#and his is completely wrapped up in chains there's a hole in his heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redr0sewrites · 1 year

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Jealousy Hcs With HSR Characters

urghrhrhrh the cutscene at the end of *redacted for spoilers* with luocha had me feeling some typa way ab him ngl....

🥀CW: jealousy, slight mentions of arguments, fluff, some smut, dirty talk, marking, etc

🥀Pairings: Blade x reader, Kafka x Reader, Dan Heng IL x reader, Sampo x reader, Luocha x reader

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

BLADE

i honestly feel like he wouldnt get jealous too easily, but once hes jealous he can be pretty possessive

he trusts you a lot, but sometimes needs reassurance that you wont leave him

i feel like he'd be more protective then actually possessive, however he can gets pretty pissed at the person hes jealous of, esp when it comes to you💀

ALL politeness goes out the door the second someone flirts with you

"theyre mine, i suggest you leave."

very straightforward and to the point

if the person refuses to leave you alone, he can and will get physical on your behalf but only if you want him too

afterwards he would probably act like an angry cat, wanting your affection and reassurance but also being pissed and lashing out at the same time

jealous sex? yes

when hes jealous he is actually feral during sex

using his weight to pin you down, fucking into you so roughly and yet stopping whenever you came close to cumming

"do you need more? too bad. you'll take what i give you. would you prefer to have him fuck you? have his cock stuffing your greedy hole? he cant fuck you like i can. youre mine, and im yours. fucking remember that."

he would also like it if YOU took control and showed him that you only had eyes for him

kiss him, mark him and claim him as yours, show him that you love him and only him

KAFKA

TOTALLY THE JEALOUS TYPE

will deny it with all her heart, but the second that anyone approaches you with even the slightest un-platonic intentions she practically materializes at your side

will wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you in close before kissing your neck

"hello darling~ who are they? a friend?"

honestly not even trying to be subtle, but less rude than blade

she is hot and she knows it, once you both are alone she'll tease you mercilessly. she knows that your utterly devoted to her, the same way she is for you, but she cant help but be jealous sometimes, right?

she is not ashamed tbh

i feel like she would be petty ab it, she'd withhold her affection so your the one that has to come crawling to her

this leads to rough, rough sex

kafka is unrelenting, fucking you and making you cun again and again, each time asking you who you belong to and scratching deep marks down your back and chest with her nails

SHE WILL MAKE U WEAR HER COAT TOO

the thought of you bare beneath her in nothing but her favorite velvet coat, chained down and covered in hickeys is a regular fantasy of hers

overall, very possessive

if u make her jealous on purpose.... good luck because you will not be cumming for the next month

she wont even let you touch yourself, she'll laugh and mock you as you grind yourself against her thigh, begging for release...

Dan Heng IL

when dan hengs not in his dragon form, its nearly impossible to tell when hes jealous bc he just seems so calm all the time

but the second hes in his dragon form???? possessive as fuck. and its obvious. his tail is lashing through the air, his face is twisted in disgust (he looks so cute when hes angry), and hes practically growling at you as his tail wraps involuntarily around your legs

he'll come up and rest a hand on your shoulder, which seems like a normal gesture at first until you notice him death staring the person talking to you, his tail slashing through the air as hes practically growling for your attention

honestly it all boils down to dragon instincts

if its trailblazer dan heng, it would be a completely different story

hed prob just walk up to you and calmly ask who the person was, and would introduce himself as your boyfriend. if the person was especially persistent, he might ask you to come with him but will otherwise just stare at them ngl😭

when it comes to jealous sex with dan heng IL, PUT HIM IN HIS PLACE!!!

he gets jealous and possessive sooo easily, so the best thing to do is just rail him to high heavens to assure him that ur his and hes urs

could be either super soft or super rough sex

no in between

its either sensual, you whispering sweet nothings in his ear about how you only have eyes for him as he gently ruts into you, whimpering softly....

or you have him tied down, overstimulating him and railing him into oblivion as you fuck him dumb

Sampo Koski

he would act so lovey dovey in front of the person making him jealous that its almost disgusting

imagine that one couple who made out against the lockers in highschool and had wayyy too much pda except x10

will literally call you pookie snookums sugar bear honey pie while draping himself in your lap and kissing your whole face just to make the person leave

even if they werent flirting with you in the first place

i think he actually wouldnt get jealous super easily tbh he KNOWS hes hot

he will tease YOU tho

"aww, did you meet someone new? your gonna replace me already?"

NOT SUBTLE EITHER IM SO SORRY

"is your pal sampo already second best to this person? are you really gonna replace me?" *cue sly smirk*

after a while he begins to get needy for your attention and will start to get slightly irritating, poking you, saying your name and looking away when you turn to him, hugging you tightly, etc

eventually he'll DRAG you away, whining the whole time

when yall get home, PLEASE rail this man

he will be smirking the whole time, but the second you tug his hair and force him down onto the bed he is practically giggling

sampo will mark you up like CRAZY during jealous sex, he is like lowkey feral and is not afraid of letting everyone know ur his and hes urs

loud af- moans, whimpers, the whole agenda

afterwards, he will cuddle with you and practically crush you with his weight

hes just sillyyyy<3

Luocha

listen

if you manage to make this man jealous then you must be actually insane

hes like scary calm and reserved ab any situation like this, if someone is flirting with you he'll simply ask them to leave or just come up to you and silently kiss your cheek

hes pretty and hes honorable and he KNOWS it, he would never let jealousy cloud his sights and trusts you enough to know your loyal to him

hes utterly devoted to you and nothing can change that

however

on the off chance that he does get jealous

wowwo

ngl hed prob just confront you ab it to communicate with you ab how he feels, and just to reassure himself your not leaving

hed act like SUCH a gentleman out of pure anxiety for the next few days, he already does but now he wont even let you lift a finger. need to open a door? he materializes in front of you to open it. see something you want at a store? already bought. want food? already made.

when it comes to jealous sex, hed prob be rougher than usual but still romantic

hed be giving you hickeys and both praising and degrading you in missionary, ravishing you and bringing you to your peak again and again

he also wouldn't mind if you took control, and really enjoys words of affirmation both ways, especially you reassuring him that your his and hes yours<3

overall, very sweet and reasonable about the whole situation

IM WRITING AGAINNNNN EEEEE :D SEND IN HSR REQS PLSSSSSSS LUOCHA IS SO SILLY

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thefreakandthehair · 7 months

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we feel a little warmer now.

rating: teen & up | wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-typical injuries, pre-relationship, getting together, fluff, light hurt/comfort | prompt: love is a fire that never goes out @steddielovemonth & a happy birthday gift for @henderdads! title from the woods, by hollow coves.

February in Indiana is still the dead of winter— cornfields are barren, trees sway in the wind without their leaves, and the sky seems to have a sheer layer of grey even on the cloudless days.

Eddie’s always loved winter. The shorter days followed by longer nights, snowy Sundays, watching the smoke from a joint or cigarette dance in the freezing air, and excuses to do donuts in the local abandoned grocery store parking lot. He’s always loved winter, or at least he did until his world shattered at his feet, leaving him with injuries that take ages to heal and scars that leave him perpetually cold.

It’s been difficult to explain, even to the people who’d lived it with him. He can’t fully enjoy winter anymore because the cold seeps into his bones, maybe through the scars, maybe just because of the nerve damage. He’ll never know for sure because Hawkins General doesn’t exactly have a Demobat Specialist on staff so he just keeps it to himself.

Well, mostly. Steve knows.

Hiding anything from Steve has proven impossible. His constant chill, his frustration with the new but still-improving limp, the grief, the guilt, the confusing simultaneous euphoria of survival. The only secret he’s managed to keep is the big fat crush he’s harbored, probably since Steve helped find him in the woods.

Maybe earlier. Maybe since high school. He tries not to think about it too much.

The point is, Steve knows and even if Eddie hasn’t said that it breaks his heart to lose the quiet winter nights smoking on the porch or the hood of his van, Steve figures that out, too.

He must, because Eddie nearly jumps out of his freezing skin when knuckles rap on the front door of his and Wayne’s new trailer. There’s a system these days: check the peep hole, crack the door with the chain still attached to confirm, and only then does Eddie open the door completely. An unfortunate system, but he’s far from the town hero that Steve’s been hailed as, albeit against his will.

Speaking of, through the peep hole, he sees Steve standing on his porch wrapped in what looks like a thick hoodie and winter coat.

“Who goes there?” Eddie asks, cracking the door and peering out with one eye.

“It’s me, you ass. Let me in, I have a surprise.”

The door chain unhooks with a metallic click and Steve enters the trailer like he belongs there.

Because he does, Eddie thinks.

“A surprise? For me? Oh, do tell.”

Steve stands in the living room, a live wire if Eddie’s ever seen one. His hair is a little messy, as though he’s been raking his fingers through it. His nose is pink, complemented by his frosty cheeks, and his eyes are wide and wild.

“If it’s overstepping or whatever, we can pretend I never mentioned it but I know how much you miss winter nights. And I uh, I built a fire pit at my house?” His voice pitches up, as though it’s a question.

“You built a fire pit? Today?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be honestly, time consuming but, yeah. I built a fire pit. And I was thinking that maybe with the fire and some blankets and a good jacket— a real winter coat, not just your leather jacket— you might be able to get some of that back.”

Eddie tries his best not to think about Steve lugging brick pavers and forcing them into place, thinking about Eddie and his stupid broken internal thermostat. Wanting to give him back something the Upside Down took. Worrying Eddie would somehow see this as overstepping.

It’s a quick Yes and even quicker drive to Loch Nora, a drive that Eddie’s always found hilarious. How can two neighborhoods exist so close together but feel like different worlds?

The whole way there, Eddie keeps Steve talking. If Steve’s talking, there’s less room for Eddie to spill yet another truth inadvertently, the only one left to spill. Instead, he asks questions about work, and Robin, and if he’s heard from his parents.

(“It sucks,” “she’s great,” “nope”. In that order.)

Pulling into the driveway, Eddie hops out of the car as best he can in one of Wayne’s old winter coats and follows Steve to the backyard. His jaw drops when he sees exactly what Steve’s done. More than a simple circle of bricks, there’s a pit made of concrete blocks in the center of a larger circle filled with wood chips and grey pavers marking the perimeter. Wood logs are already split in a pile off to the side next to two lawn chairs and dear God, Eddie really hopes that Steve bought that already split. He’s still not over him swinging on demobats with his bare hands, and the image of him with an axe is enough to put him down for good.

“C’mon, I’ll get it started,” Steve nudges their shoulders together and walks through the pit to the stack of logs.

Steve gets a roaring fire going, the kind that cracks and burns both red and blue, and passes Eddie an extra blanket. Flames dance beneath the clear sky, speckled with stars that do little to distract him from how unbearably warm he is for the first time in months.

People don’t just do things like this for him, not without expectation or out of obligation. So much of Eddie’s life has felt like a spectrum spanning from pity to transactional with very few exceptions in between.

Then again, Steve feels like an exception to a lot of things.

“Why?” Eddie eventually asks, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke like a kid seeing his breath.

Steve shrugs and tosses the butt of his own cigarette into the flames. “You lost enough down there, and I know how that feels. If there’s something easy enough to fix, I want to. You deserve that.”

Eddie turns and sees Steve smiling, just a soft upturn of his lips as he looks up at the sky. His face is flushed and Eddie wants to think it’s not from the flames.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Eddie says, scooting his chair over close enough for the arms of their chairs to nearly touch.

Steve looks back from the sky to Eddie, long lashes and the scar on his neck on full display.

“That a good thing?”

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, definitely. Maybe the best thing.”

They sit outside for hours, eventually sharing a blanket draped around their shoulders and a first kiss that lights him up from the inside.

Eddie’s warm long after the fire burns out.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steddielovemonth #myblurbs #please consider reblogging if you enjoy <3 #also the song really lends a vibe to this and it's one of my favs so consider this a music rec too lmao

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crystalandparrot · 4 months

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Rottmnt x Reader

School Tour

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

All actors are names made by me, any relation or comparison to these characters is purely coincidental.

Warning: Drug use, marijuana but its not underage drug use and it's legal.

Intergalactic by the Beastie Boys bounced between your ears once you stepped up to Empire High School. Most students were leaving for the day, talking amongst themselves and making plans for the weekend.

"Ms. (L/n)!" A man with a blonde effeminate wig that most students would call a "Karen" haircut waved furiously at you from the top of the steps. He bounced down the steps, his hair poofy and bouncing.

You quickly put your headphones away and tucked the phone in your pocket. "Mr.—"

"Dale is fine! I don't like formalities, I had enough of those in high school." Dale, the Principal of Empire High, chuckled goofily. "How about I give you the tour?" Dale asked, gesturing to the large school doors.

You nodded with a grin, following Dale inside. In between showing you the classes, he asked questions regarding your resume. Some questions were about family, achievements, and activities, but then he surprised you by asking about your schooling. "Oh! I was attending a Mystic College in the Hidden City. Don't worry, it has the same schooling as New York--"

"Oh! I wasn't worried about that! We have a couple of Yokai students and faculty that go in between schools." Dale opened the door to the gymnasium, holding it open for you to walk in.

THUD--SNAP

You looked forward, your eyes immediately expanding once you saw a punching bag quickly flying your way. For a split second, your eyes darted to the top of it, and upon seeing a broken chain your heart continued to drop. You couldn't resist the shriek that left your lips and the closing of your eyes.

THUD

Not feeling anything, you stopped screaming and opened one eye. Your eyes were looking at a large three-fingered, green, hand. Below that hand sat a silver watch with a teddy bear hour hand. In the large hand sat the punching bag, almost like he froze it in time. His fingers wrapped around the sides of the bag, almost fitting perfectly in his palm.

"Tyler! What did we say about using mystic abilities?" A deep voice boomed throughout the building.

"Sorry, Mr. Raph!" A pre-pubescent voice called back.

"C'mere and hang this back up." The deep voice commanded, tossing the punching bag forward. A teenage bull Yokai caught it like he was thrown a pillow. He quickly hung it back up on the one hook that was missing a bag.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" That deep voice shook you from your frozen spot. You looked up, into the deep brown eyes of the huge turtle Yokai in front of you. He wore a sleeveless red hoodie that had holes torn into it where the turtle's spikes poked through. On his legs were black shorts with two red stripes on each leg, matching the color of the red sweatband on his forehead.

"Y-yes.." realizing you were whispering, you cleared your throat, "Yes. Sorry, I'm fine."

"I know, my appearance is probably a little scary--"

You couldn't stop your mouth before it ran, he just looked so dejected, "No! I was just surprised at the sudden bag of sand flying towards me at light speed, I swear! Your appearance is quite nice to look at--"

"Ooh!" A crescendo of students began.

The large Yokai turned with a glare, "Do you want laps? 'Cause it sounded to me like you guys were asking to run laps right now." He insinuated. The students gasped and then they all went back to their original training. The teacher chuckled, then turned back to you. It was then that you noticed the adorable snaggle tooth that he had. "Sorry about them. High schoolers, y'know?" He chuckled again.

You chuckled this time and nodded, "I'm (Y/n) (L/n). The new librarian slash computer lab teacher." You held out your hand for a handshake.

"Raphael, but you can call me Raph. The guidance counselor slash wrestling coach slash gym teacher," Raph's hand completely covered your hand as he shook it.

"Thank you. For saving me, I mean. If it weren't for you, I probably would have been flattened." You said once Raph released your hand.

"It was no problem, really!" Raph said, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

Behind you, Dale cleared his throat, "I hate to interrupt, but it's nearly five and we still have your classroom to see."

"Oh! I didn't realize it was getting so late." You said, pulling out the purple phone to look at the time. As you did, you saw about twenty missed calls and double that in texts from your number. Surprisingly, they were all instructions from Donnie/Othello, telling you how to treat his phone, one password for unlocking his phone and no others, apps you were allowed to use and detailed explanations on how to use them, and finally, instructions to meet and exchange phones.

"Did you wanna...exchange numbers? We're both gonna be afterschool teachers so it might be useful for the future." The adorably large Yokai asked as his face flushed the color of his sweater.

"I'd love to!" You almost handed him the phone, but then paused. "Wait. I'm sorry, it's a long story, but I accidentally switched my phone with someone else's, so I can't put your number in here." Before the turtle could change moods, you grabbed his phone, "So I'll just give you my number." Raph's face flushed brighter as he felt his tail wag in his shorts. He's never met anyone like you before. Without Raph even knowing it, you had given his phone back and left with Principal Dale.

"Yo! You whipped already, coach?!"

"Tyler! Ten laps!"

A harsh wind smacked you in the face as you stood in the scarcely populated park. It was currently 8:59 p.m. as Othello's phone read. You tucked the phone into your puffy sweater pocket and hugged your body. Donnie's meticulous texts said he'd be at Rucko Park at 9 P.M., so you naturally arrived five--okay ten minutes early. You didn't expect it to be so cold, though. Maybe you should have worn more layers or arrived closer to the allotted time, but...you kind of wanted to make a good first impression.

"Madam." A familiar voice shook you from your thoughts. You seemed to do that a lot lately.

Looking up, you spotted the purple-clad turtle Yokai from earlier. Quickly standing, you couldn't resist the temptation of copying his mannerisms slightly, "Good evening, sir. I understand we've fallen into quite the predicament with our cellular communication devices?" You raised an eyebrow.

'...Is she fucking with me?' Donnie heard that little voice in his brain, but his excitement overruled it. "You understand correctly, good lady! Might we resolve this disastrous plight before any other events can overturn this already cruel night?" Donnie finished with a bow.

"Wow."

Donnie felt sweat run down his brow. Maybe he should have listened, that little voice was usually right anyway--

"That. Was incredible."

Donnie looked up, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

"I would continue, but that was better than anything I could have come up with. Did you just make that up?" You asked, stars in your eyes.

Donnie felt himself nod, no words leaving his lips.

"That's awesome." You breathed. "Oh! Your phone, good sir." You held out his phone with a similar bow, adding a bit more flourish as you held out his phone. "I obeyed your instructions to the tee. Well, I only really opened Spotify, but I followed the instructions!" You explained once Donnie took his phone from your hand. You stood fully straight, "You're Othello Von Ryan?"

"Ah! The lady has exquisite taste? Yes, I am Othello, or Donatello, as most know me. You're (username)?" He asked, referring to your Spotify account.

"(Y/n), as most know me." You repeated with a grin.

Donnie chuckled, handing back your phone, "You've been following me for a couple of years, I see," he must have looked through your app.

"Yes! You've helped me so much—you were basically my life line in college—" your face flushed as you realized your words, "YOUR MUSIC! Not you, well, technically you, but—"

"How?" Donnie quieted your thoughts with a single word.

"Your studying playlists kept me sane. If I had to scroll through another classical music studying playlist I would have shrieked." You dragged your hands through your hair, invoking a chuckle from the tall Yokai. "It was such an interesting mesh of music that I was able to get Valedictorian from all my studying! So, thank you." You smiled.

"Valedictorian?! My playlist made you study enough to be the top of your class! Take that Leo!" Donnie laughed chaotically. You accidentally let out a chuckled, startling the turtle into looking back at you.

"I hope you don't think this is overstepping but, I was wondering if you'd listen to a song? I thought you'd like it because of all of your playlists, and if you like it I have a ton more." You asked, scrolling through your Spotify accounts now.

'She's been polite, kind, and stayed out of your phone for the majority of the time you'd encountered each other. The least you could do is listen to a song you won't like.' Donnie reasoned with himself. "Of course! Text it to me, I'll make sure to save your number, oh loyal fan." Donnie joked.

"Really? Sweet! I'll save your number too, oh gracious music supplier." You joked back.

'Her chemistry is electric,' Donnie thought. He felt a buzz and watched as his phone lit up with a text.

"Thanks for meeting with me to switch phones, I wish I could stay longer, but—"

"No, need to explain. You have a date or you have friends arriving—"

You chuckled, startling Donnie from his self conscious rambling, "Oh, yeah. A super hot date with Jupiter Jim while I unpack my new apartment." You connected your headphones back to your phone. "It was really nice meeting you. Maybe we can hang out in the future, if you're up to hanging out with a school librarian?"

Donnie's gaping mouth finally closed as he looked into your hopeful eyes, 'Why were they hopeful?' He gave a small smile, "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea."

"Great!" Copying his bow from when you first met, you said, "Adieu, Sir." With that, you both left with your old phones and a new acquaintance.

CLAP "Alright! We start shooting in two weeks, people! And we're already on shit detail."

Leo leaned one cheek on his fist as the other scrolled through his texts. Old flings, fans who found his number, other actors, but nothing that he found important.

"What are we gonna do about Tiffany?"

Leo looked up, seeing all his directors and most of his co-stars looking at him, "Huh?"

"Tiffany! Your co-star? The love interest? The whole reason we've been here for five hours?" The director asked.

"Well, what's the main issue? Why are we trying to fix her little issues when the big issue is what's gonna make or break this?" Leo asked, shoving his phone into his pocket.

The others in the room began to get nervous. Most began sweating, and a few turned red in embarrassment.

"What?" Leo asked, now concerned.

"Tiffany is refusing to be your lead unless..." the director sighed, refusing to look at Leo, "unless you wear a human disguise."

Blink. Blink. "Ha!" Leo began laughing a deep chortle, straight from his core. The others in the room began laughing with him, albeit nervously. "Then let her refuse!"

The director stopped laughing, "But, but. She's your lead—"

Leo had suddenly stopped laughing to glare at his director as he spoke, "No. I'm the lead. Tiffany Blanco was supposed to be Renae Whittler, Primetime's love interest." Yanking the script from who knows where, he began reading, "'Renae Whittler initially despises Primetime, thinking him to be the man who ruined her life, but upon realizing they are after a common enemy, she begins to love him for the way he is. Together, they fight crime, discover truths, and explore worlds, and possibly each other.'" Leo read flatly. "'The way he is'. If you make Primetime human, is that making him, ‘the way he is'?"

The humans in the room looked ashamed and guilty, while the Yokai, some in disguises, looked at Leo in awe.

"If she wants to refuse, let her refuse. Because I will be damned if I let some twenty-three year with small tits and big dreams tell me who I am." With that, Leo stood and stormed out of the room.

As Leo paced the halls, one of his main co-stars, Danny Filmore, ran into the hall after he left. Danny was a deer Yokai who played the role of Primetime's 'Guy in the chair', Marcus Tracy. His character reminded him a lot of Donnie. Without a word, Danny sat in one of the chairs lining the crips walls and pulled out a vape. The vape was slim and purple in color, but it shined under the flickering fluorescent lights above. He took a long inhale and then a small inhale of regular air. After holding it, Leo realized Danny wasn't smoking Nicotine.

"Jesus, Danny, not here." Leo whined.

"What—" Danny started, but was then interrupted by a violent cough from his throat. He held up a finger, telling Leo to wait a minute. Again, Marcus Tracy reminded Leo of Donnie, not the actor who played him. "—ever man, you know Anthony doesn't give a shit." Danny finished, his eyes now bloodshot and lidded.

Anthony Silvermeadow was the director. He wasn't a pushover by any means, but he was pretty lax on the rules. As long as you weren't under the influence while shooting, he didn't care. Most of the time you saw him with a drink in his hand.

"That was pretty ballsy, man." Danny said, tucking his vape away.

Leo sighed, running a hand down the back of his head, "I know. But...it took so much for me to audition as me that it feels wrong to do anything else. I promised my—" Leo paused on the 'b-word', "—family that I wouldn't change for anyone. And I intend to stand by it."

Danny nodded, but stayed silent.

"I guess I should apologize?" Leo asked Danny.

"Nah. You're right. Tony even said so." Danny let the words hang in the air.

"But?" Leo waited.

"You gotta find your own love interest." Danny smirked.

Leo's mind raced through his texts, his old friends, anything he could think of that would give him a hint of where to start. With a click, the once flickering lights stayed on just as an idea passed through Leo's brain. 'Lightbulb.'

Once Donnie got back home, he pushed his hand into a metal panel next to a large, circular, sealed door. It lit up purple, reading his palm. The panel flashed green, accepting the readout and unlocked the metal doors. The first row of doors twisted clockwise then opened. The second set rotated counterclockwise then opened to reveal the large lab within. Donnie added them for extra security and totally not because they were in a Jupiter Jim movie and he thought it looked cool.

"Donnie!" Shelldon, Donnie's drone and adopted child (not literally speaking...I think?) flew out of the purple themed lab and flew around his father.

"Anything new?" Donnie asked as he walked over to his purple chair. With a click and a hiss, the shoulder pads on Donnie's battle shell released the front of his plastron where it was connected.

"A new number texted you. You have repeating interactions. Would you like me to —" Eight different guns popped out of Shelldon's back compartment, "remove the pest?"

"No!" Donnie cleared his throat, then sat in his chair regally, "No. That won't be necessary. Rename contact (L/n) and check new message." Donnie opened his computer and flipped through his files.

"Contact: (L/n). Sent: "Don't Stop Movin' by S Club. The vibe is 80's dance." I like this chick!" Shelldon added, once his automated voice cut out.

"The vibe?" Donnie asked out loud.

"I think she's referring to your playlists and how the vibe is always different, dude." Shelldon explained.

"Huh. 80's dance music...go ahead and play it, Shelldon." Donnie waved his hand in Shelldon's direction.

It was quiet before a synthetic voice started with the hook. It was followed by a heavy thumping base, then a pleasant male vocalist began to sing the bridge. The words were a nice balance of fast then slow, with vibrato when appropriate. A sudden appearance of a female singer gave Donnie goosebumps. Their voices had a nice harmonization. Her voice grew more and more powerful as the instruments grew. Donnie couldn't help but tap his feet and bob his head. As the lead sang the chorus that was accompanied by more background singers of equal talent, Donnie felt a grin spread onto his lips. The need to boogey was insatiable. The chorus repeated in the background when the male vocalist came back to the mic. The speed in which the song progressed seemed to get quicker, like the hook, chorus, and bridge were all shortened.

By the time the bridge came on again, Donnie couldn't resist. He stood up, performing his dancing moves he’s secretly perfected over the years unbeknownst to his brother and father who all shared the same house.

Until now, that is.

Splinter, also known as Hamato Yoshi, and also known as Donnie and Mikey’s father, walked to Donnie’s lab to explore the commotion. With a cane and small shuffle, Splinter peeked around the door, spying Donnie dancing like he was in an 80’s music video.

“Ah, young love.” Splinter nodded, then put a hand to his chin in thought, “Maybe I will marry one of them off.”

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kanonavi · 9 months

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2023 XVX Fic Recs!

Hi, all, I hope you're having a lovely holiday season! Around the beginning of this year, just for fun, I decided that I would record all of the fanfics that I read this year, and during the summer I had the idea to take some of the best fics I read in 2023 and compile them at the end of the year into a rec list. Since xiaoven was the ship I read the most fics for, I've decided to just do a rec list for them this year, but maybe in the future I'll branch out more!

As with any rec list, please take note of the ratings and the tags for any given fic! Just because something suited my taste doesn't necessarily mean it will suit yours, please take care of yourselves. Now, here are 10* fics that I read this year and think that other xiaoven fans should read too! (Also uh. Sorry for how much I'm about to talk in the reviews lol)

*Keep an eye out for a few bonuses that I've peppered in ;)

We Creatures of Fate, by Wackachu

[Ongoing, Teen, 57.9k, 7/?]

Xiao is a weapon forged from red, carved from the hearts of weeping souls and etched into the memories of grieving mothers. While free under the care of a new God, he finds salvation, yet feels as trapped as the day the chains first clamped down onto his wrists. Venti is a God, one born from the wishes of others as opposed to his own. After losing his loved ones, he can't help but feel lost, high on a throne all alone, built upon all things he despised. The two find each other by chance, yet the rest can only be described as fate. ---------- A telling of Xiao and Venti's story with a hefty load of lore

If there is any fic on this list that should be read, it’s this one. I am an absolute sucker for speculative lore when it comes to Genshin, and the picture that the author has assembled of Archon War-era Liyue is absolutely masterful. Within the threads of that beautiful tapestry, they’ve also been interweaving Xiao and Venti’s developing relationship all the way from when they were a newly-freed Adeptus and young Archon respectively. They have a long journey ahead of them (the burn is slow, folks), and I think that said journey is an absolute must-read.

Extra Recs: Wackachu has also written two other xiaoven one-shots, which I highly recommend for more bite-size pieces of their excellent taste!

the holy light of your single lantern, by boxofcrows (@miralia)

[Complete, Teen, 34k, 6/6]

“Long divided by river and sea, For years we two have failed to meet – And suddenly to find you seems like a dream.” Thousands of years of silence, broken by a single visit.

This fic wrapped up recently, so it’s a great time to go and show it some love! One of my biggest sorrows is that xiaoven is rather lacking in really good canon universe fics compared to other Genshin ships, but this fic managed to fill that hole in my heart. The author does a fantastic job of capturing the way that Xiao and Venti’s conflicting natures and ideals can cause friction between them, all while maintaining the undeniable magnetism that they feel towards each other.

Relax In My Arms, by alphaparrot (@aparrotandaqrow)

[Queerplatonic XiaoVen, General Audiences, 5.9k, One-Shot]

As Lantern Rite arrives, Xiao is found exhausted and spent by Qiqi of Bubu Pharmacy, who brings him back to Liyue. Upon awaking, Xiao quickly makes his exit and returns to Wangshu Inn, where Venti is waiting for him on the balcony. Xiao isn't in the mood to party, but maybe a chill hang-out would help him relax. Venti knows just the thing to help Xiao relax and recuperate, and as they both get comfortable, they begin to reflect....

Author's Original Promo Post!

Queerplatonic xiaoven was a flavor of their relationship that I hadn’t tried before this fic, but it really sold me on it. What I’ve always loved about xiaoven so much is the inherent intimacy that can be achieved between them once all of the emotional barriers between them have been stripped away, and I think that those ideas are explored very beautifully here. Xiao and Venti trust and love each other so deeply here, and it shows in every word and touch that they exchange, and I think that it’s a must-read for anyone whose brain chemistry was altered by the ‘Endless Suffering’ trailer (so basically, every xiaoven fan ever lol)

i can not save us (but you can), by anemowisp (@sillygirl19)

[Teen, 19.4k, One-Shot]

two boys figure out what the hell they're doing

In the midst of one of the most turbulent times in my life, one particular line in this fic really hit me where it hurt, and it’s one of the few times that I’ve actually cried reading a fic. In my xiaoven-enjoying friend groups, we sometimes call Xiao and Venti old men with teenager problems, which means they don't always work when turned into actual teenagers/young adults with those problems, but I think this fic pulls it off really well.

what queer sins stain thy soul, by Anonymous (@sincerelyandyourstruly)

[Mature, 3.2k, One-Shot]

In which Xiao, long-established asexual, learns that identity is not as stable as he’d like to believe.

As an ace person myself, I feel it’s so rare to find a really good asexual character study where the asexuality is actually one of the central focuses of the intimacy taking place (if anyone has any recs of that variety please hit me up!), but I think that this fic pulled that off really well. It also delves into that particular vibe of when one’s identity might be shifting, which can be a really scary thing, but Xiao in this fic is lucky enough to have someone he loves and trusts to support him as he explores his new desires, which was really comforting to read about.

Where Words Fail, by kavvueh (@kavvueh)

[Complete, Teen, 34k, 12/12]

Author's Original Promo Post!

"You're Barbatos," Xiao repeats breathlessly. The young man in front of him nods. "Yep." "But..." Xiao cuts himself off and tries again. "You're the God of songs and poetry." The Anemo Archon nods his head sagely. "More or less." Xiao fixes Lord Barbatos with the most incredulous look he can manage. "... You're failing Music Theory."

As someone who was also suffering through music theory alongside Venti as this fic was publishing, all of the attention to detail in the musical aspects of this fic absolutely tickled me. But all of that was merely a foundation for a lovely story about a pair of souls finding their partner in a new life. The musical connection that xiaoven have is one of the essential tenets of the ship, and this fic did a beautiful job of using that idea to its fullest potential.

Extra Rec: kavvueh has recently started publishing a new xiaoven fic with a similar setting, so if you enjoy these kinds of fluffy modern aus, give that one some love as well!

The Stars in Teyvat are a Lie, and So Is the Sky, by yueyunn

[Complete, Teen, 148.2k, 13/13]

There were several issues that Xiao immediately took with Ningguang’s proposition for him to produce for Barbatos: his other artists had upcoming comebacks and year-end stages that required his attention, he was overworked enough as it were already, and Ningguang was not exactly someone he was looking to do any favors for. While her persistence to overlook all this was one matter, nothing aggravated him more than Ningguang completely ignoring the obstinate fact that he. doesn’t. work. with. idols.

Perhaps I was a bit like Xiao in this fic at the beginning of this year, because I approached the two idol/celebrity aus on my to-read list with open skepticism, and then ended up absolutely adoring them both. What I loved about this fic the most was how much care was put into actually translating the character’s canon backstories into the modern idol au setting. The author clearly has so much love for the characters, and it really shows through in the way that everyone has their chance to shine, even the side characters. This fic also updated recently with 15k words of extras, so it’s a great time to visit or revisit it!

Extra Rec: gold rush, by underthethousandstars was the other idol/celebrity au I read this year and really enjoyed, so if those aus are up your alley, I highly recommend it!

low-key (no pressure!), by windrise (Twitter - @/wyndrise)

[Ongoing, Teen, 75.7k, 11/?]

Following his friend’s questionable suggestion, Venti partners with Xiao—the resident grouch of his early morning stats class—for his music project.

If you want to sit down with a fic that will give you the warm fuzzies, this is definitely the one to pick. As alluded to previously, I don’t really go for modern aus as much, but this fic absolutely blew my expectations out of the water. I was getting the ‘squee’s as I read about Xiao and Venti growing closer over the course of working on Venti’s project, as the author has an excellent grasp of the deep inner kindness that the two of them hold, and how that kindness would naturally draw them together.

bouquet of lies, by underthethousandstars (Twitter - @/zhongliorder)

[Complete, Mature, 85.9k, 12/12]

In a world where humans can use elemental magic, Xiao uses his to move through the shadows becoming Liyue’s phantom killer. Known to the public as Alatus, he is their most notorious assassin. One day Xiao secures his biggest job yet: kill the Crown Prince of Mondstadt, Venti. Harbouring no love towards any royal family Xiao pulls off his mission with success. Or so he thought.

This fic falls solidly on the darker end of xiaoven stories (the ‘Dark Fantasy’ tag is there for a reason!), so if you happen to like your ships with an enemies to lovers flare, this is definitely one to check out. This is one of those stories that really managed to pull me into the world of assassins and political intrigue that the author has crafted, and on top of that it puts a fun spin on exploring Xiao and Venti’s individual guilt and the way that it affects them as people. The first fic in the series is finished, but the second installment is currently in progress, so I highly recommend checking that one out as well!

every morning in the dark, by magicites (Twitter - @/bribird_wings)

[Complete, Mature, 77.1k, 34/34]

Stuck in a time loop where he succumbs to his karmic debt, Xiao struggles to see the point in moving forward. Venti struggles to save him.

While by far the heaviest of any of the fics I’ve recommended so far (mind the warnings and the tags!!), if you can stomach the subject matter, this is one of those fics that I would refer to as XiaoVen Essential Reading. The author has a pitch-perfect grasp of what makes xiaoven, qualities which are pushed to their limits as the two of them struggle to break free of the loop that they’re trapped in. I took severe emotional damage while reading it, but my only regret was that I hadn’t read it sooner. It’s definitely A Lot, but it’s so, so worth it for anyone who really enjoys this pairing.

And with that, we reach the end of the list! If you've made it this far, thank you so much, and I hope I've given you some fics to add to your to-read list for the coming year! I tried to incorporate some newer fics with some classics, so hopefully there's something here you haven't heard from before.

With that said, I'll hopefully be back next year with some more xiaoven or other Genshin fic recs! <3

#genshin impact #xiaoven #venti #xiao #venti genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #fic recs #fic rec list #the ficshelf #Maybe I should make my own rec tag so I stop losing fics I reblog but uhhhh tired :)#I technically cheated with bouquet of lies because I only read the sequel this year #But I feel like it made more sense to rec the first fic in the series instead of the second #Also if anyone I tagged in this doesn't want to be please just let me know and I'll remove you #I don't want to offend anyone's privacy

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tavyliasin · 8 months

Text

Tricks and Treats in the House of Hope - An ATG Side Story, Halloween Special

Haarlep hosts a party with a number of surprises...

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin/Tav/Haarlep/Raphael SPICE Rating: 6/5 Content Warnings: Sex, Bondage, Double Penetration, Oral Sex, Biting, Blood, Vampire Bite, Aphrodisiac (consenting), Costumes, Brat Taming, Orgy, Collar/Mild Pet Play,

Spoilers Act 3 House of Hope (Mild) Canon Compliance Not in the slightest this was purely for fun. Other Notes What was meant to be a short Halloween special turned into 5k words of a very hot orgy scene which I had far too much fun with! Mood/Music The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience, ORION, Linda XO "Orgiastic dances, Nymphs in trances, Yeah, we'll be the envy of the gods above. I'm feeling devious You're looking glamorous Let's get mischievious And polyamorous Wine and women and wonderful vices Welcome to the cult of Dionysus"

----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

Raphael moaned beneath the white sheet. By all accounts this was completely ridiculous, it barely even counted as a costume, but Haarlep had insisted ...

He had been made to keep his human form, brown eyes just visible through the roughly cut holes in the white cotton, the hint of his expression somewhere caught between pleading and anger. "You're not even-" he shuddered, keeping a tenuous hold on his composure, "in a costume, Harlot. "

"Of course I am, Archduke , do I usually carry a pitchfork?" The incubus let a sinister grin form upon their lips, with a hint of sharp teeth. They were in their usual harness, which had been embellished with a few ribbons and charms to count as being different . Their tail flickered swiftly, striking the "ghost" on the behind. "Good," they drawled seductively, "do keep *moaning* like that and I might give you a treat when we're home."

Beneath the "outfit" that covered him, Raphael was, of course, entirely naked. Well, except for the cruelly twisted ropes, and the various little devices that Haarlep had attached. The incubus made a slight motion with their hand and the intensity of the toy increased, drawing a prolonged groan from deep within the cambion.

"Oh this is such fun~ We should do this far more often." Haarlep grinned wickedly, tying the ornate masquerade mask over their face before pushing open the door to the ballroom. "Now, shall we have you greet your guests?" ---

“This isn’t…do we have to?” Tav looked over her shoulder, the muscular elf holding the other end of the chain attached to her collar. It was very…secure.

“You wished to attend the party, my heart, don’t you think you should dress the part?” He tugged the chain slightly, just enough so she could feel the pressure on her throat. “It’s not like I have a particularly comfortable outfit either, though. I would question Astarion’s taste, but he made quite the offer.” He pulled the chain wrapped around his other chain, earning a small moan from Tav’s left.

“Well,” the pale elf just about choked out, “perhaps I’m having some second thoughts about that.”

The three of them were making their way out to the House of Hope, the invitation was one they couldn’t really refuse. Halsin was dressed head to toe in fine silks, a gold edged mask secured over his eyes and forehead, adorned with sparkling jewels and feathers. The fine cloth was struggling to contain his large form, and he was clearly railing against the ruffled collar at his neck every time he moved. He channeled his irritation towards his partners, however, and had to cast mending on his lower clothing all too often as their reactions continued to rile him up.

Astarion was dressed like a cat, tail protruding from a hole in some rather short and tight leather leggings, leaving most of his legs exposed to the cool breeze. His upper body was still permitted a silk shirt, to cover his back, but the front was left far more open than usual. A little…overexcitement had torn it open when getting dressed, the slight mark of a bear claw on his chest. His collar, a little joke from the druid, read “Meowstarion”.

Tav, on the other hand, was dressed in what might have been called servant’s attire, if said servant worked exclusively for Haarlep. She was almost certain that this was who had sent the outfits for her and the vampire beside her. The collar was sturdy but covered in frills, her top revealing her entire bosom and a hint of the leather straps of the harness underneath. She fussed with the hem of her skirt, desperately wishing for it to at least reach the top of the stockings that rose up to her mid thigh.

“Oakfather preserve me, my heart, I believe I made myself clear already.” Halsin yanked her back to him, wrapping his arm around her throat and growling dangerously in her ear. “Your outfit will remain as it is. I want to feast upon you with my eyes, and if you are very lucky…” He left the sentence unfinished, instead running his tongue along the edge of her ear. “Now, behave. ”

Tav whimpered, the heat rising within her to an unbearable degree as she felt the druid’s outfit straining once more with the effort of keeping his excitement contained. She couldn’t resist the temptation. She rose up on her toes and rolled her hips to grind against him, relishing the gasp of heated breath against the back of her neck.

“Do not tempt me.” He warned, suddenly pushing her forwards again. “We do not want to be late.”

---

Haarlep grinned as they looked around at their soiree. It was hellishly divine, they had truly outdone themselves this year with the gifts they had sent out. Even the gith and the half elf were dancing together seductively, neither of their outfits leaving much to the imagination. When the doors opened next, they felt the frustration rise from the cambion “ghost” next to them. They manipulated their little toys again, pinching just a bit harder… “Did you have to invite all of them?” Raphael snarled through gritted teeth.

“Was I meant to leave your favourite client at home? Take a good look at her, Archduke , don’t you want to greet her?” Haarlep’s tail slid up the cambion’s leg, lighting up his nerves with fresh desires. “I can’t have them-” he gasped, the tip of Haarlep’s tail now threatening to join the toy that already filled him, “seeing me like this!” The incubus leaned in close to where his ear should be beneath the white sheet. “But they can’t see a single thing, not with this sheet here. Just keep up your ghostly moans, it’s very in character~” They laughed, an edge of cruelty in their voice as they withdrew their tail once more. The little whine of disappointment was the cherry on top of the delicious treat they were savouring. ---

“Is Haarlep even trying? I thought they’d come up with something inventive… And…Good gods is that Raphael in a sheet?!” Astarion could barely hold back the laugh, stopped only by Halsin looping a finger through his collar and growling in his ear. “We are guests here, Astarion, so remember to be a good pet or you will be taken out into the alley.” He punctuated the threat with a hand at the base of the “tail”, giving it just a little push and drinking in the moan like wine. Astarion didn’t seem to baulk at the threat in the slightest. Instead he leaned back, seductively reclining against the druid’s broad chest and tilting his head back to nibble along the edge of Halsin’s jaw. “If you want to take me outside, darling, all you need do is ask. I can think of plenty that we can do in a nice quiet spot-” “Control yourself,” Halsin groaned, finding it ever more difficult to follow his own order, “or you will be spending the night alone.” He gave the other man a short shove, quickly casting Mending on straining seams once again.

Tav felt a little jealous, or she did until Astarion collided with her back. His theatrical act of holding on to her to steady himself was fooling nobody, least of all Tav, but she let him anyway. She ached for the touch, and the firm grip on soft curves was almost as arousing as the whisper against her neck. “Keep riling him up, darling, and we will have quite the evening ahead of us. I do hope you weren’t planning on sleeping tonight. Or doing anything tomorrow.” He chuckled, taking just the smallest bite just beneath where her dress exposed her shoulder, quickly covering it up again to hide it from their lover. The incubus approached them, a swagger in their step and a grin on their face a mile wide. “I’m so very glad you could all make it, and don’t you look delicious ~” They were assessing each of the three in turn, sampling the flavours of arousal that were emanating from them even at several paces distance. “There will be time for the grand tour later, but perhaps you should get something to drink first? You do look so terribly thirsty.” Their look was more pointed than the claws they gestured with, a table laden with fine glasses waiting to be taken. Astarion gave the fare a sideways glance, before looking back at Haarlep. “That’s not some kind of rotten trickery again is it? I am dying - again - for a good wine right now.” Haarlep summoned a servant, ironically wearing more than the outfit that was barely covering Tav, who brought a tray of drinks across to them. “No devil trickery here, you are all more than valued guests tonight.” They took a glass and passed it to the almost silent spirit beside them. “Here, even your most gracious host will take a drink, right in front of you.” “Wait,” Tav butted in, calculating several different equations in her head to find the angle they were taking here. “I’ll choose the glass he drinks from, that way we know you haven’t planted one safe one amongst the others.” “Feeling bold today, are we?~” Haarlep crooned, laughing at the audacity of their guests. “That’s fine by me, each of these are the same. Although having you choose the Archduke’s fate, what an interesting thought.” Unseen behind cloth, they upped their wicked game again, giving a brief moment of further stimulation to the cambion. Raphael struggled to prevent his legs from quivering. If it weren’t for the tight ring at his base, the cotton sheet would need to be replaced already. He looked towards Haarlep, eyes almost watering. “The sheet.” He tried to keep the tough edge in his voice. “The costume ,” Haarlep corrected, “of course, I forgot to leave a hole for your mouth. How careless.” They pressed the fabric to the skin of his face and neck, one clawed hand gripping his chin and pulling the cotton tighter. Their other hand traced a lazy line to find the edge of his lips. “Ah, here you are.”

Raphael silently cursed under his breath as the incubus did exactly what they wanted, like they always did. Their claw cut a slit in the cotton in a smooth little line, just enough pressure to drag across his lip but not quite enough to draw blood. They brought their face closer, gazing deep into his eyes like a twisted mirror of all his darkest desire. He could smell the hot cinnamon and perfume, the soap he had massaged into their hair just hours earlier… When those infernal lips came just close enough to his own to feel the heat, yet still denying him the slightest physical touch, he nearly broke his veneer of calm to take the kiss he craved. Haarlep drew back, very satisfied with the helpless look in the eyes of the so-called “Master of the House”, lifting the glass to the newly torn hole. “Drink up, Archduke , taste the fruits of your labour, the treat that the Little Mouse chose just for you. ” He knew it wasn’t poison. That would be pointless, you don’t sacrifice the pieces from your own side of the board without very good reason and something much better to gain. But he also knew Haarlep was not playing idle games. No, the bitch was playing for keeps and loving every second. He caught the Little Mouse’s eyes, and drained the wine without pause. The temperature was both cooling and warming, and that hint of familiar flavour lingering on his lips confirmed his suspicions. It is going to be a long night, Little Mouse, you should have been more careful whose den you walked into.

Tav watched Raphael, or at least the sheet she assumed contained him, drink the wine in one leisurely motion as Haarlep poured it into his mouth. It was almost impossible to make out his expression, but he didn’t keel over. It would be difficult to know if he were simply immune to a poison that would kill her, but she couldn’t seem to find a reason why it might be dangerous. “The ghost isn’t dead,” Astarion said simply, stepping past her to take a glass from the tray, “so if the wine is safe for one undead then it’s safe enough for another. ” Despite his bold words, his first sip was tentative. “Wait.” Halsin commanded. “Like a cat, if you please, Meowstarion.” He tugged the vampire’s chain, encouraging him to face him again. “Meow~” Astarion returned Halsin’s intense gaze and began to lap at the wine, first almost comically with his tongue dipping in and out of the glass, but after a good few sips his motions became slower. Purposefully seductive. The heat was rising in him once again, and it showed both in the provocative way he drank the wine, and in the pink colour rising from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Tav was captivated momentarily, watching the indecent display. Her focus was broken by a clawed hand on her shoulder, the other reaching around her holding two glasses. Haarlep was close enough to feel their heat on her back, but did not touch her beyond the fingers just pressing on her shoulder enough to feel. “You should both have some too, you know. Slake your thirst, there’s plenty of time to enjoy the party.” The way they spoke should’ve been ringing alarm bells in her mind, but even just watching the way her partners were riling each other up was making her skimpy outfit feel like far too much clothing. Haarlep was not blind to any of this either, subtly inhaling the scent of arousal from the hint of sweat beading on her bare skin. They slid around her depositing the glasses in her hand almost without her noticing.

“Come.” Halsin commanded, almost too effectively as he gestured to Tav. She curled herself into his outstretched arm, leaning against his chest and cursing the layers of silks keeping her from the warmth of his bare body. He took the second glass from her hand, inviting her to watch their lover seduce them both now. Tav took a sip of her own drink, finding the flavour pleasantly fruity, with a slight hint of cinnamon and clove that would likely make some overpaid journalist write a full page about ages and barrels. “This is…good…” She muttered cautiously, feeling the delightful warmth seeping through her body, blossoming and spreading into- Oh, shit. She realised too late what the trick was. She could feel Halsin breathing more heavily behind her now, too, the effects of the incubus’s saliva disguised in the wine taking hold of all of them. She looked back at Raphael, wondering if she was imagining the sheet shivering…

Haarlep spread their wings, stretching out and allowing themselves a pleased little flutter. All around the ballroom, glasses were being drained. Even Tav, who had clearly worked out the ruse, continued to drink. I knew I liked you for a reason, Little Mouse, you step into my trap and continue to take the cheese.

—

The soiree had been decorated and laid out to Haarlep’s very specific instructions. Heavy velvet curtains had been hung strategically, disguising the entrances to side rooms laden with cushions, beds, and even…tools… One by one they began to fill, the curtains drawing closed, except from those who preferred an audience. Shadowheart and Lae’zel looked as if they were fighting as they disappeared through a curtain themselves, though it was anyone’s guess as to what methods they were like to use or who was likely to “win”. Haarlep enjoyed listening out to that one particularly, it was…unexpected. Somewhere in a dark corner, a tall human dressed in an intimidating outfit that barely tried to hide a tapestry of scars lead an elf with a white raven into a room which had been laid out with their very specific complement of instruments. That one was Haarlep’s very favourite little friend, and they could tell the man with tentacle tattoos around his eyes would be the perfect playmate for him. The music they would make… They could dance to it all night. Other couples and groups slowly left the ballroom, aside from one pair who were simply dancing. Haarlep wondered if they should intervene, encourage them to drink if they hadn’t yet, but seeing the fiery Tiefling dance with the horned gentleman was in its own way endearing. They were enraptured with each other, in a way the incubus no longer wished to interrupt. They had enough of a banquet already.

They turned back to their…plate? They had picked out their morsels with care, and seasoned them just perfectly. “Why don’t we all make ourselves more comfortable, follow me~”

—

Halsin dragged his two lovers behind him, admittedly curious about the incubus and feeling a desperate need that perhaps even two hot bodies would not be enough to sate. His nails dug into his palms as he gripped the chains, the seams in his clothes finally forgotten and coming undone as he marched them into the room behind the devil and the ghost. Raphael walked alongside Haarlep, just half a step behind them, struggling to walk straight. It was maddening, his home, even his body being used by the bastard strutting without a single care in the world. But he was too lust-drunk to protest, and he knew he would end the night satisfied one way or another. In some ways that was worse, knowing that Haarlep was right and usually were, too. Tav stared in wonder, the room was positively decadent, and yet there were so many hidden secrets. It wasn’t Haarlep and Raphael’s usual bedchamber, this place was…different. A pool still sat behind screens on the far side of the room, healing was clearly considered a necessity. Remembering her prior experiences, that was almost a relief. Haarlep gestured to the bed, winking to Halsin. “Make yourself at home, I just have one last loose end to tie up .” Raphael moaned as the gag was pressed against his lips. His arms had been bound beneath the sheet the entire time, he was completely unable to resist, not that he had any intention. He wouldn’t admit it, but he craved this. He needed it. The incubus was extremely good at everything they did. He gave them just one crumb of recognition, a hissed whisper before he bit down on the leather bar. “Fine, Haarlep, do as you wish.” “Oh, I planned to, Raphael.” The dropping of insulting pet names was as close to a declaration of affection as the two would ever get. There was no kindness in clawed red fingers that scraped against heated skin, drawing down the hooks from above and carefully securing them through tiny cuts made in the fabric.

Halsin wasn’t sure where to look. He stood on the opposite side of the bed to where the incubus was beginning to make the moaning ghost float in the air, suspended by carefully placed rope, the cotton sheet just barely revealing what was beneath as the spirit was fixed facing the bed. In Between them, however, were his two personal pets, crawling onto the sheets as he tugged their chains to direct them. Astarion’s bare chest looked delicious, and Tav…the blush on every area of her skin was just as enticing. With a quiet rip, more seams were obliterated silks giving way to tense muscles and tenser-

Halsin didn’t notice. He didn’t care. He only wanted one thing. Well, three things, if he was honest. The two lovers on the bed, and the incubus who turned to watch them with a smile, their tail flicking upwards to make the ghost moan once more.

“Drink.”

The command from the druid’s lips reached Astarion’s pointed ears like a drug more intoxicating than the aphrodisiac-spiked wine. He didn’t need a second word.

Tav leaned back automatically, reclining against the soft pillows and tilting her head to expose her neck. Astarion approached her on all fours, crawling as cat-like as he could, swishing his hips to move the tail behind him. He could feel the eyes on him, and he was ready to put on a show. He nuzzled into Tav’s neck, the bell on his collar jingling next to the tag, and ran his tongue slowly along the line of her veins. The noise caught in her throat was almost enough to drive him to a frenzy, and he bit hard, relishing the latest sound to spill from her lips as heated blood poured into his own.

Halsin frowned, the vampire might go too far if he did not remember to rein in his lust-parched thirst. Haarlep caught his eye and simply winked, an unspoken thought passing between the two.

Astarion broke his connection to Tav’s neck as the fiend’s tail curled around his forehead and eyes pulling him back and taking his vision. Behind him, he felt the tail of his costume moving, quickening his breath as the weight of the druid settled on the bed behind him.

“He told you to drink, little kitten, not to kill. The Rat is not to be emptied like your last meal.” Haarlep growled a slight warning, while stroking the elf’s silvered hair.

“I was fine,” Tav gasped, longing for the fangs to return with their incredible heat and the edge of pain that drove her wild every time, “I can handle being a little drained.”

“You will need your energy, Rat. You are dressed as a servant, perhaps it is time for you to serve.” Haarlep looked her in the eye, the searing gaze of the flames carrying several levels of meaning. “Druid, handle your animal.”

Halsin wrapped a strong arm around Astarion’s chest, holding him tight but firm as he pulled him down the bed, stopping as the vampire’s shoulders were just below Tav’s hips. “This time, drink nicely. Just like you did with the wine earlier.”

Astarion thought for a moment about disobeying, but the druid’s hand was already at his “tail” again, stirring it in a way that made him moan loudly even as he began to dip his tongue with swift flickering motions, tasting Tav like she was indeed his favourite drink. Which wouldn’t even be an inaccurate sentiment…

Meanwhile, Haarlep had mounted Tav’s chest, their knees pinning her shoulders and arms to her sides. They licked their finger and held it to her lips. “Show me. You can handle a little more, Rat, I know what you’re capable of.”

The feeling of her lover’s tongue made her mouth open anyway, her breath seeking a quicker exit from her body as her nerves lit up. Tav obeyed the incubus above her, wrapping her lips around their finger, savouring the slight heat and cinnamon, relishing in the feeling of the aphrodisiac effect heating her entire body like a hundred fires lit within her all at once. Still…the look on their face…it was too self-satisfied. She bit down on their knuckle, drawing just the smallest drop of blood that tasted like molten iron.

Haarlep laughed. Somewhere behind them, Raphael rolled his eyes. He knew that sound, he knew it all too well. The Mouse was pushing her luck…but at least this time, it would work in his favour. His own finger still felt warm, the slight edge of pain carrying across through Haarlep’s connection. Using his form like this…it was exciting.

Halsin watched his pet go to work on his other love, not caring much about what the incubus was doing. As long as neither of his hearts signalled their wish to stop, he would continue to indulge all of them. And he was so very intrigued by the huge red wings spread out before him and the long tail curling of its own accord.

Astarion wiggled his hips, an invitation to the man behind him, knowing his usual…preferences. He moaned a little, letting the vibrations of his voice move his tongue more as he continued to savour Tav’s warmth and the way she would writhe beneath him.

The invitation was clear to Halsin, but he hadn’t decided exactly what he wanted… The tail was clearly still stimulating, so that toy could remain in place, but he needed something… The idea sparked in his mind as he saw the incubus sliding their harness to one side. The druid shuffled, glad of the huge bed space they had, and rolled onto his back. He pulled himself up the bed so he was right beneath Astarion’s hips, and tore away all the clothing in the way of his prize with his teeth.

The vampire yelped, almost stopping his work, but a swift grip on his rear put him back to work. Halsin did not waste time either, taking the entire length between his lips and working his tongue in maddening patterns across every sensitive inch.

Tav was in a similar situation, faced with the perfect copy of Raphael’s cambion form. She grabbed Haarlep’s harness and pulled them close, almost choking as she took them too deep into her throat too fast. The sensation, however, was intense. She stubbornly kept going, delighting in the words of praise that rained down from above her, encouraging her to keep going. She was almost certain she heard a spirit whining pitifully somewhere off to the side, too, but her mind - and mouth - were too full to give it a second thought.

—

Raphael hung in the air, eyes fixed on the scene before him. All four of them were ravenous, insatiable, and Haarlep was feasting on their desire as well as his own. They looked at him again, a wicked smile curling across their features, and finally gave the quiet permission for him to transform.

Red wings wanted to spread behind him, but Haarlep had planned ahead. Slack rope that had sat around his shoulders was now taut around the wings, preventing them from doing anything more but helplessly struggle. The rest of the bindings had just enough give to account for the growth of his body, and the only thing left free was his tail. He flicked it in the air below him, the end the only part sticking out from beneath the sheet. He knew Haarlep would have no time for him, so he curled the tail up between his own legs and took a grip to mirror what the Little Mouse’s lips were doing, eyes fixed on her every motion.

—

Mouths, lips, tongues, they all danced in the night’s soiree. Haarlep conducted the infernal orchestra, feeling an intense power flooding through them as their favourite Rat and her Vampire were both overcome by the waves of intense pleasure. They held back from their own precipice though, denying Raphael his own for now. No, that would be too easy.

Besides, the most interesting participant at the end of the bed had been too busy giving to receive. Haarlep sensed his would be the most delectable climax to sample, the sheer lust emanating from him was palpable even to those without the incubus’s senses.

Tav gasped for air, partly from having her mouth full for some time, and partly from the orgasm that had just ripped through her body without mercy. Haarlep moved off her now, kneeling to one side and waiting patiently for the other two elves to finish, drinking in the sight of the larger man taking every last drop from his pale lover.

“Do any of you wish to stop?” Haarlep looked over with a smirk, knowing the answer even as the others still licked the moisture from their lips.

“More.” Halsin nodded.

“Now.” Astarion gasped.

“Please.” Tav whined.

Somewhere above them, the "ghost" whimpered his agreement.

It took only a few minutes for Haarlep to reorganise things to their satisfaction. They lay on their back for once, arms behind their head, looking towards the three before them. “Rat, you should be prepared.”

Tav swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. But she was nothing if not determined. The incubus saliva had certainly helped. Behind her, Halsin and Astarion were readying themselves with scented lotion and careful fingers, and in front of her the incubus was licking their hand once again.

“Not for your mouth, this time, Rat. No, this will make things…easier.” They caressed her hip with one hand, whilst plunging their prepared fingers deep within her core.

Tav wasn’t sure she needed the extra lubrication, she was already a mess, but she soon felt the other effect of their saliva. Tense and heated muscles began to relax a little around his fingers, allowing for more to slip inside, stretching carefully. The groan from behind her told her that the situation there was hardly any different. The desire within her to be completely filled was becoming insatiable. The incubus merely smirked at her.

“You are so very delicious~” They whispered, so only she might hear. The words alone had her voice mingling with her heavy breaths, not forming any language but that of pure lust.

It wasn’t long before Astarion’s hands were caressing her back, his lips coming to meet her shoulders and kissing lines of affection up to her ear. “Are you ready, darling? For us?”

She nodded, understanding the meaning in his words. Haarlep guided her hips to above them, lowering her down carefully, slowly, so she could feel the friction of every ridge. Flush to their body, they were not done.

“Closer, Rat.” They pulled her body forward, leaving her exposed to the lover behind her.

She was grateful for the incubus’s ministrations now, as Astarion carefully lined up and gradually entered her, groaning himself as he felt the incubus against him.

—

Raphael watched on, almost impressed as well as overwhelmed by the phantom tight feelings gripping him harder than his own tail did, as the last of the four manoeuvred on his knees, entering the pale elf with a gentle care and delicacy. The “tail” had long since been discarded, but most of the clothes remained on. Well, except for the druid’s. Muscles, and more, had long since turned the fine outfit into little more than rags, only the ruffled collar and cuffs remaining in one piece.

It was an utterly debauched sight. He strained at all of the ropes, desperate to feel more, to be where Haarlep was, where any of them were. He was not entirely immune to Haarlep’s abilities, and it had been hours since the toys had been set to their dastardly work on his body. He needed more, wanted more, he tried to cry out around the gag loud enough for the others to hear but their own lewd sounds were drowning him out.

—

Haarlep glanced over at their captive, deeply satisfied with how needy he looked. They grinned wickedly as they licked the tip of their tail, curling it around beneath them. They were delighted with their work, seeing their favourite toy filled with not one but two of them, moving in tandem and making her feel every single nerve and muscle as she rode out wave after wave of pleasure from their motion.

The druid on the other side of the complex equation was adding to it all, matching the pace that the incubus set at every turn, taking his cues from them and savouring the pleasure of both of his lovers. Haarlep wondered, perhaps, what the man might be like on his own, but that didn’t matter now. They considered this a test of his worth, to see which would outlast the other. Perhaps not a fair test, as the elf only had one partner clenched around him, whilst Haarlep not only filled Tav but ground against Astarion inside her, their own tail teasing within them at the same time just to add to Raphael’s torture.

Indeed, Haarlep was almost completely overwhelmed. Every room in their halls was filled with a similar scene, pleasure echoing off the walls, seeping into every stone, heating the hells themselves far beyond their usual searing flame. For once, it became hard for them to hold back. This was their finest hour, their masterpiece, the culmination of multiple carefully laid plan coming to one excruciatingly delicious climax. — The ghost was the first to lose the game, spilling forth across the floor from where he remained hanging, breathless, helpless, and utterly satisfied. Tav had lost count of the amount of peaks her pleasure had reached, but when she felt the shuddering climax of Astarion throbbing inside her, her head damn near burst. The white hot pleasure was followed not long after by the incubus adding to it, pulsing through the aftershock and leaving her entire body weak. It would have been impossible to say who won between the incubus and the druid, as Halsin roared like a wild beast the moment he felt his lover tighten around him with his own release. He held on tight to Astarion’s chest, soothing him through the intensity, pressing loving kisses across his shoulders and neck even as he was overcome by his own mind shattering climax.

— They almost collapsed in the aftermath, sprawling out across the bed, unable to form words, just sounds, the odd giggle as the intense pleasure subsided. Halsin gathered his lovers into his arms, one either side, and lay holding them close, soothing them and caressing them with gentle hands. Haarlep glanced down at the trio as they went to release Raphael from his bindings, even indulging him by carrying him over to the pool when his legs refused to stay upright. It took a while before the lovers on the sheets were ready to move to the healing waters, Halsin supporting them both with his arms around their waists, their own arms linking behind his back. Haarlep noted, with some approval, that the man didn’t even seem fully satisfied. They guessed he might well be able to continue far longer, had his partners had any ability to move at all. This would be something to consider later… They spent a long time resting, tending to each other, gradually coming down from the dizzying heights they had ascended to in Haarlep’s little game. By morning, a lot of exhausted but satisfied bodies were leaving through the portals, and barely any still had the clothes they arrived in. Fresh outfits had been laid out in each room, almost in anticipation of this very outcome. The sight of so many walking home might have been described by some as a Mass Exodus of Shame, but there was no room for shame in Haarlep’s domain. They smiled and waved, knowing their delightful little trick meant they wouldn’t need to feed again for weeks. Although, they wouldn’t mind a little treat …

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- -----------

If you're wondering "where in the hells was Gale for all this", honestly? He might've been accidentally left at camp. He got a one shot and a side story sequel later so I consider that I have made it up to him now.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #haarlep #bg3 raphael #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #a tav's guide #astarion #halsin #halsin x astarion x tav x haarlep x raphael

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empressofthewind · 4 months

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i've seen a few people posting submissions for the previous Meronia Event semi-recently since they're still open, so i'm jumping on the bandwagon and dropping a little excerpt here from the first draft of my last planned fic, that i never ended up finishing. the prompts for this one were hand & gun, which completes the bingo board!! 🎉

“You can hold it if you want.”

Near hesitated, eyes shifting between the gun in Mello's hand and his expectant stare. It was that very gun that had been aimed at his head less than a week ago, Mello's finger a millimetre away from killing him, and now Mello trusted him enough to hold it - not just trusted him, but wanted him to, if the increasing stain of impatience on his face was anything to go by.

Near took the offering and turned it over in his hands, studying the details. It was heavier than it looked; maybe a kilogram, if Near had to guess. Its body was mostly silver with a gold trigger and similar gold accents along the top and side of the barrel. A small Celtic cross charm hung from the grip by a chain, several centimetres in length.

He curled his fingers around the grip with one poised on the trigger and aimed it at the wall opposite him, making a small noise that mimicked the sound of a gun firing. Mello raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to teach you how to hold it properly?”

Near lowered his arm. “Sure.”

Mello shuffled closer and wrapped his own hand around the grip of the gun, over the top of Near’s. Near's heart rate spiked at the touch, and he watched in silence, equal parts stunned by the sudden contact and mesmerised by the quick movement of Mello's fingers as he adjusted the positioning of Near’s hand. Leaving his index finger on the trigger, Mello shifted Near's thumb higher and his other three fingers lower, just below the trigger guard.

“If you can, it’s always more secure to use two hands.” He retrieved Near’s left hand from where it hung limp at his side and placed the heel of his palm over the exposed section of the grip. His fingers naturally curled around it, covering part of his right hand on the other side. “See how your left hand gives it that extra support?”

Near stared down at the gun and nodded, opting not to mention that the two times he had seen Mello point a gun at someone, only one hand had been involved. Mello released his grip on Near and leaned back, and without the additional reinforcement, Near's arm immediately succumbed to exhaustion and dropped from its outstretched position. Instead, he held the gun low and close to his chest, aiming it at the bed beneath him as if intending to shoot a hole straight through the mattress.

Mello sighed.

“You have to keep it steady, obviously.”

Mello reached for Near again, this time wrapping one arm around him and holding it parallel to Near's. He was closer than he had been before - chest against Near's back, palm against the back of his hand - as he held Near's arm up on his behalf, gun now firmly aimed at the wall. He was so close Near could feel the rhythmic rise-fall of his chest, could hear the corresponding breaths as the air passed just beside his ear. It felt less like the guidance of an instructor and more like an embrace, an intimate touch, and that sensation was as foreign to Near as the gravity of Mars.

From the outside, Near might have looked more stable, with Mello holding his arm and body still. Internally, though, he had been thrust into panic mode; throat dry, stomach twisting, heart kicking violently against his ribcage. His thoughts were moving so quickly, they had blurred into one single noise, the grating buzz of static, and the only words he could discern amongst the chaos were Mello is touching me.

Mello.

“Do you want me to show you the proper stance too?” Mello asked.

It took every modicum of Near's self-control to keep his voice even. “No, that’s alright.”

#meroniaevent #meronia #my writing #it's been bothering me for SO long that i was only one fic away from covering the entire board #so even if this feels kind of hollow. it's nice to see it completely filled

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maisonaime · 8 months

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Ilithyia's Blessings - Part 4

I literally do not expect anyone to read this a mere hour after Miss Maas herself dropped the H-bomb on us, but I wanted to get this out into the ether before I lose myself in the next 900+ pages of her world. I promise after this chapter I will actually start fixing things rather than simply destroying them, but enjoy the demolition for now! ~2.2k words.

Warnings: depiction of a panic attack, fears about pregnancy/birth/motherhood, violence, choking, heights, family conflict, angsty, some would say a little dark

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3;

Part 4:

There was nothing above the din in her mind and the shattering of her heart amidst the blackness. She could not stop this path of destruction, couldn’t quell the fire spitting out of her, taking aim at every person she loved. There was deep exhaustion settling into her mortal body that her power just ignored, dragging her down from her chest to her knees as she curled in on herself and sank to the floor. She didn’t care if it stopped. She wanted to burn and burn until she blew away on the wind, at last settling into the dust her bones were wrought from.

Tarquin stood frozen in place as the black hole of power in the antechamber to his study churned and churned until finally, he decided he had to do something. Feyre appeared to be smothering herself with night once again, and that kernel of their shared power he had latched onto previously had spiraled completely out of his grasp. As his brain caught up with the events of the past 15 minutes – running at about a four-minute lag time – he was still trying to decipher if he had actually seen the unmistakable blue glint of siphons amongst the darkness.

Enough was enough. He had yielded to this display of power, yielded to his base instinct to help those who had nowhere to go, yielded to her highly unusual interruption of his Court, yielded to her request for asylum and anonymity.

All things that would probably see him split down to a molecular level by her deceptively gorgeous husband. Until he had learned of their pairing he had lusted after them both, and after? Well, what was unfolding had certainly not crossed his mind any of the many times he pondered what the Lovers of Night did with (and to) each other.

Enough was enough. She was entitled to her protection here, but if she wanted to rip open the bridge between space and time in his Court… she would at least need to step outside.

The High Lord of Summer steeled himself against the blackness and sent ribbons of water imbued with fractals of precious light from his palms. It wrapped itself in the same pattern as the chains of blackness had curled themselves around Feyre. Tarquin sent bursts of his power from his fingertips to propel the shards of light into the fraying enclosure. As the blackness began to dissipate like ink, he flinched to see Feyre thrashing on the floor. Panic washed into his chest as he worried she had seriously hurt herself, motivating him to push the last of the thick night away.

He quickly shifted the intention of his powers, allowing those ribbons to quietly reach Feyre and lift her off her feet, running soothing currents across her pulse points, gently uncurling her limbs and immobilizing her from further endangering herself.

Feyre was certain she had died. One moment she was keening against the ground, unable to breathe, the burning behind her eyelids and between her brow like iron ore being dripped into her brain. The next, she was weightless along the cool planes of Tarquin's power.

Only her mouth and nose were left exposed for air, forcing Feyre to refocus all efforts on breathing deeply as she was distracted from her mania. The silence that wrapped itself around her like a soft embrace nearly had her adding to the saltwater surrounding her. She hadn’t the energy to form a single thought, wisps of words and images stuck on repeat in her mind without taking coherent form. The confusion ebbed away into nothingness as she finally gave herself to the burnout.

She hadn’t told anyone, had felt useless to state such an obvious fear, but she was so scared to give birth. She was afraid she couldn’t do it, that the pain would be insurmountable, that her body would not obey her and she would lose control at the cost of her and the babe. She had been quietly doing her own research and found a healer who specialized in attending to laboring women for their emotional support, but she had told no one, not even Rhys.

It somehow felt silly to say that she was afraid to be in pain, though she knew that it went against every rational thought process. Of course, she was going to be afraid to be in pain, that pain would last for hours and would only escalate until her son was out. She was creating a new life and a task so important was bound to be hard and long and painful. And maybe that was part of it too, the part she really hadn’t found the words for. That she was afraid, not just for the pains of childbirth, but for the pains of being a mother.

That she would lay her heart bare every day of her child's life, allowing it to break over and over again without complaint. Being forced to watch the realities of the world claw at his dreams, reminding him of his essence while letting him change, one day watching him set off on his own without knowing what world he would face.

In the depths of the night when Rhysand would be so heavily asleep next to her that she could shield the bond without him noticing, she worried she might not be as ready as she thought she was, that she rushed into having a child with centuries still ahead of her. How could she hope to impart the same wisdom at twenty-one that she might’ve at one hundred and twenty-one? Had she ever stopped to consider living a life that was truly for herself?

She thought she could overcome it, the birth and the rest of it. With time. With her family. With Rhys. With a team of good healers.

And now she had nothing but herself. And the shattered promise of a son she may never get to meet.

—

No force on earth could stop the powers converging in the scummiest alleyways of an otherwise beautiful city. Save for a god unleashing itself upon Velaris there would be little to stop the cataclysmic implosion of the most important family in the Night Court.

Nesta was set in a dead sprint down the streets; hurtling through corridors and refusing to look back as she felt that cold midnight power bearing down on her, creeping alongside her as Rhys hunted her in earnest. Her rage had already dissipated, but the well of power churning inside of her sang with glee at the challenge. She had no illusions about being able to avoid the oncoming confrontation, but she prayed that some pitying god might allow her a last drink before her sure death.

Cassian was surveilling the city in a frenzy, staying close to the rooftops to avoid provoking his brothers' ravaging power as he trailed the plume of raw power hurtling toward Nesta. The notion of having to put himself between his brother and his mate, the sting of betrayal at the both of them for their actions, for their disregard. His chest felt like it was caving in with the dissonance, the knowing of what he might have to do.

Azriel was contemplating continuing his freefall straight into the Sidra and letting the current wash him away. Unfortunately, it seemed his new master did not prefer that course of action. He could taste her potent blood on his tongue. As if she were seeing through his eyes, thinking his thoughts, she spoke into his mind. Now Azriel, we can’t have that. He had the distinct sense his wings would continue flying with or without his will.

The new bond was more than chafing, it was blood-curdling. Where he had always hoped to hear his shadows sing, they now shrieked like the violent scraping of all the strings on a violin, like talons against steel, like a boy staring at his own hands on fire. Remember, you’re not to breathe a word of our secret, I expect not a blink or a breath out of place. He flew on.

Amren and Morrigan stood on either end of the alley that led to the entrance of Nesta’s favored pleasure hall from before her intervention. Varian was hurriedly canvassing the neighboring streets hoping to spot Nesta and give the two females warning, if only a few seconds. They had reasonably gambled that given that these few city blocks were the only ones Nesta had ever really bothered to learn, her feet would probably carry her there by habit.

And naturally, they were correct.

Nesta made her way around the corner, chest heaving as she slowed to a brisk walk and shrieked as Mor made to grab at her and winnow her away to safety. She lunged out of the way, only to back herself directly into Rhys. He landed and swept her into the air in a blur of wings and smoke so fast, that Mor could do nothing but stare at the space where Nesta had stood for fractions of a second. Cassian bleated like a wounded animal as he launched himself into the sky after them.

There was nothing but the wind in her ears, the burgeoning pressure of altitude and her power crooning for more, more, more.

They were hundreds of feet above the city when Rhys paused in the air and held her out in front of him by her throat like she were little more than a ragdoll. Nesta clawed at his arms and struggled not against his grip, but for more of it as her panic threatened to take over.

He sneered cruelly, bringing her close to his face. Gone was the male she had seen look at Feyre with such softness; like their souls were intertwined and carried on twilight clouds. Finally, a monster to rival the one raging inside her.

“If I have anything to say about it, you will never see your sister or our child ever again.” Rhys snarled.

That caused Nesta to pause, cold steel sweeping through her veins and into her irises. The silvery goddess in her spoke softly and with such venom that his grip softened just slightly in shock, preventing him from stopping what happened next.

“Neither will you” she leveled. Then she spit in his face and pushed herself out of his grip and into the awaiting sky. She was freefalling for mere seconds until she was in Cassian's arms as he hauled ass out of the city, towards the safety and coverage of the Illyrian wilderness.

—

Azriel landed at the River House moments after Rhys, having caught the brief skirmish between Nesta and Rhys in the sky. His heart had stopped as Nesta fell through the air, even as he saw Cassian moments from intercepting her.

He saw Rhys disappear from the sky and cringed as his power and voice flooded his mind. The house. Everyone. Now. There was no room for insubmission, it was a power Rhys rarely wielded over his Court. Azriel cringed at the realization that he was now bound to two oaths, even while betraying the one. None of Rhys’s authority over him had waned, independent of Feyre’s usurping thread to him.

There was no avoiding it, and he couldn’t give anything away by his behavior, so he landed on the lawn and stalked after his brother into the River House.

They had all reconvened in the study. Elain was wide-eyed and adding generous droppers of mirthroot tincture to each glass of brandy she had poured for the group. Mor leaned against the wall next to her, murmuring an explanation.

Amren was draped on the couch looking thoroughly fucking annoyed by the whole lot of them. Varian was perched behind her looking like he knew he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

Rhys had his head in his hands, his elbows perched on his knees as he sat in the middle of the floor. Everyone looking and not looking at him through their peripherals.

Mor downed her drink and grabbed a glass, bringing it to Azriel with narrowed eyes.

“And just where the fuck were you while we were dealing with all of this?”

Azriel took the glass and murmured a thanks. He brought the glass to his lips but Mor’s hand shot out and pushed his arm back, her eyes narrowed as she sniffed the air.

It happened too quickly for anyone to see, but the tumbler was shattered on the floor and Rhys had Azriel by the collars of his leathers, pressed against the wall so hard it had splintered to the vaulted ceiling.

“Azriel” Rhys said, his murmured growl barely audibly over the din rumbling from the depths of whatever cavernous power he possessed.

“Why do you have my mate’s blood in your mouth?”

Azriel shucked his siphons, letting raw power flood and fortify his shadows as they formed a shield around him. Fodder in the face of his second beast of the day, he wondered at whose rage would prove more destructive. At whose hands he’d be reduced to carrion. Or if perhaps, the two bonds would simply ribbon him.

He hardly had time to weigh his fates as Rhys hauled him by into the skies high above Velaris, into the cover of the clouds where no one could bear witness to the slaughter, save for the few curious gods.

And Rhys exploded.

#acotar #azriel #fantasy #acotar fanfiction #rhysand #cassian #acotar crack #inner circle #night court #feysand #feysand pregnancy rewrite #feyre pregnancy #feyre x rhysand #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #elain archeron #amren #morrigan #sarah j maas

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kingwiltcher · 1 year

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Violet Violence Chapter 1

"In a world of pure wreckage, where war reigns supreme, the bearer of the crown of violet will rise up and set The Awaiting Beast loose into the world, and The Old Faith will be annihilated. Take heed, ye skeptics, for thou shalt be hit the hardest when the day of reckoning come."

-Witness Allocer, days after the imprisoning of Ex-Bishop Shamura.

In the heart of The Gateway stood a grandiose temple. The temple of Narinder, the god of death.

Below even the very lowest floor of the temple, resided a singular jail cell. Completely cut off from any light or outside contact, only accessible to Narinder himself.

And in that jail cell, stayed a moth.

For the past however many years of her life, this moth had only seen the stained walls and grungy floors of her jail cell. She knew not her name, nor even the fact that she was a moth. She knew not her parents, nor the reason why she had grown up in this dark, cold, cramped space.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. For you see, every time this moth laid down on the floor to sleep, a being would come to her in her dreams.

An odd being.

A terrifying being.

A divine being.

This being would educate the moth as if she were a simple student to a teacher. They continually reassured the moth that she would be freed from the hellish state she lived in, and she merely needed to be patient.

This being was the reason why the moth had any sort of knowledge. The reason she continued living.

One day, the moth had just woken up after another meeting with the strange being. The moth had a heavy sense of excitement, as the being had told her that this would be the day she finally escaped. If her cell had ample space, she would’ve been flying around in pure excitement.

Before the moth could fantasize about her coming freedom, a hole in the ceiling opened. The moth assumed that it was time for breakfast. Unfortunately, that was as far from the truth as she could get.

A blood-red chain descended from the hole, one that usually held some sort of mold-ridden food, but this time, there was nothing on it.

The moth was confused, but her confusion would quickly turn into terror, as the chain wrapped itself around her body and began pulling her up the hole. The moth screamed in horror and tried with all her might to get herself free from the chain, but it was no use.

Soon the moth found herself inside the main room of Narinder’s temple. Her eyes were assaulted by the brightness of the room, an entire life of darkness having made her eyes extremely sensitive to any sort of light.

“Hmph, finally woke up did you? You worthless wretch,” A hushed, growling voice spoke.

The moth’s pained eyes eventually adjusted to the light enough to make out who spoke.

It was Bishop Narinder, looking just as the being had described him.

“I’ve decided that it’s time to put an end to your miserable existence. Leaving you alive is only going to give you time to fulfill that god-forsaken prophecy.”

Before the moth could say anything back, Narinder grabbed the end of the chain that bound her, and prepared to use it to slam the moth into the ground with it, the stiffness of his artificial arms causing him visible frustration.

The moth tried to brace for impact, but Narinder was too quick. The second the moth met the floor, her vision went completely dark, and her body was overcome with pure pain.

But this wouldn’t last long, however. As the moth soon awoke, finding themselves lying face down on a cold, purple stone floor. She stood up, and upon looking up, stumbled back and fell over once again, for standing before her, was the being from her dreams. A large spider, as purple as the stone floor, ferocious looking, yet beautiful and divine. By their sides were two more, significantly smaller spiders, their hands clasped in prayer to the one standing in between the both of them.

“Keeheeheeheehee….surprised to see me, little moth? I told you today would be the day you went free, did I not?” The being said, a fanged smile across its face.

The moth stood back up and approached the being, trying to find the words she wanted to say, but she was quickly intercepted once again.

“You have many questions, and fear not, I will answer them.”

“I believe it is time I finally inform you of my name, I am known as The Awaiting Beast. It is a pleasure to finally see you in person, my student.”

“Th…Th..Thank you, f-for-”

“There is no need to apologize. The pleasure is all mine…now…why are you here? Well, you have been killed.”

“Huh? But you told me today was the day I was going to be freed!”

“Well, you are no longer in the cell, are you?”

“N-No…”

“Indeed. But since you are dead, that freedom means nothing. But, do you remember that request I made of you a while back?”

“You would continue teaching me, but in return, I would set you free from your prison?”

The Awaiting Beast nodded, as their smile grew wider.

“But, how do I free you? I’m just a moth.”

“Well, that’s what I was about to introduce to you.”

The Awaiting Beast reached to the top of their head and pulled down a strange, black object, the top of it looked like a crescent, and in the center was a large, purple eye. The Awaiting Beast held the object as far down as they could, the chains clasped to their wrists made them unable to hold it completely to the moth’s level.

The moth approached the object curiously, which floated downwards in front of her.

“I bestow upon you The Purple Crown. Go on, put it on.”

The moth quickly placed the crown on her head, and suddenly her body was overcome with magical power. A purple haze clouded her vision, and when it went away, she felt and looked completely different.

The moth’s dirty fur had seemingly been scrubbed sparkling clean, and had turned from grey to a light purple, and her wings had grown significantly, as well as turning a dark purple, and along with that, she was now wearing a regal purple dress with blue accents.

“Keeheehee…well, how do you feel?” The Awaiting Beast asked.

“I feel…powerful…amazing…like…like I’ve inherited all of your knowledge.”

“Keheheh, perhaps not all of it, but you have a decent amount of it. But that is not important. I dub you; Viola, Bearer Of The Purple Crown.”

“Viola…that..is a wonderful name for me. Thank you, my liege.”

“You are quite welcome. Now, you are about to be revived, so I’m afraid our time must end for now. But fear not, for the one reviving you will be able to give you further instruction.”

As The Awaiting Beast finished speaking, another purple haze began to fill Viola’s vision, and she felt herself being pulled upwards.

And thus our story begins.

#cult of the lamb #cotl #alternate #alternate universe #au #cotl au #cotl oc #swap au #cotl witnesses #witness allocer #cotl shamura #shamura #cotl narinder #narinder #Shamura is the one who waits

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talesofmetalandmagic · 1 year

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BadThingsHappenBingo – Episode IV

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: League of Legends (Shurima)

Characters: Emperor Omah Azir, Nasus

Prompt: this is for your own good

Synopsis: Azir’s nightmare is over – after completing his torturous indenture at Xerath’s temple and buried alive inside a sealed coffin, the ex-Emperor is welcomed by familiar arms and readied for the comfort, healing and care he’d longed for and needed. But the scars left by the Magus Ascended are greater than they seem.

In the early days, a prisoner at the quarry in the scorching sun, Azir had believed Xerath's plan to be simple.

An Ascended in rags, who spends his days in fatigue and his nights in humiliating solitude, lives constantly immersed in pain. Pain in the heart and in the head, pain in the mouth and in the thoughts, pain even in the future. He didn't hear the coffin close – he didn't even know he was inside a box, except after many headbutts and empty kicks – but he understood, after hours, maybe days, locked up in the dark, with the spiked belt so tight that it pierced even the muscle, that pain was its life now.

But now it's over. Everything will change. I am with Nasus, my protector, and when I recover… oh, Xerath will have to kiss my hands, and wet them with his tears as I have.

It’s such a beautiful fantasy that, as soon as he was freed, he seemed to touch it with his hand. It was a girl who delivered him from the coffin – a proud daughter of Shurima whose grace has not been touched even by the Void; she did not recognize him, and her manners were harsh, but like caresses compared to Xerath's. She gave him water to drink, a shady place to rest – water and shade, the mothers of life – and a non-imperial cloak, but of good quality, to cover the misery of her tortured and plucked body.

And when Nasus held him again in his arms, on that warm, furry chest where he sought refuge when his entire family was ripped apart piece by piece, he had felt happiness so close.

But without touching it, no. A moment later he had shifted the cloak, and the luminous eyes of his teacher had descended on his body, wrapped in the rags of the same cassock that Xerath had placed on him more than a year before; on his chest protruding through the holes in the canvas, his ribs showing under the patches of plucked and shredded skin. The swollen dewclaws – pododermatitis, the plague of hawks – but of real ones, not the Ascended ones like me, who hurt even just resting on the sand. One shoulder higher than the other, where he held up the heavy stones of the temple; the crooked and blunt shape of the beak, the swollen and bleary eyes, the wormholes sharp against the flesh – it hurts when he breathes, they are devouring him, you like divine flesh, you scoundrels. He squeezes Nasus so hard he can hear him whine, but he doesn't dare pull away.

It's as if he still had the casket on, chained heavier, thicker by the second. Don't leave me, I don't want to sink. He can't do that, he's an emperor, Sivir is watching him. What will she think of him, so prostrate.

Don't forget, my greatest granddaughter, that I was taken prisoner because of you. You are my debtor. But Azir remains silent, because Taliyah is watching him too, and he really doesn't want to feel guilty. Though all she's said to him since her tough Voidling friend has wandered off into the sunset has been “Make yourself comfortable, Azir. You will have everything you need to heal. Your troubles are over."

Well. If the little girl is going to promise him a safe haven from that year of torment, may it hurry and get there. At the moment it is enough that Nasus is at his side, because his careful hands make even the worms in her body less painful. The sun is setting, and Shurima is so beautiful, caressed by the sunset, that he almost regrets retiring inside his tent to let a hot bath strip away the remains of that terrible year.

Not even my tent is imperial. A bed of furs and cotton, with a single pillow, a clay tub to wash the face, a foldable stool instead of a bedside table, a handful of scented candles for atmosphere; and the bath in which Nasus helps him settle down is a wooden tub covered with a sheet, a far cry from the plated metal tubs of his old travels. When she leans back against it something moves under his flesh, and it stings so deeply that Azir lets out a shriek.

-What do you want me to do with this unworthy dress?- Nasus lifts the ragged, musty tunic he's worn all that awful year with his fingertips. Azir clenches the edges of his beak. -Burn it. Toss it in the fire. I don't want to see it anymore.-

-You will have much more suitable clothes after your bath, I assure you. Young Sivir has procured for you a regal linen robe, hand-embroidered, and a soft, warm silk and pearl shawl. That girl has a thousand resources.-

How precious, she gave me a gift. HIs best descendant hasn't forgotten who she's dealing with. Getting back into his imperial fineries should help him recover, to see himself when he looks in the mirror. Everything like before. How it was supposed to go.

Now think only of relaxing, my lord.- Nasus drags the ragged robe on the ground, leaving a furrow in the sand. -Hot water will invigorate you. If you want, I'll give you a massage later. Think of the good things that will come and everything will seem sweeter.-

Nasus disappears over the edge of the tent. Azir closes his eyes - it's dark, and the wind whipping the walls of the tent is the only way out of the silence. He opens his eyes again, panting against the hot water. With the corner of his eye he sees the Curator opening a medicine box and pulling out bottle after bottle of all the essences he’d bathe with back home.

And yet, not a word comes to his beak.

He didn't make me sad. A pair of maggots float to the surface of the tank: Nasus scoops them up with a slotted spoon and throws them into a jar hanging beside him, but Azir has seen them all right. I am without happiness.

-You like it?-

No, I don't like anything. The water is soft, against the skin, and glides naturally under the feathers. His good teacher has also brought a massage brush, how nice; but on the other hand, bathing the Emperor is not the job of the Curator of the Sands. He's an Ascended, no less than him. He wants to tell him to leave, but being alone makes him shiver under the hot water. He gives him a nod, but nothing more.

-My Lord…-

-Go ahead. I still smell like that box.-

Nasus sighs, squeezes his shoulder. Azir retracts into his feathers. Why am I afraid of him? He wants to help me, he cares. Xerath's lies ate his head like maggots, and he still feels their bites in his flesh. He relaxes in the water, watching him work. He files the sides and the tip of its beak, until it regains its usual wedge-moon shape, and rubs its pierced surface with sweet almond oil. He combs the feathers on its head, nape and shoulders, plucking the ticks one by one; he crushes them behind him with a flat stone and rubs each of the sores with hot wine. Then he moves on to his arms, and having reached his hands, he files and anoints the broken nails one by one and wraps up the blackened one of his thumb with fresh gauze.

I'm coming home. That splendid teacher is ripping Xerath from his skin, one piece at a time. But if so – he would like to tear his feathers out of anger – why does he still feel so empty.

-Hey.- The jackal-man's soft hand strokes his chin and lifts it up. Another order from Xerath, keep your head down at all times. You are not worthy to hold your head up. Who do you think you are, the Emperor? He strokes her cheeks, smoothing out the torn, skeletal feathers.

-You are still beautiful. A splendid royal hawk.-

Stop it. I know flattery when I see it. He has a terrible headache, he just wants to sleep, but he already knows that the worms and larvae will torment him. Nasus smiles at him, his childhood smile. -I understand that you are saddened, but it won't take long for you to recover. You have the strong backbone of your family.-

That is dead. Azir places his hand on the edge of the tub for the Curator to caress it. What soft fingers. His fur makes them even more delicate. They are made for beautiful things, those hands: playing the oud and the benet, writing treatises on history and philosophy, embroidering the finest silks and painting portraits of the royal family in lapis lazuli, purple and gold leaf. He shouldn't pluck insects from the dry feathers of a walking falcon carcass. Nor should he…

Azir closes his eyes, he can't help it.

-Nasus?-

The Curator stops massaging him and moves in front of him. -Yes?-

-My spurs hurt so much. Look at them, please. I think it is…-

-I’ll bring you a support, my lord.-

Nasus carries a sackcloth pillow and rests his spurs on it with the delicacy of one holding a crystal. He still hurts, but he tried. He bows his head, looks at the soles of his feet. The Curator of the Sands' face twitches. -Pododermatitis. My poor little bird…-

Nasus shakes his head, draws back, wipes his hands with a rag. -I'll take it off right away, don't worry.- he turns his back to him and opens the box at his feet: the blade of a box cutter sparkles in Azir's shiny eye, and he sweats cold again.

-Couldn't we do it tomorrow?-

-I'm sorry, my lord. The infection should be eliminated as soon as possible.-

-Your Emperor orders you not,- Azir murmurs. He doesn't have the right tone, the tone of command. If he had spoken thus to Xerath he would have slapped him to tears, starved him for days, chained him in the sun, sealed him in that awful falconry hood, or beaten him to the sand with his royal blood. Nasus should obey a whisper from him, be loyal to him. He really can't have lost that much.

-My lord.- Nasus sighs, rubbing his forehead. -I beg you. I do it for you. You will suffer more if you do not let me act now. I'll try to hurry, limit the pain.-

Limit the pain. Xerath would never accept something like this. And with each breath the lumps on his dew-joints ache more, swollen and hard as boulders. Azir dips a towel in warm water, dabs his sweaty forehead – hawks don't sweat, they shouldn't – and he drops onto the pillows.

He nods.

When Nasus finishes washing his paws and pulls his leather gloves on, Azir looks away.

-Do not be afraid, my eyes. It's just a small cut.- he touches the injured part with the tip of his index finger; Azir seethes, for it burns.

-Take it slow, please.-

-You'll be better when I'm done.-

It's the during that I don't like. He still had his baby teeth when his dour father taught him how to deal with footpad dermatitis in hawks. He seems to hear it, close to his ear: one hand on his shoulder, the other on the wand of punishment. Don't get distracted, Azir. One cuts on the leg of the bird of prey with a sterile blade, at the height of the swelling; then the sides of the bubo are pressed until the infection crawls out, and it is bathed in hot wine to clean the wound. Only then, if the Solar Disc is merciful, can the bandage be provided.

-Do you want something to hold in your beak? Or a sleeping pill, to feel less.- Nasus asks. Azir shakes his head. Let it not be said that the Emperor of the Sands is afraid of pain.

He has two lumps on his left toes and a bigger one on his right where the three dewclaws meet at the ankle. The Curator addresses the smaller ones first; he rubs the meat with hot wine, warms the blade in the flame of one of the candles to keep it sterile. If he didn't know what was coming, Azir would be delighted to watch him work.

He almost doesn't feel the cut, from how thick the bubo is on his paw. As Nasus' crooked fingers approach his paw, pressing the sides of the wound, Azir tilts his head back and clenches his fists in the still warm water.

-I'll do it as quickly as possible.-

-Better for t- AH!-

The pain travels up the paw and bites like tiny teeth into the cartilage. Something thick and soft descends along the skin of the spur, immediately picked up by the rag soaked in wine. Nasus rests it on his arm and rests his fingers again on its edges: Azir contracts, closing his beak.

- Ouch! Slowly, damn it!-

- Breathe, my lord. This is almost done.-

Azir clings to the sides of the tub until the wood creaks and he has to let go. Why doesn’t my master want to help me either... but it's a fleeting thought, which he suffocates shivering in the warm, perfumed water. Nasus has been looking for me, he loves me. He can't be foolish enough to believe that medicine is painless, not even three thousand years later.

-A deep breath…- says Nasus. Azir inflates his lungs and opens his beak, while Nasus' fingers press against the cartilage. Something bursts in the lump on the paw, a pain that sinks deep into the flesh. He'd scream if he didn't know that Sivir and Taliyah were sitting out there having a non-Imperial conversation, and he knows what ideas he'd get if he heard him scream like a capon.

And so it is that when Nasus returns to crush the wound, Azir grips his beak so hard that gristle dust fills his palate. A mouthful of bitter flour. Then he’ll wrap them up for me, and I'll run again like a true warrior.

The knife sinks again, something thick and sludgy slithers down his talon. Azir squeaks. -Stop it, stop it!-

Nasus slams the knife against the edge of the tub. -Not that I enjoy it, my lord.-

-Someone else had enough fun.-

Nasus takes a deep breath. -Don't treat me like I'm Xerath. I want your good.-

-I said I don't want to!- Azir hates feeling like a child throwing a tantrum, but asking nicely doesn't seem to touch the Jackal's ears. -Why don't you respect me either? Have I lost so much authority?-

Nasus takes a deep breath, baring his teeth. He takes off his gloves, wipes his hands, and sits down on the stool beside him.

-I know how you feel. Even the older ones find themselves in situations they can't control.-

Azir closes his eyes, shrugging in the aromatic tub. Not even his favorite perfumes – they are all there, even the very rare irises of Icathia – are able to restore his old skin.

-It’s all so strange.- Even the pain in the buboes, where Nasus pressed hard, is slipping away. If Xerath were there, he'd do one of his damned tricks and plant that pain in his flesh forever, until he forgot he wasn't born with it. And then he’d probably hood him for good measure.

-I can't imagine being here,- he murmurs. -Free. With one of my dearest.-

Nasus's white teeth peek out from under his hairy muzzle. How many kisses did you give me when I was little. He touched it all the time, laughing, so soft and wet. It wasn't proper, much less imperial, but he liked it.

-Me neither, honey. I believed that…-

Do not say that. There must be something in his eyes that frightens the curator if he stops talking and looks away. Motionless, breathless, Azir watches him breathe – his muscles are so tense that they seem to tear, and not seeing his face is wrong.

You too, my sweet curator? You too, I made suffer so much?

But Nasus calms down, sits down again, and smiles at him as if they were still in the old days.

-Let's not think about it, my eyes. We’re safe. You’re free and you are with me, and I will help you rise to shine again.-

They are nice words, but meaningless. It's as if Nasus is talking to someone else who isn't there; even being moved, somehow, as if he cared. Impossible, for a wise man like him – but Azir, who has a headache the more he tries to think, sees no other explanation.

-It hurts now, but it's the prelude to a great rebirth.- Nasus rinses his gloves with a flask and retrieves the wine-soaked rag. He wets it until it drips and goes back to dabbing at the hot spots on the buboes. -You will heal, and you’ll be better. I'll give you a massage later, if that pleases you. I will wrap you in warm linen and lay you down in the warmth. If you want, I'll prepare you something to drink or eat.-

Azir would like to answer, but he has no words in his parched throat. He would like to yell at him because – because he is doing it, that wonderful sweet healer who already raised him with his real parents, receiving in return a pain that would break a whole mountain. He is no longer the emperor, or at least he doesn't seem to be. He hasn't been there in the three thousand years of agony that ruined him, to hold his hand and keep his fractured mind afloat. He didn't give him anything.

Yet he’s here. And his mouth trembles – which is hardly imperial.

Azir swallows, clutches the wet rag in trembling hands, and looks away from the first smile of his life.

-Let's go ahead, please.-

With the wound clean, Azir looks at his bound spurs as if they belonged to someone else. He would like to have real feet, to cover them with shoes or at least socks, and not having to see yet another shame before his eyes. Even the bath water is getting lukewarm, and he's going to have to go out soon. It would be the last word, to be carried in his arms by his master.

-Now, now.- Nasus snatches the blood-slicked gloves from his paws and throws them onto an empty plate. He wets his paws with more water and dries them staining the rag red. He sits down behind Azir, so that his chest is behind his head. It's softer than his pillow.

-You have been very brave, my lord.-

Courage is shown in battle, leading an army or running an empire. It's clear that Nasus wants to flatter him, but whatever Xerath kept saying, he's not stupid. The Curator wraps his shoulders in a cuddle and kisses the nape of his neck with the soft canine muzzle. Azir feels a knot of tears rise in his chest: he stiffens, he mustn't go out. Nasus has to rely on him, as does everyone else.

I am the Emperor. I am the Emperor. No, you're not, Xerath says deep in his heart. He's been hearing that voice the whole time, locked up in the box. All your fault, you deserve it all. He rests his head on Nasus's chest and basks in it, clinging to his warmth like a security blanket.

He wanted to save me, he cared. It's because of Xerath that he didn't find me.

-It's all right, my little one. All right.- Nasus hugs him tighter, his hairy cheek against Azir's feathered nape. -Tonight you will sleep in a nice warm bed, and tomorrow a delicious breakfast awaits you. You will have silk robes, jewels, all the equipment of an emperor. I also have a tiara, if you like.-

But what's the use, my Nasus, if I'm no longer worthy to wear them? Azir hugs his master even tighter, and the jackal-man's steady hands massage his shoulders. No, you don't have to. You're the Curator, and an Ascended, not a run-of-the-mill servant.

Certainly it is no more shameful than what he did.

He slips out of the tub, clinging to his caretaker's steady hand, his muscular arm supporting his armpits and back, his bandaged spurs pulsating at evert breath he takes, and lets Nasus wrap him in a sheet warmed by the bonfire.

-You will be well, my lord. I promise you. I won't leave you anymore.-

We'll be alone then. Azir rests his head on his shoulder, for the second time, and lets his protector's hairy arms surround him like precious armor.

#league of legends #lol #azir #emperor azir #omah azir #Nasus #lol Nasus #Sivir #Taliyah #Xerath #bad things bingo #bad things happen bingo #azir’s new groove #cw: foot injury

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helicrazy · 2 years

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“This is him then... The one who nearly took your helm off?” A jet with a camo-like paint job questions as she approaches her boss while holding a data pad. Beside him is a teal and purple copter with his servos tied up and hanging from the ceiling of a vast dimmed lighted warehouse. Everything between his smashed visor and mask down to the shotgun wound on their waist has either been dented, broken, or beaten severely.

But hey, the one audial is still playing his tunes, so it’s not all that bad.

Dissect me 'til my blood runs Down into the drain My bitter heart is pumping Oil into my veins

The four-wheeled leader huffed as he turned to look at his right hand. His iris servos are covered in bright pink blood along with splatters across his chassis and face. “The very one. What did you find about him?”

The jet gets closer and stares at the hanging mech, completely unfazed by the scene. To her, it’s just another day at the office. Upon closer observation, she can see a stab wound in the purple mech's throat, precisely where the voice box is located, and can only assume that he was ‘too chatty’ and annoyed the iris mech to the point that he can no longer speak. “You’re not going to like it.” She states before lifting up the pad to read the patch of notes again.

“Spit it out.” The boss growls while looking back at the copter, a servo clenching into a fist when catching him smirking at the jet’s response.

“His name is Vortex and... he’s one of Onslaught’s mechs sir. Thus, I highly advised we let him go or we are putting a huge target on our backs.”

I'm nothing but a tin man Don't feel any pain I don't feel any pain I don't feel any pain I'm rusted from the rain

The vehicle’s engine revved hard. Not enjoying how the copter’s upper frame was bouncing up and down as if he were laughing. Taunting him like he had all the power and is now safe. “No.”

The camo flier vents in deeply. “Look, we can still fix this. We can say it was a simple mistake, that we got the wrong copter-”

“It’s not Onslaught’s style to send one of his after some drug supplier, this seemed more... personal. Besides, this mech had this coming after slicing my neck open and bringing cop attention to my business.” The vehicle growls then swings his clenched servo right into Vortex’s waist, breaking right through the damaged plating from the gun earlier and managing to sink his digits inside. The moment he feels them wrap around something he viciously rips it out. “This is his own problem. His mistake for coming after me in the first place.” He lifts the fuel tank up, crushes it in his grasp then tosses it aside before turning back towards the jet.

Go on, crush me like a flower Rusted from the rain Come on, strip me of my power Beat me with your chains

“Get the guards outside to depose him. Do what you can so this doesn’t trace back to us.” The boss commands, pulling a rag out to clean off the energon on his servos and frame while stepping away to leave the room.

The jet nods, typing away on the data pad to notify the 2 mechs before glancing over to the copter. The hole in his abdomen area is massive and almost deep enough to see the endoskeleton inside.

She hums then turns to make her leave as well. “It was nice to meet you Vortex.”

And if I'm the king of cowards You're the queen of pain I'm rusted from the rain ⁱ'ᵐ ʳᵘˢᵗᵉᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵃⁱⁿ

#ic status #Plot: Another Way Out #tw: gore

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yeonzzzn · 6 months

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another beginning: sim jaeyun

a break the chain series: two / seven

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 3.2k

synopsis: with the boys and their mates preparing for war, old memories stir up for jake being in the castle, causing his focus to be else where besides the problems of the future. you try to bring him back to reality and face the past head on for the sake of a another new beginning.

genre: established relationship, vampire!jake, half-vampire!reader, angst, suggestive themes.

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood + death, mild sex scene at beginning, pregnancy mentions, jake is kinda disassociated, lemme know if I missed anything lol.

prt 1: vampires bleeding | prt 2: you complete me

“Jake,” you breathed, your nails digging into his biceps, “Babe.”

But your mate wasn't listening. His hands gripped the bedsheets as his hips rocked against yours, “You feel so good, my Luna Nova,” he whimpers in your ear, his lips kissing the shell of your ear and trailing kisses down to your neck, “Can’t get enough of you.”

You felt his fangs pierce your skin, digging into your neck just below your jaw, “J-Jaeyun!” you tried to keep the moan to a minimal level, your hand squeezing his biceps even tighter.

He sucked the blood from your neck, his moans vibrating against your skin as the iron liquid slipped down his throat, “You taste so good too, half breeds are on such a different level.”

You winced at his words, now tapping his shoulder, “Jake, listen to me.”

He pulled his fangs from your neck, tongue pressed flat against the wounds to soak up any blood that spilled out before the puncture holes sealed. He groans and rests his sweaty forehead against yours, “I’m listening, Luna Nova.”

You knew he wasn’t entirely listening, his mind was so far off on another planet that you weren’t even sure if your words were reaching him.

His dick twitched against your walls, “Fuck,” he hissed, moving his hands down to your thighs and wrapping them around his waist, “Squeeze me, babe.”

You didn’t. Instead dropping your legs to his hips, hands cupping his face, “Look at me, Jake.”

He finally opened his eyes, the crimson so dark yet so bright at the same time, so full of lust and loss. The man on top of you wasn’t your mate. The man you loved was so far buried beneath.

He kept up his pace, eyes staring deeply into yours, “I can still get pregnant, Jake,” you whispered, his dick twitching once again, signaling he was about to burst, “We need to be careful.”

Jake just shuts his eyes, “I want you pregnant. A cute little half-breed running around sounds so fucking good to me.”

“Babe, no,” you quickly said, “We can’t have a child with a war approaching.”

The war. This castle. The two things Jake wanted to forget about. He didn’t want to fight another war. He almost lost you once because of one, he can’t do it again.

But your words brought him back to earth and he slipped himself out, now rubbing himself against the skin of your stomach, releasing his load.

With shaky breaths, Jake rolled onto his back, resting his forearm against his eyes. You glanced over to him, noticing how his free hand gripped the bedsheets. You wanted to hug him, tell him it was going to be okay. But you knew with the thoughts racing in his mind, nothing would help.

Jake felt you shift on the bed, looking up at you just in time to see you walk into the bathroom to clean up the mess he made on you. Jake rolled to his side, staring at your naked body, taking in every curve and angle. His dead heart did flips and then sank at the realization you would still age. Slowly, but you still would. He would eventually lose you someday. It might not be now or even a couple thousand years from now, but he would. He wanted to find a way to keep you from aging, same as your twin brother, Archer. Just to keep you forever. Maybe the witch or elf might know something.

Jake continued to watch you move around the room, gathering your clothes and pulling them back on your body, wrapping your arrow bag over your torso and the bow strapped to your shoulder, “Where are you going?” Jake asked.

You pull your hair into a ponytail, “Jake, we need to get back. The others probably know we are missing by now.”

Right. The war training.

Jake sits up on the bed and scoots to the edge, pulling his boxers and training pants up and over his hips.

You walked to the door, taking one last look at him. Seeing how lost he was in his eyes. Your mate wasn’t here. And you didn’t know how to bring him back. You quickly slipped out of the room and headed back to the shooting range.

—

Jake ruffled his hair as he stood beside Jay, letting out a massive sigh.

“Dude,” Jay hissed, taking a step away, “You reek of sex.”

One thing Jake—and pretty much the others along with him besides Niki—learned is that sex smells are amplified with a mate, making it more clear to other vampires or mythical creatures that said creature is mated. You also didn’t know that, being that you only were ever around your parents, twin brother, and previous mate. If your family noticed, they never said anything. It’s one major reason why all seven boys and their mates all went separate ways after the war with Dorian ended, none of them could handle the smells. Poor Niki and __.

Jake just stares off to the floor and shrugs, “What's a man to do?”

Jay glances at him, “Dude, what is wrong with you?”

Jake ignores his question, lifting his hand and looking around the fighting gym. There were multiple different kinds of weapons in here, from different sword types, daggers, knives, chains, whips, bows, and arrows, the list goes on. Leave it up to the castle of the vampire king.

“Where’s Hee and Won?” Jake asked to change the topic, not seeing the leader or king anywhere on site.

Jay fully turns to Jake, crossing his arms, “Meetings with the royal guards and shit, don’t ignore my question.”

Jake continued to ignore him, glancing around the gym. Sunghoon stood in front of a wooden dummy, dual-wielding daggers and slicing cuts on it. Sunoo stood with your twin brother, Archer, fists raised and practicing boxing moves. Niki had a long sword in hand, more or less swinging it around doing cool tricks than practicing with it.

The mates were on the other side of the gym. You were teaching each of the ladies how to use a bow and arrow—showing each of them the basics of holding it and how to pull back the string with the arrow, teaching them how to mark the target and release the arrow.

Jay followed Jake’s glances to each spot he stared at in the gym, “Stop ignoring me.”

“I’m not.”

“Jake,” the older said, stepping in front of him, “Is it YN? Are you worried?”

Jake shrugged. He wasn’t so much worried about you fighting in this war against Lilly. He was scared to lose you, yes, you were already taken from him once. But you fighting? Nah. Jake knew you could hold your own.

Jay sighs, “It’s the castle, isn’t it?”

Jake went still, holding his breath. Vampires didn’t need to breathe, obviously, it’s just something the turned ones still did to stay connected to their human selves, Jake assumed.

“Want to spar in the ring?” Jake asked, pointing to the fighting mat and walking away.

Jay followed behind him, thinking of how he was going to settle this one.

You weren’t the only one who had noticed a change in Jake since being here. It’s been a little over two weeks since arriving here and Jake has done literally everything he could to take his mind off the current issues. Trying to bury himself in something—more specifically, you—to keep his mind busy enough to forget everything else around him, completely being disassociated.

“Come on, man,” Jay scoffs, “Talk to me.”

Jake lifted up his fists, getting into a fighting stance, “I don’t have anything to say.”

Jay mimicked his stance, “I think you do.”

Jake was not getting pissed off, taking the first swing at Jay, but he dodged, quickly whipping himself behind Jake, knocking his knee into the back of Jake’s sending him down the mat, Jake’s knee barely hitting the rubber material before bouncing back up and lunging at Jay.

“You can’t even fight properly right now!” Jay snapped, “Can't even focus. You’re not here!”

“Shut up and fight me!” Jake snapped back, pushing Jay away from him, “Less talking.”

“No, we’re talking!” Jay rushes back at Jake. His arms wrapped around his neck and flipped him over. Jake was quick to recover, getting back on his feet before touching the ground and getting out of Jay’s grasp, “You can’t keep avoiding this!”

“I’m not avoiding anything!”

“Yes, you are!” Jay grabbed ahold of Jake’s shirt, and pulled him nearly inches away from his face, “You keep disappearing when you’re needed! and you always slip out halfway through meetings! It’s like you don’t care!”

“Shut up,” Jake warned, his fists grabbing a hold of Jay’s shirt too, “shut…up.”

The other boys could sense something was wrong through the pack bond, their eyes glancing over at Jake and Jay, not being sure whether to interrupt or not.

“No!” Jay hissed through his teeth, “You need to accept the past, need to fight through it!” Jake shook his head, his fangs slowly coming to a point and his eyes burning crimson, “You can’t keep burying yourself into YN either!”

“I said SHUT UP!” Jake yelled, trying to push Jay away from him but failing. Causing everyone’s eyes in the gym to look in their direction, “Don’t talk about my mate!”

“You don’t think we don’t notice it? Huh? How you are using her to distract yourself? You think sex is going to fix it?” Jake knew being balls deep inside you any chance he got wasn’t going to fix anything and was only a temporary distraction. He wasn’t purposely trying to use you, he fucking loved you for fucksakes, mated to you, sex was natural for him with you, but with being here…the memories…

Jake screamed, using all his strength to push Jay away, “I FUCKING SAID SHUT UP!” He wasn’t thinking clearly, he needed help, needed these memories to go away. To stop haunting him.

“Jake!” Jay yelled back at him, “You need to accept the past!”

“NO!”

The memories all came flooding back to him. From the moment he was created to the moment Heeseung killed the previous king and escaped with him and Jay.

The memory of the pain he felt when the old king bit his shoulder, sending every ounce of venom possible into his bloodstream. The old king left him alone on the floor as his body slowly turned, his fangs coming to a point as he clawed at the wooden floor of his once home, having no choice but to watch as the king fed on his family and then killed them.

The memory of all the innocent people Jake killed, and the smells of their blood filled his nose as he drank from their broken bodies in his arms. The smell of fires burning the bodies, watching as the old king laughed as the burnt flesh smell filled the air.

Memories of meeting Jay and Heeseung for the first time. They tried to save him, but Jake was not listening, always trying to find ways out of the castle, but the king was always finding out and punishing him. Breaking his bones one by one in front of all his followers, in front of Jay and Heeseung, and leaving him in front of the castle for his body to heal on its own through the painful process.

Every terrible memory flooded Jake's brain all at once, he fell to his knees, covered his ears, and screamed.

Archer was at Jake’s side instantly, “Jake, man, stop!” Archer pulled his hands off his face, “It’s just bad memories man!”

Just bad memories??

Archer might not officially be a part of the pack, but since he’s your twin, and felt everything you did, he had some ties to the pack. Specifically more with Jake than the others since he’s mated to you.

“Bad memories?!” Jake growled, shoving Archer away from him, “What the fuck do you know about bad memories?!” Jake stood to his feet, shoving his index finger into Archer’s chest, “Why the fuck are you even here man?! This war has fuck all to do with you!”

Archer gritted his teeth, fangs coming to a point, “Because I am here to protect my sister, something YOU should be fucking doing!” Archer slapped Jake’s hand away, “You need to get your shit together!”

Jake’s head spun, as his pack surrounded him, each of the boys calling his name and speaking to him at once. The memories of everyone watching as the old king broke his bones came back, he felt suffocated. His breathing became uneven and the world spun. He was having a panic attack.

“Jae!” your voice called to him. His vision was blurred as he looked for you, pinning his eyes on each person around him. But then he felt you, your head on his chest and arms wrapped tightly around him.

Tears filled his eyes as he dropped to the floor, you going down with him. He pushed you away just enough to bury his face into your chest, sobs left his lips as he gripped the back of your shirt. No one has seen Jake like this since Dorian took you away from him.

“Jae, it’s okay, I am right here,” you whispered into his ear.

His sobs slowly quieted down, taking deeper and deeper breaths until his body stopped shaking. He lifted his face up to look at you, to confirm that you indeed were right in front of him.

Jake looked around at his pack, his family, seeing the looks of sadness that they all gave him, and then noticing Jay was missing.

“Jake,” he turns to his left, seeing Heeseung, Jungwon, and Jay standing beside them. Heeseung eyes were soft as he looked down at his brother. Heeseung felt the pain Jake was in the moment he felt it, he was rushing out of his meeting with Jungwon at his side and seeing Jay rushing in at the same time. “Jake…” Heeseung whispered again.

Jake’s anger was back, hating the way his king, leader, and brother looked at him, “Stop looking at me like that!” he snapped.

E appeared from behind Heeseung, “You will not speak to your king that way!”

“E,” Heeseung warned, holding a hand up to him, “stay out of this,”

Jake was back on his feet, “I don’t need your guy's pity!” he scoffed, quickly making his way out of the gym, “You and Jay know the shit I had to go through! Stop looking at me like I am some lost dog!”

Jake broke out into a sprint, leaving everyone behind.

Your own tears started streaming down your face, you didn’t recognize that Jake just now. Heeseung knelt down at your side, cupping your face with his hands, “He needs you,” Heeseung swallowed back his shaky voice and tears, needing to be strong in this moment, to play king even when he didn’t want to right now, “please bring our brother back to us.”

You nodded at your king, quickly standing and running out of the gym.

—

You found your mate sitting in the corner of your shared bedroom at this castle, his eyes darting to you the moment you walked in. His body was slammed against yours immediately as the door closed. His tears stained your shirt as his hands gripped the back of it, “I am so sorry, baby please I am so sorry.”

You held him tightly, “Jake, what are you apologizing for?”

He took a deep breath, “For being too weak to accept the shitty things that have happened to me here. For not being strong enough for you. For taking my frustration and anger out on you in the way of sex to disassociate from reality.”

You held him tighter, “Jae, it’s okay. This place holds so many bad things, you have every right to feel like this. But I need you to talk to me so that I can understand and help.”

The last thing Jake wanted to do was talk about it, but after what happened today, he knew he had to.

The two of you sat on the edge of your bed, you held your mate's hands as he went through the motions of telling you everything. From how he got turned up until escaping the castle. The horrors Jake had to deal with, the memories that constantly filled his mind being at this castle. It broke your heart. Jake kept talking, going into the war with Dorian, the pain he felt losing you. That emptiness he felt. You felt it too when you were away from him, but you were more at ease, knowing that Jake was safe.

Jake continued, going on about how with this new war starting he realized how little time he had with you, that you still aged even if it was super slow, and how he would lose you one day. You’ve thought about it too. You already lost one mate and it killed you knowing Jake would someday have to feel that pain.

You released your hands from his, cupping his face, “Jae, we still have so much time, we’ll find a way to keep me with you forever until the end of time, okay? You’re not weak, but the strongest person I know. Not every vampire has come out of this hell you’ve been put through. You had Heeseung and Jay to help get you through this, they are probably struggling just as bad as you, and it’s all okay. The old king is dead, and Heeseung is doing his damndest to make sure the past stays there. We are all here for you, we love you so so deeply.”

Jake nodded. He knew Heeseung was struggling, probably the most out of him and Jay. Jake just felt so weak being the only one letting it show. But after telling you everything, that weight on his shoulders was gone. And he was fully ready to accept the past as the past.

“This is another new beginning for us,” you softly smiled at him, “We’ll get through this, together, just like before.”

Jake pulled you in and kissed you, savoring your taste and smell as it filled his senses, finally pushing away the horrible past that took over him. He rests his forehead against yours, “I will fight this war, do everything I can to protect you, to protect our future,” his thumbs rubbed against your neck, “My sweet, sweet, Luna Nova.”

“My sweet, sweet, Jake.”

He kissed you again, but chuckled against your lips, “You sure you don’t want to make a half-breed baby?”

You shoved your mate, “Maybe after this war. Maybe.”

Jake tackled you to the bed, kissing down your neck, “But I want to right now.”

You giggled, tilting your head to give him more access to your neck, “You’ll have to wait.”

Jake hummed in a pouty way, digging his fangs into your neck.

This Jake, your Jake, was back. You knew the others could feel it down the bond as well, that their brother was back and happy…and that he was currently digging his fangs into your neck and stripping your clothes from your body as your blood went down his throat.

But that’ll be a conversation with them for another time. Right now only Jake mattered, only the two of you mattered as he pressed you to the sheets, giving every ounce of love to you.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @belowbun @jaeyunq @rikizm

— tags: @jwnghyuns @en-happiness @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @honeybunnee @jaklvbub @nshmrarki @seunghancore

#breakthechain #jake bby #sim jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jaeyun sim #sim jake x reader #reader x sim jake #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #established relationship #vampire au #yeonzzzn writing

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kittsyspaw · 9 months

Text

⌇Hajun (Joker) x F!Reader x Wooin (1)

Push me down, hold me down. Spit in my mouth while you turn me on I wanna take your light inside. Dim me down, snuff me out. Hands on my neck while you push it out and I'm screaming out „Give me tough love” ୨୧

╰┈➤ One of the Girls- The Weeknd

WARNINGS !! : Best friends to possible lovers, love triangle, mature themes, cringey jokes and fights, Wooin possible yandere behavior, angst kinda, Y/n rejection phobia (AGAIN, IM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ) and this isn't edited.

Your ears were deafening the screams and cheers of the people surrounding the chained ring, uninterested, you sat on a couch that was placed a bit far, some feet away from the huge bar that also collected some buyers.

They were betting again.

The screen of your phone reflected in your eyes – you were playing your game peacefully, ignoring whoever was getting punched or who was punching.

The person next to you, your childhood best friend, who was also the one who convinced you to join the 'Sabbath crew' had his legs wide open, scaring any boy who wanted to make a small talk with you with those snake-like eyes of his, sucking on a lemon flavored lollipop.

"I know exactly you're not playing Roblox right now, are you?"

"...no, I'm not."

Wooin raised an eyebrow at you, scooting closer to look at the screen, scoffing when you quickly backed away, hiding your phone from exposure.

"You're playing Royale high!?"

"So what?! You wanna play with me or what? The only reason why I'm here is to wait for Joker."

The boy with piercings crossed rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you towards his body.

You tsked when hearing the loud announcers voice boom in your ears, a ringing beating in your ears after a victory tune played off.

„Flawless knockout!! What else did we expect from The JOKER”

"Can he like hurry up??"

"He can't, he's a turtle."

"He's faster than you??"

"No??"

"Yes??"

Putting a leg over the other, you leaned your head back, regretting that decision immediately when the lights of the ceiling blinded you.

"I'm here."

"Thank god! I was losing braincells with this dude."

Wooin flinched at your sudden outburst, oh, Joker was already here, he was grinning, until he realized what you just said.

"Wow! What an amazing friend you are, Y/n."

A vein popped on his forehead as you turned around to look at your best friend, almost cracking your neck up at him.

He had baby blue colored hair, a scar running down from his bottom lip to his jaw and a tattoo under his eye, right, you loved getting lost in them for hours.

"Don't come here again, its too dangerous for you."

Joker took your chin between his thumb and index finger when you looked away, you were used to it, but it still made your heart skip a beat, panicking.

"But I wanted to see you."

"Don't I always visit you after?"

"..."

Wooins existence was completely ignored and he hated that, pinching your waist to make you turn your attention back on him–only to be met with a harsh slap on his shoulder.

It wasn't very effective but it made him laugh.

"Whatever, let's go before I pinch your ass next Y/n."

You were rethinking all of your decisions back then of befriending this motherfucker, seriously, he's so weird. The atmosphere didn't lighten one bit, oh yeah, Joker was still behind you guys, with his expressionless face.

"Are you finished Joker?"

"Maybe not him but I'm about to–"

A death stare made him smirk like crazy, Wooin loved that face of yours, it made him excited.

Why couldn't there be a black hole that just swallows Wooin forever and shuts him up? You are 100% sure that the world would come to its peace if he, for once held his mouth.

You liked Wooin more when he's on mute. Jk

"I'm done. come here Y/n"

"Yessir!"

Wrapping your arm around a more muscular one, Wooins face of jealousy was quickly replaced when you grabbed him by the hand so he tagged along.

୨୧

Joker was munching on his red apple, the juice of the fruit exploding in his oral cavity with each bite he took, his eyes were draped on your figure, gossiping with Wooin in the front seat.

"Damn...she had prove too?"

"I know right?"

He swallowed– startled when you turned your head to look at him, at the fruit in his hand specifically, gasping. "Share some!"

"This was my last."

"Give me a bite."

He held up his tattooed arm, the apple in his hand and you wrapped your smaller hand around his wrist, taking a huge bite out of the red fruit.

Flabbergasted, Jokers lips but no words came out so he finished his snack off.

"Y/n. He allowed a bite. A bite. Half of the apple is gone. Please elaborate."

"Iwm hhgungry."

Wooin sighed, starting the engine of the car so he could go buy something for the three of you. "What do you guys want?"

"I love you so much I could literally smooch you right now. Get me a double Cheese burger and a large milkshake."

"Burgers."

Wow, its the personality switch for Wooin. Whatever, you were allowed to do that. "I expect my kiss." He left the car, getting inside the place.

"Joker."

"Hm?"

The male waited for you to turn around and lock eye contact with him. "You know what im thinking?" he stopped himself from smiling.

"Yeah."

"You drive."

He shook his head and you gave him a big, sad frown. "Let's wait for him to get us the food first, then we can leave without him."

Your face beamed, the boy still held no expression, maybe its the small things that you didnt notice... The way his eyes softened.

His large hand was placed ontop of your head, automatically matching the smirk on your own face. Partners in crime.

"He's back."

You looked in the direction Joker was gesturing to with his a simple glance of his eyes, it was none other than the black haired Wooin, holding plastics bags with one hand and a cup with the other.

"My Milkshake!"

You took it from him as he handed the bags over to the other person in the backseat. You sipped on your drink, moving your legs up and down happily.

"Let me try."

Was this Jokers revenge? You handed him the Milkshake receiving the food you told Wooin to bring you.

"Say aah."

The driver complied and you fed him some fries and Jokers eyes lit up. "Me too, I want fries."

୨୧

You all went to your apartment when tho you had no plan if letting them in, you allowed it just for today. "Touch anything and I'll kill you."

This was meant specifically for Wooin who had a habit of snooping and sniffing around your stuff like a damn dog.

The place wasn't too small or too big, it was perfect. You were met with a corridor that led to your living room where a punch bag sat from the ceiling.

It was for Joker but he set it up in your house because he wanted to teach you how to defend youself.

Joker made his was to the fridge, putting in the rest overs of the food and taking out three red-bulls, giving one to Wooin and the other for you.

"Here."

"Thanks babe"

You blew him a kiss, walking inside your room to change, not noticing the way his eyes lingered on you for too long until you shut the door of your room.

Wooin soon exited the bathroom just as you left your room. "So are you two sleeping over?" One agreed in he speed of light, cutting the other one off.

Guess who was who. "Then go fetch your clothes from my wardrobe, Wooin I'm warning you. Joker, baby, can you help me?"

This wasn't the first time they slept over, they've been doing it since years so you had collected some of their clothes on that journey.

"Oh and, Joker don't forget to text your brothers that you'll be staying here."

He nodded and stood up at your request, entering your room so he could get the mattresses for him and Wooin who was getting their clothes.

"Why didn't you ask me for help?"

"Wooin. You have the build of a 5 year old, you're barely 5'10ft tall."

"Because that length went somewhere else."

You clapped your hands one time. "Alright! Thats enough bullshit for today, see you–" a pillow thrown at your face cut you off.

"Oh now you're getting it you midget."

The pillow was thrown right back at Wooin who caught it while sitting. And it went on like that between you two until you had enough, storming towards him to smash it against his head.

Joker sat on his phone, texting his younger brother–Shutting the device to be met with a scene of Wooin laying on top of you, his head on your chest.

But wooins slender arms wrapped around your torso, tackling you to the ground. "Get off me! You're heavy!!!" You whined, hitting his back with small fists.

"But I thought I was small?"

He was acting so arrogant!! Your legs were kicking up and down beside his body were squashed you to the floor.

A loud scream made the dull Joker purse his lips, you bit Wooin, his hand to be exact and it made him sit up so you took it as a chance to crawl away but fingers wrapped around your ankle.

"No!!! Joker help me!"

A evil giggle left your lips when a strong force almost made your attacker fly, it was just a cushion that hit his face.

You hurried to Jokers embrace from your childhood friend, sitting on top of his lap so his arms naturally wrapped around your body.

Wooins gaze burned blank before he returned his signature feature, his smirk which was awfully forced. "Let's watch a movie!"

The pool of jealousy that he swallowed down started to take action inside him when you didnt move, only turning around, still with Joker, big arms locking locked together beneath your chest.

His fists clenched but he kept his cool, why wouldn't you realize that it bothered him to way you flirted with Joker? Maybe it was taking him time to realize it himself?

Wooin was trying his best with you but you only saw him as a player, it wasn't like this when you two were kids, you loved him back then, attached to him at the hip while peppering him with kisses.

Everything he went through, you stood by side. His fragile heart that was protected by a cage that he build up only beat for you.

"–Wooin?"

No matter how many women tried, he only saw you.

"Wooin!!"

He looked up at you, now realizing that you were standing in front of him. "You wanted to watch a movie, right? Get changed I'll go get some snacks!"

Joker had already changed, when did he even get the chance?

୨୧

School was calling your name, two days had passed since your two friends slept over, the day after that you three hung out at random parks and you just let them doing their own things.

You hated that deal that they were upon, about the race and everything, they were giving out some drops that could increase your ability when racing.

They were just dogs for that white haired weirdo who made them test them on people, you didnt say anything and stood far away when they did.

Sanghoe, he tried to lure threaten you into also giving out these dopes but you didnt listen to single word he said, slamming the door in his face that night.

There was once a time where you spoke to Wooin about it but he wasn't even trying to listen!! So you just cut it out, knowing that his stubborn ass wouldn't take your advice.

Just the thought made you angry, you hated it when someone took a blind eye to something that could be and IS dangerous.

You pat Jays back, he has been stressing ever since Shellys friend from England came to visit her or whatever was going on.

His name was Owen. Most of the girls were swept of their feet when they saw him, you couldn't say he wasn't handsome, because he was.

But he just...wasn't your type.

Shelly stomped in the classroom, running over to your arms. "Y/n please keep me from exploding like a Volcano!!" You smiled weakly, your eyes landing on her friend who entered after her.

Oh. Owen had a big thing for Shelly but she didn't like him, being together with Jay and all but for some reason he never understood that.

You also hated people like him. Was there something fogging their brains or what?

To best honest, you thought they were siblings or twins at first...

୨୧

You had duty to clean up today so you texted Joker that you were gonna go home by yourself but he insisted to pick you up after even though you told him not to.

It was so hot so you untied your tie, opening the first few buttons of your white shirt that was beneath the blazer of the school, the tattoo above your heart peeking out a bit.

You, Wooin and Joker had the same tattoo done at the same day.

Exhausted, you opened the windows so air could refresh the disgusting classroom, cleaning the desks one by one before moving to the board that was whitened up with the chalk.

"Hey"

Your heart almost flew out of its place, you turned to the direction of the sound and there he stood, the Blondie who was head over heels for Shelly.

"What? "

Embarrassed at your accent while speaking English, you continued to wipe the gigantic board, not paying attention to him.

"You're close to Shelly, right? "

"Yeah, why? "

The male looked sorrowful, sitting on one of the desks as he watched your form as you jumped a few times to reach the highest part of the board.

"Just wondering..."

"Wait, can you wipe the top part? "

A figure towered over you, the eraser being taken from your hands as Owen helped you, taking the job because he reached the last part.

"...what does Shelly see in Jay? I'm much more handsome than him! "

He backed away and you seeked for a joking look in his face, but he wasn't. "Your attitude, its good to be confident, but fix it."

Owen looked at you like you just murdered someone. "What's wrong with my attitude?! Its perfect! I'm perfect! "

"Right, then how about you grow some balls and ask her yourself? Can't you see that she's dating him! Obviously she doesn't want you."

You scolded, placed your hands on your hips, glaring up at the male whos gaze was now on your opened shirt, noticing the tattoo.

"Bye."

Was the last thing you said before disappearing, leaving Owen behind. His hand brushed back his air, anger showing on his features.

୨୧

Joker leaned against the wall, waiting for you to get out of the school. The moment you did, he fixed his posture, taking a few steps towards you.

His eyes slid down to your exposed skin, his eyebrows knitting. Joker tugged on the red fabric, pulling you closer so he could work his way to close your shirt, with you wailing.

"No, its too hot..."

A glare was send your way and you put your warm hand over his cold one, showing him that you weren't freezing at all.

"Its cold. Now get on."

Jabbing his thumb in direction of his motorcycle, you took the helmet, wearing it then got on behind Joker, holding onto him.

It was like a needle that landed on your skin, an icy one, followed by many after it and soon it was pouring. The rain didnt stop as the sky got darker, the only source of light being other cars, the motorcycle, some lamps and signs that were discarded for people to reach a shop.

You rested your head on Jokers back, fluttering your lashes shut as you enjoyed the nice breeze, the constant droplets ringing into the music of cars beeping and tires screeching against the road.

You guys came to a stop and you were convincing Joker to come in with you because he could catch the flu by the way both of you were drenched in water.

He gave up eventually, allowing you to drag him inside and listing to your instructions as you told him to take off his clothes at the do step, not wanting to wet the carpet. You took off your uniform, wearing your leggings beneath.

Joker looked away, stealing some glances only to focuses on the floor again as you guided him to your room, leaving the boy at your bed with clothes as you changed in the bathroom, coming back with towels.

"Let me dry your hair."

As the cloth absorbed the rain water from his fluffy hair, the doorbell rang for you to go and open it. "Wooin? get inside, you'll get sick!"

You took the boy in, his hair was sticking against his forehead as hard breathes left his lungs, checking you out under those fogged glasses of his.

Wooins shirt stuck to his body, leaving an imprint of his abs visible for the eye, his gaze was hazy and you shivered at the contact of grasp on your face.

"Get me something to wear, will you?"

You nodded, Joker exiting your room to see a wet Wooin, freeing his body from the now tight shirt as he replaced his friends place in your room.

Wooins muscles flexed as he dried up his own hair, his glasses long discarded on the table next to your bed. "Y/n you're a life saver."

"What did I do?"

"Live close by, that's what. I was about to become a block of ice!!"

Your lips curled up in a smile that had Wooin linger his eyes on, wondering how his heart hasn't just cut through his flesh and seated itself on your palm already.

You were about to walk away but a strong grip kept your place, your childhood friend made you close the gap between your bodies, hugging you as if you would vanish like a ghost the next second.

Fuck...the way you ran your sweet hands through his damp hair made Wooin clench his jaw, why couldn't you be like you were back then?

It hurt him. It was ripping apart the strings that his most important organ was attached on.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you kept stroking his head, two strong arms slithering around your neck made you gasp.

Jokers body heat collided on your back as he hugged you, face buried in your shoulder, blue hairs tickling your face.

You were sandwiched between the two, heart pumping like crazy, there was Wooin who's skin was like snow when touching with yours and Jokers whos was the polar opposite, scorching like a erupted volcano.

Wooin was trapped in a white bubble, a train of thoughts kept him intact of reality. You stopped getting close with him after he started going and 'sleeping' around with girls.

But oh he could swear he never kissed any of them, he was seeing you whenever he went out with someone. They were simply a cheap placement of you to play out his imaginations on, to feel the love that you weren't allowing him to take from you.

He could die, he wanted you to touch him. He was desperate to feel you, but you acted so oblivious to it, it made Wooin angry.

However, Joker kept his feelings to himself, locking them inside his chest, using the concrete wall he built, denying any of the admiration he had for you.

Maybe he was overdoing it, but you saved him, Joker felt free when he was with you. And he prayed that that would last forever.

He tried keeping his cool but you never failed to make butterflies flutter in his chest, your smile made him drown, choking every time you flashed him one.

It was hard for Joker too, trying his best not to just cage you against the wall and decorate you with kisses and marks to prove others that you were his and his only.

You were perfect for him, worrying and reminding him about his brothers, sometimes going over to his to cook for them and help around, even when he didn't ask that from you.

Joker wanted you for himself.

But that wouldn't work. No, he wasn't stupid, he noticed the way Wooin treated you in comparison to all the other girls and boys (even Joker himself got a different treatment) he toyed around with.

The way Wooins cunning personality just withered away, the way he showed his true colors when he was with you.

Joker knew that him and Wooin only felt safe in your arms.

And yours only.

Nobody else could make these two turn into putty in mere seconds other than you.

You want something? The next day it was in front if your door. Someone bothering you? They were dealt with personally. Feeling sad? Two warm hugs + cuddles, snacks and movies on their way.

It wasn't just you who got this treatment, but you returned every action they gave you. Your door was always the only one who was open for them.

Joker and Wooin could always tell you anything without feeling suffocated or regretting it.

You just understood them, and they understood you.

You were like the middle puzzle piece that held them together. The three of you were always matching, no matter what.

Now...It was scary, none of you able to speak about your true intentions.

These two were idiots if they believed that you didnt like them. You didn't what to hurt anyone. There was a decision to be made.

But you didnt want to decide, can't you have them both?

You loved Wooin, not because he's your childhood friend but because of how he treats you like you were worth more than a gem.

He was so gentle with you and you physically and mentally felt it. And Joker of the way he is, caring, always thinking of you.

Joker wasn't the richest and you know that, you didn't even give a fuck about those things but the fact that he tried made you melt.

He looks like he could murder (and would) but he was one of the sweetest people you knew, he didnt show it but his actions did.

There wasn't a time where you were left out when with these two. Joker and Wooin always made sure there was a space between the two for you, whether in a cinema, restaurant or a simple walk.

The familiar taste of metal made you swallow hard, blood seeped out of the rip of flesh while you bit down on your lips, licking it away with your tongue but it kept appearing to the surface.

The hug was broken apart by the boy sitting on the bed, the one behind you following after. You didnt know why you felt so empty, like a shell with no insides. The sad feeling made it hard to breathe.

You plopped down on your bed, hiding your face in the pillow, you were scared, you didn't want to ruin the relationship you had with them.

Scared of rejection.

They probably didn't like you, seeing you as a friend only. You hated this need of dragging yourself down to a standard, keep your delusions to yourself.

You felt a small shatter in your weak heart, did they love you or not? Because you think you're an idiot for liking them both.

But how could you not? Affection from others didn't work either...it was only like this with Wooin and Joker.

Closing your eyes, you felt the bed dip, an arm around your shoulder and a body laying next to yours.

Another person laid next to you on the other side, you could hear their heartbeats from here...it made you relax, stimulating your overworked brain into deep slumber.

"She's asleep."

"Hm."

"Joker?"

The boxer made a humming noise, he never took his eyes off you, your back moved along with the movement of your lungs, exhaling...inhaling sluggishly.

"I think I love her."

Well, he wasn't expecting a confession right here, right now. "She's my childhood friend. I don't care if a billion people also do,"

wooin sat up, looking Joker dead in the eye, the usual, scary glint that swirled in his eyes making the baby-blue haired male zip his lips, "Im gonna make her mine. I hate sharing but... If that's– never mind, forget it."

Now Joker was left perplexed as Wooin reconsidered his words then went to sleep, maybe this was a sign for Joker to allow his body to rest...eyeing you until his brain also shut off.

He was getting intoxicated with the smell of flowery shampoo that come from you, overtaking his senses and Joker was waiting for you to appear in his dreams tonight again.

Grrr should I continue this? I want to make a smut part but like...idk

Anyway, I hope you liked this and sorry for any mistakes!!

#joker x reader #manhwa #windbreaker #joker windbreaker #x reader #wooin windbreaker #wooin x reader #jay jo x reader #jay jo #ignore the rest of the tags #tags for reach #jjk #anime and manga #boxing #smut #long post #divider by cafekitsune

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glacial-snowflakes · 2 years

Text

Freak // Eddie Munson x Y/N

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Wheeler!reader

Word count: 1,09k

Summary: Being tired with the way you're boyfriend is treated force you to take action.

WARNINGS: some swear words, minor spoilers

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. It’s really motivating <3

Some people are like open books, but not Eddie Munson, no. His heart was wrapped with a thick chain secured with a padlock, and only a few individuals had a key to it. You, obviously, were one of them - Y/N Wheeler, this year's graduate and a dear girlfriend of his.

Eddie never liked to brag about his personal life, so not many actually knew you two were in a relationship. You were his greatest secret that he promised himself to take to the grave with him. Well... Maybe not that dramatic, but he persistently tried to keep nosy students away from your love. Number one of the reasons was his not-so-saint reputation, and he didn't want you to become a target of snarky remarks. Though he'd managed to succeed for quite a time, it all collapsed in a blink of an eye. But that wasn't his fault...

"Enjoy your meal, dear."

You've heard the kind voice of a cafeteria worker as you got your last piece of lunch placed on your tray. You thanked her with a smile and immediately headed down to the table you'd sat at from the first day of school. Your friends were already there, gossiping about the last basketball match.

"Y/N, what do you think?" Vickie asked you as soon as you squeezed between her and Robin.

"About what?"

"Yesterday's Jason speech."

"And his gooey love confession? Or using a tragedy to encourage the team to win a game? Because the first one made me want to vomit, and the second made me almost rip my ears out. Fucked up." You poked a hole in a juice with a straw.

"So you share our views." They laughed.

"The devil has come to America. Dungeons and Dragons, at first regarded as a harmless game of make-believe, now has both parents and psychologists concerned." A familiar voice reached your ears and caught your attention as you were about to take a mouthful of a bun. Like magic, a broader but still subtle smile appeared on your face. You completely zoned out from conversation by your table. Instead, you focused on an article that your boyfriend read aloud to Hellfire Club's members.

"Studies have linked violent behavior to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide, and even... murder!"

Eddie's laugh was enough to turn your head towards his group. You noticed your brother sitting by the table with Dustin. He gave you a look that said, "get lost, sis.". We'll see who'll give you a ride to the arcade next time you ask. You thought to yourself and stuck your tongue out. You'd probably make some faces to each other if not your boyfriend, who suddenly got on the table and distracted you from the teasing.

"We're the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game. But as long as you're into band... or science... or parties... or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets-"

"You want something, freak?" Jason instantly stood up, taking a few steps toward Eddie. Oh boy, the troubles begin.

Now everyone was watching the two of them. As you predicted, Munson didn't give any shit. He raised his hands to make devil horns on his head, spluttering with his tongue stuck out from his mouth.

"Prick," Carver said before heading to his seat.

And before you could even think about anything, words shot out from you like your lips were the rifle aimed at your biggest enemy. "Oh, fuck off!" All eyes were on you now, whether you liked it or not. There was no way out, so instead of running away like a coward, you got up from the chair you'd been sitting on and faced Jason.

"What did you say?" The team captain looked at you.

"Don't act like you didn't understand. Stop saying shit about Eddie."

"Or what?" Jason got closer to you. Sudden chairs' movements were heard, and all the Hellfire Club got up like they were about to have your back. A loud thud meant Munson jumped off the table.

"Y/N-" Eddie tried to catch your attention, but you waved at him to make him stop.

"What "or what"? Do you think I'm threatening you? I'm not that stupid. Don't be a dick and fuck off from Eddie, that's all."

"I think you actually are dumb, Wheeler." You extended your arm to stop your boyfriend and brother from rushing to Jason. "He IS crazy."

You glanced at Eddie, who looked angry, ready to fight for the woman he loved. For a moment, you thought he acted foolishly. Not him wanting to protect you but being willing to throw hands, knowing well that the whole basketball team would beat the shit out of him. That's when you realized...

"You know what?" Your eyes went back to Jason. "You're right. He is crazy... But in a good way. This is what makes him so attractive. Not that you can relate. You, Jason Carver, are like a poorly written character that is so perfectly boring. A golden boy without any flaw that thinks of himself as the best. In fact, your personality is dull, blank... And, honestly? Listening to you makes everyone want to puke their guts out." Students burst into laughter. "Without further due, leave my boyfriend alone and get lost because now my lunch is cold because of you."

The word boyfriend traveled from mouth to mouth like a ping pong ball bouncing back to back during an intense match. To be frank, you couldn't care less. You were finally free. There was no need to hide anymore. Whether Eddie liked that or not, it doesn't matter to you.

You kept your eyes on Jason, not letting him win this fight. You were done with the way he treated someone so important to you, someone, you loved so dearly.

"Y/N." A quiet whisper rang into your ear when the arms wrapped around your waist. Munson pulled you away because he knew you. You wouldn't back down so easily. "For someone who doesn't like to make scenes, that was quite a spectacular one." You could feel Eddie's lips brushing your ear.

"I told you, there was no need to hide our relationship. I can protect us both."

Your boyfriend chuckled. "You're right. I was stupid."

"No, I'd say you were crazy." A broad grin crept onto your face.

"Crazily in love with you." Eddie winked, trying to sound as cute as he could.

"Ew, Munson. That's gross."

"Ew, Wheeler. You're right."

tag: @eddie-munsons-sweetheart @eddieemunson @beauty-in-the-brkdwn @dragon-ash13 @notafinalgirl

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader

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lordabovehelpme · 2 years

Text

Until Him - Jake Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Hey all! I know it’s been like fifteen years but I’ve been super busy and will probably stay super busy. But I wrote this out last night after thinking about it for days. I hope you all enjoy and thank you all for all your support, it means a lot to me. I love you!

Summary: He’s all bronzed confidence, a stupid fly boy you should hate. Yet, you can’t help the little thoughts that plague your mind.

Warnings: f! reader, kissing, mentions of violence and panic attacks, angsty ending

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Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to hold him. To reach out and run your fingertips across his brazen skin. To trace along the dips of muscle and curves of his form. To take him into your embrace and hold him tight.

It’s a lost thought, but you wish you could run your fingers through the strands of his blond hair, too perfect and too neat. To pull parts free and release him from the chains of impeccability. Hold his head against your chest, let him hear your fluttering heart in exchange for the closeness of his form, the comfort his weight can bring.

What it would be like to hold the side of his jaw, feel the strength as it flexes in your palm, see the pink lips that are slightly chapped. Feel the apple of his cheeks when they stretch to show his dashing smile, all sparkling white teeth with the one small chip in the bottom, thanks to a metal gate in his childhood on the farm.

You often wonder about touching your forehead to his own, resting your heads against one another, a simple and intensely intimate gesture. To lock eyes, to share a million words through a single silent glance. To watch his green eyes flutter closed, long eyelashes soft, the delicate skin of his eyelids stretched. To lean forward and feel the warmth of his breath wash over your face. To slowly press your lips against his own.

He would be a soft slow kisser, you know it.

To run your fingers along his arms, down the sun kissed skin pulled taut over strength and overwork. To find the little faint freckles that map across his body like tiny constellations, tiny stories of the life he's lived and how he's grown. To reach his palm, five fingers full of dexterity and ability. The blunt tips of his nails, the few hangnails, the calluses on the pads.

Intertwine your hands, let him completely envelope yours, let him run his thumb along the meat of your palm. Let him bring it to his lips and press a long kiss to the top of your hand. Let him gaze into your eyes, his own swirling with warmth and worship and just love.

His kisses would speak a thousand words with one touch, you know it.

You wonder what it would be like in the mornings, soft light flooding the room, vision hazy before the world seemed to be awake. The warmth of his form next to yours, chest rising and falling, blond lashes closed and lips slightly parted.

Maybe one arm would be wrapped around you, maybe his legs would try and tangle with yours, maybe his arm would be behind his head. It’d be perfect. Him shirtless and warm and snuggly.

You didn't find chest hair attractive until him.

You’d let your eyes rake over him as long as you were able. Burn his form into your memory, when he’s soft and sated and the facade is torn down. The hid away boy, full of love and life and excitement brought out from his hole for you to see.

He would slowly stir, waking up and smiling once realizing you’re next to him. He’d turn into your form, tuck his head away into your neck and breathe you in. His fingertips would trace the tip of your ear, find purchase on the back of your head, hold the weight in his palm.

He’d press a kiss to your neck, a kiss to the spot beneath your ear, a kiss along your jaw, another one for good measure, a kiss to your cheek, up to your temple, over to the midst of your forehead, down to the spot between your eyebrows, down to the tip of your nose.

Your cheeks would already be aching from the large smile on your face, your heart bursting beneath your chest, your hands running along the strength of his arms holding him above you.

A kiss to the corner of your mouth, another one to the other corner, down to the base of your chin.

“Jake, please.”

He wouldn’t say anything, but a chuckle would rumble through his chest, his eyes still closed.

He would brush his nose against yours, rubbing it back and forth like a dog until finally he’d be fed up with his teasing and press those plush lips against your own. You’d instantly relax into it, your head falling into his palm, his lips curling up into a grin.

When he pulls back, you’re all giddy and happy and his eyes would fall onto your face, full of mirth and adoration, that dashing smirk proud on his face.

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re pretty.”

Your eyes would roll and your cheeks would be set ablaze, but you’d wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down for another kiss, and another after that.

His kisses are addictive, you know it.

You can’t help but to watch him at the Hard Deck, watch him in training, listen to his voice over the comms.

The confidence, the pride, if only it was directed at you. If that teasing grin would be held for you. If his voice would call your name. If those green eyes scanned and searched for yours. If they would light up when they found your form.

You didn’t find hot shots attractive until him.

God, what it would be like for him to saunter over, pull you into a hug, not paying attention to anyone else. For him to whisper in his ear how happy he is to see you, how much he missed you. To press a kiss to the spot beneath your ear, soft and delicate and private. The little shy boy uncovering his head for only a quick second. Then he’d press one to your lips, loud and riveting and showing the world who you belong to, all macho confidence.

He’d love showing you off, you know it.

But the coldhearted boldness, it’s an act, something that makes it easier for him to work through the stress. It reassures him, it’s something he can control in a world where you can never rely on anything.

You wonder what it would be like to say to him it’s okay, it’ll be alright. To hear the same words echoed back.

We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.

To be able to break down the thick stony walls of “hangman” and meet the well mannered, kind hearted “Jacob Seresin.”

He has the biggest heart, you know it.

To be able to run to him in the middle of the night when your thoughts can’t slow down or stop. When fear rears its ugly head and rules your emotions. When the things you’ve done come bubbling up to the surface.

For him to open his arms, let you hide away in his embrace. Tuck yourself away from the thoughts, away from the world, away from war. Anchor yourself to his heart, let your soul tangle with his.

He would lean his head on top of your own, his hands would rub up and down your spine, he wouldn’t say anything, he wouldn’t need to.

He already knows what you need, what you feel, what your heart breaks for, you know it.

He wouldn’t let go until he was sure you were okay. Even if that meant pulling you into a warm bath and keeping you firmly tucked into his chest. Even when you teased him about just wanting to see your boobs to try and lighten the mood.

You wonder if he’d ever let you do the same. When the confident mask cracks, when the little boy, afraid and small is left vulnerable, if he would run to you. When the silent tears run down his cheeks, ones he can’t hold back no matter how hard he fights. If he would let you brush them away, if he would let you rub the knots from his shoulders, if he would let you coo into his ear.

You never wanted to care for someone until him.

But you can’t. It won’t happen. It’s just a fleeting thought.

He’s untouchable, off limits, not safe.

The confidence, the personality he’s given himself is one where no connections are formed, no bonds.

You’ve done just the same.

It’s easier that way, less painful.

When it’s flags that come home instead of smiles and laughter, when parents can no longer hug their sons and daughters, when the deepest bonds are severed permanently.

It’s easier that way, safer.

No one to count on, no one to fear for, no one to lose.

So as you watch him laugh with the others, when you feel your heart reach out to him, you can’t, you know it.

It’s all just a fleeting thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There! I hope you all enjoy! If you did, please let me know by leaving a comment or reblogging. I might write more for him so we’ll see. :)

As always,

Love, Lordy :)

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#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman #hangman x you #hangman x reader #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun x you #top gun x reader #glen powell #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

tame.

| zemo x reader | smut |

anon requested. bratamer!Zemo or something with Zemo and spanking

cw: spanking, whipping, degradation, gagging

“Turn it down, draga!” Zemo snapped, throwing his office door open to reprimand you.

You were stretched out on the couch, starburst candy in your mouth as you kicked your feet to the beat of loud bubblegum pop music.

You’d already been told twice to turn it down, and Zemo was at his wits end with your obnoxious behavior. He was in meetings, the underlying bass of the songs interrupting his important business.

“I did turn it down.” You rolled your eyes, practically sneering at Zemo.

“You keep up this attitude, and you’re on your way to my wrath,” he warned.

“Whatever,” you turned onto your back, draping your head off of the side of the couch.

He stared at you, trying to let his fury simmer down. He finally pulled the plug on your stereo, plunging the room into silence.

Zemo ignored your glare, unable to put up with your bratty behavior any longer. He returned to his office, apologizing to his client. They finished the meeting, and Zemo had his secretary cancel the rest of his schedule.

Meanwhile, you were tanning on the deck, completely bare. His clients got an eyeful as they passed your nude body on their way out, making Zemo seethe.

Before you could say something coy, Zemo’s hand wrapped around your bicep, dragging you inside.

“Helmut-”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve disrespected me, and yourself, and I’ve had enough!” Zemo snapped.

You dug your heels in, putting up a fight against his manhandling. You were in a mood, and you wanted to rile the stoic sokovian. Household staff avoided looking at your body as they passed, each person who got a glimpse of you— of what was his— only angered Zemo further.

“You think you’re earning yourself a good fuck, yes? That’s what you want?” Zemo snapped, practically throwing your body up against the wall, getting in your face.

You glared at him, caught in the truth. That was exactly what you wanted— Zemo to fuck you thoroughly. He made a noise of disdain, as if your very existence disgusted him.

“You selfish little brat.”

The blood in your veins turned to ice, and you started to panic, realizing you hadn’t earned the reaction you’d hoped for. His dark gaze frightened you, and you dreaded everything that was beginning to unfold.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you tried to backtrack, tears welling in your eyes.

“You will be sorry,” Zemo hissed, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

He offered no sympathy at the sight of your tears, knowing it was a ploy to get him to lighten your punishment. He wasn’t falling for it, not after how you’d repeatedly pushed his buttons and been disobedient.

“Don’t cry. I haven’t even hurt you yet,” he held your jaw in his hand.

A pathetic whimper escaped your lips, and he dragged you down a side hall in his extensive mansion, to a room you detested. Both of your wrists stayed trapped in one of his hands, while the other pulled a key from the top of the doorframe.

“No, I don’t want to go in the playroom,” you shook your head, struggling against his grip on your wrists.

He said your name in an eerily calm tone, dark eyes boring into you.

“Stop struggling.”

A strained whine caught in your throat, and he pushed you into the room ahead of him. The lock clicked behind you on the door, and your arms went around your naked body. The black marble floor was cold under your feet, contradicting the shame and dread that burned through your skin. Your eyes danced along dark walls, covered in instruments and toys hanging from hooks, to a large bed in the corner.

His hand pressed against your lower back, leading you to the middle of the room, under a honeycomb structure attached to the ceiling. He threaded red cords through it, barely looking at you as he did so.

“Give me your hand.”

You miserably placed your hand in his. Red cord was bound around both of your wrists, tied to the ceiling with just enough pressure to leave your muscles straining, and your feet unsteady.

“Zemo-”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of your slutty mouth unless it’s red.”

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth, falling silent. He walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling out tiny clamps from one of them. You squirmed even before he approached you, the chords rattling against the grate.

You couldn’t escape him, you could barely move even a few centimeters. Your lips were parted, shallow, anxious breaths being exhaled softly. Zemo carefully monitored your reactions, listening to the pained squeak that came as he closed the clamps around your nipples, the sharp pinch biting into your hypersensitive skin. A chain hung between them, and he tugged lightly on it, just to see your toes curl in pain.

You gave Zemo a wounded look, struggling to stay quiet. You knew the rules, making noise and protesting would only land you in deeper trouble. Zemo was angry, and it was not the time to test him. He traced his fingers up your side, smoothing over the curve of your body.

He broke away from you, walking over the wall where different paddles were hanging from hooks. You squirmed in dread as he took a woden one off of the wall, tiny holes in it because he knew it was the one you found the most painful. He reserved it for when you were particularly bratty, or just downright disobedient.

“Stand still,” Zemo broke you out of your spiral of pity.

You exhaled, letting your feet settle on the ground. You didn’t need to be told to count, a quiet “one” falling from your lips as he struck your ass with the wood. Your numbers got progressively more strained until you were sobbing them out, trying not to lose count as your ass burned completely raw.

Your arms ached, held above your head as you struggled not to teeter, your feet unsteady on the cold floor. Zemo had ceased spanking you, letting you hang there. A cracked whine slipped out when he roughly pulled the nipple clamps off of you, sending a split second of blinding pain through your chest.

“You don’t have to count these,” Zemo’s voice broke the silence, making you open your eyes.

You shook your head, another round of tears slipping down your cheeks as he pulled a brown leather whip down. He waited for your safeword, but you didn’t speak, crying silently and turning your face into your arm.

The leather cord cracked against your already painful skin, welts raising and making you scream into the gag Zemo had placed in your mouth. You bit down on the fabric, sobbing as he whipped you for what felt like hours, though in reality it was likely only a few minutes.

He said your name, calling out to you, but you hardly heard him over your heart pounding in your ears. Zemo pried the gag out of your mouth, tilting your head up with both hands. You blinked slowly, gasping as he released your wrists from the restraints. You collapsed, but he caught you easily, ready for it.

You were shaking in his arms as he carried you to your bedroom, gently laying you down on the bed, easing you to rest on your stomach. He kissed down your spine, laying his hand on your side. You turned your face into the pillow, ashamed of your behavior, and him seeing you so vulnerable.

“Draga, it’s alright,” his voice soothed your insecurities, and you relaxed as he tenderly massaged cream into your burning skin.

You sniffed softly, wincing as he gently pulled some silk shorts up over your bum. He buttoned the matching top around you, earning your thanks. You twisted to look at him, pulling him to lay down in front of you, still fully dressed in his suit.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and he pulled you into his chest, letting you snuggle against him.

“I know, my love. It’s perfectly okay. All is forgiven,” he promised, kissing your head.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly for as long as he let you. He kissed the protests off of your lips when he stood up, promising he was just changing and then coming back.

You laid in the white sheets, waiting for your lover to return. He slid into bed next to you, watching the way your eyes lit up at his arrival. He pressed a kiss against your mouth, smiling as you curled up to rest under his arm.

“My darling.”

“Zemo?” you called, walking with a slight limp into the kitchen.

“I’m here. You didn’t need to be up so early,” he said, looking out the window before kissing your cheek.

“I wanted to see you,” you answered, happy you’d caught him before a day of meetings.

“See me? Why wouldn’t you?”

“Work...” you answered, looking up at him as if he’d forgotten.

“I’m off today. What would you like to do?” he asked, turning around and placing a plate of pancakes in your hands.

You gazed up at him, his smile reaching his dark eyes. He’d felt guilty with how much time he’d spent working. He knew that was the real reason for you acting out, and all he wanted was to make up for it and spend some extra time with you.

“Would it be wasteful to watch films? And eat these?” You asked.

“That would be perfect,” he helped you onto the couch, making sure you were able to sit comfortably.

You giggled as he forked a piece of pancake into your mouth, kissing the syrup off of your lips. You ate and watched the movie, gasping at the scary parts and laughing as Zemo covered your eyes.

“I love you, you know?”

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