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bad268 · 8 months

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My Champion (Ollie Bearman X Hauger! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Yee @arshiyuh (thank you for being patient <3)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: None used

W.C. 1710

Summary: Follow Y/n and Ollie through different race weekends shared moments and unwavering support.

A/n: Inktober is coming up so all requests will be put on hold (doesn't mean I won't work on them, but the soonest I'll post them is probably November)

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Google/Sports Illustrated)

Bahrain 2022

It was my first weekend on the track. Despite my brother’s success in Formula 3 last year, I had never had the time or money to travel with him, so this was pretty big for me. He was moved up to Formula 2 this year, so I knew that I wanted to be there to support him

I walked into the crowded garage, looking around to try and find my brother. I felt eyes on my back, so I turned around, trying to find who was looking at me. I made eye contact with a curly-haired brunette who was half hiding behind a wall. Once we made eye contact, he immediately ducked behind the wall, but I was already making my way over to him.

“Hi, can you help me find my brother, Dennis?” I asked after meeting him around the corner before he could go into one of the driver’s rooms.

“Oh, he’s already in the car,” the boy explained, the tension immediately leaving and replaced by slight remorse.

“Dang, the race doesn't start for another hour,” I sighed, “You really get in the cars that early?”

“Yeah, we have to get down to the track super early,” He explained before realizing he didn’t introduce himself. “I’m Ollie by the way.”

“Y/n.”

Silverstone 2022

“Ollie?” I shouted through the Prema garage after the F3 race. “If you don’t answer me, I’ll drink the smoothie that I bought for you!”

That’s all it took for Ollie to come running out of the driver’s room out of breath and half dressed. He smirked and he pointed an accusing finger at me before saying, “I got out of the shower, but I’m not ignoring you.”

“Good, you stunk,” I answered, not acknowledging his shirtless chest. “I didn't actually buy the smoothie yet cause I wanted to see if your debrief was over.”

Clearly, I wasn’t doing a good enough job because Ollie noticed immediately that I was distracted. “Hey, my eyes are up here.” My face immediately heated up, causing him to start laughing.

“Sorry,” I muttered, dropping my head as Ollie pulled on a random Prema polo.

“You’re fine,” He chuckled, placing his hand under my jaw to lift my head. "How about we go get food and smoothies before the F2 race? We can watch it in here while we eat.”

“That sounds an awful lot like you’re asking my sibling on a date, Ollie,” Dennis said as he came into the garage. All Dennis did was point a finger at Ollie as he grabbed his balaclava from the table, “I would lecture you but I’m gonna be late, so all I’m saying is don’t be stupid.” With that, Dennis took off toward the track.

“What just happened?”

Spa 2022

“Ollie, that drive was amazing!” I exclaimed as Ollie came into the Prema garage after collecting his second trophy of the weekend. “Two podiums on the same weekend! I’m so proud of you!”

Ollie suddenly grew shy under my praise as his face became red and he dropped his head with a small smile. “Thank you, Y/n/n.”

“Oh, are you suddenly an Ollie fan now?” Dennis joked, coming out of the driver's room to tease. “You didn’t even congratulate me when I won the championship!”

“You don’t need me to stroke your ego,” I laughed, hitting Dennis’ arm. “You win a lot. This weekend was his first win. Let me be happy for him. Plus, I’ve been an Ollie fan since Silverstone.”

“Just don’t make me hear it. I’m right next to your room,” He teased.

“Not that, Dennis!”

~~ Monza 2022

It was the end of the F3 season dinner before some of the team would be heading home for a few weeks. Ollie got second place in the sprint and feature, and all three Prema cars were in the top five for the feature race. Thus, the team decided a celebration was in order, especially since all three of their F3 drivers were moving up to F2 next season.

Ollie was very picky. It was common knowledge, so it wasn’t surprising when he ordered a basic spaghetti.

“It’s actually really good,” Ollie whined as a couple of the engineers ganged up on him for choosing something so simple when they’re in Italy. “Y/n/n, you try it. It’s completely different from London.”

“Well, of course, it is,” I laughed. “London is London and Italy is Italy. Italy is the land of the pasta for a reason.”

“Just try it,” He groaned, continuing to twirl his fork in the noodles. I signed in mock annoyance before leaning into Ollie’s side as I spun a bunch of noodles on my fork. We both put our forks in our mouths at the same time, and I noticed very quickly that one of our noodles was connected. Ollie seemed to pick it up around the same time, so we both turned our heads to look at each other. We were trying so hard not to laugh as the team started catching on to what we were going to do. We both leaned in, meeting in the middle of the noodle in a short kiss. The guys on the team were very split in their reactions; some were fake gagging and others were whistling.

We pulled apart after our brief display of affection, both of us smiling like crazy. I licked the remaining sauce off my lips with a smirk as Ollie and I just stared at each other, him expecting an answer.

“Spaghetti’s not that bad,” I laughed.

“Not that bad?” He questioned in disbelief. “Do we need to do that again? I think I could convince you.”

~~ Baku 2023

“I don’t think you’ll ever understand how proud I am of you,” I whispered as we were laying in our hotel bed after the feature race. We’d have to catch an early flight, so we just got some smoothies after dinner as a reward and had a movie playing in the background. Ollie laid his head on my chest as I played with his curls while the movie played on. “You made history this weekend, love. I am so incredibly proud of you.”

“If I wasn’t so tired, I would go on about how I wouldn’t be here without you,” he mumbled as he tightened his hold around my torso. “But I appreciate you. So much.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ll always be here.”

“Oh no, you’re the lucky one,” He joked. “You get to say you’re with the guy who swept the weekend in F2. I don’t see them nicknaming a circuit after you.”

“Because Azer-bear-jan sounds better than Hauger-baijan. I don’t make the rules. I just enforce them.”

“We could debate this all night.”

Abu Dhabi 2023

“You’re forgetting something, Ollie,” I stretched out as Ollie was on his way out of his driver’s room just before the race. He was doing some stretches in his driver’s room to keep warmed up during the red flag due to the amount of debris on the track while I was reading until his engineer came in giving him the 10-minute warning. “You can’t forget it.”

“Oh, right,” he responded, immediately walking up to place a short kiss on my lips. “Happy?”

“I was talking about this,” I gestured to the helmet that still sat on the table behind me, “But that works too, I guess.”

“Oh, that would be helpful. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he laughed, leaning over to grab the helmet. He started walking out the door but turned around at the last second to come kiss me. He leaned his forehead against mine, saying, “One more for good luck.” He placed one last kiss on my nose before being dragged out by Fred to race.

Bahrain 2024

I had a good feeling this year. It was going to be a good year for Ollie. The first race was off to a great start with Ollie finishing second in the sprint and first in the feature race after starting fifth.

“Ollie, this is your year,” I exclaimed as I walked into the Prema hospitality where Ollie was currently in the shower after his media duties.

“Um, knock?” He laughed as he stuck his head out of the shower to see me sitting on the ground against the door.

“I’m just saying, I got a feeling, baby,” I clarified.

“Any particular reason you felt the need to tell me while I’m in the shower?” He laughed at my antics.

“I couldn’t hold that back. That’s bad luck,” I quipped back. “Plus, I needed you to know now.”

“Glad to know you’ve got my back,” He chuckled as he went back to his shower.

“Always, love,” I responded quickly.

Qatar 2024

He just needed a top 5 finish. That’s all he needed, and he’ll be an F2 champion. Dino would need to win the race, and Ollie would need to place outside of the top five for Dino to challenge him for the title. However, that went out the window as soon as Ollie secured pole and Dino couldn’t start.

“Ollie, you did it!” I shouted through the headset as soon as he crossed the finish line in first place, “You are the F2 Champion!”

“All you, love,” he said back. “This is all for you, Y/n/n.”

“No, this all you. You did the hard work, Ollie,” I cried. “That was an incredible drive! Get in here!”

It didn’t take long for Ollie to pull around into parc ferme into his rightful place and jump out of his car. He stood on top of his car as everyone cheered for him before running and jumping into the sea of Prema. After the engineers gave him pats on the back and he shared a hug with his strategist, he turned his attention to me.

He slowly walked up to stand directly in front of me, allowing me to take his helmet and balaclava off. I could see the tears that filled his eyes, causing my eyes to water as well, as we just smiled at each other for a few seconds. It’s like there was no one else there.

Just me and my champion.

~~~~~

#ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman #ollie x reader #oliver bearman #oliver bearman x reader #formula 2 x reader #f2 #formula 2 imagine #f3 #formula 3 #f1 x reader #prema racing #dennis hauger #hauger reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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pearlywritings · 1 year

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Intimacy shared in the wild

synopsis: you and your lover have a steamy moment outside PART 3

pairing: Alhaitham, Kazuha, Tighnari, Thoma (separately) x fem!reader

tw: established relationship, VERY much suggestive, Kazuha is 23-25, breeding kink, oral

word count: 4.4k+ words in total

author’s note: you can check part 2 here and there is going to be part 4!

Alhaitham

Having a pair of piercing eyes make a hole in the back of your head occasionally is exactly what you expected from your little expedition to Mawtiyima Forest. To a passerby on the road between the Sumeru City and the Palace of Alcazarzaray that would look like two scholars are simply on their way, but Alhaitham is watching you like a hawk. That was anticipated, but the lack of the conversation you’ve had ever since leaving through one of the multiple Akademiya exits creates quite an oppressive atmosphere.

Even you have to admit it’s hard to digest.

“Hey,” calling out to him, you slightly turn your head to see if he is listening or not. With a quick movement of his eyes from observing the surroundings back to your figure you are assured that he does. “You know you do not have to go with me there? I just need to take a couple of pictures of the Leylines to illustrate my research of the Forest grounds, I would’ve been back before dinner.”

The man looks you directly in the eyes, and, have you not dated him longer and known even longer, it could’ve sent chills down your spine and urge you to quickly divert your gaze somewhere else. But you know your boyfriend - to prove something to him you need a strong argument, which sometimes feels like you are defending an academic paper.

Eventually Alhaitham sighs and you brace yourself for an argument of his own, one you are aware of too well.

“It’s been just a couple of weeks since your group was attacked during your research outing and you got injured.”

Yes, that is true, but you got injured only because you were protecting others. It just happened that at that time you were the only weapon wielder in your small team, and the closeness of the area of your expedition convinced you and your colleagues from the Spantamad Darshan that hiring the support group is unnecessary.

If it wasn’t for your injury, which is fine (Akademiya doesn’t have healers for nothing), the Scribe wouldn’t even know you went somewhere and then returned. You saw his working table, you know how much work is on his hands at the moment. But that unfortunate encounter made a stoic man lose his cool a little and go as far as order your Darshan’s secretary, to whom every student must hand the application for any kind of research outside of the Akademiya building, especially in the wild, inform him immediately should you hand in one.

So much for a low-profile relationship.

“Alhaitham,” you stop in your tracks and turn around to come face to face with him. Your lover looks at you inquiringly, stopping only when there is just a few inches between your chests. Next second the teal eyes slightly widen, revealing his diamond-shaped irises fully, and hands dart to wrap around yours, cutting off your attempt to undo the next fastener of your uniform.

“What do you think you are doing?” The feigned calmness in his voice contrasts with the worry in his eyes. You roll yours, sighing in exasperation.

“What does it look like? Trying to open the front of my uniform to show that there is no longer any ready to reopen gash under my collarbones.”

His eye twitches, and for a reason his rising irritation fuels your never-ending desire to mess with him, because actually getting a real reaction out of him is priceless. Especially today.

“And what did you think of, Sir? Oh, I might know,” an alluring grin earns you a huff. “You thought I was going to give you a look at my chest, didn't you?”

“What? This is ridicu-”

“Come on, no need to be modest, my love,” taking advantage of his distracted state, you escape his grip and quickly make work of two more fasteners. “You love my breasts, don’t try and argue, this is an axiom.”

You honestly assume he looks insulted for a moment, after your words leave your mouth and register in his brain. However, this man is much more intelligent and self-assured to actually take an insult and act offended about it. No, he tends to backfire.

“Simply because you turn into a moaning mess when I play with them,” it is your turn to gawk at him wide-eyed, fingers frozen in place on the fourth clasp. And fuck do your knees buckle when he smirks, tasting the control on his tongue again. The control over you with mere words. “Whining and squirming and rubbing your thighs together, when I toy with your nipples. What’s with the face, dear? Am I wrong here? Don’t you beg me to suck just a bit more, while you desperately hump my leg, clawing at my shoulders or tugging on my hair? I know what kind of person you are behind the closed doors of our bedroom, Y/n, I made sure to memorize it.”

“Pff, only bedroom? How bad of a scholar you are, Alhaitham, so unwilling to broaden your horizon,” you move the fabric away, showing him more of the smooth skin and the swell of your breasts. The man feels something else starting to swell in his pants because of your tempting teasing. But he is not ready to give up just yet.

“Oh? Are you implying that I should fuck you right here?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“I am implying that you do not have enthusiasm to do so. How sad, looks like those piles upon piles of papers stripped you bare of your desires. Must be hard doing all this work all the time.”

Something is off about the way you are speaking of his duty. This mischievous glint in your eyes and the smile playing on your lips, like you are taunting him of something he hasn’t figured out yet, of some scheme you came up with and trapped him into…

Wait.

“You don’t need to take the pictures, do you?”

You throw your head back and heartily laugh.

“Nope.”

“And you sent in the application, because you knew I’d follow you.”

“Yep.”

“Because you know that simple words won’t get me out of the office and pay attention to you.”

“Wow, you are so smart,” you applaud him with the most ‘I’m impressed’ look on your face you could master.

He is going to wipe it off.

His sturdy body practically pushes you against the nearby solid surface, mouth silencing yours and hand sneaking into the opening of your uniform, cupping one of the mounds. A moan follows instantly and Alhaitham greedily swallows it, molding your lips with his, hand gently lifting the soft flesh and a thumb running over the swollen bud applying pressure.

“You won’t be so sarcastic once I have you on my cock, and I bet you are tight,” you mewl, when he pinches the nip between his thumb and forefinger and tugs.

“But that's part of "broadening our horizons", right? Now, let’s get your robe out of the way…”

Kazuha

The Chinju Forest basks in the dusk and the beautiful silence. When you and the man beside you were kids, you both were nervous and scared to roam around the area, where the yokais were believed to live. But it always was the most enigmatic and attractive place to you two, and every time the Kaedahara heir came to visit, you ran to the forest to test your courage.

Years later the place doesn't frighten you, quite the opposite - it brings you comfort. It awakens the memory and the flowers glowing all around you make the pictures in your head even clearer.

Of Promises Unkept the Night Flowers Speak… What a poetic name, but such a rueful meaning. You and Kazuha shared so many promises among the fields of fluorescent petals, childish and innocent, but that weighed heavily on your heart when he wasn't there.

I will return again…

You are so glad he did. Many times and yet again.

Of course I will remember you!

And your heart did. Always.

We will never be apart for long or forever…

This vow almost became broken, when your first love fled Inazuma and disappeared into nowhere, a place you didn't know, a place where you couldn't reach him.

One day we’ll be together till the end of our lives…

Not fair! I wanted to say that!

A promise you try not to think about, as you don't want to demand anything from the wandering samurai. He's just been justified and returned to Inazuma to tend to some important matters, concerning his family and legacy. You doubted he'd stay forever.

"You are so quiet," the voice, akin to the whisper of the wind, makes you shiver as if caressed by a passing breeze. "It doesn't sound like you at all."

"How can it sound anything, if I am silent?" You attempt to joke and indeed hear breathless laughter. You don't have the power to tear your gaze from the quickly darkening sky and glance to the side, where you know the person of your many dreams and nightmares is lying on his back, with one knee bent and arms crossed behind his head.

"You know what I mean, sweet sakura bloom," the term of endearment, one from the past, makes you swoon.

"Just thinking," you shrug your shoulders, hands clasped together and resting on your stomach. "About the past."

"The past…" It echoes and quickly disappears in the rustle of grass. The conversation seems to come to a halt, and the word hangs in the cool of the air, like an echo that forgot to run far far away, beyond the line of your sight and the limits your hearing can meet. However, Kazuha proves you wrong, as you sense him moving a little.

“Can I have your hand?”

“What?” Your head whips to the side and your breath hitches, when your eyes make contact with his. The young man is gazing at you, like you are holding stars in your palms, and each one of them has his name written on it. He’s changed his position, now resting on his side, supporting his upper body with an elbow.

“Your hand. Can you give it to me?”

“Um…sure?” Having zero idea of what to expect, you raise the hand, which is closer to him, and reach out. Delicately looking, but roughened by wielding a sword, fingers wrap just beneath your wrist and tug.

Heart skips a beat and then starts violently abusing your ribs, as his lips gingerly press against the inside of the wrist. Eyelids slide close, and Kazuha hums, slowly sliding his fingers higher, until his palm enveloped the back of yours and brought it to his cheek, leaning in your hand.

“Kazu, what are you doing?” The whisper leaves your lips, and you think you lost your voice, eyes stinging and heart aching. You shouldn’t look too deep into it, right?

“I don’t know, Y/n… But it feels so right… Being with you feels so right…” His eyes are back on yours, and you feel like you could kiss him right now, right here, among the glowing flowers, under the cover of the night.

“Do you think we have a chance?”

Do you? This question has been having your mind wrecked for all those years he wasn’t there, couldn’t be there. And every time you came to the only possible answer.

“Yes. I think we do.”

Maybe it is the moon shining in his eyes, or maybe it’s happiness, but the wandering samurai smiles, and the smile outshines the flowers.

“Is that a promise?”

“It is an oath,” you cup his check and trace your thumb under his eye.

“An oath…” he dreamily sighs, and closes his eyes again. You cannot miss the opportunity.

The kiss tastes like the first one you ever shared - the scenery is authentic, the stars, the moon that bask you in their light, are the same. Maybe you two have changed, but the union of your lips is just as innocent as years ago.

You gasp and heartily chuckle, when he rolls you in your previous position on your back and hovers over you. Long locks of his white hair fall down and tickle your cheeks, but you do not mind, raising your arms and wrapping around his shoulders. One arm keeps him above you, and the other hand settles on your hip - gently, yet so intimately.

“If it is an oath, I want to solidify it. To prove I will come back. Will you let me?” Seriousness overtakes his features, as the fingers on your body move to the hem of your yukata. You get nervous.

“Kazuha, that’s-”

“I am not going to penetrate you, my bloom,” soothingness is back again. “There are more ways of engraving myself in your body and giving you pleasure a woman like you deserves. May I show you?”

You chew on your bottom lip. Though still nervous, you know that Kazuha will never do something to hurt or disrespect you. And after all these years, you still trust him.

“Yes… You may.”

Your body writhes and spasms, nudging the sides of your open yukata further off your body. The cool air toys with your heated skin, but you could care less, when your man, your lover, is showing you ecstasy you never knew one could experience. Sure, you touched yourself and slid your fingers between your sleaked folds, learning of pleasure with burning cheeks, but his mouth is nothing in comparison to it. He kisses, he licks, he sucks, he worships you, and pours his love into your body, for it to stay with you, until he comes back.

"One day we'll be together…"

Well, 'one day' is not 'never'.

Tighnari

Ba-dump

The sound of heart is in your ears and your head pulses with each beat, as lungs are desperately trying to provide you with oxygen. Your legs are starting to wear out, and your stamina is running out, as you are fleeing farther and farther into the woods, though making sure to follow the general direction of close to where you should end up.

It’s a good thing you know Sumeru’s wilderness better than the back of your hand. The bad thing is that Tighnari knows it even better.

For the current occasion it’s also a bad thing that his tracking and hunting skills are insane, and the keen sense of smell and hearing he possesses as a fennec fox hybrid doesn’t help at all.

Which is actually the whole reason behind you sprinting around the Avidya Forest - your lover’s hybrid tendencies, that includes many instincts, as well as him experiencing rut. Now, it’s not all that bad, he has it once a year and is always prepared with other forest rangers ready to take over in his stead for a week, while he is away, holed up in his special cave, and dealing with what he calls an “inconvenient, but luckily short occasion”.

Only this year it is different, because you, his lover of a couple of years, expressed your willingness to help him out, since he mentioned in passing, how having a partner commonly shortens the extension of ruts.

You remember it clear as day, how his ears perked up and tail stilled completely, as his eyes, usually exuding calmness and confidence, stared at you dumbfoundedly. And that’s quite understandable why - sure, even if he wouldn’t say it outloud unless explicitly asked, the man already considers you his mate, someone he’d be delighted to spend the rest of his life with. Offering him your assistance during such an important and vulnerable moment is almost like asking him to marry you and start a family together. Which is exactly what his animal side would want, as he told you, after sitting you down to explain what you were proposing to him.

Your cheeks flush, when you remember his precise words.

"Y/n, listen attentively and take in everything I am going to say. While in a rut I won't be in the right state of mind. Everything about you will drive me crazy - you touch, your smell, your taste… The only thought planted in my head would be to breed you, to make you a mother. You sure you are ready to try and handle me?"

And you sure are, with the full knowledge of what to expect and all those birth control medicines you've drunk and stored even more in a cave just in case, to prevent any unwanted outcomes. This way you know you can let him go wild and do whatever he needs for his own inner comfort.

A twig snaps nearby and you are reminded of your game of escape - something to whet and fuel Tighnari’s desire, teasing him by depriving him of your body - the only thing he needs right now.

Thump, thump, thump

Your heart is beating even faster and legs ache, hardly having any strength left to go on. You think that maybe it is enough - after all, you still need energy for what is to come - so you turn to the left and slow down a little, heading towards your haven.

”Found you, little minx.”

You gulp and almost cry in surprise when a low snarl is uttered near your ear. Spooked, you attempt to dart in the opposite direction, but two strong, trained with bow arms circle around your middle and yank you backwards, closer to the man’s body.

Instantly you become uncomfortably hot; he seems to be overheating, because there is no way a person without pyro vision could produce so much warmth. Initial shock is quickly replaced by concern, and you grab one of his hands, still clutching your waist, and squeeze it.

“Tighnari, are you alright?” You sound breathless and you are, chest repeatedly rising and falling with every sharp inhale and exhale. The male behind you growls and buries his face between your neck and shoulder, sniffing and shuddering in pleasure from smelling so many delicious scents that are parts of you.

“Yes… Yes, I am,” he pants, free hand reaching up to grope your breast, mindful of his claws.

You are so soft, so warm, so welcoming… Everything in him screams to mark you, to claim you, to sink his teeth in your flesh and his cock in your tight walls, and breed, breed, breed.

However, there is still a sliver of consciousness in him and he wills to unclasp his arms from around you, stepping back a little, and ask you one last time.

“This is your last call, Y/n. If you have any doubts, better leave now, before I drag you to the cave and-”

“I am not backing down,” you turn around to face him, and Archons, you are so beautiful, with that determined look in your eyes, hands reaching for his, gently, but firmly enveloping them in your hold. If he could, he'd curl his tail in the shape of a heart. “Yeah, maybe I freaked for a moment here, but it’s just because I’ve never had you chasing me all the way through the forest,” you chuckle, cutting the distance between you two again and kissing the tip of his nose, smiling when Tighnari lets out a quiet purr. “And I don’t mind being ‘dragged’ to the cave, because, honestly, my legs hurt.”

“No second thoughts?” The male rubs his nose against yours in a comforting manner, ears twitching excitedly. You shake your head, pressing your body to his, provoking another shudder to run down his spine and hips buck into yours with a low groan.

“No second thoughts,” you reassure him, gently smiling. “So, with everything discussed once again… How about you bring me to our…” his pupils blow wide, when he guesses what you are about to say,” …nest?”

Before you can say anything else, something indefinite glints in your lover’s eyes, and the next moment you find yourself thrown over his shoulder, and carried to the safety of your temporary ‘home’.

Thoma

Even two islands away, feet firmly planted on the Watatsumi grounds with your hand tightly clasped in a big warm one of your husband, it is still so hard to believe it. A whole two-week vacation the Kamisato Estate's housekeeper was granted by his blue-haired master. Two weeks of no duties, no running around doing seemingly endless errands, no coming home late, because he had to stay longer to check and make sure the estate’s grounds were spotless before some esteemed guests visit–

Two weeks of having the love of your life all to yourself.

You suspected that the one standing behind this sweet surprise was actually Lady Ayaka, whose friend you'd become soon after your husband - boyfriend at the time - made your relationship official and introduced you to the siblings per their request. You know she easily could, as she often expresses her sympathy when it comes to Thoma spending not only his day, but night as well at their residence completing the tasks.

If this is really the case, you'll have to thank her later, because you haven't seen your man be more excited about spending time with you in a while, and that elation was absolutely catchy and mutual.

Having no desire to attract any attention from the Sangonomiya Shrine, you opt to stay at your friend’s house in the Bourou Village, which, after the battles were over, started progressively growing as many people moved to live there, your friend and her family included.

First two days you slept like logs. As your friend told you on the first day, hardly concealing her laughter, she tried to wake you up around the afternoon to offer lunch before she’d go to work, but you only groaned and clinged to each other tighter, bodies practically intertwined, completely ignoring her words and presence. So she let you be, leaving the shoji doors slightly open for a small breeze to enter your room.

The next couple of days you spent exploring. Now rested and full of pent up energy Thoma wanted to look around, with your hand in his and a bag over his shoulder with some snacks and beverages. Kind elders tried to volunteer as your guides, but you kindly declined before your lover could say anything - it was your vacation after all, and you were willing to share the experience with him only.

That’s how you found this pretty cave - an azure glimmer played on pinkish walls, creating an absolutely magical atmosphere in the dimmed light of the grotto. The passage was quite narrow and hard to notice from a glance, so you kinda assumed people hardly came here.

Your own temporary romantic spot to be alone…

You kissed Thoma so hard when he suggested returning the next day.

The water is cool, but it is nothing of a problem for a pyro user. You test it with the tips of your toes, fingers busy with your clothes; warmth shoots all the way up, pleasantly pouring in your chest, and you exhale softly.

“Too hot?” The usual spring verdure in his eyes shines akin to the clearest emerald the jeweler could encounter, and you find yourself lost in their glow. Smiling, you draw your foot back and, shrugging one of the outer layers off, step closer to where he is crouching with his hand kept under water.

“No, honey, it’s perfect,” your fingers find their way in his short blond hair and gently ruffle, making the man mirror your smile.

“Well, if you say so,” ah, here his lovely face is - right in front of yours, gaze soft and adoring, melting your heart like a popsicle.

Thoma blissfully sighs against your mouth, when you purge your lips together. Warm palms instantly settle on your hips, while you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing your body closer to his, humming in pride when his breath hitches.

"But you know what, or rather who is hot?" The question leaves your lips just a second after his lips leave them. The tall man hums, lowering his head to lead a trail of soft pecks from the side of your jaw to your collarbones.

"Yeah… It's my wife," he says as a matter-of-factly, but so tenderly, planting a kiss right between your soft breasts, nose nudging the hems of your shirt further apart. You burst into giggles, reaching your hands to cradle his head and then bend down to kiss the top of it.

"I was actually meaning my husband," a murmur to his hair feels like a sacred secret, but to Thoma, who knows your heart, it's the truth he believes in.

You lower yourself into the water. The rise in temperature makes you shiver, and your breasts pleasurably tingle, nipples swelling and getting sensitive. With a soft bite on your lower lip, you slowly, barely graze the stiff nubs with the pads of your forefingers, and keen on the sensation. Only Archons know how long it has been since the last time you and your husband were intimate. You miss the weight of his warm body on top of yours, of his mind-blowing kisses, which grew desperate closer to the release, of his deep and steady thrusts, of the angelic noises escaping his unmarked throat…

You hope Thoma is having the same urges and is going to make love to you right here. Well, right after he finishes folding your clothes, of course. Yeah, habits die hard, especially if they are part of a working routine. But damn, do those ripped back and defined shoulder blades look nice…

When his body slides next to yours, you don't lose any second and settle in his lap, arms loosely resting on his shoulders and chest pushing against his. Comprehension flashes behind green eyes - the sultry look on your face and the way you press your bodies close are the giveaway of which mood you are in.

Your back slightly arches when two callused fingers slide between your folds, the pads pressing into your clit, giving it a small rub, as his mouth leaves open-mouthed kisses against the heated skin of your neck. Thoma shudders at your needy mewl, not even fighting the desire quickly rising in his chest and in the pit of his stomach.

He is going to remind you of how head over heels he is for you, and make this vacation truly memorable.

Even if it’s not in the aspect one would expect.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x fem!reader #kaedahara kazuha #tighnari #tighnari x reader #tighnari x fem!reader #thoma #thoma x reader #thoma x fem!reader #genshin impact smut #moonlit pearl stories

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sprout-fics · 1 year

Text

Machinations

(König x F! 'Maus' Reader)

Part 8 of Little Mouse

Word Count: 4.9k Rating: Teen and up Tags: Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Dark König, Hints of yandere König, König POV, Tending to wounds, Uneasy alliances, Jealousy, Unrequited pining Warnings: Mentions of brutal character death A/N: I am no longer doing a tag list for this series as it is has gotten too large to handle. Consider subscribing to this series on AO3 for updates

Sunset.

The Kodori range is pretty this time of year. In the dying embers of summer, the light takes on a golden hue, bronze and warm against the steep cliffs that harden with oncoming frost. In the golden hour before sunset the light ribbons through the Colchian forest, golden strands held aloft by invisible threads. It illuminates the muted greys and greens of the trees, coaxes them towards emerald, the birch a glinting silver.

A beast prowls these woods, his steps cloaked in silence, massive form brushing against thickets and yet still barely managing to make a sound. He's at home in these woods, knows their wilderness like the scars that trace his back, a map forged by history, struggle. He prowls with a primal awareness, steps measured, form hunched, coiled with a taut, focused tension like that of a predator.

Even so, König admits the dewy, golden sunlight reminds him of the illustrations in the fairytales he would read as a child. It streams through the canopy, catches bits of dust and pollen like fairy lanterns. There's a strange magic in these woods, an inexplicable energy that makes the ground seem softer, more pliant under his feet. Moss and pine needles, owl feathers that float down from above, a distant call ringing like the toll of a mournful church bell.

It isn't enough to distract him from his mission. Not when he's finally tracked the two enemy soldiers who have been on this mountain for half a day now, slowly and stealthily making their way through the groves to the periphery of the base where König's allies are guarding. They walk endlessly for hours, their endurance unwavering. He follows them at a guarded distance, blending into the foliage, tracing their steps with his own.

König had been told of this group before. British, mainly. Special forces without a doubt, arguably some of the finest soldiers on the planet. Enough to be an irremovable dagger in the side of KorTac's handler. Yet the information on them remained scarce. Like shadows into the night, they waver at the edge of flames brought from destruction- sinking back into the darkness. Spirits. Ghosts.

König had found two sets of footprints on his patrol. On larger, one smaller, both in the direction of the compound. Like a wolf in the woods König had tracked the scent, followed at a distance until at last he found them at a ruined building on the outskirts of the compound, quietly setting up camp for what appeared to be reconnaissance.

From a bluf above the sniper nest he watches, observes how these two ghosts secure themselves, concealing their forms under camouflage, hiding themselves from sight. It's unclear if they know what is inside the compound, sheltered and isolated as it is. Perhaps they think it's the warehouse of a maverick Russian general, an obscure hideout for an oligarch's private army. Maybe they don't know that the very enemy they seek is the same one that watches them keenly from the woods.

The conversation between you both is muted, consisting mostly of hand signals. Obscured in ghillie suits as you are he doesn't truly take stock until he watches the smaller of the pair pause, pull back their hood and shake their hair and face free.

He sees you then. You turn at the exact right moment, just as light seeps through the trees in a gentle, radiant hue. You don't see him, lifting a hand to blot out the dying sun at his back as you speak to your comrade. Yet the sun catches against your face anyways, glinting off your bright eyes, the tone of your skin, catching the color of your hair. He can hardly hear whatever you say, but for some reason you laugh, the sound muffled at this distance and yet feeling for all the world like the particles of feather light pollen that hover in that same sunlight.

König forgets himself for a moment then. The mission, his company, the intrusion you two pose to the compound, all of it fizzles out into nothingness for the briefest of moments. In its place König feels the strange magic of those childish fairytales appear once more, whispering with unknown words into his ears. Strange, unfamiliar incantations haunt the corners of his mind, and between it all he can make out only a single word, echoed from his own lips like a magic spell.

"...Schön."

-----

"Hey, focus."

König snaps to, blinking for a moment as he regards the man beside him. Aksel. The Norwegian is facing forward, looking at the table the rest of the KorTac operators are perched around. Yet his eyes slide over to König meaningfully, lips scowled into a frown.

"I am focused." König returns seething, arms crossed, gaze grazing across the table where his three other teammates converse.

"Aksel, König, pay attention." A voice snaps, and König's eyes land on the leader of the company, their captain. Declan O'Conor.

The Irishman fixes both König and Aksel in his narrowed stare, his hands braced on the steel table where a map is splayed. He doesn't speak, allowing his glinting, deadly stare to sink into both men, imbue them with an unspoken demand of obedience.

"Sir." Aksel murmurs deferentially beside König, his smaller stature shifting with unease for a moment before settling. König lets his eyes slide to the man, observing the way he crosses his arms, biceps bulging under his gear. Like König, he's brutally strong. The Austrian has seen him snap many an enemy soldier's neck with his bare hands. König himself still has a lingering bruise left from the last time the two of them sparred.

Sensing O'Conor's eyes on him still, König tilts his head at his captain, fixing him with a slow, blinking stare. He doesn't speak, and for a moment König thinks he might be reprimanded for that too, for not supplying an immediate response of acknowledgement.

Yet his defiant silence only seems to amuse O'Conor, for the captain's lips twist into a slight smile under the ginger hair of his beard.

"Right then." He declares, leaning up off the table and fasting his hands to his tac vest. The air in the room shifts, all eyes now focused on the Irishman. "With that out of the way, let's move to business."

König's brow arches under his hood, listening as O'Conor's face settles into a serious grimace.

"We have actionable intel that says the 141 is ready to hit one of our supply rendezvous points in Serbia. Roze-" He turns to the dark haired woman to his left. "This is the cache you set up, so you're taking point on this op, understood?"

König's eyes slide to the smallest member of the team. Roze. Their supplier, their strategist and intelligence operator. Slender, subtle, König has seen her work from the shadows. Like a snake, she hides in the underbrush, coiled ready with hungry, glinting eyes. A wry smile crawls across her lips, and for a moment König sees her glance at him with a smug, hidden knowledge.

"Affirm, cap." She returns, voice even but failing to contain her excitement. "Who's coming with me?"

"That'll be Aksel and König." O'Conor returns, and König's eyes widen at that, surprised. Yet that shock is hidden under his hood with a glower, irritation simmering low inside him. He doesn't like working with Roze. Aksel, he can manage. The two men have come to an understanding in the course of their time working together, though perhaps not a brotherhood of sorts.

Roze, however, he can't help with dislike. The woman is full of hidden agendas and concealed plot. She seems to see straight through the men around her with her keen, knowing gaze. Yet that knowledge is hidden under a needling, almost malicious teasing that digs uncomfortably into König's skin. He feels transparent around her at times, and the realization that Roze may somehow know more about him that he cares to admit is a wavering, thorny discomfort at the edge of his periphery.

"Sir-" A voice states, and four sets of eyes turn to O'Conor's right, revealing the final and fifth member of their team. Horangi.

The Korean's eyes are hidden under his sunglasses, worn even indoors in the crackling, fluorescent lighting of their planning room at their base of operations. A mask conceals the lower half of his face. Like König, the soldier has scars he refuses to bear, the silvered flesh revealing secrets about his past only he cares to know. Despite that, the man is fairly outwardly spoken, his voice a calm, steadying presence that binds the uneasy alliances within the team.

"König has been on the last two missions. Allow me to go."

König tilts his head in consideration, watching the sniper. Horangi keeps his eyes locked on their captain, ever attentive, entirely focused on his mission, gaze unwavering. His eyes never falter from their target, watching like a tiger from the jungle, unblinking, predatory in their fixation when he's behind the scope of a rifle.

König almost wants to shoot the man a grateful glance, but is stopped when O'Conor speaks again.

"No, you're still recovering from your last encounter with this team. I need your arm completely healed before I send you back into the field, understood?"

Horangi deflates an inch, but he never breaks eyes contact with the captain.

"Understood, Sir." He replies, voice clipped. Yet when O'Conor's eyes turn back towards Aksel and König, König sees Horangi offer him a small, conciliatory shrug. The Austrian smiles under his hood, despite knowing his friend can't see it.

"Good." O'Conor declares. "I'll be coordinating from off-site. As I said, Roze is on point for this mission. Should the comms go down or anything happen that I can't help with, it'll be Roze's call to make. Clear?"

"Affirmative." Aksel confirms, but König narrows his eyes at the woman beside his captain, her head tilted a little haughtily at him. He sneers.

"Crystal." König at last responds, voice betraying his displeasure. Yet O'Conor doesn't comment on it, not yet at least. Instead, he nods at Roze, who withdraws another smaller map from her side before splaying it across the table before the team. She begins detailing the logistics of the mission- transportation, targets, enemy movements, expected timelines and ex-fil.

König listens half attentively, idly soaking in the information but providing no questions or comments. Again, his thoughts begin to wander, eyes going blank as a different image begins to filter across his gaze, replacing the scene before him.

----

"Please." You whisper, eyes bright in the dimness of the safehouse. You've taken another step closer to him, like a gentle thing trying to tame a wild, hungry beast. König's eyes fix on you, his heart thumping erratically, excited as you raise a hand to him. Beckoning, an entreaty.

There's an anxiousness in your eyes that pulls at a part of him, makes the primal, starving part of his pull taut with a barely restrained eagerness that hums through his coiled form. Like a wolverine watching a rabbit in the glade, König can't quell the instinct to reach out, pull you to him, see the glint in your eyes up close melt into something softer, something like desire.

"I'll do anything you ask-" He watches, eyes settling on the plush bed of your lower lip as you speak. "So please don't hurt him."

Anything.

He loses himself for a moment then, forgetting his mission, his duty, the man at the other end of his gun. Instead, the world narrows down to just you, your smaller form drawing close, almost close enough to reach out and touch him. The phantom sensation of your fingers grazing across his form is enough to make König stifle a shiver. His mind runs wild with possibilities, of taking you, of escaping with you in his arms, of finally, finally having you completely to himself.

He feels like an electric coil, lightning fizzing in his thoughts, the sparks of him barely constrained. His heartbeat drums higher, like the adrenaline fueled thump of a rabbit caught in a snare. Under your eyes, your anxious, glinting gaze König can't help but feel, for a moment, as if he's the prey here, awaiting the fatalistic end of your touch.

"Anything, Maus?" He asks, unable to contain the tremble of excitement in his voice, watching the way realization, burning and bright, passes over your gaze.

He loses himself in the possibilities. The memory of your form, small, lovely in his arms, tiny like a baby bird and yet imbued with surprising strength, resilience, makes his blood sing a primal, thrilled symphony.

He smiles.

"Then-" He takes a step closer, eyes flashing, heartbeat rising. You're so close now. if he just reaches out-

He sheathes his blade, the blood still coating his fingertips, eyes never leaving your smaller form.

""If I ask, you'll come with me?"

----

"-The taskforce-"

König blinks, ears honing in on the mention of your company. It's Roze talking now, one hand cupped under her chin in thought as she regards the maps. When König shifts, however, her eyes flicker up to him for all of a moment with a keen, knowing smile.

"We don't know how many members there will be. However, considering the specifications of the team members I can make a guess as to who will be on the mission for sure."

Her fingers land on a set of photos near the edge of the map, stopping first over a man with a mohawk.

König recognizes him. The one who stole you away after you were injured in Uzbekistan, hiding you from sight and tending to the wound that the team had allowed you to receive.

"MacTavish." Roze declares almost absently. "He's their demolitions expert. If they decide to bring down the warehouse as opposed to taking control of it like I expect, we should expect him."

"Agreed." O'Conor concurs, and his own hand drifts towards a different photo- a man, grizzled and bearded. He reminds König a bit of Declan himself, exuding an unquestionable authority with his stare alone.

"Price." He announces. "Skilled in convert operations. They'll need to go in quiet, and knowing him, he'll want to do this himself."

"You know him." König speaks at last, and it's not really a question so much as a demand for information, eyes narrowed, head cocked curiously as he leans on the wall behind him.

"I did." O'Conor answers simply, but König sees the way his eyes grow distant, angry, hurt. "Once."

Interesting.

König makes a note to study the thought later, recognizing by the expression written on O'Conor's face that he's unwilling to share more. Yet when his eyes flick to Roze, she doesn't seem surprised at all, instead staring back at König, watching his eyes for any indication to his thoughts.

He returns the gaze passively, refusing to allow her the privilege of seeing inside his mind. She huffs a little, but then, curiously, offers him of all things a smile.

"And her-" She declares, and her fingers stop over one more photo, and König can't contain his surprise under his mask when he recognizes it.

You.

"Their sniper. No doubt Price will have her on overwatch as he and MacTavish clear the interior. She'll be the first to notice if anything is off."

"You think she'll be alone?" Horangi asks, tone lilting in disbelief.

"She's capable." Roze returns. "Sneaky, as I'm sure some of us have seen." Her eyes dart to König, and he makes another note to ask what that is about later.

"She's surprisingly slippery too, like a rat. Hard to trap."

A mouse. König corrects silently, frowning.

The thought that your captain would send you out alone to cover him and MacTavish, put you by yourself, vulnerable, chafes at the inside of König's thoughts. The reminder that this is the same team that allowed you to get hurt, that allowed you to get captured, makes irritation simmer inside him. They don't know how to take care of you. Not like he can.

Still, the familiar excitement of getting to see you again shivers inside him. The idea that with every encounter he peels away a little more of your shield towards him, revealing the beauty, the intoxicating honesty beneath your stare makes a familiar rise of warmth flush through him. He wants it, wants to hear your voice, wants to see the dizzying truth of you, the way the steel exterior of you melts away into something softer, more tender.

"We'll rig the building." Roze declares, and that draws König's attention. "Moving most of our supplies first covertly, and then using it as bait to trap and hopefully eliminate Price and MacTavish."

O'Conor hums then, a hand grazing his beard in thought.

"MacTavish, their sniper, I don't care about. Price however-" and there's a glint in his eyes then that makes König pause, try to understand his abrupt fixation on the enemy captain.

"I want him alive."

Roze hesitates, brow furrowing as she digests the expression on her captain's face. She looks like she wants to challenge him, mouth briefly opening before she decides against it.

"Fine." She then turns to Aksel and König. "You have full execute authority for MacTavish and the other. Price is to be captured. Copy?"

König doesn't respond, desperately trying to hide his growing panic at the thought of you getting caught by either of his team members. The image of your eyes going blank, your final memory a single flash of red at the end of Roze's aim, of your face caught between two of Aksel's massive hands, mouth opening in a desperate plea before there's a sickening crack-

He shivers.

"Copy." Aksel manages beside him, and König's eyes find Roze's once more, glaring.

"...Copy." He offers, even as his stomach churns with a putrid, hateful anxiety.

"Good." Roze offers, and her smile is sickly sweet somehow, knowing. It coats the back of König's tongue and leaves a burning aftertaste. "Captain?"

O'Conor nods once, seemingly satisfied. He looks up, regards the operators in his team before nodding once more.

"You have your orders." He states evenly. "Do not fail. Dismissed."

The rest of the team stands at attention, and on instinct König does as well, his eyes trailing O'Conor as the man vanishes beyond the doorway of the planning room. König waits until the other have begun to follow, shuffling and ducking under the too short doorway before making strides down the corridor.

He doesn't get all of ten steps before there's a voice behind him, high and feminine, teasing.

"Gott im Himmel." He mutters to himself, head raising as if asking the heavens for absolution as Rozlin trots up to catch him. He turns, fists already curled in irritation. "What?"

Roze pouts up at him, eyes twinkling in mischief.

"Oh, don't be like that big guy." She whines, a single finger prodding at him. it only makes his frown deepen, face drawing into a scowl. "We're going to be working together, you should try and be nice to me for once."

He brushes her hand aside. yet the motion does little to deter her, seems to only encourage her as she smiles.

"What do you want, Rozlin?" König asks tersely, not bothering to hide his irritation. "I'm busy."

"Busy being distracted, you mean?" She asks impishly, and König feels a prickle of warning crawl across his shoulders at that. it must show through his eyes, because Rozlin seizes on it, like a coyote with a piece of meat. "I saw you in the meeting. You were zoning out."

"I was bored." He shoots back. "Your plans are not exactly enthralling, frau."

There's a thrum of satisfaction when Roze actually does look annoyed at that. Yet then that annoyance fades as that damned, knowing smile crawls across her lips once more.

"You didn't seem so bored when I mentioned her." She purrs.

König stiffens.

Shock, a dawning horror at the realization that somehow she's found it, that she knows about this secret infatuation he's developed has him pausing, muscles drawn tight in shock. Yet he tamps down on it as quickly as he can, refusing to offer Roze even an inch of ground on which to advance.

"I don't know who you're talking about." He seethes in return despite the uneven thump of his heartbeat.

"Oh?" Roze doesn't buy it. He can tell. There's a keen, sinister grin twitching on her lips. It digs at him, inside him, sends a prickle of defensive fury tickling along the underside of his skin. "You're telling me all this sneaking around on missions you've been doing has been for no reason? That you didn't linger in that safehouse in Mozambique to see her?"

"Unlike you-" König growls, stepping forward, looming over the smaller operator. "I have more important things to worry about than keeping track of a single enemy sniper."

It's a movement meant to intimidate her, and for a moment he sees Roze's eyebrows rise, craning her head to look up at the taller soldier. Yet when she opens her mouth to retort, there's another voice that floats down the hallway.

"König."

Both König and Roze turn, catching sight of their own sniper hovering at the edge of their conversation. he glances between them, taking stock of the confrontation before turning to König.

"I need to assess your stitches before you're deployed." He states calmly, almost clinically, voice careful not to provoke either of his team members. Then he turns to Roze. "I'll be borrowing him for a few minutes."

It's not a request, but neither is it a demand. Horangi's voice is smooth, even as he speaks, as if talking down an animal.

Roze wrinkled her nose at him in distaste, obviously displeased the sniper has ruined her fun. Still, she takes a step back, withdraws so she can regard both men fully.

"Fine." She bites with a roll of her eyes. "Go on an see the doc, big guy."

Roze turns with a little dismissive wave, pausing to give König a look over her shoulder.

"And König? Remember to kill your food after playing with it." She hums, then paces down the corridor back the way she came.

König watches her leave, still trying to tame the simmering frustration and anxiety roiling in his blood. Roze's needling, her smug knowledge, her ceaseless almost malicious teasing reminds him too much of the things he used to endure, of sneering expressions and laughing voices that even now makes anger, red and warm, flush through him.

Horangi settles beside him, watching Roze vanish around a corner before at last looking up to the taller man beside him.

"What was that about?" He asks curiously, and König only shakes his head.

"Nothing." He murmurs, trying to clear his thoughts before looking to the shorter soldier. "What was it you said? Ah, my arm, right."

Horangi offers only a small nod before jerking his head down the hallway, towards an unused room. König follows, larger form all but dwarfing his friend.

It doesn't take long before König is divested of most of his gear, shirt removed so their temporary medic can properly assess the long, snaking wound left as a parting gift to him by Garrick.

"You were lucky." Horangi tells him, lifting a single hefty arm above him to peer at the underside of König’s tricep. "If you hadn't reacted quick enough, he could have sliced through your artery. You could have bled out."

"I know." König growls, the reminder smarting against his skin. He didn't consider himself an easy man to get the drop on, and the fact that Garrick had not only managed to avoid being shot, but had injured him as well was as worthy of irritation as it was of respect.

One he'd have to return the favor for.

The reminder of your smile, of your easy gentleness and camaraderie around the sergeant itches at him. One of his legs bounces against the floor. Impatient. Irritated.

He's seen you with Garrick a few times now. First in the forest, at sundown, hours before you had even set eyes on him for the first time. Your laugh, bright and airy, echoed out in response to something Garrick had said. König had seen the way the sergeant's eyes had softened at the sound, his lips a tender, pleased smile.

So too had König seen the way you'd clung to his arm in Mozambique, hidden as he was from the shadows of an alleyway as he hastened to the safehouse before you could beat him there. The gesture then had been a feigned one, meant to disillusion any passerby around you into thinking you two were simply a couple. Even so, König had seen it then too, the hidden smile Garrick tucked away from your worried expression.

Even now he can hear the accusation the sergeant had levied at him, thunderous, venomous, absolutely fatal in his intent.

"Don't touch her!!"

"If you hurt her again, I'll-"

König hadn't had time to deal with it then, but now the reminder of his words made him scowl under his hood. Hurt you? His Maus? Of course, König could see why the sergeant made that assumption, but it remained far from the truth. Kong would never hurt you. He wasn't above stealing you away to some place quiet, ensuring you were safe from the hail of gunfire and smoke, but hurting you?

A grumble, low and deep, rumbles from him just as Horangi prods at one of the stitches close to his elbow.

"Ah, I'm sorry." He offers to König, but the Austrian merely shrugs, not caring to explain the true source of his irritation.

Yet then Horangi pauses, and without looking at him König knows he has fastened him with his gaze.

"What?" He asks without meeting the Korean's stare.

"She's right, you know." He starts gently. "You...have been distracted."

Ah, so he did hear that conversation after all König realizes, closing his eyes with an irritated sigh.

"I'm tired." He explains half-heartedly. "I barely got a chance to breathe after getting back from Minsk before I was sent out to Mozambique."

Horangi nods, seemingly accepting the explanation he's been given. Even if he doesn't believe it, König is grateful that he doesn't press the issue.

"She wants to get a rise out of you." He states then, and König blinks, looks at him. Horangi keeps an even stare with the larger man. "Roze, I mean. She likes getting reactions from people, and it's easy with you."

"She's a petty little witch." König hisses in return, scowling. "Why O'Conor keeps her around is more than I can understand."

"You haven't thought about it?" Horangi asks then, pressing an inch forward, only for König to automatically draw back. "That she and O'Conor seem to know more than the rest of us?"

König pauses. He hadn't really considered it before. He took this job because he enjoyed the adrenaline rush of being in the field, the ring of bullet rounds singing against his veins and thrumming through his ribs. He craved it, loved the violence of it, the bloom of red against a wall with the slash of his knife in the throat of a worthy opponent, the disastrous cacophony of a frag grenade thrown into a hiding space, echoed by his thunderous battle cry.

"No." He responds, slowly, curiously, eyeing Horangi from the corner of his vision.

Horangi settles backwards in his seat, stripping his hands of the latex gloves he used to inspect König’s arm.

"I think about it." He declares simply. "We were never told where our funds come from, our supplies, we're only paid enough not to ask questions."

König watches him, at last locking on Horangi's gaze, trying to find something beneath his sunglasses, trying to discern the true meaning of his stare.

"There's something here we don't know about." Horangi offers at last, voice low, distant. A warning.

König scoffs then, ignoring the prickle of awareness, of curiosity that itches along his thoughts.

"Think about it on your own time." He mutters dismissively, reaching for his shirt and gear. "And make sure your own injury is healed before your next mission. After all-" and he turns, offers a tilt of his head that betrays the smile under his hood. "If you were killed, who would stitch me up after?"

Horangi chuckles at that, with a little toss of his head that lets König know he's rolling his eyes.

"You're all set. Try not to get injured this time, so I have more of my own time to think." He offers as König stands with a roll of his shoulders that has his joints pop. "And don't forget to bring home your captive."

König smiles then, under his hood, feeling a familiar excitement boil higher in his veins. His heartbeat picks up, racing in time with his thoughts. Hungry, driven, fixated on the thought of you once more, of your wide eyes as he springs his trap on you, hands reaching forward to grasp you once more.

"No." He promises, grinning, shivering with an untamed, frenetic energy. "I won't."

#König #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x oc #cod mw22 #fic: little mouse #my writing #my fic #reader insert #Don't expect anything from me for the next 5-7 business days I'm spent

586 notes · View notes

tirkras · 3 months

Text

[Angst/Fluff]brainrot will be with Sam x Emily now.

I came up with a name for them, it's: Sammily or Drugbook

there may be semantic or grammatical mistakes here, since I use a translator.

In general, Emily's parents do not approve of their daughter's relationship with Sam because he does not study well, and for a long time there have been rumors that Sam uses magnets (LMFAO SOBBING)

Emily is quite naive and her relationship with Sam is like "I can fix him" (most likely based on romantic books that she reads). Emily's knowledge of love and vision in this area are based only on romantic books that she has read. And as we know, everything is idealized and romanticized there. I think Emily's first love was not what she imagined.

The guy is a drug addict who reciprocated her purely out of pity and then drunk. This relationship didn't last long and Emily was very disappointed. She probably hasn't read romance novels since(but it's like, thoughts out loud).

Most likely, Emily fell in love first and was afraid to admit it to him for a long time. And when she confessed, it seems to me that Sam was drugged and reciprocated her feelings. And when he came to his senses, he could no longer get out with the words "I was wrong" , etc. because it would break Emily's heart. It seems to me that despite his chilliness, Sam somehow cares about the feelings of others. But over time, he gets attached to her, but the addiction turns out to be stronger. And Emily will also find out the truth(they'll get through this together.)

Unfortunately, Sam will not give up "drugs" and his addiction is getting stronger. Emily will not be able to "fix" him and will be very disappointed in him, as well as in herself.

Their relationship will end in a breakup, they will break up.

Well, now we'll go back to the fluff because angst is bitter.

The funny headcanon is probably Emily's passion for writing novels. She composes poems and stories herself and writes them in her diary. This is not a personal diary (although she clearly keeps one), these are separate diaries for her work.

Since she started dating Sam, she's had a separate diary for his bad tapes. Sam tells what bizarre visions and plots he sees in front of him and Emily writes it down in her diary where she will later make up a complete and elaborated story from all this nonsense of a drug addict.

Sam also tried to write poetry for fun, but his poems for Emily were not so prosaic and, in principle, refined, unlike Emily's poems. He always praises her writing, no matter how mediocre it sometimes is, even if he doesn't understand what's going on there at all.

Sometimes Sam illustrates her writings. Headcanon points out that Sam draws well💥

It seems to me that sometimes Sam draws Emily in his notebooks while distracted in class (for this he gets a lull from the Teacher)

Friends sometimes laugh at him because in general, what did he see in this nerd? But Sam laughs it off or snaps back every time, depending on his mood and degree of sobriety.

It also seems to me that he could have fought with Chad because of his tough joke about Emily💥

Back to angst.

Sam promised to quit drugs for Emily, he promised her. And at first he was holding up well, it seems that their relationship began to improve. But when a severe withdrawal occurred, Sam could not stand it and broke down.

This was the last straw in Emily's patience and her already cracked pink glasses shattered. She was hurt, hurt and sad. I think they broke up at this point.

It seems to me that on the evening of that day, Emily cried for a long time in her room, not letting anyone in. And she also asked her father not to let Sam in to her (he tried to explain and apologize to her, but Emily's dad kicked him out as soon as he appeared on the doorstep).

In the morning, she gave Sam the diaries with his bad tapes that she kept and also his clumsy poems, his drawings and all his gifts, and told him not to interact with her in any way anymore. Sam respected her choice, even though he was against it. They haven't spoken since.

And now back to the canon and the time of the fourth episode. I want there to be at least something between them, so:

I think at this time Sam and Emily could have been at odds over some small thing like: "You forgot to bring your camera" and something like "I'm not talking to you"

When Uzi went feral, they scattered and Emily tried to find Sam.

I think she could have been sitting under a tree and praying that Sam would find her and they could run away together, but Uzi found her.

If I add more angst, then I can say that Sam ran away in the first place, but then calmed down a little and ran in search of Emily and Uzi lured him with her. You know, just like with Lizzie, but instead of Lizzie, there's Sam.

As a result, Uzi tears Emily apart in front of Sam and pierces him with its tail, tearing him apart.

It turns out that they died in a small quarrel without apologizing to each other. Well, or you can do it in some other way, but I want angst.

I must say right away that I'm not saying that Sam is bad or Emily is bad, they're just silly

I really love angst and slow burn :3

That's the kind of brainstorming I had. Of course, you may have a different vision of this ship, and I hope you liked my vision! Also, I don't know if you can take it seriously, because I made it all up for fun. It was really fun and I love this ship.

#sam x emily #sammily #drugbook #murder drones sam #murder drones emily #murder drones ships #murder drones crackship #murder drones headcanon #headcanon #ship #brainrotting about it....#shitpost?????#murder drones #glitch productions #murder drones fandom

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 2 months

Text

If You’re Lost, Just Look for Me (ao3)

Happy @sjmromanceweek day 4!! ❤️

When Cassian is called away to Illyria for a whole week, Nesta finds her mate has left her something behind - several somethings, in the form of letters hidden throughout the House of Wind. Set post-ACOSF.

Castor looked out across the mountains crowned with snow, feeling the wind caress his wings. It felt like a whisper. Like a kiss— like her kiss, and even though the drums of war were already pounding far below, he could only think of her. Her dark eyes and her midnight hair and the way it curled against the nape of her neck.

The woman he had left behind.

Illyrians weren’t supposed to be romantic. Weren’t supposed to fall hard.

But with the gods as his witness, he looked to the sky and cursed the distance between this rock-strewn battlefield and the bed he’d left both his lover and half his soul behind in. No, Illyrians weren’t supposed to fall hard, but he’d fallen harder than he’d ever expected. Harder than—

“Nesta!”

The silence cleaved beneath a clap, sharp and insistent and followed by the snapping of familiar, paint-stained fingers. The voice echoed through the library as the image in Nesta’s head shattered, like the surface of a lake after the throwing of a rock.

“Are you even listening?”

No.

She wasn’t.

Slowly, Nesta Archeron looked up from the pages of her book. Already scowling - and absolutely not in the mood today - she flicked her eyes over the cloth-bound spine and took in the sight before her. Her sister, standing there with her tattooed hand extended, fingers braced to snap for a third time. Nesta’s brows lowered, and the huff that left her was one she tried only half-heartedly to bury.

“I called your name,” Feyre said, arching one elegant eyebrow now that she had her sister’s attention at last. “Twice.”

Nesta’s attention drifted pointedly back down to the pages of her book. One shoulder lifted in an idle shrug. “I was busy.”

“Clearly.”

The High Lady of the Night Court snorted and leaned a hip against the rolled arm of the sofa that sat opposite Nesta’s own. Her eyes dropped to the front cover of the book Nesta held in her hands, her expression turning to one of soft amusement as she took in the illustration of the shirtless Illyrian warrior, his arms around the shoulders of a young woman whose dress hung half off her slender frame. Feyre pressed her lips together, eyes dancing in a way that Nesta knew meant her sister was trying hard to suppress a small laugh, and any other day…

Any other day, Nesta might have humoured her sister. Might have raised an eyebrow and asked wryly if she wanted to join the Valkyrie Book Club.

Not today, though.

Today Nesta said nothing, only lifted her chin and fixed an expression of indifferent hauteur over her face. Feyre could giggle all she wanted, but the book had been waiting for Nesta when she’d opened her eyes that morning, placed deliberately and carefully on Cassian’s side of the bed. His empty side of the bed— because, thanks to Feyre’s mate, Cassian had left at dawn for a week-long stint in Illyria, and Nesta had been left with nothing but that book propped against his pillow, like it was to serve as his replacement for the next few days.

The House had a sense of humour like that— exchanging one Illyrian warrior for another.

But Nesta would be a liar if she said his absence wasn’t already starting to make her feel like the world had been tipped on its axis, and facing down the prospect of seven whole days without hearing his voice or seeing his eyes or feeling his calloused palms so eager to slide over her skin…

She supposed she could be forgiven for seeking complete distraction from the depths of her books today. Forgiven, too, for her resounding lack of patience.

“I came to see you,” Feyre said breezily as Nesta dropped her eyes back down to the pages still spread open before her. “Since Cassian’s away and all.”

“Yes,” Nesta answered tightly, glowering at the words on the page. “Do thank your mate for that for me.”

Feyre’s eyes danced, her lips straining to contain the smile that threatened to spread across her face. “Cassian wasn’t all that happy about leaving either, if it helps.”

“It doesn’t. Your mate was the one insisting that he go.”

“Rhys didn’t insist,” she countered, plucking at a piece of lint on her sleeve in a gesture so absurdly Rhysand it made Nesta clench her jaw. “He just… reminded Cassian that he can’t be on honeymoon forever.”

Nesta snorted. Honeymoon, indeed. It had been a grand total of six weeks since their mating ceremony. Six.

And now camp inspections had called Nesta’s mate to Illyria, and even though Cassian had been more than content to let them slide, just this once, their oh-so-benevolent High Lord had maintained that they could not allow their grip in the mountains to slip for even a second. Ergo, Rhys had reasoned, Cassian still needed to be seen to be carrying out even the smallest of his duties as general. Ordinarily, Cassian had argued, he wouldn’t hesitate to spend a week in Illyria calling out the faults of the camp lords.

But right now, Rhys? Really?

He had looked pointedly at Nesta as he’d said it, as if hoping to remind Rhys that Cassian had a mate of his own now, and one so newly bonded he could hardly stand to leave for a minute, never mind a week.

But still Rhys had insisted, and so after two days of preparation, Cassian had left that morning, slipping from their bed before the sun had even begun to stain the horizon.

It had made a tinderbox of Nesta’s temper.

She sighed through her nose now, only dimly aware that her sister continued speaking. She caught the odd word— dinner, river house, tomorrow night, but truthfully Nesta just wanted to bury herself in her books until these seven days were up. She couldn’t even count on Azriel for company, since the Shadowsinger was off on one of his missions too.

“Alright,” Feyre said after a solid three minutes of talking to what might as well have been a wall. “I get the hint.” She threw her hands up in surrender. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything…”

“I’ll let you know,” Nesta answered blandly.

Feyre nodded once, pushing away from the arm of the sofa and striding across the floor of the House library until she reached the door. She didn’t look back until she reached the threshold, where, with her hand curling around the brass doorknob, Feyre at last looked over her shoulder.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, that ribbon of a smile pushing once more against her lips. “Rhys did say he checked in with Cassian this morning.”

Nesta glowered. “And?”

Feyre’s face softened. “He said to tell you he’s missing you already.”

Nesta blinked, looking up in earnest from the pages of her book. Her throat tightened, and the bond twining around her ribs seemed to clamour, snatching at the second-hand words. She didn’t usually wish she possessed Feyre’s gifts, but on days like this… oh, Nesta wished she could reach out and speak to him, to hear his voice even when he was a thousand miles away.

Before she could tell Feyre to pass along the message that she missed him too, her sister shot her a wink and slipped through that door, leaving Nesta alone with nothing but her silence and her books and the longing surging within her that threatened to crush her beneath its weight.

And she had seven days of this to endure.

Sharply, Nesta huffed.

Stupid— all of it was so immeasurably stupid. Cassian had been gone for a grand total of ten hours, and yet Nesta already felt like she was at sea without him. The House was too quiet, the space beside her too empty, and even though she’d always done perfectly well on her own, always found comfort in solitude… something was different this time. Perhaps because Cassian had been called away when neither of them wanted distance, or perhaps because their lives had slotted together so easily, so simply, that there was no painless way of drawing them apart. Either way, Nesta found that although she usually enjoyed being alone… she enjoyed it best when Cassian was only a room or two away.

“Pull yourself together, Nesta,” she muttered darkly to herself, sitting up straighter against the cushions and clearing her throat. Determined, she forced her attention back to her book, the pages shifting as she adjusted her grip.

And as she did, her fingers loosening on the pages towards the back—

A small square of parchment tumbled out, fluttering down to her lap. From the crisp whiteness of it and the way it was folded, it was clear it wasn’t some old scrap used as a bookmark, and—

It had her name on it.

Nesta’s curiosity piqued, and something in her chest began to grow unbearably tight as every nerve she possessed seemed to shiver with recognition. It smelled familiar, like cinnamon and leather, calling to mind lazy morning kisses and arms wrapping around her from behind to pull her against the chest she had traced every single inch of with her fingers.

It smelled like Cassian.

The familiar scent had her aching, like the fading impression he’d left behind on that note was a ghost slipping through her fingers, barely substantial enough to grasp. But grasp Nesta did, reaching desperately for any lingering piece of him— anything her mate had left her.

Folded, the note was no larger than the palm of her hand, but Nesta looked at her name written in the hand almost as well-known to her as her own - penned with a flourish in ink as dark as the night sky, crisp and sharp - and felt her heart skip several beats as her fingers scrambled to break the small crimson seal.

Hello, Nes, her mate had written.

I’m curious— how long did it take you to find this one? I must have been gone, what, seven hours by now? Maybe eight? Any more and I’ll be disappointed. Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this particular novel. I had Emerie get ahold of it for me, since I figured it might help you remember the Illyrian warrior you have of your own whilst I’m away.

Anyway, I know you’ll already be going out of your mind without me there, but like the perfect mate that I am, I’ve thought of the perfect way to remind you how much I love you, just in case you forget. I know I told you I’ve been spending these past two days preparing to leave for Illyria, but I’ve also been hiding some of these little notes throughout the House for you to find— and what better hiding place than deep within the pages of a book?

You know I’ll miss you every second I’m away, sweetheart, and I know it’s not much, but you always said you wanted me to write you love letters so… here I am. It’s taken me an age to hide them all - you really do have too many books, sweetheart - but when I get home you can tell me all about how diverting I am, and how wonderfully I compare to the heroes in your books.

Love you!

P.S - The notes aren’t all in your books. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I, princess?

It was remarkable how quickly Nesta’s sour mood dissipated.

Something in her chest lifted— like the great, uncomfortable weight that had settled behind her ribs when Cassian had left that morning was lifted a little, just enough to let her see the sun behind the clouds. A delighted laugh bubbled to her lips as she read the note again— and again, just to savour each word.

It was such a tiny thing, so small and innocuous, that little scrap of paper bearing her name.

And yet it was a thing beyond value; immeasurable proof that she was loved and cared for and wanted, and that even as Cassian had prepared to drag himself away from their home, she had been the only thing at the forefront of his mind.

Nesta brushed her fingers lightly across the page, a tender smile blossoming at the corners of her mouth. She could practically feel Cassian winking at her, teasing her like he hadn’t gone away at all, and the arrogance dripping from every word he’d written was enough to make her breathe another quiet laugh.

You can tell me all about how diverting I am, and how wonderfully I compare to the heroes in your books.

Nesta snorted. Cassian had found a way to bridge the distance between them and had used it as an opportunity to peacock. She might have rolled her eyes had her gaze not snagged on that brief love you! at the end, and the single kiss he’d scored into the paper.

Nobody had ever told Nesta they loved her— not really, not the way Cassian did.

And so it meant the world and more to her now, every single time it he said it. It made her soften in the way she only ever did for him, so entirely disarmed by his charm and irreverence and faultless dedication.

And gods, he’d found her an Illyrian romance.

Nesta supposed such things were few and far between, given how opposed to such things the Illyrians were, and she’d assumed that the House had been the one to leave it out for her, but no— it was Cassian who had somehow, with Emerie’s help, gotten hold of it and left it out for her, along with the note buried inside. Along with several notes, apparently, like he simply hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of leaving without first having found a way of letting her know, every single day, that he loved her even to distraction.

Love you!

It warmed some long-neglected corner of her heart, breathed life back into the pieces of her she’d thought too far gone for anyone to revive, and as Nesta glanced up at the shelves running along the walls of the House library, not for the first time when it came to her mate did she feel a sense of depthless wonder sparking inside.

There were… hundreds of them.

Thousands of pages Cassian might have secreted a letter between.

It was almost daunting, almost seemed impossible, but Nesta looked once more at the note in her hands, lingering on that last love you! scrawled at the bottom of the page.

And when the House rather pointedly slid one of those old books out an inch from its shelf, Nesta glanced up to the ceiling with a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Rising to her feet and placing the Illyrian romance down gently on the low table before the hearth, she said,

“Well, then. We’d better start looking.”

***

Three hours yielded only one more letter.

Every other volume Nesta had pulled from the shelves had been empty, and though she flicked through page after endless page, she came away with nothing. With the sun beginning to set and a line of shelves stretching before her still waiting to be searched, Nesta might have given up. Might have— had the singular note she had found not been enough to keep her going, to keep the fire inside her burning.

Sweetheart, it began.

I honestly think I might kill Rhys for making me leave. I get his point— especially after the shit the camp lords pulled this spring, it won’t hurt to reassert our authority. Trust me, I’ll be making Devlon crawl by the end, but gods fucking spare me, I can think of a thousand things I’d rather be doing instead, and every single one of them includes you. I can hardly bear the thought of being so far away from you— not hearing your voice each night before I sleep. The truth is that nothing feels right without you, and my darling brother is going to wish he’d never been born when I’m through with him, I swear.

You and Feyre can tease me as much as you want princess, but I admit it. I’m lost without you— an Illyrian baby through and through. And I suppose I’m a filthy liar too, sweetheart, because you’re in the room with me right now as I write this, sitting there reading one of your novels - by the way, have I told you how much I love the way you bite your lip when you’re reading? - under the impression that I’m currently writing out lists of instructions to hand to the camp lords. I’m not writing instructions at all. I’m writing this, and praying you don’t come look over my shoulder and ruin the fun before it starts.

All this is to say… I love you, Nesta.

I don’t think I’ve said it enough. A hundred times a day wouldn’t be enough, and I promise that as soon as these seven days are over, I’ll be back by your side showing you exactly how much I missed you. Until then…

Always yours,

Cassian.

She’d had to sit down for a minute after reading that one, especially once she reached always yours.

Hers— yes, he was hers.

It almost didn’t matter that the sun was dropping towards the horizon now, that it had been hours since she’d found that last letter. Didn’t matter either, Nesta thought as she knelt within a circle of discarded books, that there was an endless number still to search through.

He was hers.

The words had something clicking, a spark in her memory.

The words aren’t all in your books, Cassian had written as a post-script in that initial letter.

Can’t make it too easy for you, can I, princess?

And Nesta remembered, too, how Azriel had sat in the small sitting room a level below three nights ago, a book in his own hands as the night grew darker and the hour grew later. Nesta had been curled in a chair of her own, only barely paying attention. She had only really noticed the Shadowsinger at all because Cassian had leaned down and whispered in her ear,

‘See, Nes? That’s what a real book looks like.’

The book in question had been some dry non-fiction, thick as brick, and Nesta hadn’t even bothered to really note the title beyond a couple of cursory words, but…

Slowly, recognition began to skitter up her spine. He wouldn’t, she thought carefully, taking in the piles of books surrounding her, all of them having yielded nothing. Surely he wouldn’t.

Except…

This was Cassian, the man with a mischievous spirit who took nothing seriously. His two most favourite things in the world seemed to be teasing her and riling Azriel. Of course he’d decide that one of Azriel’s books would serve as a perfect hiding place for one of his notes.

Of course he would.

Nesta breathed a somewhat bemused sigh, running a hand over her hair. She shook her head, feeling the bond singing in her chest as she pushed to her feet. It hummed like a just-plucked harp string, vibrating as she swept from that library and stalked instead for the sitting room. And as she pushed open the door, praying Azriel had left his book behind, Nesta could have sworn she felt the faintest glimmer of laughter down that bond, like a broad hand dragged, comforting, down her spine.

***

The Continent: Geopolitics and Relations with Northern Prythian still lay on the cushion of the chair Azriel had occupied that night, like the Shadowsinger still planned to return for it. A white ribbon peeked above the pages, marking his place, and as Nesta lifted the book in hand, she felt certain that ribbon was one of the Valkyrie ribbons— one of the many they’d tried and failed to cut in those early days, protesting the impossibility, only to have Cassian or Azriel step up and slice the thing in half with ease.

Bastards.

Nesta flicked the end of that ribbon, watching it sway as she held the book balanced in her palm. The thing was heavy, and so dense she didn’t know how the Spymaster had managed to spend hours, without pause, reading it the other night.

A real book, Cassian had called it.

Not for the first time, Nesta snorted. She sank into the chair by the empty hearth, turning the pages of that great tome one by one, and for a long time there was nothing. Chapters and chapters of absolutely nothing. But when Nesta reached the very last chapter…

There, pressed between the pages, tucked right against the spine.

In the low light, her name winked against the stark white of the folded note. It had been penned in large letters on the front, and beneath it - in Cassian’s hand - was written: Azriel— if you’ve somehow found this note before Nesta, fuck off and put it back where you found it.

She could almost hear Cassian’s tone, could practically see the spark that would have danced in his eyes. The bond tugged as her heart lurched, and unable to resist the smile that crept across her own face, Nesta put the book down on a side table and unfolded his next letter.

Nes— I knew you’d find this one.

I figured I’d take this opportunity to draw your attention to something other than smut, just in case you’re getting bored of all those filthy novels of yours. Lesser men might be concerned, sweetheart, but don’t worry. I know exactly how much you like all the things I can do with my hands, and I don’t think your books could do that quite as well as me, could they? How about I give you a reminder once I get home?

In the meantime, maybe you should try branching out and reading something else for once. I promise there’s no sex in this one.

Nesta snorted.

And Az, the note continued at the bottom, if you’ve read this far then I’m going to punch you in the ribs when I get home.

***

On it went, days spent trawling through the library and the House sitting rooms, bookshelf after bookshelf plundered in search of Cassian’s notes. By day four, three more had joined the pile Nesta kept tucked in the pockets of her dress. The first was brief and quick, a short love you, Nes, that had made her heart swell. The second was found in one of his history books - see Nes? Told you I’d get you reading real books one day! was the opener - and had almost brought her to tears when she read what turned out to be an account of their history hidden away inside. Here’s a story for you, princess, about a fearsome general and the wondrous woman who brings him to his knees, he’d written.

I think I knew you were mine from that very first day. And I loved every piece of you, even then.

And the third— well, the third Nesta had found slotted between the pages of one of her steamier romances, hiding in a chapter so racy it had made even her cheeks burn when she’d first read it. His note was brief— just a single line.

How about we try this when I get home?

It had all but set her alight, and had carried her through a full day and night since, but now…

The cold was starting to creep in, a chill lingering through the House as the sun went down. Five days he’d been gone— five, and with nobody to turn to now, Nesta found herself feeling exactly as she had when he’d first gone away. The House seemed cold without him, like even it had arrived at the begrudging conclusion that part of its integral makeup was missing without him there. Goosebumps skittered over Nesta’s arms as darkness fell, and she couldn’t help the scowl that fitted itself across her brow. Usually, if she happened to be cold, Cassian would be there, lingering at her side, ready to pull her into his arms at a moment’s notice to lend her some of his heat.

Cassian had never once let her go cold.

Even the notes couldn’t warm her now, she thought, dragging her fingers across that brief love you, Nes. Five days of missing her mate were starting to leave their mark, like a knife across her ribs, and every time she so much as thought of the distance between them and the two days still left to get through, it made her curse her decision to stay behind— to let him go without her.

As if sensing the cold was beginning to bother her, the House immediately started a fire in the grand hearth that occupied much of the wall opposite the windows. But Nesta shook her head. It wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough.

It wasn’t heat she sought, but comfort too.

And there was only one place she could get that now.

Before the cold could sink any further into her bones, Nesta marched to their bedroom— down the stairs and through the hallway, spurred on by her purpose until she was standing before the doors to the wardrobe standing in the left corner of their bedroom.

His wardrobe.

The faelights in their sconces glowed a little brighter as she opened the wardrobe doors. Within, Nesta found the usual piles of polished flying leathers sitting neatly on the various shelves, and a number of simple tunics and shirts in dark colours hanging from the rail. Cassian’s scent was almost overpowering, so potent that if she closed her eyes she might almost have been able to convince herself he was standing before her.

But her heart kicked in protest, like the mirage of him wasn’t enough.

Nesta trailed her fingers over those shirts, letting that cinnamon-and-leather scent wash over her, thinking of all the times she had unbuttoned those shirts, button by button, to reveal inch after inch of perfect golden-brown skin. She wished she could run her hands over him now, feel his heat sinking into her, chasing away the cold. She wished she could see that cocky smile, and hear his booming laugh, and—

Gods.

For her own damned sanity, she pushed the thought away.

Instead Nesta picked through that wardrobe in search of something else, until her hands found something softer, something older. Hanging towards the back, an old jumper that was oversized and soft brushed her skin, the colour a faded burgundy that might once have been bright. It was something Cassian wore only on the days where neither of them planned on leaving the House; those rare lazy days where they wouldn’t rise from bed until the sun was high in the sky, and even then, they wouldn’t make it far. It was the jumper he wore as Nesta lounged against his chest, turning the pages of her book as his fingers played with her hair.

Comfort.

That was what she wanted - needed - more than anything else. To be wrapped up in something soft, to drown in the scent of him that would have to carry her through two more days. If he couldn’t keep her warm himself, well, then this would have to do in his stead.

Nesta tugged the jumper from the hanger, relishing its weight and thickness in her fingers, and when she pulled it free of the wardrobe, she really didn’t know why she was surprised when, there, secured with a small pin, was another of his notes.

Are you missing me that much, princess?

Gods, he knew her like the back of his own damned hand.

She supposed Rhys hadn’t appointed him general for nothing, but Cassian had predicted her every movement, her every want and need. He had known, her mate had known, that Nesta would come here in search of something to bring her comfort. The bond between them seemed to shiver, and lightly she tugged on it— a quiet I love you in the only language they had left to them now.

Almost immediately, he tugged back.

Nesta removed the pin from the jumper and pulled it over her head. The sleeves were so big she had to roll them up thrice before her hands were free, but when she was entirely wrapped up in the scent of him, she looked back down at the note in her hand.

By the way, it said at the bottom, I love it when you wear my clothes. You have no idea how much I wish I could be the one keeping you warm but since I can’t… Promise me you’ll wear this again for me when I get home?

Nesta sighed softly, bittersweet. She missed him— more than anything, she missed him. She didn’t have the energy anymore to pretend she wasn’t counting down the hours until he was returned to her, and with nothing else left, Nesta made her way back to the library, taking his scent deep into her lungs and burying her fingers in the soft fabric of his jumper.

She tugged lightly on the bond as she went, just one more time.

And as she reached the doors of the library overlooking the city, it pulled back— a long, slow drag. Nesta didn’t need notes or Feyre’s gifts to know exactly what it meant, that protracted brush along the bridge between their souls. In no uncertain terms her mate was trying to say,

I miss you.

***

The duke threw up his hands in defeat, one hand fisting over his heart as though he had been driven half to madness. Clio felt her own heart thud, and as he took a step closer, she didn’t balk.

“Don’t you see how wild you drive me?” he demanded, all pretence of propriety vanished.

He was undone, a nobleman reduced almost to nothing, unravelling before her, and—

A low laughed echoed through the library.

Every sense Nesta possessed seemed to fail as she was startled out of her latest book, the world itself falling silent as that laugh swept across the back of her neck like the softest, most decadent of touches. Deep inside her chest, a match burst into flame.

“All the things I taught you, and yet still you’re oblivious to everything around you when you have your head stuck in a book.”

The honeyed voice sounded at her ear, right behind her, and though the words weren’t quiet, the tone was delectably soft, like velvet. It was a voice that seemed to sing to the deepest part of her, that resonated right through to her bones— and one she had sorely, sorely missed these past five days.

Her mate’s voice.

Nesta turned her head, wondering if she had finally gone mad or just started to hallucinate. But no— there he was, hands braced on the back of the sofa either side of her shoulders, powerful fingers curling in the cushions as he leaned into her space, lips parting in a lupine grin as his wind-tangled hair draped itself across his forehead.

“Cassian—“ Nesta started, blinking in surprise as her fingers grew slack, her book falling unnoticed into her lap. “You’re early! Nobody told me you were coming home today—“

His grin grew wider, sharper. For a moment Nesta was too stunned to move, blinking furiously as she stared into those glimmering hazel eyes. But when she recovered her senses enough to rise to her feet, Cassian’s palms came down firmly on her shoulders, pinning her in place.

“Surprise,” he whispered, lips against the shell of her ear.

Standing behind the sofa and leaning over the back of it to bury his face in her neck, Cassian didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. His hands drifted from her shoulders, tucking an errant piece of hair behind her ear before dragging it down the edge of her jaw to skim her collarbone, brushing the edge of her borrowed jumper, languid and lazy and entirely at ease. Her heart pounded as his hand brushed her ribs, and as her head fell back to rest against his chest, she felt the edge within her that had been made raw the past few days begin to heal, smoothing over with every pass of his hands across her skin.

“I missed you,” he murmured.

He smelled like snow and wind, the cold still clinging to his leathers. Nesta shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold she could feel radiating from him and seeping into her, even through the thick material of the jumper she’d stolen only a few hours ago.

She turned her head, his cheek brushing hers, and behind him, his wings twitched.

Cassian’s arms enveloped her, palms skating down the side of her arms until they reached her wrists, where the material of his jumper gathered and folded. Softly Cassian pressed a tender kiss to the skin of her neck, inhaling deeply as if, for the first time in days, he could breathe easily. He practically shuddered as he took in the scent of her— the scent of home, Nesta realised, because even though she hadn’t been the one away the past five days, it was only with Cassian returned to her that home felt like… well, home again. Like all was right in the world, balance restored.

Words escaped her, and she could barely think straight, but as his nose nudged her cheek Nesta let out a soft huff, one of endearment, and all she could say, with her lips brushing his ear was,

“Welcome home.”

He hummed, the sound low and suggestive, and gods— it made Nesta dizzy. His hands stretched until they covered her own, his palm coming to rest atop her knuckles. His fingers delved between hers, his grip tight, and suddenly she longed to feel his chest against her back rather than the cushions of the sofa.

But for the moment he seemed content to hold her like this, to take it in, like he’d been away for a decade.

The siphons atop their entwined hands glowed, and slowly - so slowly - Nesta pulled one hand free. Lifting it to his face she traced his cheekbone, trailing her touch across the bow of his lips as his eyes drifted closed. He groaned, his head tipping forward to fall at her shoulder once more, his lips kissing the curve of her neck— harder now, more insistent, like that lazy, cocksure posturing was a game he’d grown tied of playing.

Everything Nesta was narrowed on that— the lips at her neck, the bare skin he sought and found with lips and teeth.

Oh, she’d missed him.

She had always looked at her sister and Rhysand and wondered dryly how either of them could stand to be so interdependent. She’d always thought it ridiculous, how neither of them could function when the other was away. She could have laughed at the irony now, and might have, had she not been so distracted by the way Cassian’s teeth suddenly scraped over the skin at her collarbone, sending a jolt right down her spine, like lightning. It drew a gasp from her, her lungs starting to ache.

“Did you miss me, Nes?” Cassian whispered, and Nesta felt her toes curl, felt the air begin to thin.

“Not even a little bit,” she lied, and she felt him smile against her, lips curving against her neck.

“Liar.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. She was done with this— this game of cat and mouse, pretending they weren’t both mere seconds from unravelling entirely. Without second thought she cast aside the book that had fallen to her lap and broke free of Cassian’s hold, rising to her knees on the sofa cushions before pivoting, turning to face him fully.

For a moment amusement glittered in his hazel eyes, but Nesta watched as his gaze turned dark, the playful spark swallowed entirely by pure, ravenous want. His hands landed on her waist as hunger swept across that beautiful face, and Nesta wondered if a similar expression crossed her own face, if he could tell just by looking how desperate she was for him.

She didn’t bother to find out, and for once he didn’t tease her.

Nesta lurched forwards, grabbing her mate by the collar of his wind-chilled leathers and hauling him to her, the back of the sofa still sitting between them. Cassian groaned into her, his lips meeting hers at last, hands bunching in the fabric of his jumper as he gripped her waist hard enough to bruise.

Her lips parted, a breathless gasp leaving her as Cassian took everything she offered and gave it back to her tenfold, his hands drifting up her spine and palming the back of her neck before dragging along her jaw. His fingers slid into her hair, another groan leaving him as his hands grew tangled there, searching for pins to pull free.

His kiss was desperate, starving, and Nesta was no better, no more composed. She clawed at his back, rising higher on her knees as if it might bring him even closer. She was burning, every inch of her consumed by heat, and her heart was hammering so loudly it was a wonder it didn’t burst right out of her chest.

Some kind of whimper left her, a sound of absolute - mortifying - desperation, and Cassian’s lips curved against her own, his grin devolving into a rough laugh as he kissed her with abandon, lips dragging to the edge of her mouth, to her jaw, to any piece of her he could reach.

“Nes,” he murmured, lips pressed firmly against her skin.

Nesta’s eyes blinked open, dazed, as she pulled back just enough to find some air. A breath later, Cassian’s forehead dropped against hers, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as her own. He swallowed, pressing a final kiss to the tip of her nose before pulling back to study her face.

“I love you,” he said softly, hands dropping from her hair at last as he brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Have I told you that yet? Since I got home?”

Nesta laughed. “No, but you’ve been home for all of five minutes.”

He shrugged. “Hardly an excuse, since it’s all I’ve been thinking for the last five days.”

She rolled her eyes, but before she could answer - before she could tell him she loved him too - his eyes flicked down, catching on the Illyrian romance Nesta had left on the table. She’d finished it within a day, but hadn’t had the heart to shelve it once she was done, leaving it out so that she might run a finger down the spine every now and then— just to be reminded of how he’d thought about her enough to leave those little notes scattered throughout the House.

“You got my note, then?” he asked, eyes glinting.

Nesta nodded. “All seven.”

But Cassian’s smile turned wicked. “Only seven?”

He tsked as he pushed away entirely from the back of the sofa, rounding it with that easy, cocksure gait of his until he stood before her, one eyebrow raised. Nesta tilted her head.

“How many did you leave?”

His grin widened, throwing her a wink before he sank onto the cushions beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and bringing her to his side. She sank against him, melting into him. Irreverently he looked down at her, eyes gleaming with mischief.

He shook his head in answer, and using the arm he had wrapped around her shoulders, Cassian urged her down onto the cushions, until her back was flush against them. He winked again, leaning closer until his lips brushed hers so lightly it was almost a kind of madness. His hands were light as they trailed down her sides, a teasing touch that had her igniting all over again.

He didn’t answer her question, and Nesta huffed sharply even as her hands wandered into his hair, trailing through the strands he hadn’t tied up in his usual bun. Her thumb brushed the earring he wore in his left ear, his eyes fluttering closed as her dragged the tip of his nose along her jaw.

“Where,” Nesta demanded again. After all, she had looked everywhere. She was certain of it.

Cassian let out a laugh above her, one she felt rumble through her own chest. His gaze lowered to her mouth, and she had to fight to remember why she even cared about the notes, why she cared about anything other than him kissing her until she couldn’t breathe.

He shook his head again.

“Something for you to find the next time I’m away,” he murmured, and this time… Nesta let it lie.

She let out a hmph, but let her hands delve back into his hair, pulling him against her. His weight settled atop her, his forearms braced either side of her. His siphons pulsed, and she didn’t care that they were in the middle of the House library - that anyone could walk in and find them like this - she pulled his face down to hers, and when he kissed her this time…

Nesta let herself be lost in it entirely, all those little notes for the moment forgotten— the small ways he’d told her he loved her replaced now by his touch and the words he whispered in her ear.

And when, after some indeterminate and inexplicable length of time, he pulled his lips away from hers to let her breathe - when his mouth fell to her collarbone and began to drift lower - all Nesta could say was,

“I love you too.”

#nessian #nessian fic #sjmromanceweek2024

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 months

Note

People said we don't need filter words, but sometimes when the point of view is from another character, they are assuming and guessing things too and thus we need filter words. What do you think?

Filter Words Are Only Filter Words If Unnecessary

I think you're confusing what is meant by "filter words," so let me try to explain...

"Filter words" are words that are used to unnecessarily explain an action or thought.

Some common filter words are felt, watch, saw, knew, and heard.

The thing is though, these are just words. "Felt" is a word. It's not automatically a "filter word" just because it's on this list. It's only a "filter word" if it's used to unnecessarily explain an action or thought.

If you're using words like felt, watch, saw, knew, and heard necessarily... such as "I felt around on the floor to see if I could find the dropped earring," or "I saw something move in the darkness," those aren't unnecessarily explaining an action or thought. Furthermore, if you are illustrating your character's assumption or guess about what another character is thinking or doing, such as "I knew Clara would be embarrassed if I didn't distract the crowd," or "I felt the pain evident in Doug's eyes," that's also not an unnecessary explanation of an action or thought. So, in these cases, these words aren't "filter words." They're just words.

You can have a look at my Guide to Understanding Filter Words for more help. :)

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thenextdawn-backup · 1 year

Text

If This Isn’t Love

Word count: 4.5K

Summary: request here

Warnings: angst, blood, hospital stay, coma, school shooting

Pairing: Vada Cavell X Fem!Reader

———

You and Vada have been together since the school year started, and you had known each other for overall three years. And it was safe to say that she was your comfort person. Best friend and girlfriend all in one, she was YOUR person, your soulmate, everything you could ever wish for. You’d do everything together, go to the movies, spend nights out camping, at each other’s houses, all of it. You two were never seen apart from each other. You were in the same classes even, every day sitting next to each other, doing school projects together. You were the loudest in class, and it was easy to see the two of you even in detention. You never went to detention, anyways.

Today in class science teacher was illustrating a new project, and you were already smiling at Vada knowing you’d do it together, as the teacher gave the rules. “Everyone is free to choose their partner. Except the two of you” she pointed at you and Vada. “Vada’s with Mia, (Y/N)’s with Quinton” you sighed and looked over at Vada who was surprisingly smiling at Mia. They didn’t even know each other, but recently it was pretty clear that Mia had a crush on your girlfriend. Did you care? No, because you knew that she was loyal to you, and in some ways, you have never been more wrong in your entire life. For the first period of time ever since working on the project, everything was fine, Vada always coming to your place, answering your texts and acting all lovey dovey with you, both at school and at home.

But then things started going downhill… Vada was seen in school more with Mia than with you, and you had to admit you were indeed jealous. Maybe it wasn’t intentional, but Mia was stealing your girlfriend from you and Vada herself wasn’t realizing it. You had tried hanging out with them, but for most of the time Vada would ignore you, and tend to her new friend instead of even talking to you. And it started hurting a lot when even after the project had been turned it, they kept spending time together. Hell, she even stopped coming to your place, walking to school with Mia instead of you. You tried different ways of getting her to spend time with you but none of it was working. Today though, the film you and Vada had been waiting for over a year came out and you immediately bought tickets, knowing that she’ll definitely come with you.

You drove to school that morning like every day and when you arrived you immediately searched for Vada, who had obviously arrived with Mia. You ran over to them “babe!” You said and watched her turn around to face you, flashing you a smile. “Scream 6 came out today! We’re going together, right?” You asked hopeful, just wanting to spend time with your girlfriend. You two hadn’t spent time together in nearly a month. She looked back at Mia and the smile fell from her face “uh I’m going with Mia actually…” she said and looked at you, the smile falling from your face as well as you looked down. She truly was replacing you, was she? “But… you promised me we’d go together…” you said looking at her. She looked at you, probably feeling sorry, you didn’t know. “I know, but Mia’s already bought the tickets…” she said. Of course she had. The rich Mia always had money for whatever she wanted and she even had lots of friends! Couldn’t she go with someone else? You only had Vada… “but I also bought tickets already…” you said in a lower voice of tone, but she was already walking away, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry’ from afar.

You wanted to see how far she would go ignoring you. Was she even realizing how much she was hurting you? Surely she wasn’t, being too distracted to even remember your birthday. That’s right, she forgot about your birthday. She would always write you a long ass happy birthday text and take you flowers to school, but this time, she didn’t even look your way or give you a kiss. You were turning 18 and she didn’t remember. She used to give you so many attentions… yet she didn’t acknowledge you the whole morning, not the whole evening… you just texted her before dinner time.

You: hey babe, it’s my birthday today, Do you want to come at my place for dinner? My parents bought cake. I miss you.

Seen at 6.56 pm

You had now come to the conclusion that she just didn’t care anymore. Your parents even asked you why she wasn’t there for your birthday, and you simply told them she was sick. You didn’t want them feel pity towards you because your girlfriend was ignoring you. You needed to put an end to this situation. The next morning in school you stormed through the parking lot looking for Vada, when you found her of course she was with Mia but you took her from her arm and yanked her away. “(Y/N) what the hell? Let me go!” She said and you let her go since you had arrived somewhere quieter. “why are you ignoring me?” You asked her with tears in your eyes, she seemed confused. “What are you talking about?” She asked and you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You seriously haven’t realized? It’s been almost two months, Vada. Two months of you ignoring me ever since you got to know Mia, you never come to my house anymore, you never text me, you never talk to me in class” you said, a few tears leaving your eyes.

“(Y/N), I don’t-“ you quickly interrupted her. “Shut up! Now you’re gonna listen to me. “Last year you promised me we’d go watch scream 6 together. Yet you go with the first chick you meet because “oh she already bought the ticket” but I had already bought them as well, yet you chose to go with her instead of going with your girlfriend. Yesterday it was my birthday, Vada. You didn’t text me a happy birthday, you didn’t kiss me, you didn’t even look at me! And when I texted you yesterday to come have dinner at my place, you left me on seen! All because you were probably with Mia and I’m sure I’m right!” You said by now crying. However she seemed insensitive to how you felt. “Yeah, I might have forgotten about your birthday, and I didn’t reply to you because I felt guilty! I didn’t know what to do…” she looked down, then reflecting on your words. “Are you Jealous?” She asked you, almost using a provocative tone of voice.

“Yes, I’m jealous Vada. And I have every right to be! You fucking replaced me with her” you said, and she shook her head in disbelief. “I can have all the friends I want and you won’t neglect me that” she said, not believing that you would do such thing to her. “I never fucking said that you can’t have friends! Jesus Vada do you hear yourself? You can’t even realize… you need to check your priorities because the last time I remembered you told me that you would never ever ignore me to be with your friends every day of every week of every month yet here you were. I never wanted much, just for you to spend a couple days with me and to remember my fucking birthday, yet you couldn’t even do that. I guess she’s more important” you teased, she didn’t care much anyway. “I will do whatever I want with my friends and my relationship” she really dared to say that. “A relationship means respect and control, and the fact that you can’t do any says a lot. Go be with Mia” you said wiping your eyes as you walked away and to class.

Useless to say that you didn’t talk to her from then on, and she didn’t change her way of acting around you. She kept being with Mia, and she didn’t even try to apologize to you. That day you were in the corridor as you left class for your usual 15-minutes-long stroll in the corridors during history class. You hated history, yet in this occasion you wished you had loved it more. You were walking exactly in the corridor when you found yourself standing in front of a guy with a rifle, the gun pointed at you. “Dude, put the gun down” you whispered, voice shaking as you raised your hands and tried stepping backwards. “Or what?” He said, a sadistic smile on his face. “If people hear or see you they’ll call the police and arrest you” he smirked and loaded the gun. You tried running away then, but it was useless as he shot you not one, not two, but three times, hitting your leg, your stomach and your left shoulder as you fell face down to the floor.

You didn’t really acknowledge what was happening from then on, but you heard and saw people running away, other being shot as you crawled to sit up against the lockers, screaming out in pain when you did as you cried and tried to catch your breath, but with each breath, your wounds hurt and bled out more. You could only put pressure on two of them and you went for the one on your stomach and the other on your shoulder, but your strength was slipping away from you, color draining from your face as those 6 minutes felt like eternity. A loud ringing noise echoed through your ears and your vision started to get blurry. You could hear police sirens from afar even if you weren’t sure, but just as you were about to fall asleep, You screamed in pain once again when you felt someone put pressure on your stomach and shoulder wounds. your eyes shot back open revealing Vada hovering over you, pressing hard on your wounds.

“I know it hurts, I’m sorry” she said and you you looked at her with eyes wide open, grunting in pain as you couldn’t even find it in yourself to speak. You looked at her, trying to breath but it was getting too much, the pain for you too much to bare. You were now lying down on the floor but you managed to raise your head up, and saw you were in a pool of your own blood. She applied even more pressure as you screamed even louder in pain, grasping her arm and squeezing it tightly from the pain. “I’m so sorry babe… you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. I promise you” she said, to which you tried nodding. She’d caress your cheeks to comfort you, but right now she couldn’t because she was trying to stop the bleeding of both wounds on your upper body, the one on your shoulder being extremely close to your heart, you didn’t know how you were still alive.

Vada was crying too, and you were just noticing it. She was crying a lot, maybe both from shock and finding you like this. But she wasn’t bloody, she wasn’t hurt. You were just glad she was safe and this relief was enough to wash away each ounce of adrenaline you had left in your body. You fell asleep. “No! No no no don’t do this to me (Y/N)! Don’t you fucking dare!” She said and panicked, rushing her bloody hands through her hair. “HELP! PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP!” Vada yelled as she cried desperately, hands now shaking you to wake you up but it was useless, you seemed to be gone. Paramedics came over to the two of you and Vada didn’t want to move from you, but Mia pulled her back, hugging her trying to comfort her friend as Vada cried, screaming desperately as she crumbled to her knees. She couldn’t loose you, she had yet to make it up to you and she didn’t want to see you die with the regret of having made you feel like shit because of a new friend she made.

You were immediately rushed urgently to the hospital where you had a surgery to take the bullets out of your leg, Stomach and shoulder. Your leg was fine except for the scar it would have, you had some internal damage in your stomach which couldn’t yet be fixed, the bullet had gone too deep down because of the pressure that was applied to it and it caused a huge internal bleeding which was hard to stop. And the bullet in your shoulder had damaged the Aorta, luckily not in a fatal spot, so you were fine, considering. However your organs were damaged badly and doctors had to put you in a coma. In the meantime Vada had gone home, washed and changed clothes and rushed to the hospital. She asked where your room was and she paced in front of it while waiting for you to get back to surgery. She was still crying, being scared, anxious, all of the bad emotions she could feel. She waited hours in front of your room, and when they brought you back she sighed of relief.

“How is she?” She asked the doctor. “She’s fine now, but still not out of danger. The bullet in her shoulder damaged the aorta, the one in her stomach went too deep down and cut through other organs, there was a big internal bleeding…” he said, Vada interrupted him “I put pressure on her stomach- is it my fault? Did I do this to her?” She asked nervously, she was scared to have done this to you, she couldn’t bare it if she ended up hurting you this bad. “No, no. The bullet going deeper down was inevitable, putting pressure was the best thing you could do. If you didn’t she would have bled out more. You did the right thing kid” the doctor tried reassuring her, and it worked a little bit. “We had to put her in a coma. We can do that much to fix the damage on her organs but the rest is up to her. We don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

Vada was then let in the room. When she was in and she saw you, she let out a shaky breath as tears made their way up to her eyes again. She began crying uncontrollably as she sat on the chair next to your bed, holding your hand as she laid her head on the mattress, just crying and sniffling. “I-I’m sorry (Y/N). I’m so sorry I love you so much. I want to make it up to you please come back to me, please please please-“ she sobbed out and stayed in your room for a while. Your parents were out of town for work, and she was all you had. For weeks, she was all you had. She would come see you every day, she would comb your hair, talk to you, tell you how her days had been and even read you your favorite book, but there was always a hint of sadness in her voice, and her eyes were always swollen and full of tears.

Two months had passed by now, and you had started loosing weight. You had tubes in your mouth to breath and you were being fed by another tube going through your nose down to your stomach your body was slowly recovering, yet you never gave any sign of consciousness or whatsoever. Your parents after coming back home were in your hospital room daily, they brought Vada her meals, and god was she destroyed. She had ran out of things to tell you, however you could feel her there. She always held your hand and looked at you, sometimes laying in bed with you. “Hey darling. How are you?” Your mother asked Vada, coming into the room. Vada was laying her head on your bed, but sat back up when your mom talked to her. “Hi mrs (L/N)… I’m fine- considering…” she said, eyes still bloodshot, like the past two months. She had never stopped crying ever since.

“Vada…” your mother sat down next to her. “It’s okay to be sad. But now she’s almost completely healed up and we just need to wait for her to wake up. Her breathing has stabilized so she’s fine… you should go home and be with your family” she suggested, rubbing the younger girl’s back. “I don’t want to… I need to be here when she wakes up, I need to make it up to her…” obviously she had told your mother about everything that had happened before the shooting, figuring out that you probably didn’t tell her. Tears made their way to Vada’s eyes again as your mother pulled her in for a hug, where she broke down and only cried more. She didn’t go home though, she couldn’t even bring herself to stand up and leave your room. No, she needed to be with you when you woke up.

Two more weeks passed and your vitals were fully back to normal. It was now matter of days before you woke up and Vada was still coming to the hospital every day. It was 3 am and Vada was “sleeping” by your side. She was wide awake, too anxious that you’d wake up and she’d be asleep, so she played with your hair and held your hand. “When you wake up you absolutely need to take a shower. You really stink dude” she said with a sad giggle, but then she felt you squeeze her hand. That made her stop playing with your hair, and she saw you slightly open your eyes. “Holy shit!” She sat up and jumped off the bed, opening the door to your room. “Doctors! She woke up, she did it!” Vada shouted happily, she was so glad to see you alive and well. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her, her having been your safe place for these two months. However you couldn’t jet speak due to the tubes in your mouth, which the doctors came to remove and soon, you were alone with her.

You smiled at her and slightly raised your hand to wave at her. “Hey” you whispered, throat sore from not having talked in so long. The brunette burst out crying and immediately came towards you, hugging you tightly. Your wounds were all healed up, so it was safe. It took you a while to raise your arm and hug her back. And you let her stay there and hug you and cry until she wanted, which was about 10 minutes. She gripped your shirt, which was truly a hospital gown, pulling you in closer as she cried. When she calmed down she slightly pulled back to look at you. “H-how-“ you coughed slightly, your throat being really sore. Vada took the cup of water with the straw and held it for you to drink “how long have I been out?” You asked, your voice almost in a whisper. Vada smiled, god it was so good seeing you awake. “Almost three months”

You just nodded. It was a lot to take in, to you it just felt like a long deep sleep that went by quickly, though thinking on it, you just had to think about all the times you heard Vada’s voice even if it was distant. “And you’ve been here the whole time?” You asked, she nodded slightly and took a hold of your hand. “Yes.. I couldn’t leave you here alone. I’ve come here every day, I’ve slept here, studied here, talked to you, read to you. I couldn’t leave you alone… I had to make it up to you” you smiled weakly at what she said, you had “slept” for the past three months, but your body was constantly fighting, so you never really rested. Though the last sentence made you look away. “How’s Mia?” The smile fell from Vada’s face as well. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for how I made you feel… I never realized I made you feel like shit until I almost lost you and I will never, Never do that again… please forgive me…” she begged, she was still holding your hand, and she brought it up to her face as she leaned her cheek in it.

You slightly caressed her cheek with your thumb, god had you missed this. “Hey… I forgave you the moment you told me you’ve been here every day. I never told you you couldn’t have any friends, but maybe, you just have to practice splitting your time so that we both have time with you” you said with a small smile, she nodded eagerly. “I’ll do that. I promise you” she said with tears in her eyes as she gulped back a sob. You nodded in response. “She’s a good friend. I’ll never ask you to leave her behind.” The doctors let you rest the whole day, and the next day with theirs and Vada’s help you stood back on your feet. Your legs were pretty weak, especially the one you were shot at, and with a lot of effort and a lot of help, you managed to take a few steps. Eventually, at least your arms were strong enough so you could hold yourself up on crutches, and with a lot of convincing, you went back to school.

You were scared shitless, to say the least. But Vada was there comforting you, and surprisingly enough, so was Mia. Ever since you woke up you decided to invite her to your hospital room and get to know her, she was indeed a sweet girl and she even apologized to you for always “stealing” Vada from you and you reassured her telling her it was okay. You walked inside the place with your heart racing, memories of that day clouding your mind and Vada saw you were panicking, “it’s okay, the place is safe. There’s guards checking us and our bags every day. No one can come hurt you ever again” she said and placed her hand on your shoulder as you slowly walked in school. The corridors were surprisingly empty, and when you walked in the exact corridor you had been shot at, you stopped in your tracks, staring at those lockers you had bled out on.

You still had the trauma, being in a coma you never had the time to process what had happened and now it was all hitting you like a truck. Your breath quickened, tears pooling in your eyes as Vada’s gentle hand took you back to reality. “You’re okay” she said whispering, hand on your cheek as you nodded and took a deep breath, using the crutches to follow the two girls in front of you, as they took you to the GYM. As soon as you walked in you people jumped out as a surprise, everyone: students, teachers, even the principal and your parents. All accompanied by a huge sign reading “welcome back”. “What’s all this?” You asked, turning to Vada and Mia. “You’re the only one that was shot and survived. The school has raised a campaign in your honor, everyone from the school has been paying for your cures” Vada started, and useless to say you were shocked. You never expected this much awareness to be raised for you.

“Was this your idea?” You asked Vada, but she smiled at you. “It was mine actually” Mia said, and you turned to look at her, and saw how she scratched her neck nervously. “My dads have a lot of money, and when I told them about your situation they wasted no time in starting this found-raising campaign. You needed it and if there’s one thing my parents always taught me is to help who’s in need. Plus, Vada needed you. I care about her and I couldn’t just see her and you in pain” she said and looked away. You slowly walked over and hugged her, she never expected you to but she hugged you back tightly, sighing of relief “thank you. You saved my life” you felt her smile and then you pulled back, Vada helping you to sit down as people came to you and talked to you, happy to see you alive and well, wishing you a happy recovery, teachers as well. Then when Vada was distracted you got up and walked over to a microphone that had been set up in the gym. “Is this thing on?” You said, scaring everyone. Clearly it was on “sorry” you apologized and everyone giggled.

“First of all I want to thank everyone for the surprise and for the money to the campaign, I really, really never expected this and I can never thank you enough. Then I would like to pay honor to our dead classmates..” you took a deep breath. This was still a fresh, delicate topic for you, but you felt that this had to be said. “I have been in a coma for two months and a half, and all that I could think of was “why me? Why did I have to be shot?” And then I also thought that I should have been grateful to be alive because I did it, and others didn’t..” tears made their way to your eyes, and Vada walked over, holding your hand to reassure you. “And now I’m here and I think, “out of all people, why did I have to survive?” But then I reply to this question, thinking that these boys and girls who died in here, they died somehow protecting us, and I feel guilty because no such thing should have ever happened to any of us. We are humans and we are just kids, none of this is fair. We have families, we have boyfriends and girlfriends…”

You squeezed Vada’s hand and briefly turned to look at her as you did “and there are also people who care about you that much to start a campaign for you, for this I would like to thank Mia Reed. Thank you for Saving my life” everyone applauded to her as you continue “and then I would like to thank Vada.. she’s been at my side ever since I was shot. She barely left the hospital, she took care of me, talked to me, read to me. Not once did she leave me alone and if this isn’t love I don’t know what is” you said and turned to look at her again. “I Love you so much Vada.” You said and pulled her in for a kiss, one you both have been craving for long now. Everyone in the gym applauded as both of you soon pulled back, foreheads touching each other’s.

“I love you too baby. So much.”

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell #wednesday #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

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crystallizedday · 9 months

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DISCLAIMER: THIS IS AN OUTDATED VERSION OF THE DOAI CD AU. I WILL GET TO WRITING UP THE NEW ONE EVENTUALLY ONCE I HAVE ILLUSTRATED SOME NEW DETAILS & SUCH.

So…

I made a new AU.

Simply calling this the DOAI CD AU cause that’s how a lot of my AUs are.

So here’s the rundown of the AU I have so far.

Story-wise, Winfrey gets captured by Dr. Lankmann & is used for his asylum. Clyde eventually finds where its partner is, but hesitates to simply charge in & find them with all the security precautions that have clearly been put in place for the lil guy. Ultimately, Clyde decides to do a lil sneaky & surrender itself, knowing it’ll be kept alive for testing purposes.

Once its inside, it finds the perfect time to break out of its confinements to go find Winfrey.

Without spoiling too much since I wanna actually WRITE OUT what happens, all I will tell you all is that Clyde finds Winfrey & escapes with the big guy. With Clyde keeping them on track & pushing them forward to ensure both of their escape, Winfrey doesn’t consume too many people after the incident, pretty much only killing any security that got in their way. Dr. Lankmann is also kept alive, which will quickly become a problem for the both of them once they escape.

After fleeing the asylum, both Veldigun later discover that their existence is becoming increasingly known across the country, thus forcing them to flee from place to place to avoid capture &/or potential death (because even if they COULDN’T die via bullets, neither of them would want the other to take that chance). They find themselves traveling all across the country in a seemingly endless chase from the authorities. Despite this potentially being their new life now, they are simply glad to have each other throughout it.

Additionally, because Winfrey was (mostly) unaffected after escaping the asylum, there was no need for their clothing to be stitched to them directly. Instead, Clyde decides to make Winfrey something a lot more comfortable to wear that can easily be taken off, just like its own orange onesie. This is why Winfrey’s outfit looks so different in the image from earlier.

AH!

As for how these fuckin goobers are written, it goes a lil something like this…

Clyde: Despite the circumstances, Clyde is often quite chirpy & is often the one seen with a smile on its face. It is constantly moving in place, rarely ever standing still. It also tends to find fascination in certain small things, often trinkets & other human junk. It came across the LEGENDARY Captain Quackers during one of its scavenges for said trinkets, & is by far the most prized piece of man-made items it has ever collected.

Despite how adorably silly this version of Clyde is, it is STILL scarily clever. It can quickly formulate a plan & execute it almost flawlessly, sometimes even using some of its various trinkets as a part of said plan (such as a distraction). While it usually id not all that afraid of direct confrontation, under dire circumstances, it will remain in the shadows & carefully think through its actions.

Winfrey: Even when the two are completely safe, Winfrey cannot help but feel concerned, perhaps even a bit paranoid. Everything they do for the both of them, Winfrey does it with care & caution. They used to be so fascinated with the creativity of humans, but after the Asylum incident, all they care about is keeping themselves & Clyde (mostly Clyde) safe. Although, this does not stop them from occasionally indulging themselves by singing a tune every now and again or even playing a little song if Clyde ever finds them an instrument (mainly the violin, of course).

While they are usually quite cautious with their actions, they WILL resort to rampaging their way through a problem if the situation is dire enough. They certainly have the strength to do so at any time, but they will most of the time second guess such a method if it could result in putting themselves or Clyde in unnecessary danger. However, if Clyde is already in danger, that second-guessing goes completely out the window. If it ever came down to the two of them, they would want Clyde to be safe over themselves (& vice versa, which often leads to a few points of conflict).

Before the asylum incident, Winfrey was a LOT more upbeat & playful while Clyde was just a little bit more serious & focused. While Clyde is content being far more energetic & easy going than it used to be, it feels guilty for Winfrey losing a lot of their bouncy personality from the good ol’ days & will repeatedly try to get Winfrey to let themselves enjoy life again. While Winfrey just wants to keep Clyde safe, all Clyde wants is to help Winfrey heal from the ten years of torment that scarred them. However, Clyde has no idea JUST how much that decade has affected Winfrey & how tough it will be for them to feel fully comfortable again…

The other Veldigun ALSO are characterized differently, but I have not fleshed them out all that much yet. Regardless, here is what I have so far.

Klaus: All he cares about is seeing others suffer, not because he feels wronged in any way, but because it genuinely feels euphoric to him. Rarely will he ever eat his victims & only does so when he starts showing signs of starvation. His cruel demeanor also extends to his relationship with his supposed partner Jack, who he often abuses if things do not go his way or if Jack even slightly gets on his nerves. Despite Jack being essential to Klaus, he does not care about his Jack-in-the-box partner in the slightest. If anything, Jack’s death would simply be an annoyance to him.

Jack: Everything is just so damn funny to them, but not in a sadistic way like their partner is. They genuinely cannot help but laugh whenever something even POTENTIALLY humorous occurs, much to Klaus’ displeasure. Despite how their partner treats them, Jack is happy to be used as a living murder weapon. They feel content with their only purpose being to help Klaus. They are well aware of how poorly they are being treated but feels that abandoning Klaus will leave Jack without a purpose, & is too fearful of that reality to take that chance. In other words, they just laugh off the idea.

Both Klaus & Jack have been traveling across the country even before what happened at the Lankmann asylum, but the Veldiguns’ revealed existence has only made it harder for Klaus & Jack to stick around too long. Klaus absolutely blames Clyde & Winfrey for this, & would not be shy of giving them a piece of his mind if they ever crossed paths.

Simon & the Flock: Both live at an abandoned farm somewhere in the country, feeding purely off of the wildlife that would be found there. This is due to Simon having consumed the people that once resided at this residence, gaining empathy for humans & swearing off of ever consuming another human mind ever again. The Flock follows this vow, not because Simon asked it to, but because it understands. Both Veldigun can vividly understand each other without ever uttering a single phrase or gesture. Simon can rarely ever be heard speaking because of this. The two do not bother with the other Veldigun or escaping the authorities. Whatever happens, they will remain pacifistic toward human life & show kindness to others, even to their own detriment.

As for Lankmann…

Well, you’ll just have to wait & see for yourself, won’t you? ;)

Well, that’s just about it for now! Hope y’all like what this AU provides so far!

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steviebears · 2 years

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Eddie when you accidentally get pregnant

a/n: I made this in response to the overturning of Roe vs Wade in the US right now. Abortion is a necessary medical procedure that deserves to be an option for everyone who can get pregnant. Abortion can be hard, as illustrated here, but it still is such an important option for people to have. If you are sensitive to abortion please be cautious of this. TW for morning sickness as well.

You roll out of his arms and off the bed, darting to the bathroom with a hand over your stomach. Eddie gets up, concerned, and stands at the doorframe.

You kneel down and throw up into the toilet, feeling suddenly unbelievably sick.

"Woah, babe-" He says rushing over to rub your back. Eddie gets up after you finish only to get you a glass of water and sits with you on the floor as your stomach starts to mellow out.

You had written it off as a sickness you caught somehow, but after you got sick for a third time, Eddie began to wonder.

You became tired, sort of weak. You hadn't even noticed that you'd missed your period until Eddie brought it up, he thought you might've gone too long without one.

He approaches with two pregnancy tests in hand, a tender look on his face.

"You've been moody, too." He ends his explanation with, lightheartedly laughing over the recent time you cried because you dropped your sandwich on the floor. You playfully glare at him but your expression turned worried. What if you really were pregnant? You didn't even want to think about what that would mean for you two.

You sat on the floor of the bathroom with your head on Eddie's chest, anxiously waiting for the timer to go off. You bite your nail and had a terrible feeling in your stomach.

When the timer does go off, you both turn over the tests in your hands to see two lines; positive. Your watery eyes have to do a double take, having a hard time believing it was true. You look up at Eddie with a heartbreaking look on your face. Eyebrows furrowed and lip quivering. Your tears finally spill over when you see him looking back down at you.

"Hey, hey." He says softly, cupping your face in his calloused hands.

"It's going to be okay. Nothing to cry about." He says with a reassuring tone, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs.

That night you lied awake, staring into the ceiling. You knew he was awake. His breathing was still somewhat fast and uneven.

"I don't want it." You blurt out. You had agreed to talk about it the next day, but you couldn't keep it to yourself anymore. Eddie turns to his side to look at you. You make a genuine frown, starting to think about what that meant. You both sit in silence for a moment.

"Do you want an abortion?" He finally asks. He would be lying if he said he didn't care. He did, and it was beginning to weigh on him a bit.

"Does that make me a bad person?" Your voice breaks as you hand ghosts over your lower stomach, immediately retracting your hand back to your side.

"Of course not." Eddie didn't understand the feelings you were having, but he was trying his absolute best to. He never wanted you to feel like a bad person- especially not for doing what is right for you with your own body. You turn to your side to face him back.

"Really?" Your voice breaks to a whisper. He reaches over to move some hair from your face and nods.

The car ride to the clinic was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He held your hand as long as he could until you had to part ways for the procedure. He kissed you goodbye and waited anxiously in the lobby for you, trying to distract his mind by reading the various girly magazines on the side table.

When he was allowed in to see you, his heart broke a little seeing you in that gown with a tired look on your face. You hadn't been sedated or anything, but the stress of the whole situation finally caught up to you. The minute your hand was in his, you couldn't keep the tears down anymore and they spilled free.

"Hey, hey. You're okay, we're okay. It's all okay." He reassures you with a squeeze of his hand. You sniffle and nod, feeling terrible about the actual relief you felt. He makes you laugh by telling you about the articles he'd read and before you knew it, he was helping you into his van.

The cramps were the worst part. It wasn't that they were all that bad, it honestly just felt a little worse than a period. It was just a constant reminder of what you'd just gone through.

Eddie's warm hand lied on your stomach, your head in his chest. You take a deep breath, trying not to overthink the situation. But you just couldn't help feeling terrible about it.

"I'm sorry." You say quietly, as if you weren't really expecting Eddie to hear it. His eyebrows furrow and he turns to you with a questioning look. He doesn't need to say anything to get you to explain further.

"I didn't even ask what you wanted, I'm sorry. It was your baby too." You start to cry for what must've been the thousandth time with week.

"It's your body, babe. You made the right decision, nothing I said could change what is best for you, best for us." You sob into his chest and clutch his shirt at the pain. He rubs your back and holds you tight.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things season four #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #tw: abortion

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shadowtriovibes · 11 months

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bewitched, bothered, and bewildered

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex, fluff and smut

Summary: "I would like to request Sebastian and MC wanting to have their first time and Seb being the bookworm he is doing some ~research in the restricted section on how to make MC feel good and when she discovers it finds it super sweet ❤"

Tonight he has a very specific quest as he wanders the underground stacks, keeping a mindful eye out for any nosy ghosts as he makes his way toward one of the sections he hasn’t ever had the mind to explore. A small piece of parchment is affixed to the end of the row, and in Scribner’s tight, precise scrawl he sees the words, "Sexually Explicit Materials." Sebastian smirks – precisely what he sought.

Throughout his years at Hogwarts, Sebastian has snuck into the Restricted Section of the library more times than he can recall.

It’s almost too easy to cause a distraction, conceal himself with Disillusionment and slip past Scribner to pick the lock and let himself into Hogwarts’ most valuable collection of rare books, obscure manuscripts, and other magical oddities deemed too advanced (or dangerous) for the average student.

As long as Peeves is otherwise occupied, he usually finds what he’s looking for without incident.

However, it’s been a while since Sebastian has found himself in need of a book from this particular section. Ever since you’d used Isadora’s magic to pull Anne’s curse from her frail body and store it in a goblin-made metal locket, he’d kept his word and avoided practicing any sort of Dark Arts.

He simply doesn’t need to anymore.

(...He still reads about it sometimes. But how else will he know what to avoid?)

A small piece of parchment is affixed to the end of the row, and in Scribner’s tight, precise scrawl he sees the words, “Sexually Explicit Materials.”

Sebastian smirks – precisely what he sought.

It’s an open secret amongst Hogwarts’ more senior students that somewhere hidden within the Restricted Section was an entire shelf of books all about, well… relations. Witches would whisper to each other about how they could probably find out everything they’d ever wanted to know about the mysterious opposite sex.

The wizards just hoped that could find some illustrations.

At least a few times per year, some ambitious students would attempt to get a teacher’s permission to access such books, but most failed. Sebastian, not willing to risk being turned down, figured it would be better to ask forgiveness if he was caught “borrowing” a few books rather than seek someone like Sharp’s permission.

He peered closely at the spines as he crept down the length of the aisle.

Smethwyk’s Guide to Marital Relations… Magickal Self-Knowledge… Sexual Behaviour in the Contemporary Wizard… Bewitching the Fairer Sexe…

That last one piques his interest.

He slides it off the shelf and gingerly opens the front cover, hoping that the book won’t start to sensually moan (or worse) and alert the librarian of his presence. Mercifully it remains silent, so he eagerly starts to flip through its pages.

Oh, there are illustrations and then some. The magical kind that move, at that.

Sebastian knows that if anyone were to catch him right now, he’d be terminally embarrassed. But he’s determined to read this book from cover to cover – not merely out of curiosity, but because he has a purpose now.

Since the two of you had decided to make the leap from friends to something more, you’ve already shared so many lovely milestones. To Sebastian, they were all meaningful: the first time you’d kissed, the first time you’d felt each other through your clothes, the first time you’d both had to spring apart and catch your breaths because things had gotten very intense very quickly. (That last memory is one of his favorites to relive.)

But earlier that week, you’d sprung on him that you were ready.

“Ready?” he’d asked dumbly.

“Ready,” you breathed, kissing down his jaw to his neck while you squirmed impatiently in his lap. “For you, for more.”

“You want more?” Sebastian sighed contently, tipping his head back so you can suck one of those claiming bruises you love to put on him. “We have all night, love, and I’m certainly in no rush.”

“I mean for sex,” you blurted out.

“Y-you said you’re ready for…?” he stammered. “W-well, I mean–”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything,” you mumbled, immediately backing off. “You must think me truly wicked for even suggesting it.”

In fact, Sebastian wasn’t thinking much of anything at that moment. But he forced himself to focus and reassure you that he wasn’t upset with you at all.

He’s quite interested, it’s just… he feels hopelessly ignorant.

He knows you lived in the Muggle world until you were fifteen, and that there’s no such compunction about talking about sexual relations at that age within non-magic spaces. Witches and wizards remain staunchly conservative on the matter, however, and generally the topic of “marital intimacy” is firmly taboo in public at Hogwarts.

Students are undoubtedly curious, but many will remain pretty naive until they leave school.

You, however, are not ignorant. He’s fairly confident you’ve never indulged in that sort of behavior with anyone else, but your knowledge of what witches and wizards do together, what the two of you might do together is assuredly more robust than his own.

He simply can’t have that.

Sebastian slips Bewitching the Fairer Sexe into his school bag and sneaks back out of the library. He doesn’t crack it open again until he’s back in the dormitory with the curtains pulled tightly around his bed.

At first he doesn’t bother casting Silencio, because that’s not what this is about. He’s stubbornly focused on learning from this text, not on becoming distracted by all the enchanted illustrations of the erogenous zones of a witch’s body, or where exactly one should touch between her thighs to bring her to her climax, or even how a wizard can use his mouth to pleasure her…

Merlin, who is he kidding? Better do a Silencio just in case.

—

Sebastian clings to that book for nearly a full week before he’s caught.

By you, no less, which is horrifically embarrassing.

He’d even kept it hidden from his dormmates with the exception of Ominis, who can always tell when he’s got a secret. He just assures Sebastian that he couldn’t care less about a smutty book as long as it doesn’t involve any phonic components.

But he’d left it underneath his pillow with a single corner sticking out, and that’s all it took for you to find it when you let yourself into the seventh-year wizards’ room to borrow one of your love’s scarves for your afternoon walk down to Hogsmeade.

When you don’t return quickly, Sebastian goes upstairs to track you down.

He’s horrified to discover you sitting cross-legged on his bed, lazily flipping through the book.

“That’s not mine,” he blurts out in a panic.

“It was on your bed,” you counter, barely looking up from its pages. “Under your pillow, even.”

“You’re snooping through my things?” he demands as he feels himself flush red.

“Obviously,” you scoff. “Like you wouldn’t do the same if you could get into my room.”

“That’s not the point,” he insists. “I – will you quit looking at that?!”

“Why?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “It’s really quite informative, this book of yours. Not a bad resource.”

He anxiously runs a hand through his hair and mutters, “Merlin’s beard.”

“You know what might have been easier, though?” you say, finally closing the book and leaning over to drop it on Sebastian’s side table.

When he doesn’t answer, you get up from the bed and cross the room to him before taking his hands and placing them firmly on your waist.

“You could have just asked me,” you say softly.

He immediately makes a face.

“What?” you protest.

“I just… I wanted to figure out what I’m doing before coming to you,” he admits. “Felt like I was supposed to.”

“Why’s that?” you ask softly, winding your arms around his shoulders.

“I’m a wizard,” Sebastian says as if it’s supposed to be obvious. “I’m not supposed to be so clueless.”

You gently remind him, “But you’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“You’ve never had a boyfriend,” he retorts.

“Sure, but I had Muggle friends,” you explain. “They talk about sex, they’re not as repressed as you wizards.”

“If you think I’m repressed, may I introduce you to Ominis?” Sebastian jokes, and you roll your eyes fondly.

“All I’m saying is, I may know a thing or two,” you murmur as you raise up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. “And we can always talk about what we want.”

As you kiss him, Sebastian stubbornly thinks, I know a thing or two as well now.

His hands drift from your waist down to your hips as he pulls you closer, earning a soft sigh from you that makes him smile against your lips.

“Tell me what you want then,” he asks as his hands continue sliding down to your ass.

“Right now?” you ask softly. “Here?”

“If you want,” he offers. “Everyone else is out for the day, we have all afternoon.”

“Yes,” you gasp, and Sebastian isn’t sure if you’re agreeing with him or reacting to him slipping his hands underneath your skirt to feel your bare skin.

He steals a few more increasingly urgent kisses before breaking away from you to put a quick locking spell on the door.

You return to Sebastian’s bed while he shrugs off his jacket, promptly abandoning it on the floor. His vest and shirt follow while you watch with an expectant look.

Before reaching for his belt, he skeptically looks you up and down. “Why aren’t you taking your clothes off?”

“I was hoping you would do it for me,” you say softly.

Merlin, you are absolutely going to be the death of him one of these days.

Thoughts of his belt abandoned, Sebastian joins you on the bed and cups your face in his hands so he can thoroughly kiss you before getting to work taking off your uniform. By now you’ve both seen a fair bit more of each other than you have of anyone else, but never like this – never fully bare.

Your vest and tie are simple enough as they’re just like his own, but once he starts unbuttoning your shirt, he reveals a whole new layer: a thin chemise that sits just below your shoulders tucked inside a simple white corset that cinches your waist. Its seams drew clear attention to your breasts, and Sebastian wishes he could simply charm the damn thing right off you.

However, he remembers from his reading that you might enjoy being rid of it by his hands instead, slowly building the sort of anticipation that his book had claimed witches crave in the bedroom.

He feels vindicated each time your breath hitches when he slips open another one of the corset’s delicate hooks. Once the garment goes slack and falls open to your sides, he enthusiastically slides his hands beneath your chemise and cups your breasts in his hands.

“Touch me,” you groan, arching your back.

“I am touching you,” he teases.

You whine frustratedly and place your hands over his through your shirt, encouraging him to properly take hold of you.

That won’t do, Sebastian thinks. He wants to reassure you that he is not naive to your pleasure, that he knows exactly where he needs to touch you to drive you mad.

He’s read that you’re sensitive here, especially when you’re wanting for touch. He drags his thumbs over your nipples, both at the same time, and you sigh his name.

If he hasn’t already been growing hard in his trousers, that certainly would have done it.

“Touch you here is what you meant, hmm?” he murmurs as he rubs slow circles over your tender peaks. “Let’s try to be more specific next time, love.”

You don’t even bother telling him to bugger off, which lets him know he’s gotten you worked up already.

You pout endearingly when Sebastian removes his hands from your chest. He assuages you with a quick kiss before coaxing you into arching your back for him again so he can toss the corset to the floor. Then he pulls your chemise up over your head and quickly chucks it away as well. Now he can actually see your chest, already flushed pink from just his hands.

You cry out when he licks one of your stiff nipples and takes it into his mouth. He moans into your skin and sucks at you, remembering having read to be gentle with you here. You reward his efforts by twisting your fingers into his curls to hold him against your breast and stroking your thumb along his hollowed cheek.

Amused, he recalls being a younger student and hearing some of the seventh-year insisting that witches tasted like a wide range of things. Often they insisted the taste was either floral or sweet like sugar candies, but one of them had even claimed he’d pressed his lips to his girlfriend’s chest and tasted elderflower wine.

You don’t taste like any of those things. On his tongue Sebastian notices only the clean taste of warm skin, like when he kisses your neck, and maybe a lingering note of the rosewater perfume you sometimes wear. It’s heady and human and maddeningly perfect.

“Just like that, Seb,” you whine.

Beneath him, your legs fall open wider and your skirt is rucked up to the middle of your thighs. Sebastian thinks it’s a crying shame you’re even still wearing the silly thing, so he pulls away from you with a filthy wet sound and reaches for the clasp at the side of your skirt.

“Lift up,” he murmurs and you tilt your hips so he can tug your skirt down. He easily hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your undergarments as well so that he can get you naked all at once.

You’re a sight straight from one of his daydreams like this – nude and flushed all over with your legs spread in his bed.

He grips his cock through his trousers to give himself some much-needed relief while you observe with a covetous stare.

“I want to see you,” you tell him. “And don’t you dare say ‘you can already see me’ or some nonsense, I want to see your cock.”

“As you wish, love,” he says cheekily.

After undoing his trousers, Sebastian shoves them and his own undergarments down to the middle of his thighs. He can’t resist the urge to stroke himself a few times before letting you take a look.

As far as “wand lengths” go, he never much worried about comparing himself to others; he thought he could safely say that he was at least average. Now though, the seconds feel like minutes underneath your gaze. You’re quite red in the face and your eyes are wider than usual, and he suddenly realizes that it’s the first time anyone else has ever looked at him like this.

He didn’t think it would feel that significant, but it does.

“Well?” Sebastian asks teasingly, desperate for you to say something.

Finally, you stutter, “W-well, you’re definitely bigger than my fingers.”

“Your fingers?” he says. “You mean when you…?”

“Yes,” you squeak. “And now I’m nervous it’s going to hurt.”

He frowns. “Oh.”

“B-but I want to!” you quickly insist. “I just think, um. Maybe we can start with something else?”

“Love,” Sebastian murmurs fondly, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “Of course we’re going to work our way there, I wasn’t ever going to just put it in right away.”

“No?” you sigh distractedly.

“Aren’t you witches supposed to love foreplay?” he teases. “I read all about it in my book.”

“What’s that?” you ask him.

He raises an eyebrow and you continue to stare at him expectantly.

“I thought you were supposed to ‘know a thing or two,’” he says. “Foreplay is everything we do before the actual, er. Penetrative part. Surely you weren’t expecting to just…?”

Everything Sebastian had read had told him that under no circumstances should he press inside you without ensuring you were prepared. He’d poured over the illustrations that instructed him how to use his fingers to stimulate you, how to help acclimate you to feeling full before he filled you with his cock. (He learned he could even use his tongue to do the job, which sounds bloody brilliant.)

“I – I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean, I know you’re going to go inside. And I know how I use my fingers on myself sometimes, but I just…”

You trail off sheepishly. “Maybe I didn’t know as much as I thought.”

Sebastian is quite pleased by this turn of events. “Bet you’re glad I found that book then, aren’t you?”

You scoff and spread your legs a little bit wider. “Let’s see it then, you know-it-all. Show me this ‘foreplay’ of yours.”

He quickly shoves his pants the rest of the way off and kneels between your legs, one hand gently resting on the lowest part of your stomach. He thinks you’re even lovelier between your thighs than the illustrations, with your taut, delicate skin flushed pink and glistening wet at your entrance.

“Just one to start,” he mumbles to himself, pressing the tip of his middle finger against your slit with his palm up just as he’d learned.

Your body opens up for Sebastian so beautifully that if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that this must surely be some kind of ancient magic in itself – perhaps a primordial form as old as wizardkind.

His mouth on you earlier has gotten you plenty wet, and inside you’re soft as silk and feverishly warm. He curses under his breath at the realization that soon enough, he’ll feel this on his cock. (He has no idea how he’ll ever be able to go back to his own hand and some salve after this.)

“Good?” he asks you distractedly.

“Yes,” you sigh.

He glances up to check your expression and finds that your eyes have slipped shut, and there’s a blissful smile on your lips.

Determined to keep you focused, Sebastian murmurs, “Tell me how you use your fingers on yourself.”

“I – I usually use two, maybe three,” you admit shyly. “But my hands are smaller than yours.”

“Do you like to think about anything while you touch yourself?” he asks in a low voice.

You whine like you’re overwhelmed, but your hips cant toward his hand and he can tell what you’re asking for. He pulls out until just the tip of his finger is inside you, and then he presses back in with his index finger tucked alongside it.

“Yes, Seb,” you whimper.

“Go on then, tell me what you think about,” he croons. “I’ll tell you what I think about if you do.”

He starts to fuck his hand into you like that, burying two long fingers in you all the way to the knuckle. Watching you take him inside you like this is a thousand times more captivating than any illustration in any smutty book that’s ever been published, he’s sure of it.

“I can’t,” you protest. “We aren’t supposed to — that’s dirty, talking about that.”

“Dirtier than this?” he asks wryly. “Love, you can tell me anything.”

You stay stubbornly silent until Sebastian presses his thumb to that swollen nub that peeks out just above your entrance, the one that looks like it’s aching to be touched. Just the lightest touch elicits a broken moan out of you.

“Tell me what you think about and I’ll give you a third finger,” he bargains.

“P-please,” you beg. “I just – I just think about you, you on top of me, what your body looks like, it’s always just you.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he taunts as he makes good on his word and starts to press his ring finger in alongside the other two.

This time there’s noticeably more resistance. You were right, you do have smaller hands than him and his three longer, masculine fingers are more of a stretch than you typically give yourself. Sebastian laves more attention onto your clit, pressing his thumb against you a bit harder to distract you. You’re still plenty wet, and he assumes that’s a promising sign.

Your brow is furrowed in concentration as you try to relax for his fingers, but you nevertheless remember to demand that he tell you his fantasies.

“You want to know what I think about?” he asks casually. “It’s been the same thing for a while, really.”

“W-what is it?” you ask, stuttering a little when he succeeds in pressing all three fingers deep inside you.

“It’s you, in my bed, moaning my name, begging for me to fuck you,” he tells you. “Every time I stroke myself off, that’s all I need.”

He punctuates each detail with a thrust of his hand. You’re slick all over by now, and Sebastian has to imagine that a lesser wizard would give up at this point and eagerly replace his fingers with his cock.

But he’s not done with you yet. He’d been quite surprised to learn from that wonderful book that many witches can reach multiple climaxes in a row, provided they’re being seen to by a courteous wizard. He wants to give you your first right now, before he becomes distracted by chasing his own.

“Are you going to come, love?” Sebastian asks. “Just from my fingers?”

“N-no, I want to wait until you’re inside me,” you protest weakly, but your hips are rocking up to meet him with every thrust of his hand.

“Let me make you come like this,” he bargains. “I’m not going to stop at one, darling, I’ll make sure you’re completely satisfied.”

Your thighs are properly trembling now – Merlin, you must be right on the edge. That’s when Sebastian gets the idea of leaning down and replacing his thumb on your clit with his tongue.

Immediately his world goes dark as you clamp your thighs around his head and wail.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant as he seals his lips against your skin. “Seb, please!”

He feels you get even tighter around his fingers when you come. He can barely even move them for several long seconds, so he focuses instead on drawing out your pleasure with his mouth. You hold him there with your legs until you can’t take the stimulation anymore, and when he pulls out of you and sits back on his heels, he imagines he must look mad.

Hair mussed, pupils blown, lips wet… you’ve made an utter fiend out of him.

“Suppose I did alright, then,” he observes with a smirk.

“Sebastian,” you sigh weakly. “Come kiss me.”

He bends down so you can wordlessly express your thanks with a lewd kiss – one that tastes like your own body’s release. It’s erotic, and wanton, and it reminds Sebastian of his aching, ignored cock that’s assuredly leaking all over his sheets by now.

“You must be in a dire state by now,” you observe, lips brushing against his.

“That’s an understatement,” he jokes. “I think I might faint if I wait any longer.”

“Then don’t wait,” you coo. “Go on, Seb, you can.”

He clenches his jaw hard when he sits back to guide his cock against your entrance. There’s no way he’s going to last long in this state, not with you spread open and waiting for him like this. Squeezing his hand around the base of his cock helps a bit while he sinks inside you, but he still feels overpowered by the immensity of the feeling of filling you up.

“Merlin, you’re big,” you hiss. “B-but it’s okay, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” he manages to ask.

You press your hands to his bare chest and he understands that it’s a wordless plea for him to pause, just for a moment. It’s pure torture, but he remains still inside you while you adjust.

“Merlin,” you whisper. “You’re really… we’re really…”

“I’m begging you, don’t say another word,” Sebastian grits out. “Or this will be over right now.”

You giggle, flattered by his admission, and even the motion of your body laughing threatens to put him over the edge.

“You know I don’t care about that,” you tell him softly. “Forget about your pride. I just want you to feel as good as you made me feel.”

Now Sebastian is the one at a loss for words, merely moaning as you drag your hands down his chest to his hips and encourage him to move.

Once he starts, he can’t stop. He tries to remember everything he’d read in that damn book: maintain a steady rhythm, don’t pull out all the way, keep pleasuring her with your hands…

Most of it he quickly disregards. He thinks to himself, how could he be doing this wrong? This feeling, fucking you, it feels like an instinct he never knew he had. He has to fill you over and over with his cock, he simply must.

And judging by the way you’re arching your back and crying out his name while he slams into you, he’s not leaving you unsatisfied.

In fact, he nearly sees stars when you slip a hand between your bodies and hurriedly rub at your clit until you’re coming again in what has to be some sort of record time. Only this time, when you reach your peak and your walls tighten around his cock, there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from falling right over the edge with you.

Sebastian feels properly spent by the time you both come back to your senses. Still buried inside you, he can feel how he’s filled you up with his release. It satisfies something in his feral hindbrain that much prefers spilling inside of you rather than his own hand.

He sees it start to leak out of you when he pulls out, and he recalls reading that a good wizard should offer his witch a rag to clean up after such a marvelous ending. He attempts to climb off the bed to track one down but you hook your leg behind his knee and whine for him to stay.

“I just want to get you–”

“No, I don’t need anything but you,” you insist, reaching for him to tug him down against your body.

Sebastian bests you when it comes to both height and breadth, but you don’t seem to mind his weight pinning you to the mattress. (Though even if you did, there’s hardly room for the two of you to lie beside each other in one of Hogwarts’ infuriatingly small beds.)

You’re both quiet for a while as you enjoy the simplicity of each other’s company, occasionally sharing a few lazy kisses or a whispered reminder of your love.

Eventually, Sebastian drawls, “I reckon I can return that book now.”

“Hold on,” you counter. “There may be some more tricks in there that we might want to try next time.”

“You dirty minx,” he laughs. “I suppose I’ve ‘bewitched’ you, have I?”

“Sebastian Sallow, I was bewitched by you quite long ago,” you tell him. “But we’ll have to wait and see whether that dirty book of yours gives you any more brilliant ideas for what to do with me.”

He thinks he quite likes the sound of that.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #my fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x reader #requests #another loss of virginity fic whoopsie #sebastian “i must be good at everything immediately or what's the point” sallow

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cambion-companion · 5 months

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I just read the imagine where Raphael is Tav’s established patron and it was perfect! I’d love if you could continue it in some way. 🌸

Hello my dear! I hope this is something akin to what you had in mind!

I wanted to write a little masquerade scene with Raphael forever. Probably will do it again in the future!

(Patron) Raphael x reader

The fabric of your gown hugged your legs as you twirled, the silken fabric brushing light along the polished floor. Your hand was lightly gripped by yet another masked partner, a phantom in a passing pretense of intimacy, you barely registered his owl mask and the dark glint of eyes beneath before he twirled you away into the arms of another.

You felt flushed, not pleasantly so, your cheeks beneath your own delicate mask had grown hot from the exertion of dancing with a plethora of silent partners.

The sound of strings being played lilted through the air, stirring your feet to continue the carefully learned dance. You paid no heed to the hand holding yours and guiding you through the steps, nor did you look at the new mask until some familiar scent cut through the heavy atmosphere to your nostrils.

You breathed in deep, then stopped breathing. The sickly-sweet register of cherries paired with an earthy musk, sharp and demanding. Just as the man from whom it emanated.

“I am disappointed in you.” Your patron murmured, hot breath sliding from your ear to your prickling neck. “Your presence at this masquerade is something I explicitly forbade.”

“Raphael.” You greeted; grateful your expression was covered mostly by your own mask. You took in the rich scarlet velvet and golden embroidery of Raphael’s tunic. The way his bronze mask curled up his cheekbones, illustrating the dangerous grin of a monstrous yet beautiful creature you could not name. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“That is self-evident, my dear.” His hand slid to the small of your back and rested with the weight of a clear warning. Raphael’s eyes cut away from your face to the man who now approached, intent on continuing the passing of partner to partner as the dance dictated.

One quelling glance was all it took from Raphael, the stranger adjusted his course and glided passed the two of you without incident. With a tilt to one side of his mouth, Raphael returned his severe attention to you.

You spoke before he could, knowing he appreciated your boldness even if it bordered at times upon impudence. “I have not directly countered your orders, master.” The reverential term seemed to soften him just enough for his shoulders to relax, you felt the subtle change beneath your fingers. “I am in attendance in accordance with your wishes to gain intelligence and not interfere directly.”

“You speak as though you are the one who has spent time immemorial learning the machinations of the mortal world. How to bend these lawless creatures and have them dance on your strings.” Raphael liked to hear his own voice. You would never admit it out loud, but you also didn’t mind hearing him speak. He leaned down slightly and punctuated his next words with a slight squeeze of your hand. “When it is I who has labored long to achieve such ends. You overstep yet again, my servant, forgetting your place as one of those little puppets who I direct to carry out my will.”

“I can help.” You could only hope he would believe you.

“I demand obedience.” Raphael led you in a slow dance, following the melodious music across the crowded floor. “You are currently serving only as a distraction. A hindrance.” That stung.

Again you were thankful for the mask that covered your blush of anger and embarrassment.

“Before I mete out your punishment, there is still work to be done. Let us put your loveliness to use.” With a sharp push and a flare of your skirts, Raphael sent you spinning away from his warm body.

You felt his eyes upon you still, even though he’d been swallowed up by the swirling crowd of perfumed partygoers. You scanned the vivid scene for your target, finding them easily. You squared your shoulders, put on a pleasant expression, and glided toward them. Perhaps if you were successful your patron would forgive your overreaching.

#raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael fanfic

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messrsbyler · 1 year

Text

byler headcanon where…

mike, who loves writing as we all know, also loves to read (duh) and one of his favorite books is the hobbit and, well, he kind of loses it when will confesses to him he hasn’t read it yet. so next day at school mike shoves his copy into will’s hands and tells him to read it so they can talk about it soon. and will reads it… but he’s not as fast as mike and he kind of dozes off the pages a lot when a scene gets really stuck in his head. next thing he knows he’s doodling in the margins of the book whatever just happened in the previous chapter with a pen nonetheless.

ofc will panics bc he knows mike loves to have his books in pristine condition and will didn’t mean to basically deface mike favorite book? so as soon as he’s back home he rushes to his room to check his savings and see if he has enough money to get mike a new copy. he doesn’t. maybe jonathan could help him out, or his mom, but it feels wrong to make them responsible for will’s mistake. besides, that would be lying to mike, and that’s something will won’t do.

next day mike is waiting for him at the school’s entrance with a bounce in his step and vibrant eyes. he wastes no time to ask “so? did you read it? did you like it? what was your favorite part?”.

will bites his lip and mike’s eyes drop to the book he’s holding in his hands. “uhm, mike. i-"

“yeah?”

“i sort of got distracted… while i was reading and i… uh-"

“hey” mike smiles at him and bumps their shoulders together. “it’s not big deal if you didn’t finish it yet. it’s a long book, after all. sorry, i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“you didn’t!” will rushes to say and mike’s brows spring up in surprise with a curious glance. “i mean, i haven’t finished it. but that’s not what i wanted… to say.”

“oh.” mike frowns. “so… you haven’t liked it so far? you don’t have to keep reading if-"

“i am liking it! a lot. but i also… i just… uhm, here. it’s better if you look by yourself.” will hands mike the copy did the book and glues his eyes to his shoes. his neck and cheeks prickle with heat at the same time something cold pools in his stomach. “sorry.”

“why are you-"

“just open it, mike.”

mike keeps quiet for a second and will can feel his eyes roaming through will’s body. and will knows mike is probably biting his tongue not to ask if he’s okay, if something happened, if it has to do with the upside down. he doesn’t ask, though, and will breathes a little better like that.

“okay, then?” and mike opens the book. and there, on the very first page at the title there’s nothing. mike keeps thumbing through the pages, probably confused. and then, “oh.”

yup, there it is. between the ending of a chapter and the beginning of another, will’s first doodle in the margins of the page. an illustration of what is happening in the pages with some of the blue ink smeared where will’s hand hovered too close to the paper and the smell of his ballpoint impressed on the page.

will looks up with his bottom lip still stuck between his teeth. mike’s eyes are pinned to the page, mouth barely parted and a frown barely hiding under his bangs.

“i’m so sorry, mike. i know you like to have your books as they come from the bookstore.” that is true. mike is the type of guy that rejects things like dog ears for marking a page or a broken spine. let alone a drawing in fucking blue ink in the middle of the book. “i- i kinda dozed off while reading? and i started doodling without noticing and then i saw what i did and it’s ink so i can’t erase it and- i thought on getting you a new copy. maybe next month? i probably can save enough by then-“

mike’s steady hand on his shoulder shuts will right up. he freezes under mike’s touch until his body recognises mike’s shape, the curve of his palm and the length of his fingers right where will’s neck connects with his shoulder. mike’s hand has been a constant weight there throughout their friendship. an anchor and a comfort, and so after the initial shock he gets whenever someone touches him (a little thing the upside down left him), will melted under the touch. his muscles go slack and he breathes out.

“will, i’m not mad.”

will blinks. he didn’t think mike would get mad. it’s hard to make mike mad, after all. well, no. that’s not true. it’s extremely easy to get mike worked up, but not for will. it’s as if mike has a few extra doses of patience reserved only for him. so, yeah. will didn’t expect mike to be mad, but he also didn’t expect to see mike smiling at him in that soft way of his, with a faint blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“you… are not?”

“of course not! are you kidding? will, this is so cool!” mike looks down at the drawing and his hand leaves will’s shoulder and a cold spot behind. mike’s fingers trace will’s defined lines in blue ink and it looks so… intimate. hell, is the sun suddenly hitting will with all its might? because he’s feeling a bit too squirmy and tickly on the back. and also a bit hot on the face. maybe he’s coming down with a fever. or maybe mike wheeler is being a menace to his health as always. “this drawing… it’s exactly what i see when i read the book.”

“really?” oh, great. just fantastic. more blushing.

“yeah. did you draw more?” mike thumbs through the pages and finds other two doodles, and he looks equally fascinated with both. “i… i love them, will.”

will could basically be classified as a new type of tomato right about now with how hot his cheeks burn. “you do?”

mike snorts and nods, looking up at will. “of course! why wouldn’t i? you know i love all of your art.”

deep breaths, byers. it’s not a good idea to hyperventilate right in front of your best friend you are in love with just because he loves your art. will clenches his hands and hides them in his pockets.

“uh, well. i just- i know you like to keep your books like brand new so- and that’s your favorite book too.”

“it for sure is my favorite one now.”

“huh?”

mike tilts his head and his eyes narrow to block the sunlight coming from will’s back. “well, because now you are in it, of course.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“that’s- cool.”

“yeah. cool.” mike smiles and will smiles back, feeling like he’s standing on air, as light as the clouds and about to float away at any second. but, well, even if he did, will knows would be there to keep him grounded and next to him. the thought is a bit dizzying and will pushes it away. “so… i’m guessing this is why you didn’t finish it? spent all the time doodling the scenes?” mike lifts the book and wiggles it in front of will.

will sighs. “yeah. maybe it was that.”

mike considers this for a moment and… okay, will isn’t sure what mike is even considering. next thing mike is snapping his fingers and giving the book back to will.

“tell you what. why don’t we head to mine after school?”

will tilts his head. “to read?”

“just trust me.”

the day comes and goes and before will knows it the last bell is ringing and he’s pushing his bike out of school and down the street to mike’s house with mike right beside him. will notices not lucas nor dustin follow them beyond their own houses. will also notices mike stops at lucas house for a few minutes before coming back next to will so they bike to his home. oh, okay. so this is a mike and will thing, and not a party thing. cool. that’s cool.

will isn’t sure what mike has in mind as they climb down to his basement. they slump down in the couch and mike opens his backpack right away.

“get the book,” he tells will and will does.

when he sits back up and look at mike, will is surprised to find another copy of the hobbit on mike’s lap. that one looks more worn down, with a broken spine and yellow-ish pages. definitely not mike’s.

will tenses and then melts when he feels mike’s thumb running up between his brows.

“stop with the growing,” mike laughs. “you are going to start to look to much like me.”

will rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “and what a tragedy would that be.” mike snorts and mike points at the book on mike’s lap. “where did that one come from?”

“i borrowed it from lucas.”

“oh. uhm, why?”

“so we can read! well,” mike gestures with his hands on the air like he does a lot when trying to get his point across. it’s a cute gesture will always notices. “so i can read while you draw.”

“huh?”

mike looks down at the book and there, again, there’s a faint shade of pink crawling up his neck and cheeks. mike shrugs and takes a breath in, looking back at will.

“i just thought i could, you know, read the book to you. out loud. i love the hobbit after all and a reread was long overdue. besides, like that you can keep drawing on my copy while i read to you.”

will’s eyes go a bit wide and he blinks in surprise. will knows mike as well as the palm of his hand, but there are moments when his best friend still manages to throw him out of balance in surprise.

“you want me to… keep drawing on your book?”

mike shrugs. it’s shy and contained, as if he was trying to make the gesture as small as possible. “if that’s okay with you.”

“is that okay with you?”

mike nods. “hell, yeah. like that, next time i read my copy i can see your drawings. i just… i don’t know… i think that would be pretty… cool.”

“cool?”

“yeah.”

will stares into mike’s eyes and goddamnit his heart better not throw him under the bus by jumping out of his mouth directly into mike’s lap. “okay. yeah, let’s do it.”

they find a comfortable position on the couch that ends up both of them laying on it in opposite directions, each of them resting their head on a couch arm and getting a pretty good view of the other. it’s a bit of a tight fit, especially since they aren’t little kids anymore and the couch didn’t care to grow along with them during all these years. but will is comfortable right where he is, with his hip pressed against mike’s hip, his legs being mike’s arm support, and just having mike this close at all.

it’s also not the most comfortable position to draw and will’s hand is about to cramp like hell, but he’ll choose to be haunted by another demogorgon before suggesting to move even an inch from where they are.

so, with his blue ballpoint in hand and both books opened at page 64, mike starts reading and will sinks into the melody of his voice, butterflies flapping against the edges of his stomach when mike makes voices for each character and when he sings under his breath the songs in a made up melody. mike’s voice wraps around will and guides his strokes on each page. will absorbed every word, every sentence, each one being carved in his brain with mike’s voice. his heart is pounding behind his ribs, fast but gentle at the same time, and soon he is dragged into a world of fantasy where the only ones from hawkins who remain to exist are him and mike.

they keep going like that for about a hundred and something pages and before they notice it a couple of hours have gone by.

“stay for dinner? we can keep reading after,” mike says as he stretches his arms up. his feet push against will’s shoulder.

“doesn’t your throat hurt reading for that long?” will asks, noticing mike’s voice as turned a bit raspier in the last hour. not something he hates, by any means. but, yeah. will notices.

“nah, i’m good. so, do you wanna?”

will smiles and nods. “yeah, sure.”

they don’t finish the book that night, but will doodles on many pages and by the time he gets home, he can still hear mike’s voice bouncing inside his ears, comforting and soft and just so… mike’s.

will slumps on bed face first and smiles into his pillow like the idiot in love he is. his fingers ache for keep drawing, but he doesn’t want to keep reading what’s left of the book without mike. this is their thing now, something they share and will wouldn’t have it any other way.

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joyburble · 1 year

Text

So, we see Donfang Qingcang reading on screen several times, and I think it's an important character message.

On encountering a problem, in episode 4, that can't be addressd by violence, what is the first thing our character does? He RTFMs. He sends Shanque to fetch the Fucking Manual, and he Reads It. What. In fact, they both read it, at least until they find the right bit.

Iconic. And adorable.

Definitely much less surprising in a Chinese genre than it would be in any English-language genre. But this section is so spectacular I want to give it a lot of weight.

The scroll is extremely long. He baulks, for a second, at the length,

but this, his face says, cannot possibly defeat him: he backs himself (I love it) and gets down to work.

It's illustrated. I'd love to hear from someone who can read any part of the text. He engages in detail with the content.

He continues in episode 5, having made some progress, and still backing himself to work out what it all means.

He takes it out on the balcony to study it by daylight. When his plans don't succeed at first, he doesn't reject the information, he thinks about it harder and compares it with the data.

Then something interesting happens: after making Orchid's tummyache better, he sits down, and without any stated reason tries to read something else, which looks like a completely normal book:

He can't focus because she's so sad, but we get a glimpse of the corner of a title label. When he puts it down, we can see it's a paperback stitched in the traditional Chinese manner.

It could be anything, but looks a reasonable size for a novel. There are also some other books on the table. Maybe they're technical works from Xiao Lanhua's library, and he's just bored and curious?

This wouldn't be as clear if it was the only example, or if we saw other characters repeatedly reading. But I don't think we do.

In episode 18 post-whump we learn again that what he does to relax and distract himself, when in pain and/or wanting attention, is read a book. It's a slim volume with a vertical format and a pretty, embellished cover. Perhaps a book of poems?

In Episode 26, now knowing he is loved, he is reading for fun again, with no explanation asked or given. Another sewn book, but in this case it has a hard cover with a shiny and colourful design. What could it be? Who knows? It seems to be making him smile a little.

The message we are getting, here, is that what he does when he wants to relax and enjoy life, is read. We’re supposed to understand that in his natural disposition, minus his father’s crimes and his profession of violence, he is a gentleman and a scholar. He is curious. He is capable of handling new information. He has brains and capabilities and ingenuity. He has a big ego, but he can put it in the engine room, not the driving seat. It's a gently-delivered message, but I think it contributes a lot to our perception of the character.

In dream-world episode 31, he is reading a scroll with Xiao Lanhua. Are they reading a story to each other? Doing the voices?

So apparently in his imagination it's a bonding activity too: you can read together with a person you love and share your reactions. A bit like you and I are doing now.

Finally, I think they published this behind-the-scenes shot for a reason (thank you @moonsupremesblog, and I'm sorry this probably should have been a reblog of this post but I got too far in before I remembered)

We can see it's Dylan Wang referring to a script, but we do a double-take because it's totally in character, the lighting, composition, and depth-of-field intentionally reinforce that effect, and we have to look at the plastic cover and the little place-tags to realise it isn't.

#cang lan jue #lbfad #love between fairy and devil #dylan wang #wang he di #reading on screen #cdrama #dongfang qingcang

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kennysbirthday · 2 months

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Vertigo

A Cot3 travelling circus au, with a touch of magic ✨ (Written for the Lockwood & Co. Big Bang 2023/2024!)

The living and the dead have always spoken equally to Lucy, and she doesn’t know where to focus any more. When disaster strikes at Jacob’s Travelling Circus, Lucy flees to London. There, she stumbles upon the world famous Fairfax Carnival, and falls back on an old con that her mother made her do as a child; swindling punters as a fake psychic. Lucy is content to blend into the background and be just another carnie, but when Annabel Ward, the trapeze star, disappears overnight, Lucy is forced into the spotlight in to a role she told herself she’d never do again. Add to that Lockwood's unhappiness about her getting a star act over him, and stopping the inspector investigating Annabel’s disappearance ratting her whereabouts to Jacobs; Lucy’s too distracted to even notice that the voices in her head are leading her right to the heart of the problem. She can’t ignore the signs forever, and when the mysterious figure lurking inside her crystal ball starts giving warnings about George and the Carnival’s secretary, Joplin, she and Lockwood must work together to figure out the dark secret behind the carnival’s popular attraction; the Hall Of Mirrors.

Welp, it's here, my fic posting day!! Chapter one is up, and the remainder of the fic will follow very soon (when work and health issues stop kicking my ass this week)

I want to give an absolutely massive shoutout to my teammates, @radishwizard and @ayeaye-capn. You two have both figuratively and literally been my rocks thoughout all of this. Without you two, this fic would not be possible. Thank you 💕🎪✨ The lovely tent illustration is what you'll see at the top of every chapter on ao3 with the chapter number, and was made by Radish, who also made a spectacular poster for the Fairfax Carnival!

And as always, all the love towards the organisers of @lockwoodandcobigbang2023, whout whom this event wouldn't have been possible. As I've mentioned in my art posts, you guys dragged me kicking and screaming out of an art *and* writing block, and I'll forever be grateful for that 💕

To anyone reading this; feel free to come yell in my dm's with me about this fic if you so wish. I've put so much love into creating this au and world, and I'm so excited to share it with y'all. I hope you all like this weird, niche, and oddly specific au as much as I do!!

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #cot3 #l&co big bang #lucy carlyle #george karim #anthony lockwood #jay writes things #lockwood & co netflix #lockwood and co big bang

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koushisbabie · 26 days

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UWU I HONESTLY YOUR WORK SO MUCH this is my first time on this app so I don’t really know much about it ! Thank you for putting so much effort in every post ,can I request sugawara x reader (how he would react when you keep biting your lip out of anxiety until it bleed ,cause lately I have been doing it a lot

Sorry because my English is not very good anyway HAVE A GREAT DAY ❤️❤️

Oh my gosh I am so sorry I completely forgot I got this request. Thank you for requesting a fic, and thank you for the compliment, you are so sweet T_T Comments like this give me the motivation to write more and get more creative with my ideas. In saying that, I hope your anxiety and your lip biting has gotten better <3 I don't know if you're still active on here, but I've written a small drabble (it ended up long haha) here for you! I hope you like it <3

‘Yo, Suga!’

Suga’s head appears from behind the precariously stacked wall of books on the library table. ‘Yes?’

‘Geez, isn’t that overdoing it?’ Asahi chuckles, gesturing to the books.

‘Well, I guess so,’ Suga replies, ‘but exams are only a week away.’ He shuffles aside some of the haphazardly strewn books and papers and pens, giving Asahi and Daichi space to sit down.

‘Where’s Yn?’ Daichi asks, peering around.

‘She’s around,’ Suga replies, ‘I think she went to the bathroom…’

‘I’m right here!’ Yn pops their head around the shelves. ‘I’ve been looking for this damn book for twenty minutes now.’

‘Oh yeah, looks like a long read.’

‘Can’t be helped,’ Yn says, sitting down next to Suga. ‘Tuesday’s exam is going to kick my ass if I don’t absorb this entire book.’

‘Take it easy, Yn,’ Daichi says. ‘You look a little tired, have you been sleeping alright?’

Suga glances at Daichi, then at Yn.

‘Well, yeah, kind of,’ Yn replies, nudging Suga’s arm affectionately. ‘Usually after we call.’

‘Which reminds me, I need to send you the link to this video that explains chapter eight in a bit more detail,’ Suga says absentmindedly. ‘It’s forty five minutes long but there’s some good illustrations in it that highlight how complex–’

‘You guys seem busy,’ Asahi interjects politely. ‘We should be heading off, we’ll tell the others that you’re studying this afternoon.’

‘Oh no, it’s okay,’ Yn says, glancing at their phone. ‘I actually forgot I promised I’d be home to receive a package later.’

‘You’re leaving already?’

‘Sorry,’ Yn says, ‘I’ll call you tonight, though? We can go through the last of these notes together!’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Suga replies, squeezing Yn’s hand before turning back to his notes.

Yn hesitates, before gathering their things and disappearing between the aisles of books.

An awkward silence falls between the friends, before Daichi pipes up.

‘Hey, Suga, did you see how red Yn’s lips were?’

Suga looks up from his notes, his pen paused above the paper. ‘You noticed it, too?’

‘It wasn’t subtle…’ Asahi says, quietly. ‘To be honest, I think they had been bleeding.’

‘Bleeding?’ Suga’s face fills with shock. ‘I didn’t realise it was that bad. I thought it was just sunburn.’

Daichi and Asahi share a look.

‘Okay,’ Daichi says sternly. ‘I see what’s going on. You’re too focused on your studying, you’ve neglected Yn. Maybe you should put the books away and spend some quality time with them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Suga asks, a little hurt.

‘Daichi’s right… I think Yn is really stressed. A lot of lip biting is caused by anxiety… I haven’t seen it that bad before, and I’ve known them for years.’

Suga pauses thoughtfully. ‘You’re right. The books could wait.’

‘We just mean–’

‘I have an idea,’ Suga says, grinning. ‘Thank you for slapping some sense into me.’

Yn arrives home sweating and tired, the heavy books in their bag weighing painfully on their back. They abandon the bag in the hallway and head to the bathroom, the light soft against their skin. They peer at their lips, swollen like a blossoming red rose. The urge to bite is strong, the pain satisfying momentarily distracts them from the bubbling anxiety in their belly.

Exams were only a week away but with the high percentage of worth the marks carry, anxiety had been slithering throughout the schools hallways like a giant snake stalking its prey, following students home so they could not find respite, even in their beds.

A knock at the door sounds loud and urgent.

As Yn pulls the door open, Suga almost drops the stack of books in his arms and the bags at his elbows.

‘Oh, Yn!’ Suga grins. ‘Mind if I come in?’

‘Of course,’ Yn says, bewildered. ‘Let me help you.’

In the living room, Yn places the stack of books on the coffee table, wondering how Suga could manage getting through them all with practice almost every afternoon. Despite being as passionate about volleyball as the others, he could somehow find the time to study when he really wants to.

‘So,’ Yn says, falling into the crease of the soft couch, ‘what brought you here?’

Suga glances at them, his mouth in a small frown, the creases between his brows knitted. ‘Look,’ he begins, ‘I have noticed that you’ve been a little… out of sorts, lately.’

Yn frowns, fidgeting in their lap with their fingers.

‘I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re less than beautiful, by the way!’ Suga says quickly, placing his hands on either side of Yn’s face.

Yn’s cheeks begin to flush. ‘What do you mean?’ They squeak.

Suga hesitates. ‘You’re doing it right now –’ Suga pauses, pointing at Yn’s lips, ‘you’re biting your lip too much!’

Yn swallows hard. ‘Oh. I hoped you wouldn’t notice.’

Suga smiles softly. ‘It took me a few moments to really see it.’ He hesitates. ‘I was too focused on studying, when I should have been looking out for you. I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s okay!’ Yn blushes. ‘You’re here now! And it’s just anxiety, I mean, it’s always there, what can you do?’

‘Well…’ Suga says, turning to the coffee table. ‘I’m not sure if any of this will help, but I wanted to make up for not being one hundred percent there for you when you’re anxious.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘These are just some small gifts,’ Suga says. He opens the thick paper bags, revealing a fluffy blanket, a few lip balms, a small box of tea, a journal, and all of Yn’s favourite snacks. ‘I know it’s not much, and it can’t fix your anxieties completely, BUT I do think that tea will help, and maybe you can journal some of your worries and one of these lip balms is good for deterring lip biting, I think,’ Suga says quickly. ‘And of course, the blanket is for when it gets cooler and we can play games or something, together.’

A comfortable silence fills the room. Yn processes the gesture slowly, their eyes welling, their chest swelling with butterflies.

‘Oh no,’ Suga says, pulling Yn into a hug, pressing them to his chest. ‘I’m sorry, was it too much?’

Yn breathes in his scent, the clean soapy smell mixed with the day’s activities. Familiarity and safety is how Yn would describe Suga and his hugs, the gesture alone could deter them from the worries that plagued their mind.

‘This is too nice,’ Yn murmurs. ‘It’s just a bitten lip, why are you doing so much over that?’

‘Well, I don’t know what’s going on in the background – I’d like to,’ he says quietly. ‘I’d like to sit here and listen to you talk about what’s worrying you, if you’d let me. You never have to, if you aren't comfortable, but I’m always here.’

‘I get it now,’ Yn says, sniffling. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bother you because I know you’ve been busy too. Exam season gets us all, doesn’t it?’

Suga laughs. ‘It does, but it’s my job to also look after you.’

‘Does it bother you?’ Yn asks quietly. ‘My lips…’

‘Well, it looks a little painful,’ Suga replies. ‘I’d hate for you to endure the pain or get an infection. That’s why I picked up the lip balm specifically for healing lips,’ he says, reading the back of the lip balm.

Yn curls into the crook of Suga’s arm, peering at the lip balm. Suga takes Yn’s chin, and tilts their head upward, gently applying the lip balm to their lips. The cooling sensation spreads over their lips like a lovely cool breeze. ‘It feels pretty good so far, thank you. Thank you for this. I never expect you to do anything for me, but this has made me feel a lot better – just knowing you care. That you’re here for me. Thank you.’

Suga smiles warmly, squeezing Yn against his chest. ‘If none of this helps you feel less anxious, I’ll just have to squish the anxieties out of you!’

‘Well,’ Yn squeaks, ‘I wouldn’t mind the cuddles!’

#haikyuu x reader #sugawara koushi #sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara x yn #sugawara fluff #sugawara koushi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koushi imagine #sawamura daichi #azumane asahi #haikyuu sugawara

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