited for who she'd be, she was his mini after all
he heard your soft gasp and then a gentle laugh, turning back to look at you with a look of fondness at your arrival. you'd never looked better to him, half asleep and still as beautiful as the day he had the pleasure of looking upon you for the first time
"did you hear that, lovie?" simon grinned, looking back at you before he kissed his baby's small cheek as he set her down on the floor once more. he gently faced her towards you, helping her walk across while you made your way to the couch
"show mama how you roar like a scary little dinosaur" simon encouraged with a playful tone, poking her side softly. you followed his gaze and looked down at the baby who was roaring just as she had been before she hiccuped and stumbled on the floor. her soft grumbles fell from her lips which prompted the both of you to chuckle gently at your baby. she looked close to having a tantrum but simon was well acquainted with all her little moods, distracting her quickly
"oh no, my poor little dinosaur. whatever will it do now?" he feigned sadness which caused the infant to burst into giggles, almost tripping over towards his big arms as he caught her and held her close to his chest. his own gentle laughter mixing in with hers and you could only watch with a tenderness in your heart, always hoping deep down in your heart your little family would always remain this happy.
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obae-me · 4 months
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A sensation caused you to stir, the garbled plotline to your dream fizzling out of your head as soon as your eyes opened. Two grey-ish eyes with muddied hues stared down at you from beneath white fringe, hand outstretched, fingers brushing over your forehead as he leaned over the back of the couch. You were still getting...used to this, to his presence. It was unusual seeing him taking something so seriously, a firm frown on his face.
Solomon sighed. "I thought I told you to not sleep on the couch like that. You could catch a cold."
"I...just drifted..." You tried to explain, ready to roll your eyes. You weren't nearly weak enough to get sick taking a nap on the couch. As a human himself, you'd think he would agree with your resilience, but alas...
"You're working yourself too hard," he concluded, shaking his head a bit, a sternness to his words you'd only learned he was capable of after you'd become his apprentice. It only seemed to grow ten-fold after you started living together in Cocytus Hall.
"Correction," you interjected, catching him at an intake of breath, ready to lecture you further. "The brothers are working me too hard. And then of course Barbatos and Diavolo request to see me at the castle, and then Simeon and Luke always like to include me in their own plans. And RAD and..." A heavy sigh left your lungs. They were always rowdy, but something in the air was stirring up more trouble than usual.
A smile seemed to creep it's way across Solomon's face. The kind of smile that you had learned to connect to his irritation. Not to be confused with his mischievous smirk, which appeared very similar. A man of many smiles, this one. "Well, I'm sure they all can go without you for one evening." His D.D.D. was already in his hand, as if he was already about to send a message to every individual in the Devildom that you were not to be disturbed.
There was the subtle hint of a pout on his lips, which caused you to chuckle a bit. "Are you jealous?"
Called out but not shaken, he put his phone back in his pocket before leaning further over the couch cushions, his head hovering a few feet above yours. "Is it such a crime to want to keep you home more?" He sighed wistfully and dramatically. "I only did come all the way through space and time to save you." He noticed the look on your face at the reminder of just how out of your depth you both were. Suddenly, the backs of his fingers touched your cheek. "It gets lonely here when you're gone..." Solomon muttered. "I feel this...coldness, this emptiness. And when I think about it, I can only imagine how you feel... coming back to sleep in a house that's not your home. Missing the people you love."
"Solomon..."
"I promise you, I'll make things okay. And in the meantime, I'll make Cocytus Hall a place you can look forward to coming back to." A single finger twirled around a small strand of your hair. "So please don't stay away for too long." His face hovered lower. "And spend time with me more often?" The inflection at the end was questioning, almost pleading. He looked in your eyes for the go-ahead to move forward, but you took the chance for him. Your lips both brushed together in a tender kiss, the top-half of his body fully bent over the couch. You imagined in a bit of humor one of his legs bending up like in silly rom-com movies. When he pulled apart, he had a satisfied look on his face, but a new blush to accompany it. "And no more napping on the couch, otherwise I'll have to carry you to bed next time."
"Sure you will, old man."
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bakugoushotwife · 6 months
Text
kinktober day thirteen: somnophilia kink
>>> y'all i worked breeding into the plot again officer take me away!! i just love soft and domestic sho, and it also totally feels like something he'd love!!
>>> starring: shouto todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: fingering, oral (fem receiving) somno, breeding, reader hates working lmfao, creampie obviously, mating press. >>> wc: 2.6k >>> event masterlist
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 shouto loves relaxing. he was sure this was something everyone enjoyed, until he met you. you seemed to stay occupied at all times, delving into hobby after hobby to keep yourself busy. being professional heroes was draining enough, he thought, so why were you indulging in running clubs and extra gym sessions? why did you spend more time learning new recipes and anxiously cleaning the house these days than lounging in bed with him watching tv like you used to? of course, his first assumption is that he has done something to push you away or upset you, as he’s prone to doing. he’s naturally aloof and a bit distant, all things he tries to push past to connect to you, the only person who makes him feel warmth were his coldness usually lies. you know how he is, how he can come off a bit frigid and almost mean without thinking about it, or how he struggles to read your body language and cues—always missing the hints you throw him. you’re used to it by now, far more accommodating than a grown man like him deserves, so he figures this time he needs to get to the bottom of this and make it up to you and prove he can be in tune with your emotions too. 
you had grown restless, but it wasn’t all your husband’s fault. you felt so out of place these days, feeling awkward in your own role in life. you enjoy being a hero some days, other days you can hardly motivate yourself to get out of bed. work had become monotonous and meaningless, the streets of japan were safer than they had been in years past, so most of your days were spent patrolling and training if they weren’t consumed in paper work. you felt stagnant, and things were only complicated further by your conflicting emotions. all your friends from school were retired to spend time with their families or in the process of retiring to go home and take care of their parents or kids—and then there was you. a family would be…perfect, but it was a touchy subject with shouto and you didn’t want to press the matter just because you needed a change in life. so yes, you started tinkering around with hobbies to try and get your mind off of things, knowing you had accepted the possibility of not having children when you agreed to be his misses todoroki. he hadn’t taken the possibility completely off  the table, but you knew he wanted to broach the subject whenever he was ready. so you started using the home gym a little more, picking up books your girlfriends recommended, even working on your cooking skills all in an effort to feel something other than bored.
you didn’t associate your issues with shouto, still acting as normal as possible in other regards other than your drifting away. you really didn’t think he’d notice given the lack of emotional fluency he had, hoping if you could replace the void growing within you that everything would go back to normal and you could be as happy as you were five or ten years ago. but he had noticed, of course. he missed his wife alongside him, but it wasn’t his fault that he had trauma associated with family and was unsure of himself as a father. it certainly wasn’t his fault that when you got married right out of high school you hadn’t cared—knowing that you love him either way. this is still true, of course, but back then you hadn’t imagined  you’d feel this way, this tired of the life you worked so hard for. so ready for the next chapter, especially as ochako welcomes baby midoriya number two and you’re left in charge of the elder brother at the hospital. 
the little boy was only about four or so, absolutely adorable and the image of his father. he was a giggly kid, clinging to his “auntie” with excitement to meet his baby brother or sister. ochako called as soon as she was sure she was in labor, and you dropped everything to go support your closest friend, not that you needed an excuse to leave work early anyway. shouto was still working, of course, as a top five hero he was often kept busy. but that left you to wrangle the toddler on your own. it was way easier than you expected, even with the energetic little boy bouncing all over the waiting room waiting for his dad to come get him. he still conversed with you and ate his lunch like a good boy—though that’s because his parents were so good at raising him, but what would you expect from them? 
all the day proved to you was that you weren’t just making up solutions to your problems, having a family really is what you want. but still, you love your husband more than this want, so you’ll double down on your hobbies until you find something that sticks. 
he reads your texts over and over, waiting on you to get back from the hospital. he had set up a date, truly romantic when he tries to be, and when bakugou answers his calls. following his advice, he had your favorite dinner made and the dining room table was intimately set. ochako had her second baby, and that threw a minor wrench in his plans even lthough he was overjoyed for them, and for you for being their dependable friend in that moment. he sits at the table, all the food keeping warm in the oven as the wax of the candles starts to wane. he had flowers, wine, all the things he knew to try and connect with you and get to the center of your sleepless nights. 
when you walk in, he stands, smiling sheepishly. you smile back, though it doesn’t reach the entirety of your eyes. then you notice he’s guarding the table, and you creep closer. “hey, honey.” 
“welcome home, sweetheart.” he nods, stepping aside to show you the lovely dinner scene just for you. your heart melts a little at his effort, knowing it was always a great show of his love to do something like this, much preferring cuddle sessions and shared showers over grand displays of affection. 
“aw, shou.” you pout, giving him a big hug, “this is so pretty, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you giggle like everything is normal. he hums in thought, slender arms holding your waist as he stews over what to say. 
“you’ve been distant as of late.” he says without a trace of malice or disappointment. his words catch you by surprise–he did notice. he lets you go, pulling out your chair and tilting his head for you to sit. “why?” 
you clear your throat and sit, any charade you wanted to drum up crumbling in your brain. you can’t lie to him, but how could you approach this without feeling like you’re betraying his trust and wishes. you sigh. “i… i’ve just been trying to find new hobbies.” 
“you’re hardly sleeping, and i feel like i never see you anymore.” he frowns, making his way to the oven to retrieve the dinner the chef made. “what is it really, sweetheart? do you feel as if you cannot talk to me? is it something i’ve done?”  
you chew the inside of your lip as he assembles food on your plate. “i don’t enjoy hero life anymore. i’m ready for the next chapter, to feel important for other reasons.” you reply, not wanting to make him at fault for your whirlwind feelings as of late. 
he takes in what you say, smart enough to connect some dots. the picture you sent him of you holding baby midoriya in your arms and big brother proudly sitting on your lap was the happiest you’ve looked in some time. “the next chapter…as in, motherhood?” 
you look up at him, studying his mismatched eyes for a hint of how he feels. you sigh, “i know, i know. i guess that’s why i’ve been a little withdrawn…i feel bad about it, i know what you want.” you chuckle sadly, sipping at the wine provided. “really, i’m trying to get over it, i guess. maybe we could get a dog?” 
now he was disappointed. not in your desires, but that you put his possible feelings above your actual ones without ever speaking to him about it. just like you, he had changed as well. he wasn’t the same unsure eighteen year old he was when you married him, and though he still held trauma from his childhood, he had long accepted the concept of being a father since you were by his side. he could do anything if he was with you. he cuts into the meal and gives you a sympathetic glance. 
“you should have told me. a family…i think i’m ready for that, if you’re saying you’re ready to stay home in that way.” he hums, knowing you wouldn’t put yourself in harm’s way after becoming a mother. you gape at him, replaying his words over in your head. 
“wh–i don’t want you to do it just for me.” you double down, blindsided by his revelation. had you really put yourself through all of this for nothing? 
“i would do anything for you.” he replies instantly, and he meant that with no restrictions. “but i had considered it again around the time izuku welcomed his first.” 
“meaning you were ready four years ago?!” you almost cry out just from the shock alone, and he chuckles softly. 
“not ready to have one then, but i knew i would want some eventually. now is a good time. we’re stable. you made me nervous.” he sips at his wine, eating his food nonchalantly. 
“i made you nervous? i–” you sputter, still grappling with the fact that shouto was more than willing to try for a baby. 
“i thought i messed up, you were drifting from me. i wish i had known all you wanted was a child.” he hums thoughtfully, a full plan coming together in his head to comfort both of you. “and you haven’t been getting enough sleep for weeks, so i’ll make sure you get both tonight.” 
you took that to mean that he’ll fuck you to sleep, another thing he’s prone to do at times. so you shower and meet him in bed, trying to repress your giddiness. you didn’t notice the devious smirk your husband gave you as you sink into his arms. he pulls the blankets over you both, leaning in to give you the routine kisses before bed, and then he turns over like he’s going to sleep. 
you look at the ceiling in the dark with confusion. did he forget or change his mind? 
“you have to go to sleep before i’ll give you that child, sweetheart.” he speaks into the night, making your heart pound with a mix of frustration and intrigue and warmth at how he cares for you, as worked up as you were for him now, you groan and turn over. your brain is quiet as it’s your heart that races for once, and eventually you’re able to drift to sleep. 
he waits a few hours to make sure you’re good and asleep, his whole plan would be ruined if he woke you up. shouto loves you more than anything, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was worried. you had to be well rested, especially if you hoped to give him a baby after all. so only when he hears your quiet snores and deep breathing does he scoot closer, gently positioning you on your back. you dressed in a little nightgown in anticipation of him anyhow, so it was easy for him to locate your waiting bundle of nerves. he rubs you carefully, drawing small circles over your hood as you squirm the slightest bit beside him. he slides his fingers down to the familiar hole beneath, nodding at the feeling of slick appearing, your sweet body was responding to him. he crawls between your legs and carefully pushes your nightgown up over your chest, completely bewitched at the sight of your nipples perking up and goosebumps covering your perfect body. 
he thinks it’s almost ridiculous to think he wouldn’t want children with you. you’ve been in his life since his ua days and no one knew him like you did. you were someone so clearly meant to be a mother, it would be a crime not to give you the family you deserve. he easily parts your thighs, massaging and kneading the thickness he finds there as he lowers his face to your slick cunt. he’s always so gentle, but no time more than now as he hopes to remedy all your problems in one fell swoop like a good husband should. he laps at your center, angular nose bumping against the sensitive clit nestled above until he can hear your breathing change. he didn’t think he’d like it this much, but knowing that your body responds to him even subconsciously has his dick growing in his pants. you taste just as good as usual, growing wetter against his face with every passing second. he slides his fingers in, needing to know when you came. you spasm around the digits as his mouth focuses your swollen clit, and he knows you won���t take much longer. he may need his time understanding emotions and the like, but he knew your body like he knew his own. a few more flicks of his tongue over your nub and pumps of his fingers tickling your insides has you unraveling, and even in your sleep you look majestic cumming on his face. 
he shoves himself out of his boxers, admiring the way you still jerk when he presses his his fingers to your sensitivity. he draws your thighs around his slender hips, angling his pretty cock to your folds. he nuzzles the length along your folds to coat himself despite the pre oozing from his pink tip, taking a second to enjoy that sight in and of itself. then he sheaths himself, careful not to hiss too loud. you feel amazing, clenching him so tight even in the r.e.m stages of sleep, it’s almost too much for him to process. this was the first attempt at a baby, a family he never imagined himself having until he married and matured with you. it’s intoxicating, really, the way he rocks his way into your waiting pussy, silky walls guiding him in and out without any resistance. he has to bite down on his lip not to grunt and moan at how you feel, promising himself that he’d stay quiet and fill you to the brim. he pushes your legs to your chest, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. you only pant softly as he draws in and out of you, figuring this deep angle would be the best for his seed. 
all you did was follow his orders, getting the rest he demanded in exchange for his cum, even though he really won in the end. getting you to sleep, getting to see your body recognize and beg for him, getting to shove his cock deep and impress himself on your womb was more than a fair trade. a soft grunt slips past his lips as his hips stutter. his balls feel unimaginably heavy and then they don’t, his heavy load being fucked even deeper by the determined man you married. even when his warmth pools around his own dick as it goes soft inside you, he doesn’t quit, rolling his hips until he’s too sensitive to continue. 
he’s the one that doesn’t get any sleep that night, watching you sleep with his seed tucked in you only inspired him to take breaks and keep pumping you full, resigning himself to rest hours later  when he can’t possibly cum anymore.
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Text
𓁹Let Me Breed You𓁹
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──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────
-You help the Adaptus from dying in the snow and in return he wants to make you his mate-
Yandere!Xiao x afab reader
⚠Warnings⚠:Non-Con, force breeding, breeding kink, predator and prey dynamics, feral Xiao, injured Xiao, Blood, Yandere themes.
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It was a cold morning in Liyue, snow scattered the ground of the region as most chose to stay home and enjoy the snow day, however you couldnt, you're a studying nurse who needed to test out some herbs and well these special herbs you're looking for only grow in the cold areas, so hoping to avoid a trip to Dragonspine with this newfound snow day you hoped to find the herb. The weather had turned for the worst, becoming even more bitter and cold, it made you feel like you were being eaten alive even if it wasn't all that bad. Just as you're about to give up your search you noticed something in the distance, squinting you realized it's... a person! They're laying in the snow, unmoving.
You quickly made your way to them to see it was the famous Adaptus Xiao, he was bloodied and unconscious.
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Quickly you reached down to feel his neck, faint but he still had a pulse. So you used all your strength to pick up the Adeptus and carry him to your cabin nearby, tending to his wounds, luckily with him not being human he would heal rather fast with the help of your care.
After a few days of treatment and healing you had healed all of his injuries, thankfully not enough to leave permanent scars or be any trouble, but he will get better now, hopefully.
That's how it all started, how the lonely Adaptus Xiao found a new fascination, before now he didn't really have any relationships, any care for humans other then his usual duty to protect them. But then you came along and everything changed, you brought him joy when nothing else could. You helped him become what he wants and wanted is to find love again, he wants someone to take care of him, someone to treat his wounds and tell him everything will be okay. It's like there was never anything wrong with him, even when he didn't want to accept these feelings, he knew they where true.
Of course after a few months you suggested he should probably get back to his usual dutys now that he's healed but to come back occasionally to chat, it's true he was fine now but.. he didn't want to leave, he didn't want to be away for even a moment but complied for now, these strange feelings only becoming more complicated for the poor Adapti as he's trying to figure them out.
Obsession, a simple word that his once innocent love became, even with his duties he made time to watch over you, stalking from a distance and keeping himself hidden. He didn't know what to say to you, even with these feelings he was still very socially awkward so he opted to just watch for now.
But you never notice, no one did because he's very good at staying inconspicuous, and you never notice him because he can always blend into the background, especially when he needs to.
And thats how things continue, for a while, over a span of a year he would watch you become the nurse you wanted to be, getting your license. However that's a problem, you wanted to be a travelling nurse, he couldn't have you leaving, he already killed so many men who attempted to swoon you, sent you so many gifts that seemed strange for toy. Most being parts of the enemies he killed that day, to show he could fight for you, sometimes being food, to show he can provide for you and even once the head of a guy that was being overly flirty to you, to show he can protect you. However he never put who sent the presents, he assumed you would know, unknowingly you're freaking out from such strange gifts.
However now isn't the time for him to send gifts, he has to act. Though with his now clouded judgement and twisted thinking he learned humans don't generally leave partners if they have offsprings, he could do that, then you wouldn't leave, you couldn't.
So he decided a gentle approach first, appeared before your home for the first time in over a year since you parted ways, well as far as you knew. Of course not knowing he was responsible for all the strange occurrences around you, you where relieved to see him, even hugging him.
"Xiao! I'm so glad you're back!" You felt so protected with him around, afraid of the stalker you knew Xiao could protect you.
His face reddening some as he hesitated but held you close, almost not letting go. You let him in as you spoke, at first it was of simple things, about what has been up to what you been doing and so on. It seemed pleasant until he out of the blue tackled you to your futon, blushing hard as you looked up at him "X-Xiao whats-"
"Let me breed you"
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a simple demand to him yet such a strong one for you, he just shows up after a year demanding such.. a huge thing.
"Xiao! Y-You can't just ask someone that-"
"Why? I've shown my love, I've shown my capabilities, just submit to me like a good mate won't you? " His eyes no longer held the same shy sweet look but rather an empty coldness you could only describe as pure lust. He was staring at you, waiting for you to respond to him. He looked hungry, almost predatory, yet you struggled against him, you even managed to push him off and run for the door, escaping out while he was confused at first but took it as a game of predator and prey, assuming you wanted him to catch you first.
He was soon chasing you outside your house with his mask on, you ran as fast as you could, you ended up hiding in a small cave area. Breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath, it was all so clear, he was the one doing all this, it made sense, he would be the only one able to pull it all off.
You needed to get help, to find someone, maybe even get Zhongli to hel-
"Found you" his voice spoke from behind you, before you could react he already had you pinned down onto the ground, panting from your sudden exertion. You couldn't move, you were stuck as much by fear as by his hold on you. "Xiao please-"
"Please what?" His eyes held no warmth anymore as he leaned in to whisper "Will you agree to let me mate you? To make us one forever?"
You shook your head as your heart sank to the ground, tears forming in the corner of your eyes from your fear. "No."
He froze for a moment before, he looked hurt for a second but brushed it aside. "Don't worry, you'll learn to love me as I am eventually, right?" His eyes held a cold look yet he didn't need your response, he would make you love him.
He held your wrists above your head with one hand as he kissed you harshly, his lips where cold as his other hand felt your clothes body, as if to admire how well you looked in your outfit before ripping it from you. You screamed as he did so, unable to stop yourself as his lips moved to attack your exposed body, biting and kissing every part of your body as you writhed against him, he gripped you harder and rougher each second as he devoured you with his mouth and teeth. You soon felt two of his fingers shove themselves into your hole, stretching and preparing you, you closed your eyes and cried out in pain as you felt his finger stretch inside of you. A loud cry left your mouth as you felt the pain, your eyes wide open as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.
Suddenly he pulled out, leaving you gasping as the feeling of emptiness began to take over your whole body. You hated how your body betrayed you so, reacting to his touches like this. Before long you felt his cock slam into you, forcing himself further inside you making sure to keep most of his weight against you to keep you from wiggling away. Soon you saw stars as he slammed into you, his thrusts never failing to push himself as deep as he could, letting out animalistic growls as held you close to him, feeling his breath hitch some, his cock twitching inside as he continues his harsh pace. The next sound you heard was your own scream as his cum filled your womb and poured over your sensitive opening and out your body, coating you both in sticky white fluid and the smell was sickeningly sweet. As his cum dripped down you felt so tired, so exhausted. Barely able to keep your eyes open as he looked down at you, seemingly proud of the mess he made of you. "this will do nicely, there shouldn't be any reason you wouldn't bare my offspring" laying along side you on the cold ground, huddling you close to him. "I promise you I will always protect you and give you everything you crave" as he nuzzled your neck before finally falling asleep in your arms.
You remained silent as you felt your consciousness slip, the last thing you saw before you succumbed to sleep was the warm body next to yours holding you close as his breathing calmed and eventually slowed down until it turned quiet.
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tarjapearce · 7 months
Note
soccer family
how did miguel propose 👀💍
The serious questions yo ❤️✨
Hope you like 🥹✨
Time and life were funny. Sometimes funny in the good kind of way, sometimes in the oddest sorts. If someone would have told Miguel those three years ago, in that evening at Peter's carneada that he would meet his future wife, he'd surely would've just rolled his precious mahogany eyes at cuss in spanish at whoever speaking such nonsense.
He wasn't in the look for someone, yet there you were, his serendipity. Coming into his life like an unforgiving hurricane of things and emotions he had never had the time nor the interest in experiencing at their fullest.
Yet, there you were.
Blatant, not giving two shits on his scary nature, fascinated by him through and through and brazen for making a move. That had surely sealed the deal for him.
He wasn't one for backing away from difficulties, he knew much the challenge he represented to others. And still, you did not only pass it with flying colors, but had actually enjoyed it. Enjoyed him; and in all truth, he enjoyed you too.
Enjoyed the push and pull you offered, the demented moments that certainly earned his brain another wrinkle since he was learning so much from you. Enjoyed your attention and how willingly you'd bask him into it. You were his nepenthe.
How gentle and patient you were with him, when everyone expected so much out of him. Of course he was a genius, or else he wouldn't be into the Lab's head division back in Alchemax. But the way you made him experience things felt surreal, and the feeling increased ten times fold when you shared your first kiss.
The way your lips had tasted and devoured each other was engraved into his core memories. The way you both had explored and shared your emotions was exciting, thrilling yet oh so scary for him.
He wasn't one used to be taken care of. He was the caretaker. A self imposed role he always seemed invested in. But your little ways of weaving into his heart and mind showed him a new perspective of the world he often ignored.
He'd never forget how gentle and careful your tiny fingers were, when helping him patching up in that dirty soccer game. How shameless you were enjoying his reactions. How gorgeous you looked when your eyes wrinkled when laughing your ass off at his suffering. Cruel, but so so hypnotizing.
You'd soon become his wonderwall. His obsession and the only reason he'd go to social gatherings really. If you were there, everything was as it should be. Wonderful, the world would keep spinning normally, but in the few times your absence said present, he'd go home early. Bored out of his mind, the rest was too simple and unworthy of his attention.
Of course, women threw themselves at him. Appearance wasn't something he indulged too much neither care. He was aware of his looks, specially on his little pair of abnormal fangs you loved to feel, for whatever reasons.
"I just do." You'd tell him. And that was more than enough motive to stop worrying over them. You loved them. You loved him.
Every bit of his unwanted self, you made sure he'd know how much you enjoyed it, how much you cherished that certain part he had grown uncomfortable with through his younger years and he'd do the same for you.
After you had shared your bodies, there was no turning back for him. He gave everything of himself into you. His flesh, his scent, his energy and love to you. Something so raw yet pure that turned you into his inspiration, his muse.
You always strived to be better, for yourself mostly.
"How can one be the best version of oneself if we don't grow ourselves as individuals? I want you to have the best of me."
You'd shared in between giggles and drunken thoughts.
He adored your drunk self but would never admit it out loud. You'd come up with the most random yet brain eater questions you could imagine.
He'd fear that day that nearly lost you completely over his stupid pride. A fight ignited by your family. A reason to rarely and never visit them.
He loved your mind. And as months passed on you both, he learned how to love your flaws as well.
And now, three years after, you had given him one of his most precious gifts. His firstborn. His daughter. His child. The result of his unbridled love towards you.
You were his. But of course you had no ways to prove it to the world.
He'd spend hours if possible, watching you through loving yet stoic eyes, feed his little bundle of love, that was overjoyed whenever he held her.
A little Gabriella that was now deep asleep into her crib, in her own room, under his roof. Of course you'd move in with him when Gabi was born. It was the right thing to you.
Six months had passed since her birth, and three years with six months had passed since he met you.
You crawled under the sheets, quanked, yet with the little bits of energy you had left, curled into his chest. Seeking his blanketing warmth. His chest your safe space.
"Took me longer this time to make her fall asleep"
"Yeah. Maybe we should take her to the doctor."
His brows knitted together briefly before kissing your forehead.
"I'm pretty sure she'll be fine."
Silence crawled on you both as you just relished into each other's company. His heartbeat kept pounding in his ears.
The past year and a half had gone through but a certain question was always present. Why hadn't he ask you sooner? It didn't matter.
You remained at his side. So ever loyal, so brave, so rident and brisk. You were exactly what the hypothetical cupid delivered him after his secret longings.
"Mi reina?" (My queen)
An endearing term he only used when discussing serious matters. Despite the exhaustion taking your body hostage, you inquired him with a small and sleepy 'Hm?'
"Would you marry me?"
Eyes looked up at him, a mix of surprise and anger. Surprise that he'd ask such thing out of the blue and anger for the question to be so... powerful and simple that left you speechless. And still, you couldn't help but chuckle out of nervousness.
"It's not a laughing matter corazón. I mean it. Would you marry me?"
You felt your left ring finger being adorned with a golden band that against all odds was perfect in your finger. Like he had forseen this for quite the time.
But it also made sense. All those little moments of him touching and examining your hands resumed into this moment.
"Of course I wanna marry you, tontito" (dummy)
He chuckled as he caressed your hair in his own self grounding and reassuring touch.
"Good. Good."
"Te amo."
His heart wasn't raging anymore, but soaring into this quiet and maddening joy. You had said yes. The words he so yearned for you to say , finally spoken to his heart.
"También te amo, preciosa."
Your own heart soared in bliss at the words you had been secretly practicing over and over. You no longer had to practice, since one of your secret and wildest dreams had came true.
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fatuismooches · 5 months
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a lesson in betrayal.
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There had been a new person residing around the village for a while, and Kabukimono had come to learn his name was Escher. He was a mechanic from Fontaine, and apparently, he had come to Tatarasuna to do something with the Mikage Furnace. It seemed that he was helping to make it better and more efficient. The puppet wasn’t too sure of the exact details.
For some reason though, you didn’t like Escher, something he didn’t understand. Kabukimono had even overheard you whispering to Niwa about the mechanic. He wasn’t sure why, the man seemed like a nice guy! The Fontainian would always somehow spot him from afar and try to strike up a conversation. But you would always snatch him away before he could get near. You didn’t like the way he smiled, you said. Although Kabukimono couldn’t quite understand fully, he… did at the same time. Escher had some kind of… eerie aura to him. The puppet couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Regardless, Kabukimono didn’t care too much anyway. The mechanic wasn’t someone he was interested in, and he wanted to respect your wishes. If someone as intelligent as you said to avoid him, then he probably should. So, he didn’t think about Escher for a long time, much more content with enjoying life with you.
But recently, things hadn’t been as nice lately. The furnace was not working as it should be. It was spreading harmful, fatal gas to the area and even killing people. Kabukimono was scared. Seeing his fellow friends and villagers die hurt his sensitive heart terribly, and he didn’t know what to do. You and Niwa were also struggling with the situation. When he asked about any updates, you always forced a smile and held him close to your chest, combing your fingers through his hair and not responding.
Kabukimono knew he had to do something. For Tatarasuna, for his friends, for Niwa, for you.
“I’m going to Inazuma City,” Kabukimono said one day, all of a sudden, surprising you greatly.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I’m going to go to the city,” he repeated, “and talk to my mo-, the Shogun with my golden feather. Maybe she can help us.”
You remained silent for a moment. You knew of the complicated relationship your lover held with the Electro Archon. But you could not bring yourself to stop him. Kabukimono had that look of resolution in his eye, and this was his decision. As his devoted lover, you were in no place to refute him.
“Alright, Kabukimono. Come here then,” the puppet tilted his head curiously before following you to your shared bedroom. You made him sit at the dresser in front of the mirror before taking out the special comb and working through any knots in his hair. He seemed to be confused, but he relaxed at the sensation of your skilled fingers stroking his long hair.
“If you’re going to meet the Shogun, you should prepare. So, practice with me, love. What are you going to say?”
“I’m going to say… please help the people of Tatarasuna. We need your help otherwise the situation will get worse and everyone will…” his voice trailed off. “And I have so many people I care about here, and I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt. So please help.” You patted his head comfortingly.
“Good. You’re doing amazing, love. You can do this,” you whispered, moving your hands up and down his shoulders. You redid his red eyeliner and gave him the cleanest pair of clothing you had just washed, not a single speck of dust to be seen on his white outfit. It was time for him to leave, but you could not help but be reluctant to your lover’s departure. Kabukimono, ever growing more aware of human emotions, noticed and attempted to comfort you by intertwining his fingers with yours.
“Don’t worry about me, [Name]. I’m going to be back soon, and I’ll bring help with me. Everything will be okay,” he clumsily reassured you and squeezed your hands. A slight smile grew on your face as you squeezed back.
“Kabukimono,” you pecked his forehead. “I love you more than anything.” Despite the situation, the puppet could not help but go a bit soft.
“I love you more, [Name],” he responded without hesitation before kissing you on the lips. The kiss felt melancholic somehow, even though you two knew you would see each other again. This was just a few days of separation. You had hope, and so did he. You placed one last kiss on his cheek before you sent him on his way, waving him goodbye.
Little did he know that would be the last time he saw you ever again.
When you heard a knock at your door, you jumped up to your feet and nearly sprinted to the door. It had been a few days since your beloved Kabukimono had left for Inazuma City, and you were growing antsy waiting for his return.
What you were not expecting was the Fontainian mechanic to be standing at your doorstep with a smile. Your heart dropped immediately but you forced an uncomfortable smile on your face.
“Escher,” you greeted, trying not to let your emotions show on your face. “What do you need?”
“No pleasantries [Name]? How cruel of you,” he chuckled and you could only fake laugh in response. To be honest, you wanted to keep this conversation as short as possible, for you and Niwa had great suspicions regarding the Fontainian. In fact, you thought he wasn’t from Fontaine at all. But you didn’t want to let him know that now. You were relying on Niwa to deal with that kind of stuff.
“Oh… my apologies. You know, I’ve just been on edge for a few days, with the furnace situation and all.” Escher appeared to smile in… agreement with your statement. 
“Ah, I know exactly what you mean. Dreadful situation, really,” he nodded. You felt like he wasn’t being sincere in the slightest. “I’ve come to ask, is it true that puppet has gone to Inazuma City?” You raised an eyebrow at his question.
“Kabukimono,” you repeated his name, “has indeed gone there. He’s trying to seek an audience with the Shogunate to get help for us.” Escher hummed in acknowledgment.
“I see. Niwa said the same thing,” you perked up at the mention of your friend’s name.
“Niwa? You’ve seen him? He’s actually supposed to be meeting me here soon, but I haven’t received any word from him.”
“Oh, you’ll be meeting Niwa shortly. He’s on his way,” Escher replied. Although that seemed like a normal statement, it felt very ominous to you.
“Um… alright. Thanks,” you mumbled hesitantly. “If that’s all…”
“Say, if I may be so intrusive, what do you find interesting about the Shogun’s puppet?” The question caught you off guard.
“Excuse me?”
“Please, do indulge my curiosity. The puppet lacks the ability to understand humans and the world around him, and he does not possess a heart, nor does he have any exceptional qualities. As a researcher, I simply find the relationship intriguing.” You furrowed your eyebrows at his words and resisted the urge to slap him. 
“Kabukimono has plenty of wonderful qualities,” you rebuked. “He’s selflessly kind, caring, and helpful to all, even to those who don’t need to deserve it. He may not understand humans to the fullest extent, but he can laugh, smile, and cry with them. He’s trying to be better every day. That’s something most people can’t say.” You don’t know why you were trying so hard to defend Kabukimono and yourself against someone who probably wouldn’t understand a fraction of what you were saying, but you felt the need to do so anyway.
“And for the record, Kabukimono does possess a heart. It may not be physical, but it surely exists. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes,” you declared resolutely. You’ve always believed Kabukimono did not need to fret over not having a heart in his chest. The heart he owned was something far more beautiful, portrayed by his kindness and care for others. But, your seriousness was met with a bout of laughter from Escher. He seemed positively amused, and you instinctively shrunk back since he seemed completely mad.
His laughter suddenly made your body shiver with a horrible feeling, so you quickly tried to slam the door in his face when Escher suddenly moved faster than your eyes and brain could see or comprehend. An overwhelming pain coursed through your body, and when you looked down there was a rapidly growing bloody stain seeping through your clothes, dripping on the floor. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, falling from the floor as you clutched your severe injury with pain.
“You… damn you… Niwa was right about you,” you struggled to breathe and forced the words out. “What are you… planning?” The smile on “Escher’s” face never seemed to leave as he brushed you off.
“What an interesting response. I found your little love game quite amusing. Really, the idea of a human loving a puppet was entertaining to watch.”
“Wha… what? How dare you?” You seethed despite being on the verge of blacking out from your injuries. “Our love was real. It doesn’t matter if he was human or not. Those things don’t matter when it comes to love. And not everyone wants to use other people, unlike you. Some people,” you scowled and coughed out some blood, “actually care about others regardless of any other factors. And I cared for him, no matter what.” The mechanic’s smile only grew as he chuckled at your response.
“What a beautiful way to see this world. It almost makes me feel a little bit bad… but do not worry. You will be joining Niwa shortly… and your beloved puppet will be left in good hands.”
The last thing your eyes saw was the malicious grin of Escher, but the last thing you saw as your eyes fluttered shut was the beautiful smile of your Kabukimono. In your last moments, you prayed and hoped to whatever would be willing to take pity on you, that Kabukimono would not believe the lies of this man. That he would see that your love for him was always true and that you would never betray him under any circumstances.
Your last wish was left unfulfilled. 
Meanwhile, Kabukimono came to the conclusion that the Shogunate had turned their backs on Tatarasuna and its people. The feeling was nothing new to the puppet, having been betrayed by his own mother, but it still served as a painful reminder of reality for him. So, the trip was a complete waste of time that only served to cause him more despair, and he had left you alone for no reason. But now, he was back in Tatarasuna. He wondered if you and Niwa had come up with a solution by now. 
However, upon his arrival, Kabukimono was greeted by Escher instead. The mechanic, ever smiling, gave him a device that would help him absorb the Tatarigami and save Tatarasuna. The puppet only heard “save Tatarasuna.” If Tatarasuna was safe, then you would be safe and happy. Niwa too. Everyone would be okay, and everything would go back to normal eventually. It would take some time, but the peaceful, slow days he loved to spend with you would soon return. So, with his love for you as his motivation, Kabukimono took the device and headed into the hazardous furnace with hopes of a better future in mind.
The process of absorbing the Tatarigami was exhausting for Kabukimono, but he had done it. He felt as if he could barely walk straight after the arduous process. As he stumbled out of the furnace, Escher was waiting for him, who quickly concealed his sick grin at the sight of the puppet.
“It seems as though you have succeeded. How wonderful,” the mechanic seemingly congratulated him. Kabukimono didn’t need his words right now. All he wanted was to go back home to you. You were surely so worried about him right now. He was worried about you too, having been apart from you for a while. But something gnawed at Kabukimono’s curiosity. The device Escher had given him made him feel strange. It had protected him from the dangers of the furnace, yet it was just… odd. The puppet had to question the mechanic as to what was in it before he returned to you.
“This device… what is in it? I think it protected me,” Kabukimono mumbled, fatigue slurring his words. Kabukimono missed the mechanic’s slight psychotic grin at his question, already having his schemes and lies planned out.
“Your dear [Name] volunteered themselves for this. Were it not for them, the purification device would not have worked,” Escher shook with head with faux sadness. Kabukimono instantly froze and ran cold. All the heavy exhaustion and aches that plagued Kabukimono’s body dissipated into nothingness at those few words, replaced by sheer adrenaline fueled by fear.
“What? What do you mean by that?” Kabukimono shot up straight, panic and confusion seeping through him. Escher cracked open the device, and it was then Kabukimono’s body was assaulted with dread. There lay a withered heart. Bile crept up to the puppet’s throat as he staggered back at the horrific sight. Escher continued on as if this was nothing special.
“Indeed, the poor thing,” Kabukimono was too shocked to pick up on the mechanic’s mocking tone, “The device could have worked without the heart, but you would not be able to survive. And so they sacrificed themselves which Niwa and the others agreed to before fleeing. It’s their last gift to you,” Escher lied effortlessly, weaving a false tale for the sake of manipulating the once-innocent puppet further. He knew that the puppet would be too hurt and confused by your death to question him about the validity of his statements. It was his fate to be betrayed, to be used, the disguised Harbinger wanted to drill into him.
Kabukimono opened his mouth and then closed it, and then tried to speak again but no words could come out. Your heart did not even resemble a heart anymore, now black and discolored and no longer beating. Kabukimono could not bring himself to think that was your heart, because your heart would be a beautiful one, a pure one from how wonderful a person you were. And your heart would be in your chest, so he could listen to your heartbeat to fall asleep at night. Surely, something like that could not belong to you? Because that would mean you are… you are… the one word he cannot bring himself to even think of.
“You’re… you’re lying,” the words that leave the puppet’s mouth take a great amount of energy, energy that he wouldn’t have had normally but his concern for you was far deeper than his bodily needs. “You’re lying!” Kabukimono slowly grew more animated from his initial horror. “[Name] is waiting for me. They’re waiting for me at home!” The eccentric could only repeat his words over and over again, for his poor mind could not compose anything else at this moment.
“Oh? If you don’t believe me, you’re free to-” Before Escher could finish his sentence, Kabukimono turned and took off in the opposite direction with speed even he could not have expected. To think that he could work up that much stamina after absorbing all of the filth in the furnace. He was truly a God’s creation.
“Oh my. Perhaps I should have left the body there for him to see too,” the mechanic smiled to himself as he shifted back to his regular form. “The face of what should have been an emotionless puppet after losing everything he holds dear… an interesting experiment indeed.”
Kabukimono’s speed rivaled the time he ran when you were hurt. He ran as fast as his puppet joints would take him, ignoring the stinging of his knees from tripping and falling, ignoring all the pain he had just endured from the furnace, and immediately launching himself back up to continue sprinting. He wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it, no, he can’t, for if you are gone, what was the point of this world? You are his light, his everything, his whole world, and perhaps even part of his will to live after his betrayal and trauma. So no, you simply cannot be dead. You still had to be here. 
He reassures himself through haggard pants due to overexertion. He’s going to reach your house soon. When he arrives, the view will be beautiful. First, he’ll see you waiting there patiently for him, and then you’ll jump up and wave to him excitedly. He will see the Lavender Melon tree bearing juicy fruits, but you’ll be there to swat his hand away playfully and tell him they’re still not ready yet. He’ll see you take his hand and lead him into the kitchen. The two of you will eat some home-cooked food together, and you’ll kiss his forehead and praise him for how hard-working he was today. Since he was so tired, you’ll take a long, lovely, bath with him, washing away all the fatigue he’s built up in his body. Of course, he’ll do the same for you. Lastly, you two will be cuddling together and tickling each other under the blankets playfully, giggles filling the room, since the situation has been resolved. It will be simply wonderful, Kabukimono thinks. It will be okay. It will be okay. It will be okay.
Finally, the puppet makes it to the familiar path leading to your house. His senses do not notice the sight or scent of the smoke yet, far too disconnected from reality at the moment, his thoughts only occupied with you. Again, he thinks it will be okay. Everything will be alright. Then, Kabukimono came to a screeching halt in a matter of seconds.
Your house and everything around it was on fire.
Kabukimono paused to look at it, hues of orange, red, and yellow dancing and engraving themselves into his memories. He stood there, mouth slightly agape. He wanted so badly for this all to be a dream, a hallucination. He didn’t want this to be real. Yet with how badly his senses were assaulted, Kabukimono knew deep down that this was reality. Another blink, and he scrambled from his spot and into the inside of the burning house, completely ignoring the possibility of injury. Ignoring the fact that you were most likely no longer alive.
Everything was up in flames. He noticed everything you had was virtually gone, burnt to crisps. The rooms of the house had become unrecognizable, nothing more than burnt pieces of wood and its decorations now disfigured. Soot began to cover his once pure white clothing, but he paid no mind. Kabukimono rushed into every room of his home anyway, ignoring the licking of flames against his body, trying to distinguish anything that wasn’t ruined. Trying to find you, because he still refused to believe any of this was real. Refusing to believe that the kitchen table was now a pile of scorched wood. Refusing to believe the once soft and fluffy rugs and blankets were now burnt wool. Refusing to believe that the futon was reduced to nothing more than holes. Refusing to believe that now you were nothing more than a… corpse.
Desperation had overtaken the puppet’s incoherent mind. He dug through the piles of burnt furniture and items and wood with his bare hands, ignoring the stinging and burning it did to his fair skin, in hopes that for some reason he would find you there. He trashed the remains even more than they had been damaged by the fire, fueled by sheer anguish and desolation until nothing had been left untouched. He found nothing. 
You were… not here… you were… gone. The realization made his knees buckle as he crumpled to the floor in agony. You were truly… dead. Death meant he would never be able to see you again. Death meant none of your smiles, your laughs, your hugs and kisses, and reassurance. Death meant your love was gone. And all of these memories too were nothing but ashes now. Kabukimono’s skin felt like it was on fire. Yet inside, the puppet felt cold. Very cold. A coldness he hadn’t felt since his first betrayal…
This wasn’t just a house. It was his home. He had finally found a home. A home with you. Somewhere he was accepted. Loved. A place where he thought he had a heart. But you…
You betrayed him too, the puppet thought, as he bawled his eyes out, screaming and crying and wailing long after his throat went hoarse, ignoring the raging fires and smoke around him. But you promised him. You promised him so many things. To celebrate many birthdays with him, to teach him new recipes, lots of words, and new traditions and holidays. To marry him. How dare you, how dare you break your promise to him…? Was this all a hoax, a lie? Why? 
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
For what seemed like ages, that word was the only thing that ran through Kabukimono’s thoughts, staring blankly into space. The tears still fell and stained his cheeks, but the puppet had quelled his sobbing. As he stared mindlessly, images of you flashed through his mind, yet they began to fade away into nothingness. Your laughter faintly rang in his ears, but it soon turned to silence. 
Kabukimono could not keep track of how long he sat in the fire. Eventually, he got up and stumbled out of the burning stack of wood, almost like a newborn baby who was learning how to walk. Lost and unsure, needing guiding support from a loved one. Only that you were no longer there to provide that for him. 
It was then that Kabukimono realized the truth of this world, leaving behind his “heart” in the ashy remains of his old home.
Love? Love meant nothing but an eternity of deception. It was a lie, he seethed internally. Such worldly filth was what caused his chest to ache so terribly now, and those disgusting and weak tears to fall from his eyes, his throat to be choked up and clogged. Opening himself up to love was the same as opening himself up to torment and betrayal. And therefore, the puppet vowed that day to remove every human emotion from his being. If he did, then maybe one day he could forget about the endless pain your death caused him. With one swift motion, his long hair was no more, instead lying in clumps around his feet.
Kabukimono died with you that day, never to be seen again.
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lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.
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jaketsparrow · 1 month
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SOMETHING... | JTK
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Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader
Word Count: 10.6K
Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…
A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :) 
Playlist
*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist
MINORS DNI
MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth. 
The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy. 
There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern. 
He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all. 
Professor Kiszka on the other hand… 
When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man. 
You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him. 
3 Months Ago
The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad. 
The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?
Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.
Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last. 
Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…
“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone. 
“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off. 
You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears. 
Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”
“Just for you.” 
And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare. 
The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather. 
You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room. 
The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway. 
You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…
One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room. 
It was empty. 
The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work. 
You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.
You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away. 
Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever.  A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.
“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway. 
You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. 
You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover. 
“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond. 
He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level. 
He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”
“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you. 
“-Your favorite?” He asks. 
You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry? 
“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him. 
You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point. 
He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?” 
You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite. 
“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer. 
He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.” 
He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table. 
“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously. 
You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process. 
“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort. 
He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.” 
Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.
“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”
He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat. 
“You don’t approve?” He scoffs. 
“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.” 
“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”
You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber. 
“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly. 
You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart. 
He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger. 
“Please, call me Jacob.” 
You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips. 
“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”
You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake. 
His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand. 
“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…” 
You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”
 He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings. 
“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”
You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.
“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him. 
Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite. 
Present
In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve. 
Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try. 
Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress. 
You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items. 
One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation. 
“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so? 
“You look like a pirate.” You responded. 
A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked. 
His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth. 
When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.
You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag. 
He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there? 
This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.
“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”
Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement. 
“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago. 
“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.
He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…” 
You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”
He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”
Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave. 
“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.” 
The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up. 
You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him. 
He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you. 
You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him. 
You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.” 
He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.” 
You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him. 
You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.
A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard. 
“Hey.” He prods. 
You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands. 
“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption. 
“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues. 
No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…
You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.” 
He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.” 
Two Hours Later
Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.
The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?
You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction. 
You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product. 
Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too. 
Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance. 
Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it. 
Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello. 
You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.  
You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript. 
You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old. 
You press play and lower the needle onto the music. 
Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold. 
Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…
You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity. 
You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete. 
You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important… 
The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…
 You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar. 
The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels. 
Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.” 
He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass.  He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face. 
You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily. 
“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter. 
You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before. 
“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”
“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?” 
You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you. 
He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..” 
You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters. 
“Oh, dear god.” You sigh. 
“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”
“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.” 
He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.
“Want to know something funny?” He questions. 
You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue. 
“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”
You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot. 
“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.” 
He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.” 
Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care? 
“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-” 
“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”
He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him. 
“Did I offend you?” You ask.
“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.” 
“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate. 
“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...” 
You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.
“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.” 
He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down. 
He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks. 
Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you. 
No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you. 
The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page. 
“See this paragraph here?” He questions. 
You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement 
You need to focus. 
You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?” 
He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.” 
You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost. 
“What…? What problem?” 
You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist. 
He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ” 
You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside. 
You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible. 
“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”
Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from. 
“Professor-” You initiate.
“Jacob.” He replies. 
“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.” 
He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”
You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all… 
Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.
You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin. 
“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-” 
“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”
You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand. 
“You… You were?” He searches for the answer. 
“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off. 
“But?” He inquires. 
You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber. 
“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.” 
Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression. 
“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear. 
You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction. 
“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said. 
“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you. 
You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in. 
“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”
“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”
He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.” 
You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?” 
“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.” 
He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.
“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”
“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone
You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared. 
“How rough are we talking…” You prod. 
The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.” 
You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private. 
You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before… 
Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting. 
His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles. 
“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”
You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest. 
His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language. 
He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood. 
“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”
“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter. 
You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your… 
His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.” 
“Yes-”
Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck. 
His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing. 
You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect. 
His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you. 
He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off. 
“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked. 
You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from. 
“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down. 
“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.    
He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.
“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?” 
You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”
He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”
Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments. 
“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice. 
He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely. 
“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.” 
The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on. 
He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion. 
“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.” 
You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own. 
His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses. 
“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”
His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him. 
“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…” 
Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease. 
His kisses start to graze you closer to your… 
He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means. 
“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.” 
He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm. 
“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”
“Good girl.”
Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you. 
Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-” 
Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to. 
His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder. 
“Green?” He asks, looking for permission. 
You nodded your head ferociously  
You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop. 
“Words.” He barked. 
Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…” 
“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.
“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg. 
The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again. 
He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding. 
Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room. 
“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”
You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you. 
His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks. 
“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?” 
Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now. 
“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”
Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you. 
He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity. 
“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”
He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once. 
He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending.  It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more. 
You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you. 
Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore. 
“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation. 
He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end. 
Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness… 
He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped… 
Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen. 
A knock at the classroom door. 
“Hello?” Someone called out. 
There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew. 
“Everything okay in here Kiszka?” 
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”
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adventuringblind · 6 months
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Hi, I hope you are doing good 🧡
Could you do a Lando x gf where she isn't used to feel loved (for example she isn't used to hearing compliments, receiving thoughtful gifts or affectionate gestures) and when he does one of those things she doesn't know how to react and gets emotional? Like an overwhelming feeling of being loved. Thank you!
Nothing but Love
Lando Norris x Reader
Genre: fluff
Reguest: yes and I'm taking hurt/comfort and angst prompts. I'm actually looking to do specifically mental health prompts because I think it's comforting to read things like that 🤷🏻‍♀️
Summary: Read the request. I'm so proud to have followed it because I was wanting to make it angsty and I stopped myself.
Notes: This is a 4+1 thing.
Masterlist
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Gift Giving
Affection had never been something she got much of. It's something her parents struggled with to the point that it seemed like they were always distant. Both with each other and her.
She is affection starved. It's a fact Lando knew about before they even started dating.
He knew it was going to be difficult to warm her up to it at first. He just needs to find her love language and use that to his advantage.
First on the list: gifts.
Lando, in all honesty, does not think this is her favorite thing. He's seen her at Christmas almost die at the thought of people spending money on her.
But he has money, and he wants to use it on her.
He starts out small with things she needs and doesn't make a big deal out of it. She mentions a snack she's craving, and he has it for her the next day. If she complains all her socks are starting to get holes in them, there are new socks in her drawer the next morning.
He keeps it small, and she appreciates it.
Acts of service
Lando isn't expecting her reaction to this one to be so overwhelming. He purposely makes it a point to do small things like clean up around the house and check of tasks on her to-do list.
She doesn't know how to act at first. It's like she's a robot with no programming or direction. Eventually she warms up to the idea and she learns she can just thank him, be grateful, and move on with the day.
It takes a while to get there, and he has to remind her several times that she doesn't need to try and do everything on her own.
Plus, Lando finds it nice doing mundane tasks when his world is so chaotic and crazy most the time.
Quality time
This one is something they both do on the regular anyways. It's one of Lando's major love languages. He himself needs quality time. The difference here is that Lando makes it a point to do her favorite things that she struggles asking him to do with her.
He takes her to see movies she's been talking about for months. They go to the concerts of her favorite bands that maybe he doesn't like as much. He plays her favorite games with her that he sucks at and watches her smile when she wins.
In a way, it's like watching a child get to do all the things she never got to. Always too busy trying to take care of herself growing up. It's one of his favorite things to see.
Her childish smile makes him fall deeper every time.
Physical touch
Everyone knows Lando is clingy. Every moment of everyday he is touching somebody. Not in a weird way, mind you. Simply hugging, holding, cuddling, shoulder patting, anything that keeps him in close proximity to the people he cares about.
It was something she wasn't used to at first. His touch starved human had no idea how to reciprocate his endless bouts of physical needs.
She caught on quick. A fast study. Now she may even be as clingy as him.
People are so disgusted by their constant public displays of affection. It's a never ending well of tight hugs and stolen kisses.
If she goes to him for affection, he never turns her away. It doesn't matter what he's doing. He could be streaming, and he will not hesitate to either turn it off or if she's comfortable will let her cuddle him while he's gaming.
Words of affirmation
This is the one that got her. He wasn't expecting her to be so shocked when he said he was proud of her for eating three meals that day. Or stutter and blush when he said she's the most gorgeous person he has ever placed eyes on.
He makes it a point to remind himself to say things like that to her. Even the littles compliments.
Sometimes she cries and tries to tell him he's wrong. How he's the only one who has ever said such things about her. Oh, how he wishes he could go back and meet her sooner and tell her all the things she deserves too here.
He is constantly showering her in compliments and reassurance. He reminds her she is worthy of praise and affection. She cries about it sometimes and he just holds her and tells her that she's worthy.
He does it daily and as often as he can. He would start every sentence about her with a compliment if he could.
Her parents may not have given her the affection she deserves. But he will, and he'll make sure she gets all the affection he can give because she deserves it.
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cryptidghostgirl · 1 month
Text
Ritornello (Alastor x Cursed!Gn!Reader)
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Warnings: I don't think there are any but please correct me if I am wrong.
Word Count: 3,565
Previous Part: Rhapsody
Next Part: Rapture
Master Lists:
Master Lists 
Hazbin Hotel Master List
A/N Okay I know that canonically Charlie is like 200 but we're gonna make her 25.
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After everything with Alastor, Y/n tried to continued their life as it had been before he'd stepped into. It was challenging, they faltered and misstepped. They had been good at being on their own once but now that they had a taste of the alternative, it was difficult to fall back into their old ways. Eventually, they managed to fall into a new pattern of being.
They were a bit more careful now, they didn't dash out unannounced from behind corners or secret hiding places. Seeing Alastor was the last thing they wanted to do. Now, they had someone to avoid.
For seventeen years, they continued on like this. They struggled through their battles on their own, against the overlords and against their own personal situation. They searched high and low for a cure but the only things they ever seemed able to come up with were false promises and temporary fixes. Every day, the curse the overlords had placed on them to limit their powers was growing stronger. Every time they used their magic, played their music, it became more and more corrupted and so, they learned to fight with their hands. This was until they got the call from Lucifer, of course.
The pair were old friends of a sort. Y/n had met him by chance within their first few days in Hell when he'd pulled them out of a tight spot. They didn't spend time together ever or really see one another at all but, Y/n had a vague sort of trust for the man, a strong sense of a debt needing to be repaid. Y/n didn't like owing people things, not even back when they were alive. They didn't like depending on people in that way. When he asked them if they could keep an eye on his daughter, they couldn't refuse.
Charlie was a lot. At twelve years old, she was bright and over the top and constantly bursting out into song. At first, Y/n had been rather uncertain about the whole arrangement, even when she'd gone through her emo phase at fifteen.
Y/n tried to steer clear of them for the most part. Picking her up from school, dropping her off. Babysitting when her parents needed a night to themselves, the normal stuff. When the issues started between Lilith and Lucifer, Charlie was suddenly thrust into Y/n's life a lot more. She had no idea the real reason, both her parents wanting to keep the trouble from her due to their own care and protective natures, and Y/n tried their best to keep it that way. It didn't help that by sixteen, Charlie had practically moved in with the demon but they managed.
Charlie had always pushed for a connection, something more than Y/n making her dinner and getting her where she needed to go. Y/n resisted at all costs. They'd been hurt before by trust, by care. The idea of going through it all again was terrifying. That all changed the day Charlie found out about the curse.
Y/n hadn't meant for her to find out. One of their situation's many many downsides was that while the curse ate away at their magic, it also ate away at their physical form. If they weren't careful, if they didn't temper their emotions and make sure they were eating enough raw meat, the beast would take over.
The beast was a horrific thing in their eyes, blood hungry and devastating. It was sub-human, sub-demon even, writhing and scornful. A mass of twisting shells of prey, a mass of claws and sharp teeth.
Of course, Y/n couldn't keep it from Charlie forever and on one fateful evening, Y/n had transformed. They'd been overworked, stressed about the fact that the Vees were gaining more territory and power, that soon they would be practically untouchable. They had forgotten to take care of themselves in the rush of it all, prioritizing Charlie and their plans.
When they had come back to their senses, come back to themself, it had been to the sight of Charlie. With a damp rag held to their forehead by the demoness and a whole lot of bones from victims of their situation on the floor around them, they had opened their eyes. Y/n had expected Charlie to flinch, to run in fear, to tell Lucifer who knew nothing about the curse. Instead, she had smiled brightly and told Y/n she was glad they were okay. From that day forward, they were absolutely inseparable, completely attached at the hip.
With Charlie's help and cheerful influence, Y/n was beginning to learn how to exist. They loved the girl like she was their own and Charlie knew if she ever had an issue of any sort, she could go to Y/n about it. Even when Y/n had relayed the story of how they'd been cursed and why, there had been no issues, no qualms, nothing. Charlie promised her watcher that she would help them break the curse, no matter what it took.
It was watching Charlie come into herself as a young adult, watching her meet and fall in love with Vaggie that made the real difference. The princess of Hell was unapologetically herself and Vaggie took everything she had to offer with open arms. Slowly but surely, the search for a cure took a back seat as did Y/n's goal of taking down the overlords of Hell. Their life was different, but they were happy. They found themself wishing for the past, the one they had shared with Alastor, less and less, channeling their energy into the world around them. They didn't even notice when the reports started to come in that the Radio Demon of the overlords had seemingly vanished.
Things hadn't been without their challenges. Charlie's relationship with her dad was strained to say the least and when her mom had disappeared? She'd been absolutely inconsolable but with one another's help, they figured things out, made it through.
When Charlie pitched the idea of the Happy Hotel, Y/n had been doubtful. They knew a lot about Hell, the way it functioned, the way the demons within were. It came from decades running around back streets and surviving in the underworld of the underworld. It was Charlie's hope that did it, her earnest gaze. Y/n had caved and after months of hard work, the Hotel had finally opened.
Things were going well, too well even. Then there had been the interview with Katie Killjoy, the other shoe dropping. Y/n had watched it from the sidelines with Vaggie. As soon as Charlie had come down off the set, they had enveloped her in their arms and held them close. With Vaggie's help, they managed to get Charlie back to the hotel.
Once she had calmed down a little bit, Charlie stood from where she had been seated in the sitting room beside Y/n, Vaggie, and the hotel's one resident: Angel Dust. She mentioned something about calling her mom before disappearing into the lobby.
Y/n and Vaggie exchanged a look. They both knew the situation Charlie was in with regards to her mother and how she tended to get after one of her failed attempts to contact the woman. Neither thought this was the time or the place to step in however, and remained seated, chatting idly with Angel as they waited for Charlie's return.
When she finally did, it was with a nervous attitude and a strained expression.
"Hey Vaggie?"
"What?" Vaggie asked as she and Y/n twisted to look at Charlie who stood in the door way behind the couch.
"Can you come help me please?"
Vaggie got to her feet and exited the sitting room with her girlfriend. Y/n turned to Angel to continue their conversation but had barley gotten a word to the spider demon out when Vaggie stepped back in the room.
"Y/n?"
"Yeah?" Y/n replied calmly.
"Charlie actually needs our help with this one, I think."
"Alright then." Y/n got to their feet, shooting a glance back at Angel, "A true hotelier's work is never done." they lightly joked and Angel rolled his eyes.
"What's this about?" Y/n asked Vaggie as they followed her down the hall towards the hotel's main entrance.
"Just..." Vaggie sighed, "you'll see."
Noting the girl's odd behavior and stressed demeanor, Y/n steeled themselves. Not much put Vaggie on edge. She was strong, toughened, as far as Y/n knew, by a brutal upbringing in the streets of Hell. While each use of their powers made the curse grow stronger, they would not hesitate to protect Charlie or her dreams should the need arise. Besides, they'd become quite good at other means of self preservation over the years.
As they rounded the corner into the lobby space, Y/n was greeted by a flash of red as someone pushed past Charlie into the space from the street and a familiar voice.
"Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on the picture show and I just couldn't resist. What a performance! Why I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929. So many orphans."
Y/n let out a low growl, summoning their lute into their hands and Vaggie pointed her spear at the Radio Demon. It was pure instinct. If they knew anyone, they knew Alastor and redemption was not the Radio Demon's cup of tea. As Charlie shut the door, he turned to face them. Y/n walked a few steps forward, planting their feet a little ways away from Alastor and poising their fingers to play.
"Get out of here." They said through gritted teeth.
Alastor's eyes widened with recognition for the smallest moment. As quick as he had lost it, he regained his composure.
"My what a protective force this Hazbin Hotel has." Alastor mused.
"It's called the Happy Hotel actually?" Charlie hesitantly corrected and he laughed.
"Not anymore its not. I did you the favor of fixing your sign."
A little threat couldn't hurt, a little reminder of who he was dealing with. Alastor had no idea Y/n was any less capable than when he'd first met them. One little note couldn't hurt, wouldn't show any of the damage done. Y/n plucked a single string on their instrument and the room around them began to glow. Everyone's hair lifted around their faces, the loose edges of their clothes beginning to flutter.
"Get out of here now. I wont ask you again."
"Now, is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Alastor replied, smirking.
Everything suddenly clicked into place. There was something different about him. Y/n couldn't put their finger on exactly what it was, but they could tell he hadn't been lying. He'd been at the Hotel for at least five minutes by now, maybe more with all Charlie and Vaggie's running back and forth since his arrival. If he had had any truly negative intentions, they would have revealed themselves, especially to Y/n. Alastor was a good liar, but no one was that good, good enough to trick someone who had watched them become the person they are.
"Old friend?" Vaggie repeated, turning to Y/n in confusion.
Their grimace faltered, before falling completely. They released their instrument, letting it hang loosely in their hand by their side.
"Alastor! You're embarrassing me in front of my kid."
"Your kid?" Alastor asked after a moment.
This time the shocked expression that crept its way onto his face stayed there.
"You know him?" Charlie asked at the same moment as Alastor spoke.
Y/n let their instrument dissolve into the air and gestured to Charlie.
"My kid. And yes, Charlie. I know Alastor."
Alastor turned, looking Charlie up and down.
"You got with Lucifer?" Alastor asked in confusion as he looked back at Y/n.
They laughed lightly at the notion, unable to stop themselves. They shook their head.
"No. Oh my gosh, I would never. Seriously just... great guy and all but no thank you. I just take care of his kid for him. Well, used to. We sorta got attached."
Charlie walked up to Y/n as they spoke, pulling them into a side hug.
"Y/n practically raised me. They were kinda the only one who was always there for me."
Y/n looked down at Charlie with a fond smile. They ruffled her hair and Charlie quickly batted their hand away.
It was clear to Alastor that Y/n had changed. They were no longer the trouble making demon he had known, that he had loved. Still, there was that same spark in their eyes, that fervent desire, that want. From just the small interaction playing out before him, he could tell that Y/n had learned how to trust and protect rather than just fight. They had learned to live hand in hand with that creeping need woven so tightly around their bones, rather than despite it.
It made him happy to see, it made him happy for her. At the same time, it caused his heart to ache terribly. They had finally been able to let someone in, and it hadn't been him.
In the years since their separation, Alastor had never stopped thinking about Y/n. Their memory was tender to the touch, shot sparks of joy or anguish down him depending on the day. It was like an old wound that had never quite healed right. Seeing them now was unexpected. The wound reopened. He sheltered himself.
Y/n saw the way Vaggie still had her spear pointed at Alastor, aimed straight at his neck. Gently, they placed a hand on it, pushing it down. Vaggie looked at them, her eyebrows raised.
"If he wanted to hurt anyone here, he would have done so already."
Vaggie stared at Y/n for a moment. Seeing how serious the demon that had become a mentor to her was in this moment, she lowered her blade. Y/n's hand fell back to their side.
"Now," Y/n turned to look at Alastor once again, "why are you here?"
----
It was late. Vaggie had told Y/n that Charlie wanted to speak to them about something in their office and so, Y/n found themselves outside the familiar door. They knocked once on the dark red wood.
"Yeah?"
They opened the door and Charlie smiled.
"What'd you wanna talk to me about, Sunshine?" Y/n asked as they entered the room, taking a seat in the chair across the desk from their young charge.
"Just about Alastor."
They should have known. Not only was the hotel at a potential risk thanks to the decision to allow him to work with them but Charlie had always had a sharp sense of curiosity. Y/n sighed.
"Fire away, kiddo."
"Well, how do you two know one another? Can we trust him? Do you think he means what he says he does? I thought you hated overlords? I.. I..."
Y/n smiled softly, the change in their face easing Charlie's nervous temper.
"We will handle these one at a time, no prying. Deal?"
"Y/n, you realize how suspicious that makes you sound, right?"
"Fine. A little prying. Deal?"
"Deal."
Y/n leaned back in their chair, letting out a sigh of nostalgia. Their hands rested on their stomach as they kicked their feet up onto Charlie's desk.
"I... I met Alastor practically right after he arrived. We both thought the overlord system was dumb and so, we decided to team up."
There was a moment of silence, broken by Charlie. The young demoness had always loved Y/n's stories, begged to hear them. They had never once heard this one before.
"Is that all?"
Y/n shook their head.
"We dated."
"You dated!" Charlie exclaimed in shock, nearly jumping out of her seat, "You dated the Radio Demon. Were you in love?"
Of course she'd go on and ask that next. Not 'how'd that happen?' not 'when was this?' No, Charlie had to go for the hardest question first, like she always did.
"Yes." Y/n hesitantly replied, "I did."
"I... oh my god. This is actually crazy. You dated? You actually dated. Like for real, in love, dated."
"Alright." Y/n clapped their hands, taking their feet off the desk and righting themselves in their chair, "Next question."
"Bu-"
"I said some prying."
"Fine." Charlie sighed, crossing her arms, "But I am gonna get that story out of you eventually."
"I'm sure you will, sunshine." Y/n chuckled lightly, "Now. Can we trust him? I... I'm not sure."
All the excitement vanished from Charlie as she looked seriously over at Y/n.
"Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"Because, he's up to something but not with us. Or, if it is with us, it's not to hurt us. I... something happened to him, something is different. I am not sure what I just... he's not here to hurt us... I think..."
"You think?" Charlie repeated indignantly, "Can you be a little more sure of that maybe? Why only think?"
"It's been a long time since I've seen him, Charls. Maybe being an overlord is what changed him. I have no way of knowing but my gut tells me he's okay, at least for now."
"You knew him before he became an overlord?"
"You really think I would team up with one of those bitches? Come on. You know I hate them."
"I-"
"Next question." Y/n quickly interrupted, not wanting to think on the past anymore than was necessary, "I think he does mean what he says, as was implied in whether or not I trusted him but the same caveats that applied there apply here too. And I do hate overlords, I just..."
"You just love him." Charlie teased.
Y/n's cheeks grew hot. They looked away.
"I do not. I loved him. There is a difference."
"Uh-huh. Sure. Why did you guys break up?"
Y/n turned back to Charlie. They couldn't say no to those eyes.
"Well, he became an overlord. Also I maybe... never told him. About the curse. He could tell something was up and..." Y/n took a breath, "couldn't take it after a while I guess."
"So you guys still loved each other when you broke up."
"What are you scheming over there."
"Nothing! Nothing!" Charlie quickly replied as she not so discreetly scribbled something on a piece of paper, "How long were you together?"
Y/n placed their hands on the arms of the chair, pulling themselves to their feet.
"Alright, trouble maker, I think thats enough lore outta me tonight."
"But Y/n!"
"I'm gonna go to bed. Vaggie already headed upstairs for the night I think. Sweet dreams, princess."
"Good night Y/n." Charlie dejectedly replied as she realized she really wasn't going to be getting anything else out of her mentor that night.
"Good night."
Y/n was about half way through the Hotel back to their room when they felt a hand on their shoulder. Reacting purely out of instinct, they ducked out from under the person's grip, spinning around with their fists raised. Alastor smiled down at Y/n and they sighed.
"What is it?" they asked, straightening up.
He had expected Y/n to be angry, to have that familiar sharp edge behind their voice. Instead, they looked up at him. As if everything was normal, as if it hadn't been thirty years since they'd last seen one another, as if they had just been together yesterday, their eyes met his.
"I... it's good to see you."
"It's good to see you too." they replied after a moment's thought, "What are you doing up this late?"
"You know me, sleep is not my preferred way to pass time."
"I meant what are you doing in the hall, but sure. Yeah, I know you."
"That darling Charlie asked to see me."
Y/n scoffed, shaking their head with a tired smile.
"Of course she'd... yeah."
They stood in the hall facing one another. Just a few feet apart. The silence was thick.
"You seem happy."
"I am." Y/n nodded, "Charlie is a great kid. I was pissed when Lucifer first asked me to look after her, I'll admit it but, she has grown on me."
"I didn't know you were acquainted with the big man. I thought you despised all authority figures."
Y/n looked critically at Alastor, over his whole being. He felt they were looking into his very soul, the heart of all his intentions and desires. He felt absolutely naked in the worst way under their gaze.
"No, just overlords. Especially ones who make deals for the souls of others. It's a stupid and outdated system. Even the best of them like Rosie abuse their power to get what they want."
It was a well sharpened arrow, the remark. Perfectly aimed. Alastor had, after all, introduced the small group inhabiting the hotel to Husk and Nifty just that afternoon. Y/n turned their back to Alastor.
"She has big dreams and the passion to see them through. I believe in her. Don't... don't fuck this up for her, Alastor."
----
Next Part -> Rapture
@moonmark98 @luzzbuzz @snowlotr @randomuser-89 @fakeguysarehot @xdolls-crownx
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