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arachniee · 3 months

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࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 ii. He once was mine.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim!reader (main couple)

(side couple) Adam x Seraphim!reader ┈➤

જ⁀➴ Summary : After he fell from grace, you did your best to move on. Drowning yourself in knowledge, hoping that if you continued to fill your mind with information, you’d eventually forget about him. All the effort you put into it was useless in the end and everything came crumbling down after you met his daughter.

જ⁀➴ Warnings: cussing, mentions of wounds and injuries, not proofread; there might be grammatical errors, mc is a workaholic insomniac

જ⁀➴ Note: Alright, so here’s part two. Not what you expected? Well, this series has more parts than you think and I’m determined to make each one surprisingly focus on something different from what you’d expect. The second part of ‘medical haywire’ is still in progress and heavy editing but it’s on its way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this lol, word count: roughly around 6.7-6.8k part one

╰┈➤ The current situation was… surprising, to say the least. As you sat still, frozen on your chair, your eyes were glued to the young blonde lady. As much as you wanted to look away, as much as the gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of your stomach urged you to shift your gaze, you went against it. It was overwhelmingly ironic. You tried almost everything to forget him, and all it took was one look at his daughter for all those efforts to be wasted. Would you have admitted it? That the reason you couldn’t look away was because she looked almost identical to her father? The hair, the eyes, the smile, the aura, it was all just as you remembered. Was it Deja Vu? Or was it because you never really wanted to forget him?

The second you felt a pang in your chest, you tried to regain composure. The walls felt like they were closing in, the world was spiraling endlessly in your mind. With a quick, sharp breath, you finally tore your gaze from the young lady and turned to face your fellow Seraphim. She was quite confused with the situation, feeling lost as she doesn’t really know what to do since this type of thing hasn’t happened before (at least to her). Once she felt your eyes on her, she tried to speak, wanting to somehow do something to help ease the tense atmosphere.

“A-Alright! So I know that you’re really busy,”

Emily stuttered, taking a step closer to Charlie and gesturing to the princess’s injured hand. Of course, out of instinct, once your gaze fell back onto her, well, on her hand at least, she let out a smile that seemed as tense as the atmosphere. Vaggie noticed this, putting a hand on her lover’s shoulder to try and calm her down, just as how she always did.

“But our dear guest has an injury and we wanted to see if you could check it out!”

The young Seraphim finished, sending you a bright smile as she clasped her hands together. Even at her words, your eyes stayed on the princess's slightly bloodied hand. Her palm was red, red with her blood. I guess that it served as a reminder that her father was no longer an angel with blood that shined gold. Instead, the blood that flowed in his veins was a shade crimson. One a demon would be too familiar with. You let out a small and quiet sigh, leaning back on your chair and bending down slightly to reach one of your table’s drawers.

Once you told them to seat Charlie on the couch on the left part of the room, the three rushed to follow your words. Your voice sounded so beautiful, melodic even. The blonde girl swore that she could fall asleep if you ever sang her a lullaby, wait, what was she even thinking? With the med-kit in your hold, you waited for them to finally settle down. You watched as Emily tried to put a pillow behind the princess to make her ‘more’ comfortable, the other frantically insisting that she’s comfortable enough. The interaction was quite the source of entertainment, you thought. Then again, you’ve been working non-stop, maybe not having access to entertainment slightly altered your standards.

Vaggie tried her best to stay quiet the whole time, hoping to not attract any attention, especially from you. She had a feeling that you recognized her, since she was one of the angels who you monitored for the extermination. She’d always do her best to maintain her health, wanting to be in the best condition to do her job properly. Of course, she’d had a few interactions with you before. But usually, just as when you were going to ask her a question regarding the previous exterminations, Adam would steal you away from her and her group of fellow exorcists.

She couldn’t really be sure, you’ve been alive since the beginning of almost everything, so there was a part of her that hoped you didn’t remember everything that you’ve known and learned. Including her. She couldn’t miss the way your eyes flickered towards her, even if it was just for a moment. She watched as you stood up, there was always this thing about you that seemed so elegant and graceful. Something that she never was. She looked up to you when she wasn’t a fallen one yet. The way you’d take pride in making sure the people around you are in tip-top shape, the way you’d make sure to do your job with perfection. She kept her gaze on your face, scanning your features. You hadn’t changed that much since the last time she saw you, though, you did look a little more drowsy and, well, tired. She couldn’t really help the concern that built within her, you did so much to make sure everyone got the care they needed (at least when she was still in heaven), but it seems that you’ve been neglecting yours up until now.

“Gently now, let me have a look at that hand.”

Her eyes eventually landed on your larger hand holding her lover’s smaller, injured one. She wanted to help but she knew better than to interrupt an expert at what they do best. Though when Charlie let out a small hiss at the disinfectant you sprayed onto the injury, she perked up and scooted closer to the princess.

As soon as your fingertips made contact with her hand, Charlie's nerves somehow stopped going haywire. Your touch is… calming, she thought. But your hands were so cold, she didn't want to put much thought into that, so she chose to believe that it's because of the air conditioning in the room. On the contrary of what others think of her, Charlie never really had someone that cared and treated her. Yeah, she was the princess of hell, but when her parents parted ways, she was all alone in her little world. She learned that she must be independent, regardless of her royal status.

So as your hands worked to delicately treat her injury, she felt warm. Vaggie has been the only one to properly take care of her, so now that another person did help her, she was grateful for the experience and feeling of being cared for. Emily was watching intently from beside the princess, seated on her left while Vaggie was on Charlie’s right. She has never seen you do your work personally, and now she finds it so interesting. She smiled as you finally wrapped a clean bandage around the princess’s hand and tidied your equipment, putting them back inside the med-kit.

She thanked you as she stood up and tried to help you throw away the used medical equipment that laid on the coffee table. As she walked towards the trash can, she turned around to momentarily glance at you when she heard you speak.

“Charlotte, was it?”

No matter how many times your voice rings through her ears, Charlie thought she could never get used to the softness and gentleness that was laced within it. All of her attention was focused on you, each word that spilled from your lips etched itself into her mind. As she cradled her hand, which was now neatly and meticulously wrapped in bandages, she answered.

“Y-Yes! Charlotte Morningstar, but you can call me Charlie!”

She seemed to gain a little bit of her confidence now, and surprisingly, you were somewhat glad. You couldn’t deny the fact that she seemed like a kind person with how her energy leaked of positivity. But that slight pang that made your chest ache after hearing her last name never went unnoticed by you, it was subtle, but it was there. Why were you so affected by it? Haven’t you moved on and changed? Didn’t your heart and mind agree to let go for your own good? Your thoughts were running miles in the back of your mind. But that bright smile that Charlie sent your way made you unconsciously pause. Unintentionally, your eyes softened ever so slightly.

“I am (Name), a Seraphim. Pleased to make your acquaintance, young Morningstar.”

The way her last name rolled off your tongue was bittersweet. The pain from the bitterness came with the tenderness that you’ve been craving desperately for eons. You’re usually zoning out, playing every positive memory you had with a certain someone just to somehow neutralize the pain, but it always ended up worsening that throbbing pain in your soul.

The only time you ever found yourself free from those wretched emotions and feelings were when Adam was in the vicinity. As much as you used to deny it, you’ve grown accustomed to his presence. No, you’ve grown attached to it, better yet, grown attached to him. It was quite draining to interact with the first man, but it was worth every bit of energy you’ve lost, because as time passed, he became your battery. Your source of energy, at some point, that is. You soon faced Vaggie, an eyebrow raised in questioning.

“And may I know who this charming young lady is?”

What an act. You never forgot her, up to this day. But of course, you don’t know her life in hell and what secrets she may be hiding from her lover, so all you could do was to act as clueless as a stranger. You could call it respect, sure, but to you, the reason for it was because you’d chosen to just not meddle with other people’s business. The princess smiled with glee as she linked her arm with her girlfriend’s.

“This is my beautiful girlfriend, Vaggie!”

Vaggie smiled at the compliment Charlie threw in the introduction. To know that despite her disappearance in heaven, you felt a string of relief when you realized that she found her home down there. That feeling of envy somehow crept up on you. She had fallen, an angel that was forsaken, and yet she seemed to have been blessed with a better life than you ever were. You did so much for heaven, much, much more than what she has done. But why were you still stuck in your madness? When will you meet a person who’ll treat and love you just as how the princess of hell loved her?

“A pleasure to meet you as well.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, Vaggie doing the same, though it seemed more like a bow in your opinion. But you didn’t dwell on that any further. Charlie smiled, very happy with your little interaction. The princess of hell reminded you so much of Emily, in many ways too. The said Seraphim soon took her place beside you as you handed the princess a few packets of new bandages, just in case her injury bleeds more than anticipated. She thanked you and pocketed the little packets before reaching for her wallet. Emily saw this and immediately spoke, waving her hands dismissively at Charlie.

“Oh, no no, Let me pay! I was responsible, after all.”

She urged Charlie to keep her money, but the princess insisted. Vaggie couldn’t help but smile a little, uncharacteristically maybe, but seeing how similar the two are, she had hopes that they’d become good friends and that Emily may be able to provide great assistance to her lover’s dream. The more support they have, the more convincing it would be for others.

“There’s no need for such.”

Your voice interrupted their little, polite bickering. You somehow regret it now as the two included you in their small quarrel. You sweatdropped as they continued insisting on paying. Emily almost shoved the money in your hands, though another voice rang through all the chaos. Vaggie’s smile fell as she realized that the cute, wholesome, and amusing little fight was interrupted.

“Doc, lab room 4 has been prepared and is ready as per your orders.”

You recognized the voice from the other side of the door, one of your newer scientists. You focused on the young girls before you, sighing quietly with content now that this little feud can be avoided. The princess and young seraphim were still trying to get you to accept the money, but you raised your hand to dismiss their attempts. Watching them deflate as they finally accepted the fact that you won’t take their money. You found it very amusing, as did Vaggie. You walked back to your table, going around it and grabbing the white lab coat that rested on your chair.

“It has been a pleasure to meet you, young Morningstar. But duty calls, as they say.”

The moment you turned around, she was sure that you really were the woman that her father secretly drew when she was still a child. The colors of your wings were almost the exact same shade, exact same size in terms of proportions with the drawing that she vividly remembered. They were so captivating, though she’d only been able to see a glimpse of them, a small portion peeking from above your shoulders, a little bit from your sides, and below your hips. She didn’t notice it before, but you seemed to fold your wings, it was a random thought but she found it quite cute.

Emily soon broke the silence that fell upon the room after a while, deeming it time for them to depart and leave you to work. Vaggie nodded along as she held Charlie’s uninjured hand and gestured to the door. The princess thanked you again along with Emily and Vaggie. But before they could exit the room, your voice called out to them, or to her, at least.

“May I have a word with you privately, Vagatha?”

On que, Charlie was confused on why her girlfriend seemed to tense up at your request. The princess herself was quite perplexed with it, but she didn’t really have a reason to stop Vaggie. It’s not like you were going to hurt her, right? She soon joined Emily after telling her girlfriend that they’d be waiting in the hospital’s lobby.

As Charlie and the young seraphim walked down the halls, a few angels greeted them here and there, the princess realized something. You knew Vaggie’s real name? Did you know her prior to this meeting? Is that why Vaggie was so nervous when you asked to talk to her? But how’d you know each other? She was a demon, and you were an angel, not only an angel, a seraphim at that. Her thoughts were running a mile per minute, very confused and yet interested in this matter. She’d have to ask her girlfriend about this after you’ve had you talk.

Once the two had left, the silence filled the room once again. Vaggie didn’t speak, waiting for you to speak and tell her why you held her back. She watched as you made your way to the front of your table, leaning back on it slightly. Your gaze was hard and piercing, just like the atmosphere in the room. Her nerves were going crazy, she was sure that you’d ask her about what happened to her, and the thought itself made her frown.

But as soon as she raised her gaze to meet yours, she was speechless. Mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and her eyebrows way above them. For the first time since they entered the room, your face was painted beautifully with a smile. It was small, anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it, but she did. And she knew. The way your eyes were softly scanning her face, the way you seemed to look…content? No words seem to come out of her, staring back at you with what she hoped was the same amount of tranquility as yours.

“I’m glad to have met you once again, Vagatha.”

Your aura was nothing short of relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You may not admitted it to anyone, but you’ve grown to be slightly attached to all of your patients, including the exterminators. As much as you were against their job, you still did yours. And that was to make sure that they were well. After Vagatha’s disappearance, you were very concerned for her. She had been lost and left back at hell, a place where nothing but bad happened. You wanted to go down there yourself, but Sera reminded you of your duties. You realized that Vagatha may have needed you, but heaven needed you more. The guilt was killing you, and you suspected that she may not have been feeling well which is why she must’ve lost to a demon. You were partially responsible, in a way.

Vagatha was still star-struck. All her (after) life in heaven, you were there. Monitoring her health, her mental state, and her overall well-being. She knew you did it for the extermination’s sake, but she hoped, deep down, that you did it because you genuinely cared. You were like a big sibling to all the exorcists, always scolding them if they were eating too much junk food. She’d remember the times that you’d spend your rare, 10 minute breaks to watch them train. Sometimes you’d give advice, informing them of a body’s weak spots, you knew that an angel and a demon’s biology may be different, you still wanted to tell them hoping that the information helped. And they were thankful for it, just the thought that you wanted to help, it was enough. You were their family, you were her family.

When she was left to die in the Pride ring, she met Charlie, who then became her family. She may have lost you, she knew you’d be happy that she found home in hell. She didn’t regret anything. She didn’t regret letting that demon child escape and all the consequences that came with it. She promised you that she’d be the best. She didn’t just mean that in her job, she meant it as a person. And she knew you’d understand her, not like the others.

With every passing day, she hoped that you didn’t forget about her. As selfish as that wish was, she still wanted to see you again. She didn’t know how, but she wanted to meet you again. When Charlie brought up the idea of the redemption program for demons, she genuinely supported her lover. But there was a small sliver of desire in her actions, an intention to reunite with you. And to know that you still remembered her, it filled her heart with warmth just like how you used to.

No word in the dictionary could ever describe the way she was feeling. She was overwhelmed with emotions, trying so hard not to let these feelings activate the water works. But when your steps echoed through the silence, she felt your arms cage her in a secure embrace. It was like you were afraid of letting go and potentially losing her again. It took all of her energy to not let the tears fall, she didn’t want to ruin your coat, after all. But instead, she latched herself onto you, holding you with the same strength.

She was glad you didn’t ask about her wings. She was glad you didn’t ask her about her eye. She was glad you didn’t ask about what happened. Glad that you chose to just hold her as she tried to hold back her tears. Glad that you understood. Glad that you still accepted her despite what she did.

“What the fuck is taking her so long!?”

Adam complained, impatiently tapping on the table’s surface. Lute sighed at his antics, deeming his complaining as childish. But then again, you weren’t one to be tardy. You were very particular in terms of time, at least that’s what she knows. She stood with her hands behind her back, unconsciously anticipating your arrival. She was excited to meet you again, yeah, but she was more excited to get Adam to shut up with his complaining. She needed to cool down before she screamed at her boss.

“Come on! She NEVER makes me wait! Something must’ve happened, don’t ‘ya think we shoul-”

Before he could finish his statement, Lute cut him off. In the most respectful (passive) voice she could muster up with her little patience, she spoke.

“We do not need to look for her, Sir.”

Adam grumbled under his breath, complaining even more at her words. You usually spent your breaks with him, sometimes Lute would even be around. One of those times was now, well, you were supposed to be here by now at least. But you were nowhere to be found! Of course, he’d be fussy. Meeting up with you was the best part of his day. You were the only reason he did his work instead of giving it all to his lieutenant. He liked the way you praised him for it. He loved it. No, he needed it.

His displeasure kept increasing with each minute that passed. He wanted to meet you before the meeting with the angelic court and rainbow bitch. And yet here he is, all alone. And no, Lute does not count as company. He only ever likes and acknowledges your company. He could be doing the most important things, like talking to Sera, but as soon as you were involved, may it be a mention of your name or you were present and in the flesh, he’d immediately drop everything to ramble on about how close you two were or take his place beside you and ramble to you about his day.

Sera was, at first, against your closeness with Adam, remembering the last time you opened your heart to someone. But of course, it was your choice and she’d support you no matter what. You seemed to be happy with him after all, and she was happy for you as well. And you seem to keep Adam in his place, what a great bonus, right?

Adam was about to complain again, but a knock came from the door. He instantly perked up, his mood brightening as he expected you to enter. But his eager demeanor was crushed to pieces when a voice resounded from the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry to inform you, Sir, but Doctor (Name) wanted to let you know that she’d be working in the lab and will not be present today.”

Adam was broken hearted, devastated, betrayed, furious, and every negative feeling you could say. Lute wanted to laugh at his face, he was obviously upset. She watched as he stood up, complaining about something along the lines of you cheating on him. How amusing, you two weren’t in a relationship, at least not yet. She’d be lying if she said that she’s not expecting it to happen, it was as obvious as Adam always spoke about you in such a light that it was harder to believe that he didn’t like you.

Lute sighed as she soon followed him, keeping a distance to make sure her ears didn't bleed from his loud voice. She was curious as to why you didn’t show up since she knew how close you were with Adam, and maybe the fact that you always spent your short breaks with him.

Now don’t get her wrong, though she won’t admit it, she too is fond of you. She’s been one of the first exorcists you’ve taken care of. She saw how you’d help everyone who needed you, making sure they were in top condition. She was glad you were on board with the extermination, and maybe the fact that you always made sure to check on every one of the exorcists. The angels of the extermination were almost like her family, they’d train and eat together. And she was grateful for your help.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Adam had stopped walking, thus making her stop as well, right beside him. He was uncharacteristically quiet. His head was hanging low as he seemed to hold something in his hands. Curious, she peaked from his side. Her eyebrows raised as he held a box with his name on it. Is it a gift or something? But who in their right mind would give him a gift?

There seemed to be a note on it. As Adam was about to read it, he shifted his position a little bit to hide its contents from Lute, to which the woman shot him an unimpressed expression. As he did what he needed, she scanned the area to see if the person who gave him the gift was still present. Though no one except them were in the halls, even so, she noticed a small box sitting pretty beside the wall. It was gray, compared to Adam’s golden box. But she grabbed it nonetheless. There was also a note, and as she was about to open it, she heard the man beside her scream and squeal. She turned around to face him and was greeted with a box of fresh, steaming ribs in her face.

“They’re from (Name)! Can you believe it?! Wait, of course you can! She likes me THAT much, after all!”

His previous complaining was soon drowned out by his smug claims. Wow, wasn’t he just almost close to tearing up and throwing a tantrum because he thought you didn’t like him anymore? What a big baby. How do you tolerate him? Lute will never know. As she focused back on the box in her hands, was this from you as well? She took the small note, upon reading the contents, she unconsciously let a smile paint her face from beneath her mask.

“To my dearest Lute,

Just a small token for not showing up.

Consider it as an apology.

Let’s meet another time, shall we?

Have a great day.

- Sincerely,

(Name)”

Man, you were so extra, needing to give gifts just because you couldn’t make it. Couldn’t you have just messaged them? But she wasn’t complaining, not at all. She was kind of happy you thought of giving her a gift as well, not just Adam. Most people saw her as his shadow, a person who they didn’t need to acknowledge. But you saw her for herself. Important enough that you didn’t invalidate her and her feelings, because of that, she often found herself seeking your presence, or anything about you in general. You were the only one who she could show her true self to, after all. Well, she may or may not be a little jealous that Adam’s box was bigger, she’d never admit it, of course. She doesn’t have to be as important as Adam, she was satisfied with being enough to be acknowledged.

“Hey, that from (Name) too? What’d she write? Don’t tell me she confessed her fucking love for yo-”

She immediately cut him off by shoving the note that she received from you in his face, considering it as payback for him shoving stuff in her’s. Adam shut up quite quickly as he read the note with such focus, mumbling the note’s contents. The way his letter was longer and more intimate than her’s made his ego skyrocket. It wasn’t like he was expecting you to write a note similar for Lute, of course not! He took one last glance at it before leaning back before smirking. Unfortunately, he spoke (much to Lute’s dismay).

“Hah! Damn right, it’s not like anyone else’s more important than THE first man himself! It’s only right that she put a lot more effort in mine.”

He grabbed the note from his box, once again, shoving it to her face with such pride. Man, she wanted to punch him. But she read your note to him nonetheless. Reading quietly compared to how Adam read whilst mumbling. The differences in the notes you wrote for them was (painfully) obvious. Adam took pride in that, of course. Lute was partially affected, but she knew she’d never be able to compare to him in your eyes. Though she already accepted that.

“To my dearest, Adam

Forgive me for my absence,

I know you are waiting for me.

A certain project needed more

attention than anticipated.

I’ll make it up to you,

Once we meet again next time.

Be on your best behavior until then, yes?

I’ll be waiting for you.

Sincerely yours,

- (Name)”

Adam swore to himself that he’d frame this note and keep it in his bedroom. Only for him to see. He started thinking about everything he’d tell you once you’ve met again. He didn’t realize it, but he was spewing out his thoughts and it made Lute want to rip her hair out. She gets it, damnit! How many times does he have to openly talk about how much he likes you? God give her strength or else she’d bang her head against the wall she stood beside. As the gift lay pretty in her hands, she decided to just open it once she got home. She didn’t need to hear him ramble about how his gift was better than hers. For now, she needed to focus on the meeting with the princess of hell.

The meeting was a disaster, from what you were told.

You just got out of the lab when one of the angelic court members met you in your office, explaining the events that happened. You were worried for the princess and her lover when you heard every detail. But of course, you were more worried for Emily. You knew she was unaware of the extermination, to know that her sister was the one who ordered for it to happen must affect her greatly. You still had a ton of shit to finish, as always. But you wanted to make sure the princess and Vagatha went back to hell unscathed and well. Wait, you were willing to ditch your work just to make sure they were okay?

Despite your inner turmoil, you made your way out of the hospital after informing your nurses and other doctors that you’d be gone for a while. They were curious about what made you leave your important work, as much of a workaholic you are, this just seemed so uncharacteristic of you but they didn’t question you about it. You were informed of their whereabouts, and your hospital was not too far from it, fortunately.

As soon as they came into view, you came up to them with haste. Instantly calling out to them, you soon noticed the small portal from behind them. You also noticed Emily’s presence, you debated on whether to make your way up to her or the princess. Wait, you were hesitating? Why? Shouldn’t you check on Emily first? With hesitance, you took a place beside the young seraphim to check if she was okay, caressing her face and examining for any scratch of some sort. As soon as you deemed her alright, you turned to Charlie, doing the same as you did with Emily. After the princess, you repeated your actions with Vagatha.

Charlie was surprised to see you here, even more when you seemed so worried for her and her lover. It felt quite weird for a- well, stranger, to show this much care to her. She’s used to demons being fussy and mean upon meeting her, then again, you were an angel. So maybe that was the explanation she needed. She smiled as she watched you check her girlfriend for any injuries. What a warm feeling, she loves it.

“(Name)? What are you doing here?”

Emily asked first, wondering why you were here and not doing your work. Which is really important, by the way. She had a feeling Charlie and Vaggie were confused by your presence. You took a glance at her before turning back to the princess. A soft hand coming up to brush her bangs a little bit to the side, giving you a clearer view of her face.

Your touch is just as warm as the feeling you give her, she thought. Will you still be this kind to her after you heard her plan? Or would you go against it like Sera and the others? She hoped that you’d still be the same, welcoming and warm. Heck, she wanted you to agree with her plan. But it wasn’t impossible for you to deny her anymore of her dreams. What if you deemed redemption as ridiculous? Would you still look at her with the same, kind expression as you’re doing right now? Each question that ran through every corner and crevice of her mind, she started losing even more hope. You spoke to Charlie, voice barely above a whisper. But everyone heard it as clear as day, immediately perking up with wide eyes.

“You have me on your side, young Morningstar.”

The feeling of warmth from deep within Charlie started sparking into firecrackers at your words. Her eyes instantly brightened as her whole demeanor did. Her smile was sparkling, and you somehow found yourself trying to mirror it with your own. This caused even more reactions, more specifically from Emily. She hasn’t seen you smile like this in ages, thus she too smiled with happiness at the sight before her. Now, Vagatha was no different, a bright smile painted on her face as well.

As you exchanged a few more words, laughs, and smiles, you knew you all had to get going. Your duties were probably piling up so high despite only being gone for less than an hour. With a last hug, you made sure to inform them of your stand once again. That you were on their side. It was all Charlie needed as a push to not lose all hope. To know that someone from heaven, one of the highest authorities, believed her and supported her dream. It was a solid factor to achieve the success of her plans, your support, that is.

As you pulled away from each other’s embrace, Emily smiled as the princess and her lover thanked you once again. You were so amazing in her eyes. Aside from her sister, you were always the one she looked up to the most. After the revelation of the extermination, she started losing trust in Sera. Was there anything else that her sister had hid from her? Not only did she lie to her, Sera was even the one who ordered the extermination that killed many souls! Yes, they were demons, but she too believed that they deserved a second chance.

You and your fellow seraphim watched as the princess and her lover waved goodbye, soon entering the portal that would send them back home. You turned around as your phone started vibrating, excusing yourself from Emily and answering it. Unbeknownst to you, another person from the other side of the portal had recognized you despite only seeing the back of your head and your wings.

Lucifer stood near the portal, waiting for his daughter and Vaggie. He relaxed as soon as he saw that they were alright and smiling. It made him think that heaven actually agreed to her plan for a second. He watched as Vaggie came out from the portal first, extending her hand to it. Soon enough, Charlie came out of it as well, her hand in Vaggie’s.

Though he immediately rushed to his daughter once he saw the bandages wrapped around her hand. Asking her a bunch of questions such as “What the fuck happened?” and “Who did this to you?” Though his daughter would just brush her hand off and dismiss the topic, telling him it was merely an accident. But Lucifer wasn’t buying it, so he turned to the portal, making his way towards it before it closed.

He was stuck in his place, eyes wide, mouth agape as he drank in the sight before him. Time must’ve stopped because he couldn’t move nor speak at all. His gaze remained solely on the figure that had him frozen. Everything came rushing down at him, all the memories, all the experiences, all the pain. How funny, wasn’t he the one who turned away from you? So why was he so suffocated by just a glance at your back? He didn’t even know if it was really you. What if this person just had a similar hair color and the exact same wings? Yeah, what if?

You’ve grown taller, he noted.

He'd remember the times he would ask you to grab a book for him, which just happens to be on the highest of shelves. How convenient. He wasn't really interested in whatever topic the book discussed, no, he just wanted your attention. He'd be beaming with joy as soon as you stood up from where you sat, taking your place beside him and extending a hand to grab the book he was asking for. He'd thank you with a kiss, taking pride in the light sign of embarrassment on your face. You'd let out a small huff of air in amusement as he pretended to read the book's contents right after.

Your hair has somehow grown longer than what he remembered.

He'd remember the times that he would visit your libraries, searching every corner and crevice just to find you peacefully sleeping on one of the tables with your head on top of the book that rested on the wooden surface. He'd debate on whether he'd wake you up or not. But as soon as he heard your soft snoring, he'd smile and take a seat beside you. You were breathtaking, he thought. The way your skin reflected the sunlight, the way your hair would shine just as bright. Unconsciously, his hand would take a few strands of your hair, gently caressing them with his fingers. Soft, that was the only thought he had in mind.

Your wings were as beautiful and captivating as ever, were they still as soft as he recalled?

He'd remember the times he'd practically beg you to let him touch your wings. You would often tell him to touch his own, but of course, he wanted to know how yours felt. Even after no matter how much you have allowed his fingertips to glide over you feathers, he's never gotten over how fluffy they felt under his touch. Sometimes, you'd be reading the most boring book (according to him) and he'd be seated beside you, leaning all of his body weight on your wings. You'd even let him fall asleep on them as he was lulled to slumber by your presence.

But will he ever experience those again with you?

You seemed to be talking to someone on the phone, and god, he hoped that you wouldn’t turn around and see him in this state. The tears were already threatening to fall, his throat was suddenly so dry that it hurt. His hands were shaking as his nerves were. What would you do if you ever see him again? Would you run up to him and hug him? Would you smile and open your arms for him to run into?

Or would you just stare at him with displeasure as you recalled all of the pain he caused you?

He’s been living with guilt ever since the day he fell from grace. He knew he left you, he knew he chose his dream instead of staying with you. He knew he fucked it all up. He’s wanted to apologize to you, trust him, he did. But he just… couldn’t bear to face you knowing the influence his actions had on you. Each passing time of his consciousness, he always wondered if you would have forgiven him.

Have you forgiven him?

It was a question that almost seemed like a chant, a chant for forgiveness. Your forgiveness. But he knew that the weight of his decision hurt you more than he could ever imagine. Did you think you weren’t enough for him to stay? Did you blame yourself for not being able to convince him? Have you ever regretted disagreeing with his plans and dreams?

Did you regret ever meeting him?

Did you ever regret liking him?

Did you ever regret loving him?

Would you have been happier if he had never been a part of your life?

As the portal shrunk in size, so did his view of your back. Many, many feelings were spiraling within the king of hell as he watched you walk away with a young seraphim. Those overwhelming feelings seemed to have intensified tenfold once he saw a view of the side of your face as you turned your head to face your companion. Oh, god.

You were as beautiful as the day he lost you.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel

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raysrays · 2 months

Text

Jealous! Kyojuro Rengoku X Fem! Reader NSFW

CW: NSFW content, possessiveness/jealousy, Oral sex.

Minors Do Not Interact! 18+

Y/N perspective

I settled down under the tree, overlooking the training grounds while chugging water. It’s the hottest day of the year, and all the Hashira are taking advantage of it by training.

Just finished my hand-to-hand combat training with Tomioka. The man’s quiet, but he sure is fast. That last move had me completely pinned to the ground. I’m definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

Honestly, it was pretty embarrassing; it felt like everyone was watching. Tengen hyping up Tomioka from the sidelines definitely didn’t help the situation. I didn’t even get to see Kyojuro's reaction to my loss. I didn’t have the heart to look. As his Tsuguko, I’m a representative of him, and I feel like I probably embarrassed him too.

Just then, I feel someone sitting next to me. It’s Tomioka… I didn’t think he’d be the type to come over and brag about winning. This sucks.

“You didn’t do bad, you know,” he said in that monotone voice. He’s as stoic as ever.

Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting him to come over and comfort me.

“Uh, thanks. I just need to train a little more. I’ll get you next time!” I try to smile. If he’s not going to rub it in my face, I shouldn’t dwell on it.

I feel him looking at me, so I turn to face him. Is he smiling? Well, kinda? He’s not exactly frowning as usual.

“Yeah, until next time,” he puts his hand on my shoulder reassuringly and then stands up to leave.

“Oh, and one more thing-“ he began.

“Rengoku isn’t mad at you. You should probably go watch him go against Tengen.”

“I’ll watch from here where it’s shaded,” I reply.

He just nods and walks back to where the others are standing.

I watch as the two begin their sparring. Why does it seem more vicious than usual? Kyojuro looks like he’s really going all out this time. He looks very attractive right now.

Their sparring match goes on for another few intense minutes. Kyojuro is smiling; he must be fine, not mad at me at all.

I must have managed to catch his attention as I noticed him glance over at me, his smile dropping.

Oh, maybe not.

Damn it, I really didn’t want to listen to him lecture me about training more.

I finally make my way back down to the group, and we all talk amongst ourselves. I see a tall shadow hovering over me.

I turn around, locking eyes with Kyojuro.

He’s smiling, but I can tell this is just an “I’m not going to scold you now but I will later” type of smile.

I let out a sigh and make my way back to my quarters. I know he’s following me, but surely he will wait to talk after I’ve cleaned up. We both probably smell terrible.

As I’m about to shut the door to my room, a hand suddenly blocks it from closing. I look up, being met with a very stern-faced Kyojuro.

What’s his problem? Was me losing to Tomioka really that big of a deal?

He then pushes my door back open, walking in. “We need to talk, little flame,” his voice doesn’t sound like himself. This definitely isn’t the Kyo I was used to.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.

“I know I shouldn’t have lost to Tomioka, and I promise I’ll train harder so I don’t make you look bad next time.” I’m praying my apology is enough.

It was only a second later I feel his lips on mine. He’s kissing me? But this time it’s different. It feels rough, urgent. What’s going on?

I feel him push his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss.

I pull away, breathing heavily. Why is he doing this?

He leans in and whispers in my ear.

“Did you enjoy it? Being pinned down by him?” He sounds so angry.

“What? What are you talking about?” I feel my face turning bright red.

I then feel a small pinch on my ear. Was he biting me?

“Tomioka. Did you like him holding you down like that? Enough for him to find you after and touch you some more?”

Is he being serious? This is so out of character for him.

“Kyo, are you jealous?” I ask with a hint of tease in my voice.

He then pulls me back in to kiss me again. I feel him walking me backwards, pushing my back against the wall.

He’s running his hands all over me, squeezing my breast, kissing me more passionately.

After a few seconds, I feel his hands moving down. He’s touching me there? Now? It feels like this is happening so fast, but it just feels so good.

I start to moan against his lips, and I put my hand over his.

“Kyojuro, wait… I need to wash up first.”

He then gets on his knees, looking up at me more sweetly than earlier.

“I don’t care about that right now, sunflower. Right now, I just want to please you. In a way he cannot,” he says, undoing my belt.

I feel my legs start to shake; this is so much. All of this just because Tomioka had to reassure me I didn’t fight terribly?

He knows what he’s doing, kissing me down there so softly.

I throw my head back, feeling him run his tongue all over me. Kyojuro was definitely a skilled swordsman, but he was also a professional in making me feel good.

I can’t help but cover my mouth with my hand. It’s not like these walls are super thick. I use my free hand to grab a fistful of his beautiful flame-colored hair.

I arch my back against the wall. I’m really starting to feel it now.

I can’t stand his teasing. He’s doing this to punish me.

“Kyo, please…” I manage to breathe out.

He pulls back a little. “Please what, sunflower? What is it you want?” He says softly, his voice full of arousal.

“Please, just let me finish,” I whisper.

He grins up at me. “After what you did?”

He leans back into me, going even slower than before.

I hit my head against the back of the wall. This is absolute torture. I’ve never wanted to cum so bad.

I tighten my grip on his hair that I still had in my hand.

I feel like my heart is about to beat out of my chest and like my legs are about to give out.

Finally, I feel him start to pick up the pace, and I don’t think I can stand it any longer.

I grip both of his shoulders as tightly as I can.

And finally, I feel it. The release is better than I could have imagined. It felt like it went on forever, and it was what I needed.

I feel my back slide down the wall, causing me to be eye level with Kyojuro on the floor.

We are both out of breath, staring at each other.

Kyojuro then pulls me into his lap, kissing my head.

“So, little flame, did I make you feel good?” He sounds so innocent, as if he didn’t just completely overpower me a second ago.

I shake my head. “You really got that jealous over Tomioka? It was just some hand-to-hand training.” I laugh.

His face turns bright red. “Well, yes, I know… but I just don’t know how to explain it. Seeing you being held down by him really just struck a nerve with me, and then him coming up to you after the match. I just couldn’t control it.” He sounds so embarrassed.

I cup his face in my hands and kiss his cheek. “Kyojuro, I love you. I would never crave the attention of anyone but you.”

I brush his hair out of his face, leaning into his ear.

“Nobody can make me feel good like you do,” I whisper.

He smiles brightly and laughs, pulling me into a tight hug. “That’s wonderful news, my little flame! I love you!”

There he is. There’s my sweet Kyo.

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often,” I tease.

“I’d advise against it,” he replies, kissing me one more time.

“Shall we get cleaned up now?” He suggests.

I nod, and we both finally make our way off the floor.

Well, that’s not exactly how I thought my “lecture” would go, but I guess I’m not complaining.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kny rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #x reader #smut #kny smut #rengoku smut #not safe fw #hashira x reader #kny hashira #kny x reader #kny #kyojuro rengoku x reader #jealousy #possessive

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sinlizards · 5 months

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im not sure if youve answered this before, but im really curious about how you decide which contrasting colors to add where! i know about adding a reflected color of something next to it (idk how to explain that sorry) but i always find when i try to add little splashes of color while shading a piece, they look out of place!!

heres a rough general explanation feat. Beato + some extra stuff!

What I focus on with making a color feel cohesive is seeing where exactly i can use that color again through out the piece that way it balances everything out. To choose the colors themselves i normally just take the base color and saturate it in my preferred direction (i.e. parts of her blonde hair becoming green, her headpiece becoming hot pink)

for something with a Lot of added/different pops of color I tend to unify the whole thing by throwing a layer of overlayed color jitter on like 10% or less which helps those colors not feel so out of place (also this piece you can see more of where im adding color at overlaps or areas of interest instead of just the shadows)

something that can also help if you are going a more painterly route is having a base layer of a bright color and then laying down your flats lightly over top allowing the under layer to peak through which is what i showed in this breakdown (which you can also see me adding a complimentary color to areas of visual interest)

And lastly a lot of this is just kinda trial and error! as I said before i tend to work on one layer but for these final embellishment type things (added pops of color, halftone, patterns, etc.) i mostly save that for last and keep them on a layer above the piece because a part of the process is just messing around with a bunch of stuff and seeing what looks good

#art help #hopefully that all makes sense! this is such a gut feeling based thing for me that its hard to put it into words #but like i said just fuck around and find out #the halftone bit in the beato breakdown was cuz i initially tried to answer both this ask and an ask about halftone #but i decided to make a seperate thing for that later #lizard inbox

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goatakiart · 1 month

Text

JEALOUS XAVIER!!!💛

Love And Deepspace

SFW

Bar scene

Kiss scene

I put a lot of work on drawing and writing, I hope you like it! 💛

☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ

You walk into the office in drowsy steps towards your desk and drop into your chair. It's too early in the morning. The sun is barely out, and everything is still dark.

Just when you short things out before you begin to work, a colleague comes over to your desk with a cup of coffee. Since he came to the office and you work together, he keeps bringing you coffee every morning, which is curious, but you appreciate the gesture.

Right when you thank him and he begins to walk away, you notice a different figure walking up to your desk with a bag on his hand. It seems like a busy day already. You blink in surprise.

"Xavier?? What are you doing here?"

Xavier lets the small bag on your desk.

"I was passing by for some intel, so I brought you breakfast. I...will probably have to stay here today."

He takes a small glance at the coffee sitting on your desk and looks up at the man that's walking away.

His presence made the day better already

You smile and drag another chair next to yours, the sound of the dragged chair legs draws Xavier's attention back to you. You simply pat the chair next to you.

"Be my guest."

Xavier's lips curl up. He brings a laptop and some books to his side of the desk. You spend some time eating together and talking about how you slept, You enjoy hearing about all the weird dreams he always has. Unfortunately, you have to cut the chase and work. You both drown in silence and focus on your tasks. Only the sound of keyboards and the book pages is heard all around. However, his presence is enough company.

The afternoon comes, the orange light hits through the window, and a lot of people leave the office. Your colleague comes to your desk once again.

"Hello, was the coffee good?"

Xavier just ignores him. He crosses his leg as he keeps reading his book.

You smile politely at the man on the other side of the desk and nod in response. He smiles back happily.

"I'm not here for that tho! Did you know that a team of hunters is gonna have a party going on tonight? It's at the bar on the next square. I thought I should invite you, I'll be there too."

Xavier subtly takes his eyes away from the book and side eyes him behind the pages, in a way that none notices. You agree to go and continue the conversation a little before he heads off.

"See you there, Trevor." You wave goodbye and finally close the laptop.

As you walk back home with Xavier, he's a little too silent. He's probably focused his thoughts on his research. The pink and peach shades of the sky eliminate on him beautifully, it causes you to daydream for a short while and grin like an idiot. You poke his shoulder softly. A cloud moves and casts its shadow against you both, hiding the light of the sky.

"Did you hear?"

"Hmm?"

He rotates his head to your direction, he's still in thought.

"About the party."

"Oh, what about it?"

You hesitate slightly before asking him, he probably won't accept, he's not the type to party, but you try anyway.

"Do you wanna come--"

His focus fully shifts to you.

"I would love to go with you."

He didn't even leave you fully finish the sentence, you're a bit shocked he agreed so fast, but it's a pleasant surprise, he looks eager to come.

"Then, I'll see you there?"

His expression becomes somewhat alluring, a smile forms on his lips, his head tilts, the cloud moves away and the light is even brighter than before, you can see the sky in his eyes.

"I'll come take you by 10pm instead. Let's go together."

You raise an eyebrow by his reactions but agree, you didn't wanna go alone anyway.

"Sure, let's go together!"

☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆

The night finally comes, and you're outside your door waiting for Xavier to appear. You wear a simple short, sleeveless, black dress and boots, not much. As he appears, you notice he's dressed in black for the first time since you met him, which makes you match. A buttoned top and fancy pants with a golden chain on his neck with a small star. It's as if he did it on purpose.

"You look really good!" You say excitedly and his face can't help but brighten up in satisfaction.

"Do you like it? I bought it today. You look beautiful Y/N." He says and softly reaches for your hand which you playfully take and twirl around as if you're dancing, you both chuckle.

"Did you buy this only for today?"

"Perhaps I need a change."

He looks down at your purse embarrassed.

"Let me take this for you."

He takes your purse and hangs it on the side of his shoulder.

"Why, thank you."

You lovingly wrap your hand around his bicep as you head towards the party.

You reach the entrance and you both notice that the club is packed and loud music is playing. Some of Xavier's old colleagues appear and begin to talk to him, he gives you a look that you know very well... he's pleading to be saved, however you do not submit to the request.

"I'll find a seat for us, it's not bad to socialize once in awhile, I'll be waiting for you alright?" He looks quite disappointed but agrees.

"I'll be back soon."

You get in, nuzzle your way through to find a place to sit. Trevor also finds his way to you. He reeks of alcohol, so you assume he's already drunk.

"Heyyy! You made it here! I'm so glad to see you."

"Well, I said I would come."

You are being polite but way colder than how you treat Xavier. You clearly don't trust him enough. He's sloppy and his voice is unstable. He approaches you, you take a step back in response. "I noticed I've never seen you fight! I'm pretty sure you're an amazing hunt--"

"She's an exceptional hunter."

Xavier's voice cuts him off from behind you. His hand wraps around your shoulder tightly as he towers over you. His voice is firm, his eyes darken, you could say he's a little...scary.

For a moment your thoughts wander again. You think to yourself that he looks crazy attractive in black. Trevor takes a step back this time, as Xavier continues, his voice sounds mad. He's rarely mad.

"If you wish to witness a fight, I could give you a demonstration."

He tilts his head with a frown, rising an eyebrow, an expression fill of intimidation.

The drunk man's gaze lower in shame.

"No, man, it's alright... I'll... I'll go now..."

He raises his hand in defeat and walks away in quick steps, almost running. You blink in shock, you look up at Xavier as he watches him go like a carnivore watching a pray.

"What was that?"

As his gaze turns to you, his eyes change immediately from threatening to sweet, you raise your eyebrows, and your eyes widen. Your expression communicates perfectly to him. Meanwhile, the music started changing towards the slow romantic kind.

"He was obviously drunk. He could have done something inappropriate."

"So tonight you're my knight in shining armor?"

Your expression switches to a slightly teasing grin. He smiles in response and bows as he extends his hand.

"Would you care to give me this dance, your majesty."

He could get into the role pretty easily. It's as if he's actually a knight.

"I would love to." You placed your hand on top of his in delicate movement. He grasped it tightly and planted a kiss on top of it before he pulled you close to him. You release a short gasp by the sudden pressure. Your heart doesn't just skip a beat but miltiple. Your chest touches his, and his hand lingers to your back as you begin to dance. You look up at him. He grins with an adorable gaze.

"The dance lessons we did back then seems to have worked."

Your face flushed at the reminder, you immediately look away.

"Did you get that black fit on purpose?"

You were meant to ask this for some time now, but now it was the perfect opportunity to avoid the conversation.

"We're matching, Xavier."

The expression painted on his face reveals it all. You could notice a tint of pink on his cheeks at the revelation of understanding his motive. You both keep dancing. He leans forward to the side of your face. You can feel his hot breath on your ear, but he doesn't immediately speak, as if he's hesitating. Your heart begins to beat faster, you hold your breath. Xavier tightens the embrace, wrapping his arms around you like he'd never let you go. You can feel the warmth of his body, hear his heartbeat as it grows in intensity. His muscles tighten around you. When he speaks, his voice is nothing like what you've heard before. The slow, sensual whisper leaks down your ear, like honey on fruit.

"What's wrong with showing others you're mine."

You would never expect him to say something like that, your lips part slightly as you stay in place. The thought he's jealous drives you crazy. You feel a spark down your nerves as you release the breath you were holding in fear it will reveal the overflowing emotions. You caress the hand which is holding yours and interwine your fingers together as you begin to slow dance, you sneakily kiss his neck as he still leans against your ear. His breath catches in his throat, he reactively jumps back to check your expression. He looks down and around in embarrassment. You giggle. Your arms go around his shoulders, closing the space in between. You tiptoe to reach his ear, to return the previous act. This time you are the one to whisper seductively.

"I like it when you're jealous. I might even make you jealous on purpose."

You say teasingly, acting all tough. However your heartbeat is quickening. He's not immune to this either. He can feel his heart hammering against his chest and his face feeling hotter and hotter. His hand explores your back before it reaches your cheek, he continues by placing it under your chin. His expression overwhelms you with desire. His face flushed with passion and a little desperation. He meets your gaze and swallows. He's lost himself in all the feelings you give him. The look you have on your face is enough to satisfy him. The corners of his lips curl up in a slight teasing smirk.

"I would not suggest that."

His gaze explores your face, slowly moving his pupils around, scanning you. His actions sends a jolt through your veins, your face turns red, you subconsciously bite your lip, but you decide to keep up the act.

"Is that so?"

He raises his eyebrow in amusement, the smirk grows larger.

"That is so."

He leans even closer, his blue eyes are shining against the dark environment beautifully, he doesn't break the eye contact, you slowly lean as well, your eyes are closing, blocking the view of his own, till you feel his soft lips against yours. They taste like cherry, they feel like silk, his perfume doesn't go unnoticed either. His effords are shining like a bright star against a dark sky, and they totally win you over. His hand gripped on your back, pulling you against him. He deepens the kiss, you can't help but add your tongue to the game, so you lick his lips shyly. A short whispery gasp escapes his lips just before he deepens the kiss, and you feel his delicious tongue against yours. Your body reacts like a magnet to him. You melt into his embrace, not resisting anything he does. He has you in the palm of his hand when he claims you, he knows it, and he loves it.

#anime fanart #xavier fanfic #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x reader #xavier #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #xavier fanart #love and deepspace fanart #love and deepspace fanfic

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odoraful · 29 days

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Somnium pt1

zayne's last dream has left him shaken and he hopes to meet you again to reconcile his fears

content: dawnbreaker!zayne x reader; a direct continuation from zayne’s anecdote 'still in the dark'; 917 words a/n: spoilers for ‘still in dark’ so if you haven’t read it yet be warned! read part 2 here reading bgm ♫ Prologue V - The Weight of History's Presence

Though it had been days since that last dream, the shocked expression on your face has since haunted Zayne.

You aren’t Dr. Zayne. Who are you?

He’d been afraid to fall back asleep again since. Those dreams he once coveted so much, desperately hoping for your warm embrace, now became a source of fear for him. In every fleeting moment you shared, he thought he’d done everything right. He played the role of that smart and reliable partner just for you.

It had all been perfect until that last dream.

The days from then on stretched endlessly like taffy. Zayne filled in his time doing anything he could to silence his fears. He thought often about activities Georgie would have enjoyed and made himself plans with the young boy in mind. Trying new sweets at the dessert shop, reading beside the jasmine flower field in the plaza, watching the sun set from his apartment window. Detective Ivan seemed to have kept his promise, and the public whispers of Dawnbreaker fizzled away, leaving Zayne free to carry out his duties in complete anonymity. He’d sometimes finish his day off with a visit to Georgie and his mother’s graves. During the night, he’d stay awake for as long as his body could handle until he was overcome with fatigue, passing out wherever he sat.

He found that no dreams would come if he slept this way.

The impracticality of this type of living did not faze Zayne until he stared at his own reflection in the mirror one day. He had heavy bags under his eyes and a pallor to his face that made him almost unrecognisable to himself. He gripped the edge of the sink, a sudden nausea making his head spin.

It was foolish to continue like this. He needed to see you again.

Perhaps he should try and talk to you without the guise of this doctor. If the dream had allowed you to speak out, then surely it would give him the same ability. He would explain himself to you, prove that he was the person you loved. These dreams he had since he was a child had shaped his entire worldview. He moulded himself to be yours. Surely, with your presence in these dreams also, they must mean something to you too.

Yes, that would be the most sensible course of action.

For the first time in a while, Zayne gave himself a proper night routine. Though, the flavourless nutritional liquid he downed for dinner did little to quell the anxiety in his stomach, and washing his face with cool water could not banish the heat from his cheeks.

His mind was filled with rehearsals of what he would say to you as he laid in bed. In his periphery, he made out the dim, red glow the numbers of his alarm clock casted across the dark room. Zayne read in a medical fact sheet that it took a person around fifteen to twenty minutes to fall asleep. Turning to look at the clock, the numbers that read 23:18 dazzled his vision.

He closed his eyes, the afterimage of the red numbers remaining behind his eyelids. His final thoughts were a plea to the stars above to let him visit you again, before he let his subconscious pull him deeper.

Zayne did not know how he arrived here, but he now stood on a gravel path beneath archways of curling shrubbery. The greenery was well manicured with small white flowers. As he inhaled, he was surprised to find the light scent of jasmine in the air. A small piece of familiarity that calmed his senses.

Stepping out from the shade and onto grass, he realised the dream was set in a garden. Benches were scattered around to provide viewing seats for the flowers, which, Zayne noticed, seemed to only be variations of different types of white flowers. Close by, there was a river dotted with clusters of lily pads and white petals that gently drifted along the surface. A bridge over the river led to a green roofed pavilion suspended atop the water. Zayne was so accustomed to his own drab and dark world that it almost hurt his eyes to gaze around this idyllic scene. The sound of indistinct chatter surrounded him, however, there were no signs of other people around no matter where he turned, save for one person he spotted standing on the grass.

Zayne exhaled a shaky breath.

A pale blue dress that stood out against the flowering white buds flitted around your legs, though his own clothes did not rustle against any breeze. Sunlight illuminated your skin, though he could not feel any warmth from its rays. His dreams had strange ways of carefully crafting his desires. You had an expectant expression on your face, glancing about in search of somebody. Zayne’s feet felt like dragging weights as he forced himself to walk, fighting off his fear of closing the distance.

Your expression turned to delight when you saw him approaching. You waved at him, grinning. Something twisted inside him. How long had it been since he’d seen that smile?

He put up a hand hesitantly in greeting.

You began to walk, almost skipping towards him. Zayne almost backed away, startled by your enthusiasm.

Only metres apart now, you suddenly froze, eyes going wide. Zayne didn’t move a muscle, feeling his own body lock up. The background chatter dissipated, as you opened your mouth to speak. The world turned silent as if in anticipation for the words you were about to say.

“It’s- it’s you again.”

#this anecdote has burrowed its way into my brain ever since first reading it !!#✏️〰odorawrites #love and deepspace #l&ds #lads #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #dawnbreaker

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1800titz · 6 months

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Hi friends! I’ve been sitting on this for about 3 months now and had the spontaneous urge to share. More lengthy authors note is over on wattpad. ٩(◕‿◕)۶

This one is going to be a long, chaptered fic, and here's the first chapter!

Also, big thank you to Miss @freedomfireflies for her help brainstorming <3

WC: 6.5K

Harry thinks that prissy, pretty little princesses stowed away in his cabin, tied up with ropes like haphazard, shibari interpretations, outweigh all chests, upon chests, of dainty sapphire emblems and chunky pendants of gold. This particular …treasure, in fact, is worth far beyond her weight in pure gold. A sight for sore eyes, too. Still sopping from the sea, her low-cut neckline clinging to her flesh and her skirt sheerly draped over her parted thighs.

It’s a nice view.

Seren doesn’t know how she’s ended up strapped to some horribly uncomfortable stool in a rocking room that’s wood, ceiling to floor.

Well.

She knows that the boat she was on was a victim of piracy. She knows that the ship, aimed for Holland, met an unsightly demise at some point, in open ocean, between Rotterdam and Harwich. She knows she’d been in a cabin of the Mary when the first strike landed, when flames erupted over the forecastle, when the deck turned to screams and a beautiful morning of calm skies, wisps of white she’d admired minutes prior, meant virtually nothing to the tightening in her chest.

The pirate leans back against the wall. His eyes, like emeralds, wind over her shape. She grits at the balled fabric between her teeth, chest heaving. He’s a man — a man’s man, unlike in appearance to the men she’s used to spending her pastime around, back home. The kinds who wither at the sight of the wrong fork at the dinner table or something, and turn their noses up at the thought of carrying something heavier than forty pounds. The kind whose hair coils pristinely, seemingly solidified rock in place. The kind who carry umbrellas to ward off the glaring rays of the sunlight as they stroll through the courtyard of shrubbery in their fancy shoes and fancy garments. This man is not that type of man.

He’s different, she can see it just in the way he carries himself. He’s not scared to get his hands dirty, he’s not scared to do the work. The crest of his left cheekbone wears a scar, a nick, so small she wouldn’t see it had he not stepped into the buttery beam of the daylight cast through the little window on the precipice of wall and ceiling, particles of dust dancing in the makeshift spotlight. His fingers, adorned with chunky rings, his hands — they’re calloused, like a laborer. She can see it from her view. His garb is simple, clad over his skin for purpose and comfort, solely.

But simple isn’t the term she’d deem best to describe him, not with his myriad of accessories, from the trinkets glinting from his holster, to his plethora of rings, to the mysterious, rusted key that dangled in the glen between his pecs. That one’s highlighted against bare skin in the vale of his haphazardly unbuttoned shirt. From there, she can see ink over his torso, carved in shapes over swarthy flesh. All sorts of pictures; beaks, and wings, lines of careful shading and others of jet emphasis; thicker, deeper sketches in contrast.

He’s clean shaven, which is unlike any pirate Seren’s ever heard tall tales of. His mouth is pink, cushiony in shape, and when the corners of his mouth turn up, dimples wink awake beside the curl. An even slope of a nose, and jade irises that brew with mischief. Seren can almost see the way that the flinty shade would brew with a storm, like the sea. If he wasn't a pirate of the boat that’d throttled her own, sent it spiraling into the ocean as nothing but husks of chipped wood and dying ember, maybe she’d find an alluring quality to him. But it’s not food for thought.

“Should we try again?” he prompts, in his tantalizing cadence.

When she’d heard him speak, for the first time, she was floored. An Englishman. An Englishman, youthful and spry, sailing a pirate ship, and pillaging when so much more could be in the books for such a man. So much potential, wasted. What a crying shame. She’d heard of pirates, of brutish criminals from her homeland, but they were always, for some reason or another, older, unprepossessing, scarred and crude with unkempt beards and a lack of morals, too far gone to redeem. They had eyes much too hungry for riches, and lewd, groping hands that were much too focused on flesh. Seren eyes his hands. They’re colossal. He hasn’t touched her in that way, not like that, but the lazy smirk over his plush mouth, the way his irises rake over her neckline, down the meshified front of her dress — that practically urges her not to count her blessings too soon.

When he squats just ahead of her, watching her in pause, his eyes glinting with this sort of condescension, because she’s indisposed and at his whim, Seren wishes her legs weren’t bound to the legs of the chair. She’d kick him, if she could. She’d scream, and kick, and claw, and—

“Are you going to start shouting again? Is that what you’re thinking about?” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth buckling. When she’s unable to respond, for obvious reasons, the man cups his palm over the shell of his right ear and twists his head a tad, leaning towards her a smidge.

“M’gonna need an answer, if you’d like to me to un-gag you. M’specifically gonna need a no,” the pirate prompts, a jesting air to his tone that Seren would love to crush. Her chest is still heaving from the last screaming fit, from the first time he’d tugged at the rope pressing to her cheeks and pulled the smushed fabric off of her tongue. His mouth twitches wryly.

He plants his forearms onto his thighs, casting his gaze to her as he weighs out the options, lips crooked, but eyes narrowed, just a bit, in a way that wordlessly suggests she comply.

“Let’s give this another go.”

When the man digs his forefinger under the abrasive rope and yanks it down, over her chin, and then plucks at the outside of the makeshift gag, Seren doesn’t nip at his fingertips. She’d tried that, the first time, but he’d retracted before her teeth could come into contact, his mouth jolting at the fire within her he’d underestimated. She expected a smack, she’d expected her neck to twist as her cheek bruised in response to the attempt, but he’d just stuck his tongue against his cheek, all mirthy, until she’d started to scream. Then he’d gagged her again.

So.

That was a failure.

The second the back of her throat meets the air, rather than the garbling cloth, the young woman starts screaming. Again. He’d kind of expected it. It’s a very lovely attempt, she’s quite loud, and all, but unfortunately, her efforts are sort of moot. That kind of thing tends to happen when you’re miles, and miles, and miles out in the open sea aboard a ship of men who work for the opposing team. Harry would clap if he wasn’t putting on a show of tucking a finger into his ear at her shrill cries. Eventually, he just watches her, letting her scream for a bit, and she holds seething eye contact as her help rises in pitch.

“Okay— alright,” Harry shakes his head, balling the cloth, daubed with her saliva, and shoving it past her lips haphazardly. She attempts to spit, but can only wriggle as he presses the rope back over her mouth like the task is effortless.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. The princess can’t. Harry tuts.

His tone carries notes of amusement when he tells her, “You’re quite pitchy. D’you know that?”

Seren stares him down.

“Have you got rocks in your head?” his lips nearly jolt up at the blunt nature of his own inquiry. They don’t. “I tell you not to scream,” he waves with an arm, “you scream anyways. I say, let’s try one more time, because— you know. Maybe you didn’t get the memo, the first time.”

The princess watches him talk, bemused. He gestures with his arm like a tired parent, stressed and lecturing a menacing, little child.

“And you yell again. So I’m wondering, have you got rocks in your head?”

Seren says nothing. She does wriggle in the restraints, like his question has insulted her enough to launch at him. But she stills when he squats ahead of her, once more, her heart hammering behind her ribcage.

“Who’s going to rescue you?” the pirate asks. It’s obviously rhetorical, and he knows she can comprehend that much. When the roll of her chest slows and she settles back, he can see it in her eyes that his point has left her crestfallen. His mouth quirks, and Harry presses again. “Who?”

When he knows that the message has sunk in, when she stares at the wall behind him, blankly, the only evidence of her consciousness being her glazed over gaze and the flare of her nostrils on every inhale, Harry sighs down at his palms and shakes his head.

“I’d just like a chat.”

Seren twists her head away. As much as the binding over her neck and face allows for, anyways. Harry tuts.

“So glum. You’re alive, aren’t you?” he cocks his head, voice low, “You’re not at the bottom of the sea. Not like your little boat.”

Those words hit a nerve, he can see it in the way she side-eyes him, the flame reignited, kindling in her scorching gaze. The pirate nods down at his hands, twisting a ring with a ruby red gem, like a shitty mockery of a moment of silence.

“It can’t possibly be comfortable, sitting with your mouth full, like that. And you must be thirsty, what with all that saltwater you were gargling,” he raises a shoulder, a coy reasoning to his speech.

Seren doesn’t want his stupid water. He’d probably poison her, have his way, and roll her off the ship, back into the raging waters he’d pulled her from. Harry blinks. She doesn’t offer an inkling to show that she’s willing to comply, but he stands and reaches for the rope, digging the pads of his fingers under the binding, over her cheek. His forefinger brushes the corner of her parted lips.

“Third time’s the charm.”

Though, he doesn’t sound the least bit convincing, not even to his own ears. He cradles the square of cloth between his fingertips and listens to her screams for a moment.

And then he startles her when he starts to harmonize with her screeching pleas. The first one is enough for her vocal chords to stutter, for her to jolt back in her seat, alarmed.

“HELP!” Harry calls, stretching the vowel outweighing her own scream in volume as the young woman’s own dies off, and the princess balks, startling in the ropes at the sound. He takes a pause for a deep breath, and screams again, “HELP!” banging on the wooden beams over the ceiling, bumping with his palm loudly, in an outrageous display that’s clearly meant to taunt. The sound of him striking it, alone, causes her to jump in her restraints.

He’s unhinged. Seren is convinced. Her spine straightens out like an arrow, and her shoulders square as she ogles the bizarre display, watching him strike over the ceiling, the walls, stamp the soles of his boots against the floorboards. After a second, he settles down. His hand is crooked against one of the beams overhead, and his gaze roves over her slowly. Purposefully. The corners of his mouth curl up sardonically.

“It’s not a very nice sound, is it?”

He’s deranged. His screws are loose, Seren decides, her eyes still wide as the racing pace of her heart settles in her chest — but any man who sinks ships for fun, in the open sea, who sails and pillages, and murders innocents with a hunger for riches, has screws loose. These aren’t insightful revelations. Maybe she’d just expected him to be less …bizarre, in their interrogation. He was going to get his answers out of her — they were his, they were going to be, and there’s no kidding about it — but the young woman is unsure of what answers he’s looking for or why. Why, why, why. Why did these pirates sink her boat? It was nothing but a small ferry in comparison to the opposing monster of a galleon. It wasn’t even a merchant ship, there were no riches to be stolen. Ironically, the pirate reaches a hand out, and Seren fidgets until his fingers clasp over her ruby pendant. He lifts it from her skin with prodding fingertips and a gaze of scrutiny.

She won’t give him answers, the princess decides. Whatever dialogue he may want from her, she won’t comply. She doesn’t know what he has in store for her lack of subservience, but she doesn’t care. She will not bend her will for this mangy brute.

“This is a pretty piece.”

Loose tendrils, clumped wetly, sway as she jerks her neck to tug the pendant from his grasp. She fails. His digits twitch and flex over the pendant, and the chain digs into the skin at the back of her neck with the faulty motion. The corners of his mouth quirk up as the princess makes an mmph.

That’s a pretty sound.

“M’not going to steal it. What kind of a man do you take me for? We’re good men here, on this ship,” the pirate declares, a sort of vehement passion to his statement, but the crook of his mouth says it’s an unlikely story.

So do the remnants of her boat, somewhere at the bottom of the sea, Seren thinks dryly. Maintaining eye contact, he lets the pendant settle back between her collarbones. It is a pretty piece, Harry wasn’t lying. Real gold, too — no princess would wear something less. But he’s got no need to pilfer it from her. Every molecule of her being, every cell, will pay out tenfold the cost of the necklace. It’s with that thought that he fixes the gag back into place and leaves her, trussed to that chair in the cabin.

“Ta,” the pirate bids in his slow roam towards the door, a glance aimed over his as he tucks his fingertips into the belt holstering his array of daggers, one handle bejeweled. The look he fixes her is sure, the kind that’s relaxed, but showcases that his word is final and will be the outcome. “Chat soon.”

Fun fact; being tied to a shoddy, little wooden chair for hours on end fucking blows. Especially when your hands are bound, in such a way where the rope weaves through the pegs of the back of the chair, keeping your joints wrung together tightly. It’s really aggravating to have a coarse rope, its weaving splintered with pinprick-y tufts, stuck up over your cheeks to hold some sordid rag in place between your teeth.

It’s safe to say that the experience is not one of Seren’s most favorite past-times. She’s not sure how much time has passed before that heavy wooden door creaks open on its hinges, again. Only a few hours, it must be. The crack of a window behind her hasn’t broken with nightfall, though the light cast through its opening has dimmed, if only a little.

It’s the same pirate as before. All glimmery jade and the bare vale of tanned skin from the unbuttoned sector of his shirt, where she makes out a faint dusting of chest hair, between his pecs.

The princess is still a gorgeous view, in Harry’s opinion. Her thighs are still splayed, but her cream dress has dried some, now, and so has her hair. It’s wild, mussed and frizzy. A half-soaked clump rests over one of her eyes.

“Hello to you, too, darling,” he says in response to the glare she fastens him with through the one that’s visible, like instant daggers. The corners of his mouth crook. He ambles toward her with a steel cup of …something. Something mysterious, something unknown, something she eyes warily up until the point where he’s towering over her. The young woman tears her gaze away, casting it up to his handsome face, instead.

He pries and tucks his digits up under the rope that’s settled over her cheeks and drawn ruddy hues, but he pauses before he pulls it down.

“Y’gonna get loud?”

Seren doesn’t say anything. In fact, she sort of can’t, which is quite nice, Harry thinks, but she doesn’t even make a garbled sound to appease or amuse him. The captain is thankful for what little fragments of peace he’s been granted before he’s forced to endure her ludicrously grating screeching. He weighs his options for a moment, but ultimately, tugs.

Of course, the second he’s pulled the cloth out, the young woman is screaming, of-fucking-course she’s screaming. And at this point, it’s so obviously a ploy to irritate him, and Harry would laugh if the whole display wasn’t so vexing. There’s a tick in his jaw when he sets the lip of the tin cup to her parted, strawberry mouth, roughly — and he wouldn’t be so rough if she wasn’t so fucking loud — and tips. Instantly, that shout is garbled by liquid. It morphs into a cough and a much more tolerable string of sputters, as water leaks over and drenches down her chin, her chest, the front of her dress.

“There we go,” the pirate says, the smooth baritone of his cadence louder over the fit of her coughing, “Attagirl. That’s much better.”

He doesn’t tip more of the beverage into her mouth — a ransom on a princess who’s drowned in her own lungs is worth virtually nothing — and lets her cough and sputter a little longer. She strings together a sequence of breaths he deems good enough, before he smushes the rim of the metal cup back against her bottom lip.

“Drink,” Harry advises and nudges the tin back in a way, again, so that the liquid sloshes and spills out into her open mouth.

This time, she doesn’t cough. She expects it, the water. The princess affixes her top lip lower to siphon the beverage and takes a few swallows. Harry watches her throat bob, and he watches a little rivulet escape, too, dribbling down the corner of her mouth in a little streak. It drips down her chin, down her neck. His pupils follow the trail. He gives her a little break part-way, once the tin is close to empty and her neck is craned back with the swallows. He draws it away. Good. That was good, nice and easy. As easy as it could be, given the circumstances.

Except she fixes him with this horrible glare, again, as he pulls the cup away. This glare that speaks volumes, this glower that should warn him of his error before he lets it happen. Harry doesn’t catch the drift. Only a glimpse of her cheeks puffing before she puckers her lips and spits the remnants at him, coating the bottom-most half of his linen with a mist of the water. His belt too, and a bit of his trousers.

And then her mouth is empty and she’s just scowling at him, head tipped down in a way so that the chunk of her frizzy tendrils settles back over an eye. Harry doesn’t waste a second before angling the cup, miffed, and flinging what little water is left in the cup right back in her face.

And the way her eyes screw shut, the way her lips fall open in silent appall the second he returns the energy, (except, he’s far more polite, in his humble opinion. He doesn’t spit at her like an improper animal), when she’s doused in the chilled liquid, and it coats the face-framing layers of her hair, her lashes, and drips down her chin — that’s the highlight of his day.

He doesn’t instantly fix the gag back into her mouth, or slip the rope back over her irritated skin. He watches her, his jaw set, and when the young woman opens her eyes, she sees that storm brewing, manifesting — the kind she’d only imagined prior, in the flinty green of his irises. Like he’s harnessing his own composure. But then he takes a step back, and just. Leans against the closed door. Like he’s scoping her with his gaze. Like she’s just this shiny thing for his sight to pore over.

And Seren thinks that feels worse than if she were to face the bite of his skin against her own, the swat of his palm against her cheek. She’d rather that, honestly.

Her skin is cold from the water. She’s still sort of reeling that he’d done that, to begin with. He’s drumming the pads of his fingers against his bicep, over the nearly-sheer, cream sleeve of his shirt when he asks, a serious note of authority to the molasses of his speech, “Do you know who I am?”

Seren curbs parroting the question wryly. As much as she’d love to tell him her father will torch the ship he rides upon and hang every member of his crew, him and his stupid fucking dimples included, she’s sure that all she’ll receive in response is a grating twitch of his pink mouth.

“Hm?” he prods, making a show of cupping a palm behind his ear and steering his torso forward a smidge, half-expecting her response to be a series of shrill cries, for the hell of it.

Her answer is not one he expects. Frankly, the man doesn’t expect an intelligible response, the history of her opting for incoherent shouts, considered. But she speaks, afterall. It’s soft in decibel, feminine, and pleasant — her voice, unlike the aimless yelling he’d become accustomed to. Even still, it carries that undeniable note of derision.

Seren tells him, “Someone …terribly disturbed.”

Harry almost can’t help the way his cushiony mouth quirks.

Almost.

“Disturbed?” he scoffs, sardonically mirthy, “She spits at me like a fucking …filthy animal, and I’m disturbed. Aye, I’m disturbed.”

The princess makes daggers with the gaze she sends in his direction. He lets her simmer in the wake of the light insult, for a moment, just drumming over his bicep, his mouth twitching in a kind of way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m the captain of this ship,” Harry supplies softly, jade narrowed.

There’s a twitch to her face then, something that slots by and withers in the blink of an eye. Something like recognition. And, fucking finally, Harry thinks — he can practically hear the angels croon at the crumbs of reception, from her, to his authority.

“That means,” he motions out with the cup, his other arm still crossed, fingers wrapped about his waist now, “I’m in charge.”

His voice is soft-spoken, a croon that spells it out for her, if she hasn’t already caught the drift.

“I’m in charge of this ship. This crew,” he takes a step forward, ducking his chin as his eyebrows tip up a bit, “And you. And that means I’m in charge of what happens to you. So don’t you think it’s in your best interest to behave?”

If he expects her to bow down and kiss the toes of his scuffed boots, the young woman doesn’t bite the bait.

“You’re nothing but a mangy sea brute,” Seren declares, then, her chin held audaciously high, despite the ropes binding over her breasts and the foreboding ocean that sways beyond, with ravenous threat. He could lug her off onto the deck and chuck her off the plank, tied just like this.

He doesn’t.

He just stays leant against the wall, arms crossed over his bare chest.

“Mangy sea brutes,” the pirate weighs her words, nodding slowly as he purses his lips in deliberation. And then his brows pinch together, “that’s quite insulting, actually. I take pride in my appearance, I’ll have you know.”

“Mangy,” the young woman confirms, venom in her tone.

The pirate props himself up and off, taking a languid step, each syllable of his cadence laced with condescension, “Now, rugged—“ and open mouthed smirk, a nudge with his chin, “I’ll accept. You don’t think I spend time in front of the mirror, darling? Mangy. What a rude word. I wasn’t aware that Siren, Princess of Essex was so abrasive.”

There’s a flicker of something in her eyes when they flash to him — something like sharp surprise, mottled with pique. Like she didn’t expect him to know who exactly he was harboring upon his ship. The corners of his mouth crook. She’s seemingly appalled that he’s done his research. The glint of shock is gone, as soon as it shows itself.

“Oh,” the captain takes a slow step forward in this sort of way, as if his body language is entirely meant to taunt her, hand in hand with his tongue, “I see. You thought I didn’t know who you were. Just some nameless, pretty little thing on my ship.”

It’s a purposeful dig — the mispronunciation of her name. It’s only a vowel off, it could be chalked up to simple error, but it’s blatantly to mock her. Really, it’s a funny little dub since she enjoys spending so much screeching like the nuisance of a blaring alarm that just won’t shut off. It’s meant to demean her, to belittle her, because not even her name, blue-blooded and all, is worth correct pronunciation. That’s what she seems to hone on from the whole revelation, Harry finds.

“Seren,” she corrects with bite, that same glower she’d worn prior reincarnated.

The man takes another step. He cups behind his ear, and Seren promises herself that the moment she’s freed, she’ll personally chop off his stupid fucking ear for all the times he’d cupped behind that shell of it that way, so condescending. “What was that?”

“Seren,” the young woman scowls, “Seren, Princess of Essex.”

He pauses, a cinch in his brows with this patronizing nod, like he’s weighing her correction, and then he tells her, motioning with an arm as the cinch relaxes, “Siren, Seren. Tomato, tomato.”

He motions with his palm nonchalantly. She wants to bite at his fingers. She doesn’t.

“How dare you?” the young woman says instead.

Harry’s mouth quirks. How dare he? What a pompous inquiry, molded by prissy lips.

“How dare I?” the pirate repeats, and then just lifts his shoulder in a casually apathetic shrug. He takes a third step forward, raspberry lips smug and curled, “I just… dare.”

And before the princess can voice her obnoxious protest, he shoves the cloth into her mouth and tugs up the rope, plucking a garbled sound of anger from her in the process.

The silence is wonderful.

By the time Harry returns to her for the third time, it’s well past nightfall. Light stops leaking from the crack of the window. Seren watches the shift, the way it rolls as the hours tick by, in the room. It morphs from behind her, its bright gold slipping into a darker orange, mottled with pink, and then dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer, as minutes leak away, until all that’s left is dusk and the glow of the moonlight.

The door creaks. She almost doesn’t see it, but she hears the pad of his boots over the wood and twists her neck to catch the sight of his legs as he steps through the threshold.

“Honey, I’m home,” the pirate calls.

Her eyes strain their sockets to catch the moonlight cresting off his cheekbones as his head dips, the dimpling that rises awake beside the corners of his mouth as they turn up at his own jest. He’s holding something. The captain winds around her, through the coat of darkness, and settles somewhere she can’t see. A thump, like something being set onto a table. Then, soft breaths fill the void of the silence. A strike of a match. Her eyes are forced to adjust to a warm, buttery glow as the little beam of fire, merged to a lantern, and then another, sends gold bouncing wall to wall.

That’s when Harry sees that she's managed to make a home for herself on the floor, the chair she’s been restrained to tipped on its side. He almost doesn’t think anything of it, for a split second, but then, as the pads of his digits work buttons through their slits to disrobe, the pirate casts his gaze up for a double take. A twisted coil of satisfaction blooms in his chest as he observes her, the thought that whatever faulty maneuver she’d made to escape had resulted in this, and, well. That makes something joyful and mean bud.

Seren listens to his boots, the step of them slow against the floorboards, until she sees him towering over her, in her peripherals. Her pupils shift.

“Comfortable?” his brows climb with emphasis. The work of his fingertips over the buttons on his shirt are sluggish. Tired. She notes that motion, too — that fact that he’s actively shedding clothes. Nonchalantly. And it must show in her eyes, then. Something vulnerable, something uncomfortable, something raw, and petrified, because, yeah, she’s a petulant, little princess strapped to a chair in his cabin, against her will, and she fights him tooth and nail in every instance that he comes to visit her. But she’s a princess strapped to a chair, against her will, and it’s nightfall, and his skin is growing more bare, square inch by square inch, as the seconds pass.

He must note that — whatever that shows, because the quirk of his priorly mirthy, strawberry mouth slips a tad. And then his features shape something relaxed. Something tired, again. Like he’s too worn.

The sarky comment has those same traces of exhaustion seeping into it as his dismissive gaze disengages, honing on the work of his digits as he loops the final button through, “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. You’re not my type.”

The cloth slips apart, showcasing more skin. A line of hair from below his belly button, in soft, dark wisps that melts off behind his belt. Sturdy muscles of his abdomen that ripple as he moves, chin ducked—

His palms cup over the belt of holsters, and that clinks as he discards it, too, winding around to, she assumes, set it somewhere. And then, more skin to pore over when he returns, the sharp cut of a V, decorated with laurels, emphasized by the low hang of his trousers. He cocks his head down at her, like he’s contemplating. Contemplating what, Seren’s unsure. He moves out of her line of sight again.

Her arm aches. She’d tipped over onto it what felt like hours ago, and it’d taken the brunt of the fall, lodged against the side of the chair with the situation of her joints being married in the bindings, behind her. She’d managed to roll forward on her shoulder, just a tad, so that the press against it wasn’t constant, but it still fucking hurt. Her palms, down to the tips of her digits, were numb, she had this heinous crick in her neck, and she’s sure that the moment she’s able to stand her tailbone will hurt like hell. If she’s ever allowed to stand again. Maybe he’ll hurl her into the open ocean, strapped to this godforsaken chair, afterall.

For now, he just hauls her up. His touch — warm — skims the opposite arm before his palm wraps over the beam over the back of the chair and tugs, leveling her with ease. The young woman squeaks against the gag as she hovers, terrified to drop straight onto the limb again. She doesn’t. The pirate sets her straight with a tired grunt. His sight scales her arm, the one she’d toppled onto, and Seren can’t see, but she assumes it’s not in the most pristine condition. And then his touch smooths over the ache, a crease over his brow bone as his eyes pry, and she bristles.

His mouth twitches, but it’s tired. Tired after having to deal with her, tired from whatever he’d spent his time doing beyond the cabin. Tired after sinking her ship and taking her hostage, Seren thinks bitterly. How exhausting. And Harry takes his hand away.

From her new, upright view, she can see that little metal cup — the same one he’d brought her hours earlier. He’s set it onto the table, and she knows it wasn’t there before, which means he’s brought it with new water. Seren turns her head to face it. It’s the most she can manage given that she can’t tell him what she wants, what with the gag and all.

“Thirsty?” he notes, chin over his shoulder in her direction as he shimmies the sleeves of his shirt off. Seren eyes the expanse of naked skin as it expands, from cuts of muscle to ink sunk into the flesh of his arm. Certainly, if she wasn’t before.

The princess doesn’t answer. She can’t, and she’s not going to resort to a string of pathetic hums to get his attention. The captain sets his shirt onto the table in a pile of disarray, beside his belt, and takes the cup. When he makes his way over to her, Seren’s eyes don’t follow his figure. And for a moment, there’s only a deliberative sort of silence. She doesn’t look until he talks, until his tone is far more serious than she’s heard thus far.

“If you spit it at me again, I will personally make sure you lick it back up, off the floorboards.”

And wisely, she doesn’t spit the liquid back up at him when he tugs the gag free and tips the rim of the cup against her mouth. Seren doesn’t doubt he’s the type of man to follow through on his words. But that’s not why she drinks — she drinks because she’s fucking thirsty. Her tongue’s gone dry, and the back of her throat pinpricks with an uncomfortable soreness, and because the lukewarm liquid feels good spilling down her throat. She cranes her neck back, throat bobbing, and doesn’t stop until he’s pulled the cup away himself, and a little rivulet of water dribbles down the corner of her mouth. She takes a big gulp of air and expels it.

And then, with angry sorts of eyes, the princess declares, “I’m hungry.”

“You’re hungry,” the pirate mirrors, but it’s only wryly amused — his tired, sardonic smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and he sets the cup back onto the table with little urgency to get her food. “We don’t offer room service.”

“You haven’t fed me once today,” Seren declares indignantly when he winds behind her, out of sight. And then there’s a sigh and a creak, the kind that seeps from mattress springs compressing. “This is— this is cruel, I’ll have you know. This is torture, this is—“

“Thank you for your honest review, we’ll make sure to take your feedback into account,” Harry chimes at her in true, facetious fashion, scrubbing over his eyes with a palm as he knees his way onto the bed. And then the pirate tells her, with a more serious note to his drawl, before she has a chance to interject with another complaint, “If you’re going to talk all night, I’m going to put your gag back in until the morning.”

Seren doesn’t say anything. Finally, she doesn’t say anything at all, and it’s splendid. It’s peace and quiet, and all he hears, for a perfect moment, is the creak of the wood and the subdued roar of the waves.

“I don’t want to stare at the wall,” the princess speaks, eventually, like a petulant child. “Why am I staring at the wall?”

“Because …that’s the way the chair’s facing,” Harry responds, matter-of-factly and almost instantly, sure that a note of irritation has managed to teem into the words despite his best efforts. He will not let her know that her efforts of poking are chipping at his composure, he won’t.

And for another moment, Seren doesn’t say anything. He lets his eyes drift shut.

“I want to face you,” the princess says, eventually, and her tone implies she’s taken the bridge of silence to build the phrase up into something more demanding, something royal and authoritative. If he wasn’t so fucking tired he’d laugh.

“You want to watch me sleeping?” she hears the pirate from behind her, his honey-smooth drawl grown raspy and lower from, seemingly, exhaustion, “That’s an odd request.”

Her brows furrow as a scowl paints her mouth. The bed creaks in the gap of quiet. Every hair stands on end when, suddenly, he’s inches from her, his presence looming and warm from behind, with calloused fingertips brushing the side of her neck in their venture towards that godforsaken gag.

“Just turn me!” Seren shrieks, “Just turn me, and I’ll be quiet!”

He doesn’t put the gag in. He winds around her, hand still on the rope, his features shaped with apathetic seriousness, “If I turn you because you want me to turn you, what good am I at putting my foot down? Hm?”

Seren blinks up at him.

“Please,” the princess tells him, hushed and earnest, “I don’t feel …safe.”

His brows twitch. There’s something that blooms in the jade at her admission, but it flits by, gone as quickly as it’d appeared. And then his brows furrow, and he looks absolutely exasperated, the subtle downturn at the edges of his mouth emphasized with the roll of that same jade. The pirate scoffs, and his boots stomp over the wood, each step an inclination that his frustration has leaked into his body language.

“I told you—“ the legs of the chair screech against the floorboards — he doesn’t even grunt as he maneuvers her with ease, the motion rough like it’s a chore, “—that you’re not my type. Not everybody wants to fuck you, your highness.”

Seren blinks, pupils poring over the priorly unseen sight of the opposite end of the room. A slit of a window, brushing the edge of the wall that merges into the ceiling. A bookshelf of literature and knickknacks. A dresser, a queen-sized mattress on the floor. The pirate still looks absolutely miffed when he walks toward the table with the lantern, bare shoulders squared and the muscles in his back rippling. He sets the light out, kicks off his boots, and falls into the bed unceremoniously.

It’s a victory.

And for a moment, Seren thinks he’s just going to wordlessly roll over to avoid her prying gaze. He doesn’t do that. They bask in the crash of the waves outside, the darkness, and their quiet breaths. He’s got this knack — Seren’s learned. This skill of morphing from sarcastic and teasing to broodingly serious, and it’s mercurial, sort of. She wonders if this brooding side’s what’s brought him to lead an entire ship.

“Be quiet now,” the pirate drawls from the sheets, in that broodingly serious cadence, “If I hear another word, I’ll personally carry you out onto the deck, and you can sleep in the chair out there.”

The man rolls over to face the wall. Seren doesn’t say another word for the rest of the night.

#pirate!harry #pirate au #piraterry #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #dom harry styles #harry styles #harry styles dirty fanfiction #enemies to lovers #harry styles enemies to lovers

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goldsbitch · 1 month

Text

Just don't talk-------

-before I get my story straight.

p9 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. And it's getting really hard keeping it a secret.

It was only lately that Lando started to notice when people watched and flirted with Y/N. Not the fans exactly, but VIP people roaming around the paddock, engineers and anyone falling into a similar category. How did not see this before? It felt like it was everyone and all the time.

That was of course far from the truth, but when one is crushing hard on somebody, it's hard to realize that the rest of the world might not see your desired person in the same light.

He observed her from afar - she practically glowed. Standing in the shade, talking to some guy. He was so focused on watching her that he noticed only later that he knew very well who that guy was - and it was not a pleasant discovery. Out of all the people around, she managed to get talking to a guy that was as far away from being good news as possible. Lando's father rarely gave him advice, but he made sure to highlight to Lando years ago that this guy came from a very dodgy family that was known for attracting dangerous people. Formula 1 attracted lots of rich people and many of them were just not safe company.

He really tried to focus on his data charts and prepare for practice, but that was virtually getting impossible. Y/N wasn't racing today, as a reserve driver was assigned to the session today. So she stood there, in a cure dress, without a care in the world, getting wrapped in the charm of that fucking guy.

That's it - he had enough and his own self-control took a vacation, as he excused himself and marched down her end of the paddock.

Y/N understood that there were important people attending the races. One would never know how much important sometimes, so she made sure be friendly with everyone who was introduced to her, so that she didn't accidentally close any doors. But sometimes, it was a quest of getting out of the conversation as fast as possible. Creepy, overly friendly strangers, who felt like they were entitled to her attention, just because they were part of the sponsors. She had yet to figure out how to get out of these smoothly. Once again, she was stuck in this type of conversation she had no interest in being in at the first place. So she nodded and smiles.

"I can't accept this," she tried to reject a gift, incredibly expensive watch that this person was trying to put on her hand. He was towering over her and she felt slightly intimidated.

"Oh, hello, Y/N!" was a loud and obnoxious interruption from her current secret crush - Lando. He stormed in and yet again inserted himself into a conversation he was not part of. This time, she was relieved to hear his voice and feel his presence behind her.

"Ah, morning Norris." The guy, who's name she forgot, gave Lando a very cold greeting and extended his right hand into a handshake. Lando shook his hand and noticed the watch and his blood boiled even more. Expensive, but cheap tactics to get her under his spell.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to steal Y/N for a moment - we have some media obligations to attend. Sincerest apologies," he said, not even trying to make it sound convincing. Both of the men knew what kind of a game was at play.

"Ah, busy life of a driver," he said, smiling at Y/N once again. It took Lando all that he had not to physically step between them. "Please, accept this small gift from my family. It's a token of gratitude of what you do for the team," he turned to Y/N once again and tried to get a hold of her hand. This time, Lando did stop him and looked him dead in the eye.

"Ah, that is sweet. But I believe she is contractually obligated to wear only certain brands of watches, correct, Y/N?"

Lando burned with a "don't you fucking dare" stare, one that she'd only seen on his face when she'd stop wanking him out of nowhere before he could finish, just to tease him. It was a very different setting and Y/N was more that happy to nod.

"Sadly, that is true. Though it is very pretty!"

Lando mind screamed with disbelief. Was she for real? Pretty?

He was set on getting them out asap. "We really need to get going. Hope I'll see you again soon." NOT.

"Of course. Please, Norris, say hi to your father. Would like to invite him for a dinner sometime," he responded nonchalantly.

"I definitely will," Lando replied with a crooked smile as he dragged Y/N out without letting her say goodbye. It was a habit for him to pick the least visible path around the paddock. He did not need any prying eyes as he held her hand firmly while sprinting away.

"Lando, slow the fuck down!" she whispered, trying to keep up with him. Normally, Lando would throw in a racing joke, but he was really not in the mood.

"If you wanna a fucking watch, I’ll buy you a watch. With no strings attached," he said, hoping that she'd get his message without him needing to explain it.

Yes, great. No strings attached again. Perfect.

Y/N was happy when Lando came to save her. She thought that he saw her being uncomfortable and decided to save her. But apparently no. It was just a male ego game.

"But what if I want strings attached? What if I want to know you family, friends and be there for the good and the bad?" she almost said outloud - but did not.

"I don't want any watch," she replied eventually.

Lando was annoyed even more now. She was acting all naive again, same as when there was the cloud of confusion about her future in F1. How could someone be so smart and so clueless at the same time? Why did he even care about her getting in trouble? They walked in silence for a moment. Both trying to get out of this rut.

"You look great, by the way," he said to ease the tension. The dress was distracting him from the fact he was somewhat mad at her. Her cleavage pushed up just enough for his liking. He couldn't wait to fuck her again. And preferably to cuddle also afterwards. He had start working on that too. Getting these other men out of her head.

"Thank you," she said, unable to prevent her cheeks from blushing. He missed that, as he walked fast like a mad man. "Where are we going exactly?" she asked as she rushed slightly behind Lando.

"Somewhere private."

He dragged through the side entrance into the McLaren space, at some point even reaching for her hand to keep her close. Luckily, they hadn't raised any alarm passing by on the way to his driver room. Her heart was beating slightly faster than his.

Lando was rilled up after watching the guy flirt with her so shamelessly. She was way better than those people. Precious. His.

He swiftly opened the door, let her in and then locked it. She was looking at him with her doe eyes, looking all cute and sweet. Not her usual look. There was tenderness in her face.

"I like you in dresses," he said as he walked closer to her.

"Do you now?"

He nodded and took a strand of her hair and put it behind her ear. She batted her eyes and that was when he lost it. There was just so much about her that he was attracted to - he wanted to know everything. What were her desires? Darkest fantasies? What made her shiver? What made her scream in pleasure. He knew lots of things, from all of their "practice sessions" they'd have. But this was more about her mind then body. He wanted to mind fuck her into becoming obsessed with him. To hell with healthy.

He picked her up, sat her on a table, put his hand on the back of her neck and slammed his mouth onto hers. She gasped, slightly suprised, but quickly opened her mouth and invited him in. They way she sat there, legs slightly open, was driving him mad. She wrapped around his torso and Lando felt his growing cock hitting his suit. She smiled, knowing well enough what she was doing to him. He moved to kiss her neck, trying to avoid making a mark, but it was so hard when she was moaning so beautifully. He squeezed her boobs, after having to stay away from them the moment he saw the dress hugging her tightly. It was passionate, yet every touch came not only with eagerness but also care. He had selfish thought - but not about making himself feel good, but about being the one who made her feel great. He was about to put his hand under her skirt and tease her more, but his actions were interrupted by the other door opening.

"Fuck," he said, burying his head into her neck. He forgot to lock the door to Oscar's room. "Osc! Hello mate. Get out."

Oscar stood there, more annoyed than confused. "Mate, I don't care about what you do, but half of the team is looking for you."

Y/N was mortified. They really should be more careful.

"Great. I'm coming in a moment," Lando said to Oscar, visibly irritated.

"Again, I can see that, but we need you at the engineer room." Oscar joked, but as he saw that Lando was looking for something to throw at him, he backed away. "Joking, joking. And also leaving. Hi, Y/N," he waved at her awkwardly.

"Hey," she responded, utterly humiliated. "Can you please keep this between us?" she asked quietly.

Lando was hurt by the shame he heard in her voice. Was she ashamed by being seen with him?

"I was never here," was Oscar's simple reply as he walked out the way he came in. Yet again, another moment of silent tension.

"Lando, this is getting out of hand," she said, after analysing how much her hormones dictated her actions. Even now, after being caught by Oscar, the only thing she wished for was to see Lando's eyes closing while coming and his body getting all tense - as it usually did.

He was flustered and went into damage control mode. He had good faith in Oscar and his confidentiality. It was here her that he was worried about. Cold feet. Not now, not when started to become sure himself and what he actually wanted. "I know, I know." He wanted to stay there with and talk, figure shit out. But he had responsibilities. And these things were better not rushed. And he was a good ol' chicken anyway. "Y/N, please stay calm and don't do any rushed decision. I gotta run now, but let's put a pause and resume soon. Does that work for you?"

How could she do anything else when he his intense stare was making her melt. Raw honesty in the air.

"Of course."

"Good," he said and kissed her goodbye. As if he had done that thousand times before.

He rushed away and she sat there for good two minutes before making any move. One thought skipping over another.

p10

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak @chonkybonky @bicchaan @saachiep81

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cathedral-of-sinners · 8 months

Note

I humbly request a Tighnari NSFW alphabet please whenever you're free and if you're willing to dear author!

Tighnari, Tighnari, Tighnari, Ti-

For him, I'm always willing <3 (being free and having motivation was a different story though lol)

CW: gn!reader (no pronouns/genitalia mentioned), reader can be either sub/dom and top/bottom depending on the letter, creampie (C)

— Tighnari: Full Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's deliciously buzzed, so high on cloud nine that he doesn't want to come down. His head will drop to rest on your shoulder or in the crook of your neck, trying desperately to inhale as much of your scent as possible. You’ll even catch his tail flicking gently like a happy puppy’s would, something you can't ever bring up outside of the moment or else he'll never recover (not to mention the teasing Cyno would bring if he ever somehow heard of this habit lmao). Once he's collected himself though he grows insanely soft, ears relaxing as he places a kiss on your forehead, asking if anything hurts or if you want anything. Food, some water, medicine or a warm/cool cloth, he had it all set up on the nightstand before you started and reaches for what he needs before curling up beside you, tail wrapping around you in some way.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of their partners)

Your shoulders and arms! Adores when you wrap your arms around him both in and out of the bedroom, their presence something he simply really enjoys. Loves when he can bury his nose in your shoulders too, careful though, he's a biter ;)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Addicted to cumming inside or on your stomach. The way his seed dribbles and dots your skin makes his head swirl - as for inside? He could pass out from how good it feels to stuff you full <3

D = Dirty Secret

Has very big thoughts and feelings about teasing you all day with a toy. Wants you to roam the forest or into the city as he stays and does some paperwork in his home, the knowledge that you're no doubt struggling to keep it together until you get back at the forefront of his mind. By the time you get home he can smell the arousal dripping from you as he turns and smirks. Don't worry, he rewards generously to well behaved individuals :)

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

Honestly could see him as both a virgin and not. Like, there's the idea that he's not interested in sex at all during his studies and then when he became a Forest Watcher there was both no time and no one that piqued his interest. But then I think he could also be the kind to have a one-night type thing once or twice while he was in school. He’s an I do want when I want kinda guy in some ways after all.

THEN AGAIN!! Fennec foxes mate for life sooooo, there’s that… but other than that he’s had plenty of moments when the topic came up in his research or conversations he’s overheard (both willing and unwillingly), therefore he’s really only lacking in the practice aspect.

F = Favourite Position

Lotus!! This is mainly because of how close the position makes you both, chests pressed up against one another, every breathe felt and every noise of pleasure heard. Plus, like mentioned before, it lets Tighnari rest his head on the crook of your neck, drowning him in everything that is you.

A close second is doggy style.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

He’s sassy no matter where he is (man has no fear honestly) so I’m damn certain he’ll unintentionally (or even intentionally) be funny during the moment. For the most part though he’s pretty serious.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

*chef's kiss* he is very well-groomed. Tighnari takes extremely good care of both his ears and fluffy tail, so it’s only right he takes equal care down below. Firm believer that his pubes are the same shade as his tail and not a mix like his hair or solid black. Pretty clean shaven, the thinnest of bushes present.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

He can be very romantic when he wants to be!! Holds your hand, kisses you all across the face, down your neck, across your chest, he’ll whisper praise and compliments in your ear, all the things like that!

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t jerk off much simply because he doesn’t feel the need to. The only times he would are if you’re not available (like out of town unavailable) or if he’s in a rut and you’re just taking too long to come home :((

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Marking: He's a bitter like I said but Tighnari also likes to admire the scratches left on both of you after an intense round. Really likes to trace them with his eyes as you both cuddle or as he takes care of them.

Breeding: I’m totally not adding this because of his fennec fix urges lmao (I am a little), but it doesn’t matter what you got downstairs, your hole will be stuffed with his cum to the point of overflowing.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Tighnari isn't picky about where you do it but he favors the bedroom slightly above the rest. It's just far more comfortable and there's less of a chance of being interrupted by a patrolling Forest Ranger or some random hiker

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Let him drown in your scent and he's yours. Also, he’s really sensitive when you kiss or drag your tongue over his Adam’s Apple ;)

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He likes the risk but he's not stupid enough to risk your safety. He likes to play around with strange mushrooms and flowers but if he doesn't know everything about them - effects, antidotes, the like - then he's not bringing it around you. (But that’s honestly what any good lover would do).

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Honestly??? He’s got no preference. However, there is one pro when it comes to sucking him off: you get to see his ears cutely twitch.

A natural when he goes down on you. It’s partially due to his boldness and lack of hesitation. With minimal kitten licks, he dives right in like he might die if he doesn’t get a taste of you right that second. Bonus points when he looks up at you through his lashes too - it's really a sight to behold.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He's honestly a mixed bag, he can go either way most days. It also depends on the circumstances: did you tease him? How much time do you both have on your hands? What are your preferences in the moment? As a default though he leans slightly more on the fast side.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

"Really? Now? Right before I'm suppose to leave for patrol?" He'll act like it's an inconvenience but really he doesn't mind. If either you or he are feeling needy before one of you have to leave or are expecting company he's not opposed to busting out a quick round. Just to satisfy you both until later where you have all night to play.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Again, dude's got no fear. Can and will fuck anywhere he wants (with your consent of course). Forest? Hell yeah. In the Akademiya? Oh how it’d piss the higher-ups off! Tighnari also doesn’t mind introducing new things he thinks you might like or something he wants to try, always opening up with “there’s something I’d like to try, if you’d let me?”.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Tighnari in heat can go for what feels like forever even though it’s really only a mighty 7 or 8 rounds. When he’s not in heat however, the Forest Watcher averages about three. He’s always able to take some time before orgasming.

T=Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

KINKY TIGHNARI 🥵😫 (I thought it once and I’m never going to let it go, it’s permanently stuck in my head)

Owns every fucking toy under the sun (exaggeration but damn close to the truth). Loves using them and doesn’t mind bringing them into the bedroom with you either. For himself, has a favourite combo between a dildo and a cock ring (vibrating or not doesn’t matter to him). He just fucking loves bouncing on it, hitting that one sweet spot with the added stimulation from the ring.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nodding my head vigorously. He so loves to tease you. “What? Did you really think I was going to touch you? Just like that? You’ve got me all wrong.”

Fucking loves teasing your nipples too. No explanation, it is what it is.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

If you manage to catch him off guard he’ll moan really loudly and slutty before growing red at the lewd sound ;) Tighnari whines and whimpers more than he does moan. He’s usually not too load but when he gets lost in pleasure, drunk on you, he can get pretty loud that people passing by will hear it

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Enjoys seeing you in lingerie and would die a happy fox if you surprised him in a black set, body draped along his bed as you await for him to unwrap his unexpected gift.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Average length, ‘bout 5 to 5 and a half inches. Definitely has a little more girth to it though. Has a prominent vein that travels along the side of his dick. Is a grower.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Not overly high, like it’s there but its also not. Before meeting you and before things in Sumeru calmed down there was just so much to do. Withering Zones, Elezar, the Akademiya constantly bothering him, the list goes on. The only time it's high is during the season *wink wink*

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

After catching his breath, going through the motions of caring for you both and finally laying down, Tighnari is asleep after 10 to 20 minutes, provided there’s minimal post-sex talk. He doesn’t mind chatting so if you do then he’s out after about 45 minutes.

Tag list: Not a Soul

If you'd liked to be tagged in any future works lmk via comment, DM or my askbox!

#tighnari x reader #tighnari x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #tighnari x gender neutral reader #genshin tighnari #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact tighnari #tighnari smut #—val writes

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stareaterau · 7 months

Text

Chapter 1 episode 2

←Previous episode

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Index

---

Let me introduce you to our cowboy, as he takes a trip

CW: injury and description of broken bones

Read below↓

Or AO3

A lonely cowboy trudges through the desert, bleary-eyed and hatless. His name is Jimmy.

He woke up not too long ago, face down in the sand and alone. The grains refuse to budge from their places buried between the colourful feathers on his face. With a sigh, he stops trying to scratch at the feathers to dislodge them, resigning himself to the permanent itch. It wouldn’t have helped for long anyways, the wind would soon blow more sand back into the gaps in his feathers, along with just about every other part of his lanky body. Jimmy coughs, dust coating the back of his throat. He pulls up his red bandana, from where it rests around his neck, to protect the lower half of his face. He’s not a stranger to waking up in the desert, it’s always been tempting for him to nap between the dunes, shielded from the winds and the distractions of Tumble Town. These are not those dunes. The land is flat, aside from a cracked layer of earth. The sun beats down on every surface, with next to no trees or bushes to offer much needed shade. Jimmy frowns, trying to recall the events that led him here. He must’ve fallen asleep on his horse and fallen off. He had been riding for a while… and it wouldn’t be the first time. Although, how he didn’t wake up when he fell is still a mystery to him. Maybe he fell head first. The horse must’ve wandered off while he was out… with all his belongings attached to their saddle.

And then there’s the beeping. It started off infrequently, only sounding every couple minutes. Jimmy thought he’d imagined it at first, that maybe he got heat stroke from sleeping under the sun for so long, but he reasoned that it’s far too consistent to be a hallucination. He’s not sure if that even makes sense, but it’s clearly speeding up and slowing down depending on the direction that he’s walking, so he’s sure that it’s leading him somewhere.

His running theory is that, somehow, the beeping is leading him to his horse, who, hopefully, has not managed to lose his stuff in the middle of this vast desert. Or, if not his horse, then whoever has found his belongings. If that’s the case, he hopes they’re friendly— he’s been robbed a few times and he’s not all that excited to add another experience to the list. Jimmy’s second, and just as unlikely, theory is that he’s being led towards water. That somehow he picked up some kind of water detector and managed to forget about it. He thinks this one might just be wishful thinking… or both of them may be.

There’s only one way to find out, and he’s familiar enough with this type of environment to know that meaningless wandering isn’t going to help him.

The beeping increases steadily the further he treks across the sands, dragging his sore, bird-like feet. The makeshift shoes he cut from an old pair of boots, so that they could fit, do a poor job of protecting him from the scorching earth. The more wiry trees and bushes cross his path, the more certain he becomes that he’s in a completely different desert than the one he calls home. He’s never been much of an expert in flora, but he knows he’s never seen these plants before. Their branches are thorny and muddy red, unlike the ones he’s used to. Hell, he doesn’t think he’s seen a single cactus. He probably would have tried to cut it down to see if it was edible if he had.

Despite the beeping leading Jimmy in a straight direction, he has to carefully wind his way through the desert, walking around the trenches that split the ground for miles. He almost broke his ankle in one of the shallower cracks earlier when he misjudged its depth. He pays more attention to them now, observing as they slowly grow deeper and wider, creating the chasms that lead on and on until into the dust clouds and heat waves.

Jimmy misses his hat. He will never again take its wide brim for granted, and how it blocked the harsh sun. His eyes hurt. He thought he’d have more time before the sun reached its peak, but the star moved much faster than expected. Jimmy is tempted to reason that the difference is because he’s on an entirely different planet, rather than just an unfamiliar part of the desert. A planet that rotates significantly faster than the one he calls home. But he’s not thinking that, because how could that even happen? How would he get back home? No, he lost track of time. He’s just been walking for longer than he thought. Jimmy has been living in the desert for years now, and has grown used to the heat— the feeling of feathers damp with sweat and covered in sand is a familiar sensation— but the temperature is starting to get to him. The lack of shade and water make it impossible to find a moment of relief.

The beeping grows faster, and he searches for a change in the landscape around him. The ground remains an empty plane, with nothing but the deep, wide fissures marking its surface. He’s starting to hope the beeping might be leading him to a settlement, rather than his horse. At least then he'll be able to get out of the sun.

Zoning back into the beeping, Jimmy realizes it’s slowed, a notable gap forming between each sound. Whatever he’s been walking towards must’ve changed directions, or maybe he just walked past it somehow. Looking around, nothing has changed. He hasn’t even seen animals skittering across the sand, no lizards— or alien lizard equivalents— basking under the hot sun. Trying to reorientate himself, Jimmy begins to test the beeps, listening for which directions make it speed up. But it keeps shifting. The beeping then speeds up to its fastest speed yet, the separate beeps bleeding into one sound before stopping completely, only for it to start up again a moment later. Maybe it’s leading him somewhere vertically? He looks up.

He starts walking, keeping his eyes on the sky, hoping it might reveal something new to him, but he foolishly loses track of the topography. Before he knows it, one foot sinks into unsteady ground, then the other finds nothing but air, and he’s falling.

Reflexively, he holds his arms in front of him, hoping helplessly that it will slow his plunge into the cavernous ravine.

An old reflex cries out. One long forgotten and useless. He tries to listen.

First there’s the hiss of sand, pattering over the surface below. Then a sickening crack as Jimmy lands on his outstretched arm. Pain shoots through his side.

He opens his mouth to yell, but he’s interrupted by another scream, next to him.

Scrambling to the wall and clutching his injured arm, Jimmy’s mind works on pure adrenaline as he tries to push through the pain, and wills his vision clear enough for him to see his new company.

The figure curled on the floor mirrors him, clutching their own arm to their chest.

Their body is covered in a light yellow fur, which darkens to a reddish brown at the tips of their limbs. Their fiery hair and tail flicker wildly with distress— a blazeborn. They’re wearing a torn sleeveless shirt, with a thick, dark coat tied around their waist. Why anyone would carry a coat like that out here, Jimmy cannot understand.

Their bright yellow eyes are wide like suns, shining right at Jimmy. They let out a quavery wheeze.

Jimmy shakes his head, fending off the delirium.

He coughs a pained, bitter laugh. His ribs ache. “...Hello?”

“Are you okay?” They manage back, looking and sounding like they’re in just as much pain as he is.

“Are you okay?” Jimmy nods pointedly to their broken arm. He can see its misshapen form from here. He doesn’t want to imagine what his own arm looks like.

The blazeborn shuffles tentatively towards him, making sure to not move their arm.

“I don't know- I don't know how it happened. You just fell and then I felt-”

Jimmy's eyes snap open with the realization. “Did I fall on you?! I’M SO SORRY!!”

“No no, you fell nowhere near me-” they shake their head, whining slightly, just as Jimmy feels a pulse of pain and bites back a wince himself.

With that, the look on their face morphs from concern to confusion. They shift closer to him, close enough that Jimmy can see the slight blue wisps in their warm flames. This might be the first time he’s been this close to a blazeborn. He always thought they’d give off more heat than this.

They don’t meet his gaze though, their attention directed elsewhere.

Gently, they pull their good arm from where it rests on their chest. Before Jimmy can question them, they tap his injured arm. A bolt of pain shoots through his body— he pulls back violently.

“OW!! THAT HURTS!” he yells, but his anger dissipates once he spots the blazeborn grimacing from their own pain. They blink rapidly, fighting through the daze. When it passes, they focus on Jimmy with an apologetic expression.

“This sounds crazy, but I think we're- connected.”

“What?! What are you on about?” Jimmy barks, confusion and pain leading easily into anger.

“Look, if I-”

Jimmy catches them by the wrist as they make another move to prod him.

“If you poke me one more time I swear-” Jimmy threatens in his best attempt at an authoritative tone, tightening his grip on their arm, challenging them.

They pause, considering him for a moment. Their eyes, without a trace of fear, flick down to Jimmy’s arm before returning to meet his gaze. They seem to be more intrigued than anything.

“Okay, okay, how about you poke me, then.” They direct his hand over to their injured arm.

"W-why?" Jimmy squawks, resisting.

“You'll feel the same thing. If my guess is right, at least.”

The way they laugh afterwards doesn't exactly fill Jimmy with much confidence. It reminds him of a mad scientist excited to test their hypothesis regardless of their questionable, painful methods. The logic makes his head spin; the stranger’s certainty is a jarring contrast. He feels like he’s out of the loop about something.

”....Okay. Are you sure?”

They grin wildly at him, their sharp teeth on full display.

“Go ahead, I'm giving you permission.”

“HM.” Jimmy hums with audible suspicion, baffled as to why someone would willingly feel that kind of pain. Stumped, he grants them their wish. As gently as he can, he pokes them.

His own arm blooms with pain. The same white hot pain. He pulls back, gasping, faint from the unexpected sting.

“What- WHAT THE HECK-'' Jimmy cries, hugging his arm closer to his chest. Nothing touched him, but that’s not how it felt. His poor arm pulses with pain, and he stares at the blazeborn.

They huff out a couple unsteady breaths, clearing their head before meeting Jimmy’s stricken look with another weak grin. How someone can smile in this situation is beyond Jimmy, and how this stranger’s grin grows wider with each passing second is completely unfathomable. Finally, they explode with laughter.

“AHAH- Welp, this is definitely a weird situation!”

“How-” Jimmy falters, his worry deepening. “Who are you?”

The blazeborn casually pushes themself up against the wall, sitting down next to him. They wipe the sand off their hand onto their coat.

“No idea, and the name’s Tango.”

He smiles up at Jimmy, more genuinely.

“…Jimmy.” He replies, finding the time to properly take in Tango’s appearance beyond the minimum.

Jimmy’s eyes flicker to something tied at the blazeborn’s waist. It was a pair of big, bulky boots. He watches Tango kick at the dust with his bare feet. No wonder he isn't wearing them. They look more suited to insulating the cold and snow, rather than the scorching heat of a desert.

An awkward silence falls over the two, both of them trying to process their situation, and grimacing internally from their pain. Jimmy rests his tail over his own feet, fanning the end towards him to battle the heat. He's not particularly sure what to say, especially to a stranger who is, by some unexplainable magic, connected to him. Fortunately for him, he doesn't have to go first.

“So, Jimmy… What got you here?” Tango breaks the silence.

“I fell.” He replies dumbly, not registering the question completely.

Tango spits out a laugh. “No, I mean- in this desert.”

Jimmy shrugs, recalling all he can. “I don't know… I don't remember.”

He’s beginning to accept that maybe his horse and all his belongings aren’t on this planet at all.

He yawns, “I was just following the beeps-”

His head slips against the wall behind him, neck lolling as a wave of exhaustion hits him.

“Hey, hey, buddy- stay awake for me.” Tango reaches over, snapping his good hand in front of Jimmy and chuckling nervously.

“Mmm… sorry.” Jimmy rubs his eyes, blinking blearily at the blazeborn. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same.” Tango affirms. “I was following the beeps through the caves and ravines, and then I stumbled upon you- or more like, you stumbled and-” Tango gestures to the top of the ravine, reenacting Jimmy's fall with his hand, complete with cartoonish sound effects.

Jimmy, too worn down to feel insulted, just laughs.

“You think the beeping was leading us to the same thing?” He enquires.

“Probably- or probably to each other, actually. ‘cuz we're linked somehow!” Tango decides, seeming far more alert than Jimmy.

“Who… would do that? …why?” Jimmy asks hazily, stifling another yawn.

Tango lowers his gaze, brow furrowing. He doesn’t reply. Instead, he sinks deeper in thought, mumbling like he’s debating something in his mind.

Jimmy frowns as the moment stretches on, and opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, but Tango interrupts him.

“I think I might have an idea why I'm here.”

“Oh?” Jimmy tilts his head.

“You work with dodgy people, you get into dodgy situations.” He states bluntly, like it’s a matter of fact.

“You- you’re not a robber, are you? Or a murderer?!” Jimmy tenses, not-so-subtly shuffling away.

“Oh, no no- nothing scary,” Tango snorts, offering Jimmy a disarming wink.

Jimmy’s not convinced. He studies Tango wearily.

“I mean-” Tango elaborates, “I'm actually just an architect of sorts. That's not scary.”

“Could be!” Jimmy argues, “You could be making dungeons and torture chambers!”

Tango snaps his mouth shut with a squeak, a chuckle stuttering through his teeth.

"…yeeaah. Nothing like that." He assures vaguely, trying to emphasize his words carefully.

Jimmy squints at him, humming in agreement despite his suspicion. He goes to move so that he can face Tango straight on, but in the process, bumps his elbow into the stone wall.

Both Tango and Jimmy immediately curl into themselves. “Ah- ow ow ow ow.” They murmur in sync.

"Oh, yeah,” Tango wheezes breathlessly, “We should probably do something about these.”

Jimmy makes a small, sad noise to himself. He’s gone a long time without having to deal with a broken bone, and he had been hoping to keep it that way. He looks helplessly at his arm, and Tango follows his gaze.

“Can I see?” Tango asks, in the calmest voice he can muster, though the tension around his eyes betrays his own unease.

Jimmy just nods and moves closer, more carefully this time.

Tango leans over as Jimmy lifts his arm delicately.

“Hmm.” He ponders over the mangled limb. “Haha.” He concludes flatly, “It looks like we might have to set them.”

Jimmy pulls his arm back. “I don't want to do that. You know what, I always wanted a wonky arm, actually.”

“If it's any comfort, you won't be alone in the pain.” Tango tries with a weak smile.

Jimmy pouts. Conceding slightly, he asks “Are we going to do our arms at the same time?”

“Void, no.” Tango laughs dismissively. “That sounds like a horrible idea. The universe might just implode.”

“What?” Jimmy snaps, shooting Tango a concerned stare. Tango rolls his eyes.

“We'd most likely both feel twice as much pain, buddy. That's what I mean.”

Jimmy’s face tightens with anxiety, and he makes another move to scoot away.

“Hey, hey, wait.” Tango placates, looking around helplessly. Rummaging in his pocket, he pulls out two torn pieces of fabric. They look like they used to be the sleeves from his t-shirt.

Tango hands one to Jimmy. “Bite down on this?” He offers.

“Don't happen to have any form of painkillers, then?” Jimmy pipes uselessly.

Tango notices the way Jimmy eyes the dirty fabric. He shrugs apologetically.

“That's all I got, sorry.”

Jimmy sighs, willing himself to accept his fate, and clumsily folds the fabric with one hand. He tentatively places it in his mouth.

“So… who first?” He mumbles defeatedly through the fabric.

“Hmmm… you!”

Before Jimmy can process what’s happening, Tango snaps his arm back into place.

#stareater au #life series au #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #ranchers duo #cw injury #cw broken bones #team rancher #trafficblr

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loveyourownsmiilee · 2 months

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Alright friends I’m back with a small and quick buddie language analysis based off all that content we got for the 100 episodes celebration!!!

First of all, I can’t even get into body language without speaking about their outfit choices. On the same day we have their costume designer talk about how everything is thought out, how she meets with the directors/producers to make sure everything is right we have a sneak peek on what appears to be Buck and Eddie’s wedding outfits for Maddie and Chim’s wedding. Why is this a big deal?!? Because they are literally complimenting each other almost as if it’s meant to be viewed that they’re together as a unit. Now maybe it can be a family unit and not necessarily a couple type thing. Regardless, light pink and mint green are very complimentary and work well together. Upon some research, I found that pink tends to balance out the color green. The color pink will typically soften the color green whereas green will keep the pink color more grounded and leveled with the earth. Think of a strawberry where it grows from the green leaves and blooms into a beautiful red or pink shade!

Anyways it’s certainly a fucking choice that now we have confirmation that their costumes are always intentional, we have a glimpse into both gentlemen matching at what seems to be Buck’s sisters wedding. If that’s not meant to be obvious or a statement, then what is the reason? Especially knowing Eddie has never worn pink a single episode we’ve seen him in. He usually wears the earthy tones and Buck is the one who wears the fun colors including pink. So this role reversal is intentional but I also think it’s because Eddie is finally stepping out of his comfort zone and trying new things but Buck is still there to balance him out with his familiar earthy tones. They simply compliment each other well.

Now when it comes to body language, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Oliver and Ryan have such raw natural chemistry that really shines on screen. Clearly they’ve been filming a lot together because they’re slowly morphing into the same person. In many videos we have seen thus far, they are mirroring one another so seamlessly. That’s because their bodies have become so familiar with one another that it naturally mimics one another.

Take this video for example. They both go in and take a bite at the same time. They’re not even looking at each other but their bodies are in sync with one another.

Then we have another video where both men tilt their head and look left at the same time. It happens so naturally, almost as if there’s a mirror there and you’re seeing the same reflection. It’s ridiculous how in tune they are.

Then we have the level of closeness and lack of personal space. Oliver usually tends to keep his arms straight out and never really puts his hand around anyone when taking pictures. He clearly feels comfortable enough with Ryan to put his arm and hand around him for the photos they were taking. Also, Ryan is leaning in towards Oliver in the first photo which can be a direct result of how comfortable they are to be around each other, taking up the same space.

Do not even get me started on whatever this is. Clearly they didn’t know their picture was being taken while they were having their little talk. But this reminds me of all of Aisha’s lives where they were in their own little bubble talking as if they’re the only two people in the room. Same goes here. This is clearly two people who are so fucking comfortable in each others’ orbits and tend to tune out everyone and everything around them when they’re together. They exude such natural chemistry that it’s so palpable in pictures such as candids like this one. This tells me that it’s very likely a lot of their scenes have been together, which would explain why real life starts mimicking what happens on screen.

All in all what I’m trying to say is something is definitely different about these two this season. I know I’ve said it in the past but you don’t just look this comfortable and attached with just a random coworker or a friend. These are two people that have grown closer whether it’s on screen or maybe in real life with their friendship. All I’m saying is that something has shifted and it’s so obvious with just how naturally in sync they are with each other, how easily they touch one another and lean into the others touch. Something definitely has shifted or is on the cusp of shifting and I for one am excited to see. Excited to see why these choices on their wedding attire were made. Excited to see the trajectory of their on screen relationship. Excited to see how they’re going to strengthen Buck and Eddie and excited to see if they do in fact plan on planting those seeds for Buddie to bloom come next season.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ryan guzman #oliver stark #911 spoilers #buddie language #body language #911 on abc #buddie meta #I’m back at it

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spotsandsocks · 4 months

Note

Vampire!Buck munching on cardboard because it feels kinda good

Eddie: Wtf are you doing Buck?

😆😆😆

Well that had just put a big smile on my face thank you - and now beloved anon I hope you read this and enjoy (based in same universe as my recent vamp! Buck fic.

“Can I have this?”

Eddie looks over his shoulder to see Buck holding up the box that Christopher’s new trainers got delivered in.

It’s an innocent enough request Buck must need to post something, so he says yes. Why wouldn’t he, it’s good to recycle after all.

It’s odd though because he spots it the next time he’s at Buck’s loft in the recycling bin. It’s definitely the same one because it has the same logo on it. Except it now has several dozen little puncture marks along the edges. Odd but not anything particularly worrying.

Except he finds the same puncture marks on not one but two boxes in the storage closet at the station the following week and then again in a cereal box in his own recycling bin. That one’s been shoved down to the bottom but the wind caught him as he was carrying it all out to the bins so he ended up collecting cardboard and paper from his front yard and staring at the now familiar marks in his own cereal box that he knew he hadn’t put there. It can’t be mice, the bite marks are too big, and that’s what they are bite marks. It looks like a cat has been chewing along the edge, he doesn’t have a cat though. What he does have is a vampire for a boyfriend. A theory starts to form along with a plan to get to the bottom of this little mystery.

He starts leaving out more boxes at home and at Buck’s, also at work to test the theory.

It’s not untill he’s letting himself into Buck’s loft that he gets to the bottom of it. As he walks in he catches sight of Buck behind his kitchen island, the door opening has his boyfriend jumping half way into the sky and spinning so his back is to the door. He had something in his hand. Eddie just catches the sound of something firm but not heavy hitting the ground as Buck turns back around, the perfect picture of guilt.

Trying not to sound too amused he asks his boyfriend casually“what ya doing?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie is well versed in “Buck” and that nothing was definitely a something.

He wanders over until he’s on the same side of the island and he’s looking down at their feet while Buck is looking anywhere but.

On the floor between them is a cardboard box. Eddie stares at his competition.

“Well I can’t say I’d expected to be replaced by the recycling.”

Buck pushes his shoulder with a roll of his eyes and a quiet “shut up” He’s a delightful shade of pink so he must have fed recently.

“Is this another stupid diet?”

Eddie manages to keep a straight face and is rewarded with the reaction he’d hoped for.

“Fuck off! That was a food plan!”

Eddie gives into the grin. “Sure thing baby, and the cardboard is???”

“I just like it ok. It feels good, fun. I like punching the little holes”

Eddie almost loses it when Buck makes a little biting gesture to demonstrate.

“Do you now?”

“Yeah.” Buck shrugs half a smile on his face, “I like making patterns. “

Eddie nods with an amused pout as he starts to unpack the shopping he’d brought over so they could cook, “ok then, don’t let me stop you, nibble away Picasso. ”

Buck scoops to pick up the box and toses it towards the recycling. “You’re hilarious- really”

“At least I know what to get you for Christmas this year.” Eddie smirks at the response.

“Don’t you dare!”

He does dare and gets his ridiculous adorable vampire boyfriend a range of cardboard boxes of various sizes, types and construction for Christmas. Buck pulls a face and throws a pillow at him when he opens his gift but his eyes light up anyway and he starts a range of experiments that keep him happy for hours as he works through the different textures to find out which ones are his favourite.

Eddie watches with a fond and indulgent smile. Chris shakes his head in despair and Buck with a delighted grin finally declares that a medium weight corrugated cardboard provides the superior biting experience by far; at least in terms of cardboard.

He makes it perfectly clear later that his top favourite thing to bite is still Eddie.

#look 3 posts down for the inspiration #at least I assume so #heck of a coincidence if not #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #vampire #vampire!buck #evan buck buckely

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alienpossession · 3 months

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Mode of Infiltration: Shower

NASA and the other space scientist weren't too far off when they predicted that the highest possible form of an alien would be something small or even in liquid-form. Lucky for those extraterrestrial creature, Earth consisted of around +70% water, ensuring their ability to infiltrate human society stealthily

But won't you realize that sudden change of texture or even temperature when you mind your own business under the shower head and instead of drops of water hitting your body, something slimy instead slid all over your body. Osman here realized it when his post-shower gym suddenly turned into a nightmarish situation as he felt something slimy trickled down his body.

He dashed out from his shower in shock as he witnessed the slimes coagulated into bigger form within the shower stall. But before he can try to run outside his bathroom and warn his wife, his sons and his younger brother, the numbing component of the slime caused him to stuck as he found himself unable to move a single muscle in his body. Before long, the slimes that coagulated in his shower made their travel upward the ridges and peaks of Osman's body before sliding in comfortably into his brain, where they then take control of his body

Kevin experienced the same fate hundreds of miles away in the sunny Ibiza. He just wanted a peaceful shower, but then the weird goopy "splat" sound surprised him. He thought a bird dropped its poop or something since the shower stall in this particular beach has no sun shade or anything. But he found nothing with his naked eyes. If only he focused a little, he might found the translucent alien that already pooled in the shower floor.

When Kevin left the stall, it was no longer Kevin in control of his own body as the alien managed to repress his consciousness and begin his exploration of the party-heavy island.

Luis also no longer in control of his body when he kissed the love of his life, Justin. But, Justin have no clue about it. Plus, the alien that controlled Luis split a little part of itself to enter Justin. As both men kissed, the alien that blended smoothly with Luis' saliva managed to startled Justin who then quickly taken over by that small alien part. They went on for more kisses afterwards as Luis practically pumped Justin with extraterrestial sentient.

And again, this is not just simply about shower shower. You can be possessed even in chlorinated pool water without you ever realized as the see-through, water-like alien shot itself into your brain by sliding itself into the not-so-tight-fitting swimming shorts you wore.

But in some random cases, even being showered with affection might be the cause of people's downfall as certain liquid alien managed to sort themselves inside fancy wine upon landing. Not a single soul would even be able to realize that his supposed friend didn't just spray him with champagne, it's an alien sentient that marged itself with one of human's favorite drink, and they did it successfully.

His friend, his teammates, are not necessarily what they looked like as they got taken over earlier than him. But it's not just the team getting affected, business partners and media crews that gathered to witness and document them after their historic win also affected by the suds and whatever remnant of the champagne as those watery substance quickly slid into people's ear, nose, mouth and even navel, rendering them to be nothing but mere passenger on their own body.

All in all, these aliens are indeed very elusive, and with so many type of them with differing abilities, there's still many more mode of infiltration these extraterrestrials have that need to be uncovered. This one is rather stealthy, taken people by surprise but certainly far from brutal. Yet, that is not always the case and we are going to go through some of them in the next edition

#alien possession #male possession #alien expansion #alien takeover #mode of infiltration

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avatar-anna · 10 months

Note

Ithink the first time professor interrupts one of harry’s workout sessions, she definitely gets all blushy and bashful, and he definitely notices and loves it.// can you make it a blurb pleaseee with harry teasing prof about oggling him, only if you're comfy with that?? thanks!!

Let's Get Physical

The Professor Series

You didn't know how he did it.

Here you were, body bent over as you heaved—even though you knew it would be easier to get air in your lungs if you stood up straight—hair falling out of your ponytail and sticking to your sweaty cheeks, which were probably an angry shade of red. Your legs had been the consistency of jello twenty minutes ago, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to walk back to the car without falling over or passing out or both.

In other words, you were an absolute disaster.

Turning your head to the side, you looked at your boyfriend, who had broken a sweat but otherwise looked almost exactly the same as when he woke up this morning and suggested you go on this infernal run with him. He looked better even. His sleeveless shirt revealed muscles that were glistening with sweat, and when he lifted the hem to wipe his brow, your eyes zeroed in on his stomach, the butterfly tattoo, the trail of hair that led down to—

And now your face was red for a completely different reason.

"You okay down there?"

You rested wobbly arms on your hips and slowly straightened to look Harry in the eye. "No."

Harry grinned, clearly amused by your disheveled appearance. He looked too good for someone who just went on a run. You knew how you felt on the inside, which probably translated pretty well to how you looked physically, and Harry was just standing there fresh as a daisy.

Running. In the morning. You'd never been much of a morning person, but you were definitely not the type to exercise regularly. You got your fix by riding your bike around, and you made sure you got your steps in at work, but physical exertion? On purpose? And once again, in the morning? Absolutely not.

The things you did for love.

"You did really well," Harry said, stretching his arms above his head as he did so. While his head was tilted up, you couldn't help but stare, your mouth hanging open slightly.

You'd never been the type of person who based your affection for someone solely on looks. You valued relationships of the mind, being with someone who could somewhat keep up with you when you spoke to them. Harry was one hundred percent that person, but right now the only words that came to mind were two that you overheard your students using a few weeks ago: stupid hot.

"My whole body hurts," you managed to say, unable to keep the slight whine out of your voice. "I'm overheating, I probably have blisters, and these shorts are riding up my ass. Meanwhile, you look like one of the marble statues in the Classics Department—it's unfair."

You could tell Harry was trying to hold back a laugh as he digested your mini rant. You didn't mean for all of that to come out, but you were tired, and maybe a little delirious. He was making you delirious. You knew Harry was handsome, you saw him nearly every day, but something about his post workout appearance was putting you on edge. How his shorts weren't driving you crazy was also plaguing your mind, but mostly it was the overall look of him that had you at a loss for words.

"I think there was a compliment in there somewhere, so thank you," he said. When all you did was huff and glare at him, he took a couple steps closer to you. "I know those red cheeks of yours are from more than just the run. I can see right through your huffing and puffing, darling."

Your heart fluttered even more at the way his breath tickled your ear, but you were still cross with him for getting you out of bed to go on this run in the first place. Your perfectly soft bed in your temperature controlled bedroom. His teasing was noted and not appreciated.

"You're so—"

"Sexy? Devastatingly handsome? Hot?"

"Yes—No—Don't put words in my mouth!"

Harry's grin was smug as he said, "Doctor Y/l/n, are you getting a little hot?"

"I've been hot, that's what I've been trying to say! And you—you're not helping!"

He finally did let out a laugh then before leaning over and kissing your cheek. "Let's get you home."

"Please," you said gratefully, wanting to launch yourself at him the minute you returned and lie down and never get back up at the same time. Cardio had never really been your thing, but for some reason you let Harry pull you out of bed way before you should've been awake. Why you'd gotten up before your alarm at all was a mystery, but here you were, and now you were wondering if you'd ever catch your breath.

With Harry looking the way you did, you didn't think that outcome was likely.

You settled for holding Harry's hand as you walked back to his car, putting all your focus into not tripping over your feet. Your heart finally stopped beating wildly in your chest, which was a nice feeling, though now you were aware of all the sweat—on your back, your hair, your arms and legs. There was simply no way people actually endured this kind of physical exertion for fun.

"I love you, but I don't think I'll be joining you again," you said as you slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car. Once he was in and had his seatbelt on, you rested your head on his shoulder. "I don't think I'll be doing anything ever again."

"You could've stayed home," Harry said, resting a hand on your knee as he peeled onto the street. "Don't get me wrong, I love seeing you all hot and bothered—"

"Shut up," you said, moving his hand off your knee, even if, but he only moved it back.

"But," he continued, rubbing his thumb on the inside of your leg. It was such a casual touch, and he wasn't even looking over at you as he did it. He was just...happy to be near you. Harry always was. So even though he'd made you all flustered and promptly teased you for it, you rested your hand over his and patiently waited for him to continue. "Exercise means a post-workout shower."

There was a suggestion in Harry's tone that made your stomach flip and your heart pound the way it had been when you'd been desperately trying to keep up with him this morning. As he let his clear offer to take a post-workout shower together settle in, you just looked at him and sighed breathily through your nose.

He truly was the most handsome person you met. The hair under his ratty blue baseball cap curled perfectly, his jaw had just the right amount of stubble covering it, and there was a bead of sweat that was trailing down his neck, drawing your eyes as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he hummed along to the song playing from the car's speakers.

If you knew how to draw, you would capture this moment with a pen and paper. You technically had a perfect memory, but there was something so much more intimate about recalling each detail you loved about Harry and using it to create rather than just pulling it from where your brain had stored it. But your line of thinking was just so clinical. People often found your intelligence remarkable, but you'd always admired the kind of genius that lied in art and creativity. It was why Harry intrigued you so much when you met. He was so different from you, yet was so remarkable in his own right. He could express himself in ways that you couldn't, he saw things differently than you did, approached the world and his life at a different angle than you did, but was no less precise or right.

But he was different, today was clearly an example of that. Sometimes you were surprised by how well you and Harry seemed to get along when he was just so—

"Did I lose you?"

Blinking, you blushed and said, "No. I'm right here."

"Tell me what you're thinking," he said, voice soft and curious, the way it always was when he said those five words.

"Lots of things," you said honestly. "How I'm going to get out of this car let alone up the stairs to shower, for one."

"I'll carry you, of course," Harry said, smiling as he neared the street leading up to his house. A few moments of silence passed before he continued. Squeezing your leg, he said, "Don't hide from me, love. Tell me what you were thinking about."

You flipped the hand that was on your leg so that his palm was facing up and began to trace the lines on it. Parts of his hand were callused and rough, something that you weren't quite used to when you first met. But now you found Harry's hand steady and reliable, a source of comfort whenever you became nervous or overwhelmed. It didn't take a long time to realize you didn't want to hold anyone else's hand but his for the rest of your life.

"Did you know that Julius Caesar chose his soldiers by reading their palms?" you asked instead of answering his question.

"A sound military plan," Harry replied, knowing you weren't ignoring his request, just taking your time getting there.

You shrugged. "Not the worst in history."

Harry hummed, then asked, "Do you ever think about teaching history?"

"Instead of psychology?" you asked.

Now Harry shrugged. "I don't know. You seem passionate about it. Might be an interesting change."

You did like history, and you loved talking about it. It would be hard to narrow down what subject you actually wanted to focus on, especially when there were so many to pick from. But ultimately, "I kind of just like talking about it with you."

You were still looking down at Harry's hand, thinking of all the precision it would take to sketch the lines and creases in it. You were so transfixed that you didn't even realize the car had come to a stop in front of his house, or that Harry was blushing all the way down to his neck.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. No one ever listens to me the way you do, you know?"

"Well, that's because no one explains it to me like you do."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Harry's hand slipped from yours as he opened the door on his side of the car. As promised, he came around and opened yours, arms outstretched like he was fully prepared to carry your jelly limbs into the house.

"What do you mean?"

Harry tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from your ponytail on your run this morning. Most of your hair had fallen out, actually, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"You explain it like you were actually there. It's cute, and interesting, like I'm listening to a story."

"A good one?"

"The best."

You couldn't help but smile wide at that. Instead of letting Harry carry you out of the car, you leaned forward and kissed him, your hands cupping his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs against his skin affectionately. Harry didn't hesitate to rest his own hands on your waist before creeping under your sweater.

All those thoughts you had about him this morning came flooding back to you in one huge rush, making you wrap your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. Your lips hastily moved to his jaw, then his neck, trailing down and nipping at skin until—

Harry's breath hitched and you grinned as he lifted you out of the car, closing the door behind you with a definitive slam. Peals of laughter left you as Harry began to nuzzle your neck, his stubble tickling your skin the way you both knew it would as he made his way into the house.

*.*

A few weeks later, you stirred from sleep as you felt the bed shift as Harry sat up. Through squinted eyes, you watched as he stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his back flexing and popping rolled the sleep out of his shoulders. You watched for a minute, admiring your boyfriend while still half asleep before reaching a hand out and lightly running a hand along his back.

Only startling slightly, he turned around, grinning down at you when he saw your half open eyes.

"Morning, Professor. I was gonna head out for a run this morning if you wanted to—"

Your hand had been trailing up his arm and across his shoulder until your index finger found the gold chain of his necklace. With one swift tug, you pulled his lips onto yours and his body until it was hovering over you.

"No, you're not," you said.

Harry grinned into the kiss, his hands already searching for the hem of your shirt. "No, I'm not."

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