#it's not bad or anything but most of them are just having a regular time which is fine but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baeshijima · 1 year

Text

— how to woo the acting grand sage 101

wherein you pull out all the stops in an effort to persuade alhaitham on why he should date you, only… he woos you instead?!

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 7.8k wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, angst if you squint, reader gets ill from overwork in one part, slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (brief mentions/recap of end events)

A/N : reader is struggling but they’re trying their best, alhaitham is a (smitten) menace and bad at feelings (kinda); the embodiment of u fall first, he falls harder (i just think we need more energetic/cute readers with haitham TヘT)

It wasn’t anything special. Really. Just you, your first day jitters, and the calm boy beside you in his Haravatat beret; the same one as yours.

Perhaps he’d noticed your flitting eyes, your shifting feet, or your wrung hands that swung gently in front of your robe-clad body because, when your eyes met (and, oh, what pretty eyes he had), he gave you a small nod. Of what? Comfort? Acknowledgement? Salutations?

You couldn’t tell, and you couldn’t ask. By the time you regained your senses he’d already walked off, the blank space beside you feeling strangely empty.

It wasn’t anything special.

But to you, that one, singular moment was all you needed; the comfort it gave was immeasurable, your first day jitters nonexistent.

You soon found out his name: Alhaitham. The boy in the matching Haravatat beret, the one who gave you a simple nod, and the one who sat in front of you in class.

As far as first impressions went, he was in your good books! Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for your classmates or your professor. He was aloof and indifferent to your peers, sometimes riling them up with his blunt remarks or blatantly ignoring their presence. As for the professor’s apparent dislike, it was most likely due to him rarely attending class after the first week or so (something about self-study being a better use of his time, if you recalled correctly).

But even so, through all the harsh whispers and scorn you saw surround him, no one could deny his academic prowess. How could they when the scores and praise spoke for itself?

In all honesty, you don’t remember when or how Alhaitham accepted your presence amongst others. It took you a while, sure, but he eventually began taking time out of his own to converse with you. Passing conversations soon turned to greeting each other a good morning and bidding the other a farewell, which then turned to late night study sessions in the House of Daena, which then became a regular hangout spot for you both, and so on and so forth.

Oddly enough, knowing you were the only one he would tolerate was somehow rewarding. While he paid no heed to the world around him and moved at his own tempo, you’d always find him waiting for you up ahead.

In that sense, you were comforted by the idea he would be willing to wait for you — and, undoubtedly, you would wait for him too.

Fast forward a few years and you’re now stuck in a long-term unrequited love for the scribe of the Akademiya.

Lovely.

You’ve had a lot to reflect on these past few years (most of which you’d rather not recall), but one thing seemingly remains stagnant; you love Alhaitham. That’s been something you have long-since accepted, and something you’re sure the entirety of Sumeru City are aware of by now.

While you definitely weren’t one to shy away from your (blatantly obvious) feelings, it doesn’t mean you flaunted your love at every opportunity presented. In fact, you were pretty happy with how things are now!

But, well, you only live once, as they say. And, by process of elimination, that just means you should act on your feelings so that you can either finally move on, or land yourself the most eligible bachelor in Teyvat!

(No one other than yourself thinks that, but hey! One is better than none!)

And so that was the origin story for your journey — Operation: “Get Alhaitham to Fall In Love With Me” was then set into motion!

Step 1: Be upfront with your feelings!

Confess to Alhaitham.

You can do that.

All you have to do is strut up to Alhaitham, ask him to hear you out for a moment, (metaphorically) spill your heart out to the man of your dreams, and anticipate a response! A positive one, preferably.

Easy enough, right?

Well, that’s what it should be. So why is it that you’re now pacing back and forth in front of his office door, mentally rehearsing your pre-written confession you spent too many sleepless nights redrafting until you were somewhat satisfied?

A severe oversight on your part, that’s what.

Hm, maybe I should wait another day. The timing doesn’t feel quite right, and the weather is a bit gloomy for a confession. Yeah, maybe I can just head back and pretend I wasn’t even here—

“I can hear you pacing back and forth even with my earpieces on.”

At the familiar, low intonation, you freeze. Body stiff, you slowly turn your head to the man leaning cross-armed against the door frame, an unimpressed look greeting you.

Crap. Was I really that loud...?

With one brow raised and a slight frown tugging his lips, he gives a once-over at your haggard appearance. It doesn’t take long for his expression to morph into one of concern as he takes a step away from the door frame and closer to you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes honed in on yours; or more specifically, the area under your eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept for a decade.”

It sure feels much longer than that...

“I’m alright. I think. Wait. That’s not important right now,” you stammer, head shaking to regain your resolve. Ignoring the judgemental look cast upon you, you lift your head to meet his gaze, fists clenching in an effort to disperse your nerves. “I have something I want to tell you.”

“What is it?”

And with a deep breath and eyes squeezed shut, you blurt out, “I think you’re really good-looking! I really like you, too! Like, a lot! And you have super pretty eyes! And really fluffy hair! And you’re really smart, though you can be a bit of a pain... And... And you have a nice physique!”

Silence.

Under the weight of his blank stare and the impending doom known as ‘silence’, it takes a drawn out second for a horrified gasp to escape you. Belatedly, you realise your absolute abomination of a screw-up — an insatiable urge for the ground to swallow you whole consumes all remaining sense of rationale (which isn’t all that much, really).

Aaaaaaahhhh I went completely off script!!

Perhaps sensing your next move, Alhaitham snaps out of his stupor and begins reaching out for you. “Wait—”

“Ha-Have a good night!”

And then you’re sprinting off into who knows where, leaving Alhaitham stranded at his office doorway with an arm outstretched in your fading direction and a dumbfounded expression settled on his features.

Disgruntled, he rubs the bridge of his nose, the heat washing over him doing little to help reorganise his thoughts. “It’s eight in the morning, not eight in the evening...”

(Alhaitham’s never been more grateful for his soundproof earpieces. Not only does it tune out the outside world at his beck and call, but it also prevents you from seeing the tips of his ears stained a scarlet hue; this being one time out of the many.)

Mission Status: Success...?

Step 2: Give him flowers! A bouquet never hurt anyone!

“Tighnari!”

At the call of his name, Tighnari’s ears flick and perk up. In a swift movement, he turns his head to witness you dashing towards him with a grin, hands waving manically in the air.

“How many times have I told you not to run?” he tuts, head shaking in exasperation. But even with his nagging, you can still detect the smile seizing his lips from a mile away as he begins approaching to meet you halfway.

When you come to a stop in front of him, you merely beam. “Not enough times!”

“Clearly.”

“Anyway,” you begin, “as much as I’d love to stay and chat, have you prepared what I asked for?”

He scoffs at your request, “Of course. Just who do you take me for?”

“The bestest, most reliable friend ever, of course!”

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed someone switch to a deadpan so quickly before.

“Buttering up to me only goes so far, y’know.”

Amidst your grumbles and his chuckles, he leads you back to his house in Gandharva Ville. You’ve always enjoyed the Forest Watcher’s presence, and you’re glad he’s happier now compared to his time in the Akademiya.

The trek back was filled with your usual back-and-forth, lively chatter making its way up and filling the air.

(“Oh, is that a new essential oil?”

“So you’ve noticed. I see your sense of smell is evolving.”

“Well, it’s an entirely different scent from the last one, and I think I’d have to be a little nose-blind to not notice.”)

When you make it back to his abode, you find a bouquet already neatly wrapped up and propped against the wall. A sweet, calm aroma wades through the air, becoming more potent the closer you get.

Simply put, it’s perfect.

With this, I can move on from my previous embarrassment!

“Thank you again, Tighnari. I owe you one. Oh,” you gasp upon remembering something, “and be sure to send my regards to Collei.”

“Don’t mention it,” he responds with a smile and a nod to your request before bidding you farewell. “Be careful on your way back! Be mindful of your step and any stray roots in the ground. Wouldn’t want you to trip and tumble down, after all.”

“I thought we were past that already...”

“What?!”

“Apologies,” the scholar in front of you replies, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “Scribe Alhaitham left earlier in the day to explore some ancient runes in the desert...”

You’re pretty sure your heart just cracked.

“It can’t be...” you murmur. The bouquet in your hand feels heavy, just like your heart.

The scholar panics at your apparent dejection, wracking his brain in an attempt to rectify the predicament at hand. “When he comes back, I could tell him you were looking for him?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just... see him when I see him...”

You manage a small smile at his efforts, but the scholar only spirals into further panic when you trudge away with a gloomy aura hanging above.

I’m sorry, Tighnari. I’ve failed you and your botany skills...

Mission Status: Fail...

Step 3: Show him you can be dependable!

It’s a good day.

The sun’s out, the birds are chirping, and there’s not a single cloud up in the sky!

Yeah, it’s a good day if you ignore the stacks of paperwork piled up on your desk.

Dejectedly, you sigh and slump against the wood. You can already feel the forthcoming headache from just a single glance at the blurred words. Ideally, you wish everything could just be signed and done with at the mere thought. Realistically, you know that’s next to impossible.

...Maybe putting off your work and procrastinating wasn’t the smartest of decisions but, well, it’s too late now! Guess you’ll just have to suck it up and pull a couple all-nighters. Nothing out of the ordinary, unfortunately.

“Well,” you sigh to yourself, stretching your arms overhead, “good luck to me, I guess...”

(Distantly, you hear Alhaitham’s voice in the back of your mind reprimand you for leaving your work to later, but you swat the thoughts away without missing a beat and get started on the first pile.)

“[...me].”

“[Nam...].”

“[Name]!”

You gasp, shooting up from your slouched position. Though you come to regret the action when a sharp pang pierces through your conscience, eliciting a harsh wince to leave you. Immediately you fall forward and clutch your head, another pair of hands grasping your shoulders to steady you.

Huh...?

“Are you alright?” A cold hand makes contact along the expanse of your forehead and you subconsciously lean into the touch. “You’re burning up... When was the last time you rested?”

At the prompt, you strain your eyes to the left. Eyes squinting, you can barely make out a blurry figure, but the mesh of white, purple, red, and tan has you murmuring his name, “Cyno...?”

“Yes, it’s me.” His image wavers, and you can no longer distinguish his features. “You... last slept... hey... [...me]!”

His voice bleeds into white noise — drowned out by the world tipping on its axis before eventually it, too, is consumed by darkness.

Groaning through the overbearing warmth and fragmented light against your closed eyes, you breathe out a sigh and shuffle in place, trying to find a comfortable spot. Burrowing further into the duvet you feel yourself relaxing.

A musky scent surrounds you; one that’s warm and familiar, tinged with an aroma of worn pages and nature. The blends are few and far between, and yet they harmonize perfectly — its calming undertones help further relax you.

In the back of your mind, there’s a nagging feeling that there’s something you’re forgetting. But just what is it...

Your eyes snap open, heart lurching.

“Ah! The paperwork!”

In the midst of your frantic actions, a weight falls off your shoulders and tumbles onto your lap. Mouth agape and breathing erratic you look down, only to blink at the familiar item.

Alhaitham’s cape...?

“Lie down.”

Your shoulders jump when a voice comes from your left. Before you have time to protest, you feel yourself gently pushed back into bed, the covers lifted back up to your chin and Alhaitham’s cape draped on top once more. Though your movements are slightly restricted, you can still just about turn your head.

Alhaitham’s silhouette against the sunrise is hunched in your chair; elbows on knees, hands wrung together, and gaze focused on the ground. When your sight clears up, you notice his hair looks more dishevelled than usual.

You continue watching him as he heaves a light sigh and reaches over to his side. His hands wring a small cloth, water seeping out as his knuckles turn white from the pressure exerted. When he turns to you, the newly dampened cloth laid across your forehead, he doesn’t make eye contact. No, it’s more like he’s avoiding looking at you in general.

An awkward cough escapes you and he flinches ever so slightly at the sound. “How long have I been out for?”

“Two days.”

“I see,” you murmur. “Ah. Where’s Cyno? It’s kinda blurry, but the last I remember is him waking me up.”

“He’s busy.”

“Oh... Okay.”

A suffocating silence lapses over you after his blunt responses. It’s been a while since he’s spoken like this to you, so you’d be a bit of an idiot to not realise he’s mad. As for the reason why... Well, you’d rather not acknowledge the cause, even if you have a feeling he’ll bring it up sooner or later.

“[Name],” Alhaitham calls, voice low and even.

Averting you gaze, however hard you may wish for it, doesn’t help you avoid the inevitable confrontation set in stone. (That still doesn’t stop you from subtly lifting up the covers.)

His voice comes out weak and fuzzy against the ringing in your ears. “Why... didn’t you say anything? That you were ill? Were you going to just sit through it and not say a single word at all? Did you plan on pulling all-nighters again, even when you were on the verge of collapsing? What do you think would’ve happened if I didn’t overhear some scholars talking about how you fainted and had to be carried by the General Mahamatra?”

If this were you any other day, you’re sure you would’ve been over the moon at the sight of Alhaitham being the first thing you see upon waking up — taking care of and worrying over you on top of that. But alas, you’re sick and the string of questions he directs towards you does nothing but irritate you, the dull ache that previously lingered like white noise now blaringly clear.

“I don’t know. I guess I just—” you wince at the pain shooting through your head, “—I just thought there was no point so long as I get it done quickly then rest after. It was my fault I left it till recently.”

“Besides,” you add in a whisper, straining your eyes in an effort to stay awake, “you don’t like incompetent people, and I... didn’t want you to think that of me...”

“...”

It was quick.

One moment you felt warm and feverish, but now you feel warm and feverish and your forehead stings.

“Don’t be so stupid,” he retorts nonchalantly.

You’re dumbstruck, for a lack of better words. Through widened, bleary eyes you can just about register his unreadable expression, lips taught and brows furrowed slightly in your direction. A weak “What...?” slips through your lips, hoarse and broken.

For some reason, Alhaitham’s expression morphs. One of his hands tightens around yours (when did that get there...?) while the other reaches over to wring out a newly dampened cloth. He stays quiet, gaze avoiding yours as he focuses on wiping away the sweat clinging to your face while being mindful of the cloth already on your forehead.

“If you’re struggling, tell me. Don’t keep these things to yourself. And don’t...” he trails off with a grimace, and you barely catch sight of his lower lip tugged back by his teeth before it’s overshadowed by his hair. “Don’t ever think of yourself as incompetent again. You’re far from it.”

Oh...

Oh.

Out of all the things Alhaitham could have possibly said, you weren’t anticipating assurance and comfort.

“I... Uh... Hm. Okay,” you bumble like the fool you are, thoughts incoherent at the unexpectedly caring words. The only form of acknowledgement you received was him gently patting your hand; if you had the energy to squint, you could probably detect a teeny smile teetering the corners of his lips, but that could also be your half-delirious brain making stuff up like usual.

A cool sensation lands on your forehead, regulating the overwhelming heat permeating through your body. The sudden weight forces your eyes to close for a brief second and, upon opening them again, you find Alhaitham rummaging through his belt pouch. When he sits upright again, your attention is drawn to the object resting on his lap.

A... book?

“I’ll read to you,” he announces, probably noticing your blatant stare at the hardback cover now in his hand. He’s still avoiding your gaze, more interested in the book’s cover as his thumb traces over its surface.

There’s a brief pause.

Then, for the first time since you awoke, Alhaitham looks at you.

“It’s the new light novel from that author you like.”

“Huh? You mean...“ you trail off, eyes darting to take a closer look at the illustrated cover. A gasp soon escapes you after confirming it is, in fact, exactly what he said. “No way! You can’t even get this version unless you pre-ordered it months in advance! Wait, did you...?”

Another silence settles in your room. He averts his gaze to the side again, lips pursing as you send an accusatory stare his way, but shifts his sights back to you just as quickly.

“Enough talking, more resting.”

“But—”

“I’m opening the novel now.”

Despite your huff and low grumbles, you settle back in your bed and tug the duvet up to your chin. You listen to his low, comforting voice narrate the first couple pages, a familiar warmth vastly different to this feverish one washing over you. Your nose makes contact with the fabric of his cape and his scent surrounds you, coaxing your ailed body into a much-needed slumber.

Eyelids heavy, you use your last remaining strength to mumble your gratitude before drifting off, a content smile resting on your lips.

“Thank you, Haitham...”

Alhaitham’s breath hitches, eyes widening and the novel in his hand nearly slips from his grasp. His head snaps up to stare at you, only to find you already fast asleep with a few soft snores escaping you. He stays silent for a moment, taking a moment to process the sleep-induced words you’d uttered; namely the nickname you addressed him with.

Right. [Name] was merely influenced by the sickness and drowsiness. Don’t read too much into it.

Even after confirming that to himself, he continues to read the novel aloud to your unconscious self, replenishing the cloth at frequent intervals and staying by your side.

Even after confirming that to himself, Alhaitham finds himself unable to extinguish the heat that persistently clings to his skin — neither does the soft smile nor the flutter stirring in his stomach seem to have any intention of leaving; even more so at the sight of you burrowing into his cape.

Mission Status: Failed successfully!

Step 4: The fastest way to one’s heart is through their stomach! (Read: give them food.)

A lot has happened over the past couple weeks. Other than Azar and his minions being overthrown and Lesser Lord Kusanali being freed from solitary confinement by a few of your friends, Alhaitham is now the Acting Grand Sage!

Well, you only heard about this recent development from Cyno and Tighnari after returning from an expedition to decode some ancient runes in the desert. Not the welcome back you were expecting, but a welcome back nonetheless!

And upon confronting Alhaitham about his involvement in the rebellion you’d heard so much of (Cyno sure had a blast detailing his annoyance and praise over your last Genius Invokation TCG match), he merely heaved an exasperated sigh before adamantly explaining to you it wasn’t his intention to have his current position, but “Since everyone is so incompetent, I’m the only capable person who can take charge.”.

(His words, not yours.)

In all honesty, it almost feels like he’s still the scribe with how often you see him — as though nothing has changed and his duties are still the same. Though the same can’t be said with the other scholars and researchers, you suppose.

Recently, you’ve had more researchers come up and ask you to deliver papers to Alhaitham in their stead. Their reason? Well, it typically fell under one of two categories; “The Acting Grand Sage never spares us the time of day outside his work hours, and you’re our only hope...” or, “He wouldn’t turn you away or avoid you since he likes you so much.”

Maybe it’s because of the massive ego boost you’d gotten from their comments, but you now find yourself lugging a stack of papers that need to be looked over and signed, along with the freshly boxed up meal you bought earlier dangling from your other hand.

The journey back to his new office isn’t all that bad, just... a little awkward. You’re pretty sure the librarian hasn’t seen someone come and go from the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office-slash-elevator as frequently as you do, but hey! That just means you’re pretty special!

(For what it’s worth, you do kinda wish they had elevator music. Talking and humming to yourself can only do so much.)

Upon reaching the top floor and stepping off the platform, you’re greeted with the sight of Alhaitham leaning back and reading another one of his books. Ah, I feel my heart getting lighter at the sight.

“I’ve returned with food, Grand Sage!” you call out with a grin, waving your hand which carries the bag.

“Acting Grand Sage.”

“I’ve returned with food, Acting Grand Sage!”

A deadpan stare is all you receive at your quip, a sigh soon escaping him. “Why are you even addressing me with that title? Surely just saying my name is more efficient.”

“Because it’s fun, of course!” you merely laugh out in response.

A frown tugs his lips at that, eyes narrowing slightly before relaxing. He beckons you over with swift eye contact, and the chair opposite to where he’s sat is pushed back with his foot.

Wow. What a gentleman.

Plopping yourself down on the chair with an audible “Oof!”, you place the newly bought meal onto his desk. A mouth-watering scent wafts in the space between you, and you find yourself holding back a gulp at the delectable aroma. You quickly divvy up the food between you before glancing around the room.

As if reading your thoughts, Alhaitham nonchalantly says, “If you’re looking for my assistant, he’s not here.”

“Oh?” you ask between delightful mouthfuls. Swallowing down your food, you continue. “Where is he now? There should be plenty for his share too since I bought a lot this time around — or, well, I guess Lambad insisted I took more...”

There’s a small beat of silence after your words, though you barely register that fact when he speaks up again.

“No need. I’m feeling hungrier than usual, so I doubt there will be any leftovers to share.”

“Huh?” It takes you a couple seconds and a raised brow from Alhaitham for his words to register. When it does, however, you find yourself beyond ecstatic. “Oh! Of course, eat as much as you want! You need the energy for your Grand Sage duties, after all.”

“Acting Grand Sage duties.”

“Yeah, yeah, same thing.”

The rest of your lunch is spent in idle chatter and shared food. When you put more food on his side, he pushed his drink towards you or gave you more of your favourite bits.

(For someone who claimed to be really hungry, he sure was giving you a lot of food...)

Leaning back with a hefty sigh, you pat your stomach in content. Ah, Lambad never fails me, you think to yourself. Now that you’re done with your mini lunch date, it’s probably about time you head back and get your work for the day done. Your once content sigh now turns dreary, the energy you had barely seconds ago already dissipating.

Unbeknown to you, the corners of Alhaitham’s lips quirked up at your obvious dejection. Fist on cheek, he stares fondly at your ever-changing expressions; the familiarity of such a sight bringing him more comfort than he would ever let on. Eyes sweeping across the desk, his mood sours when spotting a stack of papers that wasn’t there before your arrival.

“Did those scholars bother you to run errands for them again?”

“Ah, this?” you drawl, head tilting slightly to view the contents. A low giggle escapes you when remembering the reason you originally brought it. “It’s because they can never find you.”

A huff escapes him at that comment. “Then they should have come during my work hours.”

“Apparently you’re never here when they come looking for you.”

“And? It’s not my problem they simply have bad timing.”

You all but shake your head at his antics, an amused smile blooming on your lips. Taking a quick glance at the time, you startle. Oh boy, where did the time go? Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Panic settles in you when the stack of papers needing to be sorted and signed appears in your mind. Scrambling up from your seat you spew out hasty apologies, too absorbed in your panic to notice the startled man you previously ate with.

“Aaaahh! I’m so sorry Haitham, but I really have to go! I have a million papers that need to be sorted and— gosh. How did the time fly by so quickly?! I could’ve sworn it was twelve just a minute ago—!”

“Wait!”

His voice is rushed — panicked, almost — and you find yourself unable to move. The ironclad grip on your wrist is tingling, even more so as it moves to envelop your hand completely.

His cool facade wavers slightly when you regard him with astonishment, but he gulps down his frayed nerves and steels his resolve. “Call me that again.”

“Huh? Like what?”

His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Haitham.”

Mission Status: Success?

Step 5: Make him... jealous?

Apparently, your sad attempts have garnered Kaveh’s attention (and pity). Why else would he be at your door at 4 a.m. and suggesting you use him to make Alhaitham jealous, all the while grumbling how “It’s so painful to watch you do so much, only for that guy to do nothing.”, as well as the addition of “Maybe this time I can finally get the upper hand over him and that infuriating arrogance of his!”

“Is someone like him really going to get jealous over something so...” you trail off in thought after he explains the plan he had in mind, eyes screwing shut as you try to think of the word to describe, well, whatever it is Kaveh proposed, “so trivial? It just seems like something so beyond him to get jealous.”

“Hah!” he barks out, settling back into your sofa and patting down the blanket on his lap. “You’re kidding, right?” When you don’t respond, he levels his sight with yours, perplexed. “Wait, you really don’t know?”

“Would I be asking if I knew?” At your retort, his face freezes. He seems to have come to a realisation, if the way he instantly sits upright has anything to say about it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kaveh intervenes, hands resting on his temples. “Let me get this right. You’ve been pursuing him for how many years now—”

“Five years,” comes your instant reply.

“—I wasn’t expecting you to answer, but exactly. Five years. And you think something like this would be ‘trivial’ to him? That guy??” You nod; he groans. “Ugh. You’re hopeless. The both of you.”

An offended gasp escapes you. “Well, excuuuse you! I’ll have you know I’m trying my best over here.”

“Unfortunately, I’m aware of that.”

He deflates against the cushions with a sigh, lifting the fallen blanket up his torso. A slew of unintelligible grumbles leaves his lips, and you just barely make out “I still don’t understand what you see in someone so unromantic...” before shaking your head at his antics.

When you take a glimpse at the time, however, a thought sticks out in your head.

“Also, why are you here at 4 a.m.?”

“Am I not allowed to visit you at 4 a.m.?”

You blink. He blinks back.

“...Did Alhaitham take your keys again?”

Silence.

“No...” he trails off, like a liar.

That night — or morning, rather — you let the temporarily homeless Kaveh crash at your house, discussing your plans on making Alhaitham jealous.

As a result of your late-night plotting, you’d somehow ended up spending around a week solely in Kaveh’s presence; as per the plan, that is. According to him, if you took some time away from Alhaitham, then it would “make him question that annoying mindset of his and force him to realise what a bumbling fool he’s being!”.

(Kaveh’s words. Not yours.)

Well, you suppose taking a break from his presence wouldn’t do that much harm. The blond makes for fun company, and you would never turn down an invitation from him! In short, this plan of his just gave you an excuse to hang with him even more than you already do!

You strayed from the Akademiya as much as you both could without neglecting your work, but the majority of your time was spent with Kaveh in the House of Daena, your house, or Puspa Café. And when Alhaitham was in the nearby area, or directly approaching you both, Kaveh would be quick to pull you away to a different spot. And when he managed to catch you when you were alone outside your working duties, you would conjure an excuse before hurriedly taking your leave. (You mentally apolgised to him each time as you scurried away, not daring to look back in case your resolve crumbled.)

Luckily, today, you haven’t encountered him.

With a much needed stretch after working through the morning, you turn to Kaveh and see him doing the same as a yawn slips past his lips. You’re feeling a bit peckish now, and you’re sure he is too. Plus, the weather was pretty good so going outside wouldn’t be too bad!

“Hey, where do you wanna go for lunch today? Lambad’s—”

Though, you barely get to utter the restaurant’s name when he pulls you into an embrace, arms wrapped around you as you both sway slightly in tandem. Instantly, you realise what’s happening.

Wait, we’re starting that part of the plan now?!

Sure enough, footsteps resound from behind you, a deep and familiar voice following soon after. “So this is where you’ve been. Strangely enough, you seem busier and harder to find these days.”

Kaveh parts from you a second later, but takes your hand in his. Instantly, you see Alhaitham’s eyes dart to your interlocked fingers before returning back to you. Kaveh seems to take note as well, and deftly swings your hands in front.

“Yeah, and what of it?“ You gulp at his smug tone, mentally preparing yourself for the incoming argument they usually fall into. “But you seem to have caught us at a bad time again, because we were just on our way to a date!”

...That wasn’t part of the script?!

His hand gently squeezes around yours, and you will yourself out of your surprise. Right. This is part of the act. Even if it doesn’t sit well with you, it’s not like you have many options left!

And so with that being said, you steel your nerves and turn to face Alhaitham. Not even a second later do you find yourself faltering when you take note of his expression — blank and slightly shadowed by his hair.

“...Is that so?”

“Of course. We were just on our way to Lambad’s Tavern,” Kaveh responds before turning to you with a smile. “Weren’t we, [Name]?”

And you smile back (albeit through gritted teeth). “Haha, yes, that’s right! We were just about to have lunch.”

A pregnant pause lingers in the air after your agreement.

(Is it just you, or did the temperature suddenly drop?)

“I see,” Alhaitham finally breathes out. He spares another glance at your hands before meeting Kaveh’s eyes. “Well, I hate to be the one to ruin your plans, but I need [Name]’s help for some urgent matters.”

A scoff. “What could be so urgent for someone who makes it a point to get all his work done in advance?”

“I can assure you it’s far more urgent than your... date.”

There’s a distant sheen in his eyes as he forces out the last word. The air around you turns frigid as the two men stare each other down and, if this were depicted in a show of some sort, you’re sure lightning would crackle in the space between the two.

An agitated sigh breaks the silence. The grip on your hand loosens.

“Alright, fine. You can have [Name] for your ‘urgent matter’.” Kaveh gently nudges you forward until you find yourself standing before Alhaitham. “If you do anything strange to [Name], I’ll come and personally sort you out myself!”

Besides the brief scoff and mutter of “I’d like to see you try”, Alhaitham spares you a prolonged glance before wrapping his hand around your wrist and turning away, forcing you to follow hot on his heels. When you look back at Kaveh, all you see is a double thumbs up with an agitated expression (no doubt he heard Alhaitham’s snide remark) that screams “I told you so”.

Well, that’s no help at all.

The walk to the elevator is silent. The ride up to his office even more so. And awkward. Very awkward. You’re probably the only one feeling this awkwardness though. After all, you were the one ignoring him this past week, not the other way around, so he has no reason to feel awkward around you. In fact, Alhaitham should be more annoyed than awkward...

Ah. I’m screwed.

The lift comes to a halt when the realisation sets in, the presence of his hand on your skin even more prominent than before. He still hasn’t said a word to you. And, if you’re being completely honest here, you’re not sure whether to be grateful for that or not.

There’s an unnerving silence in the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office. Upon closer inspection, it seems his assistant isn’t here today either; only you and Alhaitham stand in the centre (of his office, and the world). As your gaze flits across the expanse of the room, you note how messy the interior appears — well, messier than usual, that is.

“I didn’t like you when we first met,” he begins; unprovoked. He doesn’t turn around, and so you’re left to gape at his back. “You were annoying and kept hovering around me, even when I made it abundantly clear I didn’t want to be bothered. You were a nuisance; a thorn in my side and I would always get irritated at the mere mention of your name.

I never understood your naivety. Were you pretending, or were you really that unaware? Why would you go out of your way to make a good impression on others? Did you have to be liked by everyone so desperately?” A harsh scoff leaves his lips, but you couldn’t tell whether that was directed to you or to himself. “I couldn’t understand you and thought of you as a fool.”

Wait… isn’t he just straight-up insulting you now?

“I couldn’t understand you back then but now, I know you like the back of my hand.” His voice remains unchanged. Perhaps if it weren’t only you two in the room, the slight waver of his voice would have gone unheard. Then he breathes out a sigh and tilts his head back, still with no intention of facing you. “Do you remember? That winter back in our first year. The one where we were partnered for a presentation.”

(Oh. He’s actually talking to you now.)

“Uh, yeah,” you stammer, “that’s the one we were given two months to prepare for, right?”

He hums in confirmation, “Do you also know, [Name]? At the time, I considered those two months we spent together to be the worst of my life.”

...What.

Too stunned to even think up a retort, he seems to take your silence as his cue to continue.

“Your views on the world; your naivety; your foolishness... I soon realised they were all qualities I had merely made up, simply because I couldn’t grasp your intentions until I actually talked to you. Hah,” he laughs, bitter and remorseful, “it turned out I was the naive one, and that made me question my values.

At the end of our project, I came to realise it wasn’t anything to do with your disposition, but more so my feelings for you. I knew what it was but, at the same time, I denied them. I avoided you more than anything in hopes of them dying out. But... they didn’t. They only grew stronger, as if to mock me for my vain efforts.”

And then he turns — slowly, hesitantly — knitted brows and lower lip caught between his teeth. It’s bashful and shy and tentative; and yet you’re sure his eyes have never held such a confident and resolute glint before now. And now, with both of your hands engulfed in his, he continues on.

“Ever since accepting my feelings, I grew more aware of your presence. No matter where I looked, no matter where my thoughts were, you were always there. I soon came to value your opinion and thoughts of me when I hadn’t cared about such things before. With time, they grew stronger. More desperate. And when realising that just being by you was no longer enough, I... became greedy.”

(Alhaitham has a vague sense to stop here, but he can’t. He won’t let this chance to reveal the true nature of his feelings slip by.)

There’s a small beat of silence as he lowers his head — foreheads touching and noses brushing.

"I want to kiss you, hold you, experience all the mundane and extraordinary things life has to offer with you. I want to be there for you and grow old with you, and...” His hold on you tightens, angling his head to get a better view of you, and for you to see his glossy eyes and near-trembling smile. “And I want to keep your smile in my eyes for the rest of my life. If this isn't love, then I'll probably never know love for the rest of my life."

Your mind’s a mess; jumbled and incoherent. Unfocused, your eyes dart from every dip of his face to the furniture in the background, unable to keep your mind and concentration at bay from his sudden confession. His eyes bore into you, seemingly inching closer and closer; so close they’re all you can see, speckles of umber and teal that would usually go unnoticed becoming very prominent.

Somehow, he leans in even closer. Your mind blanks, throat parched and senses going into overdrive.

“Wait, Alhaitham—”

“No,” he interrupts, his unwavering gaze never once straying from you. “I refuse to wait any longer than I already have. I should have said this long ago when I realised our feelings were mutual, as opposed to waiting it out for so long.”

And then you hear it.

“I love you.”

“What...”

“If you need me to say it a thousand times over just so you understand, then so be it.” His eyes soften considerably, a smoldering passion now unconcealed and consuming you whole. “I love you, [Name]. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’ll continue loving you for even longer.”

You want to respond. No, you have to respond. After years of showing your affections you finally received a clear response. You should be jumping in his arms and professing your love again! So why...

Why can’t you say anything...?

The pad of his thumbs gently swipe under your eyes, catching beads of tears you hadn’t realised were accumulating. The residue follows the path of his thumb, dampening your cheekbones as his hands slide to cup your cheeks.

“Are you backing out now?” he breathes out, a silent laugh puffing from his lips. “After all this time you’ve spent pursuing me, and you go silent when I confess my undying love for you?”

“Ah, no, I just... can’t believe it, I guess,” you respond sheepishly after regaining yourself. In a haze of excitement, you turn slightly to fist-bump yourself, his cupped hands following your slight movement. “Your efforts have finally paid off, [Name]!”

Just then, a small “Bfft” rings out. You blink and cautiously turn your focus to the man wearing a stoic expression in front of you.

“Did you… just laugh?”

“I didn’t,” comes his instantaneous response.

(A bright grin alights your face at that, and Alhaitham finds it hard to not kiss you right then and there.)

“You liar. You so did!”

“You’re just hearing things.”

“Yeah, because I just totally heard you turn your head in a failed attempt to hide that laugh—!”

Your words are muffled, swallowed and silenced by his lips on yours. An overflowing warmth seeps through the point of contact. It traverses through your body, now hyper-aware of every strand of his hair tickling your cheeks, to the pads of his fingers searing your skin, to even the faintest brush of his clothes against you.

His touch is warm and all-consuming — and you find yourself leaning in for more.

(Strange. You thought his lips would be a little rough, but they were actually quite soft.)

Slowly, your lips detach. He lingers and hovers over you, everything from half-lidded eyes to his lips brushing against yours consuming you whole. When you try to move back to cool down, he follows; an aimless pursuit for your touch.

“I think you talk too much,” he finds himself murmuring, mind still reeling from what just transpired. Your dazed blinks-turned-smile sets his heart alight at such an adorable sight only he is privy to, as he relishes in the warmth diffused from your cheeks to his palms.

“Hehe, but you like it though— let gwo obf my cheeks.”

In the midst of your complaints, Alhaitham grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares at your puckered lips from his hands smushing your cheeks. How cute... he muses to himself, before planting a chaste, lingering kiss on your forehead.

“By the way,” he whispers against your skin, “your little act with Kaveh hasn’t been forgotten.”

“Uggh. You’re sho stingyy...”

“Hm, perhaps. But you like it.”

Alhaitham had never seen you with such a dumbfounded expression until now.

Mission Status: Who cares? You just won in life! (But also: success!)

“Ugh. They’re at it again.”

Aether and Paimon share a glance upon hearing Kaveh’s grumbles. They follow his line of sight to see what put the architect in such a state, only...

“Is that... Alhaitham?!”

Paimon’s cry earns her more than a few glares from researchers, scholars, and students alike, but that’s not the main issue. The main issue here is in a far corner tucked away in the House of Daena sits you and Alhaitham, the man in question pinching and tugging your cheeks as you try (and ultimately fail) to swat his hands away.

The travel duo had met you a handful of times. Within those few meetings, Aether had thought of you as someone sincere and resolute, whereas Paimon had deemed you as the “nice researcher with the tastiest food recommendations!”. And within those few meetings, never would they have guessed your relationship with Alhaitham.

“Oh?” Kaveh cocks a brow at their apparent surprise. “You didn’t know they’re dating? That guy is so obvious about it with how clingy he is.”

Aether hurriedly covers Paimon’s mouth before she could spew another set of cries that would surely put them in the bad books of the nearby occupants.

A beat of silence passes. A distinct murmur from your direction can be heard amidst the faint scribbling of pen on paper and the rustling of pages being turned. And then comes a sigh from beside them.

“Y’know, that guy’s been in love with [Name] for as long as I can remember, and probably even before then,” Kaveh starts, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you quietly giggling away at something Alhaitham whispered. “He was so obvious about it too with his blatant favouritism. And even then he never outright acted on his feelings — that were very much reciprocated, mind you — until a few months ago! If it weren’t for me, this whole thing could’ve taken another few years!”

Aether and Paimon share another glance before focusing back on Kaveh and his seemingly never-ending rant.

“Honestly,” he huffs, head shaking in line with his exasperation and still in his own world, “I still have no clue what he’s thinking. For all I know, he probably just wanted to see how far [Name] would go; that smug bastard. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

While Aether awkwardly chuckles at the tagged insult, Paimon continues to watch your shared interaction in wonder — namely the smile which adorns Alhaitham’s lips.

“Wow. Paimon can’t imagine a guy like him being in love...”

Kaveh scoffs. “There’s no need to imagine it when he’s so blatantly love-struck right in front of us. However...” he trails off when you nudge Alhaitham, the new angle allowing the trio to witness him chuckling fondly at your action before placing a kiss on your cheek. A light sigh slips past Kaveh’s lips, “I’m glad they’re finally together.”

“Why so?” Aether asks, head tilting at the man’s change in tone.

“It was painful to watch.”

“Ah...”

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

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#yaepublishinghouse #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact

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yandere-romanticaa · 11 months

Text

"How long do you plan on keeping me here?" you ask with a slight sneer. The man in question hardly pays you any mind as his large back is still turned to you, his attention seemingly fully concentrated on some flashing images on the screen that change every few seconds.

All those weeks ago, you had been swallowed by a black hole and found yourself in a completely new dimension and by some strange twist of fate Miguel O'Hara had discovered you. He would often call you an "anomaly" and would say how you must go back home but should stay here in the meantime. Traveling through dimensions is rough on tough guy like him let alone a regular civilian who had zero combat experience. He would keep you close to him and his office, giving you little tasks and chores to keep you from dying of boredom and to, quite frankly, keep you away from the sea of endless Spidermen who were more than curious about your person as a whole, which risked you picking up their bad jokes and stupid attitude and Miguel was just not in the mood to deal with that. You relationship was purely professional with a slight humorous twist from time to time. Miguel was so easy to rile up, how could you not mess with him? Be it rearranging his stuff, poking and pinching his cheeks in order to get some sort of hilarious reaction out of him Miguel became your main source of entertainment. His stone cold attitude always backfired and instead of running away into the opposite direction like most people do, you stuck to him like glue.

Without even realizing it, your presence became a sort of weakness of his.

He lost track of how many images he had saved up of you in a secret folder of his and he just liked to... watch them. He just liked watching you in general. His face was devoid of emotion, his attitude was anything but welcoming but no matter how snappy he got, no matter how angry he may get, he never got truly mad at you.

People like to say that the eyes are the windows to ones very soul and Miguel O'Hara embodies that saying perfectly.

He could be having the worst day imaginable but all he needs to do is to see you, to look at you in your own element and he will feel like a brand new man.

He can't help but to be a little angry at you, for making him so weak.

You distracted him from his work, his duty, however, he still could not bare the thought of you being by anyone else's side. He needs you like a man needs air and you were left in the dark when it came to that fact.

Good.

You don't need to know the extent of Miguel's feelings, you don't need to see just how hard the flames of wicked jealousy roar in his heart and you most certainly do not need to know just how much his soul weeps to touch, kiss, protect, keep you.

He can keep that facade up only for so long though. And as much as he likes to think, Miguel is not the best when it comes to keeping his cool. It is only a matter of time before the dam of his feelings cracks and spills, overwhelming you and him both. Once that happens, there is no going back.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yanderecore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere aesthetic #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #yandere spiderman x reader #spiderman x reader #yandere spiderman #yandere marvel #marvel cinematic universe #spiderverse x reader #yandere spiderverse

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cupid-styles · 4 months

Text

late night talking

in which harry’s quiet, shy, and always sends y/n tips during her cam streams. or: nerdrry x cam girl y/n

word count: 5.9k (wanted to get this out before christmas so it’s a bit on the shorter side than my other longer fics!!)

content warnings: sexual content (y/n is a cam girl soooooo voyeurism/exhibitionism is implied), smut (mutual masturbation, dirty talk/sexting, daddy kink, slight dom/sub dynamics)

please lmk if you’d want a part two for these cuties !

part two here

. . .

On a day-to-day, this is how Y/N typically spends her time:

She wakes up and throws herself in the shower with her eyes half shut. She eats some type of sustenance for breakfast, whether it be a granola bar or a warranted effort at some overnight chia seed concoction, and then heads to her main job, where her boss, Sam, has half her experience and somehow gets paid double her salary.

She does whatever's asked of her all day because she went to school for graphic design and she quite likes it, but only when Sam isn't up her ass, asking her to do tasks he's too lazy to do. At 5 pm on the dot, Sam is usually trying to get her to stay late but she's already on her way out the door. When she gets home, she forces down another quick meal — sometimes it's one of those frozen, premade things, other times she has the energy to make a veggie pasta or stir fry — pulls on a lingerie set, and sits on her cam site, where she strips and touches herself for money from strangers.

Her cam streams are her favorite part of her day.

She guesses she's some type of exhibitionist if she enjoys getting off in front of people she doesn't know, but it's a win-win considering they're voyeurs, too. Plus, when you put monetary tips on top of it — well, Y/N can't really complain.

She hides her face because her worst nightmare is her family finding out (that just sounds like a nightmare of a conversation to have with her parents), but she does have a few regular customers that come to most, if not all of her streams, are consistent tippers, and are always sweet to her. They ask about how she's doing and are polite in their requests, typically following them up with some sort of financial compensation so she has a reason to go through with it. It's not a bad deal at all — she enjoys her little community and the whole double life thing isn't the worst thing in the world.

Y/N's been doing this for about a year, so she's gotten pretty familiar with the types of customers that come through her stream, but there's one in particular — fleetwoodlondon — that somehow still has her stumped.

The thing is, this fleetwoodlondon person is far too nice. That's what confuses her the most. He (and she assumes it's a guy, because she doubts any woman would do this type of thing, but maybe she's just stereotyping) sends her tips for nothing in exchange, always tacking a bit more on when she's mentioned that she's had a rough day or she hasn't had a chance to eat dinner yet. She's messaged him privately, too, thanking him for his generosity and asking if he wants anything special in return, but he always says the same thing: No, that's alright. Thank you for the offer. Have a good night. x

There's a part of her that feels like it's bazaar, but there's a larger portion that's fascinated by him. She wants to know why he does what he does, why he feels that she's special enough to even do this in the first place.

It's a shame he's rarely willing to exchange more than 10 words with her.

. . .

Harry's days usually go like this:

Wake up, do some yoga or meditation, and log onto work. He works from home as a computer engineer for some large company that, if he's being honest, he doesn't really know a ton about, but they pay him extremely well and let him stay home all day, so it evens out. He's a diligent, hard worker on a small team of other shy, quiet people, so meetings are few and far between. On the occasion where he does have to present something a larger group, he'll stumble and stutter his way through a PowerPoint slideshow and take a puff of his asthma inhaler the second he's done.

When work is over, he hangs out with his cat, Beatrice, cooks them a yummy, healthy dinner, and watches TV with her. At the top of the 7 pm hour, he shuffles Beatrice off to his bedroom because he doesn't want her to see how her dad spends his free time: Watching a girl he doesn't know on a dodgy cam site, getting his rocks off, and sending her a large tip at the end of the night.

The first time he stumbled across her stream, he felt weird about it. It was semi-dystopian to watch someone in this way, knowing she was doing it live somewhere in the world. But she seemed to enjoy it and she had a decent crowd of subscribers and tippers in the chat, so it made him feel better when he eventually gave into his own temptation, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats and fisting his cock the way she'd been encouraging her viewers to do. And the thing is, he never planned to attend another show — he assumed he'd just go on his merry way and that was the end of it.

But he couldn't stop thinking about her.

The softness of her skin, the lacy set that covered her most intimate parts, the giggles and teasing comments that fell from her plushy lips. He couldn't see any other parts of her face, but she had a pretty voice, and he just knew she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever see.

And, in complete honesty, he really loved when she shared small details about her life. It wasn't in a creepy way — he saw the way commenters replied in her chat and it made his stomach turn — but it was just... nice to get a peek into her life outside of this site, where Harry had to click out of porn pop-ups and erectile dysfunction ads every 5 minutes.

Hearing that she saw a cute dog on her way home from work or she got a free cookie with her lunch today was what reminded him that she was just another human, doing her best, the same way he was. And maybe it was true that he could never get her to pay attention to him in real life, but at least on this platform, he stood a chance.

Harry had more money than he knew what to do with. He lived a comfortable life, he didn't have a partner or kids, and his savings account was plentiful. If he sent moan-a-lisa (the first time he read her username, he did smirk at the playful pun) a decent tip at the end of the night, he wouldn't feel bad about it. His money could be going to worse places.

It was only when she started to message him privately that he started to panic.

About once a week, she would thank him profusely and ask if he wanted something in return — a custom video, pictures, even a phone call. But when he thought about it, he was just too anxious and scared — he felt like maybe he portrayed a slightly cool persona online, but if that wall got broken down, she'd see that he was lame. A computer nerd that stayed home all day and spent his money on a girl he'd never know in real life.

At least at a distance, she might at least think he's nice.

. . .

"Alright cuties, thank you so much for joining me tonight!"

Y/N watches as the chat floods with a variety of responses to her ending the stream: Some were kind (thank you for spending ur time w us!!!! have a good night!), others were sad and slightly parasocial (nooooo :( I'll miss u so much baby don't go), while the slight minority were just plain mean (stupid bitch u didn't even do anal 2nite).

"I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, 7 pm eastern standard," she says with a toothy grin. She waves them a goodbye, clicks the "end live" button, and lets out a sigh of relief when her camera finally shuts off. Her show ended up being nearly four hours long tonight and she could feel a warm bubble bath calling her name.

As she begins her post-streaming routine of grabbing a snack, starting her bath, and peeling the lingerie set off her body, she hears her phone go off. Almost like clockwork.

She grabs it and glances down at the notification. Unsurprised, her eyes scan over the message: fleetwoodlondon sent you $300!

Rolling her lips into her mouth, she clicks on it and opens the app. Immediately, she thumbs over to their private conversation, where she types out a message.

moan-a-lisa: please tell me you've reconsidered and are willing to let me doing something in return for all these tips.

As she's tossing her peach-toned lace set in the hamper, her phone dings again. She already knows his response before she even reads it.

fleetwoodlondon: Nope. Have a good night. x

She smiles playfully at his reply and shakes her head, eyes still glued to her screen as she walks to her bathroom. She shuts the door, lights her favorite candle, and climbs into the porcelain tub, breathing out a deep sigh as the warm water and bubbles begin to soak her sore joints and muscles.

moan-a-lisa: please???? im in the bath rn and could give u a fun little peek:)

With the exception of customers that pay for phone sex or custom videos, Y/N never produces off-the-cuff content. But the mysterious air of this fleetwoodlondon user is enough to make her break some of her own rules.

She's surprised when she receives a near-immediate reply — she'd mentally prepared herself to wait 10 or so minutes before he typed back, like he usually does.

fleetwoodlondon: Cute.

fleetwoodlondon: I just don't want you to feel pressured to send me anything. I don't tip you for that reason.

With a confused expression, she sits up to shut the water off. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she lowers back into the water, contemplating the weight of his words. In the end, she decides to go with her gut.

moan-a-lisa: why do you tip me then?

She's not entirely shocked when she doesn't receive an instant response to her question. She sighs, dipping her head back into the warm water. It's annoying, the way this person she doesn't even know is sticking around in her brain. She's not big on dating or seeing people romantically, so it's pretty unusual for her to be so focused on someone.

She tosses her phone onto the plushy bath mat on the floor and decides to enjoy the comfort of her bath instead of worrying over it. She takes care to wash her body and face, and when she gets out she puts her favorite skincare products on before brushing her hair out. When she finally looks at her phone an hour later, she sees a notification from the user himself.

fleetwoodlondon: I just think you deserve it.

fleetwoodlondon: But again, I never want you to feel pressured into sending me something just because of the money..

She shakes her head as she walks back to her bedroom. Pulling a pair of comfortable sweats on, she's still confused by the angle he's playing at. And while most guys would maybe weird her out, she wonders if she's being naive by feeling some sort of kinship with this person.

As she's contemplating her response in the darkness of her bedroom, her phone buzzes again in her hand.

fleetwoodlondon: I just like hearing about you. Knowing that there's just another regular human behind the screen, I guess. I promise I'm not trying to be weird because I know you probably get a ton of odd messages from people all day.. but I suppose maybe I'm just sort of lonely? And I enjoy the consistency of knowing I can watch your stream every night.

fleetwoodlondon: I'm so sorry if that crosses a line. Reading that back, it's probably creepy.

She has to bite her lip to hold back the smile that curls onto her mouth from his words. It's not creepy, not coming from him, anyway. He seems... innocent, somehow, despite being a frequent viewer of her streams. And, in all honesty, she gets it — she's lonely, too. She doesn't have many people in her life besides her family and the people she works with. She understands why her viewers come to her daily streams because she shows up for the exact same reason.

moan-a-lisa: it's not weird. i get it

moan-a-lisa: but if you're not interested in receiving content from me in exchange for ur tips, can we do something else then?

fleetwoodlondon: What?

moan-a-lisa: tell me about your days too

fleetwoodlondon: Really?

moan-a-lisa: yeah. i think im lonely in the same way u are. it could be nice.

fleetwoodlondon: Okay. I can do that.

moan-a-lisa: good:)

. . .

Harry doesn't entirely realize what he's signed up for when she starts messaging him the next day.

In theory, he assumed that maybe she was just saying that stuff to be nice. He knows she has a habit of trying to relate to her viewers and make them feel special. It was kind of her, but he chalks it up to that — that is, until he receives a private message from her at 11 a.m. the following morning. He's never spoken to her during the day, only during or after her streams in the evening. His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull when he reads her username on his phone — he's working on a big project with a few coworkers and they're on a meeting together (cameras off, of course), and he immediately chokes on his spit, excusing himself and turning his mic off.

moan-a-lisa: how's ur day going so far?

He swallows nervously. What is he supposed to say? Isn't there some cardinal rule about not revealing private information to strangers on the internet? (Though he thinks maybe that went down the drain awhile ago, considering how they ended up in contact.) He nibbles on his bottom lip as he quickly types out a response, trying his best not to overthink it. She's just being nice, he reminds himself, she probably thinks you're some desperate loser who needs companionship.

fleetwoodlondon: It's been alright, just working. Nothing too exciting. How about you?

He attempts to redirect his focus back to the coworker that's currently asking him a question about the project when his phone instantly lights back up.

moan-a-lisa: boring:( im working too except i kind of hate my boss. he's a douche

moan-a-lisa: what do u do for work?

"Harry?"

He stutters, clicking the button to turn his mic back on, "Yeah, that sounds good, Mike," he rushes out nervously, "I trust you, you know what you're doing."

"Alright, we'll move forward with that, then."

"Great. I actually need to take a break for a bit, need to feed my cat," Harry says quickly. "Let's reconnect on this tomorrow."

His coworkers agree and the meeting ends, allowing him to focus all his brainpower on replying to her. Is it messed up that he ended a working session for this? Yes, potentially, and he feels guilty for it, too.

fleetwoodlondon: I'm a computer engineer. And I'm sorry to hear that you hate your boss... do you have another job outside of streaming?

moan-a-lisa: yea I do graphic design during the day

moan-a-lisa: computer engineering??? so in other words ur smart as fuck and that's how u afford to pay me ridiculous tips so often?

He snorts to himself. He's always felt his job title sounds more impressive than it actually is. In reality, tech stuff is all he's ever been good at, so it was a natural move to major in computer science in school. He never thought he was particularly intelligent, even if his professors and peers insisted that he was. To this day, he feels like he's just a computer nerd that got lucky.

fleetwoodlondon: I mean, I wouldn't say I'm 'smart as fuck' but I do have more money than I know what to do with. So yeah, I guess that would explain the tips.

moan-a-lisa: i feel like ur being wildly humble rn

fleetwoodlondon: Definitely not. I just happened to find the niche I'm good at.

fleetwoodlondon: Do you like graphic design?

moan-a-lisa: yeah but i think i would like it way more if i could do freelance work or go to another company. like i said my boss sucks, he's kind of a misogynist and has way less experience than me.. not saying i should have his job BUT

fleetwoodlondon: ...But you should have his job.

Harry's stomach tightens at the description of her boss. Thankfully, he's never been on the receiving end of such treatment, but he has friends that have — one of college peers was even told by a higher-up that she'd never get a managerial role at the company because of her sex. It makes him sick to think about, but especially when he imagines her being in that position. He doesn't know why he feels so protective over her (he knows she doesn't need that from a stranger online), but he does, and it's weird.

She doesn't reply after that and Harry forces himself to be okay with it. Now that he knows she has a day job, he reminds himself that she's busy and doesn't spend all of her time replying to private messages on her cam site. It's a bit of a struggle to focus on his job, but it's a welcomed distraction so he doesn't have to think about what she's doing or why she hasn't responded.

He ends up working late to make up for the meeting he cut short and the time he took to reply to her messages. But when he peers over the screen of his laptop and sees the digital clock in his living room tick towards 7 pm, it's almost as if it's some sort of Pavlovian response, the way he grows antsy and begins to thicken up in his pants. He takes his time logging off from work and heats up a leftover stir fry from the night prior, swallowing hot mouthfuls so he's ready in time for her show.

Just as he's done eating and he's bringing up a private tab on his phone, he gets a notification from their prior conversation. His stomach pings with anxiety, his eyebrows raising in surprise when he reads the words: will you be watching tn?

He thinks it's a stupid question — of course he'll be watching, but maybe she doesn't know she's part of his evening routine. He swallows, fingers trembling as he presses on the notification and quickly types back. Maybe he's over exhausted from staring at his computer screen all day, but the flirtatious response that comes from his end is even a surprise to him. Wouldn't miss it for the world, he sends back.

She responds with a few angel emojis, his heart doing a flip as he reads the words she sent: good. i like knowing ur in the audience:) message me after and let me know what u thought.

When her stream starts, he wants to bite his fist. She's wearing a beautiful navy blue set that serves as a gorgeous contrast to her smooth skin. The bralette and underwear are intricate with sweet lace detailings, providing peeks of her nipples and the small patch of pubic hair that decorates her mound.

"Hi everyone," she greets with a grin. Despite the usual angle that only reveals a bit of her mouth and chin, he somehow feels like he knows more of her now. Selfishly, he realizes that he hopes she doesn't talk to other viewers the way they've chatted. "How are we doing tonight?"

There's a lull in conversation and he knows it's because she's reading through the immediate uptick of responses in the chat. He recognizes a few of the usernames who are also regular viewers, while others likely found her on the homepage.

"I'm good, thanks for asking!" she replies, rolling her plush lips into her mouth, "I didn't have too bad of a day, actually. Had some nice entertainment to get me through work."

Harry's heart stalls slightly. She couldn't be talking about him, could she? It's probably wishful thinking, assuming that she would think that highly of their short conversation.

"You guys are so nosy," she giggles, the sound of it making him smile, "Since when do you care so much about my personal life? Thought you just wanted to watch me cum."

As if that serves as some sort of reminder for her viewers, tips begin to flow in, along with demands in the chat. He watches her tug her bottom lip between her teeth as his eyes scan the messages too, stomach churning at what people ask of her. He wonders if it bothers her, but then again, he assumes she must have thick skin to do this. She doesn't need someone like Harry to defend her against horny strangers online.

"You're all silly," she murmurs as she rises onto her knees. Her thumbs find the thin fabric that hits at her hips, pulling the straps teasingly before letting them snap back against her skin. "Hold on, I have to do something."

For a moment, she cuts away from the screen, only leaving her legs in the view. Harry swallows as he lets himself examine her soft skin, fingers twitching at his sides as he imagines touching her — maybe even pressing kisses and dark marks into the surface of her thighs, too.

His eyes flicker up to a notification at the top of his screen and it reminds him to turn his phone on do not disturb. However, instead of finding an email from work or a text from a friend, it's her. She's messaging him while she streams, knowing he's watching. His stomach tightens almost instantly.

moan-a-lisa: are u watching?

fleetwoodlondon: Of course I am.

He watches as her lips curl into a small smile now that her body is back in frame. Her phone is in one hand while her other brushes up over her torso and chest and back down to her legs.

moan-a-lisa: what do you want me to do tonight?

He swallows harshly as she lowers her phone. She starts to reply to other messages in the chat, knowing it's important to engage with her viewers to keep them entertained.

"You guys know what my hard limits are, stop asking me to do that stuff," she says playfully, wiggling her hips slightly, "I promise, no amount of money will make me want to fist myself."

He snorts at that, momentarily forgetting that she's waiting on a response from him. Honestly, he doesn't know what's appropriate to ask of her — the last thing he wants is to make her uncomfortable.

fleetwoodlondon: Do whatever you want. You should get to call the shots for once.

On screen, she hums, though it seems like it's mainly to herself. As she plucks at the straps of her bralette, slowly lowering them down her arms to reveal the valley of her breasts, her tongue peeks out to lick over her lips.

"I really just want someone to dominate me tonight," she says, her tone dropping seductively, "I wanna be told what to do and how to do it. My brain's so fuzzy from being so horny all day, I can barely make a decision for myself."

Harry swallows harshly at her words. The chat instantly goes wild as tips quickly flow in, volunteering to be the ones to do it. She smirks, winding her arm around to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"Sometimes I just think about you dominating me, you know that?" she murmurs, pursing her lips as her hands find her tits, gently squeezing at her nipples. "Today at work, it was all I could think about... made me so wet, I had a mess in my panties by the end of the day."

His eyes are bulging out of his head now — she couldn't possibly be talking directly to him, could she? It seemed silly and improbable, but also... they had spoken today while they both worked.

"Maybe someone from London, y'know? I've always had a soft spot for guys with British accents."

He almost comes in his pants on the spot.

At a surface level, Harry is kind and quiet. He's always been quite introverted, he prefers to be alone, and he thinks he could go days without seeing a single person, except for Beatrice. But somehow — and there's probably a psychological explanation for this, one that he's uninterested in finding out — he makes up for it in the bedroom. He doesn't know why, but when he's with someone intimately, he just becomes... dominant. He's aware that his tastes aren't vanilla, like many of his past sexual partners had assumed, as spanking, bondage, toys, edging, and overstimulation are all some of his favorite pastimes. And with the way she's teasing him right now, it's only pushing him further to the dominant threshold he typically keeps tucked away.

Pulling their conversation back up, he doesn't think much or read his message over before sending it.

fleetwoodlondon: If you wanted me to tell you how to touch your pretty little pussy, all you had to do is ask.

He sees the smirk that curls at her lips through the screen and he swallows, wishing he could taste them.

"Yeah? You wanna tell me what to do?" she asks breathily, wiggling a bit in her seat. His cock is already throbbing in his pants as he taps at the screen, eager to respond.

fleetwoodlondon: Spread your legs. Tease yourself.

It's not even 30 seconds before she's shifted onto her butt, knees to the sky as she opens her legs. Her underwear is still on, covering her modesty, but she uses gentle fingertips to trace over her mound and down to the crease of her thighs. He watches her shiver beneath her touch.

fleetwoodlondon: Move those pretty panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are for me.

"Fuck, 'm so wet for you," she moans, echoing the words from his message. She does as he requests, plucking the damp fabric from her center to reveal her glistening lips. Harry wants to verbally moan at how gorgeous she looks. "Can I touch myself, daddy? Please? Want it so bad— wanna be your good girl."

fleetwoodlondon: You are being good.

fleetwoodlondon: You can touch yourself, but only with your fingers.

She dives in almost instantly, fingertips ghosting over her clit as her head falls to the side, slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure after waiting all day. She trails them down to her hole, where she's leaking steadily, and smears her arousal up to her clit, giving it a soft smack. She whimpers from the quick sting.

"Do you see how wet I get for you?"

fleetwoodlondon: Open yourself up. Pretend it's my fingers instead of yours.

She moans as she pushes a single finger inside, arching deeply from the sensation. With her bottom lip wedged between her teeth, she gasps as she nestles a second in.

"Not big enough," she whines, grinding her hips down against her fingers, "Can't— they're too small, daddy, need yours instead."

fleetwoodlondon: I'm sure you do, but I'm not there. So be good and keep fucking yourself open with your pathetic little fingers. I want to watch you cum and lick it all up.

Harry can barely take it, watching her take her fingers knuckle-deep as she falls apart on screen from things he commanded her to do. He can see her thighs beginning to tense, her jaw slack as whimpers fall from her lips, and he wants nothing more than to finish with her. Quickly, he frees his cock from his sweats. So much pre-cum is leaking from the tip that he's almost embarrassed by it — he doesn't need any extra lubrication, so he wraps his fist around the head, bringing the substance down to the base of his length. He groans lowly and sets his phone up on the coffee table, leaning it against a box of tissues so he can use his other hand to pull at his sorely full balls.

"Fuck, daddy, you're so filthy," she moans, fitting a third finger in. She gasps from the stretch and it makes his eyes roll back as he pumps himself, trying to match the beat of her own thrusts. "Are you— y'gonna cum with me? Please, I want it, wanna lick up every last bit of it—"

"Jesus fuck," he mutters to himself, pausing momentarily to squeeze his base. She normally makes him finish fast, but it's never been this quick before. He has to give himself a break before he bursts all over himself.

"I'm gonna cum," she bleats, almost as if it's a promise, "Fuck, it's coming, I'm gonna cum for you, daddy— shit, it's all for you—"

He watches with wide eyes as her pussy pulses around the trio of fingers deep inside of her, a slew of curses falling from her lips as she falls apart. It's so beautiful, even if he's not privy to seeing her facial expressions. Her whines and whimpers are music to his ears, and finally getting to watch her reach her peak is all the permission he needs to reach his.

When he does a few moments later, all he can imagine is her hand wrapped around his cock, fisting it quickly while she mouths at the tip to catch the warm spurts of cum. He feels himself, heavy and twitching and tensing beneath his grasp, involuntarily whispering out similar sentiments to hers: "it's all yours, fuck, it's yours, it's yours."

His eyes flicker open to see her sucking on her fingers, a smirk on her lips as she gags around them. Her mouth is drooly and messy with spit and Harry wants to fall over.

"Thank you, daddy," she breathes out, "And thank you for watching, cuties. I appreciate all the sweet tips. I'll be back tomorrow at the same time, 7 pm, eastern standard time."

In the blink of an eye, the screen is blank, she's gone, and Harry has cold cum resting on his stomach.

. . .

If Y/N's being honest, she's not sure what got into her last night.

She can't stop thinking about him — fleetwoodlondon — and how he became the dominant of her dreams. They didn't exchange any messages after she ended the stream, and she wonders if that made things worse. But he's all she can think about at work today as she pretends to work on a project for a minor client that Sam passed off to her this morning.

With a nervous swallow, she pulls her phone from her pocket. She keeps hoping that he'll message her first, but she's not entirely surprised when the only notifications she has are from her work calendar. Sighing, she brings up their private conversation, biting her lip at the last dirty text he'd sent her.

moan-a-lisa: hi

moan-a-lisa: how's ur day going?

In an attempt to distract herself while she awaits his response, she redirects her focus to the project she’s working on. She can’t help glancing over at her phone every five seconds, wondering if maybe she took things too far last night and he doesn’t want to talk to her anymore. By the time an hour goes by and her stomach is growling with hunger, her spirits are crushed as she leaves her desk to head downstairs to the cafe for lunch.

She’s pouting over a panini and a blondie when her phone buzzes on the table. She thinks her mind is playing tricks on her when she sees his username, only to realize she actually had an unread message from him.

fleetwoodlondon: Boring, I’ve just been working all day. Was just thinking about you actually.

With raised eyebrows, Y/N’s curiosity is peaked. She assumes he’s referring to her the stream — to be fair, it had been incredibly hot for her, too, so she fully understands if that’s all he associates her with. (Even if she has to force herself to suppress any disappointment seeping from within.)

moan-a-lisa: yeah? what were u thinking about?

fleetwoodlondon: I picked up a book about graphic design and iconic advertising. It’s really interesting and I was thinking you might enjoy it.

fleetwoodlondon: Sorry. That’s probably the dorkiest message you’ve ever received on here.

Y/N doesn’t think she’s grinned this wide in weeks.

. . .

Y/N and Harry continue to text every day after that.

It’s weird. She’s never had this close of a relationship with a viewer before, and Harry has never found himself caring about someone he barely knows like this before. They don’t even know each other’s names and yet, they’ve been talking for a month, revealing tidbits of their lives that their closest loved ones don’t even know. In a sense, the consistent presence of the other on the phone is the most comforting thing either one has ever experienced.

Harry knows about her siblings, the time she broke her arm on a swing when she was five, and when she got so drunk in college she threw up in her friend’s lap. Y/N knows that he moved from London for graduate school, he has a cat named Beatrice that he adores (and feeds right before tuning into her stream every evening), and watches Titanic when he’s had a bad day.

So, he doesn’t really get why he’s so nervous to talk to her on the phone tonight.

It had started as a joke — they’d been messaging earlier today, making fun of the fact that they felt like teenagers the way they were glued to their phones to talk to each other. Y/N had brought up wanting to hear his voice so she could finally hear his accent. Harry noted that he didn’t even know her name. And so, they made plans to talk on the phone at 5:30 this evening.

He’s so anxious he feels like he might puke. As he watches the time slowly tick by, he grips his phone in his hand, waiting for it to start buzzing with an incoming call. He wonders if she feels nervous, too, or if this is no big deal for her. He feels silly for wondering if his infatuation has developed into a full blown crush, but he doesn’t think he can help it. He really, truly thinks he’s fallen for her just based off of chatting with her every day.

Beatrice feels the tension radiating off of Harry’s body so she wiggles herself into his lap, nuzzling her head against his thigh. He welcomes her comfort, giving her gentle pets at the clock finally ticks to 5:30. His phone begins to vibrate promptly.

He takes a long, deep breath.

And then he clicks ‘answer.’

And he hears the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard before.

part two

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lexyeevee · 11 months

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it's wild to see myhouse having escaped the orbit of Doom People, because so much of it specifically riffs on doom in a way that is laser-targeted at Doom People, to the point that i just wouldn't have expected it to be nearly as interesting if you don't pick up on that stuff

right from the outset, "my house" is even a recognizable genre, because doom was among the first approachable platforms for creating a 3D space, and if you give random people the ability to create a 3D space then many of them will just try to recreate their own house. (i want to say jp lebreton even made an effort to play through every house map on the idgames archive at one point, though hell if i can find it now.) there was in fact already a "myhouse.wad", from 1995!

frankly it's incredible that someone (or someones) put so much effort into this map and then had the gall to simply post it on doomworld as "myhouse.wad", because that is a thread title that guarantees the fewest possible people will bother to look. there are posts in the thread where people outright admit that they only checked because they were surprised how many replies a "my house" wad got.

so anyway, okay, the "classic" doom wad experience is that you download a wad, it contains exactly 1 map, and it has zero custom textures or music or other frills. most wads from the 90s are like this; if you're lucky you might get a bad midi rendition of a metallica song. nowadays there are texture artists and musicians and everything collaborating on full map packs, but "just a map" is still kind of the default mapping experience and is recognizable to anyone who's been around doom for sufficiently long.

and myhouse riffs on absolutely every aspect of this:

• the music is the MAP01 music, Running From Evil, which is just the music you get if you supply your own map in the MAP01 slot and do nothing else. so a ton of 90s maps had this same track as their background music, so everyone has heard it a zillion times. it is ingrained into so many people's skulls. subtly fucking with it is a great way to fuck with the player

• the house uses only stock doom 2 textures, or occasionally light modifications of them. again this is just what you get if you make a map and don't supply any other resources, so the stock textures are very familiar. only later, with sufficient poking around, does the map introduce new textures, which really help sell the impression of being swept away to Somewhere Else

• if you take the exit, you go to MAP02, Underhalls. this is the expected experience because doom wads replace what's already there — you're not really supplying a "new map pack" or anything, you're overwriting a map from the original doom 2 progression. (there are ways to fiddle with this now, but in vanilla doom 2, the level progression was hardcoded.) so the "ending" of a no-frills single-map wad is always, always to transition to Underhalls. the opening shot of Underhalls is practically like seeing the credits. so roping Underhalls into the experience is completely unexpected, because Underhalls is the sign that you've escaped back to regular doom

• the super shotgun is "hidden" in Underhalls, in probably the best-known super shotgun location in the whole game, because it's the first time you can get it

• incidentally Underhalls itself feels uncanny, because the player camera height is higher than usual to make the house's proportions feel sensible. (part of the trouble with exact recreations of real spaces in doom is that the camera is weirdly low.) i was actually convinced that myhouse included a modified Underhalls, but no, it's stock doom 2 Underhalls, it just feels off when you're slightly taller

but wait, there's more

• silent teleporters are a feature from boom, a very early doom derivative that added a number of helpful mapping features and is basically considered only half a step beyond vanilla. so shifting between two versions of a space without interruption isn't completely unexpected. it's only later that the portal use becomes more obvious

• although if you're especially canny, you should notice that the second version of the house shows both the upstairs and downstairs windows in full, which is impossible — doom cannot do room-over-room. (in fact this is accomplished with a semi-obscure zdoom feature called sector portals — essentially, the whole second floor and the space outside it are a separate area, and the "ceiling" of the yard becomes a view up through the "floor" of that second space.)

• swinging doors are a hexen feature (polyobjects) that gzdoom inherited. (heretic and hexen were modifications of the doom engine, and zdoom started out as a merge of all three codebases into something that could play all three games.) they might also be in other fancy engines (eternity?), but they are very distinctly not a doom thing. if you're deeply familiar with doom's limitations then they'll jump out at you immediately, but if you're looking at doom like it's any old 3D game then maybe not so much

• recreations of other humble real-world locales are also a somewhat common theme, and remind me in particular of Doom City, from way back in 1995

• a very common desire for players is to "uv-max" a map, i.e. reach the exit on ultra-violence with 100% kills and secrets. if you can't do this, the map is (reasonably) considered broken. it is comically impossible to do this in myhouse, and anyone with the skill to create the map would be acutely aware of this

• the extra weapon frames look to be borrowed from the well-known smooth doom, which adds extra frames for everything and is just pretty dang slick overall. so it's not merely "ho ho, got you, smoother weapons" but specific integration of another familiar project

• this might be reaching a bit, but mirrors are specifically a nightmare in zdoom's software renderer because they work by rendering all visible geometry as if it were physically present on the other side of the mirror — and if there be any actual geometry back there, it will also get rendered and you will have a big fucking mess. so a mirror in the middle of a room is a laughable idea. this is somewhat less of a concern now that the hardware renderer is basically the default, but it's still a spectre looming over the very concept of mirrors, so the way mirrors play out in myhouse is very funny to me

there's probably more, like, the way it intercepts noclip is a stroke of genius and not something i've ever seen done before. but i hope you get the idea

#doom #myhouse.wad

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messrmoonyy · 23 days

Text

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl.

Unfortunately you were no different.

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you.

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover.

But no.

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel.

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked.

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday.

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde.

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest.

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin.

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either.

And today was no different.

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed.

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others.

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return.

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s.

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling.

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way.

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard.

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better.

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself.

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh.

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “

You.

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you.

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks.

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch.

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away.

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors.

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you.

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men.

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged.

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours.

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company.

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both.

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods.

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little.

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away.

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another.

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette.

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you.

Someone was finally listening.

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were.

He blamed it on his fatigue.

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been.

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked.

“ Really? “

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours.

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded.

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded.

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen.

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him.

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done.

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were.

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman.

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank.

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool.

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little.

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it.

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest. His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment.

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you.

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again.

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice.

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more.

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating.

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his.

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless.

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face.

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you.

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which.

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain.

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch.

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought.

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt.

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night.

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly.

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants.

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates.

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous.

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon.

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted.

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough.

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now.

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t.

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you.

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water.

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch.

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them.

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care.

“ I ain’t like that “

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants.

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison.

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved.

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw.

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were.

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it.

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did.

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make.

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance.

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “

“ no “

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked.

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him.

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again.

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you.

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to.

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs.

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you.

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other.

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate.

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew.

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted.

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired.

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it.

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him.

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined.

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips.

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first.

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars.

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well.

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair.

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks.

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once.

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell.

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra.

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little.

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers.

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted.

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips.

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly.

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it.

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back.

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him.

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily.

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh.

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might.

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch.

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm.

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you.

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing.

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed.

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him.

“ god- oh god “

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again.

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there.

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide.

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it.

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up.

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours.

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you.

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep.

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked.

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word.

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans.

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever.

And then he came to his senses.

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist.

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours.

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more.

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers.

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips.

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least.

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more.

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “

He sincerely hoped you would.

#ask and ye shall receive #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #x you #background Dutch van der Linde x reader #fluff #dutch van der linde #Arthur Morgan smut #john marston #javier escuella #Sadie Adler #arthur morgan rdr2 #van der linde gang

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razzle-n-dazzle · 3 months

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Almost made Adam Headcanon Yandere? You need to do it!!

ᯓ★ "Cus You're Mine, All Mine." (no shit I love you!) Yandere! Adam / Reader ignore my trying a little bit of a diff format

ᯓ Yandere! Adam and regular Adam honestly have a lot of parrels, at least in my mind they do, but they also have some key differences. They're both quiet obsessive and possessive in their own rights, and they both try and hide it. Yet, while regular Adam will be the type to completely deny his habits, Yandere! Adam will be quiet proud of them. "It made you stay, no?" He would ask with a cheeky, wide spread smirk on his mask. He stood behind you, your reflects seen on the dead screen of the TV, as his hands rested on your shoulder before trailing down to wrap around your waist. You could feel the claws of his hands slowly trail down, almost like they were touching your bare skin when you knew better; They weren't, at least not in this second, and yet it still felt as intoxicating as when Adam's hands did trail on your bare skin. It was almost his way of claiming you as his, outside of fucking you, and his gentle yet firm touch always got you. Even as you swallowed down some silva that formed in your mouth out of some unquenched nerves in your stomach, you felt safe with Adam. Even if his grin, which now laid next to your face as Adam rested his chin on your vacant shoulder, was slightly unnerving as he admitted to a usually bad habit. "And if I can keep you away from everyone who would want to take you from me.." Adam's husk voice whispered in your ear, "Than I think I'm doing my fucking job right. Wouldn't you agree?"

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who just always happens to know where you'll be and is there waiting for you; Not like he stalks you, of course not (he doesn't have to do that anymore),he just always has a similar schedule! Not like it's creepy or anything, most of the time he just knows you are longing for his company (like he's longing for yours) or just wants to make sure you're safe! Which is a no brainer why Adam was currently sitting at a nearby table, watching as you and Azrael, the Angel of Death, got some smoothies at a nearby shop. Neither of you had noticed him yet, he had made sure of that. He didn't want Azrael, and his god forbidden good senses, to pick up on him as he followed you both from the court room; And he didn't want Azrael to pick up on him now. It wasn't like Adam didn't trust Azrael, he was an angel and you could be in much bigger danger (like hanging out with a demon in hell!). Yet, out of all the Angels, Adam always had an yucky feeling about Azrael; He was always rather quiet and solemn, keeping to himself, yet seemed just peachy chatting with you and hanging out with you and no one else. Public or not it just rubbed Adam the wrong way. He better not be trying anything. Everyone should see you in the light Adam does, but no one had the pleasure of taking you home other than him. And that was a fact, whether Azrael wanted to admit it or not.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who is somehow both egoistical and yet insecure, despite all the conflicts they provide. You can tell, after being around Adam for so long, when he gets jealous of other people you hang around. He'll never out right tell you, unless someone crosses a big line, but you can always see the slight scowl or pout on his lips, even behind the mask, and you get the hint to get to his side soon. Now, it's important to clarify, you go to his side out of free will, he's not dragging you there unless someone is touching you in ways they shouldn't; And even then, Adam is only dragging you back behind him and square punching the sucker in the face for even thinking they had the privilege to touch you! Adam will shit talk the guy who tried to get close to you when you come over him, saying how he was much better for several reasons (one being that he was the original dick, and thus he would always be better than any man or women) but would oddly enough point out things you didn't notice. Such as, the way they dressed, the way they carried themselves, their tone of voice, who they kept going to, and he would go on and on until your vision of that person is tainted. And he would snicker to himself as you sit down next to him, allowing him to drag you on his lap, as he knew he successfully managed to warrant away another competitor for your love.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who knew, since day one, he wanted you and only you. It made Lute a little disturbed how quickly Adam had catch your figure in the crowd and instantly began to ask questions about you. Lute was sure you had gotten to Heaven in that week, she hadn't seen you around before, and yet that didn't seem to deter Adam. "So, I figured out who that hot Babe was from yesterday," Adam would tell Lute the next day as they sat upon the council, waiting for the next hearing. Curious, and a tad amused (as she didn't believe him), Lute would roll her eyes and amuse him. "Oh, really?" She would mumble, resting her elbow on the railing and her cheek against her fist. "Who is she then?" And Lute was certain she almost fell off of her seat in shock when Adam began to list your name, the mortal age you died and how, when you got to heaven, where you were living in heaven, possible family members, and some basic information about what you liked and didn't and your current favorite place in Heaven. She was sure Adam had gone insane, at least until he noticed and quickly gave her a cover story: He simply had met you in one of his favorite lunch places and you began talking and you two just clicked.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who will never, ever, hurt you or anyone you care about yet take out his frustrations on the sinners of hell. Too many times have Lute had to watch, and listen, as Adam completely shredded through Sinners like they were nothing yet flies under his shoe while ranting about the last person you hang out with that got just a little too close. Lute was sure that if this kept up, Adam would not only violate some of the agreement terms that were laid with Lucifer, yet he would obliterate the overpopulation problem by killing the sinners, basically, single-handily. She wouldn't admit it yet it terrifies her a little how deep rooted Adam's love for you is, that she subconsciously began to distance herself from you just to not get on his shit list.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who, after a long day of work, wants nothing more than to come home and lay in your arms all comfortable; And who is surprised, when walking through his apartment door with his guitar in hand, to see you sitting in wait at the kitchen island. "Adam, Honey, you're home!" You would chirp, shuffling off the bar stool and rushing over to his side; Letting out a soft bit of laughter as you noticed his slightly shocked look. Gently, you would take his guitar from him, asking in your ever sweet voice how his day was and if he managed to help keep Heaven safe. He wasn't sure why you had such an effect on his heart like this, on his whole body. Your single touch made Adam feel more alive than he did when he had been alive. Your sweet voice was like music in his ears and a drug he could never get enough of. And fuck your lips, Adam was sure he could kiss them for ever if you would let him. And so, when you reached up to take his mask off him, he would stop you. You were perplexed, a little shocked, as Adam raised his hands up to cup over your hands once they cupped his cheeks. Yet, upon seeing his face, the way it relaxed almost instantly upon your touch, all you could do was smile softly up at him. "Honey, come on, let's go sit on the couch and you can tell me everything that happened.." You would whisper softly to him, coaxing him to come and rest his body after a long day of work. And how could he say no to his darling? After this lovely, warming welcome, Adam felt like he should be the one praising and giving you such attention you bask on him.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam who waits on foot and knee if you ever need him. Yandere! Adam who would do anything to keep you with him, and only for him. Yandere! Adam who has charmed most of your friends and family. Yandere! Adam who doesn't force you to do anything but might play with your thoughts a little to get his way. Yandere! Adam who loves you more than he ever loved Lilith and Eve and makes sure you know it. Yandere! Adam who thinks, and half believes, he doesn't deserve someone like you and is selfish for handing you all to himself. Yet, also in turn, Yandere! Adam who might just die or go insane if he cannot bask in your love and affection.

ᯓ Yandere! Adam.. oh boy do you have your hands full with having him as your lover.

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ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #not proof read #yandere x reader #yandere x you #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x you #yandere!adam x reader #yandere! adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel lute

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tacticaldiary · 8 months

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can you do a ghost x head doctor!reader? kind of that scenario where ghost is like, “i don’t want a regular plain nurse; i want reader 🙄” and reader is like, the head doctor of the medical wing or whatever, and doesn’t usually deal with regular military injuries, but puts up with ghost’s shit anyways? 😋

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; Hurt/Comfort

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with the gauze.

"All you need is to stop scaring away the field medics." She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant.

Masterlist

"Ghost?" Her head snaps up from the clipboard. "What's wrong with him?" She frowns, pushing down the bubbling panic in her chest.

"He's asking for you to treat him in room Q42."

"Is he bleeding?" The urgency itches just below her skin but her cool professionalism doesn't crack. She doesn't deal with superficial injuries, only the most complex cases. She's seen it all. Mangled faces, guts hanging out, disfigured bodies.

So the fact that they were asking for her-...

Wait.

"Is command asking me to see him?" She says slowly.

The soldier shakes his head. "No ma'am. It was a request from the Lieutenant himself."

She releases a slow exhale, relief tingling. "I'll see to it." She dismisses him with a wave, starting down the hall.

Simon had this...habit of seeking her out. It was a perk of his rank, she supposes, but she'd been the only one to treat him ever since they'd encountered each other way back when she was an on-site combat nurse.

It's impossible to forget seeing him for the first time. That skull mask of his was splattered blood red, a bullet wound in his shoulder as he sat on one of the dusty cots in the emergency tents they'd set up in the middle of the desert.

They'd just clicked.

She ended up treating him again after that, and that's when he started personally requesting her.

It hadn't taken long for the spark between them to explode into something intense and loving. He was the anchor to her stressful life, unshakable and a steady presence. She was his person, one of the only people he trusted with his injuries and his heart, the warmth that let him focus on being better.

Swinging open the door without knocking, the man in question sits there in all his glory in front of her.

Admittedly, the first she stares at is his chest. He's shirtless, a cut that she can tell is superficial and non-fatal from all the way by the door.

"You can come inside." His voice is amused and knowing, the bastard.

"Inviting me into my own house?" She swallows, but listens. The door is kicked shut behind her. The moment it's closed he tugs off his mask, the weary lines of his face much more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. "How was your op?" Stopping by the cot he's sitting on to press a quick kiss to his sweaty head, she breezes past him to the medical trolley nearby.

"Fine. Did what we had to." They both know he won't volunteer any more information. Just as she doesn't confide in him with every horrific injury she deals with, he doesn't expose her to the horrific things he has to do. A mutual withholding of information for the peace of mind of both parties.

"Thought you weren't due to come home until tomorrow. I was gonna meet you on the tarmac and everything."

"Surprise." He deadpans, making her snicker.

"You know, for the big bad Ghost you are, you sure need to cause such a fuss about a little cut." Gathering what she needs, she casts him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thought it was your job to make sure I was in the best state possible for deployment?"

She loves this back-and-forth they have. He does too, if the relaxed way he leans back on his arms is anything to go by. It had taken years and years to get to the place they are right now. Years of work, of communication and trust.

"It's my job to take care of the worst, highest profile cases."

"I'd say this is pretty urgent." This playful side of him came out when they were alone.

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with her spoils.

"Can I prescribe you to stop scaring away the field medics?" She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant. He doesn't wince or cringe or even flinch at the burn, eyes fixed on her face as she works.

"I'm a Lieutenant, I can do what I want."

She pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really pulling rank on me right now?"

He hums, sliding up to hold her hips, tugging her closer. "Don't seem to mind it when we're alone, love." A smirk tugs at his mouth when a flush creeps up the back of her neck. God, he loves that look on her.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking her head but unable to push down a smile, she works on securing the gauze, taping it down. "Getting clingy, are we now?"

He...well he can't deny it. He doesn't want to tell her the reason for it either, even if she's subtly fishing for answers.

He'd been an inch away from getting shredded by flying shrapnel from a car bomb today.

If Gaz, quick-witted, sharp, Gaz hadn't yelled and yanked him to cover behind a brick wall he would've been embedded with scraps of metal and rusty nails.

Dead, as his namesake.

Ghost wasn't afraid of death. Ghost got up every day ready to not see the sunrise again. Ghost was a cold blooded machine ready to do whatever his orders were.

But Simon wanted to live.

Simon wanted to come home to her. Simon wanted the last thing he saw to be her smile. Simon selfishly wanted her more than any victory his rifle could earn him.

Ghost had been unfazed, Simon had realised the inevitability of the avoided consequence.

Lips press against his bare shoulder. Right, left, and then gently on the gauze. It brings him back to the present, his grip on her tightens for a moment. Her gaze is soft, knowing. Because of course it is. She's the only one who's been able to get into his head like this, been able to crack the code to thoughts he himself doesn't have the key for.

"Any of other glaringly dangerous injuries I need to take a look at?" His eyes follow the smooth line of her neck as she tilts her head towards him. He exhales, shifts, and pulls her closer without warning, banding a strong arm around her.

"Dunno. Think you might have to conduct a comprehensive examination."

She laughs against his lips and goes down with him when he shifts farther up the cot.

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(1/09/2023)

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skyahri · 1 month

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Robes |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Your relationship with Zuko and how your friends found out.

Warnings: Implied intamacy???? Bed sharing. Kissing.

- - - - -

You were well acquainted with the Gaang. You'd served as a sort of double agent for them during the war once Zuko had teamed up with them. He knew they'd need some inside information, so he contacted you, knowing full well your ideals did not align with the fire nation.

You're the daughter of the prestigious Admiral Zhou, a ruthless military head who wouldn't hesitate to turn you in if he found out you were leaking information to the enemy.

It was easy to keep them updated. Your father had an ego the size of the moon, always going on and on about his achievements and new findings and whatnot. He was never home for long, leaving you in your mother's care and making it easy to sneak away. You mostly sent messenger Hawks, but once they'd infiltrated the fire nation you met in person.

You mostly met with Zuko, but occasionally, Sokka or Aang would take his place. You didn't mind. It was nice seeing more of the people you were risking your life for.

After the war, once Zuko took over as Fire Lord, he invited you to be a part of his cabinet. You weren't sure why, seeing as how the other members have some sort of military or consulting experience, and you're just a teenager who sent letters.

Strategy meetings were weekly, so you saw Zuko more often than any of the others. They visited when they could, but with the long list of air temple repairs, it was difficult to make time.

Not that you minded. You loved spending time with him, with or without the rest of the entourage.

Zuko was always accommodating to you, even going as far as to offer you a room in the palace 'if you ever need it.' He'd had the room fully furnished and closet stocked with spare outfits.

Occasionally, if meetings ran long, you'd stay in said room. It was a luxury the other members weren't granted, and honestly, it made you feel special.

When all the immediate post-war issues finally calmed down and Zuko had more free time, he always asked you to stick around or come keep him company.

He's the fire lord. He can't easily leave the palace, especially to do regular teenager things like laze around the shops or sneak into theaters, so you were limited to what the palace could offer.

You'd taken to gardening with him, something Zuko found very alluring. You played board games, baked pastries, and anything else you two could come up with.

Before long, you found yourself spending most of your time with him on the property. Occasional sleepovers quickly become several times a week. It wasn't long before you basically lived there, so you bit the bullet and brought the rest of your stuff to the palace.

Within a few months, you shared a kiss near the pond in the garden. Things slowly escalated over the next year or so. That first nervous kiss became the norm. You shared dinners and late night talks, often going so far into the night you'd just crash in his bed.

Before long, your room became obsolete. Your bed was hardly ever touched, your clothes were in his closet, items in his drawers, and toiletries in his restroom.

You'd heard the staff gossip from time to time, which you didn't necessarily mind, but it definitely made you blush. It felt like getting caught despite doing nothing wrong.

For a while, Katara would tease you mercilessly. She didn't know anything, or at least didn't lead you to believe she did. She just liked the idea of everyone finding someone, and you were the only girl Zuko ever talked to.

You went out of your way to cover up the obvious aspects of your relationship when your friends were around. You agreed early on to keep things under wraps, not wanting to harm the groups dynamic if things didn't work out.

But that was almost a year and half ago, and now it felt wrong to say anything. Like you had betrayed their trust somehow. You felt bad for lying to your friends about what was going on, but honestly, neither of you could bring yourself to admit the two of you had been dishonest for so long.

You woke up and patted the bed beside you. It was still warm, but Zuko wasn't there. You got up and picked up a robe off the floor to cover your nightwear. It was unlike him to leave without even waking you, so you'd go see what he was up to.

You exited his quarters and immediately saw the entire Gaang. They just stared at you in shock, having a hard time piecing things together.

"Did you just come out of Zuko's room?" Sokka asked.

"You saw me, didn't you?"

"Are those his clothes?" Katara asked.

You glanced down. They were, in fact, his clothes. You just stared at her, refusing to answer. Of course, Katara would notice they were his specifically and not just standard robes.

Zuko dragged his hand down his face. Of course, this is how they'd find out. Not after a long, thought-out conversation over a planned dinner or outing. They had to see you walk out of his room compromised after an impromptu visit.

They hastled you two for the rest of the day, asking horrifically personal questions and guilt tripping you into answering them. They bothered you for information about your intimate lives and dating preferences.

Late into the night, when the fire and excitement died down, Katara and Toph cornered you about the secrecy. You were huddled up in your room for a girls only sleepover when they decided to attack, giving you no choice but to be completely honest.

"We kept it quiet in case things didn't work out. Then some time passed... and we started feeling guilty about hiding it, and we just never found the right time."

"There didn't have to be a right time. Were your friends, not your subjects."

"I know. There's just a lot of pressure when you're with a friend who also happens to be the Fire Lord."

Luckily, you have amazing friends who understand people make mistakes. They squashed your anxiety about the whole thing, making sure you knew they weren't mad or disappointed.

But that absolutely did not stop them from holding over your heads for the unforeseeable future.

#zuko x reader #fire lord zuko #atla zuko #prince zuko #zuko #zuko x you #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar

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pix3lplays · 3 months

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While I can totally see the toxic side of a relationship with Aventurine, I'm so down bad and soft for him and in love with him that I want him endlessly happy so may I interest you in the healthy version of dating Aventurine...? 👀

I haven't seen anything of him past the conversation he has with Ratio in his hotel room but I HAVE had him spinning around in my head since his very first leaks so I have too many thoughts about him unfortunately.........

I feel like his main love language is physical touch. I can see him having all the love languages tbh but his main feels like physical touch. He just feels like such a physically affectionate person who'd wanna drape himself all over his partner or the other way around. But considering how shit his social life and life in general is, he most definitely hasn't had physical affection reciprocated like. Ever.

So a partner who initiates physical affection with him even prior to establishing a relationship would destroy him methinks. Thanking him for something and then you jump into his arms to hug him tightly... When's the last time he's been hugged? Especially in such an affectionate manner??? Never!!!!!! His brain would shut down, he wouldn't process that he should hug back and when he does it's too late, you've pulled back and he already misses the warmth.

A partner who holds his hand?? ESPECIALLY in public??? It's clear nobody likes him and his reputation precedes him and everybody is space racist to him, so a partner who's unafraid to show him off like he's the greatest prize they could have would also destroy him methinks. He'd definitely adore PDA, but again, single and sad lol. So if his partner is down for PDA, Aventurine is the happiest bc he gets to indulge in his partners affections 24/7 AND ALSO SHOW THEM OFF?? flex that even someone like him could be loved??? Absolutely!!! Your designated seat is always his lap and he always has an arm around your waist or your shoulders and he will always shamelessly kiss you anytime he wants and you return all of it back and make everyone within a 30k mile radius feel single as fuck.

I can imagine once he's entirely comfortable with his partner, he is SUCH a gentleman. Shoes untied? He's getting down on one knee to fix it for you, caressing your leg softly and planting a kiss near your knee before standing back up. No he doesn't care if he gets his precious white pants dirty. No he doesn't care if any camera caught that and there'll be an article with his name in bold next day. Tired?? Will carry you bridal style. Out shopping?? (and he'd definitely love taking you out on shopping sprees) will carry all your bags. Anything!!

He slowly finds himself turning into husband material even if he has not been an ideal husband type ever. He'll find himself wanting to cook a nice meal at home for the two of you, likes having you sitting on the counter looking all pretty while he works and giving him kisses as thanks every now and then, or likes surprising you with it when you come home.

Starts memorizing your orders at restaurants or cafes, will always automatically just go and order your favorites.

Begins to refer to most plans with 'we'. It just comes out naturally. "This is a difficult mission to manage, but we can find a way around it". We. Even if you're not involved in his work in the slightest. You two are intertwined entirely to him.

He never officially asks you to move in. All he knows is one night you slept over and then slowly it became a regular and his house is becoming filled with more and more of your items, starting with your toothbrush then your towels then some spare clothes and now you practically live there. And he's so happy at how natural and comfortable and not awkward it feels. Nothing forced.

Speaking of spending the night, the first time you two shared a bed was insane to him. Being held so tenderly, with so much love and care and warmth.. All things he's so unfamiliar with. He almost couldn't handle it. His favorite sleeping position is either burying his face in your back while spooning you or having his face buried in your chest. He likes your warmth, your heartbeat, your hands stroking his hair and the other wrapped around him, he doesn't care how much of a baby these positions make him look like. He's comfortable and he deserves it.

Showering together was something he wasn't keen about until one time it happened and you washed his hair and he almost cried. Gentle hands rubbing his scalp and stroking his hair and lathering the soap so calmly, he could have died right then and there. Then washing his body with equal amounts of care. He'd never been taken care of that way. He started wanting you there for every single shower, throwing excuses like "I can't reach my back I need you to wash me!" or "my hair felt softer when you did it I don't know how so you have to do it!"

His future is uncertain. But he finds himself looking at your ring finger and wondering what wedding ring cut would look the best on it. Sees you with kids and thinks it'd be nice to have that. But it's a step he's far too afraid to consider taking, with how dangerous his work is and how the rug could get pulled from under him at any second. He'd never want endanger you or a child. Those are things for an incredibly far future, but the thought of possibly dying and not ever having it saddens him.

As for his gambling, as predictable as it is... You're his lucky charm!!!!!! But also his self-control. You pull him out of it when he starts betting a little TOO much, and you switch his drink with water when he starts getting too drunk too. You manage him without suffocating or restricting him, he'd appreciate it.

If you ever visit him during work hours at the IPC, he'd be the happiest. Just an IPC secretary coming to tell him he has a visitor who claims to be his partner and he's almost flying out of his chair like "let them in let them in!!!". Poor anyone around, because you will not be spared from Aventurine's kisses. He doesn't care who's there. In fact, if Topaz or Dr. Ratio are there, it's even better. He'd like to silently rub it in. And If you made him lunch and had come to drop it off???? He may actually just ask to marry you,, being taken care of is something he loves. Something he could get used to.

His job requires things to get dirty often. He's told you the details but you still stay. He sometimes wonders if you'll eventually snap out of this daze and realize what you've gotten yourself into. See his true colors and hate him and leave him. He thinks the day he came back home covered in blood that wasn't his own would be the final straw. But it somehow wasn't. He came fully expecting you to scream, yell, get angry, get upset, break up with him and leave. But you didn't. You just gave him a sympathetic look before dragging him to the bathroom. You tended to any injury with love, took his clothes off with care. Put what can be washed in the washing machine and threw what couldn't be to the side. Got him in the shower and helped clean him up. Dried his hair afterwards and got him in bed. Told him he should rest, he must be tired. Why do you still love him?? He's no good. He took someone's life today and you're worried about whether or not he's tired??? He won't ever understand what you see in him. But he's so grateful, he'd want to keep repaying you for your love.

And his birthdays.... If you throw him a surprise party, he'll cry. For sure. Does this guy look like anybody remembers or celebrates his birthday? He probably spends them getting wasted in some bar after blowing a couple of millions on a gambling table. A cake, decorations, gifts... You'd make that day special. Like a birthday should be.

He'd feel more and more like a human with you. Not like an object that can be used and discarded when no longer useful. A person. With feelings.

He'd get jealous. Cry in your arms. Say "tell me I'm yours". Begging for reassurance.

"You don't belong to anyone. I love you" you'd answer. And he'd break.

He doesn't know what it's like to not be owned. A slave. He doesn't know what it's like to be loved. Unconditionally.

He thinks you deserve better. But he can't let anyone else have you. So he becomes better.

Sorry this is soooo incredibly long and self-indulgent but I've been so obsessed for MONTHS this is so much pent up thoughts.... I'm so Normal about him <3

Yes you may absolutely interest me in a healthy relationship with Aventurine and I think every Aventurine fan needs to read this immediately-

The part about him coming home after a ‘work related incident’ had me SCREAMING oh my gosh

Like yeah coming to terms with the fact that Aventurine hurts people would be REALLY hard but you love him enough to trust him???

He definitely strikes me as the type who literally cannot imagine receiving anything without giving so to have someone just openly show him so much kindness without expecting something in return is literally shaking his world??

And yes physical touch Aventurine is so real- I have another ask proposing touch-starved Aventurine and that. Yeah that makes sense. Him counteracting that by being So physically affectionate just makes sense to me haha. He’s very in denial that he’s touch-starved haha…

Thank you for the food, I ENJOYED IT A LOT💕💕

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Aventurine #Aventurine x reader #Hsr Aventurine x reader #honkai star rail Aventurine x reader

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astrologylunadream · 3 months

Text

How Your Person Would Describe You🍨🗣💭 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hey it's Lunadream🖤 In this reading you will find how your person would talk about you/describe you to others.

Omg and I just realized my current number of follows is 888 so powerful energy up in here. (thank you all so much for that💞) hope you find your message🌸

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of that beautiful person on your mind, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling drawn to~💭

Pile 1🧁

Pile 2🍨

Pile 3🐈‍⬛

Pile 4👛

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 👀

Pile 1🧁

Sign energy: Water, Fancy, Hair, Avoidance, Options, Chiron, Pisces, 8th house, Vertex, Mercury,🙅‍♂️🏚🟧🧖‍♀️

🖤Your person's energy: I'm sensing that this is an emotional individual, even if they don't show it. They might be more serious to others, but they have feelings themselves. Dominant energy of Pisces, Scorpio, Virgo and Gemini, for some of you pisces mercury or chiron conjunct mercury is significant. I feel like they have a closed off demeanor and some people may expect them to be cold or in a bad mood. This person likely changes their hair a lot, could be drastically like the color. Their hair may be very attractive to you😍 Your person may often avoid things they aren't ready for, not necessarily indecisive but just very avoidant. This could be because they have been through a lot of damage in the past, they have a lot of emotions built up and they have been hurt with others words.😥 They may not enjoy classy events or that could be a regular thing for them that they can't stand. Because I'm picking up for some of you this person is higher class. The color orange may be significant. For some of you this person is avoiding you, I'm hearing they're running out of options take what resonates whatever that means for you. You have a deep attraction and infatuation with this person, but I'm getting that they are more so reserved when it comes to intimate relationships. So they push back a bit if you approach them, They're a heavy thinker and may expect issues to occur if they get involved in a romantic connection. They get lost in their thoughts sometimes, but they have a really aesthetic voice.💗

💬How they would describe you: Energy, Mindfulness, Decay, Lilith, Tears, Fire, 1st house, 2nd house, Virgo, Pluto, 🟩🫂🥱🎸 Okay so your person would describe you as someone who has a very bright and youthful vibe to them, and there's a spark of determination in your eyes. They would say you also have a witty and sharp mind, they feel as if you outsmart them. They're kind of jealous of you for it. But they think you are too hard on yourselves, and it tears them apart on the inside. Maybe you judge yourself too hard? They would say they want to give you good vibes and recharge your happiness.🤗 When you enter the room, your energy just radiates to them. I feel like they would tell others how sweet you are.💓 They would like to say you seem really smart, actually. They bet many people are jealous of your abilities. To be honest, they would say the way your mind works scares them a little, but it also makes you very attractive.😳 they would feel like your words could pierce into their soul, and get kind of intimidated. They don't know for sure, but something about you is just captivating. They would describe you as someone you would want to hug, especially when you're feeling down or low on energy. That you have a strong approach to the world, and put your best foot forward. They don't know what to expect from you at the moment, not exactly warmed up to you yet. Your person might need more time to analyze you, and see what you're truly all about.🔍🩷

💌Messages from your person: You need me now, They know, We were meant to be, Again and again, Let me adore you (How sweet🥺💞) Extra cards: Abandonment, Soft spot, Tight, Vent, Love song

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🩷

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the cupcake emoji~🧁 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🌸

Pile 2🍨

Sign energy: Outfit, Harm, Swim, Closed, Fake smile, Uranus, Venus, 9th house, 1st house, Jupiter, 🎭🦴👰‍♀️💭

🖤Your person's energy: For this pile I am sensing someone physically bigger, they have an outward vibe to them. I feel like your person just fills the room with their aura, they could be charismatic or seem that way to you. Dominant signs are Aquarius, Taurus, Libra, Sagittarius, Aries and Pisces energy. They dress very individually, I'm hearing no one in your circle dresses the way they do. It's definitely something thay catches your eye, they have a very specific style that's unique and fresh😎 Your person may be very drawn to foreigners especially females from a different background from them, maybe they wish to marry someone from a different country or language?💍🫢 Your person has a pretty smile, they smile a lot and many people adore their smile. Swimming could be a hobby for them or maybe their field of work for some of you. I feel like this person puts on a social face, they could be really good at hiding their emotions. You may imagine yourself with this person a lot, but they get a lot of female attention.👀 Physically they are attractive and well dressed. Your person is very social, they may not necessarily want to be but since they recieve so much attention it is hard to avoid.💬💫 For some of you this person is more of an introvert with a lot of friends. Your person has a very broad selection of clothing styles, they like trying out new things. Very expirimental person, they also have great bone structure I'm hearing.💪

💬How they would describe you: Rise, Surface, Focus, Queen, Danger, Uranus, Aries, Jupiter, 5th house, 9th house,👸⬜️🧣🙃 Ohh okay this is very interesting, so your person would describe you as someone very attractive😆 It's not like they're flirting about it but they do see you as someone very romantically magnetic, you have charms about you that they think many people would adore. So your person would also describe you as a unique and empowered person, but I definitely think if you asked them what they think of you the first thing that comes to mind would be your physical traits🫦♨️ Yesss your person would think that first when it comes to you. But also they would say you have a lot of drive and determination for enhancing your experiences in life, they would say you are fun-loving and unpredictable.❤️‍🔥 Also that you put a lot into your love life, some of you may want to date around and explore your possible romantic adventures and your person sees that as a part of your personality and who you are. They would describe you as a creative and entertaining person to be around, someone who knows how to enjoy themselves.🥳 You are a huge focus to this person too omg, they're really interested in you I'm hearing. They would say that they're curious and you, and willing to see what you're about. They also would say that you're a little wild and untamed, but also untouchable in a powerful way.👑💗 Your person would see you as your own queen/king, someone with a sense of self worth and achievement.👏

💌Messages from your person: Stop thinking about me, I'm so into you, Whatever works for you, Anything for you, I'm desperate (Omg whaaat😢💞) Extra cards: Last, Creativity, Hate, Medication, Alice in wonderland

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🩷

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the sundae emoji~🍨 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🌸

Pile 3🐈‍⬛

Sign energy: Long, Girlfriend, Perfect, Intellectual, Reach out, Cancer, Mars, South node, Saturn, North node,💆‍♀️♎️😭🧩

🖤Your person's energy: Oh so someone is definitely on their toes in this connection, like holding onto it so much😫✊️ Prominent signs are Cancer, Aries, Scorpio, Capricorn and Aquarius. Libra may be significant, that is the sign of relationships too.😮💞 Your person has a very soft energy to them, but also very capable like they are not a helpless or dependent kind of person. This relationship could feel somewhat out of reach to you or them, like there is just so much going on right now for you both. You may view them as an ideal romantic partner, or they have many traits you want in a lover. Definitely a more feminine and sweeter energy.💌🌸 Some of my pile 3's are dating this person, because I'm definitely getting this mutual loving and romantic interest from both sides. You may be madly in love with this person or they may be madly in love with you.😍 The intimacy from them could be the best you have had if you've been intimate with them. Your person is so caring for you though, like they want to protect you and give you comfort and love.🫂😇🥰 Your person is quite smart too, they are clever and think things through. Someone in this connection is trying to reach out or has been for a while, not giving up I'm hearing.😢 My pile 3's and their person are so cute togetherrr. They just fit with you in every way, feeling like your other half. The perfect boyfriend/girlfriend I'm hearing, it is likely this is the person you will start a family/share a home with!!

💬How they would describe you: Decision, Fashion, Surrender, Bedroom, Punish, Sun, Lilith, 1st house, 4th house, 12th house,👥️❤️‍🩹😘💭 Wow I was not expecting this, my pile 3's your person is just omg🥵 They would describe you as well dressed and hot, like you look good in your clothes😳 They would see you as someone more submissive and delicate, especially if you two are alone together. Your person would call you cute and hot at the same time (other things too I won't go into all that in this reading😭). They would say that you're good at like choosing the best options for yourself, lol maybe they think you made a good decision by choosing them?😂 Haha that's cute and I feel like your person would say you know right from wrong pretty well, you have a good sense of justice. But omg they would say you are physically attractive like they want to pin you down that's how attractive you are to this person🫣❤️‍🔥 Your person would say you're like home to them, a safe place for them to turn to. They want to punish you in a romantic sense (only if you want that I'm getting), I'll leave it to Interpretation but yeah a lot of intimate descriptions about you🔞 They would call you a dreamy and spiritual person and they really like that about you too. You are someone soft and so lovable to them, they would say you are theirs omg. They love the way you dress, you are someone they want to hug and hold aww. They would say you're someone they think about a lot, omg I'm hearing "this is the person I love" like that is how they would describe you my pile 3's!!🥰💗

💌Messages from your person: Let's listen to music together, Thinking of you, Anything for you, Keep going, With you. (So much thinking of you lol so sweet🥺💖) Extra cards: Poker face, Throne, Extreme, Alice in wonderland, Cold (Maybe some of you guys are somewhere where the temperatures are really low rn since it's winter during this reading.❄️)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🩷

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the black cat emoji~🐈‍⬛ Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🌸

Pile 4👛

Sign energy: Love song, Surprise, Desperation, Bad habit, Gossip, Juno, Mercury, 8th house, Taurus, Mars, ♀️💄🤦‍♂️🫱

🖤Your person's energy: Okay there is a lot of talk centered around this person, my pile 4's your person is on many people's minds I'm getting.💭👀!! There are main energies of Gemini, Virgo, Scorpio, Taurus and Aries. I feel like this person is kinda like a forbidden fruit to you guys, like you shouldn't take the bite but you're really tempted. Maybe they're said to be bad or dangerous, like you may just get this vibe from them that's like bad news. Your person may wear makeup or you tend to wear a lot around them.💋💄 Omg I feel like your person is the type that others think they are wearing makeup even when they aren't, their bare face is really attractive to you.😳 You may have a habit of falling back into this connection, there is definitely a cycle happening with this person. Particularly feminines are talking about your person a lot, and masculines are like talking bad about them that's what I'm picking up on. There may be gossip about you and this person, I think a lot of people are jealous of your person and the way they think and communicate themselves in a powerful and magnetic way.🖤 You may be desperate to talk to them, some of you want to marry this person. I can definitely feel that they are tired of what everyone is saying about them, there may be some gossip going around about you too. Your person is actually really genuine, if they like you they won't be fickle about it. They may be very honest or direct in their romantic relationships. Also they don't like gossip and rumors I'm hearing.

💬How they would describe you: Happiness, You, Dating, Worthy, Warm, Lilith, 12th house, Cancer, Aquarius, 1st house,💥🤫🗿🤤 So they would describe you as someone they care about omg🥺🩷 You make them happy and feel safe. They would say you are a good friend (maybe some of you are friends with this person) and also good to your friends. They would say you radiate a warm caring energy, some of my pile 4's are dating this person on the low🫢🗣 Your person would say you have the most comforting hugs, so warm and loving. They would describe you as a very spiritual and intuitive person, diving into the darkest depths of unknown and somewhat taboo or strange topics. Your appearance is comforting and sweet to them, and they would say you are so worthy of their time and love.💗 They would call you a unique and soft individual, something about you is so special to them. They would say you are someone they want to date, and stay with for a long time.😍💋 Your person would also say you confuse them in many ways too haha, you have a mysterious allure they can't seem to figure out.🧠✨️ Your person would describe you as friendly and sweet. They would say they can count on you with whatever they need, because you're reliable to them. Your presence alone would make them feel safe and at ease, omg you really just make their day I'm hearing.☀️ They could probably list a thousand positive traits of yours, that's how much they enjoy your existence lol. I just love your person's opinion on you guys, it's so supportive and loving😭💖

💌Messages from your person: You're ready for me, My one and only, Please don't love anyone else, Why so serious? I knew you would feel this way. (For some of you in this pile, this person definitely knows how you feel about them!! Any of my pile 4's date this person?😘 Cuz like they know you love them🤣🤣) Extra cards: Comfort, Escape, Locked, Money, Habits

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🩷

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the handbag emoji~👛 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading🌸

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

852 notes · View notes

theoldsports · 5 months

Text

Moody.

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.3k words

depression, arguing, manipulation/toxic marriage, fucking each other over, possessiveness. it’s tamer than some of my others in an objective sense, but emphasizes dark thoughts and internal monologue.

requests always open! thanks for your kindnesses. i think this one is more experimental than the others. the objective here was to show how both of them mimic regular human feelings because they know they should, but it’s a poor pantomime. two sickos with nothing else but each other <3 i think i am going to call these works the Truculent series.

Coriolanus grew cold fast and did not tolerate heat well. He only slept only in his underclothes and wore heavy layers at the first sight of winter. His alarmingly fair complexion meant excessive sun wasn’t in the cards. In spite of his name, his scrappy build wasn’t meant to cut through harsh January terrain either. His nails chipped at labor, and his mind grew uneasy at laziness.

The world was tough on Coriolanus and he was tough right back on the word.

There was little Coriolanus was designed to do. Many people were strong, or smart, or wealthy, or drop-dead-gorgeous, or violent, or talented. There was something about every person Coriolanus could think of that made them stand out. He could easily categorized people by them. Here was the group of people known for their beautiful voices; here, those who could benchpress four-hundred pounds… Coriolanus could not be quantified like that.

Coriolanus Snow had to take what was left, like a runt. He was only good at two things: enduring and controlling. Since those were the only options leftover for him, Coriolanus became the best at them both. When, like Coriolanus, one has been gifted such shitty talents and nothing else, they have to figure out how to use them well enough to win against everyone with a better gift. Eventually, he realized his talents were not the ability to endure and the ability to control, but actually the ability to win. Eventually, he won so much, Coriolanus forgot there was ever a time when he lost (most days).

(The days he didn’t forget were the Bad Days).

Coriolanus felt like he couldn’t get out of bed on the Bad Days when the crushing weight of his failures and his ego landed across his chest. He told himself he was done with love after Lucy Gray. Disgusting Lucy Gray, a name he never wanted to even think again. He thought he would marry someone he hated and be done with love.

But junkies and addicts quit every Monday anyway.

Once he found [Y/N] again after their childhood together, there was no quitting. He knew it was bad for him, so he married what was bad for him to make sure he had an endless supply. How he hated that familiar feeling of obsession, the feeling of being so desperate that he had to rely on something other than himself. Somehow, he would have to sustain the feeling without losing his girl like an idiot. Marriage was likely the thing to steel their attempt at a bond.

Upon waking up to the alarm that morning, Coriolanus knew this was one of those Bad Days. Maybe it was the weather, the stress of Games. First year as head Gamemaker had almost driven Coriolanus mad under the pressure to succeed. He reached over to turn off the clock that buzzed painfully at six in the morning every day ending with a Y.

“Coryo…” [Y/N] mumbled, hearing him stir beside her. The sound must have woken her. She tossed an arm over his chest.

“‘Mornin’, Darling,” Coriolanus replied, wishing he were dead.

[Y/N] immediately picked up on the flatness of his tone, but she knew better than to push him too far. “All good?” She asked.

Coriolanus grumbled passively. He rarely did anything passively. Coriolanus grabbed the hand over his chest and dragged it up to the side of his face to rest it there, but only after he had kissed [Y/N] palm.

“You’re affectionate this morning.”

“I just missed you. I’ve been busy.” He said dismissively, pressing his face further into her hand.

“Well, thanks, dear, but don’t you have work?” [Y/N] asked. She propped her chin up on his shoulder to stare at him inquisitively. This attitude was odd. First thing in the morning during Games seasons, she got a kiss on the forehead and then Coriolanus was gone for a run and a shower and out til nightfall, barring special occasions.

“Don’t you?”

“Not til early evening today. Normally, you’re up and out of here first thing on a Tuesday morning,” [Y/N] told him, as she rubbed from his cheek to the side of his throat gently. She dragged her hand up his face to rest on his worried forehead. “You sick, or something?”

“No.” Coriolanus replied weakly. He closed his eyes again. He couldn’t face the legendary blunder he had made at work. Coriolanus had allowed his aides to code the program for the arena wrong. The open water was nowhere near as deep as was needed for the aquatic muttations. It was causing all sorts of trouble. The Games would end too fast if he didn’t do something, yet the stress of thinking of reaching across the nightstand for his Communicuff was paralyzing.

“You sure? You don’t feel feverish,” She confirmed. [Y/N] sat up to press her lips to his forehead just in case her cold hands had misread his temperature. “I can call the doctor, though.”

“[Y/N], stop. I’m fine.” Coriolanus lied harshly. He tried to sit up, but his psychological anguish made him feel like vomiting.

“Call in. Stay here.” She suggested, watching his weak movement to sit up.

“I’m head Gamemaker, I don’t get to call in. I need to go for a run’n I’ll be fine.”

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow. “So you aren’t currently fine? Because you said—“

“I know what the fuck I said, okay?” Coriolanus barked. “Wanna recap anything else, or can I go?”

Sharply, [Y/N] scooted away from him to the other side of the bed. His moods were hardly predictable. She sighed. “Fine,” She said, averting her eyes to her hands like a scolded girl. “I was merely concerned that you—“

Coriolanus scoffed at her and shakily stood up from the bed. He quickly stepped into the closet and stepped joggers and a wifebeater. [Y/N] hoped he would grab a jacket as well; the weather was much too cold for mid summer. The Capitol itself got disproportionately cold often. She didn’t say anything out loud, though. “Get off my ass. Can’t you sit there and be grateful for once? With all that I do for you?Fucking hell.” Coriolanus said. He did not so much as look back at her as he stormed out of the bedroom.

[Y/N] could not understand what she had done wrong. The only things she had were provided through Coriolanus or simply the man himself. Once Coriolanus was presumed out of earshot, [Y/N] dropped her head into her hands and cried. Not tears of frustration or anger, but tears of self-pity that her one lifeline had yelled at her like that.

—

By the time Coriolanus returned from his run, it appeared his wife had gone out for the day. Strange since she usually capitalized on the extra sleep if she was not working downtown with Capitol News until evening shift. Since their reckless young adulthood of media stunts, Coriolanus had watched [Y/N] grow a stifling love for spectacle. With his support and their shared deranged name recognition, she had quickly risen from an editor, to a correspondent (brief. He had helped her but her way up and out of that position) to Associate Head of Programming for Capitol News. It helped to have his wife steer both their media narratives from the inside.

Except for when she was mad at him.

Coriolanus wiped the sweat off his brow in the shower as he thought. There was no doubt in his mind that [Y/N] was going to run some sort of primetime bulletin that made him look a fool during his Games coverage that night. It was bad enough that Lucky Flickerman was beginning to look like botox had gotten better of him, in addition to Coriolanus’ own fuck up with the muttations. Fact of the matter was that viewership was down and [Y/N] was going to make it worse. She was going to make his Bad Day worse and he knew it.

He could feel his heart rate racing as he stood under the shower’s cold stream. His equally cold blue eyes glanced across the bathroom at the clock. Six-fifty AM. Realistically, he need to be into the Gameroom by no later than eight-thirty, but it frustrated him to be in later than eight. In roughly an hour, how could he perform the maximum amount of damage control? Coriolanus’ head began to ache at the thought.

She had never run that harsh of a piece on him before, but it was a Bad Day, and no doubt she was angry with him for his attitude. [Y/N] was capable of a great many horrible things. Wouldn’t Coriolanus himself want to sting somebody back who he had known was pissy with him?

When he exited the shower, Coriolanus rushed to dress himself. [Y/N] said she wasn’t working until late. But where, then, had she gone? With all the thinking about his own feelings, he hadn’t considered that conundrum.

—

Coriolanus called her secretary, a boring woman with a name neither man nor wife could recall. According to that woman, [Y/N] had not gone early to work. He rang Tigris. Tigris said [Y/N] had not been over unless she was lying which Coriolanus wouldn’t put past her. The Plinths swear they had not encountered her.

Coriolanus stared down at his datapad of phone numbers. He refrained from calling all of their friends because he didn’t want to to exude the panic he was starting to feel for letting his wife run away. None of her belongings seemed out of place. Her suitcase was present in the back of their closet. Still, Coriolanus was terrified in the back of his mind that his wife had finally left him. A year and half was a dreadful lifespan for a marriage in his opinion. [Y/N] was not getting away that easily.

However, his watch told him it was eight and the Games weren’t going to run themselves.

Throughout the day, Coriolanus could not get his heart rate to settle. It made him feel ill. So ill, in fact, that he couldn’t keep down most of breakfast, or all of lunch. He skipped dinner all together. Who was [Y/N] to up and leave him like that?

The slight rational segment of his brain told him to walk it back, but the rest of his brain paid no mind. Coriolanus had nothing going for him other than gut instincts and his gut instincts now were implying something was fundamentally wrong.

Coriolanus’ decision-making was way off of its game at work. Coriolanus, for ratings, could not allow the Hunger Games to end on a Tuesday night. Somehow, he would have to create obstacles to last the four remaining tributes til Friday. He didn’t much like those odds. He was going to cave and hand in his resignation before the end of the day, he was certain.

Though, at eight in the evening, the primetime announcement or chiron that Coriolanus was a shitty husband or a murderer never cut through his broadcast to make his Day irreparably Bad. Nor did it at eight-thirty, or even nine. Coriolanus felt shaky. Maybe with relief for his reputation, maybe because he had nothing in his system.

If nothing had aired at Coriolanus’ expense on TV, had something happened to [Y/N] while he was on his run, or later? Was this some rebel attempt to bring the head Gamemaker to his knees? An attempt from a bitter rival to play games with him? Coriolanus frowned. Many things could have happened to his wife between six in the morning and nine at night. Coriolanus could barely stand up as it was. He clocked out and summoned his driver as quick as he could.

The second Coriolanus’ key entered the lock, he started shouting with the energy he had left. The door had yet to even close behind him. “[Y/N]! [Y/N], my love! Are you here?” Coriolanus pushed open every cabinet and closet on his way to the bedroom. Empty. He checked the closet - her suitcase remained. Coriolanus had called her office on his way home. She had not shown up for work. Unheard of.

Coriolanus ran through every room of the townhouse shouting [Y/N]’s name over and over until he felt hoarse. He could only imagine what the neighbors thought. Then he saw the attic door open.

The door remained open, but the stairs to the attic had snapped back up halfway and gotten jammed. “Coryo!” He heard [Y/N] yell faintly from upstairs.

“Darling, are you… in the attic?” Coriolanus shouted back cautiously under the open door. He watched as [Y/N]’s tearstained face peered around the edges of the attic door. It was really her. Not a Jabberjay, not a setup. Coriolanus exhaled for what felt like the first time all day. “Let me come up. I’ll come to you. Hold on!” Coriolanus’ finally left behind the Bad Day as he leapt into action. Protecting his wife was his job before Gamemaker, or any other obligation. Anyone in the Capitol would remember their vows, or her smashing cake into his face much to his dismay. Marriage was socially his most binding contract of all. Coriolanus did not take contractional obligations lightly.

Coriolanus had not realized that his wife was so delicate and helpless as to get stuck in the attic. She needed him more than he thought. His heart swelled with pride. Coriolanus grabbed a broomstick and hooked the hinge in the stairs. He yanked with all his strength until the ladder descended. Quickly, he dropped a large sack of rice from the kitchen counter over the bottom step in hopes it would weight the stairs down and he took off up them.

“[Y/N], are you alright?” Coriolanus asked, popping his head through the attic door

There on the unfinished attic floor sat [Y/N], bundled up in her thin teddy she had been wearing when Coriolanus left. She had only that and a too-short blanket Tigris had crocheted as a child. There was very little in the attic at all. Some of the Grandma’am’s belongings in clear glass bins and whatever surviving relics had carried on from their post-war childhoods.

It was clear [Y/N] had been crying. “I thought you would come back.” She sniffled.

Coriolanus urgently climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and sat carefully down beside [Y/N], wrapping her in his long arms possessively. “I thought something happened to you,” Also, that you tried to leave me. “You’re freezing… How long have you been up here?”

“Since you went on your run.”

“Shit… All that time?”

[Y/N] thought her tears had long since stopped, but seeing Coriolanus appear upset about ignoring her all day made her want his attention more. She wanted him to feel bad.

The tears started flowing the second his arms were looped around her waist. [Y/N] rested her head on Coriolanus’s shoulder heavily. “Coryo, you just left. I come up here all the time to think and I didn’t think it would—“

The blonde man’s heart softened at the sight of her. “Darling, Darling, shh, don’t cry,” Coriolanus combed his hand through sobbing [Y/N]’s hair. “You’re okay. I’m here now.”

Coriolanus felt like he was able to play the role of comforter and protector nobly tonight in a way he had recently felt inadequate at. With ease, he draped her legs across his lap and adjusted her arms around his neck so that her body was completely supported by his. She clung to him like a desperate child. The skin-to-skin contact was most appreciated by Coriolanus after the Day he’d had. Coriolanus excitedly drew a breathe from her neck, taking in her scent.

[Y/N] sobbed dramatically into Coriolanus’ dress shirt, but he pretended not to care like a good husband. “I’m sorry. I c-couldn’t—couldn’t get down. I th-thought you would come get me. I shout-ted for you,” she played up her tears. [Y/N] played up everything for attention; they both knew that. But the situation was mutually beneficial for people that liked attention so damn much. “You didn’t hear me.” You never hear me.

“Oh, Princess…” Coriolanus rubbed his hands up and down her arms, hoping it would warm her up. He pulled away from her regrettably and stripped off his blazer. He wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled it carefully in front of her. He knew [Y/N] would like the gesture. Now, Coriolanus did not say I’m sorry. It was not his fault that [Y/N] had fled to the attic. He did instead try to make good from now forward. “I was so worried, I started to think something happened to you. I wanted to give you space, but then I didn’t hear from you all day. I’m relieved to know the only monster that got you was the attic,” Coriolanus leaned into her neck to kiss her in his favorite place. “You sat up here in all this junk and dust today; how are you still so stunning?”

[Y/N] laughed through a wet sniffle as Coriolanus searingly kissed her neck. “I didn’t know I’d worried you this much.” She muttered.

“I didn’t know I’d upset you this much,” Coriolanus agreed. That was as close to I’m sorry as she was going to get. “What did you do up here all day?”

“W-Went through some boxes. Found your old uniform.” [Y/N] smiled back.

“My Peacekeeper uniform?” Coriolanus asked in surprise. He hoped that she had not found anything else, if there was anything more scathing up in the attic.

“Mhm,” she affirmed. [Y/N] stood shakily from the floor, snot dripping from her nose. Snot, which she knew better than to wipe on the sleeve of his blazer. She followed where the beams were in the floor nimbly so she didn’t put her foot through the ceiling below her. [Y/N] collected a decently sized metal crate with a handle on it. PRIVATE SNOW, CORIOLANUS B. was stamped on top of the dusty, dented metal. She carried it back to Coriolanus and sat down with it in front of him.

“I didn’t go through everything in here, that felt intrusive, but I did pull this out,” they both knew that was a lie and that she had absolutely gone through every item, but Coriolanus let her keep going without cutting in. [Y/N] decided she would still let him explain the history behind every item he wanted to share anyway.

When she shook the long gray-blue jacket out of the box, something happened that hadn’t happened last time she took the jacket out. “Coriolanus, what’s this?” [Y/N] asked, plucking a bulky chain off the floor that had tumbled from the coat’s breast pocket.

“Ah, I’d forgotten where those went. Dog tags from my time in Twelve.” Coriolanus said.

“I still have my father’s. You were like a real soldier then, huh?”

“Peacekeeper.” Coriolanus corrected.

“Yes, Peacekeeper.” [Y/N] agreed quietly.

[Y/N] held the two identical pendants in her hands.

SNOW, CORIOLANUS

CITADEL, CAPITOL

4147769218S 12

O NEG

CREMATE

His entire identity all on two pieces of nickel. While she squinted at the embossed metal, Coriolanus leaned forward across the box that had once held his entire world and grabbed the chain she was holding as well as her hands. [Y/N]’s red weepy eyes met his crystal clear blue ones. “Would you like them?”

“You don’t want to keep them?”

“Certainly not. My name right there on your chest? That’s preferable to them sitting in a dusty box forever. People will know who you belong to if you wander off like this again. ‘Know you’re not, hm, like… up for finders-keepers.” Coriolanus shifted them out of [Y/N]’s hands and dropped the chain around her neck as if it were the finest gold necklace he had ever purchased her.

Coriolanus put that box up in the attic because he had not wanted to think about it ever again. Above all, though, Coriolanus Snow was an opportunistic man and he put those dog tags on [Y/N] just like he had Lucy Gray because he knew this move was flattering. If it worked once, it would work again. Sickeningly, he pulled out the same words he had used before too: “There. All mine.”

“All yours.” [Y/N] replied.

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