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chrollohearttags · 1 month

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good girls finish last • e. jaeger

your best friend was always adamant that he’d have you and he follows through on it in a huge way.

word count: 2.3K

black fem!reader, heavy dom!eren (he’s yandere if you squint), PWOP, overstimulation, back licking, squirting, reader calls him daddy, calls reader princess, growling/marking, orgasm denial. he speaks German/Italian, many other themes I don’t feel like listing

in case you all were wondering what inspired this: enjoy! 🫶🏾

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“Mmmm!…please..”

“Shhh, keep your voice down, baby. I won’t say it again..”

the deep vibrato rang out in your ear in almost a growl like tone..his voice tantalizing and almost honey like as it deeper into your brain. He was trouble..that you had always known since the day you met him. Your best friend of several years, even when everyone else told you otherwise. However, that was of no consequence. Especially when you were certain that he was the only man for you. Someone who saw your flaws as perfections, who thought the world of you even when you seemed insignificant. It was more than what could be said of the man who had you before..hence why he was now there to pick up the pieces.

“..don’t talk, just breathe..that’s all you need to do right now. Just focus on my voice..” the command simultaneous with the sounds and sensation of his thick, warm fingertips fluidly moving in and out of your warmth. Your slick building up on the hilt of his knuckles as he flexed his wrist. His tattooed digits and arm were already decorated in the remnants of your previous orgasms and he was looking to add more to the collection. “I—I just..this isn’t right..we shouldn’t be doing this.” A statement only followed by that same maniacal laughter you had heard many times before and a soft clutch around your throat. “And why is that? Hmm..scared that he’s gonna walk in here? Good, let him see what a real man is supposed to do.” Even so, your chest couldn’t help but to heave with every delicate, calculated movement he made. Working your cunt over with the most intricate of strokes. He occasionally uses his free hand to squeeze your throat or grope your tits that were pulled from your tank top. That thong dangling at your ankles and your plaid skirt flipped up to expose your lower half..he was enjoying this! All of it far more than he should’ve but he couldn’t help himself, really. Eren had been in love with you since the two of you first became acquainted. Those beautiful lips, those thighs and pretty dark skin he found so perfect..the best part was? It was all his!…regardless of how many losers you allowed into your life. You were his lady, forever and always. And he’d make certain that everyone knew it. Removing that hand from your throat, he’d quickly replace it with a trail of gentle kisses. As well as the slight drudge of his teeth up the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you get it? We were always supposed to be together. Just me and you against the world, princess. That’s what you told me, right?” Your answer seemingly coming a moment too late for him, as he snatched your head around to meet his gaze. “Right?!” “Ah!—yes! Yes, daddy..” the name inciting more of a fire in him than before. Truth be told, he knew you liked it. You loved it, in fact. That much apparent by the subtle smirk on your face. “Look at you fucking smiling..admit it, mama. You never loved him. You were only pretending. You always were such a people pleaser..my good girl.” His voice dropped even lower as his fingers elevated to your g-spot once more. Pressing on the fleshy pad and making you writhe in his grasp. You were as good as stuck..you wouldn’t leave this spot. This bed where you and your ex had consummated your relationship several times. And not once did it ever bring you the thrill and rush that fucking Eren did. The way he spoke to you, held you close and made you feel as if he existed solely for you.

“But that’s why I’m here…you don’t have to appease anyone. You can be selfish with me, baby. Give in to what you really want…so tell me..what is that? Tell me what you want me to do…” all the while, his movements became sped up and you were clawing at his tattooed forearm; mere seconds from climaxing whilst he coaxed you through it. “C’mon, closed mouths don’t get fed, princess. Talk to me..” just as smooth as ever and devilish as well. He always had such a way with words and knew exactly how to articulate them to get his wishes. Maybe that’s why so many people despised the cocky brunette. Because he was the total package, head to toe. But an asshole to his core. Still, that didn’t mean shit to him..or you! Through your lens, he was picture perfect and nothing could change that. Working those digits in and out, you’d finally screech and yelp, unable to keep your voice lowered and in response, all he could do was laugh. Knowing that you were trying so hard to spare the feelings of someone you shouldn’t have. You’d quickly cup your hand over your mouth but to no avail.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Don’t want your ‘man’ to hear us? Hear me playing with this lil’ pussy? Afraid it might break his little heart? You’re so considerate..” sarcastically stroking the side of your face with a lilt in his tone. But there was simply no need for you to be so courteous. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. He’s with another bitch right now. Somewhere laid up with a girl who couldn’t even think of competing with you. So why hold back, baby? Why are you trying to fight what’s meant to be for his sake?”

in a moment of haste, Eren retracted his fingers and used them momentarily to pacify your cries. He’d work them in between your jaws and meanwhile, usher you onto all fours. Prompting you to arch your back. Just as quickly, he’d tug those sweatpants down and remove his shirt in the process. He could feel you teeming right on the edge of climatic bliss but he was selfish. He needed to reach that point with you…to feel every bit and part of you as you made it to that point. Once he freed his stiff cock from those boxers, he’d align himself with your slit and immediately begin slapping it against your folds. Leaning down, he’d lace your shoulder blades with those same markings on your neck; biting gently into your flesh like a predator claiming its sweet little prey. Grunting and moaning into your ear how gorgeous you were and how he couldn’t wait to beat your pussy up. You were so delicate, soft and pretty. But he couldn’t help but to defile you..to make you a product of his sick perversions. He’d dreamed of the nights that he could pound this little pussy into oblivion. Making you cream on his shaft until you left him an utter mess..going deep until he forced you to squirt all over him and then shortly after, breed you so that he was with you in more ways than one. Having vivid daydreams of your belly swollen with his kid..it was the ultimate sign of possession!

“Fuck me, Eren! I can’t take it…” “..now where’s those manners you love so much? Say please..” there was that slick mouth. You always loved it when you weren’t the one on the receiving end but seeing as you were about to combust, you were feeding into it. “Please, daddy. I need it so bad..need you to make me come, right now..”

grasping at the sheets beneath you, you’d feel a sharp sting when his palm collided with your asscheek before those same fingers laced your throat. Eren never did like being told what to do but for you?…he could possibly overlook it.

“Shhhh! pazienza, amore mio..” pushing a finger to your lips.

the switch in dialect sending a pang to your stomach. You were always so fond of the fact that he was trilingual, being the son of immigrants. He’d tested it out on you earlier in the night as his tongue drudged between your folds and lapped at your clit. He’d begin complimenting your flavor and scent in his native languages; letting the words ooze like honey.

“We’ll get there when I say so..” suddenly, you’d feel yourself become full as he impaled you on his cock. Shoving that girthy, long member into that swollen heat. It was no time before you acclimated, despite his massive size. It was almost as if you designed just for him. “Ahh…so fucking tight. Just like old times..when you’d sneak out of class or practice, just to come fuck me. Ooh..that pussy felt so good..” Referring to your high school days when you were just alike. Delinquents and deviants only caring about each other. Fast forward and you were trying to get your act together. In college, new job, and supposedly a new man. However, old habits die hard and he was a hell of a one to crack. “You used to be such a slut f’r me. Let’s see if you still have it in you..” mocking whilst he smacked your ass repeatedly, telling you to meet his thrusts. The collision of that plump backside driving him crazy, especially when you reached back voluntarily and spread yourself open; glancing back with a smirk on your face. “Mmm..like that?” “Fuuuck..yeah, there’s my nasty lil’ bitch. Here..open up.” In one fell swoop, Eren tugged your head back and your jaw would fall slack; opening your enough for him to fill it with spit which made you giggle in return.

“Mmm, thank you, daddy..” he couldn’t help but to twitch each time you uttered the moniker. It always did sound so much sexier when you said. “You’re so welcome, princess..thank you for being so patient. I know you wanna come so bad. I want you to..” as he persisted with his speech, his strokes became a bit more sped up. The sounds of clapping flesh growing louder as well as your moans.

“ ‘Rennn…oh my God..” “..that’s right, baby. Pray to me, worship this fucking dick like you used to.” Commanding that you take it. Tightening his grip on the back of your neck, he’d force (y/n) face down, flat on the mattress in a prone position. Now, he could go as fast as he pleased without you faltering. “I’m the only one that can make you feel this good. The fuck were you thinking give my pussy to these fuck ass little boys? Are you crazy?” Seemingly switching his demeanor midway. That side of him always did scare you. But he’d never even so much as entertain the thought of hurting his princess. The only pain he wanted to cause you was consensual and pleasure filled. The kind you’d beg for.

“Nnngh, I’m so sorry, daddy. I’m so fucking sorry..” your voice high pitched and wailing as he pounded you mercilessly. You couldn’t take another minute of this. Your bladder felt as if it were going up burst, your eyes rolling back and tears staining your cheek. But he was inconsolable, thinking about another man in this bed with you. Being inside of you without a clue of how to make you happy. That was his job and his alone.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…don’t cry. I’m not mad at you..I’m just so disappointed that you’d settle like this..” breaking into yet another chuckle whilst his strokes became sporadic. “Please!..I’m so close..” “I know, I know you are..” leaning down to mark your spine with kisses as he lifted you back up and to also rattle off in your ear. “..so let’s get you there, pretty girl..” just then, those strokes would reach maximum speed and you’d find yourself trying to brace but you were coming undone! You could barely keep a grasp on those sheets and he was drilling you like no one’s business. Tugging you back to his chest with that same grasp on your throat, Eren kept talking; coaching you through your orgasm. Telling you when you squeeze and hold your muscles. To not release until he gave you explicit permission. Meanwhile, he’d stroke your clit repeatedly until you were nearly convulsing, trying to hold back. You had always trusted him but this teasing was too much to bear. You had to let go right now! And luckily, he wouldn’t keep you waiting for much longer

“Come for me, princess! Come for me..squirt on my dick! Spritz auf meinen Schwanz..” repeating the phrase a couple times more with a heavy growl and with that accent peeking through, you’d fall apart right there in his grasp, releasing a puddle onto his cock and the linen. You were finished; completely spent and on the brink of collapse. But he was quick to hold you in place and steal one last peck from those pretty lips.

“I love you..I love you so fucking much..you hear me? Don’t you ever leave me again..” his voice faint through his seemingly overwhelming amounts of emotions. He was so happy that you were back where you belonged. In his arms, in his life. Maybe being a goody two shoes got you nowhere and you’d gotten your heart broken trying to do the right thing…

“I love you more, baby..I’m right here..”

and hell, maybe good girls did finish last but if this was what was waiting at the end of the line?

“I’ll never leave you again, Eren. I promise.”

you’d fall behind every time!

@dancingwithdeities @iadoreprettygirls @arminsbbymami

@shamelesshoefairy @chiquititaosita @greenieweeniesworld @ichigosluvrr @thickbihhwitdagapp

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supercutszns · 3 months

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bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth.

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying.

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known.

Meet me tomorrow.

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be.

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest.

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces.

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows.

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is.

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off.

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh.

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.”

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed.

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly.

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck.

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare.

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then?

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.”

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you.

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it.

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip.

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz.

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back.

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used.

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it?

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it.

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth.

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom.

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open.

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin.

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince.

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games.

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry.

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees.

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter.

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on.

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling.

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills.

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.”

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday.

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else.

Until he pulls away. Like a dick.

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out.

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him.

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake.

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him.

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie.

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy!

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you.

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges.

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!”

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers.

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night.

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees.

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain.

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms.

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe.

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.”

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel.

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air.

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin.

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.”

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids.

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises.

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake.

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you.

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree.

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real.

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which.

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.”

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever.

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.”

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?”

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side.

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood.

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together.

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway.

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you.

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol.

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you.

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side.

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad.

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away.

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!”

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth.

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?”

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar.

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.”

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing.

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart.

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong.

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply.

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame.

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear.

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one.

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely.

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz

rotten taglist: @thaliagracesgf

leave a pm/comment/ask if you'd like to be added to a taglist :)

#perrie’s fics #rotten to the touch #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #luke castellan pjo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #charlie bushnell #pjo x reader #luke castellan fic

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helluvapoison · 3 months

Text

Lucifer x Imp!Reader

warnings: imp bigotry, heavy topics, lowkey angsty (happy end, i swear)

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Secret relationship, baby!

• Let’s get into the hard part first, shall we? The discrimination of Imps isn’t something Lucifer set into motion. They helped him build Hell into what it is today—! Which is… flawed. Fuck, there’s no excuse. Know that he doesn’t condone it and he’s ashamed to admit he allowed it get this far

• That saying “history repeats itself”? Yeah, Hell isn’t immune

• It’s an elephant in the room situation when your and Lucifer’s feelings come into play. Along with the enormous power imbalance. He would never take advantage of that, by the way, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there

• Those issues are in the beginning though. Yes, it takes a lot of time and many painful conversations but now? Undoubtedly worth it

• Lucifer is quite proud of himself for the charade he concocted. You pose as his employee! No one would question it and you could hang around as much as you like! It’s perfect, right?

• “It sounds like a shitty romcom plot.” You snort

Lucifer’s smile is unwavering, eyebrows high on his face as he awaits what he longs to hear.

“But?”

Sighing, you softly return his smile, “It’s perfect.”

• And like a shitty romcom, it is

• Naturally, there’s ups and downs

• For Lucifer, the worst is that he hates keeping you a secret. It’s not that he wants to dish it live with Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench, he’s rather private as is, he’s just so— happy! He wants to show how proud he is to be yours! Unfortunately, that would do more harm for all of Hell. Selfish as his wants might be, he wouldn’t do that. Especially if it meant putting you in danger

• Occasionally he takes you to meetings and events. You try and slip into the background, supporting him from the shadows. Even from the other side of the room, Lucifer’s eyes will find you standing amongst the other Imps. He accidentally ends up ignoring whoever’s trying to rub elbows with the King of Hell

• (Honestly, it’s a miracle no one has found you two out yet. His longing gazes are far from subtle)

• Sometimes those outings don’t end well. A blue blooded dickbag might’ve dumped their drink on you or shoved you because you were “in the way” or berated you in front of everyone. Lucifer sees red and the entire event is cut short via a demonic rage. On a positive note, his publicity goes off the charts! “King of Hell defends his people, no matter the race!”

• (A motherfucking miracle, I tell you)

• Lucifer likes to take care of you when those incidents occur. He feels guilty. For everything. Reassuring him has always easy for you in any other situation. This one just bleeds into something personal. A failure

• So, you let him take care of you. It improves his mood bit by bit. Could be pancakes! No matter the time of day, Lucifer’s go-to are pancakes. (He’ll simply die all over again if you let him feed you too) Could be a bath for the two of you to share, he loves washing you and putting a bubble beard on your face

• Sleepovers can be a tad difficult to pull off but no one disturbs him in the mornings. He loves having you in his arms all night long. Kissing your horns, forehead, eyes, nose and lips— yes, in that order— before wishing you only the sweetest dreams

• Lucifer has a rubber duck that looks uncannily like you sitting on his desk at all times

• Oh! And despite being an Imp, you’re still taller than your beloved short king. It’s slight but he adores the difference

♡ a/n: if i had a nickel for every time a blue blood fell in love with an imp, i’d have /three nickels HAHAHA

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer

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shuichi-sama · 23 days

Text

to heal with you.

park jongseong x reader, park sunghoon x reader (one sided)

description: jay offers to save you from the clutches of your one sided love with your best friend, park sunghoon.

warnings: angst, unrequited love, feeling of unworthiness, cheating, idk what else.

note: lower case intended! not really proof read, bad case of bad writing, sorry! i’m a sucker for angst especially unrequited love!

_________________________________________________

“i could never tell him.” you declare to jay, who’s rubbing circles on your back to soothe your shattering heart.

you were madly in love with one of your best friend, park sunghoon, but as luck would have it those feelings weren’t reciprocated. how’d you know? it was plainly obvious. sunghoon seats a couple of tables away in the cafeteria with the girl who captivates his heart in ways you wish you could but would never.

she was everything you could never amount to be. beautiful, smart, confident, outgoing, popular, and the worse thing? the apple of sunghoon’s eyes. he truly could never see a flaw within her, not like she had one to begin with.

you on the other hand? not so much. considering yourself average in the looks department, you manage to pass classes but nothing worthy of an academic award or appraisals from those around you. you were timid, your friend only knowing of your playful personality. popularity? you knew it through sunghoon and your mutual friends, though you were never the talk of bathroom gossip.

and you certainly weren’t the apple to sunghoon’s eyes, at least not anymore like when you were kids.

you didn’t lack in the importance of his life, at least you wishfully hoped. however you currently weren’t the focus of it either, no matter how heart broken and live-less you seem to become these past few weeks, seeping worry each of your mutual friends, much like park jongseong who’s search every way to console your raging emotions but falling short no matter how hard he tried.

you know he wishes to say something to put a bandaid over your heart, but words could only do so much. you were still grateful though, his attempt never going unnoticed by you.

you were truly thankful for jay, he was your pillar these days holding you up through this stage in life, caught between the cross road of wanting to ruin your friendship with sunghoon or living with the pain of knowing he would never be yours. you knew as much as the next person, the willingness to swallow the words “i love you” like they were glass of water, only for it to turn in to needles at your throat.

“do you want me to try to bring him here? i know how much it’s bothering you seeing him there and not here.” jay tries ways to stop your heart from breaking everyday, even if it meant putting a wedge on his other friends romantic pursuit for another girl that wasn’t, y/n.

“no, there’s no use anyways, it would be pointless.” you explain, playing with the tips of your fingers in a circular motion. “you’d just be wasting your energy, only to come back empty handed.”

“i could make up and excuse, maybe tell him you’re not feeling good? we could even take you to the nurse office and pretend your sick.” jay was sweet enough to paint a scenario and plant a white lie just for your cause. you shook your head. you didn’t want to get Jay caught up in a lie, no matter how white it may be. you simply knew the outcome, and have to live with it.

“he won’t trust me.”

“yes, he will,he’s your best friend he would always come to you.” jay exclaims trying to persuade you.

“yea?” you scoff recalling memories of just a week ago, when you began to understand that sunghoon’s priorities had change enough to forget about you on an a very important day. “what kind of best friend, forgets their friendship anniversary celebration after months of planning.”

“no call, no text, no nothing.” your fingers thread through your hair in exhaustion from the painful memories of that night. you cried so much that night enough to swim in a river of your tears. “he wanted to finally teach me how to ice skate that day so I waited at the ice rink. At first i thought he was late but then 10 minutes turned into 30 and 30 turned into an hour.”

“I didn’t want to think he bailed on me, because i didn’t believe sunghoon would be capable of forgetting such an important day for the both of us, you know? so you know what i did?”

jay could feel his own rage of emotions as you continue to explain. he didn’t really want to hear the rest of it not because he feels for you, his heart hurts for you, if only it could burn for you instead, maybe then he could ease your pain as he tells you to finish your story.

“i kept waiting for two hours. my thumbs were frozen at that point. even after waiting i fooled myself to think he was still late and would show up that evening to eat. i went to the restaurant we made a reservation at. i had been telling sunghoon about it for quite a while now, he must have been grown tired of me because he reserved it despite how pricey it was. but in the end he never showed.”

“i had dinner alone that night, .” you laughed at your ridiculousness. “how stupid is that right?”

jay shook his head. “it’s not stupid at all.”

you continue, story not even remotely close to finished. “we also made plans to go get ice cream, i probably would have fooled myself to go there too if it hadn’t started raining.” and as if luck had it that night, you hadn’t brought an umbrella either. “i couldn’t believe sunghoon had forgotten, i was worried something had happened. not once did he call or text me back so i walk to his house to make sure he was okay.”

you choke back a sob wanting to escape your lips. “and when i got to his place, i saw him through his window, seating at the kitchen counter with, sana.”

finally you broke down, even in an area full of

students you couldn’t hold back anymore. your heart and brain clacking, one asking to let it all out, the other demanding to hold it back in. the throbbing feelings becoming to much, you heart winning the internal war that going on within. “he should’ve seen the way he was looking at her, jay. he looked so happy and my heart breaks knowing I could never be that kind of happiness for him.”

jay turns you around, his arms enclosing you around his. his hands coursing through your hair, pushing you into the crock his neck as you weep into it, snot and hot tears dampened the white of his shirt. jay didn’t care though.

“i ran home that night in the rain, i got sick the following day. the scab on my knee reminds me of the pain i felt that night.”

he had seen the bruising on your leg after you told him about a fall you had the previous night. jay knew too well of your sickness. he had taken care of you, being the one to bring you medicine and hot homemade soup, draped a cool towel on your forehead for your fever. though he hadn’t known the reason behind you being sick, thinking it had been nothing but a common flu.

jay can only pat your head, tears slowing down their aggression but not showing any sign of stopping only dry heaving being the aggravator. “i hate this so much, jay. i can’t no more. i truly wish i never knew love, why waste my time on something i dont deserve? maybe then i would be happy.”

jay becomes angry, but he doesn’t try to show it on his face, glossing it over with a look of sternness yet concern as he pulls you away so you can stare at his face. “hey, hey, hey, don’t ever say that okay!”

your eyes rim red, you hold his gaze. his hands cupping your cheeks making it impossible to look away if you wanted to, the warmness of his eyes don’t let you go. “don’t ever say you don’t deserve to be loved, the only people who don’t deserve any type of love are criminals and bad people, okay?

he wipes his thumbs on your cheek catching trailing tears. “just because someone isn’t in love with you right now doesn’t mean there won’t be somebody is the future, okay?”

“you are a beautiful, amazing, kind, quirky, shy and a great friend, so many lovable qualities and anyone would be lucky to be in love with you.” jay praising you warms the coldest parts of your heart, melting the ice that had built around it.

you sniffled. “but sunghoon won’t ever be sunghoon.”

jay turns to look at sunghoon, his soft stare hardening just at a glance of his friend for lacking a seventh sense. how could he not see what was right in front of him? he turns back to you, eyes soft once again. “sunghoon is too blind to see what’s in front of him, baby.”

“it just hurts, jay, i want this feeling to be gone.” you clench what anyone would assume is your sweater, though the initials, P.S.H, writing on the tag on the back of your neck says otherwise. “i’ve tried to get rid of it, this dark feeling.”

“i know, baby, i know.” jay can only sigh.

“sunoo said to try dating even if i don’t have an interest in them, so i’ve gone on dates, countless of them.”

“even if i don’t have any feelings for them i try hoping that these feelings for sunghoon would go away. but how can i date someone i don’t even know? let alone if i’m not interested in them? it would be different if i at least knew them, you know? at least i would be comfortable around them. i can’t even think of a second date, one the first one isn’t even finish.”

you sigh for the infinite time this week. it’s like an bad re-occurring habit of yours lately, it wasn’t healthy in the slightest. “I’m just exhausted, tired of giving my time of day to guys who don’t even truly try to get to know me, most of them are just guys trying to get into my pants at the end of the day.”

“sorry, i’m drama dumping on you again, jay you must be so tired of me.” your head wants to hang lose, but his hands prevent you from doing so.

jay shakes his head no. “no, baby, i could never grow tired of you, y/n.”

the smile you flash him genuine, but it doesn’t quite your eyes. “thank you jay, for always being there for me.”

“I’ll always help you, y/n. so let me help you again.”

“what do you mean?” You asked confused.

“date me, y/n.” just as hot tears ascend on your face yet again, they are halted by his words.

at first, jay had caught himself of guard with his own words but as he thinks about it in his head, it only seems to makes more sense.

if there was someone else yearning for your happiness, other than you, was jay. you meant a great deal to him as a friend so he though, if not him than who to help you move on?

“what? jay, are you listening to yourself? you know i like sunghoon.” bewilderment written all over your face.

yes, he knows you didn’t have to explain it to him. “i know you do, but it’s like you said, if you only try with someone you knew you would feel more comfortable right? you could move on.”

you shook your head, it being incapable of wrapping itself around jay’s idea. “jay, you don’t even like me that.”

“i know, it doesn’t mean i can’t learn to.”

your body grows frigid and jay can feel it in the palm of his hands cupping your cheek. you’re in utter disbelief at his words. providing that jay is one of your closest friend, now more than ever, if you hadn’t known him you would assuming the boy was joking with you.

his aura being intimidating and so handsome you’d think he’d be some type of playboy. he was the complete opposite of what he seemed. the definition of looks like he could kill is you, is a cinnamon roll. a very sweet one at that. you’d gain more than one cavity.

aside from sweet, handsome, he was kind, respect, a balance between outgoing and introverted when need be. attentive to every needs, including that of his friends and family, as of lately yours. In the dictionary, under the word perfect and boyfriend, you would be sure to find his name writing in bold letter, PARK JONGSEONG. You were sure of it, but would you be willing to risk this safety net of friendship you have with Jay just for your own benefit, to be able to move on from this unrequited love?

you’re quiet state allows jay to perceive your face longer, dried tears on your face, your mascara smudge at the corner of your eyes. he wipes his fingers over it, wiping it clean to the best of his ability. he doesn’t relent on his words to convince you.

“if it’s any concelation, im doing this for myself too.” your head tilts, in question, unsure of what benefit he could get out of courting you. entertainment? No way, never. jay wasn’t like that, he would never. from what jay has told you, when he dates, he dates to commit.

“i haven’t told you this, you’ve probably heard know i haven’t dated anyone in about a year.” jay explains.

jay was quite popular among school, female and male crowd alike. rumors of jay being single ropes plenty of beautiful people to his feet, but he never paid any mind to any of them even after a year when the rumors of him being single began to spread. “i had a girlfriend, we were together for about three years, we were young but i truly thought she was the one. i even started to consider marriage just fresh out of high school, stupid I know right?” you shake your head no.

jay chuckles recalling his last memories of his last relationship and the scar they left within him. “well I thought I was because after giving her three years of my time, i found her sleeping with my own brother.”

your heart breaks all over again, this time not for sunghoon but for the man in front of you, park jongseong. “they were seeing each other behind my back for a whole year.”

to say you were discombobulated at the revelation would be an understatement. no words could describe just how muddled you felt at the idea of someone cheating on jay. he who was loyal, a kind soul, emotionally available, a good listener, honest, respectful every trait that you could think of that makes a boyfriend the greenest of green flags. if anyone deserved happiness and love it was him.

“what? jay-“ you try to speak, to comfort, console him like he has done with you plenty of time’s but he stops you. he has had plenty of time to mourn relationship that only brought him pain, but he still lives with the scars. maybe it was time for a change, to find someone he could share not only his troubles but also his ideas of love.

“let me finish please.” he pleads, so you let him. “i was angry, i hated them, for doing this to me, for lying, breaking my heart.”

“i hated myself for that matter. i let myself love so hard that i became blind to see the signs that were right in front of me. i hated myself for wasting those three years on her.” as he incriminates himself you want to stop him becoming angry at his words, yet respecting his wishes. your eyes never lose contact with his, not even for a second. “but no matter how much i think back to it i would still do it all over again because i learned that i’m worthy of love and that i deserve the purest form of it. i simply hadn’t found the perfect person who could possibly understand me, til i found you.”

“i have a lot of love to give, just like you, baby, so give me yours and i’ll give you mine. and then maybe we can learn to love each other and heal from these scars we have together.”

these revelations show you a jay you had never known. he was always the life of the party a smile gracing his intricate details, carrying himself with confidence and living life gracefully.

your heart hurts him, like his hurts for you.

“jay-“ your throat is hoarse and you lick your lips dry lips wet to talk. “i just don’t want you to feel like i’m pressuring you into this. i know I’m hurting now but it’s not enough for me to say yes to force you into a relationship that may come from nothing, you’d waste your time trying to learn to love me, what if our feelings never change?”

“then at least we can say we tried.” he responds. “you’re not pressuring me. and you’re never a waste of time to me, y/n, you never are.” he gives you a tight smile on his.

jay knew the possibility of nothing coming out of them dating, he also understood of the risk of something actually coming out of it- what if only one of them truly falls in love, what if they both fell in love with each other other but weren’t each others happy ending in the long run? so many possibilities were endless. who were they not to try though? weren’t you both already suffering from heart break? what’s one more?

“i know something could possibly not come out of it, or something possibly could, many possibilities. i’m willing to try, y/n, the question is are you?”

your line of thought is intent of not risking a friendship. a relationship formed of similar characteristics of failed love, one of disloyalty, another of unrequited love, could this one also end in failure?

sharing heart break caused by important people in their lives, jay and you, found solace and support from each other. truly who were you to say no? why not try to mend two heart that ache to be loved similarly. both understanding of the agony of those who were too blind to see what was right in front of them, two people full of love and ready to serve it on a silver platter only to be taken for granted.

you weren’t sure of the future, could jay be your happy ending? could you be his? you’d never know unless you tried.

“okay.” you agreed, not yielding to your brain or your heart, instead you choose to listen to the man in front of you who’s trusting you with his own.

“yea?” he asks for confirmation, a feeling of liberation already settling in. jay knew he deserved love, now he just had to show you deserved it too.

“yes, let’s try together.” you reassure him. not believing you were worthy of love, you still don’t but you would gladly learn from him and in return you would give him the love he seeks.

“yes, let’s try together.”

jay smiles. it’s soft on his features, reassuring that from now on, his purpose was to make you happy and you him.

he leads your turned body forward, showering your body in his comfort without much effort. his arms drape just tight enough to support your body closely, like you could let go any moment, take back your word and he would let you. silence lingers around you only the chattering of students around the campus and the full spring breeze kissing the dampness of your face.

you break the quietude. the silence overbearing your already intrusive thoughts. Coming back in full circle rubbing your back much like before, this time not of sadness but of hope to possibly seeing a happy you in the near future. jay listens to your concerns keenly, precisely as the beginning of it all, the day you officially opened to anyone aside from your girl-friends about sunghoon and the undying love you feel for him.

“i’m scared, jay. what if I waver as soon as I see him?” you stay attached together.

he knew it would be tough, your situations being different from his. jay’s ex-girlfriend at a different side of town while sunghoon roams the same halls as you, the both of you sharing the same mutual friends, you house filled with memories with him.

your love for sunghoon is fresh. it runs deeps into your heart, like a fresh wound that if submerged under water it stings. even after it resurface, the feelings lingers and prolongs til it turns into a scab during it’s absence. only for it to peel off at his appearance, the stinging feeling being relived all over again til it finally heals after a long time.

jay back tracks on his words, before he could spill them. eyes hardening at the movement he follows. his heart dropping, he doesn’t let it deter him. his fingers stroke soft trails down your soft strands.

“don’t worry, i got you.” he says, putting you at ease with his words.

he is relieved your back is turned. the very man that haunts every fiber of your body by his mere presence is getting up from the very table he had perched himself for the past hour, chatting away with the crowd among it, attentively engaging with the girl, you have become envious off, itching to be in her spot next to sunghoon.

sunghoon makes his way to your direction. jay avoids making any eye contact by pulling away from you taking your face in his hands again. your cheeks and eyes puffed out from your crying, red tainting the rounded corners of your face.

sunghoon greets passers-by who recognize him drawing nearer to your table causing jay heart to quicken at an ungodly rate, they meet eyes and sunghoon waves. heart torn between his actions and his words.

he’s told you he’s got you, he won’t be letting you down. “do you trust me?”

trust, faith, reliance words you could associate with jay. you’d trust him with your life and that was a given. never challenging you to question his choices and action, today wouldn’t be any different from the rest.

it only takes a nod for jay to decide.

his dark eyes cast downward starting at your eyes, to the tip your nose and ending at your lips. they are pouty, the balm you glossed over previously nowhere in sight. jay can’t help but imagine his lips on yours. the thought of intimacy by placing a kiss on them thrills him, not having the pleasure to feel the lips of another in so long after his last breakup. just the idea feels foreign to him, nonetheless nervousness courses the blue of his veins.

he knew there would be no turning back after this. lines would be crossed, and risks will be taken. in spite of his racing thoughts and his palpating heart, he finds himself leaning forward, eyes fluttering close, to kiss you.

the breaths you had taken before stolen by his sudden action. his warm and soft lips tender on your own, lips unmoving. you didn’t pull away, and hyper aware of the closeness of his face, you practically count the short lashes of his eyes.

withdrawing himself away from you, his eyes open to look into yours that were staring right back at him. left speechless, you were unaware of the figure standing not even 3 steps away.

it wasn’t long til you look away bashfully, looking anywhere but jay. only then noticing sunghoon, who had witness the kiss that had just been exchange by the both of you. your heart that was previously unsettling, thumping against your ears and chest because of jay, now replaced by a sinking feeling to your stomach at the presence of sunghoon.

his silence was louder than any words given that moment.

sunghoon eyes dances between the both you. a perplexing feeling wrapping around his throat and choking him of his words.

to many questions plague the tip of his tongue.

when did you become so close with jay? were you both dating now? why didn’t he know? why didn’t you ever tell him? have you been blowing him off because of jay this whole time? if he grew angry at the thought, he didn’t show it. he looks directly at you noticing your quiet demeanor.

“hey, hoon.” the sound of jay’s voice reaching his ears pulls him from he’s endless thought’s, noticing just how quiet he was since he planted himself in front of the table you and jay occupied together.

“hey, uh” sunghoon didn’t even know what to say, so he reframes from saying anything only asking the obvious questions he should be asking. “so, the two of you?”

“yea.” jay glances at you, eyes still glued on sunghoon figure. he turns back to sunghoon, hiding his true feelings behind a plastic shy smile. “we are together.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” he looks at you for an answer, but you remain voiceless. jay understands the difficulty you are in. it’s as if you were in the spotlight of a stage and someone just threw cold water on you.

jay take’s it upon himself to answer sunghoon instead. “i guess can say today is day one.”

“oh, congratulations.” is the only thing sunghoon can think to say, his head still trapped in limbo trying to make sense of everything. he pushes it to the back of his head, he’s two best friend dating, he should be happy for them, he was.

sunghoon beams a smile at you both. “really guys, i’m happy for you, congrats.”

those words were the last words to your heart into a million pieces. but you were thankful for them. allowing you to close the chapter that was park sunghoon, and opening a brand new one with park jongseong.

jay who’s hand grasps your own now, gives it a small squeeze, telling you he was by your. giving you the courage you desperately needed.

you lean into jay, grabbing his hand to pull his arm flushed against your front one hand still entwined with his, you fake it with a smile. “thank you, hoonie, i really needed to hear you say that.”

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darling-zain · 10 months

Text

✮ ↳ The Show Must Go On ↰

♡ yandere! actor x gn reader♡

tw/cw: slight obsession, nothing too detailed

authors notes: first work and i wrote this in one sitting...it's okay we're fine ♥ also i may have based him off of myself and i will probably do that with a lot of my ocs! my bad i'm just a theater kid who likes to write

➼ yandere! Actor who first only knew you as one of the stagehands, always flitting back and forth behind the curtains.

➼ yandere! Actor who didn't even know your name until you got promoted to prop manager.

➼ yandere! Actor who never knew how every character that he played fell in love with someone at first glance, but as soon as you walked onto the stage and started giving out your orders, it was like the heavens had shone their light upon you and you only.

➼ yandere! Actor who was infatuated with everything about you. Your responsibility, your assured nature, the way you'd sternly correct him when he messed up his lines because he "should be reading off his script, not off my face".

➼ yandere! Actor who was always on top of his game, one of the best actors in his region, yet when you looked at him with your concentrated eyes it was like he was a rookie again.

➼ yandere! Actor who would be stuttering and tripping over his words on purpose just to get you to come up and read it with him, your warm body so close to his that he could almost taste the perfume you were wearing.

➼ yandere! Actor whose heart raced whenever you praised him, even a simple "good work today" would give him butterflies.

➼ yandere! Actor who knew that opening night was approaching, so he worked day and night to memorize his lines. The excited smile on your face when he was able to perform the whole dress rehearsal without flaw was something he'd never forget.

➼ yandere! Actor who, standing behind the curtain on the first day of their showing, suddenly started to shake. He's been in the industry so long that he forgot what it's like to have pre-show anxiety, and he doesn't even know how to deal with it. Suddenly, a warm hand is put on his shoulder.

"You're shaking." You point out, turning him around to face you. "Why? Are you feeling alright?" You place the back of your hand on his forehead to feel his temperature. "You're not warm, so you're not sick..." You think about it for a second, looking him in the eyes with a warm smile. "Are you...nervous?"

Aurelian doesn't speak, instead, he just nods. He's ashamed of you having to see him like this, the Aurelian Yavuz, getting jitters right before the opening night of one of his most popular shows.

"Hey, look at me." Your voice is soft, yet commanding, forcing him to look into your assuring eyes. You place both your hands on his shoulders, gripping them firmly to help ground him.

"You've done this show countless times before, and we've read the script together so many times that it should be burned into your brain by now." He laughs slightly, a sign that your motivation is working.

"You're one of the best actors I've ever worked with, and one of the most dedicated as well. You've spent so many hours reading, fixing, and editing this performance so that it's just right and absolutely nothing could go wrong. Am I correct?"

He nods again, making you click your tongue.

"Use your words. Am I correct, yes or no?" Your firm tone makes it hard for him to disobey, especially when you look at him with those fierce eyes.

He gulps, taking a deep breath before responding.

"Yes, you're correct. I've done so much to make sure that this show is perfect, so I have no reason to be nervous." He stands up straighter and walks backstage, adjusting his costume in the mirror. "Plus, I know that you'll be watching, so everything will be okay~." He winks at you from the mirror, making you chuckle.

"Exactly. We behind the curtain will be making sure that everything goes smoothly, so all you have to do is go out there and do what you do best." The lights start to dim as the audience applauds. You pat him on the back and adjust his collar for him.

"The stage is yours, Auri." you nod at him as he takes a deep breath, walking out onto the large wooden stage to loud cheering. His voice booms through the stage, and soon enough, the show is over. The cast takes their final standing bow and walks back to their dressing rooms. Aurelius makes a beeline for the lighting booth where you are usually sitting; he bursts through the door backstage, only to find your seat empty.

"What...?" he looks around for any trace of you, but it's like you've disappeared. He takes a seat in your chair and waits for what seemed like hours to him because of how tired he was. 15 minutes after the show ends, he hears your voice from outside the door. he gets up to open the door, but as soon as he does, the door opens with a creak. There you are, standing in the doorway with a coffee in one hand and your bag in the other, looking up at him surprised.

"Auri, why haven't you changed? Everyone's already leaving, you should go too-"

"You weren't watching." He cuts you off, looking at you with cold, dead eyes.

You look at him confused, setting your bag down on the floor. "What are you-"

"Why weren't you watching?"

#zain>>works #yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere #yandere x you #soft yandere #oc x reader #god i think i blanked out writing this #it's now half past one in the morning #i can't remember how i got here #all i remember is having an idea and needing to write it immediately #it's fine it's okay #we ball #anyway this is my first work i hope yall weren't expecting much

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devildomwriter · 24 days

Text

A Devildom Easter Egg Extravaganza

Diavolo decides to hold an Easter egg hunt. Shenanigans ensue.

Slight x reader for Lucifer, Diavolo, Mephistopheles, Barbatos

[Student Council Room]

Lucifer: “You really mean to hold…an Easter egg hunt?”

Diavolo: “Why, yes! I think it will be great fun!”

Mephistopheles: “My Lord, everything you do is brilliant!”

Diavolo: “Thank you!”

Mephistopheles: “However…this holiday is in celebration of everything we are against…as is Christmas for that matter but that’s become popular here recently…”

Diavolo: *nodding* “Yes. I understand that these holidays traditionally represent and celebrate our opposites. So celebrating them not only promotes goodwill with the angels and religious exchange students but also draws attention away from its original purpose.”

Lucifer: “I see, so that’s your angle.”

Mephistopheles: “Am I missing something?”

Lucifer: “We are celebrating and promoting the secular traditions instead. Celebrating bunnies, eggs, and candy rather than my father and father-brother.”

Diavolo: “Ahahaha.”

Mephistopheles: “Father-brother?”

Lucifer: “We’re done discussing this.”

Diavolo: “Anyway. I think it would be great fun to hide eggs all around RAD for the exchange students and any willing RAD students to join in. I understand it may not be especially popular with demons but I do want to incorporate holidays important to others too. It is vital to accept and learn about each other’s cultures and traditions to better respect and understand each other.”

Barbatos: “Well said, my lord.”

Mephistopheles: “In that case, I’d be more than happy to promote this in the newspaper! Leave it to me.”

Diavolo: “Thank you, Mephistopheles. I knew I could count on you!”

[Purgatory Hall]

Luke: “A what?”

Solomon: “An Easter egg hunt.”

Raphael: “We’ll be busy.”

MC: “Oh, really…”

Simeon: “Yes, we must celebrate our father-brother, after all.”

MC: “That’s such a weird way to say Jesus.”

Raphael: “Those are the only words in your language to accurately describe him.”

MC: “Right. Will you really be in the celestial realm all day though?”

Simeon: “Umm well…”

Raphael: *glaring* “We should be.”

Luke: “…”

Solomon: “You’re going to make Luke sad.”

Luke: “Wh! Hey!”

Raphael: “Luke has no reason to be sad.”

MC: “C’mon Raph, you can’t make a kid miss an Easter egg hunt. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

Raphael: “That’s an inaccurate description of cruel and unusual punishment.”

MC: “But it’s true though.”

Raphael: *sigh* “I suppose we can come back after service and the banquet.”

Simeon: “Wonderful!”

Luke: “Yay! Sir Raphael, you’re the best!”

MC: “Okay, the angels are in. Let’s go tell Thirteen.”

Solomon: “I believe Diavolo already has.”

MC: “Really?”

Solomon: “Yes. He said something about some eggs containing special surprises.”

Raphael: “I have a bad feeling about this…”

[Lucifer’s Private Study]

Lucifer: “I have a headache already.”

Solomon: “Hahahaha!”

MC: “So he’s really having her rig the eggs?”

Lucifer: “Many of them yes. I fear she’s taking it overboard, hoping Solomon will find them all.”

Solomon: “How thoughtful.”

Lucifer: “How can you be wise and yet so oblivious, honestly?”

Solomon: “It just shows she’s thinking of me. She really is a good friend.”

MC: “You may need better friends.”

Lucifer: “Considering most of them want to kill you, I’d have to agree.”

Solomon: “Most? I wouldn’t say that most of them do.”

MC: “Even some of them is an issue…”

Solomon: “Well, regardless I think this hunt will be fun. You’ll be participating yes?”

MC: “I already asked if I could hide them instead.”

Solomon: “You’d like to hide them? Not find them?”

MC: “I used to hide them for the neighborhood kids. They’d still turn up years later.”

Solomon: “Don’t you suppose that’s too good at hiding them?”

MC: “You can never be too good at something unless it’s illegal.”

Solomon: “I…suppose that’s true.”

Lucifer: “That is a flawed argument and the fact you think that makes my headache worse, please leave Solomon.”

Solomon: “Only me?”

Lucifer: “That’s what I said.”

Solomon: “Wow, so cruel, Lucifer. I suppose I’ll see you this weekend.”

Lucifer: “Yes, goodbye now.”

MC: “Soooo…what’d you want to talk about?”

Lucifer: “Nothing, I just wanted him to leave and your company soothes me.”

MC: “I thought I was giving you a headache?”

Lucifer: “You do, but it’s nothing compared to Mammon.”

MC: “That’s fair.”

MC: “So are you going to compete?”

Lucifer: “Finding the eggs?”

MC: “Yeah.”

Lucifer: *smirks* “Will I get a reward if I do?”

MC: “Hmm…maybe?”

Lucifer: “I see…then I suppose I will.”

MC: “Yes! This going to be so much fun!” *hugs*

Lucifer: *blushes* “Only you could make me so excited about this holiday.”

[The Day Before Easter | RAD]

Diavolo: “Oh, MC! I can’t tell you how excited I am to be hiding these with you!”

MC: “About that…don’t you want to participate?”

Diavolo: “I think preparing it is just as exciting! Besides, there will be some places by Barbatos too and I won’t know where those are.”

MC: “So, you’ll be looking for the ones he hid?”

Diavolo: “Yes, as I oversee everything.”

MC: “Good, I love to see you have fun!”

Diavolo: “I feel the same way. Hopefully, you’ll do a bit of searching too?”

MC: “Sure, I’ll walk with you and we’ll see who finds them first.”

Diavolo: “A competition? How fun! I can hardly wait.”

Barbatos: “Young master, here are the baskets.”

MC: “That’s…a lot of eggs.”

Diavolo: “Yes, this may take us all night, I’m so excited.”

Barbatos: “MC, be careful not to trigger the traps.”

MC: “How would I know?”

Barbatos: “They’re in separate baskets, just handle them more delicately and take care they don’t open up, even the slightest bit.”

MC: “Right…”

Diavolo: “Oh my, look how this own sparkles, MC, isn’t it just—“

MC: “Where’d he go!?”

Barbatos: “And I just warned him too…”

MC: “Okay, but where did he go?”

In the distance, you hear roaring laughter and look to see a light on in RAD.

MC: “I found him.”

Barbatos: *sigh* “I suppose I should supervise this shouldn’t I?”

MC: “It’ll be okay, I’ll protect him.”

Barbatos: “Ever so reliable, MC. It’s what I love most about you.”

MC: *blushing* “G-Glad you feel that way.”

A small explosion sounds from inside.

MC: “He’s…not being careful. At all.”

Barbatos: “Good luck.”

MC: “What’ve I done?”

[A Few Hours Later]

Diavolo sits next to you on the RAD lawn covered in pink and yellow powder, hair spiked, and hands puffy and pink.

MC: “Sooo….”

Diavolo: “That was so much fun!”

MC: “Thirteen wasn’t happy about resetting them all though.”

Diavolo: “Yes, I did apologize.”

MC: “I think she laughed hard enough to forgive you.”

Diavolo: “Yes it was quite excessive.”

MC: “That’s rich coming from you.”

Diavolo: “Hm? What do you mean?”

MC: “If you laughed and a bomb went off at the same time, I’d hear you.”

Diavolo: “Pfft! Ahahahahaha.”

MC: “My point exactly. Anyway…Barbatos will skin me alive if you come back looking like this.”

You take his hands and whisper an incantation, lips close to his inflamed hands. The pink vanished and his hands returned to normal. Diavolo let out a sigh of relief.

Diavolo: “Thank goodness. That was quite itchy.”

MC: “Now all you need is a serious bath.”

Diavolo: “Oh, will you be giving it to me?”

MC: “Wh—“

Diavolo: “Ahahahaha! I’m only kidding.”

MC: “That’s a shame.”

Diavolo: “What?”

MC: “What?”

Diavolo: *sigh* “Why don’t we go get some rest and meet early again tomorrow before the others arrive.”

MC: “Sounds like a plan.”

Diavolo smiles and ruffles your hair. You attempt to do the same but your hand gets stuck to his gelled hair, the result of an egg surprise. You stare at him, hand stuck in his hair and he stares back at you when a familiar person clears their throat.

Thirteen: “Uh…the eggs have been reset. Am I interrupting something?”

Diavolo: “We seem to be stuck.”

Thirteen: “Hahahah! Serves you right, anyway I’m headed out.”

MC: “You’re gonna leave us here?”

Thirteen: “Yes!”

Diavolo: “I see…I suppose we should call Barbatos?”

MC: “Yeah…”

[Early the next morning | House of Lamentation]

Asmodeus: “MC! You’re finally back! Where’ve you been all night? Don’t tell me you- ooooh!”

Lucifer lightly smacks Asmodeus over the back of the head.

Asmodeus: “Ow! Lucifer you big meanie.”

Lucifer: “Don’t imply such things.”

Asmodeus: “But they were gone aaaalll night. Isn’t that right? And who were they with? The hunky—“

Lucifer: “Be quiet.”

Mammon: “What’s goin’ on down here!?”

Mammon: “Hey! MC! You’re finally back!”

Satan: “I was getting worried.”

Belphegor: “Mmhm.”

MC: “One of Thirteen’s traps went off…”

Lucifer: “I see. That explains things then.”

Asmodeus: “Boo. I was hoping for some gossip.”

Belphegor: “That’s the same thing as saying you hope Diavolo and MC hooked up.”

Mammon: “Hold on, what happened!?”

Satan: “Nothing happened, Mammon. Pay attention.”

MC: “My hand got stuck to Diavolo, that’s all.”

Beelzebub: “Stuck?”

Mammon: “Huh? Stuck where!”

MC: “His head.”

Asmodeus: “Which o—“

All: “Shut up, Asmo!”

You got a few hours of rest before your alarm went off. You already had good morning texts from the angels reminding you of the importance of the day and you smiled and sighed. You changed into your Easter outfit and put on the rabbit ear headband Diavolo insisted all participants wear.

[Easter Morning | RAD Courtyard]

Diavolo: “MC! I’m so glad you’re here!”

MC: “As promised.”

Barbatos: “Good. Participants should be showing up in a few hours and—“

Mephistopheles: “Good morning everyone.”

Diavolo: “Ah, good morning, Mephistopheles.”

Mephistopheles: “Hm? You still have baskets?”

MC: “We couldn’t finish hiding them all…there was a mishap.”

Mephistopheles: “Oh? Of what nature.”

Barbatos: “The details aren’t necessary. Why don’t you take a few pictures of the setup before we begin? See if you can spot an egg and photograph it.”

Mephistopheles: “Right. And MC.”

MC: “Hm?”

Mephistopheles: “Happy Easter?”

MC: “Aww! Thank you Mephisto, that means a lot coming from you.”

Mephistopheles: “What does that mean?”

Diavolo: “I’m so glad to see you embracing change, Mephistopheles. Very well done!”

Mephistopheles: “Naturally! One can’t help but be swayed by your genius and example, my lord.”

MC: *muttering* “Here we go.”

Barbatos: *chuckles*

After a few hours You, Diavolo, and Barbatos had finished hiding the rest of the eggs and just sat down by the sign-in booth when you heard a loud scream coming from RAD.

Barbatos: *sigh* “I told him to photograph the egg not open it.”

Diavolo: “Ahahaha!”

Barbatos left swiftly to investigate and as soon as he vanished around the corner, a loud group approached the booth.

Lucifer: “We’ve arrived. I apologize if we’re late.”

Satan: “Yes, someone wouldn’t wake up.”

Belphegor: *zzz*

Asmodeus: “I can’t believe the bunny ears are staying on even though he’s slumped over Beel’s shoulder. I have to get a picture.”

Beelzebub: “Asmo…”

Asmodeus: “What? It might generate more attention for the event, right?”

Diavolo: “Wonderful idea, Asmodeus.”

Asmodeus: “Thank you!”

Lucifer: *sigh*

Mammon: “So…I heard there’d be a prize.”

Leviathan: “Two minutes, I called it.”

Asmodeus: “Tch, I really thought it’d be sooner.”

Mammon: “Huh? Are you betting on me? Without me?”

Satan: “That wouldn’t make any sense idiot.”

Lucifer: “All of you shut up and sign in.”

Leviathan: “Eep! Okay.”

The brothers signed their names. Beelzebub signed Belphegor in for him and you sat around and talked.

Mephistopheles returned with Barbatos looking very flustered and uncomfortable.

Lucifer: “What in the Devildom is that mess?”

Mephistopheles: “Thirteen.”

Lucifer: “Oh. So you set off a trap.”

Leviathan: “Does no one find it alarmingly easy to set them off? Like, didn’t even Lord Diavolo do that?”

You heard an amused chuckle from behind you.

Thirteen: “Duh. That’s what makes it fun.”

Barbatos: “Thirteen. What wonderful timing you have. Mind telling me what Mephistopheles is currently covered in?”

Thirteen: “That’s just a personal concoction of highly flammable spider web spray.”

Mephistopheles: “Of what!?”

Mammon: “Bahahaha!”

Mephistopheles: “Get it off of me this instant!”

MC: “Calm down Mephi, I got you.”

Mephistopheles: “Mephi?”

You brought forth a torrent of water to flush the web off Mephistopheles and then a gust of wind to blow him and his clothes dry.

He was left momentarily stunned before he sighed, patted himself down, and smoothed out his hair.

Barbatos turned on the bright lights around RAD to illuminate the lawn as the other students showed up. The presence of more than a few students elated Diavolo and the happy gleam in his eyes made all the trouble worth it.

Near the end of the thirteenth hour, a beam appeared from the sky. At first, everyone stumbled back in fear but as it disappeared, Simeon, Raphael, and Luke appeared in its place.

Barbatos: “I could’ve opened the portal.”

Raphael: “This was faster.”

Mammon: “Gave me a freakin’ heart attack!”

Raphael: “Why?”

Luke: “MC! I’m here!”

MC: “Hello, Luke! Your Easter uniform is so cute!”

Luke: “Huh? I’m supposed to look gentlemanly not cute!”

Simeon: “You can be both.”

Luke: “No I can’t!”

Solomon: “Good morning everyone. I’m not late am I?”

Simeon: “No. We just arrived.”

Raphael was looking around from the sign-in booth, already scanning the area for eggs as though it were a mission. It gave you chills to see his serious expression but at the same time made you laugh because this was only an Easter egg hunt.

You noticed that Lucifer was doing the same thing but he was being slightly less obvious about it, giving himself reasons to be turned in a certain direction rather than just openly staring.

Luke: “MC! Will you be on my team?”

Mammon: “What? We’re forming teams!?”

Solomon: “Are we?”

Barbatos: *shaking his head* “I suppose if you wanted to you could however anything you find would be evenly split between you and not counted as a whole.”

Satan: “Every demon for themself.”

Lucifer: “I agree.”

Satan: “I’m no longer certain.”

Lucifer: *sigh*

Diavolo: “Hahahaha!”

Belphegor: “Mm…quiet.”

Beelzebub: “Belphie, are you awake?”

Belphegor: “What…what’s on my head?”

Asmodeus: “Those are your bunny ears! And you look adorable!”

Belphegor: “Ugh. Kill me now.”

Asmodeus: “Your sleepy bunny pic has already generated so many likes!”

Belphegor: “My what?”

MC: “So how was the sermon? Is that what it was?”

Luke: *sobbing*

MC: “What’d I do?”

Simeon: “Each year, we visit the past to review the events before and during Easter and the future it will bring.”

MC: “That sounds emotionally traumatic.”

Raphael: “It is. And now we’re here. Looking for eggs…”

Mammon: “Just as father intended!”

Raphael pulls out his spear and Mammon takes off.

MC: “He deserves that right?”

Asmodeus: “Mhm.”

Lucifer: “Honestly…”

Thirteen: “He’s got some guts to piss an angel off on Easter.”

Mephistopheles: “Right. Especially when it’s about their father slash brother or something…”

MC: “Speaking of father and brother…”

You looked between Lucifer and Satan as they watched you. They looked at each other, back at you and Satan bared his fangs as his brothers and Diavolo managed to contain their laughter.

Satan: “Not another word!”

Beelzebub: “They didn’t say anything.”

Solomon: “Hahaha! I get it. Because Lucifer and Satan have the same dynamic.”

As Raphael runs past you he protests this idea and continues after Mammon who’s tripping over bushes in his escape attempt.

Diavolo: “Should we stop them?”

Simeon: “He earned it.” *scary smile*

Luke: “Simeon. You have that scary look in your eyes again.”

Simeon: “Oh, do I? My apologies.”

MC: “Anyway…it’s a good idea you came here after so Luke can recover from his trauma a little more easily.”

Luke: “It never goes away.”

Mephistopheles: “I’m not sure I like the haunted look in your eye.”

Solomon: “It’s weird when Luke is serious.”

Luke: “Hey what does that mean!? I’m always serious.”

Mephistopheles: “Good he’s back.”

Simeon: “Ah, yes. It does weigh heavily on us angels. Thank you for this event, Diavolo.”

Diavolo: “Yes, of course! Speaking of, it’s just about time to begin. Can someone go fetch Mammon and Raphael?”

Lucifer: “I’ll do it.”

Beelzebub: “I’ll go with him.”

Belphegor: “Set me down somewhere first.”

Beelzebub: “Okay.”

Belphegor is placed gently on top of a bush as Beelzebub runs after Lucifer. He begins sinking into the bush and you and the others watch as the branches begin to slowly snap and he disappears into the leaves.

As soon as Raphael and Mammon are reeled in and Mammon is forced to grovel for an apology, Diavolo is given the microphone and you, Lucifer, Barbatos, and Mephistopheles work together to hand everyone a woven basket to place their found eggs in.

Diavolo: “Everyone will have an hour to find as many eggs as possible, they are everyone beyond this booth on the RAD ground and I do mean everywhere so give it your best shot!”

Diavolo: “Many of the eggs contain wonderful surprises! Coupons for your favorite cafes, gift cards for your favorite stores, Grimm, fun tokens, cup-cuties, and more! But beware because there are also eggs that contain a wide variety of tricks of all kinds! You should expect flesh-eating piranha plants, bees, angry spiders, blasts of spider webs, teleportation, and potential small explosions!”

Luke and Mammon turned white but the demon students seemed extra excited by this news. Danger was an everyday occurrence for them and simply counted as fun or mildly inconvenient at best. As a human, you had a protection spell placed upon you in case of minor explosions. Luke and Simeon also had protective spells. Raphael opted to forgo this as he “wasn’t weak.”

With a wide smile, Diavolo raised his hand and everyone gathered into groups or faced the directions they planned to scour.

Diavolo: “On your marks!”

Diavolo: “Get ready!”

Diavolo: “Set!”

Diavolo: “GO!”

The ground shook as the hundreds of demons, three angels, reaper, and human sprinted past the booth.

You laughed and Diavolo helped you regain balance and handed you your basket.

Diavolo: “Shall we go observe?”

An explosion went off.

MC: “Yes!”

Barbatos trailed far behind you and Diavolo so you could talk more privately. You passed by students stuck to walls with spider webs. Students dressed more oddly than when they’d arrived. You passed by Mammon hanging from the ceiling and weren’t sure whether it had been Raphael, Lucifer, or a genuine trap. Either way, Diavolo burst into laughter alerting the others to your location immediately.

Barbatos cut Mammon down and you continued to walk with your empty basket as you enjoyed the sounds of chaos all around you.

Diavolo eyed your basket and nudged you gently.

Diavolo: “Is there someone you were hoping to go find eggs with?”

(To be continued | the remaining story with be different based on the character you choose to go with. They are all currently being written and will all be released in the following week unless unforeseen circumstances delay the writing)

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sukimii · 1 year

Text

Clingy

Tags: fuff, slight angst, foul language, touch-starved!Reader

Notes: Before reading any of my fics please read this first, thank you.

"Do you even love me?"

"Yes" your answer is immediate, with no hesitation. Of course, you love him, if you could write it in the sky you would. Yet now, the man you love is angry at you, with a mix of disappointment while you're on the verge of crying.

"Then why the fuck aren't you initiating shit?"

You know you should say something. You know you should open up and explain your behavior, but it's easier said than done. Because in the past, whenever you opened up no one listened. They either pretended not to hear or changed the topic of conversation. So you settled on pretending.

Over the years you became good at faking your moods and smiles. It came naturally for you to plaster a smile on your face and make it believable. You became good at pretending you were fine, when in fact you wanted nothing more than to have someone to listen. But no one ever did. No one cared enough to listen to the end, because as long as it doesn't concern them your insecurities are irrelevant.

"If I don't text you, you don't. If I don't call you, you don't. If I don't kiss you, you don't. Why the fuck are we in a relationship then?" The anger in his voice is deafening. It makes you want to crawl on yourself, wishing to disappear. You can feel his resentment in your bones. You know you should speak up, but your voice seems to be stuck in your throat.

"I didn't call you for three fucking days to see if you would. And guess what? You didn't!" Bakugou's eyes narrow on you, waiting for an answer that he will probably never get. "Why the fuck aren't you speaking?! Do you even give a shit about me? About our relationship?"

"I-I do care"

"Fucking bullshit." He scoffs, one hand dragging along the roots of his hair while the other one curled into a fist. "If you cared you would've reached for me. If you cared you would show it through your actions. If you cared-"

You can't listen to all your flaws.

He's listing the very same things people in your past had complained about. The sad part is that you already know the endgame, which only worsens the angst creeping up your back.

Bakugou is the only person you managed to fall in love with. He's the only one that makes you feel important, the only one that always waits for you. He is the first one that makes your heart beat so loud to the point of tuning out the world. He is the only one that keeps you on your toes. The only one that can awaken emotions buried in the depths of your heart and soul.

But now, having him complain about you was destroying your already fragile heart. All the wounds that you managed to somehow patch over the years are now ripped open again. It hurts. His words are like stabs, and you don't have the strength to listen. Because the man you love isn't willing to wait anymore.

You should've seen this coming. It was bound to happen. But your childish self, that small part of you that believes in hope, thought he was going to be the exception. You feel betrayed, by yourself. And you snap.

"BECAUSE YOU WILL HATE IT!"

Your breathing is heavy and ragged, tears already spilling down your cheeks while Bakugou is stunned to silence, watching you with both his eyebrows raised. Then he frowns.

"Why would I hate it?"

"Because everyone does, sooner or later." You can feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, and you sniff, using the abused napkin in your hand to wipe it. "You say now that you want me to do all those things, but as soon as I do you will get sick of me. So-" you choke back another sob, gathering your phone and bag. "It's best if we break up. Sorry for wasting your time" and with those final words, you get up from the table, intent on leaving his house.

It's always like this.

In every relationship that you had, it always ended up with them complaining about you. Something, at the end of the day, made you unable to satisfy them properly. There's always something wrong with you. You. You're your own reason why no one can ever stand you. Right now, all you want to do is get back to your house and cry out all your frustrations. But before you reach the handle, something tugs your other wrist, spinning you around into a hard chest.

"You're not going away, not when you're opening up. Fucking finally" Bakugou drags you back to the living room, this time on the couch. All your protests fall on deaf ears, even the attempts of pushing him away are an utter failure.

"Sit your ass down and start chirpin'."

To Bakugou it's clear that there is a problem, which might run deeper than he originally expected. So he waits for you to speak up.

Yet again, you seem to lose your voice, uncomfortable under his stare, and you look anywhere but at him.

After several beats of silence - disrupted by your sniffs in a poor attempt to not cry- Bakugou sighs. "If we- if you don't speak up, I don't know how to help you. I already have a feeling of what the problem might be, but I want you to tell me. I want to hear it from you."

You mull a little over his words, weighing down your options. The past experiences with childhood friends, exes, and family members, taught you to never expect anything from anyone. Sometimes people pretend to listen because their goal is to seem nice, but once they realize that the problem is nothing interesting, they drop the subject. And as much as you love Bakugou, you don't believe he'll be any different.

"There's nothing too important. It's exactly what I said it is. You think I don't want to hold your hand? You think I don't want to wrap my whole body on you like a koala all day? I crave physical touch, I crave it so bad, but I can't. I can't" as you keep spilling out your frustrations, your voice grows bitter and resentful. "Because you enjoy it in the beginning, but then you'll get sick of it and call me clingy, just like everyone else did! I know that after, you'll tell me to 'get a life', to 'go bother someone else' and I don't want it to happen again! Because I'll be the one getting heartbroken while you all keep surfing life as if you didn't stump on my stupid, useless feelings! You're no different from the others, once you get what you want then I hold no value in your eyes. Just another bitch to add to the fuck list no-" Bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, and you finally look at him.

He looks… sad. His eyes are soft, mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks at you with what you could describe as pity. But in reality, you couldn't be any farther from the truth, because Bakugou isn't pitying you. No. He understands you.

"We already fucked, two months ago. And I'm still here, aren't I?" His voice is gentle, probably the softest you've ever heard him. As if trying to soothe a wounded animal. It's endearing.

Blinking the heavy veil of unshed tears away, you give him a couple of nods.

"Do you really think I would do something like that to you? Do you think I would say to anybody that I love them?" his palm slides down your neck until it rests comfortably at the back of your head. With breath stuck in your lungs, you offer him a soft shake of your head, no. You don't think Bakugou is that type, but you never know.

"Do you have any idea of how much I want you to do all those things? Fuck- be a fucking leech for all I care, just-!" His forehead lightly bumps into yours, the tip of the nose rubbing a couple of times against yours. His eyes are transfixed into yours, and you can feel goosebumps raise on your whole body at the intensity of his stare.

"I don't care if I'm in an uncomfortable position. I don't care if you're all sweaty from working out or if I'm barely standing because of a rough day. I want you to do anything you want. You want to spoon me? Do it. You want to hold my hand in public? Do it. You want hugs when I'm busy? Do it. Fuckin' do it. I don't care. Fuck- I could be in the middle of an important call and I still wouldn't refuse your attention!" His head dips into the crook of your shoulder while leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

"I don't care what shit-stain you dated before me, all I care about is for you to be comfortable with me. Do you understand?" His arms are circling your back, holding you tight, but not enough to cut the breath out of you. You sniff, suppressing another sob that threatens to come out.

"Y-yes"

"Then hug me" He gives you a squeeze, voice barely above a whisper. "Please"

You know that this doesn't count as a potential improvement since, again, Bakugou is the one that initiated the physical contact. But you oblige, wrapping your arms around his neck.

For several minutes, you bask in the silence, enjoying the comfort and warmth. Until Bakugou speaks again, voice partially muffled by your clothes.

"I noticed how different you are with that weir- Hatsume."

"She-" you clear your throat, trying to get rid of the ragged tone "she never pushed me away. Probably the only one that never did." you don't want to relieve the past, but with Bakugou seems right. Up until now, he showed nothing but understanding.

"There were times when I would visit her back when she was in UA. She didn't mind when I would sleep on her while she worked on her babies. One day I remember falling asleep on her back, and she didn't complain. She- she was the only one that never called me a bother."

"You didn't do anything too scared I would…" he trails, lifting a little his head just enough to see your eyes.

"Call me clingy." You finish for him. His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer.

"Even my parents pushed me away. I used to seek physical attention all the time. If it were possible, I would stay with you like this all day, but I know it's impossible. And I don't want you to think that I-… I don't want to be a burden. An inconvenience. I don't want you to hate me because of that. So I give you space. I let you initiate everything on your own terms because I'm scared of being annoying."

Bakugou listens. He knows that if he speaks you might try to make the conversation take a detour. So he waits for you to continue.

"I used to like sleepovers. I used to beg my parents to let me sleep at a friend's house. But then they told me no because I would be a bother, and that people are too nice to tell me that. Even holding hands was something I enjoyed, until someone slapped my hand away."

That detail doesn't sit right with Bakugou, and whoever slapped your hand was already on his piss-the-fuck-off list.

"Is this why you keep refusing to stay the night?" When you nod, Bakugou feels like the heaviest stone has just been lifted from his chest. When he slept with you for the first time, he asked you to stay over. It was late, and dark outside, and letting you wander the streets where danger lurked wasn't something he was keen on. Plus, it would give him more time to spend with you. But when you got up and dressed, turning down his offer saying that you were busy the next day, he walked you home.

The second time, again, you shut him down. He tried to be understanding. At the time, he couldn't understand why you refused to crash at his place when he did overstay at yours. At first, he thought you didn't like his apartment, or that you didn't feel comfortable enough. So, he bought a couple of plants, hoping that it will ease you, and stuffed his bathroom with products he saw at yours. He made sure to put hairclips and hair ties near the sink, in a pink-stained glass bowl. And different types of pads were stashed in the first drawer, just in case. He also added some décor, similar to your aesthetic, but even that didn't work. Despite your compliments, saying that you loved the changes he made, it still wasn't enough to make you stay.

Another time he tried again was three weeks ago. He tried his hardest to fuck you stupid, he hoped that six hours of constant sex will tire you out enough that you will cave, and finally spend the night at his. He tried different positions that he knew would strain your legs. Positions that will weaken your body, and time for you to recover were minimal. If he was generous, only a minute before he went at it again. Despite all his efforts, you still went home. Bruised, body screaming in pain at the effort, and on the verge of passing out, you asked him to take you home. And Bakugou, at that point, began to think that maybe you didn't love him.

He became self-conscious. Because why else wouldn't you want to spend more time with him? Why would you only have sex and then drop out as soon as you felt like sleeping?

Yet that theory wasn't exactly making sense, because the very next day you asked him to stay over at yours.

But now, Bakugou understands. He now knows what the problem is, and he has to admit that you told him way more than he originally expected. He's glad you did so, it's a step in the right direction, and he believes that improvements will happen soon.

One hand moves on the back of your head, cradling you closer while his lips ghost the skin right below your ear.

"Let's take baby steps" he murmurs, leaving a feathery kiss on the side of your neck. Your arms hook around his shoulders, leaning into him.

"Stay tonight" He feels your body tense up, and before you can utter a word -already knowing what you were going to say, he squeezes you, silently adding the 'please' that was lingering on the tip of his tongue.

When he feels your body relax in his hold, and a soft 'ok' leaves your lips, Bakugou allows himself to smile, happy with the outcome.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou imagine #bnha bakugou #mha katsuki #bnha imagines #bnha bakugō #bakugo x reader

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months

Text

Sleepless

a/n absolutely self indulgent because no joke I woke up last night from the most insane nightmare and the first thing I called out to was Simon so here's some fever dream goodness for you. ✨🫴🏼

summary: Simon comfort reader after a nightmare.

warning: nightmares lol

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It was a strange feeling to be the victim of your mind. You could go out there on the battlefield and turn it all off. You could be fearless and deadly. Many shivered when they walked by. You could turn it off. Could pull on a mask and be someone you failed to recognize. But at night, when you were back at the safety of the base and no specific tasks kept you awake, you felt so helpless that you wanted to weep.

Sure, almost everyone had nightmares. Yes, they weren't real. A mix of subconsciously selected images. But there was just something so specific about them. It was so painful, real, and raw that it had you waking up night after night with a rapidly beating heart. Or even worse, covered in sweat as you jolted up with a scream. Those nights were the hardest because you weren't able to find sleep again. Every shadow seemed to be hunting you. Every sound made you flinch as you counted the moments till sunrise.

"Sugar?", your name being called out made you blink a couple of times. Right, shit, a debrief. You quickly scanned the room. All eyes were on you. You needed to come up with something. Something that would land regardless. "We can always just try what most of the team believes is the right...", you started, "What most team believes about barbecue? Right boys, what's your thoughts on grilled sausages?" Price called out, earning a handful of chuckles. A barbecue? Had you been that out of it? This was supposed to be a debrief for the last mission...

"The only flaw was the way we entered. He wants to try to regroup". Ghost's low voice rang from beside you. "Price's wife is celebrating her birthday this weekend and wants us over for a barbecue." You turned your head toward him slightly. His arms were crossed over his chest, his head facing forward towards the team, but because of the mask, it was impossible to see him speaking. "Thank you," you muttered back, running a hand over your face. "You're sick or something?", Ghost asked once again. Maybe you were just imagining him speaking. A man never spoke that much. "Maybe you should go to the medical bay," he suggested, and you shook your head. "Nothing a couple of hours of sleep can't fix," you gave Simon a tight smile as you pulled back from the wall you two had been standing by. Just before you could fully step away from his reach, Ghost swiftly wrapped his palm around your upper arm. "You don't have to tell me, but at least talk to one of the boys. Johnny might...", but you cut him off by placing your hand over his chest, "I'm fine, Ghost, nothing happened." His eyes told you that he didn't believe a word you said but admitting that you struggled to sleep and even more so avoided sleeping because of the nightmares, no... That made you feel too childish.

But Simon wasn't stupid. He had an eye for little things. Little changes. Little energy waves, if you will. And everything about you has been screaming wrong for weeks now. You two weren't together, but he always treated you differently. Not because you were a female. No. Just because you respected his boundaries. Respected his privacy. Ghost still remembered that one night when he was enjoying his two-am tea and you stumbled into the kitchen. A long shirt was the only thing on your body. He had been in a particularly broody mood that night, so even when you asked him a couple of questions, he simply stared at you and said nothing. He was waiting for you to roll your eyes or call him an asshole. But instead, you smiled and started explaining to him how you enjoyed your instant ramen. Without realizing it, Simon found himself smiling beneath his mask. You were babbling about how Price would kill you if he saw the amount of cheese you put in your bowl. "You will not turn me in, right?", you had asked, a handful of shredded cheese in your hand. Simon had simply tilted his head to the side, and you had taken it as a yes, shoving the cheese in your mouth as you giggled.

That side of you had been long gone. Your face has grown slightly ashy. Your eyes were dull. You could barely keep up with a conversation. Yes, you still managed to perform amazingly during missions, but they chipped at the last bits of your strength, and it showed.

If Simon was being honest, he knew what this was about. Your room was next to his on the base, and the walls weren't particularly thick. So it was almost a nightly thing. He just laid there, listening to you whimper. Panting once you were lucky enough to claw yourself out of the nightmare.

He had wanted to come knocking more than once. He almost always found himself with a hand on the doorknob, but he always stopped. Because who was he to comfort someone? He wasn't a big teddy bear. No, Ghost was a man with a past just as brutal and controlling. One that also hunted him from time to time.

Just tonight, it all seemed ten times worse. Simon tried to occupy himself with a handful of paperwork and reports he had to finalize, but your bed was right by the wall where his desk was. Every turn. Every rustle of the sheets. The uneven breathing. Simon gripped his pen tighter. But then, as silent as a wind, a light, "Please," cut through the silence. Simon stared at the wall ahead of him. It was as if the words were engraved on it. Telling himself over and over that he didn't need to get involved. This wasn't his business. He didn't have the right to just walk in. That he...

Ghost pushed back, the chair scraped against the wooden floor. Three long strides, and he was out of his room. Another three to get to your door. It took him a heartbeat to press the door handle down. He wasn't prepared to see your sprawled-out form. The sheets were now mostly laying on the floor. Your scrunched-up face. Hands digging into the mattress. That broke something deep within Simon.

He moved quietly, not wanting to startle you, and just as much, hoping that you would wake up on your own. But your body twisted and turned. The skin growing clammy. It was one of the longest nightmares you had ever had. Not that he was counting, but from the nights he had heard you, this seemed one of the worst. Ghost's mind blanked as he sat on the edge of the bed. What had his mother once said? Shake to wake up, or try to gently pull someone back. No one played nice in the army. You either took it or you ate shit. But still, Simon's cracked and scared hands carefully moved to run up and down your hand.

Another cry slipped past your lips. Simon wished he could kill the person holding you hostage in your sleep. "It's okay," he muttered, trying to remember what comforting someone even felt like. The words felt strange on his lips. "Sug, wake up; it's just a dream," he muttered, pressing slightly deeper into your skin. But it was nothing. Your sweat-soaked face was now covered by stands of hair that had awkwardly stuck all over, but Simon didn't care. He had been in this same place way too many times.

"Y/N," he breathed, moving to clasp your face between his palms, stopping your movement. A breath. One. Two. Your eyes snapped open. A painful inhale pierces your lungs. Hands coming up to grasp Ghost's wrist as your nails dug into his skin. Yet in all of that, it was your frightened eyes that hurt Simon the most. Eyes that now looked so helpless. So desperate. So lost. So in need.

"Simon," you muttered as one wave of panic got overridden by another. "I mean, lieutenant," you muttered, and Ghost couldn't help but roll his eyes, "Seriously? Now of all times, you decide to call me lieutenant." You never addressed him like that. Unless you were pissed off at him and Simon highly doubted, that was the case now.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, brushing your hands through your damp hair. "Did I wake you? Fuck, I'm...", but Simon didn't seem to listen as he leaned over to unlace his boots. Your shivering frame unsettled him. And maybe it was his primal need to protect all women who had ever been in harm's way. Or maybe it was that stupid warm feeling that flared when he was next to you, but when Simon looked at you once again, he simply motioned for you to scoot over.

"What are you..." you muttered in confusion. "You are still shaking, and that looked like one fucked nightmare," Ghost said bluntly as he slowly got comfortable in your bed. You knew that he was a kindhearted person under that cold mask, but this. You were convinced you ground his gears, and now... "You don't fancy lying down?", he asked, almost in a teasing way, making you blink again. You could still feel the aftermath of your dream. Pumping through your veins.

Maybe this was a dream too. Was there a way to fall from one dream to another? But then the same flickering images of the dream you just had came flooding back. One breath . Another. Your hands instantly reached for the man lying not far from you. Were there rules? Things you shouldn't do? You didn't seem to care as you snaked your hands around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him. His warmth seeped through your skin. The rapid heart was now beating against a much steadier chest. "Simon," you muttered. And you knew that he hated it when people called out his name like that. He hated when they dug his identity to the surface, but you needed him. You needed Simon, not Ghost, not your LT.

"Right here, doll," he breathed. "Simon," you muttered once more. His hands had now matched yours; they had just found shelter against your hips. Rubbing slow circles there. "Please," you breathed out. Not sure as to what you were calling out for, but knowing real well that Simon was the realest thing in your universe now. "I've got you, ya? I'm holding you right now. Whoever chased you in your sleep won't get to you now", Ghost said firmly, "I won't let them."

You sighed again on his shoulders, holding him as tightly as you possibly could. "What do you need, Sug?", Simon asked in a much calmer tone now. "Talk to me," you muttered. "Just..."—you almost didn't know how to explain it. Your mind was still holding you hostage. You needed new images. New stories to fill your senses. Draw up new patterns. And Ghost surprisingly didn't miss a beat: "You know Johnny was trying to convince me today that microwaving water is a way of making tea." You lifted your head off Simon's shoulder, leaning back slightly to catch his gaze. "I know; I looked at him the way you are looking at me now," Ghost stated with a huff. "I told him that fuck his war crimes, his soul is going to hell for that alone," Simon added with a shake of his head, and you felt your lips tugging upwards slightly until a light chuckle slipped past them.

"I'm glad you find it funny because I saw it as a disgrace to England itself." His accent thickened, and you could almost hear the smile on his lips as he spoke. You chuckled slightly. "He is a disgrace to this team," you said with a serious look on your face, and Simon was quite the match. "I'll talk to Price in the morning. We'll send him to Neverland." Cackling, you leaned against Simon's chest; his much bigger palms quickly moved to run up and down your back.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asked after a moment of silence, but you quickly shook your head. The last thing you needed was to go back. You felt Ghost nodding slightly, "We can talk when you want," his fingers reaching up to comb your hair. "For now, you are safe. I will always keep you safe". The last word came out more like a whisper, but you still caught on to it.

"Simon," you muttered, earning a hum in return,"If you... could you stay?" You were so glad your room was only dimly lit because your cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Ghost let out a slight chuckle. "Does it look to you as if I'm about to go?", he questioned your statement in an almost self-explanatory manner, "Way too comfortable to move now, love." His arms held onto you just a bit tighter, and you didn't skip a beat to do the same. "Thank you," you said softly, knowing that this deserved way more and better words. "Say less; you know I've got you," Simon pressed a tender kiss on your hair, "Now sleep." Reaching to the side, he pulled the blanket over the two of you. "Can you play with my hair?", you said through a yawn. "Already so fucking demanding," Simon chuckled, yet his fingers threaded through your hair straight away.

#simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod x you #cod imagine #cod x reader #cod simon riley #cod simon ghost riley

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seelestia · 1 year

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— ❝𝐎𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐇, 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍!❞

SUMMARY. "oh my gosh, you're literally my dream person!" here's a list of red flags for you, honey. (inspired by a tiktok trend! the one with the soundboard, iykyk.)

CHARACTERS. wanderer, alhaitham, albedo, childe + GN!reader.

GENRE. full-on crack, some fluff, not-so serious and light-hearted character slander.

CW. has heavy refs to albedo's story / 2.3 event and wanderer's story, brief mentions of blood in childe's part (not detailed/graphic), one brief mention of kissing in wanderer's part, light cussing and terrible humor. + read the alt text on the headers for extra captions, hehe!

THOUGHTS. this is my most unserious work yet and for that, i apologize if this gets too unhinged or inaccurate at some point LMAOOO. red flags are fine, red is my fav color anyway (it's actually light purple) <33 can you guess who's the favorite here 🧍‍♂️

✰ masterlist.

[ WANDERER ]

❝Dream person, huh? That's oddly fitting because the day you win me over is only gonna happen in your dreams too.❞

Has some abandonment and mother issues. ...Yeah. These issues may result in emotional walls as strong and firm as the Great Wall of China but when you break through them, he's never ever gonna let you go (unfortunately). I'd tell you to start running but this silly guy can float and zoom in the air, so best of luck.

You'll only hear crickets if you fall asleep on his chest. On the very rare occasions where he allows you to, that is. If you're into that romantic "falling asleep on your lover's chest while listening to their heartbeat" stuff, you're not getting it with Wanderer here. But if you listen hard enough, maybe you'll get to hear termites or something because he's canonically made out of white wood. (I'm joking, I love him too.)

Terrible with feelings. He'd rather jump off a cliff than start talking about his feelings. ...Okay, fine. Harboring humane emotions is an annoyingly blurry line that he has vowed to stop caring about after regaining his memories. It doesn't mean he doesn't cringe at himself every now and then, though — knowing that he has talked about his feelings to someone else (only you and Nahida) keeps him up at night, as embarrassing as it is to admit. ("Hey, do you remember that one time when you told me—" "I don't.")

May prioritize his pride over you sometimes. Let's take a rainy day as an example. It's pouring cats and dogs which means that the risk of catching a cold is high as ever... thus, as the rain begins to soak you, you turn to your companion (whose clothes are saved by the hat on his head) with puppy eyes. His reply comes in the same speed as a lightning strike; "No," he says. Beg and cry if you want, he is not letting you under his hat because it's "not a damn parasol". Fine, maybe he just doesn't care about your well-being and that's totally fine (sarcastic) — but the very next second, as he grabs your wrist and starts dashing to a nearby inn with you in tow — you can't help but let a small smile slip. Maybe he does care? Pride just gets in the way sometimes.

Might accidentally suffocate you when you two kiss because how the heck is he supposed to remember that humans need to breathe when your lips are just so soft for no reason? Ugh, humans and their ridiculous needs (derogatory but he still loves you simp).

Has a long list of crimes and felonies that we don't talk about. Ah, yes, the courtesy of being a previous Fatui Harbinger, indeed. Irminsul may have forgotten about this list, but the Wiki sure as heck hasn't.

[ ALHAITHAM ]

❝So, you consider me someone who fits your type? I see. Unfortunately, knowing whether or not I fit into another person's ideals doesn't have much value to me.❞

Books > people. Is that really a flaw? He doesn't think it is. Books are a source of knowledge and aren't they supplements that enrich the minds of those who read them? Not to mention, there is no need to cater to whatever social standards with inanimate objects unlike when you're around people. ...But apparently, Kaveh told him that this mindset "makes him look like an absolute loner with no social skills and no friends whatsoever" to which he'd usually bite back with an "at least, I have a stable housing." TLDR: books are Alhaitham's closest friends and that's a little sad (he doesn't care about other people's opinions, though).

Unreachable when his soundproof headphones are on. Shush, he is in his official (but not-so-official) 'Do Not Disturb' mode. Sorry in advance, he may or may not accidentally ignore you when his soundproof headphones are on. If you want to have a few words with him, either be patient and wait or make sure they're of absolute importance lest you risk being given the deadliest, emptiest stare ever known to mankind. If looks could kill, you would've keeled on the spot. Instant unintentional (??) homicide, so true of him.

Awkward with small talks. Alhaitham is good at talking about topics that really matter and he very much prefers it that way too. But that's the thing; when the discussion of that particular subject ends, that's it. He often dodges the silence in a 'cool' way, though; either by taking an early leave or bringing out a book if the situation there still needs him present. (In his defense, if no one wants to start and carry the conversation, then isn't it a bit hypocritical to count on him to do that too?)

Physical affection stupefies him (it'll take time). Alhaitham doesn't hate it, no, but something about it just doesn't align much with his sense of familiarity. He usually keeps his distance; even with new acquaintances, shaking hands has never been his thing and it's been a long time since Alhaitham has had someone he feels comfortable enough to receive physical affection from or to give some of it to (his grandmother was the last, maybe). By all means, this isn't meant to be a sob story — it's just brought up to explain that physical affection is a thing he's not familiar with, so it'll take some time to get used to. Good luck to those with physical touch as a preferred love language (me), this feeble scholar who may turn into a stiff log when you hug him is in your capable hands!

[ ALBEDO ]

❝Is that a compliment of some kind? I must say it's certainly not one I hear very often, thus I feel inclined to appreciate it all the more. Thank you.❞

Has a lab located in Dragonspine. Yes, this is a red flag because look me in the eyes and tell me you would realistically travel up that death trap of a mountain every single time just to spend time with him. He comes down from the mountain at least twice or thrice a month, so you'll still get to see his pretty face regardless, just not as frequently — so, it's either you exchange letters every week or you go trekking up Dragonspine to see him yourself. (There is a better place to die on than that wretched mountain, but I digress.)

His mother caused world destruction and he has a twin brother that is out for blood (Imposterbedo). ...Seriously, what the heck is going on in this family? We need to keep an eye on them like they're fascinating wild animals on National Geographic, for real. If you don't mind crazy in-laws that might commit felonies against you (also looking intently at Alice as I say this, by the way), then you're all good to go! Aha, just watch your back and be safe out there, comrade.

Babysitting Klee comes as a 2-in-1. If you're good with kids, great! If you're not, good luck! You know what they all say; a child's curiosity is only limited by the skies (and a guardian's supervision), so be prepared for when Klee starts tugging you around to go fish blasting or exploring with her. Being with Albedo means you get to see her a lot and she's such an adorable ball of sunshine! But the way she innocently hands you a little bomb like it's a slice of Fisherman's Toast and not a weapon is certainly something to remember, huh? (At this point, this is basically an extra to my previous point about questionable in-laws.)

Eats spiders (not often, but has eaten them and that's concerning). Granted this only applies to a specific type of large spiders that can be found at the roots of Petrified Trees in Domains (in the words of the Chief Alchemist himself), but there will definitely be a time where he goes: "Are you hungry? If I remember correctly, there are still some smoked spiders left from the other day. Fortunately, the temperature here in Dragonspine aids in the preservation method—" Spiders can be cute to some and a nightmare to some, but the fact that he has a whole recipe for it really makes you want to know the how and most importantly, the why. Does he sprinkle parsley on them or some stuff like that, ayo? (at least, if you ever get stuck in a domain one unlucky day, this recipe might help you survive? thanks??)

[ CHILDE ]

❝Oh? I've never been called a dream person before. ...Heh, that sounds new, I like the sound of that!❞

Thinks combat and battles are a better substitute for oxygen. Okay, that may be somewhat of an exaggeration — but it isn't an understatement to say that the thought of challenge rushes the blood into Tartaglia's veins. Not one for the secretive schemes most Harbingers do, this man would even go charging ahead if that guarantees he'll encounter a good fight. Like seriously, if he and a fellow Harbinger are heading to a place where there is a good opponent, you bet Childe is about to speed there first. You could say he is speeding towards uncertain death, essentially.

Might have come home with blood on his cheek once or twice. And what's worse is that this guy probably doesn't even realize it's there. Sorry, he was just too caught up in the moment to properly notice any leftover 'trophies' from his previous fights... Aha, don't worry about it! ("I'm home!" Tartaglia cheers loudly as he, quite literally, throws open the front door to your shared home — only to be greeted by that dumbfounded look on face. "Please tell me that's just juice on your cheek," you frown. He scratches the side of his neck awkwardly, "Uhh. Things didn't go particularly well when I was collecting debts.")

A warrior in the streets, also a malewife who can make you treats. Why does he have that double side for, huh? For other people to swoon over and fall for? No way someone can be a househusband and a good fighter simultaneously. What do you mean he can cook and clean then beat up anyone who threatened you the next? And you're saying he is genuine about it too? I say deception, deception, deception! Sue this fellow for fraud this instant. (This might actually be a green flag in disguise, but you didn't hear that from me.)

No good with saving money. He's stinky rich and most of it might be from the Fatui. You have to wonder whether each Mora he gives goes on the Fatui's tab or something like that... You don't find the idea of owing something to the Fatui fun, but it's so ironic how you're more worried about this than the Eleventh Harbinger is. Welp, at least, you don't have to worry incessantly about saving money now...? ("There's that thing you said you wanted to buy the other day, right? Here you go, honey!" "Tartaglia, why is this Mora pouch heavier than a toddler—")

Has a long list of crimes and felonies that we don't talk about #2. You could definitely argue that Childe might have the least mind-boggling list of crimes amongst the Harbingers all, though. (And does he slay for that? Who knows.)

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @hcikazu @tsuk4sa-yug1 @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @daisydkj @omgscaramouche @coquettemaiden @lemontum @herdrops @lleoll @xiaosonlybeloved @chiisananingen @irethepotato @ainescribe @blooodyvampy @starlightaura @jihyuniepark @duhsies @maybemiko @lordbugs — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged (check your settings!) + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #alhaitham x reader #albedo x reader #childe x reader #genshin crack #genshin fluff #genshin hcs #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #seelestial.inks

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

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Three-headed dragon (Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader)

Summary: Three times Rhaenyra marked you, and one time you did too. Or snippets of the love story I so wanted to tell but didn’t feel confident enough to write.

Warnings: Implied smut. Dance of the dragons. Canon character death (Not Rhaenyra)

Rquested: Yes!

A/N: I have not read the books, and I have only gotten one hickey in my life. I hope my ability to describe it's alright. Ignore the bra and the hegemonic body in the first picture, it's for the vibes.

“How many years have you spent by my side?” Rhaenyra asks, as you fix her hair in the mirror. It’s an important day, even if none of you know it at the time. It’s early. Her husband is off somewhere, no longer sleeping in the same bed as her. She is too pregnant, she jokes. You doubt it. You have long wondered what her relationship with Prince Daemon is. Are they star crossed lovers, who finally get their happy ending? Are they Uncle and Niece, married out of political convenience? You can’t tell.

You know which one you prefer, though. It must be kept secret, this deep-seated, long-lasting admiration for your Princess. You have been through it all, together. Youth, marriages, motherhood, widowhood. Ruining it now, with your feelings, would be foolish.

“Since we were sixteen.” You place different ribbons over her hair, testing, draping. It’s not your job, technically. You are a noblewoman in your own right, not supposed to be here on Dragonstone, but back in the North, where your long deceased husband’s bones rest.

Not meant for marriage, and ready to start your career as a Septa, you had found yourself as a companion to a much younger Rhaenyra. She had secured, in an admirable move, a marriage by proxy with some old lord. You had not even managed to reach the North when he had passed, leaving you as the sole heir to a small castle close to the Boltons.

With such undesirable neighbors, and the news that your Lord Husband was dead, you had decided to come back into Rhaenyra’s service. Her companion through childhood, now by her side during the trials of adulthood.

“Sixteen. Such a long time.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “Served loyally and never asking for anything in return.”

“Only your friendship.” Your love, you wanted to scream. Your love, for you to see me, since I am still here and I want you. Don’t you see how much it has hurt me, when I am yours, yours, and you were Criston’s, then- -

But you say nothing of the sort. Not wanting to ever risk what you had. Love is selfless, you remind yourself. You can’t have her, nor can you own her. Rhaenyra is the Seven Kingdoms, Aegon’s Crown. You cannot hope to own her or rule her. The Iron Throne, as everyone knows, was not made for a woman.

“You are not my friend,” Rhaenyra says, and the shock must show on your face because she laughs. Silver bells filling the room, the laughter of a golden Princess. “You are family, by this point. Haven’t you cared for the boys as if they were yours?”

And it’s true. You have loved those children because they are half her. You have been the preferred aunt, the accomplice, and the one to teach them things as important as the proper way to hold a quill. As the saying goes, it takes a village. The children are your combined efforts, alongside hers, Daemon’s and Harwin’s.

“You are as much a mother to them as I am.” Yours. Rhaenyra is saying the boys are as much hers as they are yours. “I have been thinking.”

You are so grateful for it, you could cry. But that’s not why Rhaenyra likes you.

“Oh? You are capable of it? We must inform the Maesters.”

Rhaenyra laughs.

“More respect for your future Queen.” She tries putting on a scolding expression, but is unable to keep her face straight.

“Oh, your majesty! I never meant to offend?” You give her a mock curtsy, and she giggles a bit more. You love her like this, you have come to realize. Rhaenyra is a woman of many flaws, even as a mother. She has grown into something larger than life, a presence that commands rooms yet manages to remain full of love to give.

“Stop it, you,” Rhaenyra complains. “I’m trying to do something here. Have a gesture.”

You sober up, a smile still tugging at your lips.

“I was thinking perhaps you should start wearing my house colors. And before you say anything, I mean it as an order. I already had you made three new gowns.”

You open and close your mouth a few times.

“Dragon got your tongue?” She teases, cradling her belly.

“Rhaenyra… I… Too much?” Because you are not sure what she is saying, but definitely she is not calling you sister. She would say it plainly, your Rhaenyra. That she is telling you to wear her house colors… That’s what men do. To their wives.

“It’s what you deserve.”

She is informed of her father’s death that day. The only person she allows in the room with her, as she loses baby Visenya, is you. From woman to woman. No one else gets to glimpse the fragile human who lives inside the dragon, not even Daemon.

You declare war dressed in black and red.

The Black Council is filled with fools, despite the support they show to Rhaenyra. You know it. She knows it. That’s why it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when you go to step inside the war room, and a guard bars the entrance with his lance. You have been expecting this moment. Dreading it, even. It was bound to happen.

“I am sorry, my Lady, but you are not allowed inside. Orders of the Prince consort.” Of course. Of course it's Daemon. Despite expecting it, you can’t help but be surprised at his boldness.

You don’t wish to make a scene. You truly don’t. But it scares you more than you thought it would. First, you will be banned from rooms. Then, dismissed, if not outright executed. This day had to come, you knew. Everyone had family on the other side of the war, with all the noble houses having intermarried at least once.

In the years to come, the conflict will be known as one that teared brother from brother. You don’t know this, you will not live to see it. Yet, it rattles in your bones.

“What? Prince Daemon?” You ask a little too loud. It attracts the attention of some other people in the hallway, including Rhaenyra who is just arriving. She looks more regal than ever in a black gown that compliments her pale skin.

Whispers start to break out among the gathered, surely reminding your heritage. Everyone is waiting to enter the war room, and the lance the guard has extended across the doorway is certainly drawing attention.

“What’s going on here?” Rhaenyra asks, placing a hand on your lower back and eyeing the guard with suspicion. The man lowers his head.

“My Queen, Prince Daemon has said…” He starts to explain, but Rhaenyra silences him with a dismissive wave of the hand. Ashamed, you lower your eyes.

“I do not care what he has said.”

“He has prohibited the Lady from entering…” The guard argues. Next to you, Rhaenyra tenses. You know he has already angered her, daring to speak above her like that.

“Is Prince Daemon King? Does he wear the crown?” She asks him, fiercely. The guard, wisely, keeps quiet. “She is my right hand. I will not suffer to see her disrespected.”

And with that, Rhaenyra moves the lance aside with a brush of her hand, leading you inside by the small of your back.

At the table, Daemon stands, moving some pieces along the map of Westeros. His back is to you, but he turns as he hears the commotion that precedes your arrival. A smug little smirk is on his lips, as he sees your discomfort.

“What are you…?” Daemon says, when he processes that you are, in fact, inside the room he had banned you from. Then, he notices Rhaenyra. “Ah.”

He squares his shoulders, getting ready for a fight. You try to pull away from Rhaenyra, but the hand on your back turns into claws, grasping at your dress to keep you right where you are.

“Why did you order the guards to not let her inside?” Rhaenyra speaks in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Daemon has to answer her or else. It’s a tone you had heard frequently when she tries to reign her sons in.

“Because I thought she didn’t belong in the war room, my Queen.” Daemon saunters towards you, no doubt trying to intimidate you. You lift your chin defiantly. Usually, you two avoid each other’s path. He resents your position in Rhaenyra's life, as her most trusted council. You resent that he gets to share her bed.

“You gave a ridiculous order.” Rhaenyra argues, rubbing your lower back in soothing circles, as if you were a spooked horse.

“Not so ridiculous. We have known for a long time there is a spy. Why should it not be your pet?”

“I am not! You truly think I would do something as vile?” Desperate and feeling powerless, you turn towards Rhaenyra. For a second, you truly think she might believe him. It’s the scariest second of your life. Losing her in a trap set up by Daemon? You hope she can see how genuine the next words you speak are. “I would never endanger the children, never endanger you!”

“I know.” Rhaenyra says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I know.”

“Come on. Her family is as green as they come.” Daemon raises his hands in the air, as if asking for patience to the Seven Heavens.

“My family is here.” You say, firmly. “Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Viserys, Aegon…”

“So you say. But they are not your family, are they?” It feels as if Daemon has burned you. Nothing has hurt you more. Not even the accusations about you being a spy, or the time you thought you would have to leave Rhaenyra to marry some Lord in the North.

You have spent all your life next to her. All your best years. Now, you are an old spinster, despite being barely thirty. You have always wanted children, like any noble lady in Westeros. It was too late for it now. No lord would want a widow past her prime.

Yet, you have always thought that the void the lack of children of your own had left could be filled by Rhaenyra’s boys. Secretly, you thought yourself a mother already. What else could you be, when your name had been Jace’s first word? When you were the one holding Luke’s hands as he learned to walk?

Daemon wasn’t saying it openly, but it was clear that was what he meant. Rhaenyra’s children were not yours. As they had not been Harwin’s.

“They are!” Rhaenyra insists, but you are barely hearing it. The thought of it has left you too distraught to care about whatever you are discussing. It feels as if your heart is being carved out of your chest. Were Daemon about to suggest executing you for treason, you doubt you would worry. How could you, when it feels as if he has gutted you already? “We are. She is family. And I will hear no more of this matter.”

Her hand curves possessively around your waist. A claim, for everyone to see. You lean into her, shell shocked by it all.

But Daemon isn’t about to let this go. He pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket, one you recognize too well. You slump in defeat, despite Rhaenyra’s hands urging you to stay upright.

Daemon clears his throat, dramatically.

“And I fear your time with the Princess.” He stresses the last word, making a long pause. You close your eyes, and keep them closed tight. “Has come to an end. I urge you to come back to the Stormlands, where no harm shall befall you. For King Aegon is the most merciful when the misguided sheep comes back to the herd.” Daemon crumples the paper, and throws it to the floor. You wince. “Nothing to say?”

You shake your head.

“Daemon…” Rhaenyra warns, arm around your waist turning into a vice-like grip. You do not understand it, then. It will be a long time before you do.

“Did or did not your father write that?” He whispers, dangerously.

“He did.” You answer, in a voice so small it’s nearly inaudible. Daemon slams his hand on the table, making you jump, and struts out of the room.

You start to sob, quietly. This is it. Rhaenyra is going to dismiss you from her service. It’s true that your father has been urging you to come back home, stating that you would be protected. Begging you, even. Promising all sorts of things, from freedom, to riches, to a husband, to becoming the wife of a Prince. That’s his level of desperation.

It’s unlike him, to worry so much. But you know part of it is not just fatherly affection and genuine concern for your well-being. No. Taking you from Rhaenyra’s side would be the greatest hit the Blacks could take. Lately, you are one of the few things keeping the Queen calm and tethered to reality. You love her, but ever since Luke passed, Rhaenyra has turned almost unrecognizable. She is paranoid and harsh in ways you had never seen before. Crueler. More Targaryen than usual.

And not only that. You hold an unusual amount of information inside your head. Battle plans, supply chains, locations. Everything that has been the key to the Black’s success so far, you know. The information is too valuable to pass on. If you were to turn to the Greens, you would have to share it, be it voluntarily or forcibly. You are not foolish enough to not know it.

“Breathe, darling.” Rhaenyra cradles your face between her hands. “It's alright. I know you would never betray me. Breathe.” She exaggerates her breathing, placing your hand on her chest. It’s only then you realize you have started to hyperventilate. She pulls you into her, hugging you. On the doorstep, Daemon watches.

You don’t know what has gotten into her. Never has she touched you like this. It’s not the first time you kissed. You had both been sixteen and curious, once. But it had not gone further than learning how to kiss another person without it being gross. Because that was what friends were for. Obviously.

She smells like soot and blood. It’s clear she has rushed to your side, not even taking time to change after the battle. You wonder who she killed, this time. What city has she burned, how many of the small folk she and Daemon have doomed?

“I thought… When they said there were revolts on the road….” And her mouth is yours, and you can’t think because you want her so bad you aren't concerned about the consequences. Half the Kingdom is against you, already. You are considered traitors on one side, she is the Queen on the other. What does it matter, really, that it’s called a sin? You will die anyway.

“You are mine. Please. Say it to me, love.” Rhaenyra pleads, kissing your jaw. She looks so gorgeous in armor, you feel like you might die any time you glance her way. And now, you get to have her. It’s intoxicating, having all that power at your fingertips. A goddess come to life, set on claiming you, you and only you.

“I am yours.” You say, kissing her brow. You won’t question it. Not when you are so close to getting your darkest fantasies come true. “I have always been.”

“Mine.” Rhaenyra kisses the hollow of your throat. “You are mine.”

She grabs your hand, pulling you towards a chair. The room you are in is not yours, nor hers. Neither of you care, too desperate for each other. Rhaenyra doesn’t care that her blood soaked armor is staining someone’s chair. You don’t care that your dress is getting thrown around someone's room. Just in your chemise, she pulls you into her lap.

It will have to be burned, after this. There is no way you will be able to salvage the white cotton shift after straddling her lap. The blood sticks the two of you together, but you are too joyous to care.

“I love you.” You say to her, as she bites down on the column of your throat, harshly. Still a little bloodthirsty.

A beat of silence. Have you ruined things before they truly began?

“I love you too.” Rhaenyra says, as she kisses your collarbones. “I love you, and you are mine.”

“All yours.” You answer, breathlessly. Purple flowers blooming across your collarbones, a red angry rose right by your ear. Her bloodstained hands leaving marks upon your arms.

“Yours, yours, yours.” You moan as someone clinging to a lifeline.

“All mine, all mine, all mine.” She answers back.

A bite where your shoulder meets your neck. It’s painful, stinging, your vision blurring into soft flashes of orange and red.

“Just take it for me, please. Please, sweet girl.” Rhaenyra sucks another bruise on your skin. Deep lilac that will bloom into soft green. “I need this. I need them to know you are mine, even if we can’t tell them.”

You pant. There is a certain pleasure to it, being kissed with the barest hint of teeth. But it’s more than just the kisses, what has you panting in arousal. It’s the way she treats your body as her own personal canvas. As if you were a precious artwork Rhaenyra is bringing to life with her kisses.

A maroon chrysanthemum, just over your collarbones. Front and center, the bruise blooms. Her hand, holding your jaw still for the softest torture.

You are uncertain if she is doing it out of fear, trying to make sure you are still there. If she is a bit sadistic, in the way Targaryens are. Or if this is simple, raw reassurance that you are willing to do anything she asks. You save the wondering for later, though. At the moment, you are too busy breaking down under the talented mouth of your Princess.

You don’t want to be separated from her. You know, you know, that something bad is about to happen. Some nights, you wake up, choked up in a bad feeling. You barely recognize her anymore.

Luke’s death had devastated everyone. You thought, after that, never again would you know such pain. You were mistaken. In the months to come, it was as if the children were falling as flies. Everywhere you looked. Jace, Joffrey, Viserys. And through it all, you had been by her side.

Rhaenyra has transformed into something that’s equally beautiful and terrifying. Far more determined and possessive, love harsher and unwilling to let go. Desperation does funny things to women.

As children, your love had been more pure. Untainted but also untested. Your innocence had been lost long ago. But a love that was not pure didn’t mean a love that meant less. it just meant it had grown and changed, as things often did.

Rhaenyra’s heart was not what it used to be when you two were younger. No longer filled with dreams of cake and laughter. But you weren’t the same girl, either.

Before, you had felt the urge to mark her and settled for being marked instead. You had told yourself you were not allowed to have her, that she was Laenor’s, Harwin’s, Daemon’s. And each and each time, you pulled back, curling into yourself. No more. It was not enough, to be hers. No. It was not enough to be owned. You had so little now, you wanted everyone to know she was yours as you were hers.

“Rhaenyra.” You ask her, as she pushes you down to your knees, tossing and turning in the sheets. “Rhaenyra.” As your teeth bruise her thighs, as you bring her over the edge over and over again.

“Darling. Love. Come here.” And you want to sob because it’s not enough. You want her to be yours. You want her to be yours, so you can drag her and the kids away from this madness, far away to a land where the war won’t touch you. Where there is no Iron Throne to destroy the family you have built little by little.

She will never go. Not even after all the boys die. Not even after Daemon is dead, in an incident that’s half an attempt to escape her, half a suicide mission. You have no other choice but to remain by her side, too far in to do otherwise.

Leaving is giving up. Leaving is losing. Leaving is renouncing the Iron Throne, her birthright. She will never go. Rhaenyra would rather tear the realm apart than save herself, and it terrifies you.

What terrifies you more is the fact that despite all the grief, all the pain, you do not regret loving her. You just regret not loving her in the way she deserves, in the way she has been asking for. The clothes, the hands, the bruises. Only now do you realize Rhaenyra has been trying to mark you, claim you. And it’s like you two are finally speaking the same language.

“Promise me.” You whisper against her hair, as you lay in bed together. “Promise you will never take this off.” And you are slipping her a silly thing, a medal of the Mother you always carry with you for protection. It’s not exactly your house’s jewelry, or your cloak, as a man would give to a wife.

Rhaenyra laughs. She finds your devotion to the Faith of the Seven silly. But she gets it, anyway. She puts the medal on, close to her heart.

You loved her differently now. No longer your silver Princess, your childhood companion. In your chest, curling around your heart, a dark possessive thread rests, tying you to her. Finally, you meet her in the middle.

Rhaenyra has always loved you like certain things are meant to be loved. In secrecy. In the dark. Not of her own will, but yours. Rhaenyra didn’t care what others thought. She had been so bold before, trying to get you to step in the light for once. You had not realized it at the time, you had not been ready. You had worried too much.

And now, with no time to worry left, with death threatening your doorstep, you realize exactly what you were missing out on. Every time she walks away, chain glistening between her breasts, you get a secret thrill. She is yours. You know it. It’s your mark Rhaenyra wears close to her heart.

#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x oc #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra x fem!reader #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #rhaenyra targaryen smut #rhaenyra smut #rhaenyra #rhaenyra targeryan #rhaenyra the cruel #queen rhaenyra

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thedemonknownasbilly · 4 months

Note

Awesome!

If you're willing, could I request headcanons for Aziraphale x Crowley x gender neutral reader where reader is chubby and insecure about their appearance?

Oh, Darling - HC for Ineffable Husbands with Chubby!Reader

Absolutely! Sorry for the delay, it was around midnight for me when I replied to the first anon, and I was just knocked out right after!

Ineffable Husbands x GN!Reader

Any and all pet names/compliments are meant as GN!

Mentions ED/Skipping meals (that’s more of a personal touch on my end as someone who is a bit curvier than average)

So let’s cover how they treat you separately, since as much as they try to be, they aren’t always attached at the hip.

Crowley

To be honest it took him a minute to even notice, ethereal (occult) beings don’t typically fuss or pay attention to “human flaws”

You guys would have met at the park bench, he was waiting for Aziraphale, and his was the only bench with a spot open.

“Could I sit here?”

“Hm?” He’d look up from his newspaper and will any blush on his cheeks to discorporate “yeah, yeah, he’s running late so I’m sure I’ll be leaving soon.”

You’d start talking to the ducks, and he was a goner, slowly joining in your conversation and just having a grand time with you.

When Aziraphale finally showed up, Crowley left you his number and told you to text him the next time you wanted to talk about anything.

He gushed about you and your knowledge of ducks to Aziraphale, who teased his husband over this crush.

After a good thousand texts, a few hang outs, and Aziraphale’s okay after a lengthy conversation, Crowley asked you out, and ofc you said yes.

He absolutely adores your curves, never seeing them as a flaw.

Won’t stand for any blasphemy you might have to say against it.

He will happily curl himself around you, slender fingers on your hips as he adorns you in kisses.

He notices some days you’ll shy away from his touch, and he never wants you uncomfortable.

But one day you had shied away all day, (he always kept track) he’d even say you were almost flinching from his touch.

This worried him, every situation he conjured in his head was that he had upset you or maybe that you didn’t even love him anymore.

So it certainly made you have to repress a sad giggle when you saw those sad yellow eyes look up at you as he asked, “is there another?”

“Never in a million years, my darling.” And with that he relaxed and sat beside you, noticing how you pressed yourself to the side of the couch.

“Then what’s with this, why won’t you let me touch you..?” He was always big on boundaries and respect, but usually he was given a sort of heads up, not just thrusted into a new rule.

“It’s silly…”

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

You’d go on to explain everything, how you’d always been the bigger kid, how the curves and rolls of your body often were topics of things your exes hated about you. The bullying, the lack of food, the unaffordable research on surgery even. “But even then, I’m scared you’ll realize I’m not worth the pain that a human comes with if I’m not attractive enough.”

Crowley listened intently, he always would, but he couldn’t deny that he hated what he was hearing. “Let me touch you, please.”

And when you shyly nodded, his hands were on your thighs as he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours.

“I don’t give two fucks about human beauty. You’re perfect for me.” He’d growl out as he moved to kiss down your jaw and neck, pressing his lips to every stretch of skin he could reach. “Think I give a fuck? Really? Ask Aziraphale how much we go to the Ritz, think to every time I’ve asked you. At first I figured it wasn’t your cup of tea. Not that you were treating yourself so downright wrong.”

You couldn’t help to giggle at that, and he looked up at you. “I would really like to go to lunch with you, and if it helps, we can invite the angel.”

Having Aziraphale there did help, he was enjoying his food without a care in the world for any leering eyes, and you did the same, blushing as your boyfriend adored you and his husband.

He was always there, especially now that he knew, always behind you when you stood too long in the mirror, hands on your hips as he’d whisper praises and compliments into your ear, making you repeat a few on the worst days.

Aziraphale

Once again, Aziraphale would hardly count it as the first thing he noticed. He certainly wasn’t the most slender figure himself even by human standards.

You two would meet at Maggie’s Record Shop. He was there to pick up something new and you were browsing for your favorite CDs to be on record.

He was thrilled to see Maggie have a customer and swore than if he had put a heart into his form that it would be pounding out of his chest.

He’d hurry to the Record Shop every time he saw you in the windows, finally after four run-ins, you introduced yourself to him.

You would be the only person regularly allowed into the bookshop.

Crowley had met you numerous times since, and he even encouraged his angel to ask you out. So Aziraphale finally did.

He soon found his favorite spot was to have his head on your lap, your fingers scratching against his scalp as you two would listen to whatever he’d put on the record.

He noticed one day though when you seemed to be fidgeting before he laid down, and it took him a moment to realize you were trying to make yourself look smaller.

“My darling, what are you doing?” He asked carefully, sitting beside you and placing a hand on your thigh.

Something about such a simple question and gesture made you break down, explaining how you wanted to be perfect, that you wished you looked more like Crowley did so that these treacherous thoughts would leave your mind.

Aziraphale was concerned, feeling a twist in his stomach as he carefully pulled you onto his lap, a position you tried to protest, but when he whispered out a “for me, please,” you couldn’t say no.

“My darling, having one of Crowley is more than enough. I’m quite happy to have you as you are, wouldn’t dream of asking you to change in any way.”

He’d listen to every thought you had, giving you all of his attention as his thumbs trace circles on your thighs and hips, and when you were done, he’d counter every argument with his own, explaining gently that he had truly never paid much attention to your own weight, that it was your soul and personality he adored.

“But you are quite gorgeous, I found myself aching to see you everyday before I got to know you. I’d sit right here at my desk, and wait, hoping you’d come back.” He would cup your face as he said that, “I’m not perfect by human standards either, I chose this form, why on earth would I make you change when certainly I could be in a better body for you as well.”

He always watched out for signs of those thoughts creeping back in, but everyday, he’d end it by kissing you everywhere before bed, murmuring praises and compliments against your skin like a prayer.

Ineffable Husbands

You had ventured into the bookshop on a rainy day, noticing a red and black snake perched on a sweater in the warmest spot he could be in.

“Aren’t you adorable?” You’d coo, looking around for anyone to ask before whispering to the snake, “can I pet you?”

At that the snake opened one yellow eye, looked you up and down and nodded, very human like you thought, but you carefully rested a finger against his head, between his eyes, and stroked down his body, watching as the snake seemed perfectly happy with such actions and melted back into the sweater.

Soon the owner emerged from the back, “oh I do apologize, I was fetching some lanterns incase we lost power.” He said, Aziraphale you’d learn his name was, he certainly had a small look of shock on his face when he saw Crowley allowing you to stroke him.

“So,” Aziraphale talked to the snake when you had left hours later, “I take it someone likes them?”

“Me?” Crowley slithered onto the floor and changed forms, “what about you excitedly prattling on and showing them every book of every topic they mentioned. You even let them take one home.”

“They’re bringing it back!” Aziraphale chuckled in an effort of protest.

“Oh, sweet love of mine, I think we both fancy them.” // “Indeed it seems we both do, I hope they spend more time with us soon.”

Months later, you had learned that Crowley was the snake from that day, not being horrified but instead it made you reach up without thinking and gently stroke his hair, if demons could actually melt he was certain he’d be a puddle on the floor of the bookshop, Aziraphale had gone to fetch you a new book, and Crowley trapped you onto the couch, seemingly having no joints as he curled himself around you as best he could; his head on your shoulder.

“Crowley, dear, can’t hog them to yourself now.” And Aziraphale sat beside you, hand on your waist (under Crowley) and a head on your shoulder. “I think it’s fair that we say, well, we like you. The both of us.”

You giggled at the obvious statement and turned to kiss him as his answer, hearing Crowley whine and giving him a kiss right after.

Within the next two months, you had also moved into the flat above the bookshop, which made it easier for your two loves to see just how much you seemed uncomfortable with yourself.

“When’s the last time they ate?” Crowley murmured one day, swearing that he hadn’t seen you eat all day, or the day before.

“A while, I’m worried.” With that, they both searched for you, not expecting to find you curled up under the blankets with tear stains on your cheeks.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” The with sit on the edge of the bed, Aziraphale’s hand stroking your hair and Crowley’s rubbing your back.

“Got in my head…” you’d murmur, striking concern within them as they soon encouraged you to lay in the middle of the bed, Aziraphale to your front and Crowley to your back.

Crowley’s hand never leaving your hips as he pressed kisses to you, “don’t hide from me,” he’d say when he felt you trying to will your body further into the bed. And when Aziraphale finally asked what was wrong, you told them everything from childhood, to today, “I just want to be attractive enough for an angel and a demon, like those other ones are.”

“My dear,” Aziraphale said rather seriously, “you are more than attractive enough, haven’t we shown that?” Crowley still pressing kisses made your mind seem fuzzy with bliss as Aziraphale kissed your lips, seemingly trying to pour every ounce of his adoration into it.

They would spent hours telling you about every part of you they loved, leaving no room for any insecurities, mentally or physically.

“I quite like you at this size, more for me to hold, just like with ‘Ziraphale.”

“And besides, while you may be human, we aren’t, I assure you, Crowley could pick us both up and not break a sweat.”

They’d take turns whenever an insecurity seemed to pop back up on bad days, whichever notice would help you for hours, making sure you never felt less than with them.

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3hks · 4 months

Text

Types of Protagonists

Merry Christmas, everyone! For this special day, I decided to release a hopefully more interesting and helpful post! As always, I made up MOST of the names to get the general idea across. (The internet is only so helpful and only so specific.) But having said that, here are some different types of main characters!The Hero - We all grew up with this one, this character's whole goal is just to be able to make a positive impact on the world. They're often caring, sometimes unnecessarily so, kind, and determined!

>>> The Antihero - An antihero is a character whose actions are morally wrong, as they seem like they'd be villains in any other story. However, they do everything with a positive purpose and motive in mind! Lastly, this character is usually more ruthless and apathetic towards others than the common person.

>>> The Villain - Were you surprised? Yes, a villain can absolutely be the main character of the story! They're simply the antagonist, but with the story based on their point of view. Despite that, don't get this mixed up with an antihero! A stereotypical villain really doesn't have much good behind their motives.

>>> The Average One - This character is meant to connect with the readers. They aren't anything special and don't stick out in any particular way, as their emotions and responses are meant to be relatable to the majority of the audience. They may have a couple of exceptional traits, but those are typically supernatural and don't interfere with their personality!

>>> The Cold Calculator - This is one of the more specific types that I couldn't research explicitly about online. The Cold Calculator is a character type that is, well, cold and calculating! They have an impressively high amount of intelligence, which they use to achieve their objectives. Additionally, they are able to manipulate people, yet there's a lack of empathy for them. They are self-centered and focus only on their goals, disregarding those around them. Normally, this character isn't meant to stick out too much from the crowd, but naturally, there can be exceptions!

>>> The Hidden Genius - To be honest, I don't see much of this character type in American novels, but I think that they could really use some! The Hidden Genius is usually found in fantasy-oriented stories, where they have an extraordinary ability, but hide it for private reasons. This could be because it's dangerous, they lack control over it, it's peculiar, it requires specific settings, they're unaware of their ability, or that they simply don't want anyone realizing the power they have!

>>> The Changed One - This is a protagonist who's actively trying to change themselves from who they previously were! They're trying to escape their previous life and connections because they realize that what they were doing was, well, wrong. (Example: a thief abandoning his job to simply become a normal citizen, or a socially awkward student trying to overcome their anxiousness.) Still, their history does have an impact on them and affects them as a person! Honestly, it doesn't have to be a major change either, the point is that a character is just trying to alter themselves for the better!

>>> The Second Best - This character is incredibly impressive at something--very well above average--but there's another character who's simply better and tops them. The second character is normally some kind of rival for the protagonist to overcome. The two's relationship is typically rather complex, as it's often composed of learning, growth, competitiveness, and acceptance! This character is usually found in a school setting, revolving around academics or sports, but it's definitely not limited to that!

>>> The Almost Perfect Character - When introduced, this protagonist is seemingly perfect in all aspects of their life (at least in the eyes of others). However, as the story continues, little flaws are revealed and the readers are now aware of the underlying depth of this protagonist's life. Throughout the character's journey, they overcome their doubts, accept themselves for who they are, and learn to appreciate their imperfections!

>>> The Not-So-Gifted One - This character is pretty much summed up by the name: they're not very talented and lacking in several different, important skills. They are below average compared to other people their age, and struggle to meet expectations. Their story is typically about self-improvement, change, and acceptance!

Whew! That's ten different types of protagonists that can definitely be used in your works! I hope that these serve as inspiration and some kind of guide to those struggling to come up with an original main character! Thank you so much for those who bothered to read this unnecessarily long post, and happy holidays!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

#writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #writing advice #writing inspo #creative writing #protagonists #types of protagonists #types of main characters

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earphonejackx · 7 months

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AN: I’m back!! I decided to make more makima fics cuz I’m crazy for soft makima :p this is a part 2 to part 1

⊂⊃ Soft! Makima x f!reader

⊂⊃ WARNING- slight manipulation, possessiveness

⊂⊃ Makima is an absolute baby when it comes down to you treating her as her lover more often, she likes to be babied by you! but somewhat likes to keep control

⊂⊃ When Makima finally starts warming up to you more she tells you more about her past. This is a completely new vulnerability she has showed you and she would like it if you’d do the same

⊂⊃ Makima has picked up a new hobby for watching movies every Friday night with you. After work she’d be right at your door ready to spend the rest of her night with you. “[name] what movie shall we watch tonight? I have so many recommendations.”

⊂⊃ Makima loves going grocery shopping with you! She loves helping you pick foods for you and her to cook. She likes having organized foods in her kitchen so it’s very interesting to see her picks of food

⊂⊃ Makima hates TV dinners. I’ve fucking said it, she refuses to eat anything that even looks close to sloppy food. When she first saw you eating a TV dinner for lunch she was upset “[name] you have very interesting picks of food for lunch, not very pleasing.” She definitely stopped letting you eat those T.T

⊂⊃ NOW obviously I like to make my girl Makima have some flaws so here we go.

⊂⊃ Makima still at times tries to control you or the people around you, unfortunately this is something you’ll have to get used to. She is a control devil, her main purpose is to control so she doesn’t really care if you like it or not that’s just how she’ll always be. You’ve learned to accept it overtime but obviously you occasionally need to have talks with her about it

⊂⊃ Makima doesn’t get social ques sometimes so she’ll be a little off put to some people or even you at times but that’s just how she is

⊂⊃ Makima has a very hard time expressing her feelings outloud so at times it feels like she doesn’t even love you

⊂⊃ This lady has definitely tried treating you like a dog once☠️ but she sometimes does it to fuck around with you or toy with you. It does calm down overtime tho

⊂⊃ Please expect Makima to go days without texting you sometimes, sometimes she’ll forget she even has a phone and leaves you worried sick!

(You) Maki are you okay I wanted to check up on you? | Today 6:40

(Maki) yes. | Today 12:00

Next day—

(You) good morning makima! Hru?? | Today 8:30

(You) Maki you wanna go to the store with me today?? | Today 4:00

(You) Maki wanna do movie night?? I have your favorite movie~~ :3 | Today 7:01

3 days later —-

(Maki) ah sorry [name] I just forgot I had a phone. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. | Today 5:00

(You) seen…

(Maki) [Name?] | Today 5:07

(You) BLOCKED

⊂⊃ After you blocked Makima she tried to make it up with you with a movie night. She tried apologizing (which she’s very bad at.) and she said sorry once. maybe you could forgive her?

⊂⊃ Makima definitely starts to get possessive with you overtime. She wants you. She needs you. So please let her have you. You definitely have to stop her sometimes but it’s fun seeing her get greedy for something that’s hers “What? What do you mean possessive? Me what? No.” She still denies it.

⊂⊃ There are times where Makima wants to prove that she isn’t just some control freak. She wants you to trust her and love her. She wants you

⊂⊃ Makima definitely likes to keep you away from her work life. But if you work with her I’d be no secret if she immediately switched your division or lowered you down to safer missions with easy pay

#earphonejackx #x reader #soft icons #x y/n #chainsaw man #csm x reader #headcanon #chainsaw man x reader #tw possessive behavior #tw manipulation #makima csm #makima x reader #makima smut #makima #makima is hot

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

Don't Speak 22

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: So Tuesday was a mess.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Dr. Kemp leans forward, elbows on his knees as he watches you. Patient, intent, he listens without distraction to every word you say. His attention is almost eerie but only because you’re not used to it. He hangs off of every word.

“I don’t hate Amber,” you frown and hug your legs, only then realising how small you’ve made yourself in the chair, “I love her… I just don’t know if she ever loved me.”

He nods and sits up, dragging his fingers down his chin as he props an elbow on the armrest. He presses his finger against his mouth as he hums thoughtfully. He drops his hand and smiles.

“Are you worried about if she loves you or… are you afraid that you don’t deserve her love? Or anyone’s?” He prompts gently.

You bit down on your tongue. You lower your chin as you think. Your heart plummets deep as your skin tingles hotly.

“Both,” you admit.

“It’s like I said, sweetheart, you have to love yourself first. Then you will see how others can love you,” he drapes one leg over the other, “but we should unpack your relationship with your sister a bit further. We can’t do all that today, but we can start.”

You nod and cup your chin. You make yourself sit up and look at him. You push your feet over the edge and straighten your back.

“Codependency. It’s very toxic. Amber has her flaws, as we all do. What you’ve pointed out about her isn’t out of the question but I don’t know her, I can’t diagnose her. But I can help you draw boundaries and make sense of things,” he explains, “you feel that you were a burden, that you were entirely helpless without her. Did you ever consider she felt the same way? That she attached herself to you because otherwise, she felt useless.”

You look above him and examine the curtain. That’s easier than looking him in the face. You put your hands in your lap and wring them tightly. No, you never thought of it that way because that can’t be true.

“Why… why would she feel like that? I give her nothing. I’m…”

“Now, let’s stop right there,” he raises a thick finger, “what did I say about talking about yourself? Be kind.”

“Yes, Doctor,” you murmur, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, you owe yourself one.”

You bow your head guiltily. The more you talk to him, the more aware you are of all your bad habits. Isn’t this supposed to help you feel better? Not feel worse?

“It’s work, it hurts and then it feels good,” he says, “but the important thing is that you keep going. You keep the progress up, even if some days we don’t take a step forward, he have to keep looking ahead.” He lowers his hand over the end of the armrest, “I think this week you should write about Amber, try to get your thoughts out. Along with your other homework which is…”

You blink at him and give a dumb look. He smiles, “be nice to you. I want you to write down everything you do all week to that end. Baths, moisturising, reading a book, sketching something, anything that makes you happy.”

“Okay,” you grip your knees, slowly trailing your hands up to tug down the pleats of your skirt. You’re not used to it, you almost forgot you were wearing the thing, “I’ll try.”

“You’ll do great,” he encourages, “you already have done so much.”

🕊️

You're exhausted after the session. Almost despondent on the drive to Andy's as everything Steve said swirls in your mind. A thousand thoughts to add to your already overcrowded head.

"Honey," Andy's voice cuts through your trance, "are you okay?"

"Uh, I'm sorry," you say, stunned to find the car parked in front of his house, his eyes boring into you with concern, "yeah, I'm fine."

"Oh, you haven't said a word," he slides the keys free of the ignition, "and you weren't responding."

"No, no, it's... I was thinking."

"Ah," he nods, hesitating to get out of the car as he hovers his hand against the door, "about... did Steve say something?"

"Um, just about stuff," you reply evasively, "nothing big."

"Well, you now I'm always here for you, right? That you can talk to me too?"

You nod and fake a smile. He's nice and all but you can't tell him everything. You can't even tell Steve everything you put in your journal. Somethings are meant just for you.

"I know," you murmur, "is it alright if I lay down for a bit. I'm really tired out."

"Sure you can, dove," he reaches over you caress the crease of your skirt, "just for a little. You don't want to waste the day."

"I won't," you promise and pull the handle on your door.

You turn and hide your face from him. He's right but it still irks you. Sometimes he can be so bossy. You've done what he wants. You're doing the therapy, so why can't you have one day to just burrow away.

🕊️

You spend your time alone staring at the ceiling, all tied up with Andy’s suggestion. Don’t sleep the day away. Sigh, now you can’t even close your eyes. You’re too worried about doing just that.

After a few hours, you give up, hoping to find some solace in a cup of tea. You can pop out and assure Andy that you’re awake. Maybe you should work on the painting. He must be getting impatient for that as well.

You pull on a loose wooly cardigan, the one with the patch sewn into it, and hide your clingy t-shirt beneath it. You come downstairs and pass the archway of the living room. The TV is lit up with the menu but Andy’s nowhere to be found.

You hear him. You go further down and peek into the kitchen. Something tinkles against porcelain as you watch him pour the contents of a bag into a bowl. There are several set out already, on a neat wooden tray with two glass bottles of soda.

“Um…” you step into the doorway. “I… was going to put the kettle on.”

He looks over at you and smiles. It’s only then you notice his clothing. A pair of thin plaid pajamas and a navy blue sweatshirt. He looks cozy. You’re not used to that. He’s all buttoned-up and tidy.

“Oh, sure,” he says, “I can get some tea out… but er,” he sets the bowl with the rest, “you kinda walked in on my surprise.”

“Surprise?” You wonder.

“Yeah, uh, I was thinking we could do a movie night. Your choice,” he presses closed the seal of the M&Ms bag and puts it at the back of the counter. “I got all these snacks and some soda if you like, but if you want tea instead–”

“Oh,” you bat your lashes.

“Oh?” He sounds nervous as he echoes your syllable.

“I… I wasn’t expecting this. I…” you fold your arms over your stomach, “you really… did all this?”

You tiptoe forward and raise your chin to see onto the tray. He grins proudly as you near and see the assortment of snacks; trail mix, chips, gummies, chocolate…

“Pretty simple but I figured maybe it would be fun.”

You suck your lower lip in and look up at him. His eyes are shining, almost hopeful. He did all this for you. He actually wants to spend time with you. He was even excited about it.

“It’s wonderful,” you say, “I hope… I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful. Only surprised.”

“Of course, honey,” he slides the tray off the counter, “let me get this.”

He carries the spread across the kitchen and you trail him into the front room. You linger at the threshold as he sets down the snacks on the low coffee table. The room smells of raspberry. You hum at the scent and notice the candle already lit on the table. The lights are dim as the flame lends a flicker to the space.

“Like it?” Andy looks up at your audible sniff.

“Smells nice,” you assure him.

“Well? You gonna just stand there or find something to watch?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you scurry over as he holds out the remote.

You sit on the couch and he drops down beside you. As you sit forward, he leans back, his arm stretched out behind you carelessly. You flick through the title cards of all the movies, intimidated by the endless selection.

“What kind of movies do you like?” You ask, almost embarrassed to choose one yourself.

“Whatever you like, dove,” he says.

It feels like the back of your shirt is moving, just along the bottom. The sensation is so light and you’re too nervous to look at Andy. You put your elbow on your knee and cup your chin. You guess it doesn’t really matter. You choose a title your recognise, not recalling what the movie is about.

“Don’t forget to dig in,” Andy sits up.

“Er, okay,” you put the remote down and take the bottle of soda. You read the label in the low light. It looks fancy. You try to twist the metal cap off but it threatens to cut into your hand. “Ow.”

“Here,” Andy reaches over, “let me.”

He grips the neck and pops off the metal lid with ease. He hands it back to you and takes his own. You thank him under your breath and hover your mouth over the top. You take a sip, the bubbles tickling your nose.

“Mmm,” you hide a cough at the carbonation, “ooh, pretzels.”

You reach for one of the twisted treats. He chuckles as the credits play and he takes a rippled chip. You bite into a pretzel and focus on the screen. He’s sitting so close. You glance over, there’s lots of couch free.

You nibble nervously as the opening scene plays. You focus on the dialogue, not quite picking up on everything. The movie’s much more serious than you expected. You finish a handful of the dry food and wash it down with soda before flopping back.

You squint at the screen and try to untangle the furling plot. It’s kind of boring. You hide a yawn in your cuff and keep your hand to your mouth. The scene shifts and suddenly a bed frame rocks, knocking against the wall as the camera pans down to reveal the two bodies writhing on the mattress.

Oh my! There’s always one of these scenes.

You fight not to close your eyes. You’re mortified as you stare wide-eyed, the room hotly silent except for the activity on screen. You can hear Andy’s breaths and your own. His foot moves as he adjusts his leg and you flinch, almost expecting him to move closer. No, why would he do that?

The scene finally ends. That was torture. Amber always lets you fast forward through those ones. You lean forward to hide your discomfort with another swig of soda. Andy clears his throat but doesn’t comment.

You munch on a mixture of sweet and salty, your stomach squirming. You’re just going to make yourself sick. You recline again, eyes burning and itchy as they threaten to close. No, you don’t want to upset Andy. You can’t fall asleep.

The man and woman argue in the street. You don’t know who would ever do that. Those sorts of conversations are better behind closed doors. You don’t really get relationships; they seem confusing and stressful.

You arch your back, stretching out a kink in your side and a snort from beside you makes you flinch. You don’t look over, not until it comes again. Andy’s shadow sits with its head back, nose to the ceiling as he snores. Oh no, he fell asleep first!

You’re almost happy it’s him. You were so afraid of doing so, fearing at how he might react. You just think it’s funny. This movie really is boring.

You giggle and call his name. He doesn’t react. You call again, “wake up.”

Still nothing. You chew your lip and raise a shaky hand. You touch his arm, poking him with two fingers. You repeat his name. He’s now waking up. You nudge him hard and he slips, first one way then back towards you. Before you can react, he folds over onto your lap.

His weight hits your legs and you squeak. You don’t think as you grab onto his shoulder and try to shake him. He’s so heavy! And big. The difference between you is obvious but even more in that moment. He is immovable, like a boulder crushing you.

“Andy,” you say, “please, wake up.”

He bends his arm and grips your knee, nestling in as he snorts deeper. He must be exhausted. He drove you all the way to therapy and then got all these snacks together for movie night. And now, he can’t even enjoy it. All for you. All his effort spoiled because of you.

You deflate and sink back into the cushions. You kick your legs and try to wiggle free of him. You can’t seem to get out. You surrender and look at the screen. You guess you’ll finish this darn movie.

#fic #don't speak #andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #au #library au #defending jacob #series

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