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#no but they were sick for unleashing this on me
useragarfield · 2 years
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♡ ULTIMATE SHIPS MEME ♡ : Dances [3/5] ↳ Robert Philip & Giselle, Enchanted ( 2007 )
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nosferatufaggot · 2 months
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Saw a fucking article about how Joe Biden is mourning the loss of three US troops with said troop's families. LIKE BRO GET A GRIP! You sent those guys out there when you really didn't have to. You have no place to grieve their loss you sick fuck. Then, on the radio, the Fox News woman said that in retaliation to these three military deaths, Biden is sending eighty-five air strikes. I'm not SURPRISED because it's history repeating itself but I'm certainly baffled.
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westernsunshine · 1 year
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The other thing that’s happening is I had a dream about P last night and it’s really fucking with my head
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teatreeoilll · 3 months
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w/c: 750 Part I - A drabble - headcanon thingy of our favorite king of red flags curses, set in a Heian-era village. i dunno anymore. | Part 2 here
Childhood!FriendSukuna who first met you as he stood at the brink of death.
"Mom, hey, mom." You tugged at her sleeve, directing her gaze at a frail boy, about seven or eight, on the verge of collapse behind the village market stall, "Can I give him an apple?" It's a bad month, she thought, glancing at the contents of her basket; this kindness might cost an empty stomach later on.
"No dear, he'll be fine." But you already ran off with an apple, your tiny legs making their way to the sickly boy.
"Here," you held the apple in front of his face, to which he narrowed his eyes, extending a scrawny arm to smack it away.
"I don't need your trash." He barked, his voice harsh as he gathered saliva in his mouth, spitting at your feet, “Peasant.”
As soon as your mother dragged you away, he picked up the apple, eating it whole.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who didn’t mind the insults the villagers threw at him while he was knee-deep in mud, plowing the fields for a cup of stale rice in the evenings.
"That brat is cursed," the whispers would grow amidst the village's council meetings, "If we stop feeding him, he'll leave."
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, whose malnourished limbs betrayed him as he fell face first on the rice terrace with the hot sun still ablaze on his back.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who woke up almost a day later under an unknown ceiling, fever gnawing at his head under a wet cloth.
"Mom! Mom!" You shrieked from the corner of the room, "He's awake!" and a woman came in with a warm cup of tea, the taste of which lingered on his tongue as he drifted back to sleep.
"Let me die, brat." His hoarse voice was still weak when he came back to his senses as you placed a fresh, dampened cloth over his forehead.
"My name's not 'brat,'" you informed with a scoff, "It's (Name); what's yours?"
Too ashamed to admit he didn’t know the answer, he turned away and closed his eyes.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, whose mouth hung agape when you pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead one night while muttering, 'mother told me that a kiss can heal any sickness'.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, who disappeared as soon as he found the strength to walk again, returning to the fields only to find that the farmer's wife would no longer spare him dried-out rice when he finished a day's work.
"They should have let him die," he heard the farmer's wife proclaim through the thin walls of the cabin, "That self-righteous linen maker and her irritating daughter. That brat probably cursed them, too."
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who killed the farmer and his wife, unleashing a torrent of power he never knew resided within him; some kind of strange magic, he thought, wondering if the whispers of curses were more than the village gossip. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and for the first time, he could breathe.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who disappeared after the crime, only to emerge a decade later, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake as he razed and burned each village in his path - laughing as he watched the terror-stricken villagers bow at his feet, crying and begging and dubbing him devil.
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who spared you as the village you once called home turned to ashes around you.
"I owe no debt to you now." He announced.
Tears pooled in your eyes, and a scream escaped your lips as you broke down on your knees before him, "I should have listened," you wailed, fingers clawing at the dry dirt beneath you, "They said you were cursed," you hurled a mass of dirt at him, hitting his chest, "They said the devil came to the village the day you were born."
ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who passed through the village again the next day, just to see you lying between the rubble, limbs sprawled on the dirt and ashes.
"I've extended you kindness." He said, covering the sun with his frame as he loomed over you, "Leave."
And you laughed, shaking and howling until the sides of your body started stinging, and the words came out as mere gasps; "And go where?"
"Wherever you wish."
"Home," You declared, locking eyes with his confused expression, "I want to go home."
You weren’t sure what sick thoughts ran through his mind when he leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, so you smiled, his face still a mere inch away from yours; "It's my fault." you confessed, "So, the next time we meet, I'll fix it, okay?" A deadpan expression took over as you added, "I'll kill you myself."
-
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whoistartaglia · 3 months
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delirious
does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?
alhaitham x reader
you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?
alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.
“what are you doing?” you whisper.
“taking you home.”
you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.
“home?”
“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.
you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.
a lost cause, your roommate called you.
a lost cause was right.
“why?” you ask again through another cough.
alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”
“but you’re not nice?”
alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.
you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.
you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.
“you can’t do that.”
“but why?”
“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”
“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.
“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”
“stay.”
so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.
it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.
“ready to go?”
you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”
“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”
you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.
as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”
“i didn’t wear one.”
“why not?”
“i am immune to the cold.”
“i assume that’s why your sick.”
“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”
“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.
you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.
you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.
he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”
you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.
“because i wanted to see you.”
the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.
“why did you want to see me?”
“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”
like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.
if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.
“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.
alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?
alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.
but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)
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wileycap · 1 month
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The Stupidest Things In Netflix's Avatar The Last Airbender: A List
a.k.a.
a whiny rant from someone who has dedicated far too many of their already limited number of braincells to atla i know it's just a tv show but come on this is what tumblr is for let me whine
For your consideration, with many spoilers:
5. Katara Being Smug After Kicking Jet's Ass
In the original, Katara is betrayed by Jet. You can feel the raw emotion in the words "I trusted you! You're sick, and I trusted you!" immediately followed by her concern for the innocent people Jet has seemingly murdered. It's not a triumph, it's a wound, and the next time she sees Jet, her first reaction is "kill on sight".
This is great. It's heartwrenching, it's humanizing, and Katara using violence against Jet isn't a victory for her. It's just pain.
In the live action, Katara very mildly chastises Jet for trying to kill innocent people, which is... an interesting characterization for her, to say the least. Jet then tries to grab her, immediately followed by Katara throwing him and freezing him. She then just tells him goodbye. Her tone is placid, almost unaffected.
And then Jet says "Look at the power you have. That's because of me!"
Katara: "That wasn't you. That was me."
And then she strides off with a small smile, and that's the end of that. Sokka and Aang are not present. It's an incredibly hokey moment that's meant to emulate the style of feminine empowerment, but it has none of the substance. It glosses over any human feelings of hurt and betrayal. All that the it ends up doing is removing a story beat for Katara.
4. The Badgermoles
"They're blind! They sense feelings and react to them! Anger, fear... but mostly love."
Katara and Sokka hold hands in a cave and it makes the badgermole stop attacking them.
The blind badgermoles. Navigate by... love.
Yeah.
Do I need to say anything? Can we all see (pun intended) how stupid that is?
3. Bumi Makes Aang Choose Between Killing Him Or Letting Himself Die To Make The Dumbest Point Imaginable
Remember Bumi? Aang's old friend, a fun, kooky king? Well, here he's an actual fucking psychopath.
He collapses part of the roof onto Aang, and Aang holds it up with airbending. Another part of the roof collapses on Bumi, and Bumi just... shrugs his shoulders, fully intending to die. Aang holds that one up as well, and Bumi, instead of helping, makes the dumbest fucking point I've ever heard about "making tough choices", and urges Aang to let the boulder crush him.
Again. Bumi, the fun, wise king, wants Aang to kill him.
The situation is defused by Katara freezing a little strip on the floor so that Sokka can very slowly slide on it and tackle Bumi to safety. I can not emphasize how slow his slide is. Running would have been faster. Bumi has time to look at him and say "Huh?" as Sokka slowly slides across the floor. Oh, yeah, they were led onto the scene by the love-sensing badgermoles.
Then it's Aang's turn to be dumb. He says "you CAN rely on your friends" and hands Bumi a friendship rock. Bumi is pacified for now, but there is no telling when his next Saw trap will activate.
This made me actually feel bad. I just. I kept expecting for it to turn into a secret lesson, like Bumi in the original show, but it never did. Bumi's just a spiteful psychopath who is easily swayed by the gifting of rocks.
2. Koh The Face-Stealer Has A Backstory Now
Why? Mother of Faces? What? No.
No.
Iroh Is Intimidated By Zhao, And Then He Kills Zhao
Ah, Live Action Iroh. The most ineffectual man on the planet.
So, Zhao has the Moon Koi in a bag, and is ready to stab it with his special stabbing implement. Iroh is standing right behind him. RIGHT BEHIND HIM. Iroh has been there the whole time. Iroh does not want Zhao to kill the fish.
Iroh says: "Whatever you do to that spirit, I'll unleash on you tenfold!"
Remember how in the original, where that was like a big, shocking moment that he got angry? And how Zhao immediately let go of the fish, only to then have his anger get the best of him? How Zhao attacked the spirit by surprise?
Well, here it's a little different. For one, like I already said, Iroh doesn't come in suddenly, he sort of gets bullied into looking for the spirit by Zhao. Then he looks for the spirit, and after Zhao finds it, then he decides that he really has a problem with killing the spirit. He did protest before, but then he kind of just caved and helped anyways.
He threatens Zhao, and Zhao just... brushes him off. "Spare me your empty threats." Then the firebenders next to Iroh sort of... glower at him menacingly, and Iroh looks worried.
Zhao offers Iroh a place at his side once he becomes Fire Lord, which, uh? Okay. Fine. I actually don't have a problem with Zhao wanting to be Fire Lord, that seems to be entirely on brand for him, but everything he does to get to that goal is just stupid.
Aang arrives, they talk, Aang says "I don't matter", and then Iroh, who has sidled past the Glowering Firebenders Who Do Nothing Else, shoots the fish out of Zhao's hands. And then, as Zhao is on the ground, reaching for the fish with his special stabbing implement, Iroh forgets that he can shoot fire out of his hands, and lets Zhao stab the fish.
AND THEN Iroh, who literally stood by two different times and let Zhao kill the fish, decides to kick everyone's ass. And the Glowering Firebenders do nothing. One of them just stands in the background. Iroh doesn't even attack that guy.
In the original, Iroh immediately leaps into action after Zhao kills the spirit by means of surprise attack, takes out Zhao's guards in about a second, and Zhao escapes.
Here, he doesn't do anything at first except help Zhao find the spirit he doesn't want to see killed, then back down, then do something, then back down again, then do something again, then forget that he can do anything, and then he does something again.
It's just... so dumb. (So dumb it's brilliant!) No! It's just dumb!
And then, fifteen minutes later, after Zuko has dueled Zhao, Iroh kills him. Iroh just barbecues him by striking him from behind. Gee, Iroh, if you were willing to do that, why not just do it when Zhao was holding the fish?
Dishonorable mentions:
The fact that all of the actors fit their characters so well and have some great moments, but the show just doesn't support their performances at all. I feel so bad for all of them, being robbed of a chance to shine by some truly awful writing, editing and direction
The Ocean Spirit making Godzilla noises
June flirting with Iroh (didn't they say that they wanted to remove iffy stuff from the original? Well, that whole thing was iffy in the original. Why didn't you cut it entirely?)
Zuko doing the jazz hands to charge an attack
All the clunky and unnecessary exposition (for example: after Aang turns into the Ocean Spirit, Yue immediately turns to Sokka and narrates that Aang has turned into the Ocean Spirit, for almost 30 seconds)
The fact that Aang can only communicate with each Avatar at their shrines
The Ice Moon
The Cabbage Man literally turning to shout his line to the heavens while fire rages around him
The Secret Tunnel song being shoehorned in for no reason
Iroh's entire backstory being shoehorned in for no reason
Ozai being a caring dad actually
Zuko being shocked that Ozai prefers Azula
Gran Gran's speech
The fact that they showed Gyatso being killed by Sozin (literally nobody needed a big action scene, because that's what it was, predicated entirely on the genocide of the Air Nomads)
And finally, the fact that Sokka and Yue's reason for going to the Spirit Oasis is that Momo was fatally injured.
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sophia336 · 2 months
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Earthbound
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earthbound definition: attached or restricted to the earth.
In which Cole stands up to a tyrant that is cruel and unjust deep within the mountain. Because he made a promise.
🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤
It doesn’t take a genius to see that Cole’s losing.
The cave is in chaos; the sound of screams and clanging weapons fill the air as two sides clash against each other.
Vangelis and the Skull are toying with him, and he knows it: they’re circling him, trying to throw him off by telling lies about his mother. Cole blocks the hits from Vangelis and the blasts from the Skull, feeling like a fly they were winding up in a web of lies.
Vangelis rises above him, resembling a winged creature of death with his blank mask and the glowing Skull of Hazza D’ur in hand. “And now, her deceit has doomed you!”
“Her only son,” the Skull rasps.
Vangelis hurls the Skull at Cole; growing brighter and brighter the closer it gets. He stands his ground and braces himself.
The Skull collides, and the blades …
… shatter.
Cole is thrown back, the air knocked out of his lungs as his body rolls to a stop. He sits up weakly, before throwing back his mask to gasp at the sight of the broken Blades of Deliverance.
“No!” He cries. With trembling fingers, his gloved hands hold onto the shattered pieces of the black and white blades. “It can’t be …”
His mother … lied …
“It is,” Vangelis glides towards him menacingly. “And now, you will pay the price for your mother’s lies.”
“Lies, deceit,” the Skull rasps.
Cole screams in pain as the Skull unleashes fire upon his fallen form.
“Your cause is lost.”
More fire.
“Have the grace to admit defeat.”
More fire. More, more. Blistering pain wreaks havoc across his broken body.
It’s hopeless. He’s finished. He’s too weak. It’s over. He just wants to —
He remembers his mother.
🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤
“I want you to promise me, Cole. That you will always stand up to those who are cruel and unjust. Always.”
“Always.”
🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤
His mother … her strength hadn’t come from the Blades of Deliverance. She’s always been strong. She had been sick all his life, yet no matter how weak her body had gotten she had moved through her life with implacable momentum. Impossible to sway or dissuade. Ever since he was young, his mom had power — from her beliefs … and from the Earth.
“It was her,” he realizes. “It wasn't the blades. It was her. The power inside my mother.” The power inside of me, his heart whispers. Not the Spinjitzu Burst. The power of Earth.
“It was all her.”
“Alas,” Vangelis laughs cruelly. “You are not half the warrior your mother was.”
Pain and grief bite through his being, but Cole forces himself to his feet to glare at the Skull Sorcerer. “Maybe not, but I am her son.” Conviction buries itself deep into his being. “And I made her a promise to stand up to tyrants like you! Always!”
The mountain rumbles its agreement. Cole digs his fingers into the rock and feels it mold around the shape of them. Every grain of earth begins to glow as his power seeps into it.
“What are you doing? What is this!” The Skull Sorcerer demands.
“It's the Burst!” He barely hears Master Wu cry above his roaring element.
But no. It's not, and Cole can feel it. It's something different. Deeper.
His power was strongest when he was the closest to the earth and he’s never been farther underground. He was basically at the bottom of the world. Never has he been more surrounded by the very thing that powered him. The Skull Sorcerer thought he was burying him — but what if bringing him closer to his full strength? To the source of his elemental power?
Cole could feel it — the connection to the earth. He could feel it reaching out towards him, coming from the ground all around him.
He stands and lets it in. He let the energy of the earth infuse him, deep into his core and surging forward. The Skull of Hazza D’ur comes flying forward to finish him off and Cole bursts to life.
Unparalleled power explodes from the earth, bright and blinding, and Cole feels more alive than ever. His skin disappears, being replaced with magma and rock as the mountain quakes under his force.
The battle halts as everyone stops at the sheer force of the Earth; Ninja gape in shock, the Shintarians fly back in fear, the cave-dwellers stare with awe.
“Son of Lilly,” the Geckle and Munce whisper.
Cole rises with the power of the Earth; the Skull spiraling, lost, as he reaches for it with a molten hand and throws it down against the Earth. Destroying it.
The battle — one that had been reigning in secret for decades — is finally over.
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🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤 🪨 🌋🖤 🪨 🌋 🖤
Vania dips her head as the last servant that has finished attending her and shuts the door.
She takes a deep breath, listening to the fading footsteps of the servant and the guards clanking armor move away.
Then she springs into action.
She quickly changes, flying out of her normal, queenly wardrobe into more plain, neutral robes. She glances at Chompy, who’s watching her from his bed. She touches the dragon’s head.
“I’ll be back before morning — promise,” she whispers. He makes a chattering noise, telling her he’s displeased. “I know! I will, I promise. I just …” she bites her lip. “I just can’t leave him alone down there.”
Maybe Chompy can hear the pain in her voice, because he doesn’t argue — simply pushes his head into her hand with a small chur of forgiveness.
Vania pushes past the grief and stands, lighting a candle before leaving. She sneaks through her own palace silently, moving past guards like a ninja as she heads for the gardens.
She makes her way to the entrance of the garden alcove leading into the mountain, her heart steadily beating harder. The caves beneath the mountain were deserted, with the Geckle and Munce people deciding that they wanted to live their new lives above the mountain.
She scurries down; down and down the winding mountain, past cramped caverns and twisting turns, the cloying darkness only fought off by a single flame.
Finally she reaches it.
The Heart of the Mountain.
The legendary temple for the Masters of Earth. Ancient scriptures written in the Old Tongue read: Let pass through here, into this refuge and sanctuary, only those who are One with the Earth. Orange flames danced off the walls, even though no one had been down here to light them. Power shined through the giant doorway as Vania drew nearer.
Creak …
The door opened slightly.
Vania went inside, following the carved path molded by Geckle and Munce. Statues of ancient Earth Masters and their stories echoes around her, and she ignores the familiar goosebumps that rise along her skin. Her eyes linger on the statue of Lilly, before moving on.
Statues are more than solid pieces of art. They are immovable, unbreakable monuments that enrich storytelling, making the experience of living more profound and unforgettable. They remind us of the strength of traditions, the power of history, and the enduring spirit that echoes throughout the ages.
She draws closer to the one standing in the middle, heart beating loudly in her chest. It's tall and strong, newly carved. Awake and glowing with the surging elemental energy. She reads the plaque in front of it.
This statue was carved with love and gratitude by Geckle, Munce, and Shintarian craftsmen in honor of Cole Brookstone: Ninja, brother, and son.
Vania places the candle on the stone ledge and takes a seat on it, facing away from the statue. It feels like yesterday she was trapped in here with the Upply and Master Wu, trying to figure out a way to stop her father. She forces the memories away when she feels the mountain move.
“Hello, Cole,” she says softly. The Earth rumbles under her feet, before slowly forming and making a vague shape of the person she used to know. Orange light shines through the cracks of rock as he peers at her curiously, waiting.
Vania smiles.
“So, what story would you like to hear today?”
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classyrbf · 1 month
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THE MAN I USED TO KNOW! — GETO SUGURU
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SYNOPSIS...you’ve noticed suguru has changed, his attitude, his demeanor, he isn’t the same anymore. his coldness towards you won’t change and it breaks your heart
INFO...geto x fem!reader, angst (no seriously), arguments, yelling, break up, cheating, crying, cursing, no comfort, not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
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The metal scraped against the ceramic plate as Geto played around with the food you had made for him. His face stoic as he sits there and stares at it. Your eyes flicker up to his fingers, taking a bite of your food. He hasn’t said a word to you since he’s walked through the door, completely ignoring your presence and advances. He didn’t even respond when you said hi.
He’s been acting cold towards you for months know, not responding to your texts, coming home late, always tired, shrugging you off when you try and show him affection. You didn’t want to overthink it, knowing that he does go through phases where he’d rather be by himself. But this, this was different. Usually he’d talk to you, explain what he’s feeling, and now he can’t even do that. He treats you like a stranger, like you’re a roommate rather than his girlfriend. As you sat there in your bed late at night, staring at his sleeping figure, you began to wonder if your once loving boyfriend was cheating on you.
The thought of it broke your heart in two, made you sick to your stomach and put an empty feeling in your chest. You’d walk into the bathroom and shut the door behind you to cry, hoping you don’t wake him up. The man who was sitting across from you right now wasn’t the man you fell in love with.
“Not hungry?” You broke the silence, placing your fork down on the plate.
“No,” he bluntly answered, tossing his fork down. A long sigh left his lips, pushing the plate of food away from him. “I already ate.”
“At work?” You asked, puzzled. He didn’t come home until nine at night, six hours after he was supposed to leave work.
“Yep,” he plainly replied.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking back down at your plate as Geto sat there, arms folded across his chest. You weren’t sure what to say to him anymore. Anytime you tried sparking up a conversation he never showed interest, completely shutting you down. He was pushing you to your breaking point, leaving you nothing left but to lash out on him about his behavior towards you.
“You really shouldn’t have waited up for me.” Yet another sigh leaves his lips, like he was annoyed with the fact you were present in his life. Your brows furrowed, his words not sitting right with you. He’s made you feel useless, unwanted, like you were nothing but a placeholder in his life.
“Well, I wanted to. We never spend time together anymore.” You grab your cup, taking a sip of your water in hopes to hide the shakiness in your voice.
“We do,” he quickly said.
“We don’t.” You avert your gaze, unable to look at him.
“What is your problem?” He asks, voice sharp.
You found it in yourself to meet his gaze, taken by surprise from his question. You scoffed, almost laughing in his face. “What is wrong with me?” You ask.
“Yeah!” He shrugs his shoulders.
“What is wrong with you, Suguru? You come home and ignore me, can’t even find it within yourself to say hi. You come home late every single night, walking right past me like you have something to hide. You don’t even eat the food I cook for you anymore even if it’s your favorite! You can’t even hold a conversation with me! And we haven’t even said I love you to each other in I don’t know how long!” You’ve reached your breaking point, all the months of holding everything back now unleashing.
“Because I am too tired! What don’t you understand?!” He yells, a scowl on his face.
“Too tired?! Too tired! You stay six hours later than you need to every fucking day doing who knows what! That’s your own fault! I’m your girlfriend, Suguru, sorry that I have to remind you! I’m not some damn roommate of yours that helps pay the bills! You’ve been treating me like some stranger for the last few months!” You quickly respond, tears brimming your eyes. You stand up from your seat at the table, letting out shaky breath as you turn to look away from him. The room becomes silent. All that could be heard were your broken sobs. Suguru looks at you, chest heaving up and down as he tries to control his breathing.
“It’s hurts,” you whimper, sniffling. “I love you so much and I don’t even think you feel the same way anymore.” You turn to look at him. “What happened to the man I used to know?” A frown forms on your face as you try so hard to hold back your tears. “What are we?”
He stares at you for an unreasonably long time, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t know,” he answers after what feels like hours. His words make you sob even harder, embarrassed that it’s come to this.
“Are you seeing someone else?” You have your back turned towards him, heart beating rapidly in your chest. It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest as you wait for him to answer you. You can’t bear to look into his empty eyes, knowing that the love he had for you is no longer there. He’s an empty man. Anxiously, you bite on your nails, leg bouncing up and down. Your dinner was cold, and so was the room. Everything seemed cold.
“Yes.” He almost sounds ashamed when he answers. Tears pour down your face upon hearing that singular word. You knew it all along. Suguru is still sitting there, holding his head in his hands before dragging them down his face.
The room is spinning and your chest hurts. You feel nauseous, the food you just ate threatening to come back up. Though your knees are weak, you find the strength to walk towards your shared bedroom, tears blurring your vision as you pull your suitcase from the closet, tossing whatever clothes you had in, not bothering to fold them. Anger flows through you, remembering all the times you desperately tried to fight for his affection and love, all the times when you cried to yourself as you sat alone with your thoughts. He didn’t care.
You hear footsteps approach from behind you as you angrily rip your clothes off of the hanger and from the drawers, throwing them to the floor. You can’t stop crying no matter how hard you try. He doesn’t deserve your tears. “I’m sorry.”
You immediately stop in your tracks, slowly turning to look at him. “Now you’re sorry?!” You inch your way towards his brooding figure. “Why did you even stay?! Did you get enjoyment from me trying to get your attention, huh? You’re a fucking joke.” You stare up at him with hatred, venom lining your tone. “Fuck you!” You push him causing him to stumble backwards. “I hate you!” Your voice cracks as more tears well up in your eyes. “I really hate you!”
“I know.” He stands there with his hands in his pockets, looking at you through half lidded eyes.
You shake your head at him, returning back to packing your things. Suguru doesn’t know what he expected, he can’t seem to find an explanation for why he did what he did. You were perfect, loving, beautiful, caring, and he took all that away from you in a span of five minutes. He took it away from you his hands touched that other woman. He knew you’d catch on, you weren’t stupid. He felt guilty, but couldn’t stop himself from indulging in the attention of others—the woman.
“Who is it?” You ask, sitting on the floor as you hold your crumpled up shirt in your hand. As much as it would hurt to know, you needed some type of closure.
“I met her the night we had that argument.” He bit the inside of his cheek. It was a petty argument the two of you had, something about him leaving his clothes all over the floor. It escalated into a full blown fight, yelling at each other about that things that had zero correlation with what you first started fighting about in the first place. Hurtful things were said and he left to blow off some steam, finding himself at a club while you were at home texting and calling him, wondering where he was. That’s where he met her. Declining your calls while he was entertaining another woman. That entertainment shortly turned into him ending up at her place, their clothes discarded on the floor and his lips on hers, sweaty bodies pressed against each other.
After she fell asleep, he checked his phone to see you had texted him over ten times and called him over five, concerned for his safety. When he came back home, he found you sleeping on the couch, no blanket, no pillow. You fell asleep while waiting for him. It spiraled down from there.
A sob raked through your body as you remembered the argument he was talking about. “You were fucking her while I was here…waiting for you to come back home.” You felt sick, hands shaking as the thought formed an image in your head. “I can’t even look at you. I don’t know who you are anymore,” you said with disgust. Zipping up your suitcase, you stood to your feet and bumped shoulders with Suguru as you walked towards the front door to grab your coat and put on your shoes.
You left the house key on the small stand by the door before walking out, slamming the door shut behind you. The house stood silent, Suguru standing in the hallway as he stared at the front door. Remnants of your perfume filled the air, the dinner you had made still left on the two plates, the gifts he had got you were left behind, your side of the bed still messy from where you slept this morning, your towel still hanging in the bathroom along with your shampoo and conditioner.
He understands how much of a shitty person he is. He knows that he deserves a life without you as he casted you aside. As to why he stayed? Suguru was unsure of that himself. He questioned it multiple times when he heard you crying in the bathrooms all those nights. He hurt you deeply. Maybe he was waiting for the moment you broke up with him, afraid of doing it himself for whatever reason. He feels a sort of emptiness as well now, standing as silence consumed him. He was unsure of how to feel or react. Is he broken in a way? Is that why he did what he did?
His phone vibrating in his pocket pulled him away from his thoughts. He slowly pulls it out, staring at the name on the screen. It was her. He sucked in a breath, thumb hovering over the screen.
He declined the call.
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chaedomi · 8 months
Text
THEIR DELICATE FLOWER
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SUMMARY . flowers come in assorted colors and produce sweet nectar. as a result, flowers attract various kinds of butterflies, even the so-called deadly ones. pt. 2
CHARACTERS . THE BLACK AGRICHE (minus Fontaine)
WARNINGS . YANDERE, female child reader, platonic, ooc, violence, death, unhealthy relationships, everyone somehow finding a way to terrorize reader, the agriche family as a whole (if i missed any, kindly alert me)
WORDCOUNT . 5.8k+ / MASTERLIST.
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YOUR MOTHER was already a laughing stock and a huge disgrace to The Black Agriche. Due to this, she was confined to her room, away from the disgusted eyes that followed her form with every step she took. Her reputation further decreased when word spread in the household that she gave birth to a baby girl… a sickly one at that. Was she trying to ruin the image The Black Agriche carefully built for years!?
When LANTE found out, he was beyond livid. The disdain he held for your mother was very evident as the slightest hint of her has him in a sour mood and heads rolling. Still, he gave her a chance to redeem herself; birth a worthy child was all he commanded. However, the ending result only proved that she was indeed a useless woman.
Nobody could have stopped him from what he did next, not even the wails and desperate pleas of his other wife that knelt helplessly on the ground. Unleashing his bloodlust, your mother was brutally killed. The only ones spared were his other wife and you, as he deemed it foolish to judge you as a newborn. Perhaps your state was only temporary and as you grew older, you would impress him.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Although you weren’t sick, you grew to be a rather fragile individual. The littlest pressure has you crumpling in pain, wheezing breathlessly. A disappointment, really. Nevertheless, he kept giving you another chance to prove yourself. When you fail, he gives another and another, and another, and another-
It was then he realized how lenient he has been with you out of all people. Why he hasn’t diced you into a pile of meat as he claimed each time was beyond him. Every time you made a fault, he found himself scrambling for a reason to excuse your deplorable actions. It was unlikely of him and bothered him to a large extent.
Having enough of the confusing emotions you struck within him, an order was sent out, requesting your presence. Understandably, you were petrified as it was not common for the Head of The Agriche Family to express interest in seeing anyone out of the blue. And with an amused smirk, he watched as you nervously eat the desserts brought by the servants before dismissing you from his private room.
He continued doing this, either inviting you to the room or seeking you outside, the extreme feelings he experienced deepening with every interaction he held with you. Eventually, it escalated to a point where he didn’t want you to leave his side. He soon concluded that he will never understand what aspect of yours drew this uncharacteristic side out of him. And oddly enough… he was at peace with it. Maybe your mother was capable of doing good. Hmm…
Effortlessly, the killer of your mother lifted you from your seat. A touch meant to be comforting caused shockwaves of discomfort and fear to travel up your spine. His expression was unreadable, scrutinizing gaze never leaving your form. Eyes resembling the crimson red of blood, the picture was forever burned into your memory.
“...How strange.”
Unsurprisingly to most, SIERRA was the best friend of your mother. Looking past the horrible rumors that lingered inside the household about your mother, she decided to befriend her. And boy, was she relieved, discovering that your mother was nothing like the rumors had stated, no, your mother was just a sweet, harmless woman. The moments spent were very wholesome and a change of pace from the insanity that lingered in the household.
Though… everything went crashing down when your mother became pregnant with you. Don’t misunderstand Sierra… she was overjoyed over the announcement of you. What frightened her so much was that your mother fell terribly ill and without much reason. When your mother expressed her concerns about your health, Sierra also felt dread, wanting nothing horrible to happen to you. While it’s not related to health, Sierra knew what it’s like to be worried about your child’s well-being; she knew it all too well. Bless her kind-hearted soul, she hoped your mother would never experience the pain she was put through.
But, it appeared as though her prayers and hopes were all for naught as you were born sickly and frail. And aware of the monstrosity that will arise afterward, her heart shattered into a million pieces. Still, her knowledge of this evil pattern will never emotionally nor mentally prepare her for the disastrous event. Oh, she hated how powerless she was. Her screams, wails, and pleas were futile, having to witness the execution of her beloved friend at the hands of her husband. Why must the people she loves suffer so much?
She was left alone in the room, sobbing into her palm. Had it not been for the soft wails of your newborn self, she would have remained there on the ground, allowing the coolness of the tiles to seep onto her skin as she wept to her heart’s content. Frantically leaping to her feet and momentarily pushing her grief aside, she scooped your bundled self in her arms, listening to you calm down as a woeful frown etched itself onto her lips. Blinking away the stray tears in the corner of her eyes, she hugged you closer to her chest, rocking you slowly. She might as well enjoy what was left of her beloved friend.
History surely had its cruel way of repeating itself. As you aged, you developed a lovely personality; innocent and pure, contrasting the sadistic and aggressive personas the rest of your family members owned. Why it destroyed her the way it did was because your traits were on par with her deceased son, Ashil. Just what did she do to relive such a nightmare?
By some miracle, Lante seemed to favor you tremendously. The stress that was lifted from her shoulders was refreshing. …It was especially difficult to ignore how extremely clingy Sierra was toward you. Every hour of the day, every second, Sierra insisted to be by your side, never allowing you a moment of isolation. Even so, her clinginess will never compare to how overprotective she was. God forbid if you got injured in her sight, or somehow managed to sneak away from her watchful eyes for too long. She will fall into hysterics, holding onto the little thread of sanity she possessed as she smothers you with overbearing attention.
You almost screamed in terror at the figure looming above you. Thankfully, your brain reacted quicker as you identified the figure as your stepmother. What mostly unnerved you was not the fact that she most likely might have been watching you sleep, but how… lifeless she looked. You didn’t know she was able to make such a face. Quietly, you called out to her which successfully snapped her out of her trance. Wordlessly, the woman sunk to her knees and wrapped her arms around your small body, stuffing her face in your torso. Regardless of your utter confusion as to why she visited you in the dead of night, you returned the gesture, spurring her to tears. Doesn’t look like she’ll be leaving anytime soon…
“...It could have been you as well…”
When Sierra says she’s going to stay with you, she means that she is staying with you. She does a good job of it as well, much to your dismay. But her whimpers every time you tried to run away always filled you with guilt, grounding you next to her. And thus, due to Sierra’s stubbornness to leave you alone, this is how MARIA met you.
It was a bright and sunny day, the flowers were in season, and birds were chirping merrily… it was the perfect condition to host a tea party! What better way to relax under this glorious weather than to enjoy tea and desserts with her favorite guests? So excitedly, Maria sent invitations.
Sierra was one of the last few to arrive. When Maria went to greet her, what she wasn’t expecting was two instead of one. Honestly speaking… Maria did not care for both you and your mother. Yes, she has heard of the gossip of your mother circulating among the Agriche Wives, and yes, she has heard the talk of your birth. But for someone who has never seen you or your mother before, there was only so much fuel she could add to the fire.
Her eyebrows were raised as Sierra timidly states that she brought someone along. Since Sierra was mostly alone, it was a surprise to her. Though all questions died down in her throat when she caught a glimpse of you.
The umbrella that was tightly grasped in her hand fell to the ground, her jaw slackening as she stared at you with blown eyes. …Was it even possible to be more beautiful than Sierra and her daughter combined!? You were just as pretty as a flower!
Not much explanation was needed, she immediately fell head over heels for you. Forget the fact you came uninvited, come relax and have some tea! Squealing with a skip in her step, she snatched you from Sierra's side, ushering you to a comfortable seat where she and all the ladies present fussed over you. …You left with a stomach bursting from sweets that day…
Unfortunately, gaining Maria's affection means you're subjected to her bizarre actions. If you had Sierra visiting your room in the dead of night, you had Maria visiting your room at the crack of dawn. You've woken up to her beaming face far too many times to count…
Braiding your hair, dressing up, and playing pretend are Maria's favorite activities with you and they always end with her pinching your cheeks and kissing them before she leaves. She really wanted to lock you up for herself, a cute little doll all for her to admire, pamper and cherish.
Maria was very cheerful and a bit eccentric, so you mostly felt at peace in her presence. …But that all changed when you stayed at a party longer than you should have. What you saw was like a wake-up call for you, unless they were Sierra, no matter how sweet they make themselves appear, they were still an Agriche, dehumanized, and evil.
You suddenly felt the dessert you ate creep up your throat as you stared at the servant's corpse... what was left of it, at least. The spoon you used to eat the treat slipped from your fingers, falling onto the table with a loud rattle. Your second stepmother, the murderer, was unbothered by it all, a devilish smile occupying her doll-like features, calming dishing out orders for the servant’s body to be fed to the beastly creatures that resided inside the mansion. At the sight of you, her sadistic smile morphed into one filled with pure adoration. She made her way to you giddily and squeezed you into a hug, uncaring of the evidence of her killing smearing all over your body. Frozen, you just stood there as she lovingly pressed a sweet kiss on your cheek.
"My! Aren't you such a Cutie Pie!"
The first time she saw you, she only gave you a glance… before she almost stumbled over as she did a double take. Once she regained her composure, in quick, long strides, ROXANA closed the distance between you both, firmly placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. You flinched, nearly shooting off the ground. The hallways were pretty much empty, so where the hell did she randomly emerge from?
Her stare intimidated you as her eyes were practically glaring holes into your body. It remained that way for a while, her hand on your shoulder as she stared, you, too scared out of your mind to even breathe properly. Soon, her hard stare turned soft, her reddened lips curling into her iconic smile.
Do you know how long she has waited to see you? The answer, she’s been waiting for years. The Abysmal Flower is a book that was offered to her by a school friend in her previous life… to which she initially detested reading because of the triggering contents the novel entailed… but she got past that. Because of all the dark themes, your character was an abnormality in the novel so to speak, especially when you were a member of The Black Agriche. The Black Agriche was known for its criminal activities… Fraud, Theft, Drugs & Poison, and most importantly murder, taking away lives without batting an eyelid.
You didn't belong with that, choosing peace as a method rather than violence. You were just a poor unfortunate soul inside a den filled with savages. It was a custom tradition in the household to eliminate those who stood outside their reputation as it displayed signs of weakness. But you remained unharmed by their gruesome acts. You see, the book portrayed you as possessing this indescribable charm where people feel more inclined to protect you than to harm you. Clearly, The Black Agriche was under this so-called charm of yours. It also extended to the novel’s heroine, Sylvia, who despite hating The Black Agriche, fell in love with you because of your angelic nature, viewing you as a younger sibling. Sadly, blinded by her rage and sorrow over the news of her brother’s killing, she wiped you out with the rest… falling into deeper despair after realizing she destroyed you as well.
Admittingly, Roxana held a grudge over Sylvia and the authors for that stunt. You were her favorite character by far and had so much potential. So even though the alarms blared loudly as her mind registered that she reincarnated as an Agriche and the trials that come along with the name, she was buzzing from glee now that she had a chance to see you… years after.
But after that ‘incident’ and the daily nuisances, she ought to handle for survival, the thought of you slowly slipped from her mind… until now. While no one will stupidly lay a finger on you inside the household, the same cannot be said for some outside the household. The Black Agriche has made quite the amount of enemies, after all. You being the favored one, including your predicament will make you a big target of these enemies. Thus, Roxana does her best to add extra security to your life.
Whenever she gets the chance, she will constantly check on you. If not, she will simply send one of her butterflies to always be updated about your whereabouts. Don’t you see? Whatever she does, it’s done in your favor… So, please enlighten her as to why you appear to be so antsy around her. She hasn’t done anything wrong, has she? She didn’t know you had a dramatic side… but, oh well, that’s endearing too.
She was nice to you, very very nice. For some reason though, it scared you more than it flattered you. You were unsure of why, but your instincts always screamed at you to avoid the blonde. She hasn’t done anything for you to fear her, only spoiling you with exquisite gifts and jewelry. But after what happened with your second stepmother… you didn’t want to take chances. A gloved thumb distracted you from your thoughts, gently caressing your cheek. Lifting your gaze, you peered into reddened hues, an emotion you were unable to decipher swirling in them. She smiled at you fondly, cooing even. Placing your hands on your lap, you smiled back, ignoring the nauseating churn in your stomach.
“Did I perhaps do something wrong? No? Then you don’t mind staying longer with your Big Sister, right~?”
Roxana’s extreme adoration for you had JEREMY torn between anxiety and anger. It’s already bad enough that he had to share his sister’s attention with the god-forsaken Blue Pedelian but now a whiny baby has come to steal the remainder of his spotlight!? He’s NOT happy. I mean, he was there longer than both you AND him. Though, it seems that his sister favors you more than the horny dog… Not that it makes it any better. It’s still annoying.
Jeremy has mentioned this several times to his sister, mostly about you. It was obvious he was jealous, but his complaints stemmed deeper than jealousy, it was fear that his sister will leave him if she attaches herself to others. Growing up in a loveless household was beyond excruciating and his sister, being the first one to treat him like a human and not a weapon, he continuously yearned for her affection. He didn’t want to return to what it was before, and if denying his sister interactions with others stopped that, he’s all in for it. Reassuring words from his sister, however, washed away the little panic inside him.
Still, it lingered on his mind, you. His sister doesn’t mention anyone just like that; if she does, it certainly isn’t to that extent. She’s always smiling, her eyes glitter in excitement, and she rambles on and on, very unusual for her. At least you make her happy… Nevermind. He’s still bitter about the whole thing.
In time, he finally asks his sister if he can meet the person that caught her eye. It could be anyone, considering the ungodly amount of siblings he had and since she was heading to where you were located, he might as well tag along too. His sister’s hesitation didn’t escape his eye, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Looks like you held more value to her than he first presumed…
After contemplating her answer for a while, she gave in, beckoning him closer with a finger. As they walked together, she told him you were the shy type, and it's highly advised that he doesn't do something to overwhelm you. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not… but he felt as though there was a subtle threat underlying her words… Soon enough, they arrived at your bedroom doors.
What did you look like? What kind of person truly are you? His sister paints you a good light, going so far saying you were an angel descended from the heavens. But what if there was a dark side you skillfully concealed? That you were just another savage under the disguise of an innocent? It’s not like he doubted his sister’s judgment… just simply concerned for her well-being.
Well, he'll be damned. And slightly ashamed too. Look at you… you were so frail… and gentle too. The way you touched Roxana and spoke with her, (god, your VOICE!) was so soft, musical, and pleasing to the ears. He kind of flinched when the conversation held between you and his sister switched to him, his sister gesturing to him with a hand. His heart warmed, seeing how your big-doe eyes looked at him, the beautiful hue of them twinkling with curiosity.
Most recoil from his touch but, you reached out to him, interlacing your tiny fingers with his. He noticed how your hand trembled, looks like Roxana was correct, you were the shy type. Even so, you overcame your anxiety to greet him! Him! The final blow was the sweet giggle that escaped your lips, swinging your hand in his. Forget Angel, you were Heaven Sent.
It was very silly how easily he fell under your control, but can you blame him? When was the last time someone treated him with genuine kindness and affection other than his sister? He visited you a lot after that, to your surprise. You thought it was a one-time thing, but here he is, bringing spoils and stuffed animals every day. At that point, you had to ask for another room to store your gifts from him… Jokes and banter are common between you two, him doing most of the interaction, pinching your cheeks, and tickling your sides. Jeremy… turns out to be more childish than you, who is a child, and that said something. It amazed you when he’s on the verge of falling onto the ground and crying out whenever you declined his time with you.
Then there were instances that he was similar to a cat, cute and loving to the people he cherishes, pissy and hostile to others when they come near his cherished. What you hated about him was his ugly jealousy streak and the damage he brings with it. It can annoying when someone you like doesn’t spend much time with you as you’d like, but was it really worth bashing their head into the floor?
You walked hand-in-hand with your brother who hummed merrily. As for you, you were in a state of shock, silent as your mind tried to process what had happened prior earlier. Why did he… kill the servant? They were being nice to you were they not? It was just a lovely fresh-picked flower they wanted to gift out of the goodness of their heart. To you, you thought it was the prettiest one you’ve ever seen so far, the vibrant color palette reminding you of yourself. Mesmerized you were very close to taking the pretty thing, your chubby hands reaching to clasp at the plant. In the BLINK of an eye, the servant was no longer in their spot, the flower soaking in a puddle of blood on the ground, and your hands outstretched. The liquid was also splattered on your face, little droplets spluttered on your dress. In front of you was your brother, an enraged face overtaking his features. And underneath his boot was… the servant that offered the flower to you. What just happened…? Shrugging off how your irises dilated as he came closer, he knelt to the ground, scooping the flower from its puddle. And with a beaming smile, he patted your head, giving the bloodied flower to you instead.
“They’re out of their fuckin’ minds if they think I’d allow them to taint you.”
After your encounter with Roxana, she basically took over the role of bodyguard away from Sierra. Then you appreciated Sierra more, for mingling in Roxana’s presence had you stiffer than a board. The evening was a stormy one, the raindrops harshly beating against the roof, the low rumbles of thunder, and the faint flashes of lightning. For some odd reason, Roxana wanted to take a walk with you in this weather. You didn’t want to, but one word of hers led to another, and now you’re here. Too bad you were too scared to speak up.
Suddenly, she told you she had to run a small errand. It won’t take long, she insisted, and just like that, you were left “unsupervised” in the middle of the hallway. When you wanted to be left alone, you didn’t mean it like this. The hallways were eerily vacant and your room was nowhere nearby. The setting didn’t ease your growing anxiety; it was straight out of a horror novel where anything was capable of jumping you at any given moment. So… imagine how your soul left your body when you glanced over your shoulder, only to make eye contact with a face.
Gasping loudly, you spun around and stumbled backward, your small hands clutching at your clothes. Hair dark as the night sky, eyes red as blood… How did your father manage to silence his footsteps…? And most importantly, what could he possibly want from you…?  The deep frown he wore is a bad sign… Did you finally manage to push your father over the edge!?
The distant sound of heels hastily clacking against the floor trickled into your ears. Shortly after Roxana came into view, panting heavily as she shot a firey glare at the figure in front of you followed by a trail of threats. How did she have the courage to do that!? Did she not fear your father’s wrath? More so, why was he not responding? And who is this DION!? Too confused to study your fear of your sister when she lifted you into her arms, you wrapped your arms around her neck staring at a smirk creeping on who you assumed to be your father’s face.
The days continued smoothly (as the routine with Lante, Sierra, Maria, Roxana, and Jeremy occurred too often to be considered strange) and you lived your life as best as possible. But that was just the calm before the storm… 
Jumping from your seat, the porcelain cup slipped from your hands, shattering on the ground and spilling the milk. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your skin grew ice cold. Maria, Sierra, and the women present at the tea party also freaked out, the former rushing to both of your sides as they attempted to soothe your panicking self.
But that was a mistake for as soon as Maria touched you, you broke down into a fit of tears. They were confused, you were fine seconds ago! Was it perhaps the milk you drank with your biscuits that caused this!? Well, that certainly wouldn't slip by!
However, was that the answer to your panic? No. Someone was… watching you. It wasn't a normal glance… but rather one that instilled apprehensiveness in the hearts of numerous, and unfortunately, it was geared toward you. Left, right, and back, you frantically looked around, trying to identify who it was the person that had you so distraught. But, you couldn't, which made you cry harder and flail your arms about.
You knew the situation was very bad that the noise caught the attention of Lante, summoning him inside the greenhouse where the tea party was hosted. He was disgruntled, unsure of what to do. He didn't train himself to be a proper parent, so how should he know how to tame a crying child no less?
The best option he thought of was to carry you to your bed quarters and your stepmothers quickly complied, Maria whispering sweet nothings into your ears as she carried you, and Sierra lurking not too far behind.
There was some fun in isolation, you thought, as you found solace in the confinement of your room. Whenever you tried to stay outside in the company of others, so did the feeling of being watched return, the dread worsening the smaller the crowd gets. The feeling always disappeared when you were alone in your room, or by yourself… hold on, did you just hear your bedroom door lock?
This man was not your father. It made sense now why your sister treated him with disrespect. If he was not your father, could he possibly be one of your siblings? Though he looks like him, a carbon copy you think, he was sure far worse than your father in personality. Dull, apathetic, and very sadistic. He had no regard for life either as he shamelessly killed the maid assigned to you in front of your eyes. Even when the blood splattered on his face, he showed no emotion, maintaining eye contact with you. Could he be the one that was watching you all this time? Why did he wait to approach you when you were alone? Have you upset him in some way? Was he going to slaughter you next? All these questions ran through your head, unknowingly letting the tears gathered in your eyes run down your cheeks. This caught his attention, the smirk you remembered him having on your first encounter spreading on his lips. Kneeling in front of your bed, uncaring of how you trembled in his company, he reached out a hand, rubbing his finger tenderly against your cheek. It was sick how he found satisfaction that he evoked such a reaction from you. A teardrop fell onto his finger and he brought it to his lips, tasting it. What was meant to be salty, the flavor burst with sweetness in his mouth.
“I wonder what other reactions I can get from you.”
Weak… Fragile… Gentle… Pure… Innocent… How are you surviving in this god-forsaken household? It’s even more amusing to witness the same man, her father, protect what he firmly strived to kill. And that’s how GRISELDA formed a great interest in you, the youngest of The Black Agriche. She remembers clearly, a conversation she held with one of her younger half-sisters years ago, the person responsible for knocking her out of her top three rankings. Smiling happily with her fingers interlaced underneath her chin, she promised to show her something that will greatly humor her.
You may not have been the ‘thing’ her sister was referring to, nevertheless, it was not an unwelcomed one. Ah, she wonders, how long has it been since she has had that spark of interest? The day her sibling died in front of her eyes, feelings such as love became foreign to her. But, you? You restored these lost feelings of hers from first sight. She was stupefied when it happened, her body overflowing with spontaneous bursts of energy.
Truth be told, she had an eye on you for the longest while now, aching to meet you in person at least once. But, curse her hectic schedule to hell, leaving her no choice but to satisfy her curiosity about you from the little stories told by her other half-siblings. For the first time, she had felt a sense of ugly envy… Will they know of it though? No.
Fate was cruel to her, she thinks. First, to take away her sibling she loved, and second, to present, oh, such an ethereal gift, just to keep it away from her arm's length having to watch down on you from the villa’s balcony, scurrying about with her other siblings. For now, she’ll keep it that way, looking at you with a sober expression from afar, but still offering you exquisite gifts to make you aware of her existence.
It was another gift that seemed to spawn alive onto your dressing table, probably from your anonymous gift-giver. You had asked your siblings, including your stepmother who would occasionally step inside if they were the ones responsible, to which they all responded with a ‘no.’ You wondered if it were a servant that did it, but after what transpired with the previous one, you doubted anyone outside your family will be willing to take such a risk. This time, the gift was sitting in a glass vase, filled with water. In the vase were the flowers you adored with the lovely aroma. Happily, you whiffed the scent. Picking up the note that came with the gift, it read, ‘These flowers reminded me of you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do… Sincerely, Griselda.’
“Don’t die on me, Little Sister. I won’t allow it~”
You were very confused to see a red-headed girl on her hands and knees, panting heavily for air. She was shaken too, a sickly color to her pale skin and the cold sweat that ran down the exposed parts of her body. But as you caught the dim red glow in the corner of your eye, as well as the faint sound of wings flapping, you were able to put two-and-two together; the girl was most likely tormented by Roxana’s infamous killer butterflies.
You pitied her, knowing what those butterflies were capable of, one almost biting your finger clean off your hand in one instance. But, that was just a sole butterfly you dealt with, she must have encountered several. And from one victim to another, you approached her shaking form in the hopes of comforting her.
Though… it seems she didn’t appreciate the sentiment… the fiery stare she gave you in response shut you up quickly and almost made you lose your bowels right there. Screaming insults and curses, she sprang to her feet and shoved past you, storming off to where she wanted to go. You just stood there in your spot, wide-eyed with your hands on your chest. Well, that’s what you get for roping yourself into situations that didn’t concern you…
From her outburst, you didn’t anticipate seeing her again, nor do you think she would want to see you. So her interrupting the tea party with yourself in the garden the next day startled you. Overcoming your shock, you smiled at her and invited her to join you and enjoy a couple of biscuits. She stuck her nose into the air and gawked at you as though you’d grown two heads… but still agreed. You did most of the talking, shortly learning her name, CHARLOTTE, and her exchanging haughty remarks here and then. It was a decent event…
If only you knew what exactly your brief display of kindness unconsciously resigned yourself to. Charlotte… was awfully demanding. After the tea party, Charlotte appeared by you very frequently, ordering that you drop whatever it was you were doing, and spend time with her. It could be one of the most important things you had to handle and she would not care. You could be with one of your siblings and she would not care. You could be sick and worn out, she will NOT care. If she wants to be with you, it will be now, no time for discussion. Just TRY to say no, it won’t do you any good. You said yes a lot, mostly because of your fear of what she will do if you deprive her of what she desired. She already made you petrified with a glare, how much worse will it be once she reaches her limit and lashes out? You have no ability to defend yourself when the time comes, so why should you cause trouble? Give in and avoid the unnecessary problem.
She was shaking with fury, hands angrily pulling at her puffy pigtails. How dare they…? HOW DARE THEY!? Are they stupid!? What do you mean you can’t spend time with her!? YOU BOTH ALWAYS SPEND TIME TOGETHER AT THIS TIME! WHY was she and him getting in her way of being with YOU!? They have to be stupid! While she went through an internal crisis, you clutched at your clothes, tears pricking at your eyes. Her green eyes were practically glowing with wrath from the hatred she harbored for your older sister and brother! She was also on the verge of snapping, that you can tell. She was losing all of her morality the longer they denied her what she wanted. You would have excused yourself long ago, but when she’s like this, that’s not the ideal option, for she may do something regrettable to you. Stepping behind your sister, your ears twitched at the sound of a whip cracking, inclusive of a butterflies’ wings, indicating the start of a full-on brawl.
“GO AWAY! Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something!?”
And finally… YOU! How do you feel about your family's attention to you? You never saw how other families interact with their kin… but you knew that what your family was doing was wrong. It was dangerous and obsessive. Would you tell them that? No. Unless you wish to suffer a fate worse than death by confronting them, you will keep your silence until all the odds are in your favor.
They were the butterflies, your mannerisms and kindness as the sweet nectar and color that attracted them, and you, their delicate flower.
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©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.
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Text
Your Fault
Your Fault
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: Reader is pregnant and suffering from morning sickness, only to be comforted by Daryl. Takes place in Alexandria. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me).
Tropes: Fluff, Pregnancy Fluff, Established Relationship
Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any. If anything I'll say references to past smut, but not explicit at all. Mentions of vomiting.
Word Count: 1.5K
Note: This is written in a dialect style with Daryl's accent in mind so the misspellings are intentional. There is minimal use of (y/n).  Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, but nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!
Internal monologue is done in italics.
ENJOY!
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Daryl's hand is soft, tangling into the strands of your hair to pull it back from your face as you unleash the remnants of your dinner into the toilet with a loud groan. The brightly colored tile on the bathroom wall mocks you, each swirl of color illuminated by the fluorescent light above that hurts your sensitive eyes.
Who picks bright pink for bathroom tile?
You think with a groan as your stomach heaves again.
Daryl’s right hand rubs soothing circles into your back  to let you know he's there.
“It’s alrigh. Jus get it all ou.” He mutters.
You had practically run him over when you ran to the bathroom, waving your arms to make him go away, not wanting to see you like this, but Daryl had ignored your half hearted attempts to push him away.
And even though you hadn’t wanted him to see you like this, it was easier. Daryl made everything easy, effortless, and most importantly made you feel loved, more loved than you had felt before all of this.
Your forehead presses against the cool lip of the toilet as you wipe the remnants of dinner off your chin and let out a shaky breath.
"Here." Daryl gently pulls you back from your position to wipe at your chin with a towel.
"Hmm." You lean into his touch with a sigh.
"Ya alrigh?"
"Ughh."
“Come on.” He pulls you against his chest, sitting back so his back is against the bathtub, folding his knees in front of him and dwarfing the already small bathroom.
Daryl looks almost exactly the same as he did when you first met and every time you look at him, you feel the exact same. Butterflies flapping against the walls of your stomach, heart surging up into your throat while pins and needles trace his well placed rough fingertips against your arm. Every touch feels like the first, every kiss sets you on fire, and you wouldn't change a second of it. Sometimes you think just how lucky you are that all this happened, because you can’t imagine your life without him. Admittedly a little selfish, but  then you think of what your life would have been if none of this had happened.
Maybe you would still be in Atlanta finishing up your residency, still live in that apartment downtown, still have the same shifts, eat at the same restaurants- but then where would Daryl be?
Where else would you meet someone who got you so simply, who understood what you were thinking just with a quick glance. Who else would make you feel like you’d swallowed the sun when you found them looking at you?
And who else would you love as utterly and completely as you love him?
"This is your fault." You lean your head against his shoulder, stretching out your legs to knock your thigh against Daryl’s knee.
He was  taller than you, broader and stronger in all the best ways. It was what drew you to him, well that and you thought that it was cute how shy he was, how he'd stumble a bit through his words when you first started talking and how the tips of his ears would flush pink when you smiled at him.
"My fault?" You can hear the smile in his voice. Daryl shifts his arm up over your shoulder to pull you closer into his chest, brushing his hand up and down your arm, letting you settle into him.
"Yes. It's your fault I'm pregnant." Your right hand runs over your stomach that has begun to protrude more in the past few months, a whirlwind to be sure, but a welcome one. The initial 30 days had been 30 days of agony while you tried to think of a way to tell Daryl that he was going to be a father. When you first started dating he had been hesitant to tell you about the raised pink scars on his back and chest- the ones you had seen when patching up a bullet wound that he had taken for you.
And when he finally told you what his father did to him, you couldn't help but fold him into you and hold him close.
The pregnancy wasn't a surprise to you, you'd been living together since you'd arrived at Alexandria and this was a happy accident. But nevertheless when you told Daryl he had left without so much as a word taking your heart with him. You had stayed in bed for what seemed like days, only to have him arrive 4 hours later with a bouquet of wildflowers and prenatal vitamins, where he found them you didn't know, all that mattered was that he was back and he was happy. Happier than you'd ever seen him.
Since then Daryl had been at your side almost constantly, the occasional run had intervened, when Rick himself had to  drag Daryl away, but on each run Daryl always brought something back for you. Whether it be another book you could read together, one of the last candy bars to ever exist, or a knitted blanket to cover your shoulders when you dragged yourself into the bathroom at what seemed all hours of the day- like the exact one you had draped around yourself now. And when he wasn't on runs he was helping you with the small nursery, where a hand carved crib stood as another sign of Daryl’s love, the exact crib that made you burst into tears when he and Rick brought it into the house for the first time.
"Pretty sure we were both there." He rumbles with a smile.
"Logistics don't matter." Your eyes narrow.
"Pretty sure they do. Ya're the doc after all." Daryl's smirk makes a warm tingle travel down your spine, the same smirk that got you into this mess in the first place. "I also remember that ya were wearin my shirt-"
"Typical man blaming the woman for what she's wearing. I thought you were better than that."
His smirk grows. "More like what ya weren't wearin."
"My clothes were wet from the storm, I was trying to change-"
"Inta' my shirt!"
You lean away from him, feigning anger. "Oh you think you're so innocent? You came into the house soaked to the bone and no one should look as good as you do soaking wet." You accuse.
"Maybe you should have shut your eyes then." He shrugs.
"Shut up." Your hands fall against his chest, playfully pushing him away, but he grabs your wrists.
"Make me."
"Don't look at me like that." You groan shifting away from him. "That's what got us into this mess in the first place-" Your eyes search his face for a minute, taking in the familiar blue eyes and scruff that scratches against the smooth skin of your fingertips. "But at least we know it's a girl. No more Daryl Jr."
"We ain't gonna call 'im tha. And how do ya know it's a girl?"
"They say that  if it's a girl you get sick more often.”
He snorts, pulling you back into his chest. "The way ya are going we might be havin' two."
"Shut up. Don't joke about that. One's enough, and this one is taking it's sweet time."
"Maybe jus' likes it in there."
You groan into his solid chest, feeling his muscles tense around you, familiar and welcome.  "Everyone always talks about what a blessing it is to be pregnant, how you glow, blah blah blah. It's all propaganda! I feel like I'm smoldering. I'm fat, my feet hurt, I'm sick all the time-"
"Ya ain' fat y/n."
"Don't lie to me." You sit up to look him in the eye. "You made a promise to not lie to me."
"I ain' lying." He breathes.
You search his gaze, nostrils flaring as if you think you can smell the lie, but all you smell is Daryl. The hypnotic scent of cigarettes (that he refused to smoke around you), sweat,  the heady smell of the woods and the smell of a thunderstorm before it hits, that  clean smell of rain  as it dribbles through the branches above before falling onto your skin.
"Ya're even more beautiful than the firs' day I met ya." Daryl's touch is feather light against your cheek, drawing you closer so he can press his forehead against yours. "Pretty sure ya get more beautiful every day. And if this is a girl-" His free hand drags across your belly, smiling as the baby kicks against his fingers. "She's gonna be beautiful jus' like ya."
You feel the blush drift up into the roots of your hair remembering the day you met. “That was a crazy day-“
“Because ya shot me.”
“It only skimmed your hair, don’t be a baby. And I thought you were a walker.”
“Las' time I checked my hair is on top of my head.”
“You were fine.” Your palms gently fall against the scruff of his cheeks. “I’m really glad I missed.”
“Me too."
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Thank you so much for reading!!
If you liked this fic, be sure to read the prequel “Meet Cute,” that shows the story of how Daryl and the Reader met!
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battymommastuff · 11 months
Text
Revenge... (Final Part) (GRAPHIC)
Batmom x Batfamily
Prompt: Batmom and Jason did what needed to be done...
Part 1 Part 2
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How far had you fallen? From the sight you and your second oldest left for Gotham City left the broken city divided in half.
Too far...
or not far enough...
That sight? Joker's corpse lying on the Bat-Signal. That sick, and sadistic grin still on his face. It made you sick to see it, but you were satisfied that he was gone, "It doesn't fix it. That bitterness I feel." You said as you watched the GCPD conduct their investigation from a nearby building. You didn't know if Batman was lurking about. Was he too scared to face you? Or was he just waiting for the perfect moment to pounce?
"It'll never go away. Trust me, Mom. You're taking that to the grave." Jason said coldly as he polished one of his guns. The other was tucked safetly in your belt. One bullet had been fired from each gun. One shot for Jason's revenge, and one for yours. Was it poor form to take him out while he was in a coma? Sure, but it was much more satisfying than pulling a plug.
Jason's bitterness was ever growing. When his eyes first opened, he was floating in a green pool surrounded by the League of Assassin's. Once his memory returned, the seed that was already planted before his death began to grow. That seed kept growing, and growing once he learned of your fate after his death. How did he find out? He had to listen to Talia praise you without seeming affected. She was proud of you for avenging something so precious to you. Then she turned around, and degraded you for allowing yourself to be throwing in the Asylum.
That didn't matter now, you were free. The Joker was finally gone. The disgusting, smog filled air seemed lighter now that he was gone.
Meanwhile...
Bruce sat in front of the batcomputer. The biggest image on the screen was of your face. The last image of you before you left the Asylum. That cold gaze with the evil smirk. He knew what that meant...he's seen that gaze several times throughout his vigilante life.
You were coming for him. His wife died the night he carried Jason's dead body into the cave. Something else was born, and grew within the walls of the Asylum. Now you were coming for him. He couldn't fight you. You were the love of his life. His reason for breathing, and yet...he made the biggest mistake of his life. Bruce changed the image from you to the one of Joker's corpse. The scars from your vicious beating paired with the two bullet holes. One in his heart, and the other between his eyes. He couldn't blame anyone, but himself for this.
Now he has to prepare for the hell you and Jason are about to unleash upon Gotham's Underground. No villain or evil doer was safe now. He couldn't stop you, and he knew you would never let him hurt Jason. He created two monsters, when it was so easy to prevent it.
Gotham was going to burn, and you were going to be the one holding the matches.
@igotanidea @rosalindatheog @khaylin27 @zbeez-outlet @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth @emily-roberts @grandstrangerphantom @oilyb1tch @kurxxmi @rl800 @dtsyoongs @viperbaroness @lovepity @avitute @bitchyexpertprincess @amieliaine
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notroosterbradshaw · 5 months
Text
That May Be All I Need
about: with Bradley, you're easy... just like Sunday morning. Or those early stages of new relationships.
word count: 5.4k
warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.
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Months, literal figurative months since he’d left. You’d only been dating a few weeks, certainly nothing committal, before his lengthy deployment. It was drinks, some casual dates, some really, really great sex. You thought he’d probably forget about you, in all honesty. so when he ended up texting he wasn't far from land and hoping to get a drink somewhere with you that night, you didn't want to appear too eager. Yet here you were -
“Good morning,” he whispered lazily in your ear the next morning, the heat of the sun outside already heating up your bedroom, the sliver of gold peaking around the ridges of the willowy drapes. His body warm and hard against yours as he wrapped his long, muscular arms around you, large palms wrapping around your ribs, cheekily keeping their slight distance from the curve of your breasts. Not that you’d mind some morning delight in any stretch. Bradley’s body made you in-fucking-satiable. You’d never slept with anyone like him. His ability to give you exactly what you need every time… soft, sweet, rough, and the confidence to show yourself off a little. Please him as much as he would effortlessly please you. 
He nuzzled just behind your ear, the light scratch of his moustache tickling the sensitive skin and you couldn’t resist your burgeoning grin as you snuggled in closer to him, and laced a hand back to scratch his scalp through the messy, next-day curls. “How’d you sleep?” his morning rasp was a thing of utter beauty.
You had one of the hottest men you’d ever met wrapped around your body… how did he think you slept? “I slept well,” you confirmed softly. He kept you tucked tight against him, his body coiled around you the whole night. You were never much of a snuggler before but with Bradley? Well, exceptions would be made because… look at him. 
“I didn’t snore?” he asked, a little concerned as you laughed quietly. 
“The teeniest, tiniest bit,” you indicated the smallest amount on your fingers, but in no way it was a dealbreaker.
He groaned. “Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so exhausted,” he confided. “And I only snore when I’m super tired. Just wake me up, and I’ll roll over,” he instructed for next time. 
“How can you be sure that's true?” you teased.
He scoffed behind you. “I’ve been told," his voice dripping in humour.
The thing was, last night you were sprawled out over his chest while you felt his heartbeat and traced the ridges and ropes of the thick muscle and while he was so content, you would certainly not be waking the beast as much as you wanted to unleash it. He needed to catch up on all the sleep he could, even if he admitted he was a terrible sleeper. He was so used to the cramped conditions of his bunk, that even when in his own bed, he tended to stick close to the edge, smothered in his single pillow and stay to his regimented alarms.
But last night didn’t reflect that and you hoped he was finding ease in your bed… in more than ways than one.
“It’s okay,” you reassured him but you panicked. “I... didn’t snore?”
He shook his head. “If you did, I didn’t hear it, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. God, you would never get sick of hearing him call you that. The way the endearment rolled off his tongue could set you alight. “Thank goodness,” you muttered to yourself as he chuckled lightly. “Can I make you some coffee?”
He hummed. “Real coffee, not some shitty black tar?” he reasoned with himself teasingly, kissing the nape of your neck and you shuddered. He couldn’t resist that devilish, dark chuckle that came with it. “Coffee sounds amazing. But don’t you move,” he said, barely shuffling. “I’ll go figure it out,” he loosened his grip on you and while you wanted to protest, you’d been awake a little while and your wicked caffeine dependency had kicked right in.
Rolling to your back, you pulled the single white linen sheet up for some modesty and snuggled into the pillow that smelled like his cologne. You watched as he slid out of the bed and by god, his body… you knew you were staring. How were you to help it, the thick, well-worked golden muscle strewn across his long limbs and torso. He was an Adonis, you decided as you watched him reach for his boxer briefs discarded the night before. He was so hard, he made no secret about it as he boldly grinned down at you and bent over to cage your face between his large hands that grasped your pillow.
“Something catchin’ your eye?”
“Everything,” you admitted as his face hovered over yours, sinfully amused. He delicately licked your top lip and reactionary, your thighs rubbed together in glee. “Maybe the coffee can wait…” you told him as he gave a simple nod, lip quirking into a sweet pout. 
“Yeah, the coffee can probably wait,” he agreed, tossing his underwear away and slipping back on the bed, gently pulling back the sheet you’d just dragged back up and resting his bulk on yours, boldly nudging your legs with his powerful thighs and giving a playful roll of his slender hips. You wrapped your calves around his hamstrings, bodies close again. His strong hands crept up your body, pinning your wrists in his calloused palm, keeping his grip tight above your head. 
You liked that move. A lot. A lot a lot a lot -
You loved the strength of his body, he worked so hard on it to be able to put it through the rigours of his job daily and showed it off with pride. But what impressed you most was how his mind worked, you knew almost instantly he was a thinker and in those first few dates, casual and a little more intimate, he was always so much more interested in your life than indulging in his own. He said repeatedly that he didn’t want to bore you with what he did and did everything in his power to learn all about you. You’d never met a guy so keen to just listen.
Although it didn’t stop your mind from thinking about his life, his favourite food, what his favourite TV show was (but you were gathering from his penchant for sports, it was SportsCenter. Also not a dealbreaker, although he was a Lakers fan… and you were not), what made him tick… what turned him on - 
His sweet lips kissed the corner of your mouth, ducking lower to your throat as your head instinctively rolled away, opening your pulse to him as he chuckled quietly, his gleaming teeth tenderly gnawing at the soft flesh and he could feel your pulse race under his touch. 
“You’re not sore from last night?” he asked cautiously as the flashes of position after position of the night flashed in your brain. All delicious and your body, you’d admit, was a little on the sensitive side but you were not complaining. He’d given you everything, soft, sweet, rough. And something you didn’t know you’d been craving… he gave you control and watching him fall apart underneath you was a thing of beauty as you rode him. Face, cock, he was in the front-row dedicated sonnets to you. 
“I am a bit…” you told him, a little bashful. But what a sweet sting.
“Where? Tell me, use your words…” he said, his breath hot against your nipple as he kissed with hot, slippery open mouth kisses, eyes big as he studied you. “Here?” 
Not one single per cent irritated. You giggled in response. Giggled. What the fuck was he dragging out of you?
“How ‘bout here?” his tongue trailed between your ribs and his dark eyes stared back up at you.
“Oh, my God,” you couldn’t find the words and you moaned beneath him, almost struggling to get out of his stronghold to at least hold him back. 
“Take that as a no…” he teasingly muttered to himself, his teeth leaving a gentle mark on your hip. “Here?” 
“No,” you swallowed, as his strong nose traced to your belly button and he gazed up, his flushed face covered in sin, and his tongue dipped into your belly button. “I want you, Bradley…” you finally found the courage to say. You were the first to admit, you could be a bit bashful in a situation like this and unfortunately, Bradley was otherworldly hot and it was hard to get the words out. “Bradley, Bradley…”
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, releasing your wrists as wriggled your wrists and tangled your fingers in his messy curls. “I need breakfast,” he said, moving to his tummy flat on the bed and his calloused palms sliding under your thighs, resting them over his brawny, golden shoulders. You were completely at his whim as his long finger ran through your juices. He hummed satisfied and his silky tongue lapped at your cunt, and he was just so keen to please, encouraged by your waves of pleasure as he rutted his hips deep into the mattress, needing respite himself.
“Wanna make it a really good mornin’?” he asked the most obvious question in the history of the universe. 
“Yes, God yes,” you said almost too eagerly, and you knew you should have been ashamed, but how could you when he showered you in attention and affection like he did? He chuckled into your skin, his tongue and lips indulging your skin in goose pimples, climbing up your body again to kiss you, tasting yourself on him as his hips slowly rolled into yours and he used his free hand to delicately place the head of head cock at your weeping core. 
“That was emphatic, sweetheart,” he teased, pouring wet kisses across your breasts, his slick tongue circling your begging nipple as you writhed beneath him, demanding a little more friction. “Okay, okay, you are just gagging for cock, aren’t you?” 
And yes, you were. Long, proud and girthy, Bradley Bradshaw had not a single thing to be concerned about. The jokes of his callsign ringing in your ears, the size of his cock, his penchant for early mornings (he in fact hated early mornings, he just liked to get to the gym early and prep his body for the day, which you found perfectly reasonable) and the many connotations of it, but the joke was on everyone else who didn’t get to feel this fucking good. 
The way his hips rolled into you was bliss. He kissed you deeply as he fucked into you, your body trapped under his begging for release. His hips so fluid and smooth in their movement, you usually needed a little manual stimulation to get to orgasm but not with Bradley as you muttered in his ear that you were close and you guided his big hands into your tits, begging you don’t forget about them and he seemed to call up to the challenge, changing his position slightly to get that little bit deeper within you, because… of course, he could find your g-spot like it wasn’t even a challenge to him.
Was there nothing he couldn’t do? 
He moved his kiss to your nipple, lapping and sucking like a madman. “You’re so tight and wet, sweetheart. Lemme hear you, huh?” He encouraged you, grinding deeply within you and the feral growl from him as you milked him, pussy throbbing around him as you pulled him closer to you, not wanting him to miss out on a drop of the divinity he was giving you, you loved coming on his perfect cock, just bliss as he groaned, trying to take every ounce from you. “Good girl... 'm comin',” he murmured against your mouth, his hips faulting as they sped up, unable to hold on as he came wildly. He gave his last few thrusts before collapsing above you and you wrapped your legs around him, not letting him go anywhere. He laughed quietly. “Got me in a tangle here.”
“Got anywhere to be?” you hissed back in a tease. 
He gave you a thoughtful glance. “No, actually. Got nowhere else to be…” he pecked your lips, his moustache tickling. “Now how you feelin’?”
“Pretty fucked,” you admitted as he grinned wide, nudging your nose with his and he gently rolled you both to your sides and face each other. He refused to pull out and you knew you had a mess on your hands soon. 
“Is that a good thing?”
“A very, very good thing,” you confirmed and if the stars shone out of your eyes, who were you to argue as you both snuggled together, neither willing to move just yet. And that suited you just fine. He made you feel warm, protected and as he kissed your forehead… a little like you were in love - -
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A while later, showered and presentable although you still felt like your whole outlook screamed sensationally fucked all night and morning, Bradley admitted he needed food and could be a bit of a grouch if he got too hungry when you both finally rolled out of bed for separate showers. “I don’t know what time it is. I can’t find my fuckin’ watch,” he called from the bedroom. "Or my damn phone, though I think that's dead..."
“Under the bedside table?” you asked him.
“Ah. Found 'em,” he replied, a little relieved. “I feel we’ve lost most of the morning. Brunch or early lunch?” he asked, approaching you from the bedroom after his shower in the same clothes he arrived in yesterday, smelling a little like your sweet antiperspirant. His strong hands grasped at your hips as you bent over the dishwasher, putting last night’s dirty dishes that were all but forgotten to the wild make-out session while you attempted a movie after dinner. A farcical ruse if you’d ever heard one, but hey, it was worth your tender upper lip and the extra care you’d devoted to this morning and light concealer couldn’t fix the light irritation his moustache could cause. Frankly, he was such a good kisser… just thinking about his lips on yours made your head swim again and probably always would.
It felt like you were falling in love, you reasoned with yourself, and you probably were. But with what Bradley did, you were keeping a gentle, considerate barrier up. Mostly to save yourself if he wasn’t as into you as you were him… or that nagging feeling you couldn’t drop the whole time he was away, that he may not come back. Bradley was the total package, sweet, sexy, smart… sexy, funny. Sexy. He managed to tick all the boxes and in the short time you knew him, you were certainly falling head over heels. 
You weren’t really clear how he was feeling but he was texting you as soon as his boat was coming into reception and asked if he could see you the night he was home so you begged that meant something. It was three months of not hearing from him, and he told you it would be difficult but he’d try. You Facetimed once, but it was innocuous. There was nothing committal, more his exercises and manoeuvres, life at sea, his jet and how he was excited to get home when it happened. 
“Brunch sounds good,” you said, straightening and he pulled your back to his chest, his strong palms drifting up and down your sides pressing into the soft flesh. “Do you have a place in mind?”
“I dunno,” he admitted. “I’ll let you guide me.” 
You had the perfect place. “There’s a cafe around the corner that has the best chilli eggs scramble,” your tummy grumbled eagerly. 
“Fuel,” he teased, his teeth chewing on your earlobe as your knees started to wobble and Bradley brought you back against his chest, his hands deliberately turning you at the waist and his frame trapping you against the sink.
“Fuel?” you played dumb.
His lip quirked into a smirk and if you didn’t see the devil twinkle in his honey-coloured eyes… “You know what I like most about you?” he asked, barely breathing above a whisper.
“What?” you asked, your heart racing as his face hovered closer over yours.
“That you can see right through me and you think I don’t know.”
You bit back a grin of your own. “Well, I have to keep some secrets, don’t I?”
He hummed. “I bet,” and he kissed you again because if there was anything you were sure of, it was that no, you weren’t falling in love with Bradley Bradshaw. No. 
You were in love with Bradley Bradshaw. 
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After breakfast, your lazy Sunday continued with a stroll through the local farmer’s market. You followed Bradley from stall to stall, admitting he’d never actually been to one but all the food trucks were awesome (he didn’t get much time to explore the phenom in his line of work and lack of real downtime. You had gotten the notion he willingly threw himself into his work but hadn’t verbalised it to him yet), and as someone who professed he enjoyed cooking, he was so excited by some of the produce, he couldn’t wait. He probably tried everything the vendors made available to taste test and the way his eyes rolled back into his head as he devoured probably more fresh blueberries than he should have was honestly? Adorable. 
“Wait here,” he said, handing you a punnet of strawberries he was munching on. “Be right back,” he trotted away and you lost him momentarily in the throng of people. Not too concerned, you busied yourself petting a few dogs you’d gotten tangled in leads of, but you couldn’t contain the grin on your face when he reappeared a few moments later, a bouquet of colourful bulbs in his hand, offered to you.
You liked farmer’s market Bradley.
“You’re the sweetest,” you said, extremely touched and accepting the flowers. They were gorgeous, but this wasn’t a few stems, this was enough for vases spread around the entire house. You touched his chest and clasped his white v-neck tee, bringing his face down to yours and kissing him just that little hungrier than you’d been kissing earlier. 
He giggled against your lips, his rough hands pressing into your ribs, massaging with his thumbs. “I’ll get you flowers every day if the response is this visceral.”
God, you wanted him. You wanted him everywhere.
Forehead to forehead, you momentarily lost the outside world and all you could see was him.
“I’ll have to make you blueberry pancakes next time to thank you…” you told him as he nodded, lips pursed and trying not to get too excited.
“Is this where I tell you I was a runner up in a state pancake eating challenge when I was 19?” he asked, giving you a cute side eye, acutely aware he was indulging something that was deeply personal from his past. He’d admitted he was always a bit uncomfortable talking about his childhood and teen years, with his family trauma and all. 
“Runner up?” you asked, somewhat impressed.
“Yup,” he eased a little, his large, warm hand sliding his fingers between yours, his thumb delicately rubbing against your wrist. “You’d think it would put me off pancakes, but nope,” he popped the P, giggling quietly.
“And you weren’t sick?” 
“Well, yeah. I’d just eaten my body weight in pancakes,” he explained. “I thought it was invincible then,” he said. “As I get older, I realise how untrue that is,” he said, leading you tenderly again.
“Do you get scared doing what you do?” you asked a little suddenly. Because even though you’d known him a short time, you’d realised what he did simply terrified you. It all seemed so second nature, but he’d flown into war zones, carried weapons that were made for the ultimate destruction and spent so much time away, that you suddenly felt very silly about it all. 
“I do sometimes,” he admitted. “I’ve flown in some missions that I was sure I wasn’t going to come home from,” he gripped your hand that little bit tighter as he went over to a butcher. “Steak?” he asked, turning his gaze to the small selection in front of you.
“Sure,” you said, a little rattled still at his last statements about him thinking about not coming home to you - well, home. It was presumptuous to think… well, you. You watched as he bandied with the vendor, chuckling at the choice and cuts of meat before you and while you were stuck in your head, he was suddenly before you again, a gentle smile upon his handsome features. 
“Earth to my sweetheart…” he sang quietly and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, dragging you in for a lovely cuddle. He kissed your hair, but you didn’t know how he let the sweet waft of your shampoo overwhelm his senses. “Sweetheart,” he sang. “Are you here on earth with me?”
And you wanted to say no, you wanted to tell him this all felt like such a good goddamn dream, you hoped you’d never wake up. “I’m with you,” you felt yourself saying as you wrapped your arms around him, slipping around his slender waist, your fingers daintily dipping under his casual white tee, drifting against the soft skin of his lower back, and you could feel him shudder under your touch. 
“I like that,” he murmured to you and only you, his hand tenderly grasping your jaw and kissing you. Kissing you thoroughly, like you weren’t in a local park, surrounded by all types as you got lost in each other. A kiss so simply sweet that your heart raced. “I don’t know what you’re doing, sweetheart, but you’re winning me over like no one ever before.” 
Blinking out of the kiss in the late morning sun, you watched as he licked his lips, peering down at you like he didn’t believe it was real.
“Bradley, this feels like a dream,” you admitted shyly. And although he didn’t answer, the way his lips danced into a small grin told you that it may not have been just you that felt like this. “You’re a dream.”
He shook his head slowly and every movement he made was like slow motion as he left his hands run down your body, a hand drifting down your arms to hold your hand again. Your hand fit perfectly in his, guiding you towards your car in the car park. And you followed because your thought process, all ability to think on your own, faded slowly, the more you spent time with him. 
As you met him at the car, he placed you under his body and the driver’s side door, secure and unable to escape as he pulled his aviators from his eyes and he lifted your sunnies too. “You’re perfect; I need you to know that I really am having fun and enjoy spending time with you.”
You pressed your hands into his chest, firm and sturdy, and all you could see was him. “I really like you, Bradley.”
“I really like you too,” he laughed to himself. “Maybe even like like.” 
It all felt so elementary, but even if you were in love, and with each passing minute you realised you were in fact, in love with Bradley Bradshaw. But saying those words before him? Never. You’d live with like like for now. 
“Take me on an adventure,” he said, clicking the car remote key in your hand and you slipped into the driver’s side, and he raced to the passenger side. Take him on an adventure… he lived a wild life. How could you impress him? It was nearly midday… and by your calculations, you needed 90 minutes to get to the Happiest Place on Earth (with a detour to drop your market items in the fridge at home). You grinned at him as he looked back at you with a keen interest. He could see your mind work and he chuckled quietly. 
“Okay.”
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“You don’t like adrenaline rides?” you asked incredulously. “You fly billion-dollar fighter jets for a living for extended periods of your day and this scares you?” you could feel amused laughter bubbling under the surface as you covered your mouth with your hands. And he looked so ridiculous with his Mickey ears you purchased for him on the way in and wide eyes.
“Well, I am in complete control of that jet,” he reminded you sternly, posture tight and standing to his full height. He was so, so tall and so handsome, even with the ridiculous ears you’d christened him with as soon as you entered the park. 
“This is, like, 60 seconds. 90 seconds max.”
“Nothing good comes in that amount of time,” and you could feel the smarminess in his tone as you cackled, dumping the ice cream in your hand in the passing bin and you dragged him into the ride line. You probably had 10-15 minutes to wait if you were lucky but you didn’t have the time to waste, you needed to get Bradley on as many rides as possible and you were a bit of a thrill seeker yourself. Guardians of the Galaxy awaited.
“How about I just take you up in my plane?” he offered as he watched you, giddy, on your toes. You laughed and told him a simple “no, thanks”. “I’m sure I could get some kind of clearance,” he rested his hands on your hips as he waited patiently behind you. 
“I’m about 99% sure that, no, in no world, you could ever get clearance for me to go up in your jet,” you let that laughter spill as he rested his lips on your clavicle and the huff of heat from his breath against your neck told you that you were probably right. “Where would I even sit?” You humoured him.
“On my lap,” he said. “Keeping me nice an’ cozy.”
Ridiculous. “And how would you see around me if I’m keeping your lap nice and cozy?”
“I’d make do. Always do.”
“Use the gear stick?”
He laughed at your loose interpretation of his jet’s controls you used but replied anyway, “Pretty sure I could just work through it,” from behind you he closed the distance from his belly to your back, easing you against him. “Pretty good with most things between my legs.”
You eased back and giggled gently. “There are families here…” you hinted.
“Don’t care,” you could feel his grin against your skin as his hands firmed around your waist, dragging you flush against his chest and like a constrictor, wrapping his muscular arms around your torso. “Just keeping you safe in the line for the ride,” the tip of his nose drifted to the shell of your ear and you melted against him. “You just never know what’s lurking around the corner these days…” 
“You’re trouble, Bradley Bradshaw.”
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Home hours later, the sun had set by the time you’d arrived back at your villa, dark as you entered the house. Bradley crowded you as you unlocked the door and he stumbled in behind you, a mess of limbs and tongues as he thanked you for the unplanned afternoon. You clutched the ridiculous photo from the ride that proved Bradley didn’t enjoy cheap thrill rides in the slightest. Your hand thrust up in the air giving a peace sign, awaiting the flash and sheer terror rang in his eyes, anticipating the next drop. It was hilarious and it was going straight up on the fridge as a reminder of your wildly fun, completely unplanned day.
You had grown so close so quickly and yes, today proved you were ruthlessly in love with Bradley. And as he kissed you, holding your body so close like you were one person, you weren’t sure how you could go back to the person you were before you met him.
He’d empirically changed your DNA, the beat of your heart and the permanency of the smile on your face.
“Come on,” he pulled back a little. “Let me make you dinner. You must be starved.”
“Dinner?” all the air in your head was dizzying and you didn’t even think about eating even if you muttered the whole trip home how hungry you were. 
“You know those steaks I got today? The veggies?” he teased. 
“You’re gonna cook for me?” you were a little touched, stumbling behind him as he led you to the kitchen, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips as you watched the rippling curve of his shoulders and traps. How were you ever going to get over him, you thought sadly.
“Of course,” he said, hitching you into the corner of the bench, pushing between your thighs and smiling, a gentle sigh escaping your lips. “Workin’ on the romance up in here,” he teased, touching your lower lip with his thumb. “I really had a great day today,” he confided, low.
“Me too,” you admitted, watching his lips keenly. 
“I’m gonna have to head back to the old man’s tonight…” he said softly. He was staying in town with his dad (of sorts), who you’d come to learn to be Mav. You didn’t know too much about him, or Bradley’s family aside from when he confided he was an orphan just before he turned 18 . You figured it was probably the main reason why you knew very little about him. “My clothes and stuff are there.” 
“You coming back?” you asked gently, not wanting to assume anything.
“I don’t want to impose…” he said. “I know you have work tomorrow morning.” 
“You can completely impose,” you reassure him as his face broke into a shy smile, a little bit of relief washing over him, cutting the tension of the close proximity. “Look… I know this is new and fast, even though it feels so slow with me being away. I really like like spending time with you.” 
“Like like…” you sighed quietly, ducking your eyes and while you teasingly mocked him, you prayed he may graduate to love and not leave you out on the ledge exposed and alone, believing it was only you feeling like this. No one liked feeling vulnerable in new relationships, but you needed to get a gauge on where he was. If he was swept up like you were. There was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that it was too fast, that you’d fallen too quick and for a man who demanded speed… he didn’t feel the same. You’d be okay with that, but you’d have to pull the breaks too.
“Do I need to say the words?” his voice so low, his usual air of confidence gone and pretences dropped. He seemed so soft, and willing as he tenderly kissed you, his fingers lacing into your hair, a tender tug as you gasped against his lips. “I think I’m in love with you. And I know it’s so fuckin’ quick, but it doesn’t change that I want you. That I need you…” he said so quietly you almost couldn’t hear him. 
And the words got caught in your throat as his honey-coloured eyes searched yours, desperate for your reply. 
“But if you’re not ready to say it back, that’s o - - ”
“I love you too, Bradley,” you told him as the flush in his cheeks deepened as he rested his forehead against yours. 
“Yeah?” 
“I do,” you nodded, softly as he cupped your chin and grinned. He may have been holding his breath as the huff of laughter fanned against your face and he kissed you. 
“I don’t know how this has happened, I wasn’t expecting this when we met,” he whispered, tilting his forehead to rest against yours. "Be mine?"
“I'm yours,” and now that you’d found him, you weren’t letting him go. 
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masterlist.
A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x
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merrinla · 6 months
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Halsin's Sorrow from early access
The old datamine looks like an alternate universe. I find some parts of it much interesting than in the full release. The part of Isobel's death, when Halsin killed her in self defense, after she attacked him for unknown reasons. Then Ketheric unleashed the shadow curse. These events were mentioned in Halsin's diary. And it's really emotional.
---------- [This is an ancient notebook, whose ink is faded and pages are starting to crumble. It's not easy, but some words can still be made out.]
How do you describe events like these? An accident? A tragedy? The cruelty of fate?
It does not matter. Isobel is just as dead.
I can't remember what happened with any clarity. We were negotiating. She with [...] I led the druids. [...] words grew heated [...] threw the first punch. It was mayhem.
[...] stared at me, my glaive's blade buried in her stomach and shock in her eyes. I can't believe she wanted to hurt me. It was pure instinct - the heat of combat.
[...] washed the blood from my hands. My glaive was still there, coated in her blood, but something else felt different. There's a sickness in the blade. It seems cursed, but by whom? Selûne herself?
It is locked away now. I do not trust its power in the wrong hands. And I never want to see it again. ---------- In Ketheric, I see my errors made manifest. He did not fall - he was pushed. His grief was twisted by shadow, but none could deny my hand gave that grief shape. ----------
He gave the glaive the symbolic name Sorrow. And in the description it caused psychic damage to the one who used it. ---------- A heavy, cold energy clings to the glaive like the blood rusted to its blade. It fills your very being with regret
The wielder takes 1 Psychic damage whenever they deal damage using this blade. ----------
Halsin saw Ketheric not as an enemy, but as a victim of circumstances. After all, he knew what it was like to lose family (in theory). And he obviously blamed himself that his actions provoked such a chain of tragic events. Even if it wasn't intentional. But he also understood that Ketheric needed to be stopped and put an end to the curse. That was his motivation to join you.
So earlier he was more intertwined with the main plot of Act 2. And I can only imagine what emotional interactions this trio could get. How would Halsin react to seeing Isobel resurrected? What would Ketheric say to the person who took his daughter's life? And what would Halsin answer him?
In the release version if you kill Isobel, then during the audience you will have an interesting conversation with Ketheric. He will tell you the story of his family so that you understand what it cost him. Maybe this is a rewritten dialogue of the previous plot.
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Isobel also has cut content. Оriginally more scenes were planned with her. For example, in one of them she sang.
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Anyway, although this is no longer canon, I hope someday the developers will reveal new surprising details about what was left behind the scenes.
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billskeis · 3 months
Text
♡゙  :  please me  𓈒      📹  ?
you look at bill who you lead into the bedroom. closing the door behind you, you press a small but sweet kiss onto his lips that leave him smiling. “what’s up schatzi?” he asks, his cheeks are a rosy pink as he stares at you.
“you’re just so breathtaking, bill—like i can’t get enough of this look!”
smut ahead!!!
laughing, he tilts his head, “where’s this coming from?” “i mean, come on, bill.. are you kidding? like you’re beautiful everyday but this hair.. it’s driving me crazy..” you stare at bill as he averts eye contact, clearly, you’re making him embarrassed by the unexpected compliments tonight.
but it’s true. for their new era, bill decided to get dreadlocks. tom says that he’s copying him but each of their hair looks totally and completely different despite following the same concept.
now don’t get it twisted, tom’s dreads were sick as fuck. but on bill?
it just unleashed this sort of sex appeal that cannot be explained, yet it suits him just right.
on top of that, for their humanoid era, bill’s fashion has been incredibly taunting. and it’s not just any piece of clothing, it’s the tank tops. let it be tight to show off his small waist and a little bit of bicep to prove he does a little work out on the side, it was sensual, and when you first witnessed it,
you swear gears started to turn in your head.
it didn’t pique your interest until one of the tank tops that bill wore was wayy more loose on him. slipping off his shoulder, “sorry meine liebe.. i just need to grab something,” as the strap of the tank top falls even lower, you peek through an opening to reveal his bare chest. he might as well have not worn anything today because he’s dressing like a total slut.
the little buds taunting you, as if they were trying to tease you on purpose. was he doing this to get at you or did he just completely not know..?
licking your lips, you rub your hands on bill’s shoulders, “can.. can i try something..?” bill’s eyes widen. the two of you weren’t really experimental in bed. your vanilla lifestyle had kept the two of you satisfied and never really branches out to the dark sides of intimacy.
until tonight.
“mmhm!” bill sounds excited, he himself wasn’t really the expert as mentioned, but would be willing to do and go through anything and everything if it was with you. you sit bill down on the bed. following after you swiftly take off the tank top that he was wearing off his torso.
a sharp inhale, as you looked at bill in all his glory. your eyes analyzed his body, he had also gotten a new tattoo that laid upon the side of his ribcage, it took four hours, and it was totally worth it because it was hot as fuck.
and you were the only one who could see it.
bill’s arms come up to hug his body in embarrassment, “y/n.. you’re staring s’much..” “sorry bill, can’t help it, my beautiful boyfriend is soooo hot..” you bring your hands to hold his arms that still wrap around his body. “now let me see you more? ja?”
he could only oblige when you lift away his arms with no trouble. placing each arm down to his side, you slide your hands up and down his chest, tickling him. “what’re you doing..?” bill’s chest heaves slightly, getting a little bit ticklish to the sensations of your hands moving across his body.
“just a little sumthin’” you stop your hands above his nipples. they’re so tiny. so tiny and so cute. standing above bill in front of him, all he could do was look up at you and bite his lip in anticipation.
you bring your fingers to circle around the muscle. just curious, into seeing how he would react. you would circle the pads of your fingers awfully slow, looking down at his chest and back up at his face.
twisted in confusion, bill didn’t know how to react. it was ticklish, uncomfortable. but some part of it brought upon pleasure, as you continued to move your hands across his chest the way you like, he could feel his pants becoming a tad bit tighter.
“you okay bill..?” “y-yeah.. feel s’weird, but i like it..” you come to sit and straddle his lap, kissing his lips and bringing your hands to run you fingers through his hair, “would you like me to continue?” bill just nods and looks back down shyly.
you grip onto his hair to make him look at you once more, “billy.. i need you to use your words,” “y-yes please..” “very well.” hands upon his chest, you fondle the tissue under your fingers while bringing his mouth to yours yet again.
you lick at his lips to ask permission, mouth slightly agape you take this as a sign and slip the muscle into his mouth.
bill didn’t even attempt to fight for dominance, tonight, he was gonna let you take over.
as your mouths entangle one another, you feel bill’s tongue piercing and run your tongue across it. while doing so, you thought to take it up a notch elsewhere and pinched his nipples.
“mm!” bill moans into the kiss, “feels good hm?” as you speak into the kiss. bill would just whine and essentially started to grind his hips onto yours after realizing you fully sat on top of him.
you lay bill down onto the soft mattress, legs hanging off of the bed as you still sat on him. trailing kisses down his body, you stop at his chest. “can i continue..?” “i need you to continue..” bill spoke with a breathy voice, he was needy, and was reallyyy into whatever you’re doing.
guiding your mouth towards one nipple, you take a lick and look up at bill’s face who’s eyes are squeezed shut and mouth agape. you further nip at the left bud while rolling the right between your index and thumb finger, almost pinching it.
switching from doing that, you suck on the skin around his nipples that cover his chest, leaving many hickeys. the both of you not caring where, just as long as they’re there.
you continue this stimulation until you feel bill shake under you. your body jolts up and looks down at bill. “bill! a-are you okay??”
his chest rises up and down, hard. arms raised above his head as he attempts to hide his face between that and the bed. his nipples were puffy and more swollen. the once small buds were now a tad bit larger than before, and you somehow made a ring of hickeys around his left nipple. the purple and blue discolouration decorating his pale skin, some of them following up his neck.
he’s a total and utter wreck.
not to mention, you look behind you as you feel a certain grinding at your butt and a wet spot that has developed on his jeans particularly near his crotch.
did he, did bill come by just having his nipples touched?
you laugh and giggle, bill playfully hits your chest, “you came!” “i-i know! god, so embarrassing..” “didn’t know my boyfriend was so sensitive,” “it felt really good.. i have to admit.” bill then brings your hand to unzip his jeans.
“now, let’s worry about this problem down here.”
a/n: i’m sorry i don’t know where i was going with this i was just brain-rotted by bill
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geeky-politics-46 · 6 months
Text
Kinktober 2023 - Day 2
Adultery with Arthur Shelby
"Just One Bite"
Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!
Summary: You & Arthur take comfort in each other's arms after Linda aims her wrath at both of you.
Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - adultery/extra-marital affair, injury/blood (only a little), jealousy, reference to potential verbal/mental abuse from Linda, swearing, pet names, fingering, creampie, vaginal sex, light dirty talk, little bit of fluff, little bit of angst
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From the moment you had been moved into the position of Arthur's secretary, his wife Linda had marked you as a whore out to steal, or at the very least corrupt, her husband. 
It was like she thought you had been sent personally by the devil to lure him away from Linda and negate her religious appeals to Arthur. You were the snake in the garden of Eden and yet somehow also the apple. Tempting Arthur to take a bite of you. You were an apple Linda was sure her husband could never resist. He would never be able to resist you and all that came with you after just one bite of your forbidden fruit.
None of that had been your intention, of course, at least originally. When you saw Arthur, you saw a man who needed help. You saw a man struggling to hold onto himself as he was pulled in all directions by opposing riptides. You just wanted to be the buoy to help keep him afloat or the lighthouse shining in the distance, showing him where the shoreline was. You wanted to help him and the rest of the Shelby's, and so that became your job.
It was Linda and her cruel behavior towards both you and Arthur that had driven the two of you together. That first night anything happened, it had all been because of her. She had stormed into his office at the Garrison in a rage over something, and once she was done with Arthur, she was still hungry for more blood. So she set her sights on you. Verbally abusing you and destroying your desk in the process. You knew she was probably high on cocaine. That was the only way you could explain the venom that she unleashed that night towards both of you. 
After she had finally left, silent tears started to slide down your cheeks. You refused to let her see you cry. Her words had cut far deeper than the damage done to your belongings and the business papers she had thrown around. In silence, you got down onto the ground and started cleaning up the mess. Uncrumpling and trying to piece together torn bits of paper. As you worked, you hadn't realized that Arthur was watching you or that you had kneeled down on shards of glass from a broken picture frame until he said something. 
"You're bleeding." 
His voice made you jump, and suddenly, you felt the small cuts on your knees. Stinging with the sudden movement. Quickly rocking to your feet to relieve the pressure on your newly discovered injuries. Blood smeared on the floor, several papers, and yourself. 
"I'm so sorry, Arthur, uh, Mr. Shelby. I'll get this cleaned up right away, and I'll retype any papers that I soiled or were damaged before I leave tonight." 
Just as quickly as you finished talking, Arthur responded. Your eyes snapped back up from the papers you had been trying to gather up. A softness in his blue eyes. You weren't sure whether it was sadness or caring. Maybe it was a mixture of both.
"No. No, you won't. We will clean this up together,  but only after you let me fix you up. Don't want one of the only nice, tolerable people in this city out sick because she let some silly cuts get all infected." 
You gave him a soft smile for his kindness. Still planning to dismiss his gestures, but he didn't give you the chance. 
"Come 'ere. I got a kit in my desk. Besides, it was my wife who made this mess. It's my job to clean it up, and that includes you." 
After quickly pulling the tin box from a drawer and grabbing a bottle of alcohol he patted the top of his desk. Signaling for you to sit there as he plopped down in his regular chair. He took a long swig from the bottle of whiskey and offered it to you. You followed suit. Needing something to calm your nerves, both from Linda's explosion and from the fact that you were currently sat on your boss's desk and you knew his head and his hands would soon be rather close to your most intimate places. You couldn't help but notice the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.
You crossed your legs at the ankles and squeezed your thighs together as you pulled your skirt up just over your knees. Your stockings were clearly ruined. They had become more or less shredded from the glass and tinged red from your blood. A sad sigh fell from your lips as you surveyed the damage. Arthur surreptitiously casting sidelong glances at you as he unpacked the first aid box. 
"These were my favorites too." 
"I'll make sure you get a little extra pay this week. To replace them. It's only fair. It's my fault, after all." 
You shrugged at his statement. If Arthur had his way, he would blame everything in the entire world on himself. That was one of the things you desperately wanted him to see differently. 
"Linda seems to think it's my fault."
"Yeah, well Linda's fucking mental. Not sure anything could ever be your fault. I'm not sure you've ever even made a spelling error, let alone any of the shit she's on about." 
You giggled at that. Your smile making his freckled cheeks blush just a tad.
"Well, if you think I've never made a spelling error, you may need your eyes checked, Arthur." 
You both shared a little smile. The flutter in your stomach picked up again as you looked into his eyes. A flush started to show more clearly on his cheeks before he quickly looked down. Starting to survey the scrapes on your knees. Clearly unsure of where to put his hands. 
"Ummm… I think I actually need to take these off. To make sure there isn't any glass in the cuts." 
He waited for you to respond, glancing up at you under his thick eyelashes. Part of him was waiting for you to shove him away for even suggesting he take off your stockings, but another part of him was ready to beg like a dog for a chance to touch you. 
Perhaps there was some truth to some of what Linda had accused him of. He did harbor a bit of a crush on you, but he was sure you were completely unattainable to him even if he wasn't a married man. Someone so sweet, intelligent, and drop-dead gorgeous would never fall for him. You were so far out of his league that you were in a completely different ballpark, and yet you didn't act like it. You didn't snub your nose at him or his family the way Linda always had. 
"Oh, um, okay. I trust you, Arthur." 
Your voice was a little shaky as you said it. Only because you couldn't read his emotions. Did he want you to do it? Or did he want to do it himself? 
In all honesty, you kind of wanted him to do it. You were already getting blamed for having an affair with him, when in reality, you just had a stupid school girl crush on your boss. This was probably going to be the closest you ever got to living out one of your fantasies. So, without another word, you kicked off your shoes and waited to see what would happen next. 
Arthur slowly placed one hand on your shin, gauging your response before slowly moving it up to the outside of your thigh to find the top of the stocking and your garter. Making sure you didn't protest before his other hand followed, this time on the inside of your thigh. Your legs spreading just enough to allow his hand access. Slowly pulling your garter off and setting it to the side before moving back to slowly start peeling your silk stocking down your leg.
His breath hitching when his fingertips brushed the supple skin of your inner thighs. You were so warm, and your skin was so incredibly soft. He had to bite on his tongue to keep from groaning. He repeated his actions on your other leg and had to fight the urge to touch you further. To spread you open for him just a little bit more. Just enough so he could bury his head between your thighs. He was sure you would taste better than the sweetest sugar.
You were suddenly very aware of the heat growing at your core as you watched his gentle movements. He touched you like you were a porcelain doll who would shatter if he was too rough. His calloused fingertips ghosted over your inner thigh. So very close to where you secretly wanted him to touch you. Where you thought that maybe, just maybe, he really wanted to touch you too. 
Once both your stockings had been discarded, Arthur started studying your wounds a little closer. Looking for any shards of glass that may have gotten stuck in your skin.. Bringing your feet up initially to rest on his chest, just below his shoulder, before realizing how much the image of you like that made his head spin. Settling to let your feet rest on his thighs Not that that worked to diffuse any of the sexual tension in the air that was growing thicker with each passing second. 
You could feel the strong muscles of his legs shifting under the soles of your feet as he moved to pour a decent amount of whiskey onto a clean rag. Part of you wanted to be exactly the kind of woman Linda already thought you were. How short a distance you would have to move your foot to start caressing Arthur's crotch. Wondering what he would feel like as you rubbed him. Wondering how big his cock was. The sounds he would make if you did. There was little point in denying what felt so obvious between you at that moment. 
You wanted him, and he wanted you just the same. You made a silent promise that you would treat him far better than Linda did. Your mind was thinking of all the things Linda probably refused to do that you happily would. There was no way she wasn't a prude in bed. You wondered just how many pleasures you could grant him that she wouldn't. How many pleasures he was used to being denied.
It was Arthur's voice that pulled you from your wicked thoughts.
"Right. This is gonna sting like hell." 
That was all the warning you got before he pressed the whiskey soaked rag onto the cuts. He was right. It hurt. You grabbed at your skirt, holding the fabric tightly in your fingers as you tried to breathe through the pain. Balling the fabric up in your fists and without realizing it, causing it to ride up, baring more of your thighs, and even granting Arthur a peek at the gusset of your panties. 
They weren't particularly fancy. A simple silk in a soft shade of mauve. He knew he was an absolute goner as soon as he saw them and how they were clinging to the plump lips of your cunt. He could practically feel you clench and relax your inner muscles as he moved the rag off of your now clean scrapes. He barely managed to keep his damaged mind focused long enough to place a gauze bandage on each knee. 
His resolve finally cracked completely when he had the idea to place a soft kiss over each bandage. A sweet gesture on its own, but when paired with his now dilated eyes, one that you knew meant he had more sinful desires on his mind. Your hand reflexively went to brush through his hair as his lips touched the first bandage. Gripping the longer strands when he moved to the second. 
His face began nuzzling the inside of your knee. His gruff whimpers against your skin, giving you a last chance to tell him to stop. To push him away. It only made you pull on his hair harder and spread your legs for him farther. A needy whine pulled from his throat before he bit the flesh of your inner thigh and began sucking a dark bruise there. His large hands had already moved to grab at your ass under your skirt to pull you closer to the edge of his desk.
Now that your body was well within his reach, he lifted his head from your lap and brought his lips to yours. Kissing you fiercely. Your teeth nipping at his lips and your tongues chasing one another without shame. The glowing embers of need blossoming into a full-fledged flame. 
"Arthur, are you sure about this. After everything that happened earlier. Are you sure you want this?" 
You caressed his cheek with the back of your hand. Opening your eyes to stare into his icy blue ones. 
"I'm sure, love. Even more now. It seems you and I are already cursed for something we weren't doing. Might as well get some fun out of it, and I'd gladly damn myself for you." 
He moved to kiss you again, but you pulled back again. Wanting to make sure this wasn't just a fleeting desire and that you would be canned by the next morning. A secretary was much easier to get rid of than a wife. 
"What about Linda?"
The mention of her name made his nostrils flair. Clearly still upset from her tantrum earlier. He brought his hands up to cup your face so you were looking him straight in the eye.
"Fuck Linda. You're the one I want. For a long time now. I don't want to deny it anymore. Just never thought you would want a sad old bastard like me."
You sighed and nodded. Giving him your permission to let his lips meet yours again. The soft tickle of his mustache making you smile as you kissed. Your arms slowly moving to loop around his neck and your legs moving to loop around his hips. Pulling his body into yours.
"Wanted you just as much. You may not see it, but you are incredible. Now, fuck me please, Arthur"
Arthur was all long limbs and taut muscles. A sharp contrast to your soft curves. Little did you know that was one of his favorite things about you. That you had so many curves and soft spots for him to touch, kiss, and explore. His hands were already moving up and down your sides, groping your ass and then your breasts as you kissed. 
You set to work on the first few buttons of his shirt. Reaching inside to feel his chest. Pulling your lips away from his to place a soft kiss on the cross tattoo over his heart. 
Arthur quickly followed suit. Leaving wet kisses down your neck before starting to pull at your blouse. His large, rough hands threatened to tear the fabric right off your body. It was like he couldn't possibly wait any longer to touch your bare skin.
"Careful Arthur. I still have to have clothes to walk home in, and I've already lost a good pair of stockings today." 
Your teasing tone told him you weren't upset at his overzealousness. He chuckled in your ear and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a bear hug. You could feel his hips starting to rut into you. His excitement now becoming apparent in more ways than one. 
"Sorry, lovey. I've just wanted to touch you like this for so long. It takes every ounce of control I have not to pull you into me lap every time you come in here. You're re always so fuckin' sweet and nice to me even when I feel like shit."
He pulled back and started unbuttoning your top with a much more careful touch. Leaning in to kiss your lips with each button he undid. Gazing down as your bra came into view. It clearly matched the panties you were wearing. It was the same mauve silk but with a lace edging along the tops of the cups. 
Arthur groaned as he drug the back of his fingers along the lace. Your breath catching in your chest and making your breasts bounce slightly. With Arthur distracted by the sight of your lingerie, you took over the task of undressing. Shrugging your open blouse back off of your shoulders and tossing it to the side. Letting him bring both of his hands up to play with your tits while you moved back to finish unbuttoning his shirt and removing it. 
His fingers moved to pinch at your nipples through the soft fabric as you began undoing his pants. A soft moan falling from your lips at his touches. You slipped your hand into his pants and palmed his hardening cock through his boxers. Starting to slowly stroke his length.
"Fuck, love. You keep that up I'm gonna cum in your hand."
You smiled against his lips. Your wicked side was beginning to show more as your encounter went on. You reached behind your back with one hand and unhooked your bra. Only pulling your hand from Arthur's pants to finish removing your bra so you could toss it to the side into the growing pile of discarded clothing. 
"Well, we don't want that. Better hurry up and finish undressing me then."
You hopped off the desk and brought Arthur's hands to the hook and zipper of your skirt. Bringing your lips to his throat and starting to suck and bite at his neck. Half tempted to leave your mark there for Linda to see. So she could see what she had driven the two of you to do. 
You restrained yourself, though, at least for now. Knowing that both you and Arthur would want this to be more than a one-time thing. There would be a time down the road for you to flaunt your dalliances.
Your skirt soon hit the floor, and you pushed his pants down to match. Leaving you in just your pretty mauve panties and him in his simple white boxers. Your hands exploring each other's bare skin as you kissed. His hands slipping into the back of your panties to grope your ass. Slipping them down enough for them to fall to the floor on their own. Kicking your feet to rid yourself of them completely.
He lifted you back up onto the desk now that you were totally naked. Bringing one hand around between your legs as you settled. Letting his long fingers finally touch your cunt, feeling how wet you had gotten for him already. Nuzzling into your neck, his mustache tickling you as he whispered in your ear.
"Holy fuck. You're so wet darling. You are an eager little thing ain't ya? All of this really for me?"
You mewled at his questions. Knowing that he already knew the answers. Letting your hips start to roll against his fingers, trying to urge him on. Sighing in relief when you felt two of his fingers sink into your heat. The little bit of stretch making your back arch and your nails grip into his biceps. 
Arthur pulled away to watch his fingers thrust in and out of you. Growling at the sight of your slick coating his fingers. It was something he thought he would only ever fantasize about. Occasionally stroking your clit with his thumb and making your hips jerk forward. 
A smile on his face as he watched your eyes start to roll back in your head. Pulling his fingers away when he felt you starting to clench around them. Denying you your orgasm and making you pout. Your bottom lip pushed out and looking oh so biteable.
"Arthur, please. I was so close."
He chuckled as he licked your sweet nectar from his fingers. Just one taste, and he knew he was already addicted to you. Frankly he couldn't wait until he would get a chance to eat you out, but right now he needed to fuck you.
"Uh uh love, the only time you are gonna cum tonight is on my cock." 
With that, he pushed his boxers down. Finally freeing himself and giving you your first real glimpse of his cock. Standing proud and hard, just for you. His dark pink tip wet with precum. You couldn't help but whimper at the sight of him. Your legs immediately reaching to wrap around his hips and pull him to you. 
He happily let you. Loving how much you wanted him. How impatient you were to have him inside you. You were almost more impatient than he was. Your hips were bucking as soon as you felt his long length stroke through your wet folds. 
"Don't worry, love. I'm gonna give you exactly what you want. Just want to hear you ask for it. All sweet like you are when you ask me for stuff during work. Like the good little angel you are." 
You purred at his statement. You could be his little angel if that's what he wanted, but you also wanted Arthur to see your devilish side, too. So, with one hand, you braced yourself on his desk and wrapped the other around the back of his neck. Giving him your best doe eyes and letting your hips wantonly grind against his shaft. Hitching your legs up even higher to spread yourself open more for him.
"Please Arthur, I want your cock inside me. I want you to fuck me so bad. I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted you for so long. Please fuck me. Make me yours Arthur." 
He growled and quickly positioned his fat tip against your weeping hole. Cursing at how wet you were. He had never felt Linda anywhere near as turned on as you were, and even though he knew that what you were about to do was wrong, it felt oh so right. So, without even thinking, he pulled off his wedding band and threw it somewhere in the distance. Not caring about having to find it later.
He grabbed a hold of your hips and kissed you fiercely. His short nails leaving imprints in your skin. He slowly started pushing into you. Your moans quieted by his kisses as he stretched you open. Eventually, bottoming out and leaving you feeling impossibly full. 
Arthur waited a moment, trying to calm his breathing and letting you adjust to him. He could hardly control himself when he looked down between you and saw his cock nestled in your cunt. Your pussy lips hugging him tightly. He couldn't help but start shallowly thrusting in and out of you. His hair falling in front of his face and his nostrils flaring. His animalistic side clawing beneath the surface. 
"Go on, Arthur. Fuck me hard. I know you want to." 
Now that he had your permission, he did exactly that. Pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you. His thrust was so hard your hips lifted off the desk. He waited a few seconds to see if you would object to his hard thrusts, and when all you did was grip onto his neck tighter, he began pounding into you faster. The desk was starting to rock underneath you and scrape across the floor. His lamp falling and the ledger books dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.
Neither of you cared, though. Your moans and grunts growing louder with each passing moment. Arthur biting into your shoulder and neck as he fucked you with abandon. Surely leaving marks that you would have to deal with tomorrow. The force of his cock knocking your breath from you.
Arthur moved one hand behind your back to hang onto you as he brought the other to your clit. Starting to stroke his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves and immediately making you clench around him. His thrusts started to become sloppy and irregular. 
"I'm gonna cum inside this perfect little cunt. You want that, eh? Just felt you squeeze me tighter darlin.  I think you're gonna cum too. Cum on my cock and I'll fill you up so good. That's it, love. Cum on your boss's cock." 
His words pushed you over the edge. Crying out Arthur's name as you spasmed around him. Your legs were shaking, and your body was threatening to collapse onto the desk below you. Arthur pulled you into his chest, keeping you upright as he kept frantically fucking you. Chasing his own high. Grunting and growling in your ear. 
After another few thrusts, you felt his hips stutter and the warmth of his release started to fill you. The most beautiful moan fell from the normally intimidating gangster. It was full of vulnerability and made you hang onto him even tighter as he filled you up. His orgasm seemed never-ending, but frankly, both of you were quite content to stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you.
You held each other as you came down from your orgasms. Kissing and wiping the sweat from each other's brows. Caressing each other and letting your heart rates fall. Both of you groaning when Arthur finally pulled out of you. Taking a moment to watch his cum start to leak out of you. 
With a cheeky smirk on his face, he scooped it back up and rubbed it over your swollen sex making you gasp before bringing what was left on his fingers up to your lips. You opened your mouth and sucked his seed from his fingers. Your tongue dancing and licking up every drop. His smile growing and a soft 'good girl' quietly fell from his lips.
The two of you slowly helped each other redress. Arthur, taking an extra moment to admire the sight of you in your beautiful silk underwear before helping you with your skirt and blouse. You couldn't help but smile as you redid his bowtie for him. His fingers drawing little shapes on your lower back as you did. Brushing his hair back into place and smoothing down his mustache before standing on your toes to press a soft kiss on his lips. Neither of you quite ready to leave the imaginary world you created together. 
He let go of you and went out to your desk. Watching him gather your jacket and handbag as you slipped your shoes back on. Coming back and placing your handbag on his desk while he worked to straighten out your coat.
"Come on, darlin'. Let's get you home, eh? I'm not letting you walk home alone at this time of night with those gorgeous legs bare and on display."
You slipped your garters into your handbag. Having no use for them now that your stockings were in Arthur's trash bin. Letting him slip your coat on before taking his own long dark coat that was far too large for you and slipping it over your shoulders. You buried your nose in the collar. Inhaling the scent of Arthur's cologne.
You looked out at the mess still sitting on the floor around your desk. Sighing at the work that still needed to be done.
"What about that mess, Arthur? I still need to clean all of that up."
He took your hand in his and started leading you to the door. Not really caring if anyone saw him holding your hand. After tonight he really couldn't give a fuck who saw you together. Come the light of day he knew he would probably feel guilty and tomorrow he would probably find himself crawling around the floor of his office to find his wedding ring. It wouldn't stop him from coming back to you again and again, and he knew both of you knew it. Tonight though he just wanted to indulge in you without the guilt. 
"Fuck it. I'll make Finn and Isiah do it in the morning. You've got more important work now. Besides I'm thinking you'll be a bit tired tomorrow by the time you come in."
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sabersandsnipers · 6 months
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Ascend
Author’s Note: I kept thinking about the relationship between Astarion and Tav and how it reminded me of Galadriel and Sauron from Rings of Power. So I wrote this. There are straight quotes from Rings of Power so credit to that.
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You couldn’t deny the attraction you felt for him. How seeing him draped across his throne made your body flush with heat. In all your travels with him, you made sure he knew you were nothing more than companions. Despite the tension between you two, you knew if something more were to happen, it would be disastrous. Your moral compass was set in a different path than his.
But he was a great companion. Trusting, despite his actions. Sure, you didn’t agree with his choices from time to time, but he was a great fighter, and loyal. 
Now, though, he’s become the Vampire Acsendent. Ruling from his throne to unleash darkness upon the land. And now he’s asked for your presence in the throne room. It’s still odd to see him in such power, after coming from nothing with him. 
When he sees you enter, his eyes darken. His legs are splayed open as he sits. The sight of him makes it suddenly hard to breathe. You slowly approach him, trying to ignore how small you feel.
You stop at the steps approaching the throne. He stares down at you, eyes taking in every inch of you. 
“Closer,” he says, his voice low. 
You attempt to keep your legs from shaking as you ascend the steps to him. He slowly rises once you’re in front of him. You keep still, stopping yourself from shrinking back. This is Astarion. You have no need to fear him. 
“I have a proposition for you.”
Your stomach twinges at his words. What does he want?
And then he steps closer to you. His hand comes up to grip the back of your neck. Not too tightly, but enough to keep you from moving away. He angles your head up so you’re looking right at him. And he pulls you closer to him, your hands instinctively coming up to his chest, keeping a small distance between you. 
“Marry me,” he says. 
A dark weight hits you in the chest. Is he mad?
“You know how much you mean to me. We could rule together. We could bring a new order to this realm. And spread a great darkness over this land…for our children.”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. He knows how hard you have fought to bring freedom and light to all. Joining him would go against everything you stand for. 
“You would make me a tyrant?” you whisper, voice trembling. 
“I would make you a queen,” he replies. “Fair as the sea and the sun.” 
He enters your mind then, his magic projecting an image in your head. You see yourself standing beside him in the throne room, a silver crown atop your head. You wear a slender, open-backed dress. He holds you flush against him, his hand against the small of your back. And you’re staring up at him, love in your eyes. 
And then the image is gone. You take in his expression, one of admiration and love. Why are you tempted by his offer? What he showed you…you looked so happy. And there’s something else. Something you’ve never longed for, but now there’s a twinge within you that craves it. 
Power. 
You look down to his lips. A voice in the back of your head is telling you to say no. Your whole life, you’ve done the right thing. Rejected the most basic pleasures because you had a greater purpose. 
And now, you can’t help but feel sick of it. You want him. You want to be his queen and rule his subjects. 
Your lips meet his, cool and sweet. The hand on the back of your neck grips you tighter. A hand snakes to your waste to pull you closer. The release you feel is so sweet. The weight of the world is finally shaking from your shoulders. 
His lips are hungry, never wanting to leave you. But you pull away for a moment and meet his gaze. He’s breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly against your hands. 
“I will marry you,” you tell him. He grins at you wickedly. Something dark but delicious stirs in your chest at his excitement. This is your time. Your time to explore feelings you never thought possible, to feel a power you never thought you could have. 
And best of all, it’s your time to love Astarion. 
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