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duskyvenus · 3 months

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444: Written in the Stars

A PAC about the person who is the one for you 💖 Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Open your eyes and choose the photo that speaks to you. Six piles left to right. This is for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates.

Pile 1

Your person likes/has cats or cats can be significant in your relationship. This person really likes nature and animals. They like listening to music and may have a record player at home. Could also be an artist. A highly sensitive person. They see beauty in everything. They like taking photos to capture memories. May have brown hair or brown eyes. March and April might be important. This person is a bit melancholic and absentminded at times (?) It can be hard to notice at first but they have a lot on their mind. Nevertheless they know that they are more sensitive than most people and try to stay hopeful. You could feel resilience and healing energy oozing from them when you talk to them. They could also be a therapist or counselor or someone who studies psychology. They have the vibes of a very calm and nice teacher who minds their own business. They know how powerful words can be and they insist on maintaining peace. A very helpful person. "I know you can do it but let me do it for you" kind of person. Numbers and signs: 33, 3, 19, 14, Pisces, Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, Sagittarius, Cancer, Leo

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 2

Your person likes coffee or tea. They like celebrating their wins. I'm seeing cakes and lots of smiling faces. They are definitely very outgoing. They like forming meaningful relationships, not just mindless networking. They have creativity and a lot of ideas, so they could be a content creator or influencer. Sharp, spontaneous and open-minded. They're also financially secure; I'm seeing a job in finance. And they rely on people a lot more than they should? Maybe because they are looking for something that they can't find in a job. I'm seeing some co-dependency. They carry a lot of nostalgia and regret in their heart; someone who feels homesick for people. They may have studied anthropology and sociology. Couple outfits or couple activities is their thing. The type of person who gets hurt by people but still cannot imagine a whole life without a partner. June or October might be significant. They collect things like stamps or shells or dried flowers. Their house could look like a museum. YOLO could be their motto. Numbers and signs: 25, 1, 11, 13, Libra, Sagittarius, Aries, Leo, Taurus, Pisces

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 3

This pile has some young energy. Someone with a competitive spirit. They have this spoiled princess/prince persona for the people that don't know them very well. In reality, they are someone who works very hard to achieve success and they could be very smug about their accomplishments which might put some people off. I'm sensing that they believe in manifestation and law of attraction. They're also a bit defensive and guarded so it's hard to get to know them. I think they are someone who just wants to have control over their own life. They might have grown up in a situation where they didn't have much control over decisions concerning them so now, they are just trying to get their power back. They learned to stand up for themselves so now the people that could no longer control them are not happy about it. They made peace with it though. They're focusing on making their pinterest board dream life come true. One of their biggest dreams is to live in a beautiful house. January and August could be important. Numbers and signs: 16, 8, 5, 4, Scorpio, Virgo, Pisces, Capricorn, Aquarius, Aries, Sagittarius

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 4

Your person is everywhere but also nowhere. They remind me of shows like my liberation notes, they feel like a warm cup of tea that comforts you at the end of a stressful day. They are the “always the artist but never the muse" trope. Similar to pile 1, they are soft spoken and kind. They fit in but they don't feel seen. They like journaling their thoughts because they feel so much. "I don't know where to put it down" Despite this, they have a small group of friends that feel like soulmates or soul family to them. Getting closer to them can be hard because they just enjoy their own solitude that they don't feel the need to be with someone all the time. Very independent. When you get to know them though, you will find that they are very accepting and funny even. A true friend and a loyal partner. They will love to share their interests and hobbies with you. They desire someone who gets them on a spiritual level and they will always be there for you. They really value loyalty and a no bs attitude. For some of you, they could be from a different culture/country. They can probably speak many languages. The type to learn your native language so that communication is never a barrier. Numbers and signs: 32, 13, 14, 5, Virgo, Gemini, Pisces, Leo, Libra, Capricorn, Scorpio, Aquarius

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 5

This person has an elusive persona. The cold and rich male lead character of a manhwa/drama. They prefer night over day; might be a night owl. They are secretly a hopeless romantic. They need someone who is like sunshine. Initially they give off this dark, serious and mature vibe but underneath they have a very soft core. They are a very caring and nurturing person but that energy has been stifled because of their environment. The reason why they act so serious is because they don’t want people to take advantage of them. To them, you are like a warm ray of sunshine that makes them feel alive again. They hate authority. They hate having all these responsibilities that tie them down and keep them busy. They are deserving of their position because of their hard work and leadership qualities, but sometimes they just want to run away from it. They feel that they have a different purpose. However, they could be hesitant to move on from their comfort zone. Out of all the piles, this pile is the most eager to meet you. They said, “you have so much light, the plants grow towards you”. Numbers and signs: 25, 8, 14, 3, Capricorn, Virgo, Leo, Cancer, Taurus, Aries, Libra

Thank you for reading!!

Pile 6

This pile has a very endearing energy. Someone who goes through all of it and yet chooses to be kind. “Memories are all I have” A very poetic or sentimental kind of person who struggles in making decisions. Also, they like humor based on their own pain. They like visiting places that are off the grid and collecting random things. They often dress up to go nowhere. They tend to do a lot of silly things that wouldn’t make sense to the average person because they are silly, duh. Quite the hopeless romantic too. Apart from all the silliness, they are avoidant of the reality because they often dissociate and have tendency to spiral into inner turmoil. They may struggle to understand their own feelings. All this is hidden under the persona of being the happy go lucky friend. In the end, they just want to bond over the little things and enjoy the mundane tasks of everyday life with someone. They may work in a field related to children or history. May, September could be significant. Numbers and signs: 26, 6, 2, 18, Cancer, Scorpio, Gemini, Pisces, Virgo, Libra, Aries

Thank you for reading!!

#pick a card #tarot reading #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #tarotblr #intuitive readings #spirituality #psychic readings #psychic #divination #intuitive #love reading #future spouse #love readings #future lover #divider by saradika #duskyvenus

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dailypenpen · 4 months

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What do Genshin Men think of with you in their arms? (pt. 2)

characters: Alhaitham, Wriothesley, and Childe

notes: overworked reader (Alhaitham). gn reader, only you pronouns used.

a/n: hello hi um make sure to like and subscribe!! Thank you all for your nice comments on my previous post :) this might not be as good as the prev one 🙇

HERE'S PART 1

Alhaitham thinks you're quite the unique person. You're on the verge of sleep, yet you insist on fighting the urge to shut your eyes. You try, and fail, to rub it out. Your pen is gripped loosely in your hands, your handwriting starting to appear like gibberish.

Alhaitham frowns at your actions, observing you with lidded eyes. Why are you so persistent in keeping yourself awake? Don't you realize that your body is already telling you that it wants to retire right now? He wonders if you got any sleep last night, with how your head is drooping so much. His eyebrows knit together in worry at your state.

You aren't even listening to him anymore, brushing it off with something along the lines of you're not tired. Your lies aren't backed up properly, Alhaitham points out, with how much you're yawning. You groan, now moving to ignore him completely. Your writing is now incomprehensible. You almost planted your face on your papers.

Well, drastic times call for drastic measures. You are in mighty need of a nap.

He grabs you by the shoulders, much like a mother cat with its kitten. He drags you away to the couch with ease. Your sleepy protests are left unheard as he gently sets you down onto the cushions. The moment your body feels the softness of it, your face melts with satisfaction. Alhaitham sighs, sitting next to you. He reaches for your head, letting it lean against his shoulders as the two of you relax.

He glances at you, your tired eyes finally closed. He looks down at your hands and intertwines them with his own. The corner of his lips turned up at the soft sight of it. Who would have thought that someone like him would end up with someone like you? It's puzzling, really. But he chooses not to question it, settling on focusing on you.

Alhaitham presses a soft kiss on your head, his other hand running through your hair. He takes in your features, taking in the ethereal beauty that your entire being exudes. He leans in close, wanting to look at you even more clearly. Tracing the curves of your face, studying it with precision. His eyes trained to look at every part of your face that he deems the most wonderful piece of art his eyes ever laid on. Beating even Kaveh's best work, he muses to himself.

You stir, blinking awake your eyes in hopes that you can catch a peek of him. You try to subtly glance at him but you didn't expect him to look at you like that. To look at you with such softness, with such fondness. With such great intent, great purpose. You can feel your cheeks flush at his heavy gaze. Like by just looking at you, he might find all the answers he seeks.

"Take your rest now, sunshine. You deserve it."

Wriothesley thinks that he is one damn lucky guy. The two of you decided to go on a much needed date after not seeing each other for so long. You wanted to go to this one restaurant, fancy decorations and equally fancy food to be paired with a lovely night together. Of course, who was he to say no to you? He missed spoiling you, hugging you, giving you all the love you rightfully deserve. But work had made both of you busy, so it's no wonder why he immediately jumped to the offer of a date.

He leans against a building near the restaurant, occasionally looking at his pocket watch. He's wearing something more formal, yet still so distinctively him. Wriothesley tugs on his tie, Sigewinne must have tied it a bit too tight for his own liking. It takes half a mind for him to resist the urge to loosen it.

He glances at the people around him, whispering amongst themselves. He knows that some people are looking at him with surprise. The Duke, out in public? Not on official business? He smirks at the thought of their potential questions. The people here can't live without their gossip, can they?

Your voice suddenly calls out for him, Wriothesley instantly perking up. You're running towards him, a huge smile on your face. He opens his arms wide, and you take the cue to jump forwards. He doesn't so much as stumble when you both collide against one another. He wraps his arms around you, taking in your scent and warmth.

At this very moment, he thinks that all is finally well in this world.

You're almost floating off the ground, with Wriothesley lifting you up so that your face is close to his. Your huge grin from before is still present, your hands moving to cup both of his cheeks. He softens instantly, akin to a dog receiving pats from their owner. You could almost see a tail tagging from behind him.

He thinks you look absolutely gorgeous— almost ravishing if anything. You don't often wear clothes like this, but when you do he just relishes in it. He preps kisses on the palms of your hands, smile softening as he hears you chuckle at his actions. He sets you down, not before staring deep into your eyes and leaning ever so closely. He whispers to you, intending that you and only you can hear his proclamation of love. That only you can know about what he truly thinks of you.

"Sweetheart, do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Childe thinks he might be in heaven. The two of you just finished a round of sparring with one another, covered in sweat and grim from it. He sighs in satisfaction, knowing that you beat him this time. He'd want nothing more than to shout out to the skies that he lost against his lover. Childe is proud that he lost, because it was against you. He'd be ok with losing, if it was you who was winning.

You lazily lean against his back, gasping for air. You wipe your sweat with your shirt as it hurriedly drips to the ground. All the while Childe is starring intently at you. You don't even notice the way he's looking at you, eyes focused on your exhausted figure. He whistles lowly, eyes glinting with a plan.

Who was he to deny himself of this opportunity?

Before you know it, you feel a weight on your back and you somehow manage not to fall under it. You screech in surprise, turning your head to look at Childe with wide eyes. You try to shake him off you but he's persistent in staying put. He only grins at you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling your neck. He doesn't care that he's sweaty or that you are too. All he wants right now is to be close to you, even if both of you are filthy and in desperate need for a bath.

You eventually give up, grumbling under your breath. Your hand unconsciously moves to his hair, ruffling it to get the dirt out. He hums in glee, eyes closed and hands tightening around you more. Childe wishes to stay like this forever but he knows that you'll immediately protest to his suggestion. What a bummer, he thinks to himself. You are much too comfortable to let go of. If he had it his way, he would have brought you both to the ground. That way, you won't be able to escape his hugs.

He kisses your cheek, reluctantly releasing you from his embrace. You turn to look at him, wanting to scold him. And dread goes to your face once you look at his playful face. What was he thinking this time? Surely he wouldn't want to spar again? Childe laughs at your expression, and he can almost hear what you're thinking. Really, can you blame him? You give him so much joy and happiness! Who was Childe if he wasn't going to chase that high?

Plus, it's you. He'll never get tired of you, no matter what you both do.

"C'mon babe, you can't be tired already! Come at me!"

Please consider liking and reblogging!!

#I was struggling help KSNIABEJS #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #al haitham fluff #alhaitham #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #childe x reader #childe x you #childe fluff #childe #tartaglia #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #penguin writings!!

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 8 months

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Intertwined

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader - Soulmate Au!

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: Angst, arguments, Elijah being overly protective but denying himself happiness as always, canon typical violence, a bit of fluff at the end.

Author’s Note: Because I'm apparently on a sequel kick, here's another. I promise I'm getting to the requests that I have and all the things I still need to work on from last year. I'm going where the muse takes me in my writing flow. So there's that. Also please note that you need to read Hidden Marks before reading this one.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

Hidden Marks || TVDU Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

It had been months since Elijah had seen the three intertwined circles on the middle of Y/N’s back that made up her soul mark. The first and only time he'd seen it, he'd been pulling a wooden bullet out from her back when she asked for his help. From the moment Elijah helped to remove the bullet, the mark haunted him.

Seeing her mark should have been a great thing. It should have brought him some peace and happiness to see her mark. That her mark matched the very one he had just below his left clavicle. A perfect pair that made sense for how close they had become as friends over the century. If anything, since seeing her mark he's been conflicted on his feelings.

Part of him wants and tries to be protective of her. His soulmate that had come into his life when he least expected it. The woman that had become his best friend over the century had been the one thing he never actively searched for. He now knew why she stepped into his life and never left. But it was the other part of him that caused him to fight daily with his feelings.

Y/N would be in danger because of him. She would soon become a target if even the slightest word had slipped about who his soulmate was. An endless cycle he'd force her into if an enemy ever came knocking. Threats and being captured for the sole purpose of being leveraged against him.

Not to mention if his brother had ever lost his temper with him. Klaus wasn't one to spare the women in Elijah's life before. What difference would it make this time? All it would take was one action that made Klaus feel the slightest ounce of betrayal and he'd take it out on her.

Elijah was willing to take on the devil himself if Y/N was in danger. He was reminded of it any time she recklessly put herself in harm's way. An argument he had with her plenty of times during their friendship, but held a deeper meaning as of recently.

He was also reminded daily how easily she could bend him to her will with a simple smile as she walked into the room. Or the occasional knowing look she'd give him when he or his siblings said something she didn't agree with that would almost instantly change his mind about the situation. Especially if she added in her details that would make it reckless on her part.

But no matter how many times that feeling of comfort and love started to grow for the woman he believed he could only care for platonically, he could never voice it. He could never bring himself to mention the details that he knew. And because he chose to keep it to himself, it began the yoyo effect of wanting to keep her at a distance and keep her close for his own sanity.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Y/N either. From the moment she offered him a night out to deal with the humans who had put the bullets into her back, she noticed something different. She noticed the way his demeanor changed around her. He grew worrisome over the smallest of things he never had before. And even fought with her longer over details of plans to help take down the threat the Mikaelsons had been faced with.

She found herself frustrated on the days that he brushed her off and all but ignored her. He had never once been cold to her in the time that she had known him. They had pushed each other’s buttons on occasion, but Elijah had never once pushed her away like he had been doing now. Every time he did, it hurt more than Y/N had ever expected it to.

They were close friends, she knew that. She knew there would always be moments that Elijah would pick his family over her. That there would be moments where he would keep his family safe and do anything he could to also keep her safe. She knew she was not the highest priority. But why did it feel like someone had staked her when he walked away from her when she felt she really needed him for a few moments?

That's when the thoughts of doubt had been planted in her head. Doubts that were formed and fueled to drive her insane for most of the night that made it almost impossible to sleep. What had she done to earn such coldness from someone that she was close with? Had she crossed a boundary that she had suddenly been unaware of?

The final straw that broke her had been moments ago when she offered to go with him to deal with the beginning of a threat. It was always something they had done together. A way to have Elijah’s calm and calculated approach and her glimmer of chaos that would always work out in their favor. But when he told her to stay behind, she could no longer keep anything at bay anymore.

The moment Elijah had told her to stay behind, her face fell at his words. And as he walked past her to leave his expression hadn’t changed. And as she turned to face him, she let it all out.

“What have I done?” She asked, causing him to stop in his tracks. “Have I wronged you in some way that makes you no longer want to be around me?”

Elijah heard the way her voice cracked towards the end. He had hoped that his actions wouldn’t hurt her. But here she was asking what she had done to him when in reality it had been him to do it. He turned to face her and shook his head slightly.

“No.” His voice was composed in comparison to hers. “You have done nothing at all.”

She shook her head as she crossed her arms. “I’ve known you for over a century, Elijah. I know well enough to know you are lying to me. If I’ve done nothing wrong there wouldn’t be this shift between us where it feels like you suddenly want nothing to do with me.”

“I assure you that if I had wanted nothing to do with you, you would not still be standing here.” It was as close to the truth he could go to without coming out right with it. “We are facing a potential threat that I feel as though I need to do this with my siblings. We have no idea what they are fully capable of and the last time I checked, you are not as indestructible as you believe.”

Elijah had no idea how this threat would continue to play in their lives. He had no idea what knowledge they planned to use against them in an attempt to try and take him and his family out. That was why Elijah wanted to do this without her. He wanted to make sure that she would remain safe.

He didn’t want to take Y/N with him with the possibility of allowing them to get an inkling that Y/N had now meant more to him than he let on. He didn’t want her in danger from something he didn’t fully understand. This was the part of him that was willing to do anything to protect her. He just had to slightly push her away in order to do so.

“That never stopped you before.” She noted as she took a step towards him. “I may not be an original, but I am still a whole lot older than a majority of the threats that walk into the city. I have proven myself over and over that I can handle my own. I’m even better by your side. But ever since you’ve seen my mark, it’s like you don’t want to be near me. All I want is the truth from you. Did I do something or did my mark tell you something that you haven’t told me?”

Elijah looked at the ground for a moment before looking back up to her. He could see the hurt in her eyes as she expressed everything. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her even though every part of him wanted to. To bring some peace to her mind on his reasoning instead of making her feel as though she wasn’t wanted.

“I’m going to try to make this as clear as I can." His voice was still even, almost void of any emotion. "This threat is not to be taken lightly. While we do not have the full specifics on who they are or why they are here, I do know they have come close to harming the people I care about." His eyes met hers. "While our normal plan pairs perfectly with the riff raff we deal with, at this moment it does not. So no, you will not accompany me tonight. I need you here."

After taking in his words, all she could manage was a nod before he was gone from her sight. He didn’t even give her a chance to respond or fight him on what he was telling her. And it left Y/N feeling defeated.

Her mind still tried to make sense of the changes that had come over the last few months. Every push and pull that happened between the two being analyzed as if it had been some rather important document or experiment being worked on. She was trying to find something, anything, to show what caused Elijah’s sudden change. No matter how many ways she thought about it, it only came back to one starting point: the night Elijah saw her mark.

Had seeing it really thrown him off to not want to be near her like he had used to? Not showing them their marks had been a preference they decided on early in their friendships. If there was ever a day they felt comfortable in showing what it was, they would have. And that night, with a bullet in her back, it hadn’t mattered if Elijah had seen it or not.

She ran a hand along her face, trying to shake off the thoughts that had kept her pacing her room for hours after he had left. She no longer cared about the mark or who she may have possibly shared it with. Why did that change now that Elijah had seen it?

It made her wonder if he had seen the mark on someone else. If there was a possibility that he felt guilty in some way after seeing it. There had been plenty of enemies in his existence. At some point he could have easily come across it and not realized it until he saw it on her back.

Did it belong to someone who had betrayed him? Had he seen it on someone that he had taken their life out of necessity? Or had this person been a victim of the many spells he had endured?

Deep down she knew it was the fear of losing Elijah. Something she had thought about over the century and a half she had known him. Friendships can only last so long before one reason or another comes along. She knew plenty of people who had left her on the back burner after finding their soulmate, even during her human years.

She had grown used to having Elijah in her life. It would take her longer to find a memory that didn’t involve Elijah versus the ones with. Over the years she had become dependent on the fact that Elijah had always been there for her just as she was for him. He was a constant and part of her hated the thought of her ever losing that.

At the thought, Y/N had felt her heart sink. A simple thought putting everything into perspective to her. The idea may have been formed from past experiences, but it all made sense. Elijah must have found his soulmate. And if that was the case, she was sure this was the beginning of being put further back on the burner.

“Y/N?!” Rebekah’s panicked voice had broken her from her thoughts, causing her to move quickly to find Rebekah.

Upon reaching the courtyard, a gasp left her lips as she found Rebekah dragging a half standing Elijah towards the couch. The majority of his clothing had been covered in blood. Parts of the fabric had been torn in several places. It was as if Elijah had picked a battle he couldn’t win.

“What the hell happened?” Y/N asked as she moved to help get Elijah settled on the couch. Her eyes had still been taking him in, accessing his injuries.

“Witches.” Elijah breathed out as he tried to get a hold of reality. He had lost enough blood and his mind had been a distorted mess from the magic he had been subjected to.

“Everything had been going according to plan but whatever spell they used on him, it threw him off course.” Rebekah took the moment to leave the room to get items they needed to help Elijah for the time being until Freya could get back there. The moment she was back she continued. “The others are still there dealing with them.”

Seeing the items Rebekah had brought, Y/N reached for the towel that had been sitting in a bowl of water and began cleaning off the blood from Elijah’s face and neck. “I can understand the disorientation, but what the hell ripped into him?”

There was panic rising within Y/N. She hated that he had made her stay behind. She could have been there to help him in some way. Been there to help prevent him from being hurt as he was now.

"Between the spell and some of the wolves within the vicinity, he couldn't watch his back." Rebekah said as she picked up another towel and folded it before placing it on Elijah's forehead. Afterwards she began picking up little containers of what Y/N could only assume were herbs and salves that Freya had instructed her to use for the time being.

As Y/N ran the towel over his neck, Elijah lifted his hand to her hand, stilling her movements. It caused her to look up at him. His eyes had been looking over her face, before they settled on her eyes.

"You're safe." His voice was barely above a whisper.

She nodded her head. "I am safe. You made sure I was." She wasn't sure if that was what he needed to relax more as she attempted to help clean him. "Freya will be here soon."

With that, Elijah seemed to relax his hold and it allowed for her to continue wiping up the blood. So far it looked as though any of the injuries he sustained were healing. It may have been at a whole lot of a slower pace, but his wounds were healing. But the moment her hand moved to remove the shredded fabric stuck to his skin along his left shoulder and chest, his hand grabbed a hold of her wrist, not wanting her to continue.

"I need to make sure your wounds are healing Elijah." She said softly as she brought her eyes up to his once more. "Or to at least give me the peace of mind that this looks way worse than it is."

"For once let someone take care of you." Rebekah added and pulled his hand away from Y/N. It had been too easy to remove his hand. His strength is almost non-existent given what he'd been through.

Elijah hated that he couldn't get his mind to process the protest he wanted to give. He hated that he couldn't give a strong enough response to say he'd deal with it later. But the spell within his mind made it difficult to think clearly for more than a second or two at a time.

Elijah’s eyes never left Y/N’s face as she began to move the fabric away from his chest. He didn't care about the wounds he was facing. He didn't even care that Y/N and Rebekah were caring for him. It was what laid just under the layers of fabric she was removing, that had him worried.

Quickly dipping the towel into the bowl of water between her and Rebekah, Y/N brought it back up to his chest and began to rid him of the drying blood. There was a part of her that was relieved to not see some gaping wound that he was trying to prevent her from seeing.

That relief soon turned into curiosity as the blood was being wiped away. The beginning of Elijah's mark became clear as day. With each wipe of the towel the mark continued to grow. And as last of the reminisce of blood was removed from the mark, she all but dropped the towel.

Just below his left clavicle had been three intertwined circles. It ran horizontally across his skin in the exact same way it ran across the middle of her back. And for a moment she fought herself on reaching out just to run her fingers along the mark. A need to make sure it was really there.

Elijah had watched her the whole time. Even through his hazed mind he could see the way relief had flooded her eyes before her brows began to furrow. The curiosity in her eyes had been evident and there was nothing Elijah could do to fully protest in his current state. All he could do was watch her as she learned what he had months ago.

Her soulmate had been right there in front of her for over a century.

Her eyes snapped to him and Elijah could see several emotions flash through her eyes. He could see the way there was a sliver of excitement before hurt filled them as she tried to stop the tears from welling up.

"What is it?" Rebekah asked as she caught on that Y/N had stopped her movements.

Y/N shook her head slightly before looking away from Elijah. "Nothing worth noting." She said as she went back to wiping the blood.

She kept her eyes away from the mark and as best as she could from keeping them from looking up at Elijah. She could feel his eyes on her. But she refused to look his way.

All of her wild thoughts that had been going through her head earlier had only been partially right. She honestly never thought this was the case. And if she was being honest with herself, this felt worse.

He had found his soulmate like she thought. But she hadn't expected it to be herself. Not with the way he had pulled himself away from her during the course of the last few months. Not with the way she felt that she was losing her best friend.

Elijah knew that he was her soulmate and he didn't tell her. There wasn't an excitement at knowing that the person they spent decades with had been the one person they both chose not to actively look for. Their life had been great just as it was. Until Elijah saw her mark.

She tried to stop the spiral of thoughts that began to form. It was already too late to try to spare her heart the pain it was currently feeling. No matter how hard she tried to focus on helping Rebekah take care of him, one single thought played in her mind on a constant loop.

He knew they were soulmates and he tried pushing her away.

The moment Freya came running into the courtyard with Klaus and Kol behind her, Y/N pulled herself slowly away from the side of the couch. It was a way to not only keep the now unwanted attention of her facial expressions away but to give the necessary space Freya would need.

When she moved a little too far for Elijah’s liking, his hand grabbed a hold of hers. This time his grip was tighter in comparison to earlier. He was getting better, stronger. The venom from the wolf bites was leaving his system while the spell kept a tight hold over him.

Y/N's eyes met his one more time. She could tell he was pleading with her to stay there with his eyes. Almost to say that once Freya helped him he'd explain everything to her. That he needed her to stay there.

There was something in her eyes that changed a moment after his words had pierced the air. “Would you tell me if you saw the mark on someone else?”

“Of course.” He said even though it had been a lie. He knew he wasn’t going to speak of the very mark that was on his chest.

Her heart ached at the sudden memory that filled her mind. She wanted to break down. She wanted to run to get fresh air. Do anything that would allow her to process the information she had been given in the last few minutes.

Freya came over and knelt down beside Elijah, giving Y/N the chance to pull her hand away from Elijah. She took several back as she tried to decide if she wanted to stay or leave the area. But a heartbeat later she was mumbling some excuse and left the courtyard.

It was only when she was safely behind the door of her room, she felt more clarity than she had downstairs. The wave of emotions she felt calmed in comparison. While silent tears had begun falling, it hadn't felt like her world had come crashing to a halt as it had.

"For as many times as I've come here to hide away, there's never been another person here." Y/N said as she took in the stranger. "Might have to find a new one if this one is compromised."

"I can assure you, I've known about this place for a lot longer than you." The stranger looked towards her. "I may have been out of the city for some time, but I will know more about the history than you ever will.”

A laugh passed her lips causing a smile to form on his lips. “What if I told you I watched that town in the distance be built?”

His eyebrow raised slightly before he looked towards the town she had been speaking of. “I’d then ask if you knew what was out there before the town was built.”

“A small village.“ She responded. “One that was destroyed just a few years after I was born. There are stories of a creature that roamed the woods that surrounded that village. A creature that was hunted but never killed.” She shrugged her shoulders before looking back towards the stranger. “Though I’d love to hear what you have that can top that.”

He laughed for a moment before he placed his hand out between them. “I’m Elijah. And I assure you, I can surpass any story you’ve been told about the area.”

“That’s a challenge I’m willing to take.” She said as she placed her hand in his. “I'm Y/N.”

That year Y/N needed to get away from the life she had found herself in after being a vampire for a few centuries already. The mountaintop just above the town she was born in had always been her go to place to reevaluate her life as a human and as a vampire. That night, Y/N had been debating on watching the sunrise for the last time.

But Elijah had been there to pull her thoughts away from the sunrise and into a life that she had now thrived in. Elijah had been there when she needed him the most. Her soulmate had been the one to pull her back from the edge and she never knew it until now.

Elijah had saved her that night. He saved her and it wasn't long after he paid off a witch to create a daylight ring for her. A friendship shouldn't be had just in the dark. Those had been his words as he held up the daylight ring for her to take a few minutes before sunrise a few weeks later.

Her heart picked up in pace as her mind continued to accept everything that happened. The details of their meeting to this current moment made sense from a soulmate perspective. No matter how many times the flashes of memories played through her mind, there was no changing the facts.

"What if I don't want to marry my soulmate?" A young Y/N asked as she kicked her shoe at the dirt.

Her mother's laugh filled the air. "You don't always have to marry your soulmate. Sometimes it depends on what best suits the both of you. Your soulmate can be a best friend or even a lover. Sometimes they're both." She knelt down to Y/N's height. "There's one thing I know though. Having them in your life in any form is a whole lot better than not having them in your life or losing them. So when you are able to meet the person that knows your soul without needing to try hard, fight as hard as you can. Fight with them, for them and alongside them as needed." She ran her hand along Y/N’s cheek. "I know this doesn't make a lot of sense right now, but I promise one day you'll understand. "

The sound of the knock on her door followed by the door slowly opening had pulled her out of her thoughts and memories. Without even looking she had already known it was Elijah. She quickly wiped at her cheeks before she turned towards the door.

The moment she had, Elijah could see that the whirlwind of emotions he saw earlier in her eyes had shifted. Even as her eyes welled up, he could see the hurt along with acceptance. And if he was being honest with himself, the acceptance is what scared him.

He took a few steps further into her room before he came to a stop. "What I've done was-"

"Cowardice?" She finished for him before he got the chance to even form the next word. It made him raise his brow. "Because whatever reasoning you have for not telling me was the worst decision you have ever made. And I know there have been plenty of questionable decisions you've made."

"I know I should have told you that night." He gave a slight nod. "For a brief moment I wanted to. But then I realized the danger you would be in because of me."

She had already begun shaking her head before he finished speaking. "Danger that I haven't already been in from just being close with you. Or to your siblings for that matter." She watched as he opened his mouth to speak but she quickly continued to stop him. "I know it's not the same. Putting it out there makes it more real and practically puts a target on both of us. I know what that target looks like. That just means we'll be better prepared for it."

She knew from experience how easy it was to use a soulmate as leverage. How easy it was to threaten them to get someone to bend to their will. There was a dark decade in Y/N's existence where she had once toyed with humans and their soulmates. A time where her humanity had been switched and she hadn't cared.

She knew the tricks that could be played. She knew how much damage someone could take before they snapped. The emotional torment that could be played on both parties to get the point across was something she lived for during that dark decade.

At least that was until her humanity had been forcefully switched on. She tormented herself afterwards on how she could carelessly manipulate people by using the one weakness they all had. It was part of the reason she found herself heading back to the mountaintop.

"If today has taught me anything it's that you were safer without me near." He watched as her eyebrow raised before he continued. "While having you by my side would have been beneficial for many reasons, I watched as my worst fear played through my mind because of a spell. A spell that provided sufficient reasons on why I was right on my decision to not say anything."

"A spell that was used to distract you.” She noted. It explained why he had seemed so relieved at seeing her safe. "And a fear that we could have worked out beforehand if you simply had told me. I spent the last several hours wondering how and when I had become the problem. Part of me knew that you had found your soulmate and that was why you were pushing me away. That maybe you were trying to distance yourself from me to make room for them." Her eyes began to well up. "I just never thought you'd be pushing me away because I am your soulmate."

Elijah shook his head slightly as guilt filled him. He could see in that moment how hurt she had been by it. The emotions she had displayed when he first came into the room broke down bit by bit. And the thought that she believed she was the problem stung him in ways he never believed it would.

"I don't know if I can be what you need me to be." He said a moment later. "It has been proven time and again that whenever I let an ounce of happiness into my life, it's quickly taken away. I refuse to have the same thing happen to you. And if that means keeping you at a distance or even you leaving the city-"

"Nothing has to change!" She cut him off as she shook her head. "We have been by each other's side for over a century without even knowing we were soulmates. We have been through hell and back together without even questioning how it was possible. I have fought by your side not caring if I died in the process." She wiped at her cheeks as more tears escaped. "I will continuously be by your side even after this. I don't care if it is as something more or keeping things as it has been. But don't you dare for one moment think that I would be safer with you pushing me away or even deciding that it's better without you in my life."

He sighed softly before taking a few steps to close the distance between them. "If anything were to ever happen to you because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself." His hand came up to her cheek before using his thumb to wipe away more of her tears.

"It's going to happen with or without you in my life." Her eyes met his. "I am no stranger to being threatened by your family. I have had Klaus's hand on my heart and I'm still here in front of you." She placed her hand on top of his as she leaned into his touch slightly. A way to prove that she was there. "I am not even a stranger to having a witch use me as leverage or even used to fight against you. I can leave tonight and what's to stop anyone from coming after me once it's actually figured out?" She watched as he took in her words. "This isn't just one sided either. I am afraid of what each new threat could mean for you. I want and need you to be safe, maybe even for my own selfish reasons. But I will not let you push me away without at least fighting to stay. I will continue to be by your side no matter how much you push. I will stand there by your side and face the enemy with you and die there with you if it comes to it. I will continue to be your friend or more if that is what you need and you'll never have to worry that I'll leave you. But I will not let you try and push me out of your life for the fear of what could possibly happen to me just because you're afraid to let yourself be happy."

Elijah's eyes never left hers as she spoke. He couldn't bring himself to look away from her. Not when he was seeing everything play through her eyes. Every emotion, every piece of history and hopeful future had been displayed within them. And he could no longer ignore what he'd been trying to avoid.

He knew everything she said was right. He would hate himself if anything happened to her while she was gone. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if he ever learned the news that something had happened to her. He couldn't ignore the fact that throughout the years and even now she was fighting for her place to stay no matter how hard he tried to keep her at bay and safe in his eyes.

The same safety that he had been trying to provide her since the night they met. How broken her eyes had looked from the moment she took a seat next to him on that mountain top. And how everything within him had told him to protect her from anything. Even himself if it ever came to it.

But as he looked into her eyes now, he could see the woman that had become his best friend. The woman that stood there beside him as threat after threat came. How she cared for him in his moments of need even though he fought her on it. The one person he couldn’t go more than a few days without speaking with. It was why the thought of losing her scared him even more than he ever believed.

After a moment, Elijah nodded his head. “I give you my word that I will not push you away or ask you to leave.” His thumb gently moved along her cheek. He watched as something changed within her eyes. “I don't believe I could actually watch you leave, let alone be alone out there in the world. Nor can I picture a day where you are not in my life in some form or another. You have your selfish reasons and I have mine. But I have never wished for you to look so hurt as you have today and I will spend as much time as needed to make up for it. ” He looked elsewhere for a moment before looking back at her. “I just don’t know how things will change from here.”

The part of Y/N’s heart that expected the worst had felt relief. Relief that he wasn’t going to continue to push her away. Relief that he was willing to accept that they were soulmates and that she wasn’t going to go down or leave without a fight. And if anything, there was a small tug of a smile at her lips at his words.

“We continue as friends, just as we have.” She offered. “If in the future things change, we’ll go from there.”

A hum of agreement passed his lips as he pulled his hand away from her. As he did, He maneuvered his hand to take a hold of her’s, finding comfort in just holding her hand within his. Her offer of nothing needing to change played in his ears.

There was something within him that agreed with that. Mixed within the agreement was the hope that things would change for the better. But for now this was a step in the right direction. A step that meant he wasn’t going to push her away as he had planned to. It was in a direction that he strongly believed he’d never lose her in the way that he feared.

“We’ll handle things as we always have.” He nodded his head, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Together?” She asked as a small hopeful smile pulled at her lips.

She could joke about how they would work together as she always had in the past. She could have added in how reckless they could be. How the calm and chaosbetween them would keep things interesting. But at that moment, she only needed the confirmation that it would continually be them against everything else that came at them.

“Together.” He promised with no intention of ever breaking that promise. Even when the world learned of the mark they share, he’d keep his promise and keep each other close to their sides. As a friend, as a potential lover, but most importantly as soulmates that would never have to live without the other.

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ddarker-dreams · 9 months

Note

Hi🌹Would you write a few Chrollo crumbs, please?

warnings for yandere themes, somewhat macabre discussions because being around chrollo makes you lose it

"If you got stabbed, would it hurt?"

"Hm? Pardon?"

"I think we've established that you don't experience pain like most people," you take a sip of your favorite specialty drink through a straw. Paper, for the turtles, naturally. Except for when it inevitably becomes soggy in ten minutes. Then the turtles have to fend for themselves, environment be damned. "I've never heard you say so much as an 'ouch'. So, I got to thinking."

Chrollo swirls his own drink — red wine, or so he claims, his paleness raises suspicion — contemplating the matter because you raised it.

"My perception of pain is still intact, it just doesn't bother me as much as it would the average person."

"That's the thing, though. Have you been stabbed?"

"You seem charmed by the idea."

"Admittedly, it is a nice idea. But, hey, no deflection," you frown. Then, you reiterate your previous inquiry, heavily emphasizing each word. "Have you been stabbed?"

"If you must know, then yes, I was stabbed once, many years ago."

"And? Did it hurt?"

"It wasn't pleasant."

"Oh, please, you don't have anything to prove here," you roll your eyes. He's got to be acting obtuse on purpose.

"My memory of it isn't the best, I was a child," he explains. There's an odd gleam to his eyes when you stiffen, like a cat waiting to pounce on an object that's been taunting it. "You're very sweet, dear, worrying like that for my younger self's sake. Don't let it distract you, finish your point."

"It's not called being sweet, it's called having basic empathy."

"I'll have to take your word on that. Go on, then. I'm curious to know where you were going with this."

"A hypothesis. Let me stab you and tell me if it hurts."

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you think you're capable of committing such an act of violence?"

"Do you think I could?"

"... In a situation that induces fight-or-flight, maybe," he muses. What a strange thing to fondly muse over. "Though, speaking from experience, you're more inclined to freeze than follow through with the other two options."

You utilize all your willpower not to say some very unkind words. "Hence the experiment. If you're so confident, then let's put it to the test."

Chrollo hums, as if actually considering your idea. "It's an interesting pitch, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. This is such a nice shirt and bloodstains are a pain to get out."

"That's the best excuse you have? Just take it off and—"

The self-satisfied expression he gives is enough to make your tongue freeze.

"And...? Oh? There's more? I like this dominant side of you, don't stop on account of me. Keep listing your demands."

Your paper straw starts crumpling over, as does your posture. "You... you ruined it. You somehow twisted a nice idea into a revolting one."

"Twisted, you say," he murmurs, a hand on his chin. "Like a knife?"

"Ugh, forget it! I don't want to think about it anymore."

#chrollo and his darling have very interesting conversations #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo brainrot #answered #Anonymous

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infinitydivine · 2 months

Text

10 things I Love about You ✨🫶🏼❤️PAC

Hello everyone, I am back again with a new PAC reading. Thank you all for loving my previous PAC, I appreciate it.

*This reading is just for entertainment purposes*

One of my favorite movies- 10 Things I Hate About You inspired me to make this PAC.

If you could, please leave feedback as comments reblogs, or Asks. It helps me to improve myself. And if you want you can tip/book reading with me because I am saving up for my further education.

Choose your pile intuitively. Take what resonates and leave the other things. If you think this reading is not for you then choose another pile. If still it doesn't resonate then this might not be your reading. There are two Piles.

***If this reading resonates with you, DM me to book a reading with me. You can pay through Paypal or you can visit my Kofi shop too.

My Paid services Thank you for your support PAC Readings Valentine Special readings Paid Reading reviews

PILE 1 PILE 2

Hello there PILE 1. Your future spouse/future Lover will love these things about you. Hope you enjoy it.

I love how you make me feel all better and new

I love your seriousness

I love your mood swings

I love how you are a clean freak (specifically someone here might have OCD)

I love how goal-oriented you are.

I love your angry stares at me.

I love how you try to hide everything from me yet cry in front of me about it.

I love how kind you are to everyone.

I love how independent you are. Even though you won't show it, I will be always here with you.

Last but not least, I love you for being you always.

🔮Song from your person- At My Worst ft. Pink Sweats

Tip box 🎁

Hello there PILE 2. Your future spouse/future Lover will love these things about you. Hope you enjoy it.

I love how cute and funny you are.

I love how you make people comfortable in your presence.

I love how classy and sassy you are.

I love how optimistic you are.

I love how you make me want to be a better person than I already am.

I love how you inspire me to grow more. (some of you may be a muse to your person's creativity projects like singing, songwriting, etc)

I love how passionate you are about your hobbies and interests.

I love how you live in the moment and make me feel less anxious about the future.

I love how confident and comfortable you are in your own skin.

Last but not least, I love you for being here with me..always and forever.

🔮Song from your person- Shadow, Song by Seventeen.

Tip box 🎁

(❁´◡`❁)(❁´◡`❁)(❁´◡`❁)(❁´◡`❁)(❁´◡`❁)(❁´◡`❁)(❁´◡`❁)(❁´◡`❁)(

Love, Infinity ♾️🫶🏼

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unbidden-yidden · 3 months

Text

An idea I've been turning over in my mind is our relationship, as humans, to the land.

This idea of owning land - it's kind of absurd, right? When you really think about it?

When we say we "own" land, what does that really mean? Do you own the dirt? The organisms in the dirt? What about the air? What about the rainfall, or any body of water situated on it? Do you start owning it when it flows onto your property and stop owning it when it flows off or evaporates from your property?

To be clear: I have studied property law. I know that there are legal answers to these questions. My point is that the answers are just as absurd as the original premise.

I am still working through the details of this, and my views are not fully formed. These are just musings, but to me, the concept of ownership (at least as it exists in the western culture I have lived my whole life in) is inherently destructive.

What does it mean, own something? It means to be able to possess and use something, however you like, whether for its intended purpose or not, whether it benefits the property or not, and to be able to destroy it without (usually) liability to another person who is not the owner. Sometimes possession and ultimate ownership are separated, such that you have a property interest in the possession or in the passive income the property generates, but not both. There are scores of different ways, actually, that you can have some limited ownership interest in some property.

But ultimately, no matter how the property interest is divided up, pretty much any legal liability one might ever have is to other owners or human stakeholders, rather than to the property itself. The best interests of the land are not really factored in anywhere.

And I think that, as a society, that's a huge problem. When we say we own land, we are conceptualizing it as "this is ours to do whatever we want with it and no one can stop us (within the boundaries of other laws)." But that doesn't reflect reality and is not sustainable in the long run.

To my mind, we should view it as, "this land you are living on? That's now your responsibility. You are now in relationship to this land and must act in the best interests of it as its steward." If anything we belong to it, not the other way around.

I don't have time to write it up now, but I think there's good support for this in the Torah, in the ways in which the covenant is described, so I may say more on that later.

#musings

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ivystoryweaver · 6 months

Text

Perfect Fit

A Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Story in 2 parts

My Masterlist

Idk, babes The muse has spoken...

Pairing: Nathan Bateman from Ex Machina x f!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You are Nathan's employee and are staying at his secluded home for experimental android purposes. Shenanigans ensue. Like - two Nathans shenanigans.

Content: MDNI, NSFW, you are responsible for your reading. (more below the cut) NATHAN BATEMAN SHOULD BE WARNING ENOUGH

Content/Warnings: sci-fi semi-horror elements, smut - pwp, oral-m and f rec., p in v, unprotected sex, voyeurism, dacryphilia, degradation AND praise, anal sex, group sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dub con related to possible gaslighting, sex with AI/androids, language, Nathan is his own warning - he's a narcissist duh, sci-fi nonsense, not beta'd, I'm a Nathan-writing virgin so enter at your own risk

I guess that's all?

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

"I have a surprise for you."

Nathan - your boss and temporary roommate, in the loosest sense of the term - breathes on your ear.

"Shit - Nathan!" You gasp, nearly slicing your thumb off with vegetable knife you're using. "You scared the shit out of me."

Whirling around, you find his nose crinkled in mischievous (evil) laughter.

So you smack him with the flat side of the knife's blade.

"Fuck, sweetheart, calm down," he admonishes, trapping your wrist in his strong grip. 'You'll like it, I promise." Thick, dark eyebrows shoot up over wire-rimmed frames. Okay, this asshole is pleased with himself. What else is new?

Maybe you should lighten up about the little jump scares he likes to do. After all, it's the only time you get a laugh out of this narcissistic genius.

Nodding your head toward the countertop full of chopped veggies, you protest. "I'm making soup."

"Come on," he decides for you, pulling the knife from your grip and laying it on the counter. Wrapping his fingers around yours, he drags you out of the kitchen.

So bossy. But hand holding is the sweetest it gets with this man.

So you follow.

In your weeks living with/working with Nathan, you've discovered two things:

Arguing with him is pointless.

His dick is big enough to match the size of his ego.

You promised yourself you would NOT engage in any physical relationship with your reclusive, genius, billionaire boss. Yeah, that lasted about three days before you climbed on top of him.

Since then, business and pleasure mix on the daily. So, wherever he is almost sweetly leading you by the hand - well, it could be work-related, but it's likely...recreational.

Wrong. It's both.

"Here we are," he announces, guiding you into one of his indoor pool areas. This particular pool resembles a lush, tropical paradise. An actual stories-high waterfall cascades down into an artificially warmed pool. White bubbles float all over the surface, foaming at the waterfall's base, and giving off a bubble bath vibe. Greenery surrounds you, along with bright, tropical flowers.

"I remember this pool. You showed it to me on the first day."

Nathan makes a face. He isn't a fan of you (or anyone) stating the obvious.

Still, something has him in a good mood. Like a better than we're-about-to-fuck-in-this-pool good mood.

"Get in," he nods, pulling off his glasses before peeling his soft white shirt over his head.

Soon enough, your slick, naked bodies bob in the water as Nathan lifts your thighs around his waist and licks his way inside your mouth.

His thick beard tickles your face, the tingling sensation a dizzying contrast to the soft caress of his lips as his tongue rolls over yours.

Suspicious that he could be this excited about a quick romp in the water, you decide to enjoy yourself. After all, just him yanking his shirt over his head created a personal waterfall between your legs.

After a salacious make-out, you let out a yelp as he pulls you by the hands through the rushing waterfall.

Cool water dumps over your head, making you squeal at the contrast to the pool's warmth. Once you emerge behind the waterfall, you see it: the cause of Nathan's...chipper mood.

Lying naked and stretched out like a Renaissance work of art, on a large, flat rock, is...Nathan.

Well, not Nathan.

Your Nathan (is he really yours?) smirks, folding his arms over his bare chest with a look of self-satisfaction like you've never seen.

The other Nathan perks up at the sight of you. His eyes instantly fall to your chest, and he wets his lips at the sight of your bare breasts - nipples pebbled from the cool waterfall.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, you notice him...getting hard.

Your Nathan is practically salivating.

"What the hell is this?" You question warily, finding it difficult to tear your eyes away from this Nathan-shaped Other with a Nathan-shaped cock.

"He likes you," Nathan nods toward The Other's erection as if it is scientific proof.

Other Nathan pushes off the rock, his muscles flexing deliciously, into the pool's warmth, half-swimming, half-walking toward you, with...intention.

You instinctively countermove to Your Nathan's side. "What is going on? What does he want?"

"What do you think he wants, sweetheart?" he murmurs lowly against your neck. A shiver zips down your body, straight between your legs.

"He...it's...he's like..."

"Fucking hate it when you stutter," Nathan groans. "You know what he is. You know what's about to happen." Boldly reaching for you, he cups your cunt, swiping his fingertips through your slick folds, his teeth teasing your earlobe. "You want it to happen."

"Nathan, I ..." You gasp out as he rams two fingers inside you, pushing the pad of his thumb roughly over your clit.

The warm water heightens every sensation.

"You'll like him," Nathan assures you, roughly plunging his digits in and out of you as The Other stands directly in front of you. Dark, hungry eyes meet yours before traveling down the curves of your body to watch the Creator finger you.

The Other wets his lips again, reaching to wrap his fist around his cock.

"Oh fuck," you gasp, grinding your hips down on Your Nathan's hand as The Other strokes himself vigorously.

As infuriating as it is to admit, Your Nathan is right. This is doing it for you.

"Look at you, already moaning for us like a whore." As Nathan speaks, his teeth nip at the flesh behind your ear.

Then, without warning, he jerks his fingers out of you, causing you to cry out in frustration and surprise, your body stumbling forward into The Other Nathan...

...who grips your arms, steadying you, his straining erection prodding your abdomen.

"Give me a turn. I won't stop," The Other speaks in exactly Nathan's voice. The sound of it - the feel of his heavy cock against your skin mildly terrifies you - yet you find yourself responding eagerly as he surges forward to kiss you.

You feel Your Nathan's hand on your shoulder, jerking you back. "No fucking kissing." He glares at The Other warningly.

Your head whips around to your boss/fling, your eyes going wide at his one and only, ever display of possession over you.

"Nathan, what - "

"Come here," he interrupts, guiding you to the rock where you found The Other lying a few minutes ago. Your Nathan pulls you back against his broad, muscular chest, running his hands all over you, as if claiming you. The two of you lean against the rock, your bottom halves submerged in the warm, frothy pool.

His hands cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as his thumbs rub circles over your nipples. You keen and arch into his touch.

"Eat her out," he commands The Other...who nods once in response and stalks toward you determinedly.

"Wait, Nathan, how can - we're underwater - " Before you can finish your question, The Other eases below the pool's surface, nearly disappearing beneath the bubbles.

A second of silence follows and then you feel his mouth on your cunt.

"He can breathe underwater," Your Nathan almost purrs on your ear, working your breasts seductively while grinding his own erection between your ass cheeks.

"Mmmnnn...fuck," you moan as The Other's lips latch onto your clit, sucking underfuckingwater. His thick beard is always driving you wild and his lookalike is no different.

"You want him to stop, just say the word," Nathan offered. "But I told you - you'll like it."

Your hips involuntarily buck against The Other's mouth, which pulls growl of satisfaction from Your Nathan.

"Use him, babydoll, he can take it," he instructs, thrusting harder against you. "He's your toy. My gift to you. Play with him."

You could swear The Other Nathan smiles against your pussy before plunging his tongue inside you.

"Oh shit...oh my god..." your incoherent moaning makes Your Nathan chuckle in satisfaction. "What a good slut for us. Knew you would spread your legs so fast. Gonna fuck you until our cum is dripping out of every hole you've got, honey."

Nathan reaches for your thighs which he helps you hoist over The Other's shoulders. Taking your hand, Nathan guides you to grip the back of its neck.

"Fuck him, honey. Take what you want. Then I'll slip into that tight ass until you cry for me."

That nearly sends you right over the edge. Your hips buck wildly, sloshing water everywhere as you fuck yourself on The Other's tongue, hands pushing his shaved head against your aching center, yanking him against you with your legs - heels digging into the flesh of his back.

Nathan isn't kidding around. As soon as you start writhing, he pushes your cheeks apart and eases the tip of his cock into your tight hole.

Thankfully, you've done this before, many times, but the sting is still there - the stretch of it - as Nathan works his thick cock into you slowly.

You still your rocking, which seems to infuriate The Other, still underwater. He jerks at your hips to pull you forward, but Nathan is still pushing into your ass.

A slight tug-of-war ensues - but the water soothes and slows things down just enough so that- moments later, you have one Nathan in your ass, breathing on your neck, whispering filthy things in your ear, hands wrapped around your tits. And The Other Nathan underwater, slurping and licking and sucking - worshipping your cunt.

Your body arches violently as you come, your moans embarrassingly loud.

"That's it, honey, squeeze my cock so tight," Nathan grunts right on your ear.

You're still coming down from your high as The Other emerges from the water, eyeing you hungrily. Your Nathan is still inside you, pumping slowly.

"Look at his cock," Nathan instructs. "Do you know how much work it took to replicate this dick for you? Do you see what I made for you?"

"Y-yes," you stammer, admiring the creation before you, still heady and euphoric.

"Good. He's gonna fuck you now, babydoll. We both are. That alright?"

The thought of two huge dicks inside of you sends a bolt of nervous anticipation through you, but Nathan is filling you so good. You don't want to stop.

"Use him," Nathan repeats his command, even as The Other reaches for the swell of your hips. Staring into your eyes, he bends his knees slightly, reaching for his stiff length and sliding the tip through your folds.

Without any more fanfare, he pushes deep inside you and you scream at the intrusion. It's too fucking much - two of Nathan. Two cocks so thick - so fucking heavy, thrusting inside you, using you like a doll.

They set a rhythm, back and forth, over and over, a little faster with each thrust, hands roaming, fondling, caressing your wet skin. The press of two sculpted bodies caging you in already has you close again. Your next orgasm hits you like lightning, your body seizing in mind-altering pleasure as the two men inside you push and plunge harder and faster.

Your Nathan comes with a strangled cry, filling your tight hole with his spend, fascinated by the sight of another him fucking you so good.

Nathan is Nathan's favorite person, so watching himself rail you is the ultimate high. And this surpasses the many other times he's watched himself fuck his androids played back on a screen.

Easing out of your tight hole, he takes a step back in the water, admiring his handiwork.

He's a goddamn genius.

With Your Nathan no longer behind you, The Other pauses just long enough to lay you down on the rock and hoist your legs up around his waist. He leans over you, palms flat on the rock - one arm on either side of your head - and smiles down at you wolfishly.

He winks. "Let's give him a show. Let him see I'm your perfect fit."

Your eyes dart over to Your Nathan for some sort of sign of disapproval, but The Other grips your jaw. "Look at me."

If Nathan hears The Other, he ignores it, seeming content to have come in your ass, and now, to watch a version of himself lay you down and pound his seed into your cunt.

You go a little hazy as your eyes once again find Your Nathan's, holding his gaze while his creation snaps his hips hard and fucks into you faster than Nathan has ever managed.

Nathan is onto something here, because the fact that he is watching pulls moans as loud as the waterfall from your throat. Your body twists and arches violently, giving him quite the display.

"What a good whore," The Other mocks, "fucking yourself on a toy. Because that's all I am, right?" He glares at his maker and comes during this act of defiance.

You're too fucked out to keep up with the conversation at the moment, but Your Nathan darkly chuckles. "Shit," he whistles. "I'm so fucking brilliant, I even gave you my ego."

Then he turns to you. "You alright babydoll?"

You let out a breathless laugh, attempting, but failing to drag yourself up off the rock. Apparently, they are done with you for now

"Pick her up," Nathan instructs The Other, turning to climb out of the pool.

Wait, is he just leaving you to the machine? Asshole.

The Other Nathan complies, offering his hand to help you up. You take it, easing off the rock and back into the water, stumbling into his chest.

"You okay?" It asks you in a hushed whisper, grasping your elbows to steady you.

You assure him you are fine. Taking your hand, The Other leads you back the way you came, through the waterfall, but just before you dunk your heads under the cool rushing water, he pulls you into his arms and stares deeply into your eyes. Then brushes his mouth over yours.

Your Nathan has already passed through the waterfall and left the room for all you know. Still, he'll see this. He always sees everything. It’s a condition of you living here.

Feeling a slight resistance from you, The Other Nathan releases you. "You like kissing," he states, as if discussing data and not pleasure.

"What?" You question, your chest heaving with desire and confusion.

"Don't make me repeat myself." One dark eyebrow shoots up condescendingly. How very Nathan. "He doesn't kiss you as much as you want. I know - all the footage is stored in my memory." He taps one finger to his forehead with that know-it-all Nathan smirk. "He doesn't kiss you enough, but I will. I'll kiss you anytime. Will you kiss me back?"

You're stupefied.

It takes you a moment, but then you remember. Nathan said The Other was for you. Nathan said 'use him.'

Why the hell not?

"I'll kiss you back," you shrug, barely finishing your sentence before The Other pulls you against his chest, melding his lips with yours. He samples each lip before licking his way inside, his hands already sliding down over the swell of your ass to hook under your thighs.

Before you can even think, he pushes his cock inside you again, which is unrealistically hard already, his knees bending just a little as the two of you ease further down into the warm water.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you decide to enjoy this present from Nathan - this Nathan shaped fuck machine. Feels kind of wrong, but fucking hell does his cock feel real plunging in and out of your cunt underwater.

"He told me I would like being alive," The Other whispers, running his hands up the curve of your back to grip your shoulders and pull you down harder into his vigorous thrusts.

"He was right. I do," he rambles on, fucking up into you faster now.

The familiar heat pools in your belly as he fills you so good. So like Nathan. Only...sweeter? Or are they the same?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

"This is what I was made for," he pants against your lips, the rhythm between you making literal waves in the pool. He kisses you again and your back arches in bliss, your cunt squeezing him until he fills you up again.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nathan watches on the monitor as his doppelgänger kisses you and brings you to orgasm number three beneath the waterfall. The sound of your moans lets him know how thoroughly he's succeeded. And The Other isn't wrong. You like to be kissed.

Nathan types out some notes before heading to the kitchen to finish dinner.

"Have fun?" He asks you once you find him in the kitchen. You took a shower (alone) before finding your boss.

Best to be honest with Nathan - he knows everything anyway.

"He's amazing," you answer simply. "Unbelievable, really."

Nathan smirks, setting down the knife he found you with earlier. Without another word, he pulls you close and kisses you breathless.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Life with two Nathans is something else.

The next several days of work are centered around this new android.

That's where you find yourself now - in your bedroom with your shiny new toy. And Nathan.

"Sit down," Your Nathan tells The Other, nodding toward the bed. the three of you are naked, as usual, but the boys seem to be in a bit of a mood today.

They're both hard and ready to fuck you too.

"On your knees, babydoll," Nathan beckons you. You comply, dropping down in front of him, knowing exactly what he wants.

Dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel like his priority instead of his damn other self.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as Nathan grips your chin. "Such a pretty mouth," he murmurs, squeezing your cheeks together which forces your lips open.

He pushes the tip of his cock inside, shuddering at the absolute heaven that is your velvety mouth. You swirl your tongue along the slit, tasting him before tracing the ridge. Wrapping your lips around him, you hum against his skin, sucking on his tip, giving him a tease before he pushes his way to the back of your throat.

You gag for a moment, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you swallow the tip of him, laving your tongue along the underside of his shaft.

"So good, honey, just like that."

The Other Nathan grunts out a disapproving sound. Unlike your Nathan, he doesn't seem to be enjoying your mouth stuffed full of his Creator.

Which makes Your Nathan enjoy this even more. He grips your head, thrusting into your mouth like you're a toy. You gag as a drool dribbles from the corners of your mouth. You normally love being used by him, but he's not enjoying you for you at this point. And it's not even about getting his dick wet.

You tap his thigh forcefully, letting him know you need a breather. Normally you like to take what he gives, but is the goal to make an android feel jealousy? You’re distracted by the confusion and you want to enjoy this too.

"What? What is it?" Nathan pulls out of your mouth, his eyes darkening in concern. "You okay?"

Just when you think that maybe you mean nothing to him, he pulls this. He always does. 'You okay?' Those two words and his beautiful brown eyes are your weaknesses.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

You awaken in the night to feel lips hot and wet on your neck and his thick, hard cock pressed against your ass. Someone's hungry. The question is: who?

You've been having so much sex, you can hardly keep track anymore. Truthfully, you start to wonder if you are the personal fuck toy. You spend your days naked and cockdrunk, their spend leaking out of your holes, rug burns on your knees and a sore jaw, and so many back-to-back orgasms, you start to wonder if this some twisted version of heaven.

"Nathan..." you murmur, almost instinctually pushing back against him, grinding into his erection. "'m sleepy."

"I know, honey," he purrs on your ear, sliding one hand across your abdomen as you lay side-by-side. "All you have to do is lie there."

You groan. "Are you Nate or Nathan?"

Nate is the name of The Other. Your Nathan didn't want him to have a different name - ego wouldn’t allow it - but 'Other Nathan' got old fast.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He teases, pushing his fingertips down between your legs.

Okay, that felt good, but you asked a question.

"Fuck off," you whined, shrugging him off with your shoulder. "Don't touch me unless you tell me who you are."

But he grips you tighter. Right then, red emergency beams dimly light the room, indicating a power outage.

"Listen fast," he urgently whispers on your ear, his hand reaching to cover your mouth. "You can't trust him. You have no idea what he's done. What he's going to do. He can't hear us while the power's out. Tell me you understand."

"Mmmphh!" You struggle to speak, writhing to get away from whoever this is.

"Be still!" He hisses. You feel his biceps flex against your arms as he squeezes you, halting your movement. "We don't have time. You can't trust him. Do you- "

Suddenly, the red emergency lights switch off and power is restored. You had been sleeping, so the room is still mostly dark, but whoever was speaking to you says nothing more. He simply climbs out of bed and stalks out of the room, completely naked.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

From there, things only get stranger. You begin to wonder if this whole Nate experiment is Nathan's attempt to gaslight you into...well, you're not sure what.

What could he possibly hope to accomplish by confusing you?

The answer should be pretty obvious: Nathan likes playing God.

Or is it Nate messing with your mind?

If the object of this experiment is: can Nathan's AI truly pass as a human being? Then he has probably succeeded.

You're between them now, lying on your side, in bed, one of them in each of your tight holes, thrusting in tandem, back and forth. The stretch of two heavy cocks filling you up has you whimpering and biting one of their shoulders, while the other one sucks bruises into your neck.

The sweaty press of skin against skin - your slick arousal creaming his cock, while the other one stretches your tight hole so good you cry for them, just like Your Nathan promised you would.

"Such a good girl, taking both our cocks, crying so pretty for us," the one facing you says, swiping the puddle of tears spilling down your cheeks. His other hand slips between the press of your bodies to strum at your oversensitive clit.

You sob, completely wrung out, but desperate for another release. As his fingertips trace a lazy pattern where you crave it most, your sob devolves into a low moan.

"Nothing but a desperate whore," the one behind you jeers, nipping a little too hard at your ear. "Too cockdrunk to tell who's stretching out your tight hole right now. Gonna fill you up, honey. And when I'm done, I'll fuck my cum right back into you."

The guttural moan that rips out of your lungs surprises even you as your back arches, your body seizing in yet another earth-shattering climax.

They're not done with you. Not yet.

You're too full - too fucked out to figure out who comes first. All you know is that an eternity passes, you've come so many times that your every nerve ending is on fire, only in the best way. And cum is dripping from both your holes.

One of them stalks out of the room, glasses on, cock soft and totally nude.

The other gathers you into his strong arms and carries you to the bathroom. He wraps you in a plush robe while running you a warm bath in the garden tub.

"I'll give you some space," Nathan declares, stripping you out of the robe once the tub is filled with lavender scented water and luxurious bubbles. He takes your hand and helps you step into the tub. "That was a workout," he winks. "You hungry?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded. Your Nathan? You felt so certain he stalked out of the room and Nate carried you to the tub.

"Nathan?" You whisper, your voice cracking - hoarse after crying and moaning so loudly and for so long.

"That's my name," he groans, truly hating obvious questions. "Nate's gotta charge up. You wore him out."

He is too damn pleased with himself to be Nate. Right?

You sink down into the bubbles, feeling a little better somehow.

The he asks the question.

"You okay, honey?" And those gorgeous brown eyes find yours.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

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#oscar isaac characters #nathan bateman #nathan bateman smut #nathan bateman x f!reader #ex machina #read the warnings #perfect fit fic

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hopelessromantic5 · 1 month

Text

I’m in a silly goofy mood. Here’s some merthur crack.

Nimueh is seeking her revenge on Merlin for thwarting her plans.

She sneaks into Camelot, disguised to be hidden among strangers. But to Merlin, she will appear as what his heart most desires.

Thinking it would be a beautiful woman, she lies in wait, until the manservant stumbles upon her and his eyes bug.

“Arthur, what are you doing here?! Uther will have my head if you aren’t in the-“ The manservant stops rambling and stares at Nimueh.

Nimueh, of course, is shocked. This is a plot twist.

The boy still hadn’t looked away from her eyes. Searching for something and coming up short.

“You are not Arthur.” He breathes out.

And before Nimueh can think to act on her ancient sorceress instincts, Merlin has her paralyzed and face up in a turnip cart, covered with potato sacks.

Well this is going splendidly, she thinks to herself, as she rolls to an unknown location.

Not only is the manservant desperately in love with his master, but he’s also got his wits about him enough to know the real thing when he sees it.

At this thought, she pauses. This boy must be someone. He has power and knowing that she’s never seen in a person so young. So mortal.

Eventually the cart stops and she’s tumbling out onto the floor of a very dusty apothecary.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” An older gentleman’s voice comes closer.

“Gaius, look at this and tell me what you see.”

The older man appears in sight, peering at her with a permanent quizzical brow.

“Looks nothing more than a kitchen maid. What is the meaning of this, Merlin? What have you done to the poor girl?”

“Wait, you’re telling me you’re seeing a kitchen maid and not the Prince of Camelot?”

“The Prince of-“ The old man looks to the boy “Have you injured your head today, Merlin?”

“No, Gaius. That’s what I’m telling you. When I came into the court yard after just leaving Arthur with his father, I can promise you I did not expect to see Arthur again, leaning against a wall, suddenly craving a tan.” The boy, Merlin, stares and keeps staring. “I think she’s a witch, or a sorceress.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, the fact that she looks like one person to me and another to everyone else. And…I can feel it. She must be powerful, I can feel the current of energy underneath.”

The old man, ponders for a long minute.

“Do you remember the creature in the water supply? The Afanc?”

Merlin nodded.

“I told you I believed it to be the work of an ancient sorceress names Nimueh.” The woman internally gasps at her own name. “I also feared she had been keeping an eye on her attempts to destroy the Kingdom. It seems now, she knows you are responsible for her plan not taking hold.”

“You mean she did the on purpose? Came here, in broad daylight, to come after me? Dressed as the Prince of Camelot?”

He sounds hysterical. Perhaps it’s affecting his psyche. This image she’s in now.

“That part is strange.” Gaius muses still staring down at her body like it will tell them more. “You said it looked like Arthur in the court yard, how did you know it wasn’t him?”

“I don’t know.” A lie. A terrible lie, followed by his face turning bright red. She could almost laugh at the foolishness of young humans. “I just…did.”

There’s no reply for minutes.

Then Merlin speaks again.

“I say while she’s paralyzed and without her power, we dose her with a truth serum and find out what she’s doing here.”

‘Without her power’? Excuse you?

She’s only now beginning to feel it. Her magic is still there, in her core, but it’s been locked away. Covered in layers and layers of blankets. Blocked by someone else’s will. Someone with more power than they know.

Now she’s really in for it. If only she could learn to let things go.

“And what are we supposed to do if the real Arthur comes looking for you?” Gaius turns in question.

“Just tell him I’m at the tavern, he’ll never make an appearance there if he doesn’t have to.”

“What are you going to do with her when her powers do return?”

“I will wheel her into the forrest tonight. The spell should last us well past morning light.” This time, Merlin speaks to her. “I’m hoping at that point you’ll just go home and rethink your decision on murdering everyone here and destroying the kingdom.”

Then she’s in a chair, tied down with belts. They forced a tiny tube of liquid down her throat. Or more like poured it in, considering she can’t fight back.

And then they sat back on their stools, six feet away, and studied her.

“Speak.” Merlin commands, followed by a flash of golden eyes. Nimueh was beginning to understand that she didn’t have the upper hand here. Not in the slightest. Her centuries of learning are almost nothing against this boy with the magic of the earth inside him.

“That was disgusting.” Are the first words out of her mouth.

“Well it’s not supposed to be a treat.” Merlin spits. “Why are you here?”

The words come out before she can scramble for control to stop them.

“I’m here to switch a goblet in the chambers of Lord Bayard for the cursed chalice in my possession.”

“For what purpose?” Gaius demands.

“To poison the Prince. To start a war that would tear Camelot and her crown to tiny pieces.”

“Explain your appearance. Why isn’t anyone else seeing Arthur?”

“You were correct, Merlin. You were my target. The enchantment transforms me into the deepest desire of your heart. To everyone else, I was nobody, a peasant they wouldn’t waste the time to look over twice.”

The silence in the room after is deafening.

Merlin is staring at her with wide owl eyes, utterly horrified.

Gaius is looking at Merlin, perplexed.

“What- what’d- I don’t-“ comes out in a string of syllables. “That can’t possibly be.” He whimpers and then buried his head in his hands.

Poor boy.

Love is a miserable beast.

#merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur fic #crack fic #from the drafts #Nimueh is lowkey impressed #and pitying

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frithdom · 6 months

Text

When did Astarion catch feelings?

This is a question I've been mulling over for a while and I have some thoughts. (Disclaimer: These are my own musings and are in no way a definitive answer. People can choose the answer that best fits them.) I was mulling over the scene with Astarion in Act 2 where he explains his initial intentions in seducing Tav/Durge and how his "nice simple plan" fell apart when he fell for the main character. Then I thought "Well... when exactly did things change for him?" It's not so obvious to differentiate his manipulations from his genuine feelings by that point. Then, I remembered his second proposition. The one that cuts to black. I started ruminating over why he asked for a second time and what his motivations might have been. After all, I'm not sure that he needed to sleep with Tav/Durge again for his purposes. He could have held out and dangled sex over them like piece of string to tease a cat with. He didn't have to put out. Baring in mind this is a man who hasn't slept with a lover more than once in over 200 years. I think he did it instinctively, but it was during this second experience that he realised it felt different both times. He even says during the conversation in Act 2 that yes, it felt different with Tav/Durge and that was part of the issue. The issue being that he'd done what he'd always done before... manipulated the player into having sex with him. He'd betrayed them and he'd done it because it was easy. I can just imagine the little seedlings of doubt sprouting after the first time, only to fully blossom after the second. I can imagine Astarion laying on his back after the encounter, staring up at the sky and thinking "Shit." It did feel different this time because this time he feels guilt. Guilt was probably a feeling he compartmentalized and gave up on a long time ago. Probably right after the time he was tortured and locked away for a year after letting a victim escape. And then him finally coming to the conclusion he feels guilty because he genuinely cares for Tav/Durge. The act of sex with them wasn't triggering because of the sex, but because he'd manipulated them into it. He'd not propositioned them with good intentions and that hits him like a stake to the heart because if anyone deserved sincerity, it was them. All this to say, I like to think Astarion realised his true feelings for the player during their second sexual encounter, but it takes him a while to come to terms with he fact that his first instinct was the manipulate this wonderful person he adores so much.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #tav x astarion #durge x astarion #just some thoughts I had today #not sure if this even makes sense in writing but I don't have the energy to proof read lol

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fatesundress · 8 months

Text

⭑ sunlight parallel pseudostars. tom riddle x reader

summary. your reunion is long overdue for the small thing it should be, sacred for the dingy place it finds you, and most consequentially, entirely on purpose.

tags. gn afab reader, part one of an inevitable part two but this one is just pining because nonny asked so nicely, yes there is fluff but it's a tom pov, so... i do what i can, post-hogwarts, mutual pining (but emphatically, arduously, overwhelmingly tom), tom and reader were hopeless fools in school who never confessed their feelings for each other, legilimency/occlumency training as flirting, reader definitely filter searches the slow burn tag, self-cockblocking, i can't tell if this is ooc even by my own delusional standards, hopeful 'ending' as an apology for my last tom fic, please accept this humble offering

note. finished my first request!! who knew i could do it! i apologize first and foremost for my inactivity and i want to say WOAHHH thank you so much for 400! i'm hoping to make up for my absence by turning this into either a two-parter or a longer mini-series. i did actually forcibly refrain from ending this in smut because i want to try my hand at a slightly slower-burn since my usual preference is like... at least 100k words of longing stares before they even hold hands. i'm trying my best.

word count. 4.9k

There’s something, at least, in the far table at the right side of the bar, that makes the process a tad less dull. It’s somehow quieter here than his flat over Knockturn, sparse with a few old wizards with beards caught in the froth of their cups, Tom’s bend of the pub warm from the fire, crackling with kindling and the scratch of his quill, drizzled in moonlight tealish enough to remind him of the Slytherin common room when little else does nowadays. Something — yes. A tolerable reprieve. The sort of monotony he likes.

As opposed to Caractacus Burke’s constant, doltish solicitations; Tom ponders when the day will come that the man strikes a deal so dumb it lights the tip of someone’s wand green and kills him. It doesn’t drive Tom to any immense grief to consider. On particularly tedious days, he staves off boredom by imagining doing it himself.

But this reprieve can only serve him so well. Tom doesn’t drink — certainly not the dreck they serve here, though he doubts even the finest of wines could tempt him to obfuscate his better senses — doesn’t dance, doesn’t take anyone home even on the rare occasion there’s someone in this pub of bearable taste (except the one time, and that was more a case study than a surrender to gratification). Essentially, he sits at his table and steals the heat and the barkeeps are wise enough to let him.

He’s mused over the exact verbiage of this tome for days. Alchemical equations are the one thing that still occasionally stump him, and Tom is eager to rectify that.

He puts quill to parchment. It bleeds when he comes up short of words. He holds infinitesimally tighter, and the ink spreads like tendrils imagined in the dark; the sort of amorphous shapes that appear on the ceiling when all the lights have gone out. He stares. He lets the shapes form, but finds nothing informative in them, and so sets his quill down and watches leaves fall from the chestnut tree splitting open the sidewalk outside.

Cold air wafts in when the door groans open. There’s the click of dress shoes and a murmur at the bar, followed by a tumbler shaking and a glass being poured.

“Oh, no — er — that one always sits alone,” he hears the barkeep say to the dress shoes.

Tom refrains from turning his head.

“Doesn’t like to be bothered,” he adds, dress shoes skidded to a halt.

A pause. A sense of eyes on him Tom elects to ignore.

“I know.”

There’s a smile in that voice. He remembers it. The teeth of it, the lips, the tongue that sometimes darts between them.

It must be very late.

He’ll look up and realise there are things other than wine that can addle a person. Too many books, not enough books, not enough sleep, a day gone by without a single spell cast, an itch for control, wanting and not having, and,

you, after all this time.

The lattermost two have for a long time been the same.

Your hair is different than it was before, your figure presented in the rarity of your own clothes when he’s so accustomed to your school robes, but it would be rather bizarre if you ever wore those again. You’re too modern for muggle and magical alike — trousers and a formal shirt, hair somewhere between kempt and wind-blown, the aforementioned nice shoes Scourgified to a squeaky black as you come closer. (You’re coming closer. What a revelation.) A drink floats beside you, your fingers undulating softly to maintain the charm.

“You,” he says, like he doesn’t remember.

You grin. “Me. Sharp as ever, Tom. You look it too.”

The nebulous shape of acumen returns to him and it’s disarming enough to be disarmed — on principle it should not be occurring — but you also should not be here.

He stands. You present your hand as if practised for the proper convention of having it taken, October-cold gloves soft when his lips press to one and he wonders if the skin beneath is softer, or if callouses mar the mounts of your palm. He lingers as the thought does. (What are you up to now? Are you tried by new labours like he is; your knuckles hard from the work? Would they feel voltaic to touch as they once did?)

“Sit, please.”

Increments of re-introduction tie him to the tangible instead of unfurling from the knots of why you’re here or how you’re here, which cannot possibly be tethered to reality because for all the hours he’s been with you, none in the last three years have happened awake.

There are the dark shapes on his ceiling again. The scraps won’t last. He’ll need to know the details.

You’ll want to tell.

You take a seat in the chair he pushes out for you, glass sinking onto the table where the condensation immediately shades a ring into the wood. “This wasn’t where I’d expected to find you, you know.”

“No?” Tom asks, returning to his seat, “I wasn’t expecting you to find me anywhere, so the surprise is mutual.”

“I’d have written to warn you, but it was easier to find the places you frequent than the one you live in — wouldn’t know how to get my owl to you directly, you know — and I’m sure that’s not an accident.”

“I feel strangely as though I’m being accused of something.”

“Mm. Your guilty conscience.”

He smiles reflexively. Old habits. “I’m sure.”

You smile too, at least. “You know, when we left school, I gave it — what — two years before you were the youngest Minister of Magic in British history?”

“Then I’ve disappointed you.”

“No, I think I knew you well enough once to know even now that the fact that you aren’t only means you have something better in mind. I’ll have to trust your judgement, because I can’t imagine what that could possibly be.” You take a sip of your drink, twirling your straw as you do. “Come to think of it, though, brooding over a book in an establishment you patronise enough to have all the workers trained to leave you alone despite not even knowing your name is… very Tom.”

“That one appears to have done a poor job,” he says with a glance at the barkeep. “You’re over here disrupting me. I think I’ll rescind my tip.”

“Still funny, too.”

“Still indecorous.”

“Still saying things like indecorous. You’d better tip, Riddle.”

“Be good company and I might.”

“Oh, I see. I need to prove that I’m a worthy disruption.”

“I was reading a very good book.”

The book was rubbish. His moleskin has roughly four lines of notes jotted on its open page, which he closes promptly, and hopes it doesn’t seem done with too much gravity. Your eyes like to wander, he recalls. Your hands, absentmindedly, too.

Torturous creature you are.

“I missed you,” you say, like you’ve never had the good sense of holding your tongue, or armouring your heart, or not feeding an animal without first seeing the size of its teeth.

You are so withholding with your work, and so generous with yourself. He wishes you wouldn’t offer him so much. He’s never had the kindness not to take everything you let him.

“You missed me,” he prompts, already asking for more.

“I missed disrupting you. No one else lets me — or calls me indecorous, and still lets me.”

“You were quite studious, in case you’ve forgotten. More literate than disruptive.”

You raise a brow. “My, I’ve never had a man call me literate before, and I’ve been courted plenty. I’m swooning.”

(Note: you’ve been courted plenty?)

“Inventive, then? Erudite?”

“Do go on.”

“I shouldn’t. I believe you were describing the manner in which you missed me.”

“It was just the one, unfortunately.”

“Why did you find me?”

This generates pause, at least, and that intrigues him.

Addendum: “Why now?”

“I was around,” you decide on, “and I haven’t been in a long time.”

You wanted to continue your studies after Hogwarts. He thinks he remembers that conversation; academics were the topic of most of your discussions, after all. Anything deeper was incidental, crumbs scraped off a plate at the end of a meal.

“Where did you go?”

You drink again. “Portugal, after school. But that was — it’s a bit of a story. I ended up at an academy in Iceland doing a few very boring, ultimately useless courses on spell creation and wandlore. Will you be horrible if I tell you I’m here because I left in the middle of term? Because then I didn’t tell you.”

“I suppose I knew you well enough once to know even now you wouldn’t have left unless you had something better in mind.”

You beam at him, and he acknowledges briefly that it feels like a reward the same way solving a problem does.

“I found you —” (You are far too generous; the question was already answered and here you are offering more) — “because I considered everyone I wanted to see again and you were the first person I thought of. I don’t like to deny myself the little things.”

“No,” he says, “you don’t.”

Rain trickles down the window, and the cool dark of autumn obscures half of your face. He wishes it didn’t, and that’s bizarre.

“I’ll be doing a course in Occlumency in Norway in the new year.”

Oh?

“I know you were always quite good at Legilimency, so don’t start,” you add hastily.

He itches not to smile. It is truth and not arrogance to say that quite good is an understatement.

“I didn’t know you had an interest.”

You scoff. “Please, everyone has an interest. It’s just hopeless for most of us, and painful to be hopeful to learn something so hopeless.”

“Well-put. A terrible ego punch for you, I’m sure.”

“It was. Until I tried Occlumency and realised I’m quite good at that, and then the wound closed a bit.”

“Glad to hear it. You’re honing the skill?”

“Slowly but surely.”

“And — you’re here seeking a teacher?”

“Oh, stop. I told you why I’m here. But if you’re — oh!” You frown suddenly. “Didn’t you say that you were going to apply for DADA after graduation?”

Ah, that. “Denied, unfortunately.”

“Seriously? On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that I’m too young.”

That and the matter of Albus Dumbledore and the air that is ceaselessly wasted on his breath.

“Oh, please; half the staff are over eighty, I imagine it might be nice to have a professor who doesn’t forget to grade their assignments every other week. You were Head Boy! That’s completely mad.”

“You’ll have to write an owl.”

“I could.” And you sigh, and stir your half-empty drink of what must be less than ten percent alcohol and ninety percent spice and apple. “Would you… would you mind, though? If your schedule isn’t terribly busy?”

“Teaching you?”

“Helping me with something I’m already good at,” you correct, “as an excuse for me not to go back to a very frilly muggle hotel by myself after coming all this way to find you.”

He echoes the part of that sentence that matters least — your invitation is all that counts, but he has no wish to make that obvious when you’ve always done this, always tugged on a string you seem unaware even exists. “Frilly muggle hotel?”

“What? I used to go to them when I was on holiday. Didn’t I tell you that?”

No. He would have clung onto it if you had. He didn’t even know you had the money for things like that after two wars, but then maybe that was something new. How would you have attained it while in school, though? An untimely familial demise? A wealthy suitor? You wore no ring. You came back to him.

Illegible signs for him to attempt to read.

“Well?” you ask, pulling two sickles from your pocket and leaving them on the table.

His answer is yes, naturally.

It’s absurd you even feel the need to ask; your reunion is long overdue for the small thing it should be, because of the small thing you were, sacred for the dingy place it finds you, and most consequentially, entirely on purpose. You didn’t stumble upon each other in the aisles of a shop after years gone by, pressured into empty conversation for the courtesy of it. You missed him, so you found him — and Tom thinks he’s been missed before, in some vague sense by some people blurred long ago by unimportance, but — found? He reconciles not finding you himself by assuring he will make something of this.

“For a worthy distraction,” he says, putting down two sickles to match.

You grin, and he takes your arm again as you thank the barkeep and depart into the slow drizzle of the street.

You tell him of Ponte de Lima and the rootless craters of Myvatn, of old cathedral spires and covens masked as monasteries. You detail the scenery like you detailed your essays in school, and it makes the ennui of London marginally better — that you are walking it with him, talking about beautiful things, in a night dark enough he might not notice the usual absence of them here.

And then, as you step onto busier streets, you say you missed this too, and he is jealous beyond sense of the architectural blemish of Piccadilly Circus.

He glances away from you and the invisible path to your hotel for the first time since issuing Wizarding London for Muggle.

It’s a crowded tableau. The post-war square is spangled with flashbulb advertisements and buskers and skinny double buses orbiting Eros atop his fountain. People skip from hotel bars and teahouses in trench coats and long skirts. Someone outside the Trocadero looks dressed for burlesque. Storefront letters hiccup light through power abscesses and imminent bursts, and the lights… The lights herald cigarettes and chewing gum and Coca Cola and performances at the theatres on Coventry Street.

You light up with them, sunlight parallel pseudostars. Tom feels half-blinded. He isn’t sure by which.

“You missed London?” he asks. It’s hard to hide in his tone how much he cannot imagine a reason why. All of the things you described in your travels sound better than this.

“I missed home.”

He possesses only a theoretical understanding of what that must feel like. The word itself is a thing long gone. There was Hogwarts, but it was never his.

“Well — I miss this,” you amend, “which I never remembered being like this, and maybe it wasn’t. All I saw in anything growing up was shelter. I’d look at buildings and imagine which ones could survive bombs, and which ones would shatter under gunfire. Since coming back, I’ve liked seeing it a different way. The lights, the people — The Criterion; they’ve a section called the Witches Cauldron, which is very risqué. You would hate it.”

His mouth twitches at the corners. “Risqué?"

“Mhm. Women with skirts over the thighs, men with skirts over the thighs, music with questionable lyrics, and really, borderline indecent comedy. But I think that's the heart of muggle theatre — the good kind, anyway."

“So I was right in calling you indecorous.”

“Hardly. I’m an observer.”

“Upstanding, then.”

You tug playfully at his sleeve. “Saintly.”

“You might revisit those churches in Portugal.”

“And you might learn to let something go. We’re here.”

He looks up at the little dais of steps before the big arch of your hotel door, stones cracked here and there, cigarette stubs smushed at his feet, and back at you, an inviting smile on your face.

“Come on.” You take his arm again and guide him in.

The lobby is all dark wood carved like lace. Fretwork in the moulding, fretwork at the counters, fretwork in the thick columns bolstering the mezzanine; and there, tables with seats turned to face the sound of music, the dulcet flicker of candlelight over plates of food that smell sweet for the hour. As you lead him up the stairs, he gives you a look that warns this was not what he was promised, but you shush him and he abides.

You are lucky for his intrigue. You are lucky for the dullness of his teeth at the maw of his hunger. He doesn’t pretend to understand — he thinks he likes not understanding.

The music gets louder. He can see the entire mezzanine from the top of the stairs; a woman is singing, a man is playing saxophone, the tables are set for dessert, and the plates are almost all licked clean.

You’re watching with the flicker of candles caught in your eyes now, grip imperceptibly tighter on his arm as you lean in to whisper. “There’s something new every night. Yesterday there was the most beautiful pianist. And they served this lemon pudding — tonight I think it’s… torte? It’s chocolate, at least. It smells amazing.”

“Did you want to stay?”

He did not. It was a courtesy question.

“Just for a song?” you ask, rather more sheepish than suits you.

Just for a song, then.

You press against his shoulder. You’re warm, despite the cold walk.

“Do you ever practise on them?" he asks.

“Legilimency?” You shake your head. “I usually refrain from digging into the thoughts of innocent muggles.”

He raises a brow. “And the bad muggles?"

“I should like to do worse to the bad muggles."

He smiles. You smile too, though you resist it for a moment. “You're as wretched as you were in school."

“Wretched, was I? And what would I have found, if I'd sought out your thoughts back then?"

You laugh, face canted toward the performance. “Thoughts of Os on every O.W.L, what Slughorn meant by a semi-formal dress code, how to get into the kitchens at night..." You turn to him again. “And you? Do I dare ask what I would have found in yours?"

“Hm. Secrets.”

“Damn you.”

The saxophone swells before the last note fizzles out, the contralto timbre of the woman’s voice washed out by a small round of applause. You clap with the other guests, glance over at Tom, frown, take his hands and force them together. He doesn’t resist, but he certainly doesn’t aid the motion. His hands are instead idly patted together, palms hitting the sleeves of his coat and making for a very poor ovation.

You give up without much effort, fingers looping beneath one of his cuffs to lead him back to the staircase.

“Wretched,” you repeat.

You search your coat pocket for your key as you walk up the stairs, remarking the artwork on the walls and evidence of a drunk muggle man who spilled champagne on his way to bed last night — you tell him to watch his step, and he averts the side of the stairs where dark spots pepper the carpet. The place is fine elsewise. You mentioned the risqué of The Criterion and he can see notes of it here, in the late night music and the drinking and a few ogling men among the guests, but it’s nicer on the inside than he’d assumed by the exterior, and you can certainly handle yourself amongst debauchees without wands.

Tom stops when you do. Your room is the furthest at the end of the third floor corridor.

“Welcome,” you say, as the key clicks and the door swings open.

A frilly muggle hotel indeed. You flick a switch and the chandelier ignites, dim but extravagant. You go to light a few additional candles at the dresser and windowsill, clipping floral drapes aside as you do. The bed, a queen, matches the fabric of the drapes, with a thick lace skirt and golden brass rails. There’s a small table and two chairs, plush with cushions that loop through the spine and knot like hair ribbons. You tuck your wand away after the room has been brightened and fix him with a look that says, I told you.

“It’s clean,” is all the opinion he offers.

“Hard to make a mess in two days.”

A rather uncharacteristic thought crosses him. He can imagine ways which would not be so difficult.

“Of course.”

“Did you want anything? I could call for room service. Wine? Chocolate torte?”

“I’m more curious to observe your Occlumency firsthand.”

“Right. I’ve been depriving you.” You sit on the edge of the bed and slip off your coat. “I meant what I said, though; I’m good at it.”

“A battle of wills, then.” And he pulls a chair from the little table by the window, sitting it across from you.

You make a face. “This is why I studied with you and never challenged you to anything.”

“Perhaps you should have.”

“Perhaps… I might have saved myself from the predicament I’m in now.”

“You brought me here.”

“I did.”

“You enjoy the predicament,” he guesses.

You smile. “I do.”

He leans in with his arms at the wooden rests of his chair, fixed on the space between your eyes and then the apples of your cheeks, looking for new scars or freckles or stray eyelashes to cast wishes on. Mostly he wonders what’s underneath. That you have presented him the opportunity, even to wonder, feels almost like a wish granted. And Tom is not the sort of man to make them.

But here you are, and the room is quiet, and your gloves sound soft rolling off your fingers, and he should take a chance on one now. He should be greedy. He should want for more.

“Shall I count to three?”

He does. He does want more.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you say, and he can see you steel yourself before his soft surge into your mind.

Your resistance is like a cliffside. His effort is a wave, lapping at the rocks, seeking erosion. It’ll come. It never hasn’t.

You stay there in the cracks between the rocks, not pushing against him as much as shielding yourself from him. He leans an inch further from his chair and inclines his head. Your mouth falls open, breath caught on the sharp edge of his next intrusion. He eases forward but you only hold stronger. An impasse is reached — immovable object and unstoppable force.

Tom’s mouth curves at the corners, patient, persistent and proud. The chase is half of it. Your capability is the other.

“How did you discover your gift?" he asks.

“Don't distract me," you answer, and the softness tells him it’s an exertion for you to speak through this.

Tom nods, though distraction suddenly seems a tempting venture. If he pushes otherwise it will be painful.

For a while he just searches — between the old moss atop the cliff, the space where water strikes and memories propagate in verdant clusters, little runnels in the stone to keep little thoughts. He can see the outlines of those moments you’d described to him on your walk, but nothing deeper, nothing untouched. The abacus on either side of a Portuguese church but no hint of the nave or the apse. The flat horizon of Myvatn lake but none of the pseudocraters.

And still the walls stand, and the wave trickles through the runnels only to feed the moss.

You’re good. He wants to break you. He wants to be gentle. He wants to know if there is a way to do both.

Yes, he thinks there is.

Tom inches his chair closer. There’s perhaps an arm's length between your knees and his, and your expression flickers as you glance at the way it shrinks. A forearm, now. A ruler. Nothing at all, if you look long enough, think about how easy it would be for the space to vanish altogether. And he is thinking about it.

Your eyes dart back to his and he glides through the first crevice of your confusion he can find. A second’s glimpse is all he gets — words on an image of the skin unclad at his wrists, like words on the storefronts of Piccadilly Circus, they spell his name. There’s the cadence of a question. He resists the urge to sink back in his seat in honest pride; that the first thought he’s carved out of you is of his hands and sudden curiosity.

Perfectly innocuous, he rolls his sleeves to his elbows. There’s a quick twitch at your mouth.

“Do you know,” he says, searching again, “there’s something in particular I want to find.”

You indulge him carefully. You must anticipate a trick. “What’s that?”

“The moment you first missed me.”

It is a hard thing to be reminded of a moment and not draw it immediately to the surface. He can see on your face that you have to push the misbehaved thing down with force. But that’s only evidence that it exists, that it’s true, and he must see it like it’s his own.

Is your missing him not his, in some way? Is his missing you not yours?

“I wonder if you missed me over quill and parchment,” he says, “in old libraries, at a café in Paris… Did you remember me by certain colours? By times of day? Or was it —”

There.

It’s the Athenaeum of Madrid, under the ceiling of the assembly hall. You’re craning your neck to admire the art, and you’re thinking how much he would have liked a place like that.

And then he’s back in the frilly hotel, and your face is in something like a gasp. You’ve swallowed it down, batted him away, but he can see it even from the outside; the curiosity is still there despite. The question unposed but sitting neatly on your tongue ready to be asked.

Tom smiles. “I didn’t know you went to Spain.”

“Well, I thought I might leave something for you to learn instead of be told.”

“Ah, so you let me in?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Will you?”

You glance involuntarily at the gap between you. Has it shrunk again? He can note the details of the face he’s missed without trying.

“Will you let me in?” he murmurs.

“I don’t think they teach this method of distraction at school,” you say softly, and now the words have been put in the air.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He shifts his chair ever closer. His eyes go to your lips. And he does mean to look away but your mouth quirks the slightest degree upward and he stays there a moment because he was expecting something else.

“Didn’t I tell you I’ve been courted before?”

“Plenty,” he recounts.

You lean in. Your knees brush his. You incline your head so your eyes find the path of his, the smile on your face finally full. It’s an error of time that he doesn’t expect it because it must not be an error on his part. “Then you should know to make a greater effort.”

You hold a hand to his cheek, watching the motion as your warm fingers trail from jaw to white collar. And then you pull back; a breeze in the place you sat when you get up.

“That’s enough for today, don’t you think?”

He recovers quickly, but there’s a lingering heat at his jaw and a curiosity he was faulted to have planted himself — he’s suffering the barest satiation for the million more questions he has. But you missed him, and you invited him here, and you wanted to see him in your mind, so he must wonder if you meant to plant some curiosity too.

“And tomorrow?” he finally asks.

There’s rummaging in one of the cupboards, the twist of cap from its tube, and the quick rush of the faucet before your face peers out from the bathroom’s thick archway, still with that smile.

You flick the light on and brush your teeth like he isn’t there. For whatever reason it’s the most disarming thing you may have ever done, and it reminds him that he had considered you torturous like it was something incidental, which means he’d begun the night with only one equation still able to stump him, and ended it with two.

He could sooner solve alchemy (the entire subject) than this.

“I’ll be out,” you say when you’re done, “but you’re welcome to join me.”

“And what might I be joining you in?”

“Tourism.”

“Tourism?” He inches out of his chair, rolling his sleeves back down.

You lean against the bathroom archway and the candlelight makes a sculpture of you. Your silhouette is a blaze tenderly burning the dark.

“It only feels right after years of doing it in other places, don’t you think? Every street I discover something I didn’t notice before.”

Tom looks at the toothbrush fitted in your hand like an unlit cigarette and imagines putting it back like he’d stomp one out, kissing you and tasting apple and cinnamon and mint stuck on the corner of your pretty mouth.

“Well? Is it below you?”

“Yes. What time?”

“Eleven,” you say, and your breath hitches beautifully at your bare collar when he glides into the archway beside you. “Is that all right?”

He brushes the dab of toothpaste away from your lip. “It’s perfect.”

Your eyes flit down his face, and now it’s him smiling.

He places a kiss on the back of your hand, looking up at you through dark lashes and a smirk as he mutters your name, a soft remembrance, a rekindled wanting. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Tom.”

The noise outside his flat that night is trivial. He has not for a long time sat awake at night watching the sky instead of the shapes on his ceiling. He has not for a long time thought of you with the tranquil knowledge that he will see you again.

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

Text

Silent Heir, Hidden Danger - 5

Character: Lawyer!Bucky x Female Character

Summary: She suddenly inherits a fortune from an unknown father, navigating dark secrets with lawyer Bucky Barnes in a suspenseful journey of deception.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

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As the shadows of secrecy enveloped Y/N and Bucky in their hidden refuge, the dim light accentuated the growing bond between them. Seated across from each other, the air carried an unspoken understanding, an alliance forged in the crucible of danger.

With a thoughtful gaze, Y/N finally voiced the question that lingered in the quiet moments. "Bucky, I need to understand. Why were you so loyal to Max? What did he do for you?"

Bucky, his expression a mix of contemplation and memories, leaned back against the concealed walls. "I was a stray dog, Y/N. Max found me in the lowest point of my life, hungry and desperate. He gave me a purpose, a sense of belonging."

Y/N, intrigued, urged him to share more. "What do you mean, a stray dog?"

Bucky's eyes held a distant gaze as he recounted his past. "I was living on the streets, scraping by to survive. Max saw something in me, or maybe he just saw a reflection of his own past. He took me in, trained me, made me his guard dog."

A sense of vulnerability crossed Bucky's features as he continued, "He used to say, 'A dog shouldn't bite the person who gives him food.' Max was the one who fed me when I had nothing. Loyalty was the least I could offer in return."

Y/N, absorbing the weight of his revelation, murmured, "So, loyalty to Max became your way of life."

Bucky nodded, the echoes of the past resonating in his words. "In the world he lived in, loyalty meant survival. Max had enemies, and he needed someone he could trust completely. In return, he provided me with a purpose, a family of sorts."

Curiosity lingered in Y/N's eyes as she sought to unravel the mysteries surrounding her father's elusive presence in her life. "Bucky," she inquired, "why did Max never try to meet us, or at least reach out to my mother? It sounds like he cared, so why keep such a distance?"

Bucky, choosing his words carefully, began to unravel the complex tapestry of Max's multiple lives. "Y/N, Max had three wives, each with their own circumstances. The first wife, Mallory, is the scariest of them all. She's from a powerful mafia family herself, and she's paranoid and jealous. Her obsession with Max is both a strength and a threat."

Y/N, eyebrows furrowed, sought further clarification. "Jealous? Obsessed? What do you mean?"

Bucky leaned in, his gaze holding a weight of caution. "Mallory sees Max as her possession. She's deeply in love with him, but that love is possessive and dangerous. If she found out about you and your mother, she would see you both as a threat. Max was protecting you from her influence."

Y/N, absorbing the gravity of Mallory's influence, mused, "So, it wasn't just about Max keeping secrets. It was about protecting us from someone dangerous."

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Now, the second wife, Madeline, is a different kind of danger. She's calculating, like a snake in the grass. Madeline knows how to navigate the intricacies of the underworld. If she knew about you, she might see it as an opportunity or a threat, depending on her calculations."

The room seemed to tighten with the invisible threads of danger as Bucky continued, "Then there's the third wife, Marianne. Her situation is similar to your mother's. She doesn't know Max is involved in the mob. She's stuck in a life she doesn't fully understand. Max kept his world compartmentalized to protect them from the harsh realities he faced."

Y/N, grappling with the revelations, murmured, "So, my mother and I were shielded from a world that could have consumed us."

Acknowledging the weight of Max's choices, Bucky responded, "Max believed he was doing what was best for you both. The danger from Mallory alone was enough to warrant such secrecy."

Bucky's gaze flickered to his watch, a tangible reminder of the ticking clock counting down to Max's funeral. "We have 32 hours before the funeral," he stated, the urgency palpable in his voice.

Y/N, her eyes reflecting a mixture of uncertainty and determination, questioned him, "Do you really want to replace Max, Bucky? It seems like a dangerous position to be in."

Bucky, his expression a blend of respect and a hint of a wry smile, replied, "I respect Max's wishes, and besides, there's something else. I love money, Y/N. Money is my anchor in a world that's often unpredictable and unforgiving. Max understood that about me."

As Y/N absorbed his candid admission, she couldn't help but wonder about the intricacies of loyalty and ambition entwined in the unfolding events. "So, you're willing to step into a role that could bring danger and power just for the sake of money?"

Bucky's eyes showed determination as he affirmed, "Max had his reasons for choosing me, and I intend to honor that trust. Plus, in our world, power and danger often come hand in hand. It's a gamble, but one I'm willing to take."

As Y/N contemplated the implications of Bucky potentially becoming the leader, she voiced her concerns, "If you become the leader, can you ensure the safety of my mother and me, Bucky?"

Bucky, with a confident yet reassuring demeanor, replied, "Sure, Y/N. I can make sure all your demons are taken care of. Max's legacy will provide a shield for both of you."

However, before the weight of their conversation could fully settle, the room was violently interrupted by a deafening explosion, the force of it reverberating through the hidden refuge. "BOOM!"

Instinctively, Y/N sought refuge behind Bucky, her eyes wide with shock and fear. The once secure vault door now lay in ruins, the remnants of the protective barrier shattered.

As the dust settled, the silhouette of a figure emerged from the chaos. Bucky, recognizing the intruder, muttered under his breath, "Mason. Should've guessed."

Mason, flanked by a menacing entourage, strode into the room with an air of calculated authority. The outnumbered Bucky, still shielding Y/N, assessed the dire situation unfolding before him.

Mason's voice cut through the tension, a cold smirk playing on his lips, "Well, well, Bucky. Seems like you're not as untouchable as you thought. I knew this hidden fortress would be your refuge."

Bucky, his gaze unwavering, retorted, "What do you want, Mason?"

Mason's eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity as he declared, "I want what's rightfully ours. The inheritance. And, of course, the throne that comes with it."

The room hung heavy with tension as Bucky found himself forcefully restrained on the ground, guns pressed menacingly against his temple.

Y/N, too, was ensnared by Mason's henchmen, her struggles futile against their unyielding grip. Mason, wearing a sinister smirk, approached her, lifting her chin with a cruel grip.

"So, you're the one Father's been hiding? None of your face resembles him," Mason sneered, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N, defiant despite the dire circumstances, retorted, "You won't get away with this. My mother and I have nothing to do with your twisted games."

Mason's response was swift and brutal. With a grit of his teeth, he delivered a resounding slap across Y/N's face, the force of it sending her reeling. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious, as the room echoed with the sickening sound of impact.

Bucky, though physically overpowered, seethed with anger. "She's weaker than you, you son of a bitch," he spat, the venom in his voice cutting through the air.

Mason, seemingly unfazed, shrugged his shoulders with a sinister grin. "That's why this will be quick."

Bucky, undeterred, shot back with a defiant glare, "You think this changes anything? You won't control what Max built."

Mason, reveling in his moment of triumph, gestured to his lackeys. "Tie them up. We'll take them with us."

The air inside the confined space of the car crackled with tension as Bucky, now confined beside Mason, shot him a defiant glare. Y/N, unconscious and vulnerable, was being transported in a separate vehicle, her fate hanging in the balance. Mason, still seething with anger over Bucky's perceived betrayal, couldn't resist taunting him.

"You betrayed us, Bucky. You were family, and you turned your back," Mason hissed through gritted teeth.

Bucky, undeterred, retorted, "Maybe I got tired of being your errand boy. Fetching and carrying for the likes of you."

Mason's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't forget, you could've had it all. You could've joined this family. But you chose this path."

As the convoy of cars navigated the dimly lit streets, tension escalated. Suddenly, the driver of Mason's car furrowed his brow, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. The vehicle behind them swerved erratically, causing concern.

"What the heck?" the driver muttered, trying to maintain control.

Mason, sensing trouble, leaned forward. "What's going on back there?" he barked into the radio, but there was no response.

Bucky seized the opportunity to issue a warning. "If something happens to her, I will make you pay, Mason."

Mason, unimpressed, shot back, "Why? You got a soft spot for her."

Chaos erupted as the second car in the convoy crashed violently, prompting Mason to order a halt. The group descended from the vehicles, with Bucky remaining inside.

As they approached the wreckage to investigate, a sudden gunshot pierced the air, and one of Mason's men fell with a bullet through his forehead.

"What the fuck?" echoed through the tense night air as confusion and panic gripped the scene. The crashed car's door swung open, revealing a transformed Y/N—no longer the weak woman Mason had seen earlier.

Her demeanor had shifted; she exuded a cold, murderous aura, and Mason couldn't shake the feeling of killer intent emanating from her. Her gaze mirrored Max's, sending a chill down Mason's spine.

Mason, still processing the shocking transformation, barked orders to his men, "Shoot her!"

Before the guards could react, they were taken down by precise shots. Bucky, witnessing the chaos unfold through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but exclaim, "What the heck?"

Y/N, seemingly unaffected by the mayhem, punched Mason in the stomach, causing him to crumple to the ground. With an eerie calmness, she lifted him effortlessly and deposited him into the damaged car. Without sparing a glance at Bucky, she took the driver's seat.

"Y/N?" Bucky questioned, but she remained stoic as if inhabited by a different entity. This Y/N differed from the one who fainted from Mason's slap.

In truth, Y/N harbored multiple personalities. The normal Y/N, empathetic and fearful, coexisted with a darker alter ego.

This alternate persona was cold, formidable, and shared the same lethal intent as Max.

Dark Y/N, her demeanor still cold and unwavering, adjusted the rearview mirror with calculated precision before starting the engine.

Still grappling with the surreal situation, Bucky couldn't help but voice his confusion, "What the hell just happened, Y/N? Are you... alright?"

The dark Y/N remained silent, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. It was as if the events that transpired moments ago had no impact on her. Bucky sensed a palpable shift in her energy, a stark departure from the scared woman he had seen mere minutes ago.

Bucky couldn't shake off the chilling feeling that enveloped him. Dark Y/N's side-eye, reminiscent of Max's calculating gaze, sent shivers down his spine.

Dark Y/N finally spoke, her voice void of the warmth that characterized the usual Y/N. "Your old Y/N is asleep. Now, show me the way to the funeral."

The transformation was jarring, leaving Bucky to realize that the woman before him was more complex and enigmatic than he had ever imagined.

As they drove in silence, Bucky grappled with the realization that Y/N, the person he thought he knew, harbored a dormant alter ego capable of such ruthlessness. The atmosphere inside the car was tense, and Bucky couldn't help but wonder about the consequences of this unexpected alliance.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

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#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #buckybarnes #james bucky barnes #lawyer!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Text

YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN, KID — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n spent her high school years changing herself to become what she thought was Jack’s type, but when they meet again a few years later, she learns that she never needed to change in order for him to like her.

warnings: eating disorder mentioned and lightly described, weed mention/use, alcohol mention/use, light profanity, changing yourself for a guy (yes, that is a warning), this is mostly angst.

notes: one of my most relatable Taylor songs to my favorite guy <3 this was proofread but if you see anything insensitive, please let me know so i can change it. for timeline purposes, i should mention that i wrote this with a summer birthday in mind for y/n.

important: THIS FIC IS NOT ROMANTICIZING ED’S. if you’re struggling with an ED, please know that you can message me any time! i understand the pain and frustration and i will always be there to help in any way possible.

14 YEARS OLD

it was in my freshman year of high school that i noticed i was a bit different than other girls my age. with them having middle school relationships under their belt, and most being in sports rather than chorus like me. i didn’t really think much of it, as boys played no part in my life besides as defacto muses for my songs. but i still felt out of place.

16 YEARS OLD

it was in the summer before my junior year that i met Jack Hughes. a USNTDP hockey player and my first official crush. my family had rented a lake house and the Hughes’ ended up being our neighbors for the summer. My parents quickly befriended Ellen and Jim, and when they realized they had children the same age, all four of them tried for weeks to get Jack and i to hang out. but to no avail, because i was shutting myself in my room for some quiet writing time, and Jack was always busy with his brothers. but when i had slipped away from my parents to go for an evening swim one night, apparently Jack had the same idea. we saw each other at the lake and got to talking, becoming friends pretty quickly after that. it was 2 weeks into the friendship that i realized he made me feel things that my other guy friends didn’t.

when we split up at the end of the summer, we promised to text, but a couple weeks later i was pleasantly surprised when i was called into the school office to show him around. with pretty similar schedules, we were seeing each other in school quite a bit, and from that our friendship only grew. i sat with him and his friends at lunch, he would pick me up for school on the mornings that my car wouldn’t start, and he would even walk me to my classes sometimes.

but because of that, my feelings grew too. i did a full one-eighty, changing my entire personality. i stopped spending my weekends at home, instead opting to attend parties, just in hopes of seeing Jack there. and i found any excuse to talk to him, for even just a minute.

i’m sitting in my room, struggling with my math homework when my phone starts ringing. i peel my eyes away from the worksheet to glance over at it, and my heart flutters when i see Jack’s name, his picture lighting up the screen. i quickly press the answer button, holding the phone up to my ear.

“hey” i say.

“hey! you texted saying you have a question?” his voice is raspy, words coming out slow and slightly slurred, and i can hear Trevor, Alex, and Cole talking in the background. he’s smoking weed.

“uh, yeah. i had a question about the Algebra 2 homework, but i can just ask you tomorrow when you’re in a better state of mind.” i laugh.

“how’d you know?” i can hear his grin through the phone, and it makes me smile.

“call it best friend’s intuition. i’ll let you get back to the guys.” i tell him. we say our goodbyes and i hang up, taking another second to stare at my phone with a goofy smile before i turn back to my math homework.

during the school year, i listened to him talk about each girl he was seeing throughout the year. each of them pretty, skinny, and blonde. and eventually, i wondered if he would like me as more than his annoying best friend, if i looked like those girls. so i would stare in my mirror for hours some nights, pinpointing things i should change about myself. as like most teenage girls, i had always been insecure, wishing to change myself. but now i learned to use Jack as an excuse for it. and from there, things started developing.

i begged my mom for weeks to let me dye my hair, and when she finally caved, i went to the salon and went blonde. but my hair wasn’t the only thing that changed. my eating habits were altered. slowly at first, just cutting out certain foods, and then all at once. i started skipping meals, excusing myself from dinner by saying i had a large lunch, leaving the house quickly in order to avoid breakfast, and only eating at lunch when Jack expressed concern about my lack of food. like now.

“good afternoon, hockey knuckleheads. your favorite person has arrived.” i announce my arrival at the lunch table while dropping my book bag by my seat, interrupting the boys current conversation. they all look at me, quickly saying their hello’s.

“y/n, you’d give me an autograph, right?” Trevor asks, and my face pinches in confusion.

“uh, what?” i ask.

“like, if you knew you were gonna be famous one day. you’d give me an autograph right now, right?” he clarifies.

“ignore him.” Jack laughs, pushing Trevor’s face away from he and i. he turns back to look at me, eyeing the empty tabletop in front of me. his smile drops and he turns to his backpack, pulling out a protein bar. he throws it over on the table in front of me, it landing with a smack, making me flinch.

“eat.” he tells me. my eyes bounce between the snack and him, studying his serious expression.

“i’m fine, Jack. i ate a big breakfast this morning, so i’m not hungry. keep this for when you need it at practice.” i tell him, sliding the snack back towards him. but of course my stomach speaks volumes, deciding right then to grumble loudly. Jack raises an eyebrow at me and slides the bar back over to me. i sigh, opening it up and taking a bite. he smiles at the sight, and it makes my heart skip a beat.

“good girl.”

17 YEARS OLD

it’s the end of senior year now, and i’ve gotten no closer to dating Jack than i was before. i’ve spent countless nights alone in my room, writing songs about him and crying over snapchat stories of him with other girls.

it’s another friday night, and that means another party in hopes of Jack seeing me dressed up. this time, my own party. with my parents out of town for the weekend, i took the chance to throw a party, inviting what felt like my entire grade in a mass text.

i walk around the house, my blonde hair curled and in a half-up-half-down do. i’m decked out in a tight fit black mini dress with black ballet flats to match, and i did a full glam makeup look. i scan the living room for Jack, but when i finally find him, i immediately feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes.

he’s sat on the couch, a pretty blonde draped across his lap, whispering in his ear as he nods, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her steady, and a grin on his face. our friends were sat around him, some having their own discussions, and some singing along to the music playing on the surround sound speakers.

i go to spin back around, fully planning on going upstairs to my room for a quick cry, but before i can fully turn, i lock eyes with Jack. he raises his hand in a wave and beckons me over and i offer a weak smile in return. i look around the party once more and feel something snap inside of me.

i feel so stupid. i’ve spent the last almost two years of my life changing myself to try and get his attention and to have him look at me in a new light. spent almost two years overanalyzing his every move and i let my final two years of high school slip by me. instead of living in the moment and enjoying my rapidly declining time with my friends, i was wondering if Jack had seen my snapchat story, or if he did then why didn’t he slide up? amongst various other things to do with him.

i was done revolving my entire life and every decision i make around a guy who obviously doesn’t like me the way i like him.

21 YEARS OLD

it’s been four years since i started living for myself. in that time, i went to a treatment center for my eating disorder, graduated college, moved to New Jersey for a new job, and made new friends. i haven’t talked to Jack in three of those years. not because i didn’t want to, but because after high school, our friendship fizzled out. he went on to play in the NHL, and i went to college. we both lived busy lives, and it became too much to handle. i still talk to the other guys, Trevor the most, but not nearly as much as i used to.

now i’m sat in a club. it’s a saturday night, and my friend Yaz wanted to go do her favorite hobby. seeing how many men she can get to buy her free drinks. currently, she’s chatting up a cute brunette with an accent out on the dance floor, and i’m sat by myself at the bar. drinking an almost gone shirley temple and wondering why i agreed to go out when i would much rather be snuggled on my couch with a blanket and a movie. i’m debating telling Yaz that i’m gonna leave, when a guy sidles up next to me, taking the seat on my right and throwing me a smile.

“hi, i’m Dawson.” he holds his hand out and i slip mine in it, shaking.

“hi, i’m y/n.” he nods before turning back to a table of guys.

“IT’S HER!” he yells over, and my brows furrow, face pinching in confusion. he turns back to me and smiles again. “sorry. my friend said he thought he knew you, but he didn’t wanna come over and then be wrong.”

it’s at that moment that a shadow encases us, and i glance over my shoulder to see the one person i wasn’t expecting.

“hey!” Jack takes a seat on Dawson’s abandoned chair. i didn’t even notice he had slipped away. “it’s been so long!”

i blink a few times, just taking in the man in front of me. he looks good. like, really good. i wasn’t naive enough to think that the love i held for him had been snuffed out, i’m just comfortable with myself enough now, that i know that changing myself for him won’t do anything except hurt me.

“hey.” i breathe out. “wow. uh, i wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“yeah, i wasn’t really expecting to see you either. what are you doing in New Jersey?” he asks. okay, it’s not like i’m stupid. i knew Jack lived in New Jersey. i just also know it’s a big state and the possibility of us running into each other was slim. but apparently the universe likes to laugh in my face.

“i live here.” i tell him. “i moved here a few months ago, for a job.”

“and you didn’t call me? i thought we were friends!” he jokes, and i stiffen at the word. friends. yeah, that’s all we’ve ever been. “can we go somewhere? to talk?”

i nod and he leads me out of the club. i send a quick text to Yaz that i went outside for a few minutes, and she responds with a thumbs up emoji. Jack and i stop outside the entrance. the club stopped letting people in about half an hour ago, so there’s no line, just us and a bouncer standing about fifteen feet away at the entrance.

“well, you look good! you went back to your natural hair color, i like it. it suits you better than the blonde.” Jack starts off, and his words strike a nerve in my heart. he didn’t like me blonde? i knew it didn’t change anything with how he felt about me, but i didn’t know he disliked it in general.

“you look healthier too. that makes me really happy, y/n. my mom told me a couple years ago that your mom said you got treatment for your…disorder. i’m really proud of you.” my heart breaks a little more at his soft tone, he seems genuine. “i saw you earlier, with your friend. you have the spark in your eye back. i’m really glad you seem happy again. i’m just sorry i didn’t do anything before, to help you with anything you were going through. i was a naive kid, i just thought you’d come to me if you were struggling. but looking back, i realize that i should’ve reached out to help you regardless.”

“Jack, you shouldn’t blame yourself. you were a kid. i was a kid too, i didn’t understand the full extent of what i was doing.” i tell him. tears prick at my eyes and i blink them away.

“can i ask you a question?” he asks.

“of course.” i nod.

“why did you do it? was there a reason? i mean, at the time, it felt like you completely just changed overnight. but maybe it was a gradual thing and i just didn’t realize it back then.” i lose hope in keeping my tears at bay, letting one roll freely down my cheek. “you don’t have to tell me. obviously. it’s your business. i just- i’ve been wondering.”

i take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to explain.

“i was a naive kid, Jack. i liked a guy and i thought if i changed myself, maybe he would like me too. but it didn’t work, and instead i realized that i was just harming myself by not eating, doing things i hated, going to parties just to try and get his attention. looking back at it now, it was stupid. but back then, it seemed like the best idea i had ever had.”

“you did all that for a guy?” he asks. but his tone isn’t the usual one i get from people when i tell them about my past. it’s not incredulous, or judgmental, or even pitiful. he just sounds, sad. i just nod my head. “well, whoever he was, he wasn’t worth it. if a guy doesn’t like you for you, then he’s an idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you. i’m really glad you see that now. although, i wish you would’ve known it before.”

if only he knew.

“switching the topic.” i say, and he lets out a small breathy chuckle. “how have you been?”

“i’ve been good. just, trying not to get injured on ice, ya know?” i nod along.

“oh yeah, i remember. i still don’t understand why you would put yourself through that barbaric game.” i joke and he laughs. the sound causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach, and it almost feels no time has gone by at all. i still feel like a lovesick teenager.

before either of us can speak again, my drunk friend stumbles out of the club, an arm looped through Dawson’s.

“hey, i thought i’d bring this one back to you. she kinda seems like she might need to sober up some.” Dawson tells me, and i thank him. Yaz lays her head on my shoulder, and Dawson says his goodbye to me and Yaz before slipping back inside.

“who’s this?” Yaz stage whispers, studying Jack who still stands in front of me. Jack and i laugh at her drunken attempt at being quiet.

“this is Jack.” i tell her. “Jack this is my friend, Yaz.”

“Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack.” Yaz repeats, and it’s like i can see the gears turning in her head. “that name sounds so familiar. Jack.”

“hey, wait! isn’t that the name of that guy you told me about? the one you were madly in love with in high school?” she blurts out, and my eyes turn as wide as saucers. i can feel my face heating up. i turn to look at my friend, who apparently has absolutely no filter when she’s had too much to drink. before any of us can say another word, a blue car pulls up and Yaz’s sister, Cara, steps out. “Yay! my ride!”

Yaz stumbles over to her, only stopping to turn and blow me a kiss before letting her sister help her in the car. Cara throws me a smile and a goodnight before getting in herself and driving away. leaving only me and the guy Yaz just exposed my love for.

i turn back to Jack, finding him wide eyed and repeatedly blinking. i open my mouth, but nothing comes out. i’m not sure what to say. but apparently Jack does.

“it was me?” he asks, pointing to his chest. “i was the guy?”

i feel like i might be sick. i never meant for him to know. i thought i would take that secret to my grave. i manage a weak nod, not able to physically speak.

“why- i mean- why did you think you had to do those things to yourself, y/n? i- i’m just— i’m so confused.”

“you had a type.” i shrug. “you dated all these girls, in high school. and they all had the same things in common. blonde, skinny, pretty, outgoing. you liked all those girls romantically so i thought maybe if i was more like them, you would like me like that too.”

“but i did like you like that!” he exclaims. i furrow my brows and my nose scrunches in confusion.

“what?” i whisper.

“i did like you romantically! i just thought i never had a chance with you. so, i busied myself with other girls. why do you think none of them ever lasted long?” he asks.

“i don’t know, i never really thought about that.” my head swarms with all this new information.

“because, they weren’t you.” he pleads. “i tried to forget those feelings for you by dating other girls, girls that before i met you, were my type. but they weren’t you. none of them were you.”

he steps forward, taking my face in his hands.

“i can’t believe you thought you had to change for me. fuck, i’m so stupid. i should’ve just told you i liked you when i first realized my feelings.” he breathes out.

“you can tell me now if you want?” i offer meekly, my head spinning. i want to kiss him. i’ve waited almost six years for this moment, and dear god i want to kiss him. now quite possibly more than ever.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispers. “i’ve loved you since the summer we were sixteen and you tried to push me off the dock into the lake, and i pulled you in with me. i still remember when you popped back up in front of me in the water. my first thought was ‘she’s so beautiful.’”

i inhale a shaky breath before tilting my head up to cover his lips with mine. kissing him with desperation and need. need to not waste another second that i could spend being with him. Jack is frozen for a second before his lips start moving against mine. his hands trail down my body to grip my hips, pulling me towards him. we fit together like a puzzle piece. my own hands grip the hair at the nape of his neck. we pull away from each other, and i look into his eyes.

“i love you too.” i whisper. “if that wasn’t obvious yet.”

“yeah? i don’t know, i think you might need to show me again.” he smirks and leans back down capturing my lips in a kiss once more.

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #midnights fic list #faithlynn’s writings <3 #babydollmarauders #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nj devils #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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