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jubileemon · 3 months

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Explaining Huskerdust slowburn

Huskerdust is one of the most popular ships within the Hazbin Hotel fandom, which started with their first interaction in the pilot.

From the outset, Angel Dust shows a clear attraction towards Husk, which is evident from his immediate flirtatious behavior upon Husk's arrival as the hotel's bartender. This attraction is not subtle as Angel Dust is overt in his advances, often pushing boundaries. On the other hand, Husk was initially dismissive and annoyed by Angel's flirtations, responding with expletives and a general attitude of disinterest. Yet, this sets the stage for a relationship that promises to evolve slowly over time.

Although they started off bad, with Husk often finding great irritation in Angel's continued advances, their relationship would begin to deepen as the series progresses.

In the beginning, Husk made it no secret that he was forced to stay at the hotel because of his ties to Alastor and would gladly get as far away as he could if able to. He's addicted to gambling, much the same way Angel is addicted to drugs and sex. He used to be an Overlord but gambled away his bound souls until he got desperate enough to sell his own soul to Alastor.

While his words were poorly timed, pushing Angel's buttons after he'd just suffered a night of abuse from Valentino in "Masquerade", it's hard to deny that Husk is right to be frustrated with Angel's sexual harassment. He's cuttingly accurate when he points out how Angel's lewd and carefree behavior is all a self-destructive act that he hides behind to avoid his problems, and that nobody in the Hotel is particularly impressed with or taken by the front he puts up.

In the episode "Masquerade", a pivotal moment occurs when Husk rescues Angel from a potentially dangerous situation at a club that shows a protective side under his gruff exterior. Afterwards, Husk continues to remind Angel that he can stop his act. However, Angel, shedding tears and expressing his sadness, lashes out at Husk as they argue, explaining he needs to be who he is in order to break himself, both to wash away his misery and escape Valentino.

Saddened by this, Husk helps Angel recognize the parallel misery, which led to them both admitting their regrets and Husk revealing his past as an Overlord to Angel.

Husk getting through to Angel Dust in the manner he does makes a considerable amount of sense when it's taken into account that the first step to overcoming drug addiction is usually getting the addict to acknowledge they even have a problem. Angel hasn't been able to get better despite having some genuine interest because he's been utterly refusing to admit he has a problem to fix, the moment he does his mood drastically improves as does his motivation.

The song 'Loser, Baby' became an uplifting melody for Husk and Angel Dust's relationship. It encapsulates the message that while they may see themselves as losers, they aren't alone in their struggles.

The whole song is just "Stop thinking you're special". Some people may see that as a bad message (at first) considering what Angel goes through, but like him, staying in that mindset of "No one knows what I'm going through, no one else knows what it's like to be me, etc." would not be good for him at all as it would create a barrier of isolation. To be clear, the point is that Husk calls Angel a loser because people, especially very hurt people, need to break their cycle of self-loathing somehow. And sometimes, sometimes, people need to hear that they are, in fact, a loser. But that's okay because a lot of other people are too. This is even reflected in the song, with Angel initially assuming Husk is mocking him, but eventually picking up what he's actually saying. The message isn't "You're not special lmao," it's actually "You're not alone in this, and embracing that is a big step in getting out of it."

A small detail many fans have noticed is that whilst Valentino is very forceful with Angel Dust both emotionally and physically, during the song “Loser, Baby,” Husk is never seen grabbing Angel Dust at all during the song, only ever offering his hand out for him to accept. It's apparent that Husk is expressing more interest in Angel Dust, after seeing that he isn't as shallow as he comes off to be. Since then, Angel and Husk have formed a special bond through being vulnerable and honest with each other. But this scene also shows Husk's concern for Angel's well-being, especially when it comes to drugs and a potential relapse.

In the episode "Welcome to Heaven", Cherri invites Angel and Husk along with Niffty and Sir Pentious to a bar. During this scene, Cherri tries to motivate Angel to take drugs as a way to relieve stress. Husk reminded Angel it would destroy his progress. Husk then admits that Angel succumbing to drugs would really disappoint him. Angel declines the offer, making Husk smile, but later starts heavily drinking, something Husk disapproves of.

This concern is reciprocated when Angel Dust takes care of a drunk Niffty, suggesting a shift from his earlier, more self-centered behavior. The confrontation with Valentino, where Husk is ready to defend Angel Dust, further cements their bond.

Angel was very attracted to Husk and didn't hide it, with his constant boundary pushing flirtation. After being called out for this behavior, Angel not only begins a genuine bond with the cat demon but also stops the annoying, aggressive flirtation.

As they were preparing to fight the exorcists, Husk unconsciously makes a sex comment saying that "Angels won't stop coming", and Angel laughs at this remark. Husk realizes the double meaning of it, and laughs admitting his mistake.

During the bar scene in "The Show Must Go On" an instrumental of "Loser, Baby" plays in the background during Angel and Husks' conversation, which further underscores the hidden depths of their bond. Angel takes Charlie's words to heart about living however you want that night since it may be your last. How does he choose to do it? By simply having a drink with Husk and Cherri Bomb. Husk even notes that he's changed quite a lot since he came to the hotel.

Also, the way he looks at Husk and the little piano reprise of "Loser, Baby" playing in the background. Angel's feelings for him may run deeper than they seem... 😍

#huskerdust #huskdust #angel dust #angelhusk #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin angel dust #hazbin analysis #tumblr milestone #vivziepop #hazbin hotel vivziepop #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #angel dust x husk #hazbin #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel spoilers

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doobean · 7 days

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ROMAN HOLIDAY ─ NAGI S.

synopsis: Nagi Seishiro has a plethora of secrets up his sleeves. He knows that Reo loves being in the center of attention—well, no, that's a fact. But one thing that Nagi knows for sure is that the Mikage Corporation is on the verge of filing for bankruptcy. And what better way to prevent that than to have an arranged marriage with another powerful company? You're intelligent, beautiful, and obedient. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long for Reo to fall for you, and you seem to be content with everything—at least, you pretend to be. Nagi knows you're head over heels for his best friend, but doesn't understand why you hate his guts.

contents: explicit content, afab!fem!reader, bathroom sex, kinda cheating/kinda not really, piss involved towards the end, dubcon, hate sex, nagi centric, reader comes from an affluent family, power/dominance play, frottage, descriptors of a curvy, busty reader, breast play/nipple play, facials word count: 4.8k a/n: this fic is for all the nagi haters out there ig @niitoshi + @pipppinn (u get a rest from beta reading ur enemy)

You’re an absolute menace.

Nagi had no clue, when his best friend had introduced you as his potential fiancee months ago, just how big of an impact it was going to have on his life. In most cases of Nagi’s lack of social life, he originally had no intentions of befriending you, at least, outside of introductions and shorthand greetings whenever he crashed over at Reo’s apartment. To him, it didn’t make sense to get close to you, even if you were going to be a major part of Reo’s life.

Unlike his best friend, you appeared reserved and uptight, much like all the other affluent students he surrounded himself with back in high school and university. Nagi thinks he’s only received one ‘hello’ from you, and that was just from the first meeting. You’ve always attached yourself to Reo, whenever he’s around, and Reo would somehow play it off as you’re just “shy” around others.

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Reo had assured him with a firm shoulder clasp. “She’ll eventually warm up to you.”

And while Nagi still has a hard time believing that, he didn’t feel the need to continue the conversation knowing that Reo wouldn’t get the hint. You don’t flaunt your wealth and status around, but Nagi has always sensed that you were looking down on him. Why else would you always stare at him?

You come from a family of ‘self made’ entrepreneurs and billionaires.

From all those last minute conferences meetings that Reo would have him attend, simply because his best friend would lose track of time whenever they’re together, Nagi knows that your father owns a famous construction company that’s somehow affiliated with the Mikage estate. From one shareholders’ meeting, he’s learned that your family owns 60% of all rental properties in Japan, and he doesn’t know if that’s something to be proud of. Coming from a semi-wealthy family himself, Nagi is well aware that there’s no such thing as an ethical billionaire.

He’s seen your family name plastered on billboards before, shining over the neighborhoods in Akihabara, and the company sounded impressive enough that Reo’s father didn’t hesitate to bring up the topic of marriage during a conversation about future prospects.

Reo didn’t seem to mind, or rather he tried really, really hard to mask any trace of anxiousness and annoyance when he signed the NDA papers. Nobody wants to be in a loveless, arranged marriage, after all. Especially not when they still have their whole youth ahead of them. Though, needless to say, Reo fell for you rather quickly. Nagi’s aware he’s not the best at expressing his emotions, but anyone with a sensible brain could obviously tell you’re the standard stereotype of “wifey material”.

Quiet. Intelligent. Extremely obedient to the seniors around you. Nevermind the fact that your behavior reflects your style as well. Your makeup never strays from being “too little” or “too much”. The outfits you wear always reminded Nagi of those old British dramas from the late 90s, he thinks Reo calls it “old money” fashion. Whatever that means.

He just knows that it’s classy and fits whatever housewife aesthetic you’re trying to go for. Even though he can easily see through how much you hate it. You’re always picking at the threads in annoyance, as if they’re tight, itchy, and alien on your body. Even when he watches your pretty, plump lips smile and nod towards everyone around you, you always quickly turn sour when you think no one’s watching.

At age twenty four, Nagi carefully watches his best friend enter the room with you wrapped around his arm, from the corner of the banquet hall. Today’s a celebration, a huge one, because Reo just completed his accelerated MBA program and, therefore, is one day closer to filling in his father’s shoes as CEO of the Mikage Corporation. This also means he’s one step closer to becoming a married man. Soon, you’re going to be a permanent fixture in Reo’s life. That thought alone had his tongue swelling up in his mouth, and urged himself to get it together.

The event ends up being treated like a work gala. Everyone is dressed in black tie, the smell of warm leather fills the air, Nagi only half understands the business jargon being thrown around, and the food looks rather bland for what it’s worth. Most of the guests are crowded around Reo and his father, and he can only assume the business executives are trying to wiggle their way in to just get a chunk of free shares.

He notices you standing to the side, in the midst of your own conversation with your father. Your outfit throws Nagi off, slightly. It’s certainly different from your previous choices, more modern and form fitting, highlighting certain assets that makes it slightly even more obvious why certain men in the room couldn't stop their gawking.

Somehow, even though you’re caught up in a seemingly heated conversation on the other side of the room, Nagi catches your stare. Your eyes, facial expression, and even aura feels uncomfortably blank, despite the small smile you force out.

He merely awkwardly waves back and, for whatever reason, you take that as a sign to make your way over. He can only groan inwardly as he watches you exit out your current conversation and thread gracefully through the stuffy crowd, somehow showing up with two empty wine glasses in hand. Originally, his plan was to just show up for the free food, say hi to Reo, then prepare an Irish exit. With the look you’re currently giving him, Nagi feels like he can’t plan an escape.

You turn around and reach for a bottle of wine on the bar cart, a brand that Nagi could never pronounce correctly despite the numerous times that he’s heard it leave from Reo’s mouth. It’s also the same imported wine from France that all three of you shared the day Reo had introduced you to him. From what Nagi remembers, it didn’t leave a good taste.

You end up pouring the two glasses, then whirl back around to face him, quickly setting the drink down by the end table. Nagi picks up his glass as soon as it's available, but you clink yours against it before he could bring it up to his lips.

“Do you have a moment?” you mumble quietly.

“For what?” he’s honestly surprised to hear that many words coming from you.

“I…” you trail off, looking down into your drink and unconsciously hug your sides. Nagi uses this opportunity of silence to sip. Then, after a moment, you shake your head a little, clearly flustered over something.

“I want to talk to you about Reo, about your friendship and me fitting into that. I’ve been thinking about it for a while but I haven’t had the chance to bring it up.”

Nagi just nods, sipping again, not sure if he’s pleased or disappointed by your response. Of course the very first thing you bring up after not speaking a word to him for months is about their friendship.

He then notices that you’re suddenly rubbing your palms, hands alternating between them as you stretch your fingers out. You’re grimacing slightly, and Nagi leans back against the wall, something stirs inside of him at the sight of you appearing in distress. He’s not sure what to make of the odd feeling.

With a shrug, he tilts his head. “Go ahead with it.”

You meet his eyes and shake in disapproval, setting down your wine glass. “I need to speak with you in private about it.”

Nagi doesn’t say anything, and a moment of silence passes between you two as several high executives try to usher the rest of the crowd to the next room for an unrelated conference meeting. At one point, a clientele calls you over for a drink, and you disappear to join him for one, leaving Nagi to stew in his own thoughts once more.

A part of him wants to go over to Reo, telling him what happened, why you’re suddenly being so vague and direct with him after all this time. However, with one glance at his best friend, who’s currently knee-deep in a conversation between his father, the idea dies out. He’s never seen Reo this relaxed and determined before.

Maybe the closest expression he shared was when they were both heavily sprawled out on the turf field after an intense football match back in high school, but even then Nagi doesn’t even think he’s seen Reo this content. He wants to believe that you’re simply just asking about potential wedding details, maybe to even join in on the planning, but that’s laughable. You seemed nervous, and not for the right reasons.

He shouldn’t be here, glass half empty, stomach barely full from all these damn healthy finger foods, sitting under the appraising and curious eyes from other businessmen and yourself.

“Nagi, an answer?” you probe, as if hearing his thoughts when you finally return.

Were you always this demanding? He shifts in place and adjusts the collar of his suit, and tries his best to sound unaffected. “Right now?”

You finally smile, and it lights up your entire face. “Right now.”

At that, Nagi downs the rest of his drink.

You eventually coax him to an empty hallway, down the corner next to the fire escape, while everyone else is preoccupied with the meeting. You kept reiterating that it’ll be quick, that Nagi will understand what’s the “problem”, but he doesn’t believe it one bit. Not when you’re squeezing both sides of your arms and keep glancing down the hallway, anxious to be seen.

Without warning, you blurt out, “Please, stop dragging down Reo. I want you out of his life.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet is drenched with anxiety and the barest edge of vexation.

“What?” Nagi can’t help but be offended. The reluctance on your tongue contradicts the harsh order.

“I’ve seen the way he talks to you. You’re a distraction to him and having you around will just—”

“He can say what he wants about me. Why do you care so much? Your only job is to sit by his side.”

“Nagi, please—”

“Forget it,” he can’t seem to find an answer to your demand. It doesn’t make sense, and even if he did make out an answer, his brain is currently too distorted and torn to process a coherent response.

You stand your ground and the next few words are fumbling over the other, “I’ve… never liked you since the day I met you.”

That doesn’t surprise him. You aren’t much of a talker, but then again, neither is he. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re currently having an unusual personality shift—almost as if you’re revealing a bit of truth about yourself to him, and only him. Reo probably doesn’t know that this side of you exists.

Nagi doesn’t bother to respond. He only rests his back against the bathroom door behind him, crossing his arms over his chest in irritation, and stares down at you. In that moment, he can see the raw edge of your bubbling… is it anger he’s sensing? Your body is filled with tension and he can’t imagine why. Your eyes are boring into his and refusing to let go.

Suddenly, Nagi feels his frustrations growing thicker.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

You step closer, eyes narrowing, yet you look conflicted. “I could say the same thing.”

The proximity of you—the blend of sweat, bergamot, and something that could only be described as bitterness—makes Nagi dizzy. The space of this hallway, once ample, now feels suffocatingly small.

“Nagi,” you seeth out, a plea that’s both sounding an invitation and surrender. “This is a business deal. If this doesn’t fall through it’ll look bad on us and—argh, I really need this to work out, okay?” You quickly clamp a hand over your mouth, as if surprised that the words flooded out.

It wasn’t much spilled, but he understands the gist of it. Your frantic explanation earns him a curt laugh, one that’s distinctly him. He almost feels sorry that you were forced to do this, all of this. But you could’ve also easily gone against it, too. “You can’t think for yourself, can you? This is why I can’t stand these heirs and heiresses, you’re all a bunch of hassles to be around.”

“Fuck you.” you’re cracking under pressure. The makeup, dress, your hair… The facade of being perfect and plain slowly comes crumbling down the longer Nagi stands there, unwavering. “I can think for myself.”

“Prove it.” His tone is a dangerous one, spoken with an even tone.

You take another step forward, slow and purposeful. It serves as a reminder that your background is influential, powerful, and that you’re no puppet. Nagi wants to believe that more than you do.

He would be doing himself a disservice if he hasn’t admitted that there’ve been nights where he does think about you. What life would be like if you haven’t given him the cold shoulder, times where he wishes he could understand all the hidden languages spoken between you and Reo, and if you would’ve treated him any differently.

So, Nagi’s command is framed as a tease, and knowing how you really are now, you’re not going to leave until you give him an answer. Nagi Seishiro hates the rich, hates dependent people even more, but he’s a good guy when he tries to be. You, on the other hand, might be ruining that for him.

He watches as your plump lips part, and a needy little sound escapes. It sounds like a damn moan that’s absolutely dripping in desperation. Nagi lets out a breath, feeling his insides liquefy and overflow. His cloudy eyes search your face, and the dark overcast over your eyes instantly hooks him in. He can see the wetness where your lips separate, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with the desire to trap your mouth between his.

Nagi drops his hands to both sides of your face and holds your cheeks tight in the expanse of his calloused palms, drawing himself closer to you when he feels your hand latch onto his forearm. Your cheeks are warm and soft beneath his touch and, without a second thought, you both close the gap.

You gasp into his mouth as his lips claim yours with a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation, a heated urgency that clears any uncertainty. He feels your other hand shooting up and roughly tugging at his silver locks, a stark contrast to your passive actions earlier. His hands roam over your body, tracing and mapping your curves with extreme possessiveness.

Nagi wants more. Wants your hands even lower, on his thighs, between his legs, wants your pretty lips wrapped around the base of his cock. He wants you, but not here. He wants to leave here with you, see where you live, do this on the comfort of your mattress, inhale the scent of your sheets, and rid your mind of his best friend and that damn business proposal.

“Excuse me? Is somebody there?”

You pull away first with a concealed string of curses by the intrusion, gasping for air as soon as you separated, the hand you have on his forearm is now trembling. Whether it's from excitement, fear, or a combination of the two—Nagi can’t tell.

He peers over to find a security officer patrolling around, radio in hand, at the end of the hallway. From this angle, where the corner curves slightly, it doesn't seem like he’s able to make the two of you out, at least for now. The last thing he wants is for the media to highlight why you were seen alone with him. He’s already got enough on his plate with professional football on its own. Kissing his best friend’s bride to be is something entirely different. He doesn’t want to wait around to find what might happen.

“Fuck, fuck, where should we—”

“Quit freaking out,” he pulls the handle behind him and tugs on your waist, ushering you inside the bathroom as the sounds of sharp loafers against marble creep closer. Bewilderment flashes across your face as he shuts the door and locks it. He ignores your swarm of questions and props you against the sink’s countertop in an instant.

You appear terribly confused with yourself as he cages you in between his arms, his head leaning against yours with a dark look in his eyes. Your lipstick is smeared at the corner of your lips, your hair is nothing but a disheveled mess, and your damn breasts— Nagi looks down and scoffs —you're not wearing a bra. He soon realizes that this look suits you better than any other outfit you’ve worn.

“What was that,” you try to say, but he quickly keeps your busy mouth occupied again. His fingers trail up your shoulder blades, easily slipping down the top half of your dress, and soon your breasts fall free — round, heavy, and soft.

Your chest heaves as you breathe in sharply, tongue darting out to wet your lower lip. “You’re such a dick,” you shoot him a misty glare, defiant in tone despite every bit of your body language screaming submission.

This is enough to set him off. Nagi’s fingers curl into your waist, sighing in pleasure when you whine at his harried touch. He lifts you from the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist, as he pushes your back against the door. The frame and his greedy palms on your fleshy ass serves as support as he begins to shamelessly grind against you, the needy, aching pressure from his arousal fights through his slacks.

God, he wants to fuck you right into the door.

You moan into his shoulder when Nagi dives against your throat, swearing under his breath as he finally gets a taste of your intoxicating skin, a sound of pure lust vibrating throughout your bodies.

“Don’t tease me,” he warns with a groan.

“I’ll do what I want,” you bite back, jolting in pleasure when his tight erection probes against your thighs.

Nagi decesends, his mouth leaving wet trails across your collarbones and down your chest until he stops at your breasts. Gently, his teeth grazes over one nipple, nipping at it until he hears a sharp hiss from above. Before you could chastise him, he captures your nipple in his mouth, sucking the stiff peak between his lips. He feels the dampness of your panties rubbing against the clothed tip, causing his tongue to twirl aggressively over the wrinkled flesh.

“Oh, fuck,” your mews are growing louder and louder in pitch. Nagi hopes that the security guard from earlier is long gone by now. He’s also certain that his dick might come bursting apart any second. But he’s not going to admit that, not to you of all people.

Seeing you crumble under his fingertips makes Nagi’s heart swell. He pulls back with a loud pop and closes the distance between your lips again, pressing hard so you can feel the urgency from the heat of his tongue.

“Need you,” he finds himself whispering against your lips, pressing his entire weight of upper body into yours.

You choke out another desperate sound and begin fumbling with his waistband, hands blindly searching to feel him, trying to prove and show that you can provide the same fervent pleasure and attention. You both sigh when Nagi feels his cock springing free, hard and leaking with copious amounts of pre. He carefully watches your movements, there’s hesitation and surprise glassed across your face as you gently wrap your fingers around his length.

It barely makes the full circumference.

“Scared?”

Then a shudder rumbles through Nagi’s frame as you begin stroking him. It takes everything in him to not rip your dress in two and fuck you right then and there, but he’s trying not to be eager, caging his bloodlust. But it’s hard. Hard when you pull him into a kiss that leaves him breathless and grinding against your palm.

Nagi can’t stop himself from the way he crushes his lips against you, nor can he stop the way his tongue slips forward into your mouth, his hands squeezing the softness of your waist when you melt in his embrace, pressing those soft breasts against his blazer.

You break the kiss with a moan, and it’s so messy that he can see the tether of saliva that stretches between you two when you finally pull away. Your face looks even more dazed than before, and you squirm against him, sending a hot flare soaring throughout his body when your thumb brushes against his leaking tip.

“Sensitive?” you mimic his teasing tone.

Nagi’s now positive that you’re trying to kill him. He’s known it before, from the first moment he’s laid eyes on you, but there’s no reasonable explanation for you to be so beautiful and sexy all at the same time. The way you’re teasing his bare cock, rubbing your wet, clothed cunt straight against it, is doing nothing but sending him straight into a tailspin.

The truth is, when you first approached him, the only thing that had been on his mind was getting to know you more, same as it has been for months now ever since he’s met you. Now, with your lips looking glazed and pouty as ever, he feels like he’s on cloud nine.

“Turn around,” he commands.

You stare at him with wide eyes, and Nagi sees your brain rewiring in real time whether or not to follow through with your stubbornness, but after a moment, you obey. You unclasp your legs around his waist and he gently sets your feet down, letting your body spin around so that your palms are flat against the door, back arched, and ass pressed against his length. The look you shoot across your shoulder stirs something inside of him, and he quickly takes you by the hips, pulling aside your soaked panties with ease.

“Is this okay?” he doesn’t know why he’s asking right now, despite everything that’s happened within the past few minutes.

Regardless, it’s meaningless to wait for your response; the wave of pleasure from the way he’s playing with your breasts from behind, to the warmth of your puffy entrance teasing the tip of his cock, has you unable to respond with anything other than a loud moan. Nagi takes this as an affirmative response, and angles his hips from behind, sucking in his teeth as he watches the entirety of his length being swallowed and hugged by your gummy walls.

The mirrors in the room have begun to fog up when he starts the initial movement. Nagi grabs a palmful of your ass, grasping and kneading them in a way that has you widening your legs to deeper access. Your soft whimpers and moans ring like a siren’s call in his ears, and he doesn’t quite understand how you’re able to control his body like this, but you’re squeezing him just right as if you’ve known him forever.

Nagi shuts his eyes and easily begins to lose himself to this bliss. The tight, velvety walls are all too euphoric, making him easily forget that you’re both in a random bathroom in one of the biggest, extravagant conference halls in the country. A vivid grunt escapes from his mouth as his shaky hands maneuver up to your hips, guiding them in a circular motion as the fat of your ass ripples from every thrust he spears into you.

“Fuck,” he pants out. “Just like that…”

But the rough, muffled sounds of sex in the room shatters as a knock pierces through the air.

Your fingers, splayed across the door, come together close and form into fists as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. After a moment of silence, a tender murmur breeches the stillness.

It’s Reo, and his call for you is automatically fear inducing. Nagi feels you clamping up more than ever.

“—are you in there?” he repeats through the door’s barrier.

Panic flicks across your features and you scramble for composure, frantically pulling up the top half of the dress and craning your neck around to gawk at Nagi, wondering if he has any clue on what to say, or do. Little do you know, Nagi has absolutely zero plausible answers.

“It’s okay,” he leans down and nips your shoulder blades. “Just stay like this.”

A sweet whimper exits from you as he continues his thrusts, slower and shallower. “A-Are you insane?! He’s going to know it’s us…!”

You’re afraid, intimidated by the position that you’re both in, but Nagi kisses you again and engulfs your hand with his. He offers a comforting squeeze before dining in the pleasure of the tip of your tongues touching.

“Stay quiet and he’ll eventually go away,” what is he even saying right now? He’s not being fair to Reo, but somehow there’s hardly any guilt flowing through his veins.

His best friend, your future husband, faintly calls your name again. This time with more uncertainty. There’s nothing but stillness on either side of the wooden barrier, where neither of you are willingly to slip out a sound. Nagi just rests his head on the side of your neck, letting the sweat from his bangs seep down, as he focuses on your steady breaths while having to control his own. If it weren’t for Reo on the other side, he would’ve fallen asleep just by the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Another agonizing moment of silence passes before Reo mumbles out an apology, saying that he’s got the wrong person, and retreats. The sounds of heavy heels from his loafers hitting against the floor burns deep into both of your memories.

By the time he’s gone, Nagi doesn’t waste any time and throttles against a spot inside of you that has you squealing like an animal.

Pulling his hands away from yours, he brings them up to your chest, teasing your nipples while you throw your ass back against him, fucking as hard as you possibly can. He feels you drifting far away, bringing yourself closer and closer on his length, and a tight familiar coil begins building inside of his core.

Suddenly, you try to pull away, stumbling over your next words, “W-Wait, stop, I feel like I have to go—!”

Nagi huffs and readjusts his grip around your waist, snuggling his cock deeper, “Then go, what’s stopping you, heiress?”

“I’m being serious…!”

Lowering his mouth to your ear, he whispers, “And so am I.”

He doesn’t care. Nagi positions his hand lower, keeping the other arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and his long, callous fingers pull your folds up, applying pressure against your full bladder. Vibrations of your whines send him to set a wicked pace until you’re creaming white around the base of his cock. The wet sounds, your moans, and the sloppy grip—it’s all too much, too exhilarating for him.

“Have to be patient…” Nagi murmurs, but his words are starting to jumble. Heat gathers and twists throughout his stomach and he winces, trying to not cum all in an instant.

Your voice is nothing but all breathy moans, puffs of air rushing all around, and you mumble something unintelligible, but it’s all the confirmation Nagi needs. He shudders when he feels the warm wetness finally spill from your pussy as you climax at the same time. Your lewd moans are buried deep into your shoulder, and the sound is forever imprinted in his mind. He feels thousands of sparks ignite between his thighs at that saccharine note.

Nagi relishes in the warmth, until he finds his own release and pulls out, cumming all over the front of your chest, and even striking the bottom of your chin. He leans back with a gasp, gripping the sink counter for balance, his heart thundering as the bliss ebbs away entire chunks of his brain. Slowly, the haziness begins to fade, and Nagi tucks his throbbing cock away, reminding himself that he’s in a restroom of all places.

“Fuck…”

Suddenly, Nagi hears you crying for his name and sees your entire body shaking, trying to calm down from the high of your orgasm. Wet, fat tears are streaming down your face, but he wraps one arm around the front of your body, pinning you against him. You’re both breathing heavily, covered in the sticky warmth and heavy sweat, but the feeling of your racing heartbeat is soothing him.

Nagi holds you tight, letting his fingers get caught in your damp hair.

#doobean writes #bllk smut #bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro smut #nagi x reader #blue lock x female reader #bllk x female reader #cw: piss #cw: dubcon #cw: cheating

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thatsdemko · 11 months

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everybody’s friend - l.norris

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: some the grid x fem!reader(platonic!) and lando Norris x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw ideas mentioned(not in depth details) + has some content that is not intended for minors

summary: in which you’re everyone’s friend but you are so much more than that with lando norris.

a/n: having naughty thots… enjoy. feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content has ideas that are not intended for minors. 》

he’s not like the others. he proves that time and time again. working with Mercedes was a dream come true, you enjoyed Lewis, mick, and George, you were everyone’s friend on the grid, you extended hands to more than just Mercedes. it’s how you ended up in the mclaren garage more often than you should.

but lando norris doesn’t mind.

in fact, lando norris sneaks moments into the Mercedes motorhomes when he can. when no one is watching and no one suspects a thing, because what you have is careful and secretive.

but the problem is, you’re everyone’s friend and everyone loves you just like he does. but he wants you all to himself.

“y/n!” lily is nearly sprinting towards you before you enter the Mercedes hospitality with mick. her arms engulf you, pulling you closer to her body, “I’ve missed you!”

you chuckle feeling Alex’s arms wrap around you as well, “she was my friend first.” he adds, you look up to see his eyes are challenging his girlfriends, “well she said she likes me more.” she huffs out a pleased sigh, squeezing you closer to her.

“I love you guys both!”

you can hear his giggles, they perk your ears up. they make your heart skip beats, and when you feel lily and Alex’s arms loosen from around you, you move to close your gap between him.

he finds it cute, how excited you get to see him despite that you spent all morning entertaining lazy sex in your hotel room. like you didn’t spend most of the evening on your knees for him. that’s the difference in your friendship.

“hi,” you breathe out, the orange he’s wearing is blinding in the sun, it reflects against your skin. he looks handsome despite the evident tiredness you left him with.

“don’t you have people to see?” he jokes, hand squeezing your arm as he brushes past you. McLaren interns are calling his name and fans are beginning to approach him rapidly, leaving you in the distance.

you hate the way he treats you in public, like he wasn’t just in your room acting like a simp and begging for a sneak of one of your breasts. like he wasn’t just on top of you, core deep inside.

—

you watch him climb out the car after placing nineteenth on the grid for the upcoming race. you know he’s searching for you, you see those blueish green eyes searching for your presence, and when he finally finds you he doesn’t hesitate to take the steps towards you.

“you did what you could.” you offer your condolences, soft smile lifts to your eyes that he can’t help but reciprocate back despite the pang in his chest of the loss.

“you want to fuck after this—“

“y/n!”

you shake your head at his words, flashing him a wink that sends him all he needs, before you rush off to Oscar who was searching for a friend.

he hates that people steal you away from him. he hates how important you are around the grid and the paddock. you weren’t a driver, but people recognized your work and your dedication to Mercedes. fans loved you, and some of them even rooted for you and mick, but there was another man who got that passion and excitement nobody else saw. the kind that was deeper than the looks you gave mick.

he watches you slip from his fingers and run off to Oscar. you pat him on the back, smile and give him a thumbs up. he can’t make out what you’re saying, but he hates how dangerously close the Australian gets to you. he hates that everyone is your friend.

—

celebrations are in order for Fernando’s podium. the private room is packed with drivers, models, friends, girlfriends, and many others you couldn’t recognize. but there was one person you did, and he was sitting, legs far apart, waiting for you.

he’s in a white linen button down, sleeves rolled up, and top three buttons undone exposing his chain. he looks gorgeous. you dip down onto the couch and take a seat on his thigh, moving closer you brush your lips against his, “you make me think dirty about you.” you yell in his ear before attempting to pull away, he wraps his hand around the nape of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss.

“that dress does the same to me.” his hands roam up and down your curves and hips. the black tight mini dress was not something you planned to wear, but seeing his mood earlier, you figured he could use some cheering up.

you flash him a smile before rising up off his thigh, deciding to find yourself a drink. you push through the bodies of people, making your way to the bar, your hands fall on top of the shoulders of no one other than charles, “mon amour, you look stunning.” he moves you in front of him, calling the bartender over to get you a drink.

glancing over your shoulder, you see lando staring you down. his eyes are narrowed in on Charles, the man who just added your vodka Red Bull to his tab, but he’s just a friend. he’s not the one who strips you naked, takes your pictures on his camera. he’s not the one who gets to wash you clean of all your mistakes. that’s landos job.

“when are you signing that contract with Ferrari, amour? I need you in my corner.” Charles hand slips around your back, guiding you to the corner where Pierre and kika stand, cups and shot glasses scatter the silver round table.

“not in a million years, leclerc. I love my Mercedes.”

“not as much as you love the mclaren.” Pierre chuckles, you watch the man fiddle with the straw in his hands before slurping down what’s left in his plastic cup. he’s seen you many times slip into the motorhome and the countless times slip out of landos hotelroom. he’s good at keeping secrets, and you’re hoping this one gets brushed past.

“the McLaren? I’ve seen her with yuki more than I’ve seen her in orange.”

your nervous eyes connect with Kika’s, and she flashes you a wink letting you know, your secrets were safe with her. she’d never tell a soul about what she’s heard or seen. you trust the younger girl, she’s been the one to help you cover up hickeys and vice versa.

you feel a soft hand against your lower back, the fingers slip down your ass, you feel three, or four, fingers take a squeeze and it lets you know who it is.

looking up at him, he’s slipping an arm around you, “what are you drinking?” he asks, dipping his head towards your ear, lips dangerously close to your ear lobe.

“vodka Red Bull.” you offer your cup to him, he takes a small sip before handing it back to you. his hand around you tightens pulling you closer in front of him. he’s not sure why he feels this way, he doesn’t typically get jealous when others around the grid talk to you, but maybe it’s this time you’re in a tight dress and he hates the attention on you.

you’re sure Charles catches it all. the way he moves closer to Pierre, the nervous looks around the table, lando wasn’t good at keeping secrets. not when part of his little secret was making it harder for him to contain.

“do you want to get out of here?” his voice is low, but he’s so close to your ear, you can feel his hot minty breath run down your spine, fingers tightening around your hip.

“you can’t wait?” you challenge raising an eyebrow. the look on his face let’s you know he can’t wait. like the thing growing in his pants might get worse by the second if he doesn’t get in the back of an SUV and fuck you silly.

“with you? never.”

you chuckle into your drink, those fingers growing dangerously close to your ass once more, but they linger upwards teasing you. his finger tips begin to feel faint against your skin, he knows what he’s doing. you love his touch against your skin, when he pulls away you beg for more.

you reach backwards and pull his hand back against you, a low chuckle escapes his lips, he turns to speak with Charles. two having a private conversation, but you see Charles eyes widen at you, he shakes his head mouthing the word “naughty.”

you slap your hand, lightly, against landos chest. turning yourself in front of him you get on your tippy toes and whisper in his ear, “take me home.”

the words settle against his ear, fingers intertwining yours, he doesn’t even bother to say goodbye just whisks you off and out the club.

he’s thankful for the SUV that’s waiting outside, because that SUV was where your head was banged against the arm of the door, legs spread as far as you could while his cock dug deep inside you. the whimpers and panting were humiliating. he knew how to fuck you better than a friend.

thank god nobody stopped him, but the questions of your friendship are all of tomorrows talks, especially when you show up with hickeys all over your neck.

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astaroth1357 · 6 months

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Oh God, What Have We Done??: Father!Belphegor Headcanons

You know, I was going to write this for Simeon, and I still might, but Belphie lost the Dad poll and I must right an injustice when I see one.

Content: Somehow incredibly fluffy with Big Happy Family vibes; mostly meme fodder

~♡♡♡~

I refuse to believe this could have been planned. No person in their right mind is going to look at Belphie and go, "Oh yeah. That's some real good father material right there!" Belphegor wouldn't even say that to himself.

Either a condom broke, a pill was skipped, or some orphaned demon child imprinted on these two like a baby duck and followed them home. Either way, NO ONE wanted this, but it's happening.

Belphegor's reaction to realizing that he's a Dad:

Everyone else's reaction to realizing Belphegor is a Dad:

Beel's reaction to realizing that he is an Uncle:

But seriously though, Beel is the only one with any kind of unwavering faith that his twin can pull this off. Never doubts him for a second and never will.

Everybody else though....? Well. Satan is already cleaning out the local libraries of their parenting books, Asmo's searching Mommy blogs, and Lucifer keeps staring off into the middle distance like he's questioning every single life decision that has brought them to this point. Fear is rampant, despair is on high.

The biggest worry is that Belphegor is going to leave MC more or less high and dry. He's not exactly known to be a "go-getter" when times are tough and though he has his soft side, sure, no one would call it particularly "nurturing."

Diavolo and Barbs weren't even sure if they should announce the news to the realm. Of course one of the Lords of the Hell having an offspring is a pretty big deal but under these circumstances...

What if it was treated like a joke by the populous? Painting a target for ridicule on Belphie and MC's backs had to be the LAST thing anybody wanted...

Even Belphegor, in a pretty heartbreaking moment of self-reflection, tried to convince Beel to take over for him instead. Not to shirk the responsibility, but out of pure acknowledgement that he would make the better father between them...

Beel, of course, was not having this for a second. And you know what? Everyone would do well to listen to the wisdom of Beel! Because he knew instinctively something that everyone else had conveniently forgotten-

No matter the circumstances, Belphie's kid was a part of the family. And that meant that they, the MC, and even Belphie himself were never going to be doing this alone.

And that fact was proven quickly enough when every member of the family, extended or otherwise, stepped up to lend a hand.

Levi and Mammon took it on themselves to go out and buy whatever baby items they needed and seemingly came in every day with handfuls upon handfuls of bottles, baby gates, socket covers, and TOYS (literally so many toys. They bought more toys than diapers).

Lucifer and Asmo set to work on renovating a nursery/kid's room almost immediately. The eldest had the plans drafted within a week of the news while Asmo buried MC and Belphie in paint swatches and magazine catalogs for the walls and decor.

Satan roped Beel in to help him train Belphegor to be a little less lazy and more attentive to the MC and the baby. Even going so far as to curse a baby monitor to sound like fog horn to him and only him if the kid began to cry.

The angels chipped in with gifts and free offers to babysit (mostly from Simeon, but Luke is already eyeing the little one like a baby sibling and is protective as such).

Solomon uh... Well Solomon offered to cook MC whatever they wanted through the pregnancy at first, but when that got a HARD veto he switched to just giving HoL a touch of magic baby proofing. Nobody can figure out how to get under the kitchen sink anymore, but that means the baby won't either!

And, of course, despite Belphegor not liking him much, Diavolo is probably the BEST psudeo-uncle a kid could have. He's already sent Barbatos out to curate the best baby food and Lucifer is training him on how to hold infants properly so he can take turns being babysitter with Simeon.

As a father... Belphie isn't perfect. He did whine more than a few times about no longer being the "baby" everyone doted on. A couple times, he may even act just as childish as his kid...

But in the moments late at night when he's rocking them in his arms, dead tired from being awake for hours but determined to make sure they sleep first...

Or when he's walking around the House with them tucked to his chest because they'll never cry if he holds them.

How he pays attention to every little thing that interests them so he can craft each of their dreams more exciting than the last...

Or how he, more than any of the others, knows what a precious treasure it is to be with those you love since you never know when they'll be gone...

He'll do alright. With the love and support of everyone else, their child will have everything they need...

As long as they don't turn out as spoiled as he is 💀

#tales from the drafts #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me headcanons

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httpspedri26 · 5 months

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Your losing me (pt.2)

Angst fluff

Jude x reader

I’m still writing some requests but feel free to leave more!!

Your losing me (pt.1)

Jude hated himself because of what he did six months ago. These last months were the longest he ever went without you, without the sound of your voice, your laughter, Your scent still wonders around the house though, it’s everywhere, even though Jude has washed your pillow countless times or had another woman sleep on it. It serves as a constant reminder that you once in that house with him.

Every corner of the house holds memories of you both - the photographs on the walls, every time he wants to take the pictures of the wall he breaks down crying, so he figured it was better to leave them there.

He often wonders if you think about him too, if you miss him like he misses you. . The thought of you moving on, finding happiness with someone else, is both a source of pain and a glimmer of hope. Deep down, he wants nothing more than for you to be happy, but he can’t stand imagining you with another man.

This week, Real Madrid had agreed to cancel this week’s training for the holidays to spend some quality time with their families. Jude initially hadn't planned on returning to Dortmund, but he really wanted to see y/n, that’s all he had been wishing for these past 6 months just to hold her in his arms again.

That’s why he finds himself back in dourtmund back in the front door of his and y/n house. He didn’t really know how he got there, he wasn’t planning on showing up at your doorstep at this time, but all roads lead him here.

He can hear footsteps as soon as he knocks on the door. Jude’s heart drops as he sees a man, the complete opposite of him, standing in front of him. brown hair, light eyes, and fair skin.

"Hey, can I help you with something?" The man furrowed his eyebrows as he asked Jude.

Jude felt like his throat was closing and couldn't speak.

"I, um, no, sorry. I think I'm in the wrong house," Jude blurted out, as soon as he heard your voice from afar asking who it was.

✿

It’s been a few days since Jude appeared at Y/N’s front door. He had been staying at his parents' house in Dortmund, still alone as nobody was there yet. They were in Sunderland with Jobe for a few days before coming over to Dortmund, which brought Jude a sense of relief, not wanting his family to see him in that state.

A soft knock from the front door snapped Jude out of his thoughts. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, he groaned and threw his head back as he stood up from the couch. Opening the door, your scent enveloped his mind.

“Hey, Jude.” Y/n shivered from the rain; she only had one rain jacket that barely covered her.

"Y/n, are you insane?" Jude exclaimed as he pulled her into the house, wrapping her in his arms. She smelled as she always did, her scent filling Jude's nose. He felt the urge to cry, to drop to his knees and apologize for everything. Y/n looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. The warmth of Jude’s embrace offered a temporary refuge from the cold rain outside.

“I was just walking around, needed some fresh air,” Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible over the raindrops tapping on the windows.

Jude tightened his grip, his heart heavy with unspoken words. “And you came here? How did you know I was here?”

“I saw you Jude, before you left my house, I was just scared to say anything”

After they pulled away from each other, Jude rushed to grab a towel for y/n, making sure she wasn't still shaking from the cold rain. As he wrapped the towel around her, Y/n looked around the living room, recognizing the unchanged details of a place. The family photographs on the wall, and also a picture of her and Jude kissing caught her eye, prompting her to break the silence.

“Why did you go to my house Jude?”

Jude met Y/n's gaze, sincerity reflecting in his eyes. "because I miss you, Y/n/n. These past six months have been the longest, and it's been horrible. It hurts when my friends, my parents, even Jobe asks about you. I want to fix this, to make things right between us."

Y/n sighed, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and sadness. “Jude, we broke up because our relationship wasn’t working anymore. You know that. It’s not just about the past six months; it’s about what led us here.”

Jude’s eyes pleaded for understanding. “I know I messed up, but I can change. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right, to be the person you need me to be. Please, give us another chance.”

Y/n hesitated, her heart torn between the memories they shared and the pain they endured. “Jude, it’s not that simple. We both need time to heal and figure things out.”

"Six months were enough for me, y/n. I don't need any more time to know that you're the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you, and only you, you know how hard I tried to forget you? I went on thousands of dates, but I hated them all because nobody was you. please give me one more chance y/n/n”.

Y/n hesitated, the weight of those words hanging in the air. The scars from the past were etched deep, forgiveness wasn’t something Y/N was considering. After a moment of silence, y/n finally spoke, “It’s not that simple Jude, you really hurt me.”

Sighing in defeat, a tear traced down his cheek. Y/N smiled softly, delicately wiping his tears away. "But I can't live without you, Jude. I love you."

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #football x reader #football imagine

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eskymoos · 2 months

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Levi Ackerman- The Richest Man in the World

You wanted to make a normal date with Levi more fun and unconventional, but you forgot that he can read you like an open book. Word count- 1409 Female reader x Levi Ackerman SFW

Dating Levi Ackerman can be very exciting. From under the sheets to simple, humble dinner dates. He always has a way of making it memorable for both of you. There is one occasion in particular, however, that will never slip your mind.

It was a hot summer day in Trost when the two of you headed for the heart of the city. There was no end goal other than to put your responsibilities aside and save up some time for each other. You were having an amazing time when a great idea came to your mind.

There was a tall building on your left– a multifloored store for dresses of all sorts. Green, red, blue. Short, long, exotic. All of it in one place. You weren't surprised considering that many wealthy people lived here and most of them could easily afford to fill their wardrobes with clothes. Your eyes turned to stars and your jaw dropped.

''Hey, why don't we go inside?''

You suggested that and Levi, who was holding your arm to his chest like a gentleman, glanced over at the entrance. ''Hmmm? You like something?''

''Not yet. Come on.'' You urged and he didn't set you back. The Captain followed right after you, curious as to what you had in mind.

The place really was huge and the store owners gladly welcomed you inside, inviting Levi to sit over at a sofa and observe for now. You began looking at every dress, mesmerized at how amazing all of their designs were.

But there is another thing that you couldn't ignore. You wondered if the reason you never wore dresses is because your body type just didn't allow it or because your budget was too small. Nonetheless it all made you hesitate a bit. You went quiet for a moment.

''Are you okay?'' Levi inquired, already sipping on a cup of tea he was brought while you were zoned out.

''Yeah.'' You clicked your tongue and resumed the search.

It was best you kept your worries to yourself. You knew Levi was always one to watch over you and be sensible. You didn't want to feel like you've wasted his time so you chose to pretend that none of the dresses were up your alley.

The first one you tried on was truthfully ugly. You didn't have to fake the reaction. The color made your nose scrunch in disgust.

''I feel like a disco ball. There are too many beads,'' you murmured and your gaze ran to your quiet boyfriend. Levi was silent but his eyes were burning right through you. He took another long sip and said nothing. No sign of any emotion.

Then you tried another one on. It was very beautiful but too long and tripped you over a couple of times.

''It's my style but too long. I would need them to shorten it.'' You looked down and realized that not even your legs were visible through the material.

Levi was still watching and still saying nothing. You're beginning to wonder if this is boring for him.

Then your interest was piqued by three others. Unlike the first ones, you actually had luck this time. The dresses were the perfect size, shape and color. In fact, they resembled the ones you used to read about in your books. It was a fantasy brought to your reality.

But you couldn't have Levi know that or else you'd have to tell him how this entire time you didn't have the money for any of this. You know he wouldn't mock you but the guilt would eat at your heart.

''It's…something. These are getting progressively worse, don't you think?'' You asked for his input, finding his sitting reflection in the mirror. Once more his mouth didn't open to speak but his focus went up and down on you. Was he eye fucking you or judging your horrible taste?

After a few minutes of doubtful thoughts and inner regret, you shrugged your shoulders.

''Well it's fine. I'm glad that we came here at least. Maybe next time I will buy myself something.'' You explained, sighing deeply. What nobody knew was that if you could, you'd collect every single piece of clothing in this building. That dream owned your soul.

You put on your casual clothes and walked out the fitting room to Levi who stepped closer to you and brushed the hair out of your face. For a moment you got the idea that he was telling you something telepathically but you didn't know what.

''You are beautiful.'' He leaned in to tell you, his voice raspy yet smooth.

The two of you left, saying goodbye to the workers inside. Your gut shrunk a bit. You didn't know what to feel about what just happened.

And so, the arrows of the clock kept looping and two days passed by. You heard a knock on your door.

You opened it to see Petra and Oluo– two very loyal members of Levi's squad. He had told you many times about them but you rarely saw them.

''Is everything okay?'' You rush to ask, already overthinking what could be happening.

''Oh yeah.'' Petra grinned warmly and lifted a strange, enormous bag in her hands. ''The Captain told us to bring this to you. Enjoy.''

The two nodded respectfully, deserting you there with your own thoughts and a lot of confusion. Why exactly would Levi send you something? The two of you lived together so wouldn't it make sense that he directly handed it to you?

You brushed off all questions and checked the contents of the delivery. Your eyes turned big and round when you saw the three exact dresses you fell in love with the other day. But how? You gave it your best to hide what you felt and even acted repulsed but somehow Levi saw through your disguise. Now it makes sense why he was looking so attentively at you. He was studying your face bit by bit as if it were some kind of science. He knew just what you had on your mind.

All of them were crazy expensive which made you freak out a bit. The Captain went out of his way to purchase them without even looking at the price tag? The idea that he went back for that made your heart melt. It also angered you a bit that this entire time he kept quiet and acted natural while you put up an act.

What a foxy man.

A small note fell off the bag onto the ground and you picked it up to see what was written on it.

Come to my office when you can. Bring the dresses.

Levi

Excited to hear from him, you did just that. You flew out of the house wildly and mounted your horse, heading for the location.

When you arrived, you opened the door to find Hange and Erwin inside, having a conversation with Levi.

Levi looked at you instantly and a spark began dancing in the coldness of his blue eyes.

''Hange, Erwin, see yourself out,'' he commanded in a reserved tone. Erwin gave him a nod and greeted you idly before exiting. Hange did too, but not before leaning in to whisper in your ear.

''Don't know what you've done to him but he's not himself today.''

You gave them a baffled look.

''Is that good?''

Hange just grinned, not elaborating any further. They stepped out and shut the door which left just you and Levi in the room. The air turned thick and hard to breathe for a moment.

''Levi, you spent all these money on–''

''Try them on.'' He cut you off, standing up from his seat and approaching you. ''Put them on again. This time be genuine with what you think.''

You sucked in your lower lip and try to formulate a sentence. ''It's too much. It's just too much. I can't possibly pay you back.''

He reached out and pulled you in his arms, his intonation full of sheer affection and pure devotion. ''That's not for you to worry. I want you to try them on and tell me if they need any adjustments.''

You put both hands on his shoulders, ''Are you sure?''

His face moved closer, his mouth caressing your ear. ''Why would I say it if I don't mean it?'' He chuckled. And before you could do what he requested you to, he took your hand and stole your attention momentarily to speak what was on his mind this entire time: ''You make me the richest man in the world, you know that?''

🌹

#levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi aot #attack on titan fanfiction #writing #attack on titan #levi heichou #levi x you #aot #writers on tumblr #my fic writing #writerscommunity

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afterbluehours · 1 month

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Friends with heart strings - Choi Yeonjun

warnings: smut, mdni, fwb relationship

note: This was more cruel before I toned it down lol I couldn't do it to our sweet Yeonjunnie!

💿 now playing: sand by dove cameron

You know that there's no strings attached when you enter into the "friends with benefits" zone with Yeonjun. Of course, you know that he doesn't sleep with you exclusively; he's the king of one night stands. But you never expected to fall for him the way you do. Even if you didn't have his heart, you thought, this little piece of him was enough. As for him, he had all of you in the palm of his hand already.

He smiles at you from across the club when he sees you, mouths something to the friend he's with and starts walking over. You feel your heart speeding up, trying not to think about how good he looks and preparing yourself to form words… until he passes right by you, throwing you a casual “hey” and a grin as he crosses you, to talk to another girl behind you. You go home not long after that.

Despite the fact that you try your darndest to keep your affection hidden, Yeonjun starts to realise you have feelings for him. His rational mind tells him he should call it all off, but secretly it makes it all the more fun. He can't help how good it makes him feel, the way you hang on his every word, come running when he calls, and try to hide your love for him. When he leaves a hoodie at your place for weeks before he finally notices it's missing, it smells like you when he gets it back, telling him you've been wearing it. It's flattering for Yeonjun.

You try to see other people too, just to prove to yourself that you can, but it's never as easy as it is with Yeonjun. Too much small talk, forcing yourself to smile and laugh when you naturally should, and you think about him the whole time. Nobody else that you sleep with can please you like Yeonjun does so effortlessly, and you're so embarrassed that you end up faking an orgasm just so you can avoid the awkwardness and go home.

One night, as you're leaving some guy's house after another failed hookup, it dawns on you that you have no idea where you are or how to get home. None of your friends answer your calls, so you reluctantly call Yeonjun and ask him to pick you up. You send him the pin of your location as he requests, feeling so stupid that you didn't even think about using maps to figure out your way home, either too upset or too many drinks for your brain to be in common sense mode. When it starts to rain, you feel a little less sorry that you asked him to rescue you.

When Yeonjun pulls up, you're shivering in your short outfit, damp from rain the wind blew under the shelter of the building and soaked you, eyes pooling with tears at how miserable you feel. The love bites you spot on his neck as you slide into his car don't help how hopeless you're feeling.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he bumps up the heating. You nod, but it must be unconvincing. "What happened?"

"Please, jjun, can you just drive? Please?"

He swipes a thumb over the tears that fall before he leans in and kisses you as if you were a damsel in distress. You’re pretty sure you look like one, too. You'd hate the way you melt into him if it didn't make you feel a little better. The tension leaves your shoulders, and you relax into your seat.

"Talk to me, baby. What's wrong?" he asks, fingers swiping the wet hair from your face. And because it's Yeonjun, you can't not tell.

"He couldn't– I, I couldn't–" You want to cry all over again at how stupid you think you sound.

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a pitying smile, his eyes twinkling as though he just won some kind of contest. "I'll take you back to my place, okay?" You nod defeatedly.

"You need someone to take care of you?" Yeonjun asks gently. He pries off your wet clothes as you sit on his bed. Your eyes avoid your reflection in his full length mirror, already having caught a glimpse of your current sorry state. "You need me to take care of you?"

The sound of the question is music to your ears.

This was definitely not the plan; to end up in Yeonjun's bed. Especially if he's been out with another girl tonight. But his touch is warm and familiar, and it drowns out all of your resolve. He looks down at you, and you know that he knows that you need him, so is there really any point in denying it? The choice between going home and crying yourself to sleep and letting him grant your much needed release doesn't need much thought.

"There you go," he croons as you fall apart for him so easily, just like you always do. It never seems to require much effort on Yeonjun's part."That's what you need. You should have come to me, baby."

Your head is so fuzzy with the feeling of him fucking you so well that you don't respond with words, faintly aware of your arms reaching out to grasp at any part of him you can. He takes your hands and kisses them, one by one. He's never this intimate with anyone else, but you're just so precious. So cute.

"Jjun-" you pant, the only word you seem capable of producing in this situation. "Jjunie..."

"I've got you, love. Is it all better? Am I better?"

Your response comes out as a moan, and he loves seeing you go to pieces on his cock. His favourite thing is experimenting: seeing what gestures and words you react to. Has anybody ever loved him like you do? He doesn't know, but he didn't think anybody ever would. It gives him a high to see it.

You're exhausted, so he lets you fall asleep on his chest. You look so content snuggled up to him, listening to the beating of his heart – it almost makes him giddy how love drunk you look even when you've barely drifted off. He moves his hand away from your hair to pick up his phone. He'll let you stay the night this time, cook you breakfast–the most domestic thing he'll ever do–you deserve it after he's been such a terrible best friend.

#txt smut #yeonjun smut

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strangemaleswaps · 5 months

Text

Strange Cop Dad Swap

I made my way to the kitchen, expecting some good alcohol since Brittney was rich. Holy shit! There was a huge variety of everything! Now THIS is what I expected at a college party! Who fucking cared if I wasn't even in college yet, or old enough to drink? This shit is crazy!

"What would you like my good sir?" asked some random guy at the table. I didn't think he was an actual bartender, since he was wearing normal clothes. Probably just some weirdo.

"Oh I dunn-" I didn't even finish my sentence when he put something into a shaker and poured it into a red plastic cup. He then handed it to me. Well, I guess if I'm at a college party, I gotta act like a college party guy. I chugged it all down in a second. Suddenly my throat burned like hell.

"Fuck man, one step at a time! Save the chugging for cheap beer. These drinks are classier." He poured me another. "This time baby steps my man."

I was kinda mad, but accepted the drink anyway. I walked back into the living room where people were on the dance floor. I saw my buddy Trent dancing with yet another random girl he just met. I swear that dude solely exists to break hearts.

"Hey! Garrett! Did you get the drinks?

"I got one. If you want one, go get it yourself."

"Ah fuck you! But seriously though aren't you scared your dad's gonna show up? I mean he IS a cop around here."

"Probably not. I'm sure there's lots of parties going on right now. What are the chances that he'd come to this one?” I noticed someone started talking to Brittney. It must've been bad because she widened her eyes and turned the music off. With the new silence in the room, we could hear the blaring police sirens outside.

"Shit who called the cops?" Someone said. The door opened and none other than my stupid dad appeared. His ugly bald head reflected the multicolored lights and he looked around at everyone, while I tried to hide myself behind the crowd. Beside him was the sheriff, Marty. My dad may have been good friends with Marty but he didn’t have to bring the fucking sheriff for something as simple as this.

"Allright allright, party's over. Nobody's getting arrested as long as you cooperate." Everyone started walking out the door and I was exposed. My dad widened his eyes when he noticed me.

"Garrett?! What the fuck are you doing? You know better than that!" He just HAD to start the lecture NOW out of all times, embarrassing me in front of everyone.

"What? I can't come to a party now?"

"Don't try excuses on me! I saw that cup in your hand. What? You expect me to believe that's water? Get in the car. Everybody else move it!” We both started walking outside while Marty stayed to lead the others.

Inside the police car, we were silent for a while until he blew up on me once again.

"I can't believe you were fucking underage drinking! Do you have any idea how irresponsible you are?! You're in your senior year of high school. Do you really think that’s going to be a good habit when you go to college?! You're grounded until graduation. I don't care how harsh that sounds. Graduation you hear?” I knew that nothing I said would change anything so I kept my mouth shut the rest of the car ride.

Back at home, we said nothing to each other as I walked up to my room and slammed the door. About an hour went by and I heard a knock, followed by my dad coming in.

"Hey."

"Go away."

"I just wanted to say that I overreacted a bit back there. It made me so angry seeing the type of person you might’ve ended up as." He was fumbling with his wedding ring. I don't know why he keeps it on anyway. I never knew my mom, and it's clear my dad is divorced so why does he wear a damn wedding ring? He needs to find a girlfriend or something!

“You have no idea how stressful it is! Why can’t I go to some little party just to unwind?”

“I was young once too! I just don’t want you to go down a bad path. You have so much more to learn. This isn’t a good habit to form when you go to college.” It was then that I blew up on him.

“Hey at least I am going to college! Unlike a certain dumbass cop…” His eyes widened and I saw nothing but pure anger on his face,

"I was going to shorten your grounding sentence, but after that attitude not anymore!" He then slammed the door once again.

Trent texted me a bit later, asking if I was going to be able to go to Brittney’s homecoming party. Shit! I forgot about that! There was no way I was going to miss it so we devised a plan for me to sneak out.

The night arrived and I had my plan all set. Trent was going to call the cops on some other party to lure my dad away. When he leaves, Trent will come and pick me up and it's party time! I was in my room pretending to be bored, when right on schedule, my dad came in.

"I got another dumbass party to shut down so stay here, and don't even think about leaving this room. You're still grounded." He had a serious look in his eye.

"Sure sure. I'll be good," I said sarcastically. I looked out the window and as soon as his car was out of sight, I texted Trent. Within minutes he arrived. I quickly got dressed and he picked me up.

"Dude, you're either the bravest guy ever, or the stupidest."

"Hey, I won't stay too long. Just enough to see what it's like really. And then I'll be back in my room before he comes home."

The house was easily twice as packed as the last party, it was incredible. Brittney came down the stairs and approached me with a confused look on her face.

"Hey, wait I thought you were grounded or something. Aren't you afraid your dad is gonna come back? He better not."

"Nah, relax. He's doing some other stupid police work. I won't stay too long anyway."

"Allright, if you say so."

I went to the kitchen, like last time, to find an even bigger variety of drinks! Nobody else was in there so I thought I'd experiment myself this time. I picked up the shaker and started pouring drinks, even though I didn't know what the hell they were. But I didn't care! I'm just glad I was able to sneak away from my dad. I tried the drink and…well it was actually awful. Oh well. I headed to the dance floor and started showing off my moves. I could hear everyone cheering me on until I felt a bit faint. The last thing I remembered was falling over and a couple people looking at me concerned.

When I opened my eyes, I was outside in the dark. What happened? Was I that drunk and they kicked me out? I felt pretty normal though. I walked back up to the door. When I closed it, a draft flew in, which was especially cold on my head for some reason. I let out a deep breath and when I turned around, everyone was staring at me. But it wasn't the type of confused stare I expected; it was a terrified stare. The music stopped and it felt like they were staring into my soul.

"Uh, I'm ok now.” My voice sounded really weird. There was an awkward silence until someone shouted in the back.

"Well party's over…AGAIN!" As everyone started walking out, I noticed Brittney was yelling at someone on the floor.

"Nah, fuck you Garrett. You're not allowed here again. Get up!" Weird coincidence that there was a guy with the same name as me on the dance floor too. As the crowd cleared, I felt a chill down my back as I found “Garrett” looked exactly like me! He seemed to be unconscious. When I approached him and Brittney, she looked up at me…which was weird because we were the same height. Did she get shorter or something?

"Oh uh, he didn't get beat up or anything bad. Just had a few drinks I guess." She spoke so compliantly, unlike the normal way she gives me attitude with every sentence. I noticed the guy on the floor was wearing my clothes too. He didn't just look like me, he WAS me! Was he a clone or something? What's going on? A breeze came through the still-opened door and hit my head again. Why is it so cold up there? I touched the back of my head, and felt a smooth spot. What the fuck? I searched around for my hair…for ANY hair! But all I could find was a smooth bald head. It couldn't be…I looked down at myself and found I was wearing a police officer's uniform, complete with the badge and full utility belt. Brittney stared at me, concerned.

"Is uh everything all right, officer?" No no! Don't call me that!

"I uh, can I use your bathroom?"

"Uh yeah, it's up the stairs and to the left."

As I made my way up and through the hallway, I stared down at my hands, noticing eerily similar things - a wedding ring and a watch that looked exactly like the one my dad wore. I opened the bathroom door and quickly locked it. I gazed into the mirror to find my fears had come true. I turned into my dad!

I grabbed my cheeks and tried pinching them, to make sure it wasn't all a prank and I was just wearing a mask, but nope. I could feel it all. It was real. Fuck! I saw how smooth and shiny my head was; I knew he shaved his head every morning, but I didn't realize how smooth doing that actually made it. It's like a fuckin bowling ball. I hate this! I had long hair before and now it's just all gone! It was freezing up there! I hated cops, so it was really uncomfortable wearing an officer's uniform too.

"Hey are you ok in there?" It was Brittney. I faked a flush and washed my hands.

"Is Garrett still asleep?" It felt weird referring to myself in the 3rd person.

"Yeah he won't wake up."

"I'll just carry him to the car."

Brittany walked to the kitchen, probably to clean up the alcohol before I saw the amount of it. When I got to the living room, I found Marty standing there. He looked up when he approached me and pointed at me.

“Hey you! What do you think you’re doing?” Shit. Does he know?!

“I’m sorry I-” He turned his fake frown into a smile.

“Don’t be. Sometimes we just can’t let anything else come before our duty. Even me.” He leaned over to kiss me. What?! What’s going on? “I guess we’ll have to reschedule that date to some other time.”

A date? Does this mean the whole time, my dad was gay? And for Marty? Was the whole wedding ring thing a facade? Marty actually had one too so maybe they both did it to prevent a scandal within the police department or something? I snapped back to reality when I noticed Marty was still waiting for an answer.

“Uh yeah, sure. Of course!”

“Good! Let me know!” He rubbed my bald head. It was then that I started getting hard …my dad's cock was getting hard. Marty wasn’t my type though! But suddenly the thought of him was making me feel good. Is this because I'm in my dad's body or because he's flirting with me?

I picked up..myself..off the dance floor and put him over my shoulder. I walked over to my dad's police car, and reached into my pocket for the keys to open it. I placed…myself inside, buckled him in, took my phone out of his pocket, and sat down in the driver's seat. I always hated my dad and hated cops in general but it felt pretty awesome actually sitting in the driver's seat of a police car. Like one of those movies where they have to steal one to save the world or something. The flashing lights were still on, but luckily I knew how to turn them off. I pressed the button and began driving home.

When I got home, I picked up my body once again, and carried him. It didn't really occur to me earlier, but if I'm in my dad's body, does this mean he's in my body? Fuck, I can't stand the thought of my dad going around embarrassing me in front of everyone! But he still hadn't woken up yet. What if whatever magical spell made us swap was keeping him asleep? But if he does wake up I need somewhere to put him at least. I walked upstairs and towards his room, and placed him on his own bed. I guess that'll do. I went over to my own room and plopped onto my bed, the pillow feeling extra comfy touching my bare head. I rubbed it again, actually kinda enjoying how it felt. Even though the body belongs to my dad, I'm still borrowing it right now. So I guess I have the freedom to touch myself anywhere. Not that I would want to go…down there. That's my dad's cock, gross! But I'm gonna need to jerk off eventually; I'm already feeling kinda horny now…but why? The thought of Marty crossed my mind and I suddenly was imagining him naked. Shit, not this again. He kinda was cute though, in like a lame cop kinda way. Man, I honestly wanna fuck him now.

At this point my cock was getting so stiff that I could barely take it. I started stripping, taking the heavy utility belt off first. Each garment came off until I was just in my dad's boxers.

I can't believe I was about to do this. I felt around my new dad bod, then peeled the underwear down to see my dad's cock. It was actually pretty big, maybe like 10 inches or so! So nasty…but I had to focus on the thought of Marty to stay hard. I took the underwear off so I was fully nude, laid down on my bed and started jerking it. I imagined Marty cornering me against the wall, kissing me until he grabbed my cock. He then got down on his knees and started sucking it until…I was pulled out of my fantasy and came. The white load shot all over my bed, much further than I could ever do in my body! After the climax wore off, I realized how gross it was that my dad's cum was all over my bed. But it felt so good! Actually, I have no clue how long I'm gonna be like this, or how long my dad is going to stay asleep so I could definitely take over his life for a bit. I'm not grounded anymore! Even better, I guess I'm a cop now so I have power and authority! I took my dad's phone - I mean MY phone - and called up Marty.

"Hey Marty, I have an idea…”

#strangemaleswaps #male body swap #body swap #dad body swap

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babacontainsmultitudes · 5 months

Text

Great teen talk overall, but honestly I was particularly interested in what Matt had to say about where Lincoln is at right now (and that we might get a better glimpse into this next episode? Which has me both nervous and excited but I'm trying not to think about it *too* much cause I'm already super nervous about how things are gonna pan out for the twins next episode).

It all tracks- Lincoln's increasingly nihilistic view of the world impeding on his ability to feel much of anything but nevertheless caring about how *his friends* are feeling and what they want. Being too deep in a dissociative state to process his own grief (and everything else) but caring that *Normal* is sad and doing what he can to help him.

I think Lincoln is a funny and incredibly fascinating character because if you look at his words, honestly no one can deliver a blow like Lincoln- a trademark of his brutal honesty, and in most stark contrast to Normal's "toxic positivity", neither being inherently better or worse than the other just inverted, and reflective of different values (something something cheerkicks is doomed by the narrative they should kiss etc. etc. not what the post is about). Conversely, if you look at Lincoln's actions (and Lincoln is, at his heart, an action-oriented character), truly nobody is putting their ass on the line for the people around them quite like Linc is. I've stated on several occasions that I believe Lincoln is the most selfless of the teens, and I stand by this, but this is a virtue as much as it as a flaw. It's heroic, to put yourself in a line of fire to save your friend's dad, or impale your leg on a candy cane twice to get an anchor, or hug your friend to show them you care even if it literally winds up killing you- but it also reflects self-preservation instincts that somehow manage to be even weaker than those of the guy who tried to throw himself out of a building thinking that a parachute would save him (god I love Taylor).

Lincoln cares immensely about his friends (despite his growing numbness to the world around him), but dangerously little about himself and what becomes of his own life. As a less dire example, "Apollo Four Teens" acts as a great demonstration of how Lincoln will stretch himself thin for everyone around him until there's nothing left, but forgets in the process to stop and register his own emotions and tend to his own needs. Combine this with Lincoln's perpetual "keep calm and roll with the punches" attitude towards the nonstop bullshit the teens have gone through over the course of the season, including an extensive list of unresolved issues related to Grant (which by now I've outlined fairly thoroughly), and you have a serious recipe for disaster. Characters like Normal and Scary are, relatively speaking, pretty obvious and emotive with respect to their pain, even when they are trying not to be. This is good, since it makes it easier for other characters to recognize that they need help in the first place and try to look out for them (they may not always know how to do so correctly, but the intent is there). Lincoln, in contrast, shuts down and becomes less emotive in response to his own pain (in a manner that is somewhat similar to Darryl, more similar to Glenn, and of course most similar to Grant, but ultimately different from all of them), silently building his walls up higher and higher but being no safer for it. It is partially for this reason that other characters very rarely think to check in on Linc and see how he's doing (Taylor to his credit tried after the titanic episode, but that got interrupted, and Grant does also try but- much like his own dad with him- fails to meet his son halfway in being honest and vulnerable and hence fails to make any progress), leaving him to mostly suffer in silence perhaps without even truly realizing it himself.

I guess the gist of what I'm saying is, Lincoln is in deep water, all of this has been a long time coming, and if nobody does anything about it soon... (Metaphorically-speaking of course-) that boy is going to drown.

#. Also I liked how much they talked about the shade witch (and candlethorp)#dndads #lincoln li wilson #despite how verbose this ended up I'm actually having a lot of trouble wording my thoughts tonight-#but teen talk really got me thinking about my boy so I had to try and get some of it out lol #dungeons and daddies #also posting this at a horrible time but that's not a big deal #baba babbles

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sluttywoozi · 2 months

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I have been re-reading the supernatural svt and I just need to know more of your thoughts and headcanons for werewolf! Jun

okay so i have his origin story in mind but also some headcanons so i'll do both hehe

warnings: blood mention, food mention, even longer than vampire wonu

jun was going on a late night food run one night and to save time, he decided to use the walking path by his apartment instead of the well lit, safe sidewalks because those go around the forest and the path goes through. he wasn't nervous at all for some reason, even though it was nearly pitch black in the woods and he could hear every single animal moving through the underbrush. he was nearly there, even, when something tackled him from the side, throwing him off the path and tumbling down a rocky hill with him. by the time he stopped falling, he was dizzy and panting and likely concussed, and whatever tackled him was gone.

he had no idea where he was, or how to get back up to the path, so he just wandered until the sun started to rise and then he followed the light to find his way out of the dense trees. his side and back ached, stinging, sharp pains shooting through him with every movement, every step on the uneven ground, but he just attributed that to the fall and continued on his way home.

he didn't think anything was amiss until his roommate lost it at the sight of him, shouting about tracking blood and mud all over the floors and what the hell happened to his back?!

they shoved him to the bathroom and turned on the light, and Jun blanched at the reflection in the mirror. he was absolutely covered in dirt, with leaves sticking out of his hair and moss clinging to his clothes. he turned around and glanced at his back, his eyes growing wide at the large gashes cutting through his skin like claw marks.

he could barely even feel them with the way his whole back throbbed, but they looked ugly, torn, ragged, and above all, dirty. he didn't know what else to do so he hopped in the shower and went about his day, not registering the way sounds were louder and smells were stronger until they got so overwhelming that all he could do was cover his ears and breathe through his mouth.

things only got worse from there, his senses sharpening and his strength increasing with every passing day. he could hear the neighbors two stories up arguing about bills, he could smell dinner cooking in the basement apartment, and he could taste his roommate's confusion and distrust on the air.

the night of the full moon was when it all finally started making sense. well, the morning after really.

Jun doesn't remember what happened that night, just that he woke the next day to someone pounding on his door. he was covered in dirt and blood again, but the blood didn't smell like his or like a human's so he wasn't too worried.

he was a little worried about being able to tell the difference between human and animal blood, but all of his questions were cleared up as soon as he opened the door to find his coworker, Mingyu, large and grinning in the doorway.

"So you're a werewolf too! Why didn't you tell me, bro? We could have been going on runs together this whole time."

oh. a werewolf. huh.

Jun could only lift his shoulders in an exhausted shrug and say, "Nobody told me, my guy."

very puppylike, squirrels turn his head and he'll chase anything that runs

doesn't really have anger issues at all, only wolfs out (outside of the full moon) when he's anxious or scared or feels cornered

love/hate relationship with his heightened senses

loves how food tastes better and his sight is clearer and he can pick out every individual instrument in his favorite songs

hates that he can smell the garbage truck coming, that he can see every speck of dust in his room, that he can hear the couple in 9b arguing then fucking every night

used to be a bit of a homebody but started spending more time outdoors after he was changed

partially because mingyu drags him out on runs, mostly because the fresh air smells nice and the open sky makes him feel free

starts going to a farmers' market down the road from his apartment because he can taste the processing on fruits and veg from the grocery store

it's during one of his weekend visits that he meets you

or rather, smells you

he almost can't describe it, your scent, but as soon as he locked on, it filled his nose and his head and his heart

he practically floated over to your stall, drawn by your fragrance like he was a fish on a line being reeled in

he didn't see you at first, just the flowers covering every inch of the booth, and he thought maybe they were the source of the smell until you popped up from behind the counter

you had supplies in your hands, paper and ribbon and shears, but you jumped and dropped them all at the sight of him, gasping in shock like you'd seen a ghost

"what's wrong??" he asked, concerned, his hands hovering in front of him as he glanced wildly around the market for a threat

"nothing, nothing, i just didn't hear you come up and i didn't expect you to be there," you rushed to placate him, an apologetic expression on your face before you ducked to gather your materials again

he wished he could help instead of standing there and watching you, but there was a table in between you (why is there a table in between you there shouldn't be anything in between you)

"how can i help you?" you bounced up and beamed, laying your things out on the counter neatly, your eyes still on him

he was nearly laid out by the force of your smile, so it's a miracle when he's able to say, "it smelled really good over here, i just followed my nose."

you laughed and told him you were glad the flowers were doing their job, and he didn't have the courage to tell you it wasn't the flowers that brought him here

he bought three bouquets that day, just so he could talk to you longer

one went into his room, one was for his roommate who was only just starting to be nice to him again, and one was for mingyu, who almost cried when he received them, saying he'd never gotten flowers before

he went back to your spot the next week, but you weren't there

so he tried again, only to find the market still devoid of you

jun's not one to give up, he'll try even when he probably shouldn't anymore, so week after week he found himself at the market, buying produce and hoping he would be able to get flowers too, and maybe even your number this time

it takes two excruciating months, but finally, you come back

he smells you before he even gets to the market, your fragrance wafting down the closed off street and calling to him like a siren's song

he waves at the farmers he always buys from but beelines to your stall, finding you swamped with customers and joining the back of the line

you keep up with ease, wrapping bouquets at the speed of light and moving on to the next, until jun is standing in front of you with a shy smile and his hands clasped tightly together

"hi!" you grin like you recognize him, and he thinks maybe you do when you start to pull flowers, the same ones you'd used in the bouquets last time

"hi," he breathes, taking a step closer and taking in a deep breath before saying, "do you think maybe you'd like to perhaps go out with me sometime possibly? you can say no, and i'll never come here again! but if you say yes, then i- i will. all the time."

you're still looking down at your working hands, but he sees the corners of your mouth quirk up in a smile before you glance up and nod, "i would like to go out with you sometime."

he feels like he could melt, so relieved at your answer that it takes him a full minute to realize he hasn't even introduced himself

"oh! i'm jun, by the way," he laughs, holding a hand out

"y/n," you shake his hand firmly, and if you notice how hot it is, you don't let it show

you exchange phone numbers, then flowers and money, and with that, jun is on his way

he texts you as soon as he gets home and you text back almost instantly, sparking a conversation with no beginning or end, only a middle

you text all day, every day for two weeks, and jun wonders if that's a long enough time for him to ask you out again. mingyu thinks it's not, but he also loitered around his crush for a full month until she finally gave him a chance so jun isn't inclined to listen

it's a good thing he doesn't because he does ask you out again and you do say yes

you say yes with lots of exclamation points and jun's smile gets too big for his face and his heart gets too big for his chest

he knows you like flowers so he takes you to the botanical garden on the edge of town

it has a conservatory and fairy lights and tonight, food trucks and pop up bars

you ooh and ahh with every turn, munching on your snacks with wide, wonder filled eyes, turning to him every so often to make sure he's seeing everything you want him to see

he falls in love with you a little bit that night, and a little more every night after

he does wish mingyu had told him about the knotting thing tho, both for your sake and his

part two (surprise knotting)

#✨emily answers✨#✨emily writes✨#jun fluff #jun headcanons #jun scenarios #junhui x reader #jun x reader #jun x y/n #jun x you #seventeen headcanons #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #supernatural svt #werewolf!jun

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suffermaze · 2 months

Text

"dyeing" for you | steve harrington

summary: Steve is your best friend and you really want to bleach your hair, at home, by yourself. Of course the boy wants to help you, but things go really wrong and all of the sudden it's not only your hair that turns out clearer than before. 3k.

Steve always had the urge to help you, or anyone, no matter what. And you knew, deep down, that he felt that way because nobody had ever helped him in his whole life. He wouldn't be able to stand treating someone the way he had been treated before.

"Shit!" you shouted, your voice reverberating off the ceramic walls, the sound muffled from the outside. But it was enough for the boy's honey-colored eyes, filled with concern, to meet yours. The door swung open against the palm of his hand.

"What happened?" Steve asked, his eyes scanning your entire body for any possible injury or cut, anything. It took a few moments for the boy to see the liquid spread on the floor and for you to finish counting the 10 seconds needed for your breathing to return to normal, looking back at him.

"Nothing... just..." you huffed, closing your eyes when your gaze fell on the mess and the traces of the disaster you caused around your feet. For a moment, all you wanted was for time to freeze now and for you to be able to disappear. Your hair formed a huge, tangled mess, the only thing covering your body being an old, stained t-shirt. The last thing you wanted was to be seen in this deplorable state, especially by him.

But Steve thought you were adorable, especially with that annoyed look and a big pout drawing your lips without you realizing it.

"Need help?" You barely had time to answer the question, as he was already kneeling in front of you, picking up the utensils scattered on the floor and cleaning the spilled bleach with a piece of paper.

"I can do it on my own." your voice sounded sharper than you would like, but the boy is unfazed by it. Both he and you knew that it was said with the intention of proving something more to yourself than to anyone else.

"I know you can, but that's not what I asked..." The smile on his face, so kind and playful, makes it impossible for you not to smile foolishly and roll your eyes, giving in and sitting on the stool once again, for him to do the work for you.

A shiver ran down your spine when suddenly you felt the cold bleach on your hair. Turning yourself slightly, from the startle, you could see the boy with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, his lip caught between his teeth with a mixed expression of concern and concentration.

"Everything okay?" he asked, seeming too nervous to make any slight movement. He was afraid of hurting you or doing anything wrong. You're forced to place your hand over his, caressing the back of it with your thumb. a reassuring smile on your face. You can feel him relax under your touch, and a long trembling sigh escapes from his pinkish lips.

It’s a bit strange at the beginning, and you’re not sure why. Being in silence with him always felt easy, the way it feels when you’re with someone just right to you. You don’t need words to fill anything, or to always be doing something so you don’t feel like something is out of place. With Steve, just being with him was enough.

But now, everything seems too much. And you’re almost sure something is off. Because you can’t fight the urge to look into the mirror, just so you could see the boy’s reflection, just so you could trace the lines of his jaw tense due to how concentrated he was, and then relaxing once again when a soft smile graced his lips as his eyes connected with yours, his eyes seeming to glow instantly just from meeting your face. And you two get lost for a moment, like that, looking at each other.

You know it’s different this time. It feels different.Those weren’t the eyes of the boy you knew for a few years now, the one you would gladly call your best friend. Those were the eyes of the boy you were in love since the first time your gaze fell on him.

And, for a slightly moment, you feel like he saw those eyes on you two, because he let out a deep sigh before looking back to your hair, which he was holding softly in his hands, almost feeling like he forced his way back to the reality where, he truly believed, you would never look at him that way.

You barely feel the time passing, and the process is so careful that you hardly notice when it's over. Steve was so attentive that you almost dozed off several times, and only when you heard the slightly hoarse voice of the brunette did you snap back to reality, opening your eyes in surprise.

"I think... I'm done?" he finally says, looking at you with a certain strangeness, as if seeing an exotic animal for the first time. And then it hits you: you trusted Steve Harrington to bleach your hair. And, with all due respect, much of the boy's charm was due to how CLUMSY he was.

A nervous laugh escapes your throat as you look in the mirror. your hair completely plastered with white cream, full of pellets because someone didn't mix it properly.

"Are you... sure?" your voice comes out wavering as you look at him through the mirror's reflection, and the boy smiles confidently, even though his eyes said otherwise.

For a moment, you wonder if that was a good idea. Maybe, just maybe, your first time bleaching your hair shouldn't have been alone at home, with the help of your best friend who definitely had never done anything like that before either. But you didn't have many choices.

"And now?" he says, crossing his arms and swaying back and forth, starting to get restless.

"Now we wait." or at least, that's what you believed you should do.

"Wait for what exactly?" his eyes narrow at you, starting to realize that you also had no idea what was supposed to happen there.

"My hair starts to lighten... I guess." you smile nervously at him, and in the same instant, all that false confidence he presented starts to evaporate and give way to his famous worried motherly personality.

"What do you mean you guess? Didn't you read the label?" he stares at you incredulously, his eyes slightly closed as he tries to understand what went through your head when you planned all that. if you even planned anything at all.

"Pff, no? Who reads the label?" you reply, a nervous giggle on your lips as you look away. you try your hardest to seem cool about it, but panic begins to take over your body, which seems to shake more and more.

"EVERYONE READS THE LABEL! How do you even know if this shit was within its expiration date?"

"Come on, Steve, this kind of thing doesn't have an expiration date." you say that more as an affirmation to yourself than to the boy, an attempt to deceive yourself and pretend that everything was fine.

But Steve doesn't help at all with this, because unlike you, he wasn't the type of person who could hide when he was completely freaking out.

"OF COURSE IT DOES." he yells, arms thrown up in the air emphasizing the desperation of the taller one.

And that's enough for you to start panicking too.

"Give me the pot. Let me see if the smell is weird." It's the first, and honestly, the only idea that crosses your mind at this moment. Steve looks at you, eyebrows raised as if to say "are you sure?", but you've completely lost patience, and a nearly growl escapes your throat as you reach out towards the boy, making him flinch a bit.

He then hands you the little that was left of the mixture, and you inhale so forcefully that your eyes start to water instantly. The air tears through your throat and it's impossible not to cough like crazy, your organs feeling like they're melting inside you.

"Bad idea. Bad idea." you say between coughs, trying to recover the pure air that used to fill your lungs.

"Oh c’mon. it can’t be that bad." he takes the pot back and brings it closer to his face, somewhat hesitantly. "Oh god, it burns." and then, you lean on each other, completely losing composure and unable to regain your breath now that laughter intersperses with coughs.

And it's at that moment that you start to feel your scalp initially just tingling, but in a fraction of a second BURSTING INTO FLAMES.

"oh fuck. it burns." you say, swallowing hard and squeezing the boy's arm next to you tightly. your wide eyes looking at him. the rest of the world seeming to slow down as your body tenses up.

"I know. i just said that." he keeps laughing, completely unaware of what's happening, finding everything way too funny.

"No, Steve." you take a deep breath, trying not to freak out and lose your mind completely. and you say it slowly like someone trying to explain the simplest thing in the world to a child who doesn't understand anything at all. "my head is burning."

"ooooooh shit. oh shit." Steve then stops laughing and composes himself, straightening up as he holds your shoulders, looking at you with his eyes almost popping out. "What do we do?"

"I don't know. Should I wait? is it a bad sign?" You say, trying your hardest not to lose it at the same speed as him, because if both of you panicked, you were sure things could get ugly very quickly, and it was your hair that was in mortal danger at the moment.

"What do you mean by a bad sign? I guess your head burning is a pretty horrible sign," he replies, analyzing your hair and trying to understand what was so wrong, because from the outside, nothing seemed to have happened.

"Should I take it off- fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck it's getting worse." you say, now holding the boy's arms back, your fingers gripping so tightly that your knuckles hurt.

"God, what do I do?" Steve shouts, trying to make you look at him, hoping that someone or anything would get him out of this kind of situation. There was no worse feeling than helplessness for Steve.

"I don't know. SOMETHING?" You shout back, no longer able to think or pay attention to anything other than the sensation of fire on top of your head.

"Shit. shit. shit. ok…. ok…." he starts spinning in the bathroom, hands gesturing desperately in search of something that could help. and, acting on impulse, he gently wraps his arm around your body, pushing you towards the shower.

"Close your eyes." he says, sounding like a warning, with a certain urgency in his voice.

"what?" but you don't even have time to process what's happening. out of nowhere, you feel the cold water running down your head and then all over you. The shock makes you shiver and let out a ridiculous squeal. "WHAT?"

"Sorry." he says, his voice full of fear and concern. For a moment, you feel like punching the boy in the face, but when you get used to the water temperature, the sensation is wonderful. your body automatically relaxes, and your head starts to cool down more and more.

"You’re so lucky it works." a smile appears on your face, and you can't see it, but at the same time, Steve smiles too.

"Thank God." he says, genuinely, along with a relieved sigh, because he knew that he would be in trouble if that stupid idea hadn't worked out.

When you manage to open your eyes again, you find the boy next to you in the shower, his shirt slightly wet too, sticking to his chest, and it's impossible not to lose consciousness for a few seconds. maybe a few seconds more than you notice, because he clears his throat a little awkwardly, catching your attention. a shy smile and a failed attempt to hide it on his face.

"I'll... I'll wait for you to finish here. I’ll be outside." he says, bringing both of you back to the real world. He seemed a bit lost in his own words and actions, slightly spacey.

"Sure! sure... good idea." you say, and now it's your face that's burning up in flames. You hope he doesn't notice before turning around and leaving you alone in the bathroom. Your eyes close once again, now out of frustration, and you huff, slapping your palm against your forehead as you mutter an "idiot..." to yourself.

It takes courage to face the mirror after you finish cleaning up.

And, at that moment, you don't have that courage.

That's why you wrap a towel around your hair before even covering your own body after the bath. After changing and combing your wet hair, you shout for your best friend, who appears within seconds in the room, his T-shirt still slightly damp.

When his eyes meet yours, you notice him trying to hide the shock, pressing his lips together, his chest puffing up as he takes a deep breath. And you know it cannot be a good sign.

"Did it turn out really bad?" you ask, your eyebrows knitting in anguish.

"No..." the lie is so obvious that even he doesn't believe it, and a small laugh escapes the lips of the brunette, forcing him to cover his mouth quickly with his hand.

"Fuck you." you say automatically and head back to the bathroom, finally facing your reflection.

Your hair is completely stained, some parts more yellowish, others completely blonde, and the majority without even changing at all.

"You've got to be kidding me," you say, completely incredulous, staring at yourself with so much frustration that the guy beside you can't control himself anymore and starts laughing like a fool.

And all you can do is laugh along with him, covering your face still slightly disbelieving.

"Why did I let you mess with my hair?" You say when you finally catch your breath, still amidst some chuckles, pushing the guy lightly to make him stop laughing too.

"HEY! You would've made the same mess if you had done it yourself..." he replies, shrugging as if you both knew that was an obvious fact, because it was.

"What do I do now?" you force out a frustrated whimper, almost like a cry, and cover your face again with your hands, nodding your head.

"Do you want me to take you to a professional? There must be a salon nearby." His voice sounds genuinely generous, and you realize he's trying to find any solution to make you stop feeling bad. Steve had a life mission that was never allowing your face not to be complete with your pretty smile, and he was very good at completing that mission. He would do anything, absolutely anything, and would always be seeking solutions to your problems simply because he couldn't stand seeing you like that.

"I don't have money..." you reply, somewhat embarrassed to admit it out loud, and then he understands why all that stupid idea, the reason all that chaos had happened today.

For a moment, he feels terrible for saying it was a stupid idea. After all, it's not like you had any other option. But now wasn't the time to lament. He just needed to fix the whole situation.

"And who said you have to pay? Let's say it's to make up for the fact that I messed up your hair." he says, holding your wrists to stop you from hiding your face, lowering your hands and forcing you to look at him.

There was that gentle smile again. That smile that made you completely lose all your senses and curse for a few moments the fact that you were such good friends. Because that meant you would only be that, nothing more, never.

That killed Steve every day. He wouldn't bear living with the idea of confessing and losing you. Even though that idea tormented him every time his hazel eyes met yours. He preferred you to be just his best friend rather than nothing at all.

That's why you both always said so many things through all those silent looks. Every time.

And maybe, in that second, lost once again in one of those deafening silences, Steve had thought too loud.

"You still look beautiful." the boy's voice comes out soft, almost inaudible, a confession that should have been said only inside his head, and that catches you completely off guard.

You firmly believe that confession is just an illusion of your head, probably the product's chemistry affected your neurons in some way. That's why the only thing you can respond is "fuck off" followed by a laugh without grace.

And then you return to the here and now, and everything seems too extreme. You notice that the guy's hands still hold your wrists, and what is normally a daily touch becomes something completely out of the ordinary.

Your chest is so fast-paced that you wish the product were burning your nostrils again because that would make it easier to breathe than now, and you pretend not to notice how the boy's cheeks gain a strong red tone, making his countless freckles even more prominent.

"I'll get the keys." he says, looking away and scratching his neck, completely out of place now, in an attempt to pretend that moment hadn't just happened.

"Yeah, sure. I'll change and meet you outside." you also say a little desperate and embarrassed, stumbling over your own feet and lost within the small bathroom before exiting in front of the guy.

After walking out the door, you don't notice anything else that happens during your day because your head doesn't think of anything else but Steve's voice echoing those words.

You still look beautiful.

And you dream of the day when you'll have enough courage to set aside all your fears and say that back to him.

hey!! I had this idea of oneshot while I was bleaching my hair... I really wanted to have a Steve to help me do it, but sadly it is impossible, so I had to dream a little bit lol

anyway, it would be awesome to hear your opnions and I really hope you've enjoyed it!! <3

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot

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newtsniffles · 2 years

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It Is Always Him | Daemon Targaryen

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen!Reader

Summary: You could not help but to worry about your uncle who was currently fighting a war, because it was him. It was always him.

Warning/s: Not proof read, other than that, just some fluff I suppose? Daemon being caring?

Word count: 1.8k

You had always loved the dawn. The rise of the sun in King’s Landing always casted a fiery hue over the once starlit sky. From The Red Keep, you had one of the best views in what you would say in all of Westeros. The same heated colours would cast their reflections onto The Narrow Sea, and your lilac irises would take the sight in like a child would with a table full of sweets. Always, since the first name day you could remember, you would wake and gaze out the windows of your bed chambers. Even if it meant you to be left tired and in need of an afternoon nap when the sun reached the peak. However, these days you found yourself staring out to the horizon more often than usual. In the dawn, throughout the day as the sun flew overhead, when the day turned to dusk, and out to the stars on many sleepless nights. Was nobody worried for your uncle but you? Did anybody else care that he could die at war?

The second child of King Viserys and his late wife, Aemma, you were ignored as another daughter. Rhaenyra was ‘The Realm’s Delight,’ the first born by mere hours, but you? You were just another failed attempt at a son. Sometimes you wondered, if you had of been born even a few moments before your dear sister, would it be different? Your uncle, Daemon, was the only person you could ever say was really ‘there’ for you. Yes, he tended to disappear for a while every now and then or get exiled only to be back a few turns of the moon later. But it was him who understood you. It was him who knew the feeling of being outcasted by his family, to be alone yet surrounded by the living and breathing. For it was him who chose the dragon egg that laid in your cradle with you as a babe. It was him who helped you to name the large, black-scaled phantom. A name your beloved dragon, Daerys, had earnt for herself as she blended into the night sky, invisible to the eyes of people below. It was Daemon that taught you as a child to speak High Valyrian. It was Daemon that showed you a few tricks in protecting yourself. It was Daemon who—It was always, Daemon.

Since you had heard of the war, you would stare out to the sky in hopes of seeing Caraxes swooping his way to the dragon pit with your uncle on his back. It has been two years, and you have yet to see what you desire. You had begged your father with each turn of sun to moon that he would send help for Daemon. After two full turns of the seasons, he did, but never was it for you.

The sight of a Targaryen ship in the distance drew you from your thoughts. Ah, Rhaenyra must be returning from her tour to find a suitable husband. That was one thing that you never found yourself jealous of. Father had recommended to you that you get married as well, but it was less of a rush as you were not set to inherit the throne. You could not tell how long you had been staring at the ship before a piercing roar had echoed through the never-ending skies. You need not a moment to realise the sound of Caraxes, nor do you need a mere second as his red, snake-like body tore through the sky. The question you were asking yourself was only this: was your uncle on the back of The Blood Wyrm? If so, was he injured, was he even alive? Or did the dragon carry his bloodstained body?

“Kepus—” uncle. You rushed out the doors of your chambers. Nimble feet made their way to the throne room without a second thought as the whispers of servants echoed around the halls. You stood to the right, looking across on tipped toes to your sister who stood across the way. She was always kind to you, you loved her dearly, and she was aware of the affection you held for your uncle. With a nod of her head, a breath you had not realised you had been holding left your lips. He was alive.

It was when he turned the corner and walked proudly with his chest puffed that you finally felt the tension leave your body. You had barely listened to a thing he said to your father, too busy thanking the Gods for his safe return. As the two embraced, and appeared as brothers for once in their lives, a small smile had graced your face. For this was the best thing that could happen, perhaps your father would let him stay here instead of exiling him for going against orders again. Perhaps, with this win under his belt, your father would now care less of your affections for Daemon, and let you spend your leisure time with him freely.

“We shall throw festivities to honour your valiant effort and victory, brother.”

You had never been one for these sorts of gatherings, or well… gatherings in general. There was no point in being at them, only to be disregarded, ignored, alone. But this was to celebrate Daemon’s victory. And you had hope that he would seek you out to talk, that he would embrace you so you could hear the beating of his heart, further confirming for you that he is alive and well. Leaning against a stone pillar, you watched onwards as he was mid-discussion with your father, Alicent, and Rhaenyra. You could go over there, but you would rather stay where you are. Not a fan of Alicent, or your father for a fact, considering he was no fan of yours. You wondered if Daemon had thought about you at all in his years away. If he had missed, you as much as you did him. It was when he gazed up at you through lightly coloured brows from a distance that you knew he had thought of you, at least once. His purple eyes always told what his words could not. And his eyes in this very moment told you that he too, did not wish for these festivities, that he too would rather be in your company and your company alone.

“Excuse me,” Daemon gave a nod to his brother before beginning the short walk away from the festivities to you. As he moved closer, you took note of his features. He had not changed much, and you were grateful that no scars were visible for it would pain you greatly to know he was once hurt. His hair had been cut short, a strand fell over his forehead, and you noted that it suited him well. “Issi ao daor emare kirimves, ñuha dōna niece?�� Are you not having fun, my sweet niece? Daemon came to a stop, barely half a metre away from his niece.

“Ao gīmigon īlen dōrī really mēre syt these ra, kepus.” You know I was never really one for these things, uncle.

“Nor iksin nyke.’ nor am I.

“I thought you would be enjoying this. It is for your victory after all,” you gazed up at him playfully, for he was far taller than you. “Perhaps now, father might leave you alone.”

“I think we both know that not possible,” he smirked down at you. A few moments passed of you only looking at each other. But it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable.

“I missed you,” you couldn’t help but admit. “I begged father everyday to send help. But I hear that in the end, you did not need it.” Daemon glances to the side before reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“You need not worry about me, dōna riña,” sweet girl. He smiles softly, a smile reserved for you only. The names he called you never failed to leave you flustered. “Were you treated well while I was away?”

“The same as usual. I tend to be left to keep to myself,” you sigh. “Rhaenyra has been busy with heir duties, despite her wishes. I don’t believe I have had a proper conversation with someone in many turns of the moon. It has been lonely.” Daemon’s purple eyes stare into the lilac of your own.

“Iksā daor mērī, dōrī mērī,” you are not alone, never alone. Daemon whispered in their native tongue for only them to understand.

“Skorkydoso would ao gīmigon? emā daor issare kesīr,” how would you know? You have not been here. You tried desperately to push away the tears that threaten to fall like a wounded soldier in battle. Daemon grabs your hand, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he pulls you around the corner and away from any prying eyes. Hand moving to settle on your cheek, thumb grazing a lone tear.

“Īlen mijegon iā iderennon. Nyke would dōrī henujagon ao mērī ondoso iderennon.” I was without a choice. I would never leave you alone by choice. “Viserys is weak. Lo nyke gōntan daor jikagon naejot vīlībāzma, īlon mirre would botagon,” If I did not go to war, we all would suffer.

“I know,” you sighed. Your arms wrap around his torso, head moving to nuzzle into his chest. His own arms move, one around your shoulders, the other hand cradles your head. “I was scared that you would not return.”

“But I did,” his hand runs across your white hair before pulling back to place them both on your cheeks, bringing your head out from his chest. In his eyes, you could see a man that has been to war, a man that has faced death, and been the death of many men. And yet in his presence, you weren’t sure it possible that you could feel any safer. And as you gazed into his eyes, you didn’t know if it was boldness or weakness, but you leant forward and placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Daemon closed his eyes and rested his forehead against your own

“īlon jorrāelagon naejot jikagon aril,” we need to go back.

“Gaomagon īlon?” Do we? Daemon whispered. His thumb moved to run along your lower lip before he passionately connected them with his own. Your back pushes against the wall behind you in his fervour. Your arms move around his neck, fingers toying with the hair on the back of his neck.

“People could see,” you whisper as his lips follow along your jaw and down to your neck.

“Let them,” Daemon presses one last kiss to your temple. “Ivestragī zirȳ gīmigon iksā ñuhon, dōna jorrāelagon. Iksā protected ondoso nyke.” Let them know you are mine, sweet love. You are protected by me. His. Yes, that sounds as it should. It is always him. It is always, Daemon.

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#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #matt smith #matt smith imagine #matt smith fanfiction #matt smith x reader #daemon targaryen imagines

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 6 months

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The beautiful subtleties of the Astarion scar scene, and why this is that headcannon scene where Tavurge draws Astarion.

***Trigger Warning for discussions of body autonomy and sexual trauma.

And we're back for yet another midnight dissertation where I over analyze the F out of a video game character romance, because I can't stop thinking about how amazing the storytelling is. I need help.

So we all love that Astarion romance headcannon where Tavurge draws/paints/does-something-to-show-Astarion-his-face. It's a beautiful headcannon and I adore it. But, allow me to convince you that Larian did, in fact, give us this scene. And it's the scene where Tavurge draws Astarion's scars.

Jump in the car, here we go:

The song playing in the background of this scene is "I Want to Live." I think that's a very deliberate choice, as that song is very tied to Astarion. So much so, that you can stand on a rock behind his tent and suddenly the full song starts to play, lyrics included. Music reminding us of the one thing Astarion wants more than anything else?

Astarion wants the freedom to live a life he chooses, he wants his choices to matter. He's been living 200+ years, but can't remember ever feeling alive until now. He is so deathly afraid of what he has being ripped away now that he's had a taste.

Because every other time he ever felt hope, Cazador tore it away and punished him. Cazador has caught him before when he ran, and locked him in a tomb to starve in darkness for a year. There's a reason the game makes it clear that this is his worst memory. It has to constantly be haunting him, fearful that at any moment Cazador is going to rip this away, too.

So, Astarion sleeps with Tavurge and is suddenly told that the design Cazador drew on his back is written in Infernal. Infernal being the language devils use to write Infernal Contracts. Astarion has to be out of his mind with fear that whatever is on his back binds him to Cazador in some way. Maybe in a way he doesn't know about.

I need to say something about body autonomy trauma, so trigger warning for those who struggle with these subjects. Sexual and body autonomy trauma both play into why this scene is powerful. I struggle with both and there's a reason his story hits particularly hard with me.

****Trigger For Description Of Emotional Response to Trauma: Having control of your body taken away leaves you with a type of deep, primal fear that is very difficult to explain. It's ridiculous and cliche, but the honest-to-best way to describe it is it, feels like a hole deep in your chest where something used to be. And it was literally wrenched out of inside your body, a place where nobody should be able to go because if your body isn't safe then where the fuck is? So keep that in mind.****

Not only has Astarion not had control of his body, he can't even see it in a reflection. Let that sink in.

To add it all up: he has something written in Infernal on his back that he can't see, but that could mean the one thing he's dreading = being bound to Cazador and having all of this ripped away. Again. And then he'll be punished, doing nothing but thinking about what he only just got a taste of.

This is why the cycle of abuse just crushes hope out of you. Because things hurt so much worse when you're hoping for them to work. At some point you're just hurting yourself by hoping.

He's terrified and he can't even look at his own body to see what someone forcibly mutilated into his skin.

So, Tavurge approaches Astarion from behind, just like in the mirror scene. Except this time, Astarion can't see them approaching.

Tavurge surprises him, in what's already a vulnerable moment, and surprises him from behind. A position of weakness. We'll hit on this more in a moment.

Astarion snaps at Tavurge due to being caught in a vulnerable moment. But, he quickly slides back into his charm and apologizes. Mask back up.

He explains what he was doing and the dialog choices here even throwback to the mirror scene. You can tell him you'll be his mirror in this scene.

He's hesitant about the idea. He's not comfortable with vulnerability, and outright tells Tavurge this isn't their problem. This is an extremely vulnerable thing, especially for someone with body autonomy issues. You're turning your back on someone and asking them to show you what's on your own damn body! What if they lie?

This is a major trust moment for Astarion. If you ask later to talk to others in camp about his scars, he is quick to say no.

He's not ready to trust that much. He just was vulnerable with Tavurge and that took too much out of the vulnerability reserves to push for more. Got to let those reserves build back up by seeing more reasons that show it's okay to be vulnerable.

This man does not want to turn around. He keeps his head down and grimaces, closes his eyes to brace himself. Think about all the triggers he must have about turning his back on people. He wasn't exactly bringing the morally upright back to Cazador. And Cazador, himself, obviously took advantage of his control to force Astarion to turn his back to him. Thus the scars.

Given all of that, he still turns around in an act of consent.

I love that you can just choose to quietly draw. You don't tell him how bad it looks, you don't try to comfort him by saying it's not that bad (which he would likely only hear as patronizing in this moment), and you can choose to not make a joke. I feel that's meaningful.

He turns around and can finally fucking see this thing that's been on his back for over two centuries.

At least he got to see his face, even if he can't remember almost anything about it. At least he can touch his hair, touch his face to get an idea. He can't even do that with the scars.

This means a lot, guys. Tavurge has drawn something that I argue is more meaningful than Astarion's face.

Tavurge has drawn a significant key to his future. The future he wants more than anything.

He needs to figure out what the hell this is before Cazador possibly activates it and Tavurge just made that significantly more possible.

And then, Tavurge has the option to call the two of them "we" for the first time in a way not tied to sex. Telling him "we will figure this out" and not asking for anything in return or giving him a hard time about it - at least not too much. The "shut up and turn around" dialog is one of my favs, and I feel Astarion appreciates the candor.

He's definitely sus when you say "we".

That is the face of sus.

But also...amusedly hopeful?

I like that he calls Tavurge "sweet" here. It makes me think of him calling them "cute" in the spawn ending at the grave with the flower.

I think Astarion really picks up on small things. Things people say and do genuinely, and I think it both amuses and confuses him, and in the beginning (here) still makes him uneasy and suspicious. He even asks it as somewhat of a question. Like, are you really actually this genuine?

I also would like to make an argument to the court that this is a significant moment when Astarion starts to realize he !FEELS! something for Tavurge and it's wigging him out!

They're making him hope again, and that's scary.

So, there. That's my evidence for why this scene is the drawing Astarion scene that we all love in our headcannons.

Tavurge is drawing something of extreme significance here. And I love how incredibly subtle this scene is in not blatantly pointing that out.

It's beautiful writing and that is all, your honor. Midnight dissertation - but also I may be in court - over!

Thank you for reading any of this nonsense.

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ratherbefangirling · 8 months

Text

Belong 8

Pairing: ot7 x reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, omegaverse au

Summary: where Jungkook has to make decisions.

Masterlist

Previous / NEXT

You browsed through the aisle looking for something that wasn't the worn out clothes you owned and was somewhat picture worthy.

Jin showed you a pale pink shirt with a little heart on it.

"Oh that looks cute." You comment.

"What about this?" Taehyung asks pointing to a sundress.

"Is this even appropriate for camping?" You asked unsure.

"You'll rock this I promise" Taehyung told you.

"Ofcourse we're just suggesting feel free to buy what you like." Jin reassures you.

"But seriously this screams you." Taehyung added.

"Tae." Jin warned.

"Fine." Taehyung said.

"Do you need something else? Did you get a torch or rain coat yet?" Jin asks checking the list Hobi sent them.

"Not yet. I'm glad I asked you guys to help me." You say.

Jin smiles at you fondly.

"Ofcourse we're happy to help." Taehyung replies.

You guys shop for everything you need. Jin and Tae don't let you carry any of the bags. When you insist Taehyung buys a slush and designates you as his slush holder. And when your hands get cold he gets Jin to chug it and then both of them hold your hands to warm them.

And some part of you thinks that you should be setting boundaries but you're so cold and they're so warm and maybe you are just a moth to their flame and maybe you'll burn in the end but the only other option the moth has is a cold and dark life.

Namjoon is met with the grim faces of his pack. But even if he hates it he has to take these decisions, hold these meetings.

It doesn't look that different from the regular, Jungkook lies in Jin's lap who is stroking the little alpha's hair. Jimin is feeding himself and the other two apples which yoongi continues to peel. Taehyung and hobi are cuddled together. He too wants to sit between the pack and enjoy the lovely weather.

"So I went to meet Jungkook's professor luckily he's only going to supervise a trip. So crisis averted." Namjoon tells them.

"Thanks hyungie." Jungkook says.

"You're welcome. Now I want to talk about y/n. " He can see the change in atmosphere. "We need to decide if we will officially court her or not. Till now we have sent unofficial courting gifts but reflecting on it I think it wasn't the wisest decision to proceed because Jungkook still hasn't asked her officially. I want to know what everyone thinks" Namjoon says.

Everyone turns to Jungkook.

"I dont know." Jungkook says.

Namjoon rubs his forehead. He feels a headache coming.

"Me and Taehyung saw her with another alpha." Jimin says.

Yoongi nods too. "Me too I saw him come out of her house."

"The flashy car?" Taehyung questions

"The flashy car." Yoongi confirms.

Namjoon's jaw clenches. Even though the courting had not officially began. He considered you pack. The news that another alpha was courting you brought an unpleasant taste to his mouth.

Jimin looked as Namjoon's face darkened. He could sense the bitterness of Namjoon's scent seeping in. While angry Namjoon looked hot. Nobody actually wanted to anger him because angry Namjoon was bitter and petty and his rational side was nowhere to be seen.

" Namjoon, dont" yoongi said softly.

Namjoon forced himself to relax.

"So tell us Jungkook what do you want?" Namjoon asks keeping himself in check.

"I dont know hyung." Came Jungkook's weak reply.

"You don't know fine. I will give you a week and I want an answer. We can't keep waiting anymore." Namjoon said firmly.

"Yes hyung."

"I'm going to bed." Namjoon announced feeling very drained.

"I will come with you." Jin offered.

"Me too." Jimin added.

"Thank you. Good night." Namjoon said leaving.

There was silence until Hobi finally spoke.

"Who wants to try Yoongi hyungs famous seafood ramen recipe? Me. Hyung make some."

Taehyung raised his hand and then lifted Jungkook's as well.

"Ok." Yoongi said as he walked to the kitchen.

"I will help" Jungkook offered.

Yoongi nodded.

You giggled at something Jungkook said. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping.He smiled happy to make you happy. There were flowers around so he made you a flower crown. For his pretty omega.

"Thank you alpha." You said.

"I can be a good alpha."

"I know you can. The flowers are so nice."

"Not more than your scent."

Your smile faded. You threw the crown away.

"You think this lousy thing will make me happy."

A guy with a red car drove destroying the garden. He pulled out a huge bouquet of roses and a diamond ring.

"Now that's what I like." You said and held hands with the alpha and left.

"Mate.. mate" He whimpered.

"Y/n please come back."

Jungkook awoke with a tear stained pillow. He rubbed his eyes. The nightmare still fresh.

Pack. He needed pack. So he trudged pillow and blanket in hand. Usually he'd trouble Jimin because Jimin was a night owl like him but since Jimin was with Namjoon, he decided to go to Taehyung. Despite being older than him he treated Jungkook like a friend.

He entered Taehyung's room.

"Taehyungie hyung" Jungkook called out.

Taehyung looked up from the game he was playing.

"What's up Jungkookie?"

"Had a nightmare. Couldn't sleep."

"Aigoo. Our baby. Come to hyung." Taehyung said putting the laptop aside and patting the bed.

They both snuggled under the covers.

"What is it?" Taehyung asked.

"It's about ... y/n. I don't know what to do?"

"What are you really scared of jungkookie?" Taehyung asked cutting to the chase.

Jungkook hugged a plushie looking away from Taehyung's penetrating gaze.

"It's just... what if..."

"It's ok tell me Jungkook-ah." Taehyung said softer now.

"What if everyone likes her more than me? What if she hates me? Who am I kidding she probably already does?"

"Jungkookie listen to me. I promise you nobody is going to stop liking you because of her. I'm pretty sure you're going to gate keep her. And yeah you were mean to her. But you need to apologise for that. Me and Jimin fight all the time. I'm pretty sure at one point Namjoon hyung was convinced Yoongi hyung didn't like him. Misunderstandings happen. The thing is you need to end it well. And it's you we are talking about once you set sights on something you're relentless. So if you decide to ask for forgiveness do it like you always do things, with sincerety and preserverance it will all work out in the end."

"Thanks hyung."

"You're welcome. Now go to sleep we both have things to do and places to be. Unless you want to start the morning with Jin hyung twisting your nipples."

Jungkook giggled.

Taehyung smiled.

"How was the birthday?" You ask Suyeon as you open the door for her.

"Don't get me started. It was super hectic and like I got to interact with his pack so that was like something." She proceeds to provide a detailed account of the instances around Soobins birthday."Anyway I'm just glad it's over and very happy Soobin liked it. And that I didn't castrate anyone in frustration. Now enough about me How's been everything?" She asks sitting on the barstool.

"It's been alright I went to shop Seokjin and Taehyung accompanied me. It was nice."

"I need details bestie." Suyeon said. "Wait let me get some popcorn. I have a feeling it needs popcorn."

"Don't be dramatic tell me."

You start making popcorn for her.

"I'm thinking of returning the gifts the pack gave me after I.. uh 'helped' with Jungkook's cycle."

"Why?"

"It made me feel a little cheap?"

"Have you opened them yet though."

"No."

"Atleast check them then" Suyeon urges.

"I'm not sure about that."

"What's the worst that can happen?"

"Me actually liking the gifts knowing I can never be part of the pack."

"Girl calm down. You don't know that. Why are you so stuck on the worst scenario. Maybe things can still turn around and if not you always have yeonjun and then we can be part of the same pack."

"Do you.. does Yeonjun.. is he interested in me?"

"Duh. Like I can't tell you details because Soobs has been super secretive whenever I try but I'm definitely sure they have discussed this." Suyeon said.

"Whatever. Let's just open the gifts and get done with it. I want to go to our trip relaxed and stress free." You reply giving the popcorn bowl to Suyeon.

"Sounds good to me. Ready when you are"

You nod. "Ok let's do this."

You sit on the carpet placing the gifts on the coffee table and some next to you. Suyeon sits on the sofa opposite to you.

The gifts have been packaged with care and great details. You open the first one. It's filled with candies that remind you of a familiar scent.

The second box is of shoes. Golden in color which light up and fit you perfectly. You can guess its Hobi's pick. It's a little outrageous but also slightly cool.

There is also a card inside. A thank you card.

Dear Y/nie.

We may not say this enough but we are really grateful to know you. Thank you so much for everything. Thank you for being the kindest sweetest soul.

Love, joon, jin, Yoongi, hobi, tae, jimin, and JK

The next wrapping paper reveals customised pink stationery. It's an expensive brand which you buy and use occasionally. But you can see the thought behind the gift and you are surprised by the cute charm and shimmer details. Jin definitely took charge on this one.

The next is a Teddy. It's cute and has the softest texture. You really do guess the omegas were behind this.

The next one is the smallest of the pile. You open it to reveal seeds. There is even a detailed manual. Which is handmade. You catch the words best seeds from our own garden. The sketches are very pretty and detailed. You suppose Namjoon and Jungkook worked together on this. You had seen Jungkook's art around the house.

"Wow these are really good and thoughtful." Suyeon says impressed.

"Yeah.." You can't help but agree. "So what should I do?"

"Honestly just keep them. It looks like they spent a pretty penny on these nothing cheap. Also Like if I gave you a gift you'd keep it. Think of it this way. You are friends with them right. But ofcourse if you want to return them do it. I support you whatever you do.."

"You're right before all this we were friends and things might be complicated but I guess I should try and resolve it. I'm sure they didn't mean to hurt me and I was just vulnerable."

"Man maybe I should look for a pack that spends their money on me." Suyeon jokes.

You throw a cushion at her.

It was finally the weekend but Yoongi woke up early after going through his phone he decided to go make breakfast or brunch for the pack depending on when they decided to wake up.

He can hear the sound of running water as he nears the kitchen. Inside is Jungkook with an apron on brows furrowed in concentration scrubbing pans which seem to be covered in what is he assumes baking soda and vinegar or whatever cleaning hack Jungkook has recently come across.

"Morning." Yoongi greets making himself a cup of iced coffee.

"Good morning hyung." Jungkook replies still meticulously scrubbing away.

Yoongi decides to give Jungkook space and goes to sort the laundry. Only to find the machine already running and the loads separated and some clothes the ones that needed special care already on the drying rack outside.

"Jungkook. Did you do the laundry?" Yoongi asks.

"Yes hyung."

"You'll tire yourself out."

"It's fine."

"Jungkook. As much as we appreciate the laundry being done and sparkling pots. We don't want you being sick." Yoongi says.

"I know. Its just that I've caused the pack so much trouble."

Yoongi quietly joined Jungkook.

"Things happen. Its life." Yoongi says. Jungkook feels grateful for Yoongi.

"It's just. I'm scared Y/n won't like me. We never hung out before and now when I'm around her it's like I loose control of myself." Jungkook spills.

"Do you think all of us weren't worried about that. It's natural to be scared. But don't let fear control you." Yoongi says placing a comforting hand on Jungkook's shoulder.

"Yoongi hyungs right you know." Hoseok speaks. He had been leaning against the wall listening.

"Hobi hyung" Jungkook acknowledges.

"Hoba." Yoongi greets.

Hoseok wraps himself around Jungkook.

"What's for breakfast?"

"Pancakes?" Yoongi says.

"Oh I got sent this waffle maker. Let's try that."

Hobi goes to search in his PR pile. Jin wakes up punches Jungkook playfully and then brushes his teeth sitting in the couch where Hobi finds him rolls his eyes and sets up the waffle maker.

Namjoon wakes up too a little later as Jin cuts up strawberries from his uncles farm. They discuss a little about growing some strawberries in their home garden.

"Hyung's I have to say something." Jungkook announces.

"What is it Jungkook?" Namjoon asks curious.

"I want y/n to be part of our pack. I'm going to apologise to her.

Omg jk finally got his shit together. So did I to write this chapter. I've been feeling crappy so I haven't been able to get a word out. But I decided to put this chapter out.

Anyway let me know your thoughts as always it's appreciated and it motivates me. An anon asked me if this was on hiatus which reminded me it's been a while since I wrote.thanks for the reminder.

If you have any ideas feel free to send. I'll look forward to it. Have a good day beautiful.

Taglist: @jaiuneamesolitaiire ; @mintsugarmy ; @goooood-vibes ; @juju-227592 ; @singukieee ; @zae007live ; @rainbow-bunny-bts ; @fluffy-canada-pancakes ; @bleubirdinthesky ; @kyrah-williams ; @thedarkwinterrose ; @realswimshaddy ; @emu007 ; @jcrml ; @scuzmunkie ; @angel-121 ; @passionandsuga ;@popcatx0 ; @exfolitae ; @raineandskye ; @notsooperfect ; @toriluvsfics ; @northspiritstorm ; @cryingpages ; @parapiop7

#bts x reader #bts au #bts fluff #bts x you #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #junkook x reader #bts omegaverse #bts abo #bts x y/n

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prettypeppermint · 8 months

Text

the gift of silence. (how sweet the sound)

for t. shelby. a continuation of 'amazing grace.'

You weren't speaking to him. And it was slowly driving him up the wall.

Not that you were normally a chatterbox in the face of Thomas Shelby; you rarely spoke to him unless you needed something. You were always more of a looker; your eyes bore into his from across the room whenever you overheard something you shouldn't have; you studied his slight quirks and subtle movements and stared blankly at his handwriting when verifying papers; you looked when nobody else did. In a sea full of heads, your eyes were always turned against the tide--snowy sea glass amongst pebbles in a blinding summer's ocean. He noticed your gaze when you thought no one did.

Sometimes, wisdom lies in silence rather than words. You knew that above all others.

Come to think of it, that night was the most you had ever talked to him directly since he'd known you. It was the most candid he’d ever experienced you. And he was frightfully prepared.

It wasn't the fact you weren’t talking that bothered him--more so the absence of your voice--something he never thought to irk him until he realized just how much he wanted you to spare him a whisper. He wanted to see you all worked up the way women get sometimes; he wanted to watch you unravel. But you were always so tightly bound.

It's been days since he kissed you--touched you. Thomas was a man of self-control, and he knew it was both the first and the last time he'd ever be selfish with you again. He didn’t know it, but he yearned to wade a bit longer in the satisfaction of knowing you were at least a bit frazzled by him. But you seemed as much out of place as snow in December.

He didn't like how you were added to his long list of tasks and responsibilities. He didn't like how you weighed down his shoulders.

Even with all the help you gave around these parts, you were always just a burden to his mind--the way you smelled of a place far away, the coyly cold shoulders you gave and the moles on your hips. He didn’t like it one bit.

Because now he was the one staring at the back of your neck, at the way your ringlets bounced in a manner almost comical against your serious face. Everything about you seemed to be a paradoxical phenomenon: your coquettish features that rarely spared a smile for anyone, your soft eyes that revealed hardened thoughts, your bouncy curls and the ribbons that sometimes adorned your braids and the lacy little ensembles that complimented your loveliness.

You were so ironically unapproachable. You never missed the quips and spare jokes about it: that people could sense your presence because the room gets cold, that a smile would sit prettier on your mouth than all those cigarettes.

You appeared unperturbed by the smog-capped skylines and rubble-ruined streets of Birmingham; all the sins of the city never wore wrinkles between your brows or sowed smoky wisps along your hairline. It was almost as if you were preserved in that eternal Kilkee ruralness--as if you brought a piece of the Irish coast with you to this Godless city. Farmer's daughter. Fisherman's treasure. You were outlasting and evermore. You were something of the sea.

"I said I needed fifty hand-copies of last month's inventory on my desk by this morning," Thomas breathed matter-of-factly, leaning against the door frame as you indulged in your morning smoke, an old whiskey in his hand. He liked the way your bare shoulders looked as they reflected the breaking dawn--the way the sun collected in your collarbones and made your hair shiny.

It was his turn to stand at the doorway. It was his turn to bear his weight at the threshold.

"I put them on your desk two mornings ago," you responded, matter-of-fact, “Perhaps you forgot to look under your arse, Mr. Shelby.”

Where along the line had he become Mr. Shelby?When did plain, old Thomas leave your vocabulary? He liked it when you called him that--just Thomas.

You never intended to sound so coy all the time. Aunt Pol like to say you were just a pretty girl with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind--sometimes to your own doom.

At that, Thomas tossed a hefty stack of unsorted paperwork on the coffee table you were sat at. He watched as your rosy elbows wobbled under the wood and ash flitted from your slim cigarette.

"You forgot these, Ms. l/n." he rasped blankly, trying to see through to your eyes from the back of your head.

Without looking at him or the papers, you stood up and took your time neatening them up before heaving the stack into your arms. As you passed by his figure in the doorway, you discarded your cigarette in his whiskey glass.

He was left staring blankly at the empty scene before him--one that was once fulfilled with your presence--a sense of longing boiling up in his core. It was out of character to be so subconsciously infatuated with the idea of getting a rise out of you. It was almost ridiculous.

Mr. Shelby seemed to be a master at pushing good things--good women--away.

"A bit harsh on the girl, don’t you think?" Aunt Pol piped knowingly from behind him, emerging from her watchful shadows once you had retreated to Thomas's office.

"No different than I've always been," he said, eyes still trained on the spot at the chair that was once yours.

"Don't take women for the fool that you are, Tommy. I see the way you've been eyeing her--picking her apart. I'll have you fucking another whore before you sink your claws into another girl with a bright path ahead of her."

"Her path ends here, Pol. No girl who ever got tangled up in Shelby business ever makes it to London."

Aunt Pol glared at his nape before leaving him there, sinking in his own wallows.

~~~

"Where're my copies?"

"I threw 'em out."

A moment of silence pulsated through his blood and rose to his brain. He had found you sitting and smoking in your usual spot, merely thirty minutes after his most recent orders. He slowly walked up to your lax frame, still dawned in your silky, lacy little thing of a nightgown.

"I trust that you know those were Mr. Kimber's papers, Ms. l/n," he rumbled lowly--dangerously, "Papers I won't think twice about having you dig through the trash for on the street in nothing but your slip."

"You've done worse," you responded calmly, taking another draw of your cigarette. Recently, you've been blowing through more than your daily 6, and he never failed to notice the little things.

He stepped even closer, his hands buried adamantly in his pockets so they wouldn't reach out for you. Why was loving Grace so easy, and loving you felt like a sour seed in his stomach? As if it would burrow holes in his organs and infect his blood until you did something about it?

"You're gonna get me those papers or I'll have you thrown out to the streets after happy hour."

With that, you stood abruptly from your chair and walked with brisk strides toward the wastepaper bin at the leg of the center table. You plunged your hand into it and pulled from the depths of millions of cigarette butts Thomas's precious Kimber papers. You slapped them on the table riddled with ash and peanut shells and flipped through each page for him, fully filled out and stamped with fresh ink.

Then you climbed atop the table, standing precariously on the splintering wood in your dainty, red dance heels so you could have the upper hand for once.

"You don't get to disrespect me because of your fragile, faulty, little boy of a heart. You don't get to disrespect me because I have an ounce of self-preservation in the face of a man with the power you have. And you don't get to disrespect me, because I am y/n l/n, and I don't work for men who lead with the brain in their cocks." It came out eerily steady, unlike any rage he'd ever been at the receiving end of before.

It was like a flash of soundless lightning; you were gone as soon as it happened, having stepped down from the table to retreat to your sun-spotted, smoke-stained corner. And he was left with the storm that came afterward, soaked in an alien feeling that hadn't made itself quite known to his heart yet.

But much like how most things rear their ugly heads at night--drunkards emerging from their taverns and whores from their brothels--Thomas Shelby's ugly little things were no exception.

Night changes a man; it shrouds him in regret and urges forced down throughout the day and lust unravished.

Night made Thomas hungry.

And so he found himself watching over your sleeping form folded at the waist and draped across the table you've been sitting at the entire day, where you've done nothing but stare out the window and let the smoke abuse your lungs. Your cigarette, now a measly stub, was still haphazardly pinched between your tired fingers. He found that smoking didn't suit you--it tainted your rosy face that otherwise emulated an ethereal countryside purity. The Irish foreshore was still fresh on your cheeks.

In sleep, you reverted to the girl you were born as: simple and lovely and kind as a bird.

He felt the sour seed growing.

He slipped his hand around your wrist and maneuvered your body onto his back with ease before carrying you to his room where he set you down on his sheets. His hand instinctively reached for the pipe on the nightstand, but it trembled before tightening into a fist that fell limply at his side.

What he hadn’t known was that you both experienced night terrors, but as he lay awake on the floor next to his bed with your writhing and moaning frame, it became abundantly clear.

He wondered what was haunting your conscience and digging its way into your sleep. Maybe you've been through a few wars of your own. None that men would know, anyway.

As his mind continued shifting and shuffling, he felt a warmth press into his back; you had stepped off the bed and laid down on the cool, dry planks next to him--back to back and facing away from each other. He could feel your silk stick to your sweat. Time froze, and within that time, so did the nightmares.

Seconds drawled into minutes before it all became a blur as shadows morphed into stories on the moonlit wallpaper. It stretched and stretched.

"Do you want to know what I dream of at night?" you slurred, breaking the industrial silence. Your voice was thick with an unrestful break from the world.

When Thomas didn't respond, you continued: "I dream of my home in Ireland: its salty mist and green softness all around. I'm standing there, on a plain, looking out over the ocean. I'm smiling. And each time the tide hits the rocks and recedes back into its basin, I see something emerge from the salt onto the rocks. They're people--bodies--their skin so bloated and fermented from the salt I can't even recognize them, but it feels like I should. Like I know them. And I'm stuck on this plain, trying to make out the faces of my mother and sisters and brother as they keep piling up. Over and over and over. I can't stop it. Because the tide always ebbs. It gets closer and louder, and I'm still smiling. And I pray I wake up before it gets to me and I'm the one on the rocks, rotting and unrecognizable. And I feel awful for it."

Another silence spanned, and Thomas realized he was foolish to ever wish it away. Because silence was how you both communicated. Silence was the language only the two of you were fluent in. Silence bridged the gap that words created. Silence was what he wished for when he heard the shovels chipping at the wall night after night.

"Thomas, you love me." It was a mere whisper, as if you too were scared of ending the silence--the gift of time.

"I love you," echoed Thomas. It was so low and so guttural, as if sprouting from that very sour seed that--within the span of the night--had grown into something pulpy and bittersweet instead.

With that, you both dozed off. And Thomas woke up without the sound of the shovels.

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