#but also like i prefer “who will pray for me/you” over “will you pray for me”

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

Something about the Hatchetfield trilogy villains being able to break the fourth wall only after they gain the power of the Lord(s) In Black.

In TGWDLM, Paul and Emma acknowledge the audience as a shrub-lined alleyway, while the apotheosis addresses them throughout, specifically in the opening and closing numbers. And only then does Emma acknowledge them, as she's been infected and is screaming for help.

In Black Friday, the audience is addressed by that one Joey-played villain whose name I don't remember rn when he has one hold an apple (and maybe more I don't remember).

In NPMD, Max interacts with the audience after coming back, including telling them to shut up. And then Grace interacts only after it's revealed she kept the book ("did you think I'd stop with him?").

Yet another convoluted reason for me to say I like the stage version over the soundtrack.

Edit: Whoops. Nvm

[retroaria]

SOMEONES JEALOUS!

summary: (Sakura, Suō, Kaji) when they’re jealous seeing you with another guy!

WIND BREAKER M.LIST | enjoy 🥀 -aria

ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

Sakuras jealousy is a recurring issue. Once you’re his and he’s accepted that fact, he hates when anyone else gets more attention from you than he does. It makes him question everything, feels like he’s having a mid life crisis.

He sometimes get jealous of the way you interact with the other Bofurin boys as well. Is afraid you might think one of them is nicer than him, or that they could protect you better than he could. you constantly have to reassure him, which makes him feel even worse.

If he sees someone actively flirting with you right in front of him, he goes into fight or flight mode

Acts like you’re about to be murdered and his only way to save you is obnoxiously interjecting himself in the convo. “hahaha right MY PARTNER is soooo cool! you guys friends? Never heard of you before hahaha strange.” “Hey BABE, you seem to be having a lot of fun over here…WITHOUT ME.” The guy would just awkwardly walk away lol

Once he’s gone Sakura goes back to normal and tries to act like what he just did wasn’t borderline insane. “What do you mean? I was just talking to you how I always do.” Yeah suuuuure.

Just make sure he knows you love him and no one else. Appreciates when you include him in convos with strangers while you two are out, hates being left out of the loop.

Ren definitely feels like you are the light of his life, his sunshine on a cloudy day, the only pure thing about him, keeping him sane and at bay. Deep down he’s terrified that you’ll find someone more gentle than he is, someone less angry and tense all the time. So when something threatens to take you away, he gets rather aggressive

He prefers if you don’t see him that way. So anytime someone seems to be a little too flirty, or trying to get a little too close to you, he stalks his pray and waits it out. Once the interaction is over (you obviously rejected them), he’ll wait until you leave, head off to the bathroom, or just aren’t paying attention to shoot them the most devious glance imaginable.

Eyes of a killer as he bites down hard, cracking the candy in his mouth. sending them a signal of what might happen to them if they don’t back off. If you aren’t around, “you shouldn’t go for someone so far out of your league” “back off”.

Suo doesn’t tend to get jealous. He’s got you whipped (just as much as you have him) and he knows it. A confident king.

On the rare occasion he does feel threatened by another man, it’s usually by someone of his same stature, coy and nonchalant. It almost makes his blood boil to see someone teasing you the way he does just to see that cute flustered face.

Thinks its disrespectful for other men to bother you when they should already see how fruitless it is. In his head, someone like you is surely taken. (Though he still finds it hard to believe that he was the one who was able to take you)

He’s likes to let it go on for a little, wanting to see what tactics the guy might employ. He also wants to see the look on this persons face when they are inevitably rejected by you.

If they keep pestering you even after you’ve declined their advances, Suo will step in. “Hey darling, do you need my help here?” “How bold of you to assume you’d have a chance.” (He’s saying all of this with the most devious smile on his face, probably giggling too. Cheeky bastard.)

[elsweetheart]

what you heard : part one

synopsis: you start to develop feelings for your boyfriends dealer.

♪ what you heard — sonder ♪

cw: reader is a bisexual woman dating a man, brief descriptions of having sex with a man, weed, alcohol, ellie’s sexual thoughts, blink and you miss it mention of throwing up, a man being really mean and a bad boyfriend, gay girl drama, ellie is kind of a homewrecker but reader doesn’t technically cheat, but mentions of it. kind of angsty at times? a little?

an: whew this is kinda lengthy !! idk how many words so… don’t ask me :( i hope you all enjoy it! i’ll start writing part two asap!

Ellie didn’t hate any of her customers, no. That would be bad for business. She just simply… preferred some over the others. Louis was one of those customers that she wouldn’t exactly reserve her best weed for. Not originally, at least. He was like a lot of the other guys on campus, average. Brown hair with the same old outfits, love of sports, and friend group. She could find one hundred of him. She kept a pretty exclusive clients list, not wanting to overwhelm herself with business whilst she’s really trying this year to stay on top of her studies. He wasn’t the most polite, and he was always showing up without texting first — but he paid, and that was good enough to keep him on as a customer.

Alright, maybe that wasn’t really the reason Ellie kept him on as a customer.

She always liked to check out the social media accounts of the people she sold to, try and figure out what kind of person they were, who they knew, and if they seemed like the type to give her up if a cop came knocking. Also, simply put — the girl was nosy. Don’t let her nonchalant demeanour fool you, her Insta-stalking skills rivalled the FBI. She knew she probably shouldn’t, and she did feel a little weird doing it — scrolling on her bed one evening in a hoodie and basketball shorts, she typed in Louis’ name to the Instagram search bar.

He had one picture up of you, the rest were pictures of him and his friends at parties. Real classy, she thought. She clicked the picture, wondering what kind of girl would have to be desperate enough to go out with a guy this… meh, and oh… Oh. You were smoking hot. It was a halloween throwback, a basic couple costume with Louis dressed as the devil and you, ironically enough dressed as an angel. He kept his sweaty pink hand on the curve of your ass as the two of you laughed. She wondered what was funny. He got lucky, she thought. Very lucky.

Ellie tapped you, and a tag emerged on the screen with your name. Pretty name, of course. Private account — much to her disappointment.

It would be totally inappropriate to follow you, right? Her customers girlfriend. Ellie clicked her own profile, gazing at it thoughtfully. Her profile picture was a black screen, and she had zero pictures up on her account. She had a considerable amount of followers, given her reputation but she didn’t follow many back — just a few very loyal customers, and her best friends Jesse and Dina. It would be weird to follow you right? Yes. Very weird, Ellie. She closed out the app, and pretty much forgot about it.

It was always the same exchange with Louis. He turned up, either unannounced or 2 hours late — burp, demand weed whilst barely sparing Ellie a glance or a thank you, and then head out. She didn’t always mind — not being a huge fan of small talk anyway, though she could do without the burp. He’d had texted earlier in the day, asking — no, telling Ellie that he would be passing by to pick up his usual ‘at some point’. A quiet knock rapt at the door around 02:23PM. Ellie swung the door open, coming face to face with you.

“Hi… Ellie?” You smiled. Hopeful, sweet, even prettier in person. You were wearing a little sundress with the cheap thin material that hugged every curve on your body, and if she stared a little longer like she wanted to she’d start to border on creepy. Ellie cleared her throat, fighting out a greeting and praying it would come out relatively normal.

“Yeah.” Was what she landed on. Whatever, play it cool. Pretend you didn’t try and stalk her Instagram.

“Louis isn’t coming, the weed is for me and he told me where to buy from, so… hi.” You grinned before telling her your name like she didn’t already know it.

“Hey. I’m Ellie.” And with that, she stepped aside and let you in.

It was like you brought the sunshine in from outside with you, because as soon as you stepped into her room Ellie felt too warm in her grey hoodie. She pushed the sleeves up as your eyes flickered around her dorm, realised she felt stupid and pushed them back down.

“How much you want?” She was pulling out the metal box from her drawer, glancing up at you as your brows furrowed unsurely — thinking as you tugged at your glossed lip. Ellie tried not to stare.

“Uh—” You breathed, and it relaxed Ellie slightly to see that you seemed more nervous than she did somewhat— just for a different reason. “Louis told me to just ask for what he usually gets? I’m sorry, I’ve never bought my own weed before.” You cringed, and then cringed again at the word choice. Ellie smiled fade into a soft chuckle with a nod that said ‘I bet you haven’t.’ She should have guessed, when did pretty girls ever buy their own weed?

“You’re good. I know what his usual is.” Ellie reassured, digging around in the nuggets. She pulled a couple out, placing them down on her scale before bagging them up. You held out your hand unsurely, and she pressed the plastic baggie into it. Your mouth opened to say something, and Ellie’s hand froze above yours as she watched you — trying to work out what might be wrong. “What? Is this not…”

“No, sorry. It’s perfect. I assume. I’m not sure. I just… I don’t know how to roll these. Lou told me to buy my own weed seeing as I am the one who wanted to smoke and — it’s okay. I’ll just Google it.” You shook your head, feeling your cheeks turn warm at your own rambling. Ellie stopped you as you went to shove the baggie into her pocket with a calm smile, raising her eyebrows as if to say ‘Hey, it’s okay. Chill.’

“I can roll it for you. It’s no biggie.”

You visibly relaxed, and Ellie could tell because of the way your chest collapsed slightly, not suffocating your tits against the material of your dress anymore which she couldn’t help but glance at as you looked away. “Thanks. Sorry.” You guffawed, your embarrassment seeming a little relieved as you stepped back, leaning against her desk as she pulled her chair and tray out to do the rolling.

“Louis not buying your weed for you?” She conversed, eyes on the rolling paper as she carefully packed it. Your head snapped towards her, realising that you were the one who blabbed that. Her eyes glanced up at you briefly when you didn’t immediately answer.

“No. It’s… okay though.” You justified, a mass of shame swirling just below your rib cage. You didn’t wanna talk shit about your boyfriend to a stranger, even if the stranger had a totally welcoming vibe about her — and your boyfriend was cheap. Ellie tsk’d lightheartedly, shaking her head. “Against the rules, man.” She comment quietly.

“What rules?” You furrowed your brows defensively as she continued packing.

“You don’t let your girl buy her own weed?” She repeat obviously. Something about the way she said it made the embarrassment in your stomach dissipate into butterflies, which widened your eyes slightly at the disloyal feeling.

“Oh.”

Silence for a beat or two as Ellie concentrate. You notice the lesbian flag on her pinboard.

“It’ll probably just be me and my friends that smoke it anyway. The weathers nice so we’ll be at one of those frat pool parties… You don’t go to those?” You tilt your head, and her eyes lingered on you as you did so at the sugary sweetness in your gesture. God, you made her teeth hurt.

“Nah. I hear those things get weird and horny. Straight people… no offence.” She glances towards you once more, the ‘no offence’ holding little to no weight. Ellie didn’t seem like the type to give a shit about offence, anyways.

“I’m bisexual, but I understand.” You giggle, pushing yourself back to sit more on her desk, swinging your legs as you watch her roll. Her fingers froze for just a moment, before she continued rolling.

“Oh yeah?” She conversed, absolutely despising how a flame of hope flickered in her chest. Nope. Not doing this again.

“Yeah, actually I…” You chuckled. “I started college with the hopes of finding a girlfriend. Things just… didn’t end up that way I guess.” You shrugged, and you seemed happy enough but Ellie could sense the disappointment buried deep.

“Huh.” Ellie let out as she licked the rolling paper, firmly closing it up. She kind of hoped you were watching her as she did so. You weren’t. “You know if you squint really hard Louis could be a lesbian.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Nope.” Ellie pushed her chair back, standing. You chuckled and she smirked, pushing the two pre rolls she’d made into a bigger baggie and then presenting them to you. “This gonna be enough?”

“Oh yeah, I’m a total lightweight.” You giggled girlishly and she nodded, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she watched you fish around in your purse, unzipping an inside pocket to stuff the rolls inside.

“Cute.” She let slip with a smile, and your heart fluttered a little. You berated yourself for that silently.

“What extra do I owe you? Do you charge for rolling or… I don’t know how this usually works.” You pulled out your pink zip up wallet, the zip a glittery jewel between your fingers.

“Nah. No extra charge.” She held her hands up and you raised your eyebrows in surprise. That was a lie. She did usually charge extra for that, but one thing about Ellie was that she was a sucker for the pretty girl discount.

“Really?” And out came the doe eyes, your dark heavy eyelashes weighty above your pretty eyes as you looked up at her in awe. It was Ellie’s hearts turn to flutter.

“Really.” She smirked, not breaking eye contact (much to her surprise) as she pinched the cash payment from you between her pointer and middle finger knuckles, only swallowing down the giddiness when your fingers brushed hers. You grinned, zipping your wallet back up and tucking it away, feet tapping on the floor a little like you just couldn’t contain your excitement (Which made Ellie want to squeeze you.)

“I know you said it’s not your thing, but you should come to one of the pool parties. Most of the time the people there are cool. It’ll be good for business.” You wiggled your eyebrows which made Ellie’s smile uncontainable, teeth actually on display now which she honestly never did. No one was ever funny or cute enough.

“Maybe.” She rolled her eyes with a smile, walking you towards her door.

“They happen every weekend. Would be cool to see you there.” You fixed your bag over your shoulder before turning back to her. “Nice to meet you, Ellie. You’ll be seeing more of me.” You nodded formally, and the auburn haired girl tore her eyes away from the visible band of your underwear through the material of the dress when you looked back at her, muttering a “Good.”

Ellie always came away from these kind of things wishing she said more. She knew you had a boyfriend, but something about you seemed more curious. Like you weren’t totally against the idea of flirting back. Maybe it was all in her head because of the stupid crush she’d already developed. She didn’t understand it, how could someone like you feel fulfilled by someone like him. Ellie would never let you pay for your own weed, she’d treat you right. She had the means to be able to spoil you, which she didn’t need proof to know that Louis didn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even pay for his girls weed — Ellie knew stingy when she saw it. He probably wasn’t even making you cum. Not like Ellie could anyway, but then again who could? She’d like to think she had a gift — but maybe it was a guitarist-fingers thing, and years of deftly rolling tight joints.

Ellie shook her head free of the thought — sure she was a little grey-moralled — but thinking about finger fucking one of your customers girlfriends on a sunny afternoon felt a little wrong even for her. She was heading off to meet Dina to exchange notes for a class she missed, again just about willing herself to stay focused this semester. The two of them chat over coffee, the notes barely touched as the two friends joked around. When a pensive silence filled the space between them, Ellie spoke up — picking at a hangnail in a way she hoped was casual.

“You ever been to those campus pool parties? The ones at that douchey frat house?” She shrugged, glancing up at her darker haired friend.

“Uh, yeah. Like once or twice.” Dina frowned before snickering, raising a doubtful eyebrow. “What, you interested? You don’t even enjoy regular parties, hermit.”

Ellie’s jaw dropped slightly in offence, letting out a scoff before taking a sip of her coffee — still scalding hot on her tongue. “Excuse me. I’d be there strictly on business. I heard it’s… I was told I should go.” She explained. Dina’s smirk deepened, eyes lowering into slits.

“Who is she?”

“Why do you assume this is about a girl?” She rolled her jewelled eyes, before glancing around the cafe just incase anyone was listening to her pathetic segue into talking about you.

“Because last time I suggested you come with me and Jesse you nearly threw a textbook at my head.” Dina argued, making Ellie sit back in her seat, looking away in defeat as she crossed her arms over her light grey hoodie.

“She’s got a boyfriend. So it doesn’t matter. Just said it would be good for business and… the customer is always right, so I’ve been told.” Ellie rushed out, Dina’s shoulders dropping with a pitying look.

“Oh Ellie. Why put yourself through that?”

“She’s bi — okay stop. This isn’t about her. I was just asking. Fuckin’… forget it.” Ellie flipped the page of her notes now, going to scribble down what Dina had written to get her mind off the conversation.

“Alright, alright.” Her friends held up her hands. “Defensive.”

Ellie didn’t see Louis much from that point on. Same time, every week — you would be on her doorstep. Ellie wasn’t sure if it was just out of convenience, or maybe you had wanted to see her. You had the same spritely, sunshine attitude each time you stepped into her dorm — lighting it up with your smile and your pretty dresses. The auburn haired dealers heart was beginning to ache in a painfully familiar way. An unrequited crush, a girl she couldn’t have. She wished she could say this was the first time she’d crushed on a girl with a boyfriend — but that would be a lie.

Each time you left, the giddiness would fade out into a prickly, warm and uncomfortable anger settling in at the pit of her stomach. Occasionally, you’d let slip the way Louis treat you — and if you didn’t say it, she could tell by the look on your face when his name would come up. Your classes were stressing you out, hence needing her weed to unwind in the first place, and your boyfriend was doing nothing to ease your anxiety, instead choosing to go out and get wasted with his friends each night. You deserved better, and she knew it wasn’t her place to say but shit, it was killing her. You were killing her. She could treat you better.

From outside the frat house, she could hear music, laughter, and water splashing from down the street. Ellie stood with Dina and Jesse, already regretting her decision.

“Fuck this. I’m turning around.” Ellie attempted to swivel, but Jesse grabbed her arm.

“No you’re not. You’re here to sell, remember? Got a friend with money, said he’d pay you good.” He gave her a light shove towards the door, Dina rolling her eyes at the two’s antics. Ellie felt overdressed, wearing her short sleeved blue worn denim shirt unbuttoned over a wife beater and shorts with her Converse, pockets stuffed with pre-rolls gifting her that usual marijuana infused smell that followed her around that said ‘Hey everyone! I’m a dealer!’ Upon stepping out into the backyard, it was clear what kind of party it was. The sun was still shining, and people seemed pretty drunk already — jumping off the low roof and into the pool, girls on the outskirts squealing in their bikinis. The floor was practically vibrating with the bass from a Drake song and the sun was sizzling the back of Ellie’s neck — recipe for a headache, she thought. She’d sell her shit, and get out.

She knew you’d be here. In the back of her mind she knew. And yet, her heart still damn near thudded out her chest when you were suddenly right in front of her, arms extended with a big toothy grin. Ellie had almost panicked, not ready for the confrontation. She hadn’t even gotten herself a drink yet, hadn’t even smoked yet and here you were. You were wearing a white bikini and it looks so pretty against your soft skin. She was looking at your tits again.

Ah, shit.

“Ellie! M’so happy you came! I didn’t think I’d ever see you at one of these!” You all but squealed, throwing your arms around her neck and pulling your body taut against hers. Ellie didn’t have to look at Dina and Jesse to know that their eyebrows were practically in their hairline, taking in the scene in front of them. Your bikini top was damp still clearly having taken a dip in the pool earlier, along with the ends of your hair and she felt the wet triangles pressing damp spots into her own chest, your tits pressed up against her. You even had the nerve to let out a happy little ‘mmph’ moan as your body collided with hers. Were you really that happy to see her? God, if I had a dick right now, it would be rock fuckin’ hard. Thank fuck I don’t, Ellie thought— eyes opening again, not realising that she had squeezed them shut to suppress a moan when she’d hugged you back.

“Uh, yeah! Told you I’d consider it.” She tried to play it cool when she pulled back, taking in your giggly expression. You didn’t let go of her arm as you pulled away, and a waft of alcohol drifted through to Ellie’s nose, suddenly helping her understand the situation a little better. You were pretty drunk, but where was your boyfriend? Ellie scanned behind you, searching for his brunette mop only to be met with several dozens of them. Great. She felt a spike of anger in her chest again, violently protective. Who just leaves their girl wandering around in a bikini, drunk, at a frat party? “Wheres your little boyfriend?” Her expression flattened out, and she caught herself. She didn’t mean for it to come out like… that. Luckily, you were drunk enough to not notice the bitterness in her tone.

“Louis? Oh— uh…” Your bottom lip stuck out as you spun around on your tiptoes to see over heads, scanning the yard for him before spinning back with a shrug. You dropped back down onto the balls of your feet and your tits bounced in Ellie’s peripheral vision. “Who knows.” You giggle, eyes jumping to Ellie’s two friends, silently watching with amused smirks.

“Oh, uh— these are my friends. Dragged me along here. Dina,” She pointed. “And Jesse.” He gave you a little wave.

“Hi!” You chirped with an adorable little wave, before telling them your own name. “I’m not usually this…uh—”

“Drunk?” Ellie leant forward quietly with a smirk, like it was a secret just between the two of you. You giggled, turning back to her, introductions long forgotten as your face morphed into a theatric pout, blown out puppy dog eyes and all.

“Who says I’m drunk? Maybe I’m just really friendly.” You practically pur, suggestiveness dripping off your tone as your hand pulled her by her arm just that little bit closer, soft fingertips over her tattoo. Just as Ellie scrambled for an answer — your name was called in a familiar voice. Louis.

“Babe, there you are.” He sounded irritated, and Ellie straightened her back, jaw squaring ever so slightly. Be friendly, Ellie. He’s a customer — she remind herself. A shitty one, but he still pays you.

“Oh…” He took Ellie in, eyes jumping over her attire before glancing back at you. She just admit, she did look violently lesbian that day — and the body language between her and his girl wasn’t looking all too great to fresh eyes. “Hey.”

You reluctantly let go of Ellie’s arm, which didn’t go unnoticed by the brunette boy.

“I was just catching up with Ellie!” You grinned, and God — were you aware of just how flirtatious you looked batting your eyelashes up at her like that? In front of your boyfriend?

“Yeah, I see that.” Louis’ eyes didn’t leave Ellie’s, which of course she took as a competition without even thinking. She took a step closer, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She stood around 5’7. Taller when she wore boots. Taller if she fixed her posture. He wasn’t much taller than her, so she pretty much met his eye. Her heart skipped a few beats knowing you were watching her, but she held his gaze anyway— tilting her chin up a little. “Thanks for looking after my girl.” He spoke, which almost made Ellie want to laugh.

“Any time.” Eye to eye, the smirk that tugged at her lips held more meaning and the two of you knew it. Oh, she’d look after you alright. Louis’ eyes flickered away, glancing over at Dina and Jesse before back to her, stepping away and putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Come watch me play beer pong?” He spoke to you and you shrugged happily, taking the drink out of his hand and sipping. The freckled dealer couldn’t help but briefly think about how if you were with her she would have cut you off by this point, wrapping an arm around your waist and telling you that you’d had enough to drink, maybe suggest grabbing you a water. As he lead you away, you craned in his hold to wave at Ellie, who waved a few fingers back— watching closely. It was a casual crush before, but now it was on. She didn’t like Louis’ smugness, nor his general attitude or the way he was neglecting you. She had to take you and leave him with nothing. No, Ellie. You’re being like him. She’s not a piece of meat. But she knew the protectiveness didn’t stem from that. Did she think about you sexually? Yeah. But she could give you more than that. You were a sweet girl, and you should be treated as such.

“That was tense.” Dina raised her eyebrows, breaking the auburn haired girls concentration, her gaze snapping back to her friends.

“Oh, uh — he’s fuckin’… weird. I dunno. I give him my shitty weed.” She shrugged it off, looking over her shoulder once more to watch you disappear inside.

“I get it now, though. She’s a total smoke show.” Dina dropped her hand onto Ellie’s shoulder who sighed, shaking off the whole interaction.

“Whatever. I need a drink.” Ellie rolled her eyes, stepping away.

“She was hot.”

“Jesse, it’s okay when I say it. Not when you say it.”

“What? You just called her a smoke show! You’ve never called me that.”

Ellie left the bickering couple behind to find a beer, needing something cool and alcoholic to wind her down. Why was she getting so possessive over someone that wasn’t hers? You were making her feel like a creep, and she didn’t like that. Ellie did not catch feelings easily, despite her past mistakes. So like… what the fuck?

She didn’t see you for two weeks.

Maybe you’d realised you shouldn’t be giving her the eyes. Maybe Louis stepped up his game, who knows. Neither of you had even purchased any weed, and it was approaching exam season so Ellie knew you were stressed. But did she know? Was it presumptuous of her to ‘know’ how you feel?Just based off several occurrences and conversations when you’d come to her dorm to pick up? She tried to shake the feeling of you, your skin grazing hers and your pretty eyes staring up at her — and it was actually working. Maybe time does heal everything. Until of course, she went to the library and the clocks reversed on themselves.

She had to admit, she was falling a little behind in her work. She had gotten so preoccupied in selling that she had almost forgotten to be, well… a student. Her backpack was making her shoulder sore so she switched it to the other as she wandered through the building, fairly quiet for a Tuesday. She felt a pit of irritation bud inside her when she saw someone sat in the seat she wanted, the one that was away from everyone else in the library. She note the pink laptop case, the Hello Kitty stickers on the water bottle, the bracelets on the protruding arm. Oh, it was you.

Ellie was planning to walk on by. You’re here to do work, not flirt or get yourself involved in some kind of sapphic shenanigan. Your head was on the desk, and she figured you had fallen asleep — which almost made her smile fondly before she caught herself. Not yours, Ellie. As she stepped away however, she heard a sniffle. Then another. Ellie froze, willing herself not to do it. It’s not your responsibility Ellie, you can walk away and pretend you never saw. She pursed her lips, turning around anyway.

As she did so, you were lifting your head from the table, wiping your cheeks and nose of tears. You had this pitiful pout on your face, streaming eyes all pink and glossy and your nostrils damp in this oddly adorable way. Ellie still had time to creep away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“You uh… you good?” She stood awkwardly, making you snap your head towards her in surprise. She didn’t miss the way your eyes widened slightly in embarrassment at seeing a familiar face in such a vulnerable moment.

“Oh — Ellie. Um, yes. I’m fine.” You tried, but when you held her doubtful gaze — your lip wobbled again.

“Okay.” Ellie sighed after a beat, pulling up a seat and dragging it to your small table. Yep, she was doing this. “Talk to me.” She spoke in a hushed tone. She was so gentle with her voice and her eyes and her general demeanour — something you weren’t so used to — it soothed you enough to calm you for a moment and you revelled in the unfamiliar but warm feeling she brought you.

“I don’t wanna bore you with it.” You shook your head with an demure chuckle. Ellie wanted to reach forward and wipe your tears away, her hands itched on the table in-front of her instead.

“We’re literally in the library. I promise you that nothing is more boring than my text-book.” She raised an eyebrow with the attempts of making you laugh. Instead, you watched her for a moment. Ellie could tell you were wondering why she was being so nice to you. Does she treat all her customers this way?

“It’s… stupid. Louis just…” You sigh, as if the mere mention of his name makes you cringe. “We’re not that serious. So… I don’t care what he goes off and does in his spare time,” Interesting, Ellie noted. “But he gets really mad. And when he gets mad he gets mean. I guess I just need thicker skin.” Your voice cracked.

“Or you need to be with someone who’s not an asshole.” Ellie snipped before she got the chance to stop herself. Your eyes met hers again, a little wide in shock. “Sorry.” She closed her eyes, collecting herself. You blinked and two fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

“It’s… okay.” You whispered, playing with your bracelet. A silence sat between you two, just the sound of quiet shuffling in the library and your sniffs.

“Look, don’t let him get to you. You don’t… deserve that.” She shook her head and you nodded slowly, accepting. It was as if Louis were purposely giving her more reason to dislike him, and it was getting harder to hide her distaste for him. Snide comments were slipping out more frequently, Shit — she could barely even contain her facial expressions when his name was mentioned. Something had to be done soon, because she didn’t know how much ‘pretending’ she had left in her. Thankfully, the two of you seemed to have developed a bit of a friendship — so she felt less guilty about bashing your boyfriend, as you seemed understanding due to his often unlikeable ways.

“You done here soon?” Ellie looked around at the library. You wiped your cheek, hitting save on your laptop and shrugging.

“Didn’t really have any work to do, just didn’t know where to go.” You pout sadly, making Ellie have to dig her nails into her seat this time so that she didn’t lean forward and kiss it off you.

“Y’wanna smoke? On me. You need cheering up.” She stood up, swinging her backpack back on, studying long forgotten. You looked up at her hopefully, a glint of reluctance in your eye. You didn’t know why it felt wrong, you weren’t technically doing anything wrong. Just two friends hanging out, right? Louis wouldn’t know that you’re attracted to her. You wasn’t even sure if Louis remembered that you were bisexual for Gods sake, despite telling him a whole bunch of times.

“Really? I can pay you Ellie…” Your eyebrows knit together, and she was already shaking her head.

“My treat. I don’t like seeing pretty girls cry. Makes me wanna cry. You want me to cry?” She joked, pointing at herself in disbelief. She felt relief at the giggle that made its way out your throat, covering your mouth as to not disturb the other library goers. Pretty girls. The words echoed around your head until your face was hot before it dropped into your stomach and made a nest there.

“Okay.” You agreed after a moment. What harm could it do? Louis was an asshole, and the guilt began to slip away as you stood up — remembering all the nasty things he’d said to you.

“Alright, good.” Ellie grinned, turning her face away for a moment so maybe you wouldn’t see how excited she was. You did.

_

“Thats a terrible first high story.” You giggled, taking a draw from the joint.

“What? Fuck you let’s hear yours then!” Ellie gaped, leaning forward from her seat on her bed to take the joint from you as you exhaled. You bit back your smile, letting your pink, watery eyes sail off in thought at you recalled your first time smoking.

“Kay, so… I was 17.” You staged dramatically, widening your eyes slightly as she smirked at your theatrics, leaning back with her eyes glued to you. If you weren’t so blazed, maybe you’d feel nervous under her simmering gaze. “Best friends brother let us smoke some in the backyard with his friends. I tried to play it cool, but I smoked too much and start laughing and I couldn’t stop. Like — it was painful, and I was scared because I couldn’t stop laughing. And they were all looking at me like what the fuck… so I went inside, tried to calm myself down and I threw up on the carpet. Like a distressed cat.” You pouted lightheartedly as Ellie chuckled along with your story.

“Threw up? How strong was the weed? Damn.” She laughed and you shook your head.

“It might have been the shots we’d done before hand to calm our nerves. Bad idea.” You cringed and she nodded, eyes still piercing into you as her laughter died down.

“That might’ve been it, yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as she brought the joint to her lips once again, sucking in as she inhaled the pungent smoke. Ellie always got this confidence about her when she smoked. Well — she always had this slightly cocky demeanour about her, but for the most part it was an act. A need to protect herself. A defence mechanism that helped her get by — being a dealer was a social ass job. But smoking made that feeling real. She knew that was bad, relying on weed for real confidence and all, but hey — she’ll take what she can get.

“How you feeling? Any better?” She tested the waters, almost sorry she brought it up when you remembered Louis’ existence, expression melting a little into one of slight disappointment. One that said ‘Oh yeah… him.’ Like you’d forgotten for a moment.

“I guess. Not gonna let it bother me like you said. I don’t have the energy.” You shrugged, tearing your gaze away to study your baby pink manicure instead. Ellie scoffed out a little chuckle, finally stubbing out the joint. The noise attracted your attention and you met her analytical stare.

“Can I… ask what you see in that guy? Not judging just… curious.” She held her hands up in defence, but you didn’t exactly jump to his rescue. Infact it took you a moment to think about it.

“I don’t…” You stop yourself from saying ‘I don’t know’, your pride still burning despite the weed letting your guard down. “He’s… nice most of the time. Kinda guy your parents want you to bring home. He’s not as bad as he seems around other people. I guess he makes me feel wanted when we’re together?” You consider, but the way you say it makes Ellie think that you don’t even fully believe it. “I think… it was gonna be just sex. When I first met him anyway, but if I’m being totally honest the sex isn’t worth it on its own so I dunno… I thought I’d feel more fulfilled by a commitment, you know?”

Ellie was delighted, to be honest. It was music to her ears. You were just spewing about how unfulfilled you were, and she was starting to feel more and more confident that she could convince you that there was a bigger and better world out there. She laughed, openly — letting the joy of the moment go to her head for a minute.

“Oh that’s funny?” You giggled back, chucking a small brown sentimental looking teddy bear at her from her bed. You pursed your lips and she could tell despite your laughter you were knocked slightly insecure by her reaction.

“A little.” She looks off to the side. You want to chuck something else at her but there’s nothing to throw.

“Why?” You push. You know why.

“Your boyfriend can’t fuck.” Her stomach tensed as another laugh bubbled up and you rolled your eyes theatrically, pushing yourself up just so you can dramatically change your position to face the other way on the bed, arms crossed and brow creased.

“Not opening up to you again.” You push out and she nudges you gently with her foot, a more sympathetic (yet equally amused) expression still at the surface.

“No, I’m sorry. Go on.” She waved her a hand a little in the smoky room, nudging you again with her sock covered toe.

“Thats it! There’s nothing else to it. My boyfriend can’t fuck and it sucks. I hate everything.” You complain, not daring to face her. She can’t help but burst out laughing again, the back of her head leaning back to rest on the wooden headboard as she runs a hand over her eyes, shielding herself from the bright dorm light, and you. She lets out an ‘ahhh’ at the end of her outburst.

She hears you whine her name, and she takes more pity on you this time purely because you sound so cute.

“Alright uh— tell me what he’s doing wrong. I’ll give you pointers to give to him so he can fix his shit.” She tries suddenly, as if just being struck by the idea — and she feels you slowly look at her. She pushes her chin down to her chest, looking at you now as she removes her hand from her eyes. You blink at her a couple of times, still pretty, still high as a kite.

You inhale through your nose, eyes drifting off in thought as you turn back towards her, invested, tucking your feet beneath your ass. You hum, coming up blank. “I don’t know. I feel like… you either got it or you don’t, you know? Sex is… emotional. Well, it should be. To him it’s just… getting off.” You shrug, opting to pick at a loose thread on her grey bed throw than look at her. The smirk is still dying on her lips like the slither of sunlight resting on water at the culmination of a sunset. She takes a little longer to think, brain fogged by her high.

“So… okay.” She pushes her palms into the bed to sit up a little more. “What do you like? I don’t really pin you as someone who… wants to be in control.” She analyses, watching you carefully for a reaction. She notices the flick up of your eyebrows and guesses — correct.

“With him there’s no… no one is in control. It’s not one person calling the shots or any kind of dynamic it’s just… we just fuck and that’s it.” You sound sad this time, like bringing the conversation to forefront was making you realised just how unhappy you were.

“Do you cum?” She asks abruptly, and you nearly choke on your own saliva. You think it catches her off guard too, because she looks away from you for a moment and itches her head before deciding fuck it, and goes back to staring. You bite your lip. Well there was that one time, you were on your back — Louis on top, you had a hand pressed between the two of you, rubbing your clit in quick sloppy circles as he got busy. Your eyes were closed. Did you cum? Kind of? Your eyes were closed. You were somewhere else. Somewhere softer and warmer, and it didn’t smell like beer and sweat. You shake your head, no. It was the closest time though, but Louis got all hostile about you touching yourself during sex. Said it was insulting, that you undermined him. You shook off the memory.

“No?” She whispers, eyebrows raised to the high heavens as if she just couldn’t fathom having sex and not making her partner cum — because that’s exactly what she was doing. She felt that hot tingling anger again in her chest, but it was dulled out by the weed — leaving her with just a light irritation at the back of her throat. “Thats fucked up.”

“Is it? I mean… orgasms take time. Doesn’t just happen in five minutes… that can get exhausting.” You defend, and you’re not sure why. You both know there’s no excuse.

“Nah.” She sniffs, not quite bothered to begin on how wrong you are. She switches the subject slightly instead. “So let me guess, missionary everytime?”

Your eyes widen, pressing your fingers over your lips to stop the childish giggle from bursting out. Ellie’s eyes widen too, realising how, well — down bad she was acting. She felt like a teenage boy on Snapchat playing truth or dare asking an uninterested girl if she’d ever send nudes before.

“Uh— fuck, you don’t have to answer that. Just making conversatio—”

“Most of the time. I think…” You decide to share something to make her feel less invasive, not wanting the conversation to end. You actually enjoyed getting to talk someone about this. “I think I’d feel good on top, maybe. But, hmm. How do I put this?” You thought. You looked at her for a moment and she gazed back, waiting on you to continue. Her breath caught in her throat when you crawled up toward her. “Lay back, please?” It was a request, not a command — and Ellie thought she might be dreaming when you straddled her with a frustrated expression.

You settled, and she was hyper aware of the feeling of your pillowy ass dropped down onto her thighs over her warm crotch.

“Okay, say I’m here. In this position.” You explain as well as you can, and when you give a few demonstrative bounces on her phantom cock her hands instinctively land on your hips to steady you. Fuck. Fucking shit. You don’t even seem to notice, or care. “This,” You point at your position. “Is me being in charge and… I don’t want that. It— it doesn’t get me off. I don’t wanna feel like I’m dominating them.” You whisper the last part like you’re telling her a secret at a girly sleepover, and she catches herself grinning before she scrambles, running over what you just said in her brain.

“Wait. Nah, that’s…” She adjusts herself slightly sheepish because she can feel herself blushing. Be cool, Ellie. Be dominant. “Thats bull. It doesn’t matter what position you’re in, it’s about how you make them feel.” She shrugs, and when you continue to stare at her, pink, glossy wide eyes— she carries on, you requiring more explanation. “If you’re on top working overtime, he should be telling you what a good job you’re doin’. How pretty you look doin’ it.” Her voices rasps in the way it does when she gets horny and she hopes she’s not giving herself away. Your mind goes a little blank, succumbing to the daydream of receiving that kind of praise. It makes your skin feel clammy. Louis isn’t below you in your daydream. Your freckled friend breaks your trail of thoughts. “And,” She’s smug now, and raises her knees behind you, planting her feet down on the bed and thrusting upwards a few times making you bounce a little, gripping her tighter. “Doesn’t matter if you were on top. I could still be the one fucking you. Just like this.”

You pause, only because you’re frozen in fear that she can feel the sudden floodgates open between your legs— praying to every God imaginable that you don’t leave some kind of pathetic wet patch on her. She thinks you’ve frozen at what she’s said.

“Uh— I mean Louis. Louis could still be the one— yeah.” She shrugs off, squeezing your hips with her warm fingers and you’re suddenly aware of your compromising position again, shaken from a dream. You slide off her quickly, bringing your knees to your chest and your back to the cool wall beside her bed. You were not a cheater. It doesn’t matter that the two of you didn’t kiss, or fuck, or whatever — what would have happened if Louis had walked in and seen you in your very gay dealers lap, pretending to have sex? You were not a cheater.

Ellie’s mouth was agape, like she wanted to say sorry but just couldn’t find it in her to feel sorry enough to say it. Her eyes were worried however, worried she’d made you uncomfortable or pushed it too far.

“I should… I shouldn’t stay. It’s getting late and—” You started looking for your bag with your laptop in it, where did you put it again?

“I’m sorry I— I didn’t mean to be weird. That was… I made you feel—” Her tone was apologetic now.

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m just hungry and I get weird when I’m… when I haven’t eaten. You’re fine. I mean, you were fine. Nothing weird just… friends hanging out, right?”

It hurt her, but Ellie nodded anyway. You were going back to him. It always ended this way.

“‘Kay. You got everything? You gonna be okay getting back? You’re still high.” Ellie stood, awkwardly dawdling behind you as you scooped up your purse. “I can walk you back—” She started patting her pockets for her key card.

“It’s okay, really. It’s still light outside and it’s a short walk. I think I need just… fresh air and quiet.” You avoid her eyes, but turn to face her as you back towards her door.

“Okay.” She was disappointed. “I hope you feel better now, ‘n stuff.” Your hand pushed the cold metal handle down and the hallway of her building was just as muggy, but it felt like a relief when some of the smoke from her dorm was released.

“I do.” You could look now, standing in the hallway as she didn’t move past her doorway. The distance made it safe enough to look at her pretty eyes without feeling you were going to do something bad. “Thank you Ellie. I owe you one.” Your brows knit together sincerely. Sure, I have a favour I need — break up with your boyfriend.

“Sure.” Ellie left it there, shook her head like it was nothing. “Text me and just… let me know that you got in okay. Yeah?” She continued to speak to you as you backed up down the hallway, awkwardly fumbling with your bag. It was wrong to let a girl walk back home high and alone. She thought about you walking around drunk and alone at that frat party. She was Louis this time.

“Will do. See you, Ellie.” Her name sounded like music when you said it. She had a new favourite song.

Your dorm was cooler, refreshing to be in when you got back. Your first mission was to look in the mirror and you sighed almost angrily seeing how flustered and a little dishevelled you look. You wanted to take the clothes off that touched her, still stinking of weed. You wanted food in your belly to flush her out. Flopping onto your back on your bed you pull your phone out, ignoring the texts and calls from your boyfriend — all to send a message to your dealer.

‘got back safe, thanks again😊’ You regret the emoji, but the Read: 5:13PM was immediate so there was no time to regret it for long. Three bubbles and then ‘Good’. You stare at the text, and then stare past the phone. You didn’t want to answer Louis right now. He could wait until tomorrow.

part two

[serendipitous-girl]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

⊱✿⊰ summary: he isn't yours so why do you get so jealous?

⊱✿⊰ warnings: jealously, you're possessive but sal likes it, he doesn't believe anyone would love him :( cringy confession; reader is a dork i fear (she is me)

⊱✿⊰ notes: i heard this song and had this daydream and was like dang this would be a fire fanfic so here we are. ALSO WHERE ARE ALL THE SALLY FACE FANS LIKE I WRITE FOR IT GUYS NOTICE ME ahem anyway

⊱✿⊰ taglist: @fashionablysouly @kozumesphone

You had a secret: you were excruciatingly and agonizingly in love with your best friend, Sal Fisher. Okay so maybe it wasn't a secret to anyone except for Sal himself but it was still something you would rather die before Sal found out. He definitely didn't see you that way and he would probably reject you immediately if he found out. So it was safer to just not say anything.

He didn't need to know about the nights spent screaming into your pillow or crying in Ashley's arms over how sickeningly giddy his voice made you. He didn't need to know how easily he made your heart beat like you ran a marathon or how easily he made you feel like your head was in the clouds.

However that led to dilemmas such as the one you found yourself in currently. You were probably the most aware of Sal'a attractive but unfortunately, you were not the only one to notice it. So it was common as was happening right then, to find a girl start talking his ear off obviously trying to flirt with him.

"You're so funny, Sallyy," The girl giggled, sitting across from Sal at the cafeteria table. You tried to stop your glare from settling into your face but it was far too late, jealousy was disease that affected you quickly and viciously.

She was beautiful with tanned skin and soft lips, she was perfect and far more in the league of someone as incredible of Sal. But no, she doesn't deserve Sal. She doesn't know him like you do, she doesn't ache in her bones at the thought of being near him. She can't have him.

"You might as well leave." Larry commented to her, seeming far to amused as he glanced at you. You felt self conscious and tried to relax your face from the deadly look you had been casting on that girl. He continued, "[Name] is far too jealous to let you stay for much longer."

Murder should be legal, you quickly decided as you shot a look at Larry that made him well aware he would not be living for much longer. Why the hell would he say that? In front of Sal too?

Did he want you to die of heartbreak? Surely Larry fucking Johnson was praying on your downfall because there is no other logical reason for him to have done that. Unless he has a death wish.

"[Name] isn't dating Sal. Isn't that right, honey?" The girl replied, placing her hand over top Sal'`. That was when you snapped; how dare she touch Sal?

Before you could fully process thinking you grabbed her wrist and yanked it away from Sal. You looked at her, trying to cool the inferno of anger in your gaze as you said, "That boy is mine. Touch him again and I break all of your bones."

The girl let out a whimper and quickly rushed away, leaving a majority of the lunch room's eyes on you. You sunk into your seat, far too afraid to glance at the blue haired boy beside you. You were beyond embarrassed by your possessiveness, who were you to say he was yours?

Larry and Ashley were absolutely cackling, way too amused to see this side of you publicly outed to the boy you loved with your entire soul. Sal turned to look at you, his prosthetic hiding any hint of emotion you could have gotten.

"I'm yours?" He asked, his voice making your tummy rumble and roll. Even his voice was attractive, it physically wasn't fair to exist beside him and not have him to kiss and hold.

"Have you really not noticed, Sally?" Ashley asked, nudging you on the shoulder. You bit the inside of your cheek, preferring none of this to happen. Why did your feelings have to come out this way?

Sal made a confused noise but you grabbed his arm, and said, "Can I talk to you alone?" He nodded and let you lead him away from the lingering stares, into the hallway which was far more empty.

"What's up with you?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt his gaze on your face, making it warm even more. Although that didn't seem quite possible with how feverish every inch of your skin felt. You looked down at your shoes, trying to stall the confession.

"I don't want you dating anyone." You said finally, jealously arising yet again as you remember that girl flirting with Sal. He let out a huff of confusion, his eyes still directly on you. Crap, you had to explain more.

"Seeing those girls flirt with you or hearing them make those vile comments about the things they want to do to you. It makes me so angry, it isn't fair. I don't want you dating anyone except for me. I want you to be my boyfriend." You ranted, feeling your blood boil as you remember all the times you had gotten jealous.

When Sal froze, you realized what you said. Oh no no no, he is going to reject you and never talk to you again. If only there was a self destruct button on your body you could press in this moment.

He kept staring at you, making you wish you could see beneath his mask to have a guess at how he was feeling. How disgusted he might be at your ridiculous feelings for him.

"why do you like....me?" He finally asked, sounding shocked that you could have feelings for him. Your gaze shot back up to meet his, and you saw the surprise (and dare you say, happiness?) in his eye.

"Why wouldn't I like you, Sal? You're so amazing and god I love you so much I think I've gone insane." You replied, feeling almost breathless with this string of honesty. His body finally relaxed and you could almost sense the smile beneath his mask.

"I love you too, [Name.]" Sal replies quietly, "Can I be your boyfriend?"

You felt your lips part with surprise, not believing your ears. Sal must have noticed your shock because he laughed and leaned closer, interlacing your hand with his deliciously cold fingers.

"Yes, you can be my boyfriend." You said, rambling slightly. You must've been injected with a dose of caffeine because you kissed his mask right where his lips lay under. Then you ran away, giggling like a lunatic. You stopped in a hallway, feeling flushed and faint and giddy and ridiculous.

Finally that boy truly was yours.

[novasturns]

SMUTTY CHRIS STURNIOLO HEADCANONS (!domchris version)

- this is my personal opinion, if u disagree tell me in the comments

- also english isn't my first language so bear with me please lol

- if u don't like this type of content do not read!!

——————————————————————

he's a switch for sure but more tilted to the dominant side. he likes when u take control and tell him what to do but he still prefers to be the one that leads.

he loves backshots, in front of a mirror specifically because he still wants to see your beautiful face and how you roll your eyes out of pleasure. he's pulling your hair, grabbing u by your neck, leaning forward to your ear to whisper some dirty words.

he LOVES to edge u. it brings him so much joy seeing all desperate and needy to cum you actually start to cry, and then he will have the audacity to say something like ,,aww, do you really wanna cum so bad?" driving u even more over the edge. and when u cum without his permission, he takes that personally. ,,you just cannot wait 5 minutes? you wanna know who cums like how u just did? whores. i think i clearly said that you cum when i tell u to didn't i?" next thing you know, your face is buried in your pillow, he occasionally lifts your head up to tilt it to him. tears streaming down your cheeks, your face burning red, sweat paths going down from your forehead.

he tends to be real touchy in public, mainly because he's always horny and always wants head, anywhere and at anytime. he'd sneak u to the bathrooms when yall be having dinner with nick and matt and probably would bent u over the sink and just pray no one comes in. he would also inappropriately touch you as u sit next to him cuz he's just that needy.

one thing about him, he actually prefers when you're on top. he can see your face expressions which get him even harder than he already is and he loves to see your tits bounce. he'd hold u by your waist to help you when he notices you're getting tired.

——————————————————————

- alright i think that's it, this is my first time posting something this long (even tho it could be longer) and smutty so please be nice

- reblogs are highly appreciated

- let me know if yall wanted a matt version or !subchris version

[feyascorner]

9 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh, love.”

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink. 

Has he always looked at you like this?

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. officially in act 2 so there's like a few weeks of a timeskip!!!! finally getting to that blurry line between hatred and...wtv they are

also praying the tags work this time

“Wake up,” you whisper. “Wake up, Astarion.”

His body shakes as you pull him closer to your chest, ignoring how cold his skin feels against yours. There’s nothing out here except the two of you and the blissful gaze of the moon glimmering against all the other stars in the sky. Here, it’s as if nothing else exists.

Yet, the nightmares continue to haunt him.

“Cazador, he’ll come for us. He’ll come for you. He’ll make me watch as you die and laugh at my agony before he tosses me into that damned prison again for another year. Maybe even more,” he rasps. “Gods, you were so–there was so much blood—your blood—and all I could smell was–”

You shush him, running your hand through white curls. The sensation seems to calm him just the slightest. “He’s not here. I’m alive, and so are you. See?”

Gently, you raise his palm to where your heart rests and wait patiently for him to come back to you again. He melts into the steady thumping of your heart, shoulders slowly relaxing. It takes some time, but eventually, his panting slows, and he slumps into your touch. When you pull him close again, he shakes his head.

“I’ll kill him for what he’s done to me and what he could do to you.”

You answer him by intertwining your fingers with his own. In response, he tightens his arms around your waist.

“I’m going to love watching him scream.”

Crashing onto the ground does little for your already trembling knees.

“Again.”

Weeks have passed since your last uncomfortable encounter with Astarion, and you’d much prefer to keep it that way. And while things have mostly smoothed over with your companions, the obvious issue of the spawn remains a concern, though the murders have decreased significantly in passing times. You’re grateful there aren’t as many bodies, but it also makes you wonder what’s preventing them from killing as many as they did. Fear it, even.

Lae’zel’s wooden sword wipes you off your feet again, and you land face-first into the grass. Embarrassment floods your cheeks despite there being nobody else in the park.

“You’ve gotten rusty, istik.”

Clambering onto your knees, you grip your own sword to stabilize yourself. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s gotten significantly better?”

“Flattery won’t save you on a battlefield, bard.”

“‘Was-bard,’” you correct her, using the sword to bounce back onto your heels. “And I think it’s saved us more than a few times. Remember that time I persuaded Yurgir to kill all his friends before we killed him?”

“A silver tongue has no use if the enemy is deaf,” she lunges at you, and you barely manage to stumble out of the way.

You hiss. “Why the hell would I be fighting a deaf enemy? And can you please warn me before you try to stab me?”

“There are no warnings in a real battle.”

“We’re not in real battle!”

She ignores you and lunges once more without warning.

You land on your ass again and again until you’re sure there’s a nasty bruise on half of your legs. There’s not enough time to register the soreness spreading to your knees, however, because by the time you’re up, she’s already coming at you again. It’s hopeless, you think, blocking another attack. Just as you’re about to give up and admit defeat, you see an opportunity in her stance. Seemingly laid back with how miserably you’re failing, you take it as a weakness and practically pounce at the opportunity to launch at her in return for your own bruises.

By some miracle, it lands.

She doesn’t fall as pathetically as you did, but she stumbles.

“Have you lost your touch, Lae’zel?”

You whip your head around to the voice where Shadowheart is under the shade of a tree, a letter gripped in her fingers. She paces closer to you and your opponent, raising a brow at the state you’re in. “Was it really necessary to beat them so harshly?”

“It worked, didn’t it? They managed to hit me,” Lae’zel scoffs, a hint of pride in her tone.

“Well, as wonderful of a time it is to watch you fight one another like beasts,” Shadowheart rolls her eyes, lifting the letter. “Tav and I need to get new clothes tailored, it seems.”

Lae’zel snatches the letter before you can take a look, her eyes scanning over the words before shooting to you. “A celebration?”

“A ball, more like,” the cleric steals the sheet right back, handing it to you. “In our honor, of course, for defeating the elder brain. About time we received something in return.”

You only briefly glance at the words printed on the letter. “This is too much.”

Both heads turn to you inquisitively. “I thought you’d be ecstatic for something like this. I recall you always used to sing about the songs people would make about your adventures.”

“That was ages ago,” you sigh, but Lae’zel doesn’t seem much happier either.

“They choose to celebrate while the city’s citizens are being picked off like prey by spawn? No wonder its inhabitants have turned out so puny,” she glances at you while she speaks. You contemplate rolling your eyes, though you’d rather not get knocked on your ass again.

“You and Gale can go tomorrow. I made reservations at the tailor for all of us, but Figaro says he can only take two a day,” Shadowheart tells Lae’zel. “You wouldn’t mind if I took your punching bag for a few hours, would you?”

“Tchk. I have the wizard as another target if need be.”

She tosses her braid over her shoulder as she nods. “Great. Let’s hurry then.”

They don’t give you much room to protest in the matter, already having made up their minds—not that you were going to object in the first place. You’re honored, really, that the city finds you impressive enough to throw a celebration in your honor, and you know your companions are more than deserving of it, too. But it’s as Lae’zel said.

There’s another battle brewing under the city, in its shadows, and in plain sight, yet you can’t do anything about it. It’s not like the elder brain. Killing the brain itself was enough to rid of the mind flayers, but in this case, killing one spawn only leads to hunting 7000 more. Most of which are being lied to by Astarion’s siblings.

You shake your head to rid of the thoughts. No. You deserve this. You went through hell and back with that bloody parasite in your head, so hells be damned if you can have one bloody night to yourself. One that doesn’t consist of consistently worrying about whether another body will drop dead while you sleep blissfully in the walls of your own home. You need this after all you’ve been through.

Still…

The silence as you walk alongside Shadowheart makes you cringe.

It’s not like she’s angry at you, nor are you at her. You understand her reactions toward Astarion, and you like to think that she does too. But with how things ended with him last time, your interactions with the cleric have grown increasingly curt, with short conversations baring down to the bare necessities. You’ve tried to speak with her, but each time the two of you are alone, the guilt gnaws away at your stomach—your confidence along with it.

This time, you swear. This time you’ll apologize.

“Shadowhea-”

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

You blink. Twice.

She doesn’t look at you, continuing to stride through the city streets. “It was unfair of me to blow up at you for letting Astarion feed. It wasn’t my choice, and I know that. I was only…”

You wait for her to continue, increasing the speed of your footsteps to catch up.

“...It was a selfish reason,” she mutters. “I did not want to lose you to him again. I’ve seen you the last time he hurt you, and you were practically a stranger to all of us. Even with defeating the elder brain, you didn’t seem happy in the slightest. He ruined so much that I—-I instinctively tried to make a decision that I have no control over.”

“It won’t happen again. Lying, I mean,” you blurt immediately. “I’ve learned, as hard as it might be to believe. I don’t want to drift from you again, either. I’m just sorry it took so long to bring this up.”

“I’m in no place to complain. It took weeks for me to understand how in the hells your thought process seems to work…And how you manage to make such bad decisions that somehow have a knack for working out,” she purses her lips. “I still don’t understand. Not completely. But I do also trust you know what you’re doing.”

You don’t know what you’re doing, but you think it’s better to avoid telling her that.

She smiles, and you already feel lighter. “It’s a miracle I’m alive, to be honest.”

“It really is. Trust me, I’d know,” she snorts in return.

“I do have quite the skilled healer at my side, which helps.”

Shadowheart stops in front of Figaro’s store, glancing back at you. You hadn’t even realized the two of you had walked this far, but she shrugs with a smug grin as she pushes through the door.

“Whatever would you do without me?”

You’ve searched the Blushing Mermaid at least a dozen times over now, in case you missed any of Dalyria’s things that might aid you in your search for the other siblings. Despite the tavern owners blocking the entrance, a simple mage hand or two was enough to pry open the wooden boards nailed to the basement door.  It’s been nearly three times now that you’ve come up empty-handed, but what harm could a fourth try do? Sure, you’ve scrummaged her desk seven times alone, but perhaps you might have missed a drawer or two…

The stillness of the night is disturbed as you lift the hatch leading to the basement, waving away the dust that flies into your face. You pocket Dalyria’s journal and begin your descent downward. The humidity hits your cheeks, and you sigh, swallowing your distaste for the crumbling lair to resume your investigation without any distractions. You expect another endless night of useless rummaging through the Hag’s old things and some of Dalyria’s own belongings, but doing nothing would weigh too heavily on your conscious.

Just as you enter the actual lair, you find that you are not alone.

A blond man stands on the other side, his back turned to you as he searches the desk you’ve already looked over multiple times.

Petras.

Sure, you’ve been searching for him for quite a while now, but for him to just waltz into you like this? You’re not sure if you’re insanely lucky or simply unlucky for not having stumbled into him until now. He remains unaware of your presence, and you take the opportunity to reach for your knife, willing your footsteps to feel lighter to avoid detection. Another skill a certain rogue taught you at a certain point, but never mind that.

The floorboard creaks under your weight.

Dammit. You’ve never been as good as he was.

He whips around, immediately on the defense. But as soon as he spots you, his shoulder relaxes, a scowl falling as he blinks. “Oh. You.”

Embarrassment burns in your cheeks, feeling like a child who’s been caught stealing an extra sweet from the cookie jar. Still, you straighten your back, shifting so he can’t see the knife clenched in your hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering when I’d see Astarion’s pet again,” he ignores your question, stepping away from the desk toward you. It makes your body tense. “You’ve been up to quite a lot since the last time we spoke, haven’t you? I hear you nearly captured my sister.”

“I’m not his pet,” you snap, more harshly than you intended. He raises a brow. 

“Fine. His blood bank.”

Your sharp glare is enough to send him your sentiments.

“Not a very willing blood bank, I see.”

“What are you doing here, Petras?” you finally snap.

He ignores you again, and this time, you contemplate chucking the knife at his head. “How’s my brother doing? Horrible, I hope.”

“He’s fine,” you retort through gritted teeth. It’s the nicest thing you can conjure up at the moment. “We would be doing better if you weren’t making a bloodbath of the city.”

“You nearly killed my sister as well.”

“Your sister is the one that attacked us after she said she was going to kidnap Astarion like he’s some sort of object. What was I supposed to do?”

“Well, I can’t blame you. She’s always been stubborn,” he shrugs. “But I am disappointed you chose to take my brother’s side after all he’s done to you. I would pity you, really, if you hadn’t gone and killed almost four of us already.”

“You can’t blame me for self-defense.”

Petras frowns. “Tell me, why didn’t you take our deal?”

“What?”

He paces a few steps toward you, standing at the platform of the lair while you stare up at him in bewilderment. “We’ve been watching you for an extended period of time now. We offered you everything you could possibly gain from a deal like this one, and you still rejected it. You’d get rid of us and keep the city safe. All the while, you’d never have to see my brother again. Dalyria says it barely seemed to phase you. I want to know why.”

“It’s—” you trip over your own tongue. You don’t even know why you feel obligated to answer him. “It just felt right at the time.”

“What kind of half-baked answer is that?”

“I answered your question, didn't I? Now answer mine.”

Petras furrows his brows, glancing at Dalyria’s desk behind him. “I take it you know what we plan to do?”

You purse your lips, and it’s enough of an answer for him.

“I wanted to take Astarion by force, personally. But Leon and Dalyria…they’ve grown considerably soft after Cazador left,” he rolls his eyes at the thought, crossing his arms. “...A shame. That kind of fragility won’t get them anywhere in this world. Those fools are destined to die or to live at the bottom of the barrel, forever feeding on city rats.”

The way he speaks of his siblings makes your stomach churn.

“You’re a bigger fool if you think I’m going to let you go through with the ascension,” you hiss. “You’ll kill all those spawns. They’ve put their trust in you to lead them, and you’re lying straight to their faces as if their lives aren’t worth the crap on your shoes–”

“And how did things turn out the last time you tried to stop the ascension?”

This makes your throat go dry.

“Take this as our last warning, bard. Or else we’ll come and take him ourselves.”

“He’s your brother,” you blurt in exasperation, waving your hand in disbelief. “You can’t possibly want to kill him, even if he’s an asshole from time to time! Cazador is gone. You’re free! There’s nothing else to run away from!”

You don’t know why you’re defending him.

But it pours out of your chest, and you already know trying to choke it back up won’t reverse what’s already been said.

With your words seemingly going in one ear and out the other, Petras clenches his fist at his side and glowers down at you with a sharp inhale. Despite his attempts to appear composed, you can see the vein bulging from his forehead, threatening to burst if you push him any longer. “He stopped being my brother the second he tried to ascend.”

“Still—”

“He attempted to kill the rest of us for the sake of his own wellbeing. What makes him any different than Cazador himself?” he argues. “Cazador always took a special interest in Astarion. I see now that it’s because they’re so similar. In life or in death.”

For some strange reason, this makes your blood burn.

You can hear Astarion’s gasps as his master’s nightmarish toll awoke you both on those starry nights when the parasite still swam in your heads. How cold he’d felt in your arms, rasping into your chest as you calmed him. White curls brushed against your hand as you pulled him close. You’ve never wished to the gods for much, but in that moment, you begged them to let him forget. To give you something—anything—to soothe the trembling of his hands.

Astarion could have been like Cazador. He’d come dangerously close to becoming the very monster that tortured him for centuries, but he hadn’t. Whether it was voluntary or not, it doesn’t matter because, at the end of the day, he isn’t Cazador. And you plan to keep it that way as long as your fingers can still clutch your blade.

“I was planning on paying you a visit,” Petras says, catching your attention once more as he slips out a scroll from his sleeve. “Though I suppose you’ve made this easier on the both of us…especially if you die here.”

You take a step toward him, heels digging into the ground. “If you think I’ll just—”

“If you’ll only get in my way, then I have no problem with watching you perish.”

With a shout, the scroll glows a lime green, and a long groan echoes from the bodies scattered throughout the room.

Shit.

The spawn adjusts his hood back around his head, sparing you a pitiful stare. “You’ve chosen your side, and it's the one that's destined to lose. Good luck, bard…I hope your death isn’t as painful as it could have been at Astarion’s hands.”

And just as the undead begins to crawl toward you with an agonizing screech, he puffs up into a cloud of red smoke and vanishes.

You need a bath. Terribly.

Barely scraping out with your life, you can’t say you’re a pleasing person to look at with the dirt and blood smeared across your body. The sleeve of your shirt is torn open, and while a few healing potions have done the trick to heal most of your injuries, the more minor splits and cuts remain an insistent reminder of the war you’ve just declared with the vampire spawns.

Well, they’re the ones who declared it, but the point stands.

You manage to wash out a lot of the blood by the time you return home, praying your disheveled state can’t be seen with the effort you’ve put in to look presentable. Your worries are put to rest, however, when you realize just how late it’s gotten into the night, as all your companions remain blissfully asleep as you limp into the house, barely able to stand upright.

Everything is a blur. How you managed to fight off a dozen undead is a mystery to you, but it’s not unwelcome. At least there’s nobody here to scold you.

But even that, you realize, is a false sense of security when you sense him from the stairs. You’ve learned not to anticipate any creak in the floorboard when he’s the one pacing on them. Rather, you’ve learned to expect a concerning bloodthirsty presence and two eyes boring into the back of your head as if you’ve grown another head. It eventually becomes easy to sense his aura even from across the living room.

You hope the darkness conceals the bruises on your body. “What do you want?”

“You’re bleeding again,” he says, and it’s not a question. “I could smell it from upstairs.”

A scoff. “What are you? A dog?”

Astarion doesn’t bother responding to your snide comment, coming closer. You can finally see his expression in a daze as he approaches your vicinity. He’s present, but not really, as his focus shifts from you to your hand to your face again repeatedly as if he’s unsure what he’s even doing here.

You’d recognize his mannerisms anywhere.

“Are you drunk?”

“I recall you saying you were visiting the tavern.”

“I was at the tavern.”

He barks a laugh. “My dear, you can tell as many pretty lies to the others but not to me. I can see right through your little game like an open book.”

Curse him.

“I asked you a question first,” you opt to change the subject, remaining firm. “How much did you drink?”

“I didn’t break any rules, as far as I’m aware,” his words slur messily as he leans against the wall, a pink hue spread across his cheeks. “I just drank…a tiny bit more than usual.”

He’s most undoubtedly tipsy, at the very least.

Astarion pushes himself off the wall and toward you, where he squints down at you with what you assume to be some variation of curiosity. His eyes do not hold the usual hostility they usually do, somewhat clouded in a mist of relaxation that’s dangerously close to overflowing. You inch backward.

“Your turn,” he breathes. “Why are you bleeding?”

While you were out risking your life, the bastard must’ve been having the time of his life if the unsteadiness of his steps is any indication. You bite the inside of your cheek bitterly.

“I met Petras just now…more like ambushed, actually,” you respond, pacing the kitchen to wipe off the dirt staining your elbows. You pour yourself a glass of water, but the second it touches your lips, you flinch, the split on your lip still too new to be challenged. So, instead, you set the glass down, eyeing the way he mindlessly stares at you without a thought running through his mind.

Still, he’s giddier than usual, snorting at the state you’re in. “You couldn’t have possibly lost to my brother. He has muscle but barely any wit.”

You remain silent, and his smile grows wider. “Oh! You really let the bastard get away. Well, isn’t this a surprise! Excuse my error; perhaps you aren’t as invincible as I pegged you to be.”

“He caught me off guard.” Hot discomfort courses through your veins.

“Pish posh,” he waves you off, teetering in your direction. “It’s no good if you refuse to admit defeat, my dear. It’ll come back to bite you in the behind later.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes, unmoving from your spot beside the counter as he scrummages around the cabinets for nothing other than the very substance that’s reduced him to this pitiful state. Ironic, you know, considering the tavern had practically been your home only a few months prior. “How did you even get drunk? There isn’t nearly enough blood here for that.”

His face brightens when he finds what he’s been searching for. He uncorks the glass bottle and inhales the stench of blood. While it makes you scrunch your nose, he sighs dreamily, shoulder going slack. “Gale accompanied my hunt again, and I managed to find not one but two bloody bears. One of which was oh so gratefully already wounded. You can be smart when you want to be; I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”

You don’t want to imagine it, actually.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you pluck the bottle from his hands, and his expression immediately falls. He almost looks like a kicked puppy. It makes your chest swell with pride.

“Why? Would you rather I drink from you?” he tries to reach for it, but you step out of the way. “As enticing as that sounds, I’ve already had my fill of exotic blood for tonight. All I need is the dessert to top off the feast I’ve had, and I’ll be satiated for at least a few days.”

You glare at him. “You’re already drunk, you don’t need anymore.”

“But I want more,” he slurs again, and you attempt to move the bottle behind your back, but his hand is already expecting this maneuver. With embarrassing ease, the bottle slips into his grasp, and he takes a long sip of blood while forgetting how you remain caged against the counter, arms blocking any sort of exit you can take to slip away.

You can count his eyelashes from this distance.

He lifts his hand to wipe at his mouth, and much to your relief, you manage to escape the suffocating feeling of being surrounded by him. His scent, his voice, just everything. You close your fists, itching to retreat into the comforts of your own bedroom rather than continue to watch his focus zone in and out until narrowing down on you. “Are you done?”

“Mm, it’s sweet, but not sweet enough. It’s not quite a dessert, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t even like sweet things,” you scoff. You don’t know why you remember this. You shouldn’t remember this. It’s not even your concern anymore.

He stares at you. “I make exceptions.”

Unwillingly to figure out the implications of his words (and whether or not it comes off as a threat), you run a hand through your hair and sigh. “Petras seems hell-bent on kidnapping you.”

“Let him try. The poor fool wouldn’t stand a chance against any of us, much less all of us simultaneously. At least it’ll make for quite a show.”

“And let him kill more people in the process?”

Astarion tilts his head, albeit only slightly. He lacks the usual polish of his charm. “Ah, we couldn’t dare allow a few unlucky souls to perish. It’s not like the inevitable fate of death is waiting for them anyway.”

Sarcasm dripping from his tongue, you decide he’s not nearly sober enough to talk about this. He’s barely keeping himself upright with his arms perched on either side of the counter. He’s close enough that the scent of blood muddles all of your other senses. The softness in his eyes makes you squirm, and the small voice in your head that is your intuition screams for you to get away before…well, you’re not sure what, but it’s what it’s telling you.

“Go to bed,” you order him, though it sounds more like a plea. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“The night’s only begun, though.”

The answer spews out immediately. “I miss to see where that’s my problem.”

Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh to me, love.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the nickname catches you off guard. It’s one he hasn’t called you since…everything. One that you’ve learned to bury into whatever corner you can find in your memories, hoping never to see them again. For a split moment, you can feel your resolve falter. Still, you refuse to show him what a simple word does to you and steel your will to leave this for a proper time when you’re both not nearly delirious. One from blood and the other from a battle.

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink. 

Has he always looked at you like this?

He’s not just drunk, you reason. He’s completely wasted.

“Astarion,” you lean away. “You’re drunk.”

He ignores your warnings with a click of his tongue. “My mind is clearer than it's ever been after I got that damn parasite out of my head.”

His delirious expression says otherwise.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh irritably. “Whatever game you’re playing, I want none of it. I’m tired, so just leave me be, will you? Get out of my way.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“You’re the one blocking me from leaving!” you fume, pointing at his arm.

“That’s not what I mean. You’re…” he sighs, dropping his head wearily. “…you’re no different than that parasite, come to think of it.”

Appalled, you just gawk at him, jaw agape. “Please tell me I did not just hear you say that.”

He laughs, throwing his head back as he straightens his back. His arms fall back to his side, providing you just enough space to squeeze out of the way, but you find yourself staring up at him as he recollects himself. “It’s rather frustrating. I suppose, at the very least, unlike that worm, you’re a pretty thing to look at.”

What in the hells is going on?

First, he calls you a parasite and then proceeds to flatter you barely two seconds later, having nothing but hazy blurs in that thick skull of his. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to kill you again next. In fact, you think it’s probably best to retreat now when you can—even if he’s gazing down at you as if he expects an answer to his previous statement.

You should leave.

Your legs remain rooted in place.

You should definitely leave.

“Call me that again, and I’ll install bars on your windows,” you grumble, only half meaning it. Mainly because it would be a hassle to build. “Just go, Astarion. I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Convince me.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

“Convince me that you don’t want me here,” he says firmly. “Then I’ll leave.”

Gods, has he lost it?

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever not? I may deceive you, but I always take you seriously. You must know this.”

Barely stopping yourself from punching that smug smile off his face, your brows furrow. And with gritted teeth, you hiss. “Well, for one, you stink of blood.”

“What a pleasant fragrance indeed.”

“Two,” you continue. “You’re barely standing on both feet, which tells me you aren’t in any position to discuss what I want to right now—which, by the way, is your own damn brother.”

He hums.

“Three, you’re an asshole.”

“Very convincing, darling.”

“So I’ve heard,” you snap, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to say more?”

Astarion steps closer, making your shoulders tense. “Tell me more about how I’m an asshole.”

The blood he drank must contain some sort of drug, surely.

“You leave bottles all over the living room,” you begin, and slowly, the words begin to spill out as if they’ve been waiting to be thrown at him for a while now. “You don’t help clean at all. You make jokes only you find funny. You fight with Shadowheart all the time, and it makes everyone uncomfortable. You walk around at three in the morning and scare the crap out of me just because I wanted some water.”

He nods. “Go on.”

“You’re always sneaking out, even though we tell you not to. You don’t even tell us where you’re going and then get surprised when Lae’zel wants to execute you again! You come home at bizarre times, and the hallway smells like blood all the time, and—and—-” You’re rambling now, you realize, but you’re too exhausted to give a rat’s ass about it. So instead, you push a finger into his chest pointedly, scowling. “---you’re just not pleasant to be around. You’re the biggest asshole I’ve met, and trust me when I’ve met a lot of assholes. I’d rather all of them than you.”

Astarion’s lashes flutter as his gaze flits across your face. “Is that so?”

With narrowed eyes, your fists tighten. “Hells, I don’t even know why I’m here with you because I should’ve been at the tavern sleeping with some other random bastard by now if your damn brother didn’t-”

Suddenly, the breath in your lungs is knocked out as the back of your hips bumps against the counter, knocking over your glass of water.

Before you can discern whatever emotions are being evoked by his lack of awareness, the already minimal distance between the two of you closes as he smashes his lips against yours. It’s harsh. Fueled by hatred, it’s by no means a pleasant show of affection. It burns, sending sparks throughout your entire body as you sink into his touch, feeling the full force of the smallest of movements; he seems dangerously close to what you might describe as desperate.

Unable to fully process what’s happening, you only stand there, stock still.

Your eyes might fall out of its sockets with how wide they are.

He’s kissing you. 

Astarion is kissing you.

And instinctively, your body, if for a split moment, kisses back.

What. The. Fuck.

Thankfully, you’re quick to realize what’s happening, and you abruptly shove him away, stumbling in the process. It seems he’s sobered up on his end because he appears just as shocked as you are, the blood staining his pretty lips being the only proof that the kiss did indeed happen. He blinks rapidly, first trying to take in your expression. You don’t think you’ve seen him this lost in ages. But that's not your concern right now.

He starts. “Darling, I–”

Your fist punches into his stomach, and he reels.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer

[reiderwriter]

Hii~ First of all I love your writing!

Now about the request... I really wanted one where Spencer is dating a painter who has the personality of a black cat (we all know that our Reid is a total golden retriever type) and everyone thinks that she is the dominant one of the couple since she has this more punk/alternative style, but the team couldn't be more wrong! A soft!Dom Spencer makes her obey and yield every time! ~thank u

A/N: Thanks so much for the request! I can definitely see myself making a part two for this if enough people are interested!! For now though, enjoy! ~✨

Warnings: mentions of public sex, BDSM roles, mentions of using dog collars in a sexual way, mentions of creampie.

Here's my masterlist and requests are open!~

“I can’t believe we’re finally meeting your mystery girl tonight, Reid. You’ve been so quiet about her, we’d have never even known if Penelope hadn’t hacked your phone on a hunch.” Emily laughed at the man from her perch at the bar, raising her glass in a cheers with her fellow agents. 

“I’m not too sure she really exists, you know. I know what my baby girl said but the kid graduated from MIT, and we know texts can be doctored,” Morgan teased from the other side of the younger man. 

In response, he simply rolled his eyes and let them continue their fun and games. He’d known the two agents for long enough to know that their teasing was loving, if not entirely warranted. He’d only kept you a secret because you’d asked him to, having wanted to make a good first impression on them. He’d have gladly shouted your name from the rooftops, but you were on the shy side sometimes. 

“Oh you’re just jealous. You want me to help you take a little honey home tonight, Derek?” Emily turned on the other man this time and Reid breathed a sigh of relief that the attention was finally off of him.

“I am perfectly capable of collecting all by myself, thank you very much.” He turned an amused eye out to the rest of the bar, surveying the women in the bar like a predator looking or it’s next victim. 

“What about that one? She good enough for the Derek Morgan?” Spencer glanced up at where she was pointing at the same time as the aforementioned male did and did his best to repress his smile. Emily had glanced to the door, where you stood, outfitted in a tight black dress, chunky thigh high boots and a stoic expression. You’d carefully washed all the paint that usually adorned your hair and face away, armouring yourself in red lipstick and dog collar choker, letting the look speak for itself. 

“Now that is a nice piece of work, but not exactly what I’m into, sweet cheeks. I prefer my ladies a little bit less wild. A little more compliant if you pick up what I’m putting down.” 

“Coward. Dominant women are more fun, right Reid?” Emily smiled back at the other man, but he was looking past the two of them waving to you. 

“Oh great, you’re here. Emily, Derek I want you to meet my girlfriend, Y/N.” He grabs your hand and leads you the rest of the way to where they were standing, the grin on his face widening exponentially as the two splutter, praying to god that you didn’t just hear the tail end of their conversation about you. 

“Hi, great to meet you. And yes, Emily, I agree. Dominant women do seem to have a lot of fun,” you winked at the woman a little bit and let your boyfriend excitedly drag you over to the bar to buy you a drink. 

Recovering first, Emily pulled herself back into the barstool she’d recently vacated, and started asking you questions. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” 

“At the library actually. I was there installing a mural, and I saw him and decided I had to have him.” You smiled fondly up at your boyfriend, as he rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink. You’d perched yourself between his legs, leaning your entire bodyweight back into his chest possessively, as he trailed a light hand over your waist. 

“You’re a painter? Wow, that’s so wonderful.” 

“Yeah, that’s the dream anyway. I also work part time at an art gallery downtown to help pay the bills. It’s where he tracked me down, so it worked out pretty well, I guess.” 

“Tracked you down?” Morgan asked. 

“Yeah, after our first… run in, I forgot to give him my number.” 

“Run in? You said you met at the library, what else did you do if you forgot to swap numbers?” Emily laughed, half-heartedly, then stopped as soon as she saw the smug grin on your face paired with the awkward panicked expression on Reid’s. 

“Shut up. No way, wait I don’t even want to hear this.” 

You smiled up at the man, knowing that the way his two coworkers were imagining that first meeting was probably the exact opposite of how it had gone. Sure, you’d told the truth about approaching him first, but that was the extent of your control of the situation. You’d gone over to ask for his number, find out his name and ask if he was single. You’d returned to work an hour later with sore knees, no panties and a load of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

He hadn’t even allowed you to give him his number, just promised that he’d find you again, and vanished from the library bathroom stalls you’d christened in sin with a lingering kiss on your lips and a whisper of “good girl.” You’d fallen for him hard, and you never wanted to get back up. 

“Wow. And he was so desperate to find you again that he followed you to work. We taught you better than that, Reid, come on. You’re going to freak out the ladies if you come on that strong.” Morgan began teasing the man, ruffling his hair, and you bit your tongue to stop the laughter from exploding from your mouth. 

You knew from your appearances that people often came to the wrong conclusions about how you and Reid were as a couple. Your style was more alternative, though not as intense as you’d been in high school, and his was more preppy nerd, but you balanced each other out well. You knew that it irked him sometimes though. And whenever he was pissed, he took it out on you in the best way. 

After a few hours in the bar getting to know Morgan and Prentiss, and the two other lovely ladies who had arrived later, JJ and Penelope, Reid’s grip on your waist tightening made it clear that it was time for you to go home together. 

“I think we’re going to head out now, guys. I’ll see you in the office on monday.” He said and moved off, but you wanted to see how far you could push it tonight, wanting to see the lengths he would take to not show his teammates that they had vastly misunderstood your relationship. 

“But Spence, I just met them. I wanna talk some more,” you smirked up at him now, and saw his jaw clench. You were thankful you’d work the dog collar choker tonight, the thought of him grabbing it to yank you away making you squeeze your thighs together for some much needed friction. 

“We’re going now, baby. Come here.” You ignored the order for another second, and you could feel the heat in his gaze, and the curiosity in his friends as they watched this struggle between you. 

“Sweetie, did you hear me, I said we’re going now?” This time, you knew he wasn’t playing anymore, so with a quick “yes, sir,” you pushed yourself out of your seat and practically skipped over to him, a delighted grin on your face. He cupped you neck, wanting desperately to pull you in by the neck but choosing restraint instead, and brushed his lips to yours. Whenever he kissed you like that, it meant you’d caused trouble, and you knew you were going to spend the night paying for it. 

“Bye-bye, everyone, it was so nice to meet you,” you called as he led you out of the doors and into the carpark. 

“What the hell was that?” Penelope was the first one to crack, the others jaws still dropped to the floor. 

“Did she just call him sir?” JJ laughed in incredulity. 

“But-but I could’ve sworn they were…” Emily blubbered and the four of them sat there staring at the door, realising that they had underestimated their resident genius a little bit too much. 

[2knightt]

may u do the gang with a significant other who is in a popular band or actor? up to four preference of course. lots of love!

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ darling, can i be your favourite? ⋄ 𓍯

REQUESTED: reader’s the coolest person ever and the gang’s their biggest fan!

tags/warnings: headcanons, gn!reader, reader is a singer/popstar!reader, gang is obsessed, reader is big time famous, near the end they got shorter because my tumblr started lagging.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ hey my love !!! seen this after i posted and knew i had to get to work 🙂‍↕️ also while i was working on this, i got a req for actor!reader..ur in luck🤭

—

johnny cade

╰┈➤ now playing. — espresso, y/n l/n

how he bagged you, the world may never know. like seriously.

YOU’RE ON THE BIG SCREEN AND YOU’RE IN THE RADIO AND YOU GO AFTER JOHNNY CADE??? everyone was shocked. lives were CHANGED.

“you’re dating who?”

“..y/n l/n?”

“in your dreams maybe???”

“fuck you?”

nobody believed him because you confessed to him over the phone when you were touring 😔! you realized you really liked johnny when you had to be away from him for so long.

so for like that period of time, it was just call after call of you two giggling back and forth.

the gang, swear to fucking god, knew he was talking to someone but they thought he was lying about who he was talking to

UNTIL YOU CAME BACK!!!!

Then they were all,

“what the fuck….”

“can i like—borrow a 20?”

“DAMN”

spoil him. take him with you. protect johnny cade with ur money or else. i find you.

but seriously, pleaseeee make sure johnny lives the life he deserves ☹️ since you’re a singer, you make a FUCK ton of money

put it to good use (spending it on johnny cade)

hey! you’re all he talks about!! HE DOESN’T STFU THAT HE’S DATING SOMEONE THAT’S FAMOUS.

“what ‘bout you, lil’ boy? you got someone?”

“hell yeah. y/n l/n.😇💯”

“..the singer?”

“damn right, ‘the singer’!”

listens to your music when he misses you!!

OH MU GOD WRITE A SONG ABOUT JOHNNY CADE PLEASEEEE AND WEAR HIS JEAN JACKRT ON STAGE PLEASEEEEEEE

i can’t stress how much he loves you

he has photos of you everywhere. and anywhere.

steals magazines you model for to promote your albums<3

dallas winston

╰┈➤ now playing — nonsense, y/n l/n.

why would you pick him.

shame on you. you have celebrities flocking to you and you pick some guy in tulsa who’s in jail every friday.

tsk tsk. whatever makes you happy!

ANYWAYS

also, never shuts the fuck up about you. like seriously, somehow, you’re always the topic of conversation.

“yeah, that’s crazy that she slashed your tires. my LOVELY Y/N would never tho. did you know they sing? you’ve probably heard of ‘em-“

MAKES YOU WEAR HIS RINGS WHEN YOU PERFORM!!! AND SOMETIMES HIS LEATHER JACKET!!! DALLAS DGAF IF IT’S DIRTY OR NOT

He needs those freaks in the crowd to know you’re HIS—not theirs just because you’re famous.

if you ever collab with a dude he’s gonna fucking lose his mind i’m not kidding

“YOU’RE GOING TO THE STUDIO WITH WHO???”

“i told you-“

“yeah, i know. lets go.”

dallas invited himself btw.

dedicate a song to him and he’s literally gonna make EVERYONE listen to it. when it comes on the radio, he’s IMMEDIATELY turning up the volume.

“looking at you got me thinkin’ nonsense.”

“that’s about me, by the way.”

“WE KNOW.”

“YOU TELL US THIS EVERY DAMN DAY”

“yeah. where’s your partner that write songs about you? huh? take that shit up with someone else.”

IN HIS ROOM HE HAS SOOO MANY POSTERS OF YOUUUUUU

cannot believe he got so lucky and bagged you

he used to pray for days like these😭😭🙏

ponyboy curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — work song, y/n l/n.

yes, i did make your song more poetic than the rest. that’s just what ponyboy is into and gets him crying.

did he get lucky? yeah. does he acknowledge that every waking moment of his life and devotes himself to making sure you never feel the burden of having to perform daily?

yeah

helps you write songs sometimes. ponyboy naturally has a poets soul so USE IT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE

GUVE HIM A FUCKING OEN AND PAPER AND HE’S WRITING A HIT SINGLE

omgomg if you credit him while at your concerts he might faint<3333

spoil him and his brothers.

his brothers are included because you see how much they’re struggling and it literally pains you to see the love of ur life get so frustrated over money

sneakily put money into darry’s wallet when he isn’t looking and ponyboy might just kiss u right then and there

it’ll take awhile for him to accept the help, but when he does—he’s so grateful to have an angel like u in his life😭😭💔💔💔

“i love you. did you know that?”

“of course i do, pony.”

“i should tell you that more often.”

uses a photo of you as a bookmark btw. it’s you in his favourite outfit you ever wore, performing the song you made for him.

ponyboy’s obsessed.

shoves ANYONE off the tv to watch you perform. he doesn’t care. and the gang lets him<3 cuz they know how much you mean to their little pony!!

not without teasing. never without teasing. ponyboy is never fucking free

“soda, it’s my turn on the tv.”

“what? you tryna watch your girlfriend?”

“…shut up.”

“look at you! what a loverboy, huh? you loveeeee her, don’t you?”

“man, just get off the tv!”

watches & listens to everything you’re in. wether it be interviews, music videos, etc—he can probably quote it. every part.

he’s so obsessed with you it’s not fucking funny

sodapop curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — that boy is mine, y/n l/n.

it couple. genuinely.

you got soda more publicity and modeling agencies have definitely hit him up LMFAO

he most definitely has modelled with you for covers :3c

BUT OTHER THAN THAT

oh u better fucking believe that the DX is always playing your music

SODA DOESNT CARE IF HE’S NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE RADIO

he will. and he will be playing the song you made about him to remind the girls that go to flirt with him that he’s yours.

HE HAS A NECKLACE WITH YOUR INITAL ON IT AND YOU HAVE A NECKLACE WITH HIS INITAL!!1!1!1!1!1

flash it when paparazzi takes photos and he WILL put that photo in his wallet to show people when they ask about his partner.

CANT STFU EVEN IF HE FUCKING TRIED

soda makes u his whole personality

“sigh😔 y/n would’ve loved this beat..”

“SHUT UP ABOUT Y/N😒”

“NO?? I LOVE THEM!!!???”

LOVES PRACTICING UR CHOREOGRAPHY WITH YOU LMFAOOO

it’s so cute☹️☹️😔😔 soda might trip over his feet every once and awhile but he’s always laughing so hard with you when he does<3

darry curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — say yes to heaven, y/n l/n.

tries SOOOO hard to act like he doesn’t gaf that you’re singer but it’s so tough to not brag about it

the boys at work could be talking about their partners but when they go ask darry, he hides his grin and blush by looking down, running his hands through his hair.

“what ‘boutchu, kid? how’s the lover?”

“ah, y’know. they’re busy touring or in the studio.”

“eh?”

“oh—y/n l/n. they’re-“

darry cannot be stopped now. he won’t shut up about how great of a person you are, never letting the fame get to you.

ERAHHH HE STAYS UP LATE AT NIGHT TO WATCH YOUR PERFORMANCES WHEN YOU’RE AWAY!!!!!!! HE LOVES WATCHING YOU SWAY ACROSS THE STAGE!!

hehehehehe slow dance with him in the kitchen to ur unreleased songs you made about him…. 😈😈

PLEAEE HELP HIM FINANCIALLY PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

im begging you to just sit darry curtis down and try to convince him that, you giving him money to help around, isn’t an issue.

i don’t see darry moving out of the curtis house unfortunately, i think he will always view it as his parents house and it’s too sentimental.

so, don’t even bother asking him to move. but—do give him money. or sneakily pay the bills. whatever you have to do to help darry relax, please do it!!!

loves it when you sing slower/more relaxing songs

darry thinks it’s so attractive to hear your like soothing, breathy, and smooth voice.

he has a photo framed of you bowing toward the crowd below you, tightly holding the microphone that you had his name engraved in.

it’s currently beside his bed on his nightstand.

he looks at it every night before bed and every morning before work. <3

steve randle

╰┈➤ now playing — art deco, y/n l/n.

he’s feral. he’s fucking crazy about you.

“PUT ON THAT NEW Y/N SHIT‼️”

“why??”

“CAUSE I SAID SO?!1”

number one supporter. nobody comes close to him

AHHHH HE HAS A TATTOO DEDICATED TO YOU!!!! IT’S DEFINITELY A SONG LYRIC YOU WROTE ABOUT HIM IN UR HAND WRITING

when steve’s nervous he traces over it :3c

steve always finds himself, unconsciously, humming your songs while he works on cars!

i like to think his favourite colour is blue, so plsplsplspls wear blue (even if it’s a small accessory) to your concerts just so steve knows you’re always thinking about him.

he keeps little gifts, or rather the accessories you leave at his house, in a little box. he thinks they’re so cute and he will burn a building down before he lets anyone find out

two-bit mathews

╰┈➤ now playing — melting, y/n l/n.

“DID YOU KNOW I’M DATING Y/N? THE FAMOUS SINGER? YEAH, BET YOU WISH THAT WAS YOU😭😂!”

that’s every other sentence from his stupid lips!!

KNOWS EVERY LYRIC TO YOUR SONGS AND WILL SCREAM HIS FUCKING LUNGS OUT TO THEM!!!

attach a mickey charm to ur mic while you sing on stage and he’ll start foaming at the mouth..

two-bit’s all, “that’s for me.:mickey….me….me…mickey….”

he literally begs you to sing him to sleep

STEALS YOUR RECORDS/VINYLS???!!! HE HANGS THEM UP ON HIS WALL WITH SUCH CARE IT’S SO ADORABLE ☹️☹️

teach his little sister some of your dance moves and he might marry you tbh.

two-bit dreams of you and i’m so fucking serious

[anantaru]

— dodging his kiss

including kaveh, thoma, xiao, scaramouche x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, i love making them suffer

— kaveh

"hey no fair! give me a kiss."

nonsense. utter nonsense. kaveh wondered what had started all of this.

the urge, or let's rephrase that, the sudden interest you took to squabble at every minuscule situation, alternating between being his sweet significant other or turning into a taunting little devil.

again, before he was about to leave for the akademiya, kaveh helplessly required from you to send him off with a kiss, just one, but as he went on to fill the distance between you both, you quickly tipped your head to the side in order for him to barely hit your cheek.

he's frowning, the warm air he exhaled tiptoeing on your skin.

"why are you like this?" for an individual as romantic as kaveh seemed to be, you sure had him on the edge the entire time, tickling out every sweet reaction you desired to witness and archons, was he easy to get to this state.

one might think that being roommates with the scribe surely had his sensitive nerves tightened, had them turned to clear, unbreakable diamonds that weren't able to be messed with.

"you're cute when you're angry." you shamelessly admitted back to him, benevolently conveying the sweetest smile you had stored while watching him pout, settling for a closer spot next to you when he ultimately caged you in with his arms.

and when he was hardly an inch away from your face, kaveh decided to give you a taste of your own, bitter medicine.

"really? so you're only cute when you're nice."

dramatically, and in his usual fashion, kaveh tipped his head back to deflect his attention from you to the ceiling, nervously waiting for a response back while also mentally praying to the dendro archon that he didn't cause you any pain with his words.

you see, it was quite seldom for him to tease you back, to push you over the edge because in reality he clearly enjoyed the differences in personalities you both shared.

it's also safe to say that he preferred your minimal plays to that of his roommates, who'd always go too far like last time when he casually decided to grab both keys, making it impossible for kaveh to sleep in their shared home so that he had to come over, in the midst of the night, to stay overnight at your place.

(not that you mind, if anything, you'd love it when alhaitham could repeat the corresponding situation as much as he desired to.)

your smile, in a sudden, slowly disappears when it after a couple of seconds, rose back up in a contagious laughter, your palm subconsciously hiding your mouth, "you're really bad at this."

with your final words, you quickly grabbed his chin to pull him closer for a kiss, missing his bewildered guise when you drew yourself back again.

"i have other qualities, you know?"

kaveh spoke in a low tone, a little hazy, still seeking for more when he had long since forgotten that he actually wanted to leave for the akademiya.

— thoma

"hey." kindly, thoma carried your hand in his palm when he gently brought you to his warm chest, "my break is almost over."

he looks sullen, thoma was saddened that he couldn't spend more time with you, just a little longer, but it had been quite a busy evening today in which he was greatly required, his helping hands were obviously not to be compared with any other.

thoma gingerly hooked his arms around your waist before flaring his soft lips over your forehead, attempting to lower his face to place a chaste, goodbye kiss on top of your lips.

little does he realize you didn't actually plan to receive said affection from him as you swiftly flopped your head to the right direction so he'd clumsily hit your ear instead.

"uh-" at first he thought it was him who took an incorrect approach on this, supposedly seizing the right opportunity at the wrong time.

"i'm sorry." he nervously laughs at you while anxiously rubbing his neck, his eyes a bit scrunched together.

you shouldn't be so joyful when he tapped right into your scheme, fell into it head first, more so when he attempted to kiss you right again, this time being slightly embarrassed and irritated that he had messed it up the first time.

because how on earth did he even manage to accomplish that?

and when thoma carried on with his endeavor, you, at full tilt, angled your head to the left side, ensuring that he missed again.

as disoriented as he was at present, he recalled the past few seconds and skimmed through the situation at hand, his undisturbed utterance evolving into a coquettish guise, "really now?"

your chest muscles pitched together when you puffed out a breathless laugh, excessively amused by his bafflement, well, maybe you were a little pain sometimes, but that's what made thoma fall in love with you in the first place.

"my love." he instantaneously speaks up upon catching a glimpse of your triumphant smile bolstering around the corners of your lips, "i need a kiss from you, right now." he made sure to speak the last words exceptionally clear, as to get his point across.

you're welcoming him, eventually twisting your hands around his neck to place a warm kiss on his lips, mumbling out an innocent 'sorry', yet you cannot find the proper tone in your voice to say it, because in reality you weren't sorry in the slightest.

"why do i feel like you aren't actually sorry?"

though bristling with joy, thoma wasn't actually oblivious as well as new to your usual approaches.

the hilarity of it all was heartwarming, or the new perspective of affection shared by you.

before you let him go at last, you gently pulled him to you so your lips would hover on his ear, aiming to set your intentions clear.

whispering, "because i‘m not."

— xiao

on a tranquilizing evening, your lashes slowly fluttered wide to divulge your eyes to xiao while still remaining enclosed by his arms.

idly, you paid attention to the low thumps of his heart under his ribcage. Your grin was wide from ear to ear, happy at how peaceful it had gotten when you perceived how xiao begun to sluggishly roll himself up.

he tried his utter best to rouse himself from the relaxing atmosphere, to split himself from the slothful— he so referred to it, climate to return to his established routine.

"i have to go now." his golden eyes were all the more compelling under the dim lighting, illuminating their instinctive glowing when he centralized his focus on you. "i will return afterwards."

his breathing nervously hitched, a little, before he decided to add something to his intuitive words, "if you want me to."

delicately, you placed your hand on top of his to calmly ghost your thumb over his knuckles, "of course, i always want you to visit me."

at the realization of your words, xiao's face elated with a rosy shade, a diligent smile creating small wrinkles on his handsome face while his ears tipped a red color.

with another innocent flutter of his eyelashes, he carefully sank back to your frame, aiming to complete his visit with a serene, pacifying kiss.

but, given you were on quite the adventure today, or maybe you had gotten a bit intrigued and interested as to how someone like xiao would react to your almost menacing schemes, you directly dodged his kiss which had him hit your pillow instead.

oblivious to the entire situation you had carefully planted onto him, his face shrunk, "i.. i apologize." yet before you could retort to his words, he insisted in trying it a second time.

his gaze was visibly confused, again when he sought out your left cheek as a substitute, suffering once more when you skillfully dodged it without moving a single muscle.

his reverent, peaceful behavior was threatened by you, as well as your, over the top, innocent stare even after pulling through with your evilness.

"what's the meaning of this?" xiao was commenting on your behavior, his lips were vaguely pursed in a confused way, accentuating the small wrinkles on his forehead. "what do you mean?"

you acknowledged your boyfriend's question but replied in an opposite direction, concealing a bright laugh.

xiao's eyes were a tone lower when he fully sank to you, just about to nearly tower over you.

"you're doing this on purpose." he carefully placed your cheek in his palm before gently ghosting his thumb over your lips, as to try to regain some sort of control over the situation because now, he had you actually figured out.

yet do not get him wrong because contrary to popular believe, xiao found it quite amusing whenever you set forth a somewhat childish, playful behavior like this one in particular.

you weren't a boring human and the small ministrations were usually the highlight of his entire day, like a ray of sunlight peaking from behind the dense, darkened clouds.

"maybe i did." you bluntly chimed back to him, audaciously smiling and cradling his wrist with your hand while leaning into his palm, absorbing his welcoming affability.

"and why is that?" his voice grew calmer and soft, xiao didn't smile often but whenever he did, it's as if the whole world would stand still of a sudden, allowing time to freeze on its entirety.

his senses began to feel the tranquility in your lowered breathing as he suffocated the distance from you, tamely positioning his lips on top of yours, rendering you speechless.

— scaramouche

fundamentally speaking, when scaramouche appeared to be piqued by an irritating occurrence, it was often for him to find comfort in your company, purifying in your gentle clasp.

"the audacity some people display on a daily basis." he heaves at you, slurring while anger thrummed in his body. "whatever." he clicked his tongue.

quickened, scaramouche rubbed his eyes, tampering through his thoughts when his lids fluttered wide to scamper over your face. "at least this boring day is close to its end." your brightened laugh served as a response to his mumbling, vibrating through his being.

archons, how dearly he had missed you, scaramouche longed to see you each passing hour of the day, to at last, be tightly entangled in your arms again, candidly arriving home.

yet as he was appearing to nervously fidget with your shirt, amplifying that he was in his thoughts, you tilted your head to the side to conveniently survey over his features.

and when he noticed, a rush of excitement tipped its way to his cheeks, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

"i think you haven't kissed me today, kuni." you suddenly speak, complying with his thoughts and sometimes scaramouche asked himself if you actually were proficient in reading his thoughts.

"i haven't?" he's a little coy, scattering his hand over your collarbones before settling on your cheek, blood rushing through your face, "i should change that."

you made sure to give yourself a mental applaud later by how easy you had him laced around your finger with kuni being perfectly set for your so called prank.

he didn't waste much time to get to his promise, eagerly striving to kiss your lips when you swiftly clasped your hand on top of your mouth, leaving him behind— utterly bewildered.

his hands tightly clung into the soft bedsheets next to you, his brows furrowing together in confusion, "seriously?"

with all the galling, tiresome people scaramouche had to deal with today, this surely was the icing on top, not to mention how it came from his own significant other.

he slowly pulled away to see you laugh frantically, trying to figure out how to explain this to him, "so this is funny to you?" he takes a moment to summarize before at once, targeting your belly to tickle and pinch the flesh.

you squealed out in surprise, "ah— no please!" unexpectedly you began to beg, evoking whiny screams from your throat, which were now thoroughly in vein, your once innocent scheme twisting into his grasp when scaramouche continued to tickle and pinch you, "now, now."

he's lowering his face to you, smiling when he perceived your warm cheeks and amusing expression, his voice tinted with something akin to hilarity and glee, "how disgraceful of you to fool me like this."

"you're one to talk." you immediately bite back, your hands lifting up to his face to playfully squeeze his squishy cheeks in your palms, "i was trying to see how you'd react."

you disclosed your real intention behind your show, innocently pouting as to convince him to stop the abuse on your belly.

"i think i deserve more than that." scaramouche proceeded to ghost his hand over your stomach, sinking closer to your frame to try again, with you this time knowing well to suffocate any tricks in the near future.

you're greeting him with an affectionate kiss, melting into him while soliciting the warm hearted love you held towards each other.

"maybe i should punish you like this more often." - "please don't."

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

[headcanonenthusiast]

König NSFW headcanons

It was certainly a close call on the last poll, but König won! So, as promised, here are some NSFW headcanons of this absolute behemoth of a man 😎

I also like König, personally, but it will never not be hilarious to me that this dude doesn't have nearly as much screentime, development, and well, almost everything compared to other characters like Price or Ghost yet SKYROCKETED to popularity while the other members of KorTac are ignored 😭 Ppl like what they like ig.

(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)

NSFW under the cut.

-He's quite obviously noticed by now that he's tall as fuck.

-And the cocky bastard 100% uses that to his advantage.

-Will back you up against anything and trap you there. The wall, a countertop, a corner, anywhere and everywhere he can trap you with his body.

-Now, how him trapping you plays out depends on how you act.

-If you're more playful and disobedient? He's a lot more rough, more demanding, more determined to pin you down and take what he wants.

-"Are you going to do what I say? Or are you going to keep acting like a fucking slut?"

-But if you're more inclined to submit to him, he's the exact opposite. He treats you so delicately, as if you were an expensive vase he doesn't want to break.

-"Oh, I'm sorry, meine liebe. Did I startle you? I didn't mean to."

-Then he's gently pulling you into his chest as his giant hands roam your body.

-Major size kink. The shorter you are compared to him = the gentler he is. Just feel like he doesn't have the heart to be too harsh on you if the height difference is more drastic.

-"No, no, no. I'm not doing that to you, meine liebe."

-His hands run all over your body in a gentle manner, practically cooing and begging at you to change your request. He's too anxious about hurting you if you're much shorter.

-"I don't think you could take it, schatz. You're so much smaller than me, there's no way it won't hurt for you."

-Does love hearing you beg, though. So if you ask really nicely, and repeat your chosen safeword like 50 times, and give him more time to prep you, he might give in.

-"Fine, fine. But, you tell me the moment it hurts, ja? Ja, good. Good girl/boy."

-The way he acts is honestly so dependant on how his partner acts, although he almost always insists on being dominate. That's set in stone.

-But as much as he insists on being on top, he won't be too rough unless you have consented beforehand and act like more of a brat.

-So focused on your eyes at all times, not just when he's pounding you.

-"What? Why are you eyeing me like that?"

-And then when you beg for sex, he'll chuckle with his arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face.

-"Oh, that's why. Alright, fine. I'll give you what you want."

-Does make you beg no matter how you act, though.

-"If, and only if, you ask nicely."

-And if you refuse? May God have mercy on you, because König certainly won't.

-"And just who the hell are you to speak to me that way, huh? When did you become such a brat?"

-Narrows his eyes and is absolutely appaled when you swear at him. Like, hand to his chest, overly dramatic ass expression on his face as if you've actually hurt his feelings and this isn't all consensual.

-"Fine, then I'll just find a better use for that filthy little mouth of yours."

-A huge sucker (no pun intended) for blowjobs.

-If you're someone who likes it rougher and prefers being a brat, he's gonna go a bit harsher on your throat. He gives you a long af lecture for no reason, ranting while his giant fingers dig into your hair.

-"Why do you make things so difficult, liebling? Why?"

-Big fan of fucking you dumb. Prays that he's able to basically turn your mind to mush everytime. And when he does, his ego skyrockets.

-"It must be because you're such a little slut for me. Is that right? Habe ich damit recht, liebling? Was für eine Schlampe du für mich bist."

-But, if you give him a blowjob and are listening to him, it'd go something more like this.

-"You don't have to take it all at once, schatz. It's too much for you."

-"Careful, darling. Don't choke on my cock, now. Don't make your throat sore."

-And he's gently rubbing the back of your head, content hums and moans falling from his lips as he admires you sucking his cock.

-5 inches soft, 7 inches hard and you already know it's fat asf (lord have MERCY 😶)

-Carries you around a lot. Will gladly fuck you with you in his arms if you let him.

-Always grabbing onto your hips, thighs, and even your belly if you're chubbier. He just needs a partner he can grab onto while having sex.

-Really likes to tap the tip of his cock against your clit/dick/ass. Smiles if it makes you twitch a little.

-Praises your pussy/ass constantly for how tight it is.

-"Fuck, this pussy/ass is so tight. Feels so good.."

-And it's either he's cumming super deep inside of you, or he's pulling out at the last minute to paint your pussy lips/ass cheeks with his cum.

-Always enjoys seeing the finished product afterwards, whether it's inside or on you.

-And if you're chubbier? He wants to cum on that belly. In fact, he will. There's barely anything to stop him (besides you using your safeword, ofc) from cumming on your belly.

-"There we go, my perfect little liebling. You look so pretty/handsome painted in my cum."

-He also seems to count eating you out/sucking you off as aftercare. He'll gladly, and very gently, use his mouth on you so you can cum again.

-Then for the actual aftercare, it's fairly simple. He doesn't talk much, just wanting to pass out, but he'll put your head on his chest, a hand on your back with light kisses pressed to your scalp. He allows himself to become your bed as you both drift off.

-And don't worry if you'd prefer more talking for doing so well for him, he'll be sure to properly praise you tomorrow. The entire morning after sex, he's doting upon your every whim, ensuring that he didn't hurt you at all.

Translations: mein/meine = my

Liebling = darling

Schatz = treasure/sweetheart

Liebe = love

Habe ich damit recht, liebling? Was für eine Schlampe du für mich bist. = Am I right about that, darling? What a slut you are for me.

Yall I wrote this while half asleep, I'm so sorry if there's any spelling mistakes 😭

I also had fun with this. I love König just as much as the next basic König lover who's only ever heard of him from tiktok, but I cannot take him 100% seriously, as terrifying as he is 😭 its probably bc of his voice ngl.

Anyways, Ghost is up next! Hope you enjoyed.

[carmesi-butterfly]

threesomes with zerobaseone

i wanted to do taerae too but i didn't know with who in zb1 should i pair him with :( pls tell me and i will do a post apart for him!!

legal line. word count 1.3k. warnings degrading. not proofread.

zhang hao + reader + hanbin

when hanbin told you about this thing he wanted to try in bed you accepted immediately, being in the same bed doing nasty stuff with your boyfriend and his hot best friend? an opportunity like this wouldn't happen again, and of course, you took it with no doubt.

at first, the situation was a bit strange, it turned out that zhang hao who is a nice guy (with a mix of sass too) enjoyed profusely being a mean dom, denigrating you by mentioning how desperate you seemed to be fucked by him, or if you wanted him that much you should do the work yourself, curiously he never insulted you with names as slut or whore, his words were enough to make you feel like one. with hanbin, it was completely different, this man worshipped you in every way he could to the point of venerating the ground where you stood, in bed it didn't change, always talking about how pretty, sexy, cute, and beautiful you looked while dicking you in the hardest but careful way possible.

this led to a situation where you, getting double penetration by them being your boyfriend on the back and his friend on your front, was having a confusing combination of sweet nothings with degrading words, “are two dicks enough for you?” zhang hao would ask while looking at you with a lustful gaze, “you're doing so good babe, taking both of us so well” added hanbin, his head buried in the crop of your neck with his eyes closed, being completely immersed in the act as if sinking his dick deep into your cunt could get him into a trance.

they did everything together and all the attention was directed to you, if hao was eating you hanbin would be kissing you while showering you in praises, caressing your whole body like you were some goddess he had to pray. if hanbin was fucking you, zhang hao would be lying on your side whispering nasty things to you, even saying things about his desperate friend, calling him a pussydrunk. it was the perfect balance.

jiwoong + reader + matthew

your relationship with matthew could be described as friends with benefits, even if he doesn't like that term and prefers to call it a “situationship”, the point is that you two fuck pretty regularly but he haves a few insecurities and doubts about what he can do for you to enjoy more, luckily for him! jiwoong usually helps him with all these doubts, as someone older, more experienced and incredibly hot he had more than one advice to give. but i guess that it was easier for him to do a visual demonstration, because there you are, being fucked by jiwoong while matthew admired everything with an amazed look.

“you have to do it like this, see?” said smoothly, his dick roaming into your cunt while his fingers stimulated your clitoris, your legs were positioned over his shoulders giving him more access to your insides.

“y-yes, jiwoong hyung” gasped, his eyes enchanted with the panorama in front of him, poor matthew was so worked up by just watching, his eyes didn't know where to look, there were so many options like your feet that in way of responding to all the pleasure were twitching, both yours and the other man’s body slamming together, your chest moving with every thrust and at the end, your face expressing all the emotions and sensations you were feeling throughout your whole body.

“do it yourself then” with this the tall man stopped his peace, switching places with his “apprentice” who now was penetrating your pussy and playing with that sensitive button, trying to do it as his hyung told him. jiwoong finds all this act somehow exciting, not only because of the situation of his friend recurring to him for guidance but also because having the opportunity of watching a full beauty like you being railed and having the opportunity of doing it himself was more than thrilling. now that he was lying at your side completely free he searched for a new activity to entertain himself in this show, “you should play with her chest if she likes it” advised, now twitching and pulling your nipples softly, more moans and groans were added to the already big amount of sounds that were leaving your mouth, proving jiwoong that you enjoyed it.

matthew was so invested in making you cum by doing everything his friend showed him that you ended up trying a lot of new positions (two times, because jiwoong had to do it first to do the visual demonstration of course!), finding new sensitive spots you didn't knew you had and having more orgasms than you thought was possible.

ricky + reader + gyuvin

you didn't intend this to happen, the three of you were just playing a little and being a bit handsy, it probably wasn't the best idea but it felt so nice and the ending turned out better.

getting fucked by gyuvin, your boobs bouncing with every thrust, and your legs placed on his shoulders so he could have more control over you and penetrate you better, harder, and touch all of those delicious points that made you see stars. on the other side, ricky was taking good care of you, making out until you ran out of air and manhandling your clit and nipples.

they probably wouldn't accept it if you ask them later, but there was an obvious competition between them about who would make you enjoy more, cum faster, moan louder, or even if one of them could make you squirt. if ricky kissed you, the moment he stopped to get some air gyuvin would take advantage of your lips being free to start a more heated kissing session, demonstrating he can do it better; you were sucking gyuvin’s dick? in his turn ricky is going to choke you with his, abusing your mouth until he comes into your throat; when fingering you both will try to exploit their abilities to make you cum fast, ricky knows how to touch you, and his delicate hands explore all your sensitive areas, exploiting your clitoris and making you crazy without introducing any of his fingers inside of you, it felt amazing, but let's not discredit gyuvin! he has such slender and big fingers you just desired them to be inside of you and when the moment came it was majestic, his fingers hitting that sweet point over and over again it wasn't any difficult for you to have your orgasm in a short time.

the conclusion is that this is gonna happen again and even if they have amazing and equal sexual skills, the competition is repeating itself too, it's not like you have any problem with it.

[aemondsladywife]

His Lady Wife

aemond targaryen x reader

author's note: eek this is my first angst fic and i have no idea if its good so please leave comments and feedback!! its very loosely based off othello with ofc aemond as othello and the reader as desdemona. this can be read alongside my other aemond x reader but also can be read alone!! i am working on part two for my other aemond x reader but i'm struggling w ideas so please drop me a message if you have any!! also please comment if you'd like to be added to my aemond x reader taglist <3

genre: very angsty, prepare for tears

the love between aemond and his dear wife would be in the history books one day, he was sure of it. there would be songs, poems and ballads written about the ardent love between them. a love which their great, great grandchildren would aspire to have. their love was refreshing in the court, all the other marriages were ones of duty but theirs was one of love.

that was until everything tumbled down. when you first became with child, you were estatic, you ran to tell your husband, who was over the moon. however, rumours had spread of your infidelity, that you had laid with one of the knights of the kingsguard and that you were pregnant with a bastard. at first, aemond didn't believe it, his beloved wife would never do such a thing. but he started to let his self doubt overcome his love for you.

"have you seen the knight? he's a far better swordsman and far better looking than the prince, you can't blame the princess."

aemond became overcome with jealousy and insecurity. it made sense to him, why would someone as perfect as you be with something as blemished as him.

then there was the stocking incident. one of your stockings, with your initials on it was found where the kingsguard trained which led everyone, including king aegon and prince aemond to believe you to be unfaithful.

you were walking in the gardens when you saw your husband. you had a smile on your face whilst your husband barely made eye contact with you. "what is it my love, you have been ignoring me?" you asked with concern evident in your voice.

"do not call me your love when you are carrying anothers bastard." aemond replied sharply.

"you do not believe the rumours? do you? aemond i love you, you know that? please don't do this." you took a step back and could feel your voice falter.

"i have arranged for our chambers to be separated. your maids will know where it is they will take you. the king was ready to have you killed but your family are needed." he said quickly and walked straight past you. it hurt him to see that he hurt you. he wanted to go back and apologise but his pride and insecurity got the better of him.

being isolated took a toll on you and your pregnancy. you were struggling greatly with no husband or friends in court other than your handmaid who you appreciated greatly. you saw how your mother was when she was pregnant and she wasn't anywhere near as unwell as you were. you were going to send a letter to your parents asking for their guidance but decided against it, you didn't want your father to storm down kings landing. breakfast, lunches and dinners you would spend alone in your small chambers as your husband refused to be in the same room as you, which hurt you greatly. you loved aemond so dearly, you went for spending to everyday together to months apart. most days you would spend weeping in your chambers praying to the gods for any form of relief. you preferred staying in your chambers than walking around court. you would recieve stares, looks and laughs from everyone around. it broke your heart, you had good relationships with everyone, with alicent, otto, daeron, haleana and even aegon, who would refer you to as his "good sister". now they don't even look in your direction.

it was his nephews nameday celebrations which hurt you the most. you played the role of the perfect wife, in the perfect relationship which almost had you believing that aemond was still in love with you, that was until he whispered in your ear that it was all a pretence.

but that didn't stop you from loving him. though you wished it did, maybe it would hurt less if you didn't love him anymore. at whatever opportunity to ask about his wellbeing you would, you even went as far as asking his mistress, who took pity on you and kept you updated. you still prayed for his health every night and prayed that the mother would take pity on your soul and relieve you of the pain.

although aemond was smart, he wasn't as smart as his grandfather, the hand. otto had his doubts regarding the infidelity rumours he had his child spies keep tabs all over westeros and after eight months of digging, he found the truth.

"speak up boy, tell the king what you heard"

the young boy bowed to the king before the hand's spy told the council what he heard,

"the rumours regarding the princess' infidelity were created by daemon and his old whore."

aemond looked up in shock, he felt his blood boil as he held the arm of his seat tighter.

"it was said that daemon knew the easiest way to seperate the greens was through his "fickle nephew" and that once word of the princesses disrespect reached the riverlands, they would switch alleigances to the blacks."

an uncomfortable silence hung the room. all eyes were on aemond who felt a mixture of anger, guilt and distraught. he spent the past 8 months slighting and hurting his chaste lady wife. the king knew his brother well enough to know how his mind was racing,

"i promise you brother we will take down the blacks. you will be the one to take our wretched uncle yourself i swear this to you brother."

once again silence befell the room. aemonds face was unreadable. the council sat in fear of his reaction as his mother held his hand in hopes to calm him down.

"eight months. for the past eight months my lady wife has been with child with my child and i have not spent a single day with her. the lady wife who loved me so loyally has spent eight months confined to a chamber not fit for a princess because of that pathetic cunt. no, his death would not satisfy me. i need more." the calmness in aemond's voice evoked a deep fear in the room. daemon's doing caused aemond's beloved to suffer at his own hand, they all knew that aemond would not rest until she was avenged. "as for now i need to see my lady wife."

as aemond got up from his seat, a maester and midwife covered in blood, sweat and tears entered. the only lady pregnant was his wife. his heart dropped. this couldn't be happening.

"your graces. the princess entered her labours a moon early-"

before the maester could even finish, aemond ran out of the room and straight to his wifes pathetic excuse of a chamber as fast as his legs could take him with ser criston his mother, grandfather and both his brothers close behind him. when he saw the limp body of his once beloved wife he fell to his knees.

"no, no, no. wake up my love, my love please. my love i am so sorry. please no my sweet girl come back to me, open your eyes once more, you do not need to forgive me my love, i will spend the rest of eternity at your feet please just come back to me. i was wrong my love, i'm so so sorry." he cradled her dead body, begging for her to awaken, praying to every and any god to bring his sweet girl back to him. he was overcome with guilt and anguish, the last memory he had with her ended with her heart shattering.

it was two months ago. you had a feeling that something was wrong with you or your babe but none of the maesters in court believed a word you had to say since the rumours.

"please aemond just listen to me for a second, i need to see the maesters in my fathers home, they will know what to do, they saved my mother once before." you begged aemond as you trailed after him with abnormal aches in your body.

"why? so you can run off to your father with that bastard and face no consequences? no you will stay him and have that bastard here and face punishment from the king himself." there was no mercy in aemond voice or gaze. he saw the way your face and body crumpled. his words cut deeper than any blade and you couldn't hide it. he felt a pang of guilt in his heart but he pushed it aside.

aemond felt the bile rising in his throat after remembering his last encounter with you. gods he would do anything to turn back time and fix things. he was so fixated on ignoring and avoiding you that all good memories of you were distant.

"i do not remember the sound her voice mother. i do not remember the sound of the voice that spent countless nights whispering sweet nothings to ail my troubled mind. i do not remember the delicate touch of the lady who dedicated herself to comforting me." aemond confessed with a heavy heart, staring and clutching on to his wife's cold body.

"please aemond do not do this to yourself-"

"do what mother? torture myself? torture myself as i tortured my wife? as if carrying a babe was not torture enough, i tortured her even further by abandoning her when she needed me the most. she had no one apart from her one handmaiden and tis no ones fault but my own. how could i doubt her? how could i be so foolish? the last time we spoke, she insisted that something was wrong with her or the babe and i ignored her. i killed her mother."

"yes, yes you did my lord." spoke up your handmaiden with your newborn daughter sleeping soundly in her arms.

"you can cut my tongue, kill me do whatever you like with me, my loyalties are not with you but the the princess whos blood is on your hands. she loved you so dearly, yet you turned on her with no hesitation after hearing baseless rumours. her father was ready to have his men pledge alliegance to the blacks after hearing your treatment towards his only daughter but she told her father that it was all lies spread by the blacks and that you still loved her. she prayed to the gods everyday that once the babe was born and you would see how that it is your trueborn child you would love her once more. but now she is longer with us and she died with a broken heart."

as ser criston drew his sword ready to cut the throat of the maid, the prince piped up,

"leave her be ser criston. she said no word of lie. no harm should come to the only lady who stood by my beloved's side when she was alone. i am in debt to her. you are free to leave my lady, i will ensure all provisions are made for you."

"as kind as your offer is my prince, i promised the princess that in case of her untimely death, i would remain beside her daughter until her eighteenth nameday and to hand you this letter." aemond looked up for the first time since he entered the cursed chambers as your handmaid passed the baby to his mother

"i have a daughter?" his voice trembled. you both always dreamed of having a daughter and whilst he wanted his youngest child to a girl, you wanted the eldest to be a girl. but that dream was now thwarted.

alicent choked back a sob as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms. "she's tiny aemond. she has your targaryen hair and eyes but she is her mother through and through."

he was lost for words. he couldn't fight it anymore as he began to sob as he cradled your body just the way his mother cradled his babe.

"read the letter out loud my lady. i treated my wife terribly there is nothing left to hide."

your handmaid was hesitant at first but read your last letter to your husband out loud.

"my dearest husband, dear husband,

you recieve this letter due to my untimely death but our child lives on. i do not know if this is news is joyous for you or one of regret but please do not take your hatred for me out on our child. i know our child will look like you as i have never laid with another but i am unsure to if you will ever believe me.

when you remarry and have other babes of your own, ensure that they all love one another and that their stepmother loves them the same. if you cannot ensure this, send our child to my parents, where they will be cherished.

please remember the love we once shared and share that love with our babe. i know that you may not want to to keep the portraits of us and of myself, but i beg of you to do so, even if its just one of myself. i would like for our child to know what their mother looked like. regardless of what happened between us, it hurts to say that i still love you as i did when i first fell in love with you. i hoped it wouldn't end like this but the gods work in mysterious ways.

your lady wife."

no one could hold back their tears. aemond knew the letter would hurt him, but knowing that she died thinking that he hated her, that he would remarry and that he may even celebrate her death killed him. he thought that the stranger visiting him would be less painful than what he was feeling at that moment.

"leave me be, i would like to say goodbye to my wife alone."

as he gazed upon her sleeping face, it set in to him that he would never wake up to her again. he would never hear her laughter again. he would never see her smile again. he pushed her hair back behind her ear as he used and pressed his forehead against hers. he could no longer fight the tears as his voice broke whilst speaking to you one last time,

"how could i ever hate you, my perfect girl? you have been nothing but good to me. you, who showed me what love is, you who made this pointless life worth living, how could i celebrate your depature. i love you my sweet girl. i love you so so much. and how could you think i would ever remarry, my darling? you captured my heart and now you've taken it to the grave with you. i cannot explain how sorry i am, gods i hope somewhere somehow you can hear me. i pray that the gods punish me for the way i hurt you. i allowed my anger, jealousy and doubt get the better of me. i was a fool to not trust you. you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't be like this in my arms, we should be in bed, choosing names for our babe who shouldn't have been born yet. who looks just like you by the way. she's the only reason why i'm still here. for her. for you. i will tell her the stories of her one of a kind mother, i pray to the gods she'll be just like you. i will have even more paintings comissioned of us, of you my angel, anything you desire. until next time, my dearest lady wife, i love you."

as aemond laid her cold body down back on the bed, tucked her in and kissed her one last time, he found a small box under her pillows. it was covered in blood from her labors but it was still wrapped like a gift nonetheless. he opened to find 3 matching necklaces. one fit for a man. one fit for a woman. and one fit for a baby girl. all with a sapphire in the middle.

taglist: @fultimefangirl @hc-geralt-23 @vivianeviolet @whatsonthemirror @69cocktimusprime

*tags w a line through didn't work!!

[rosieofcorona]

A Light To Break All Shadows

Just a fluffy little Halsin x Tav fic to keep the darkness at bay. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading! 💕

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Tav is eyeing Halsin suspiciously from the opposite end of Art’s bedside, where he’s been keeping watch over the sick man for days. At least, Halsin thinks it’s been days– perhaps three (or maybe four?) at the most. It is difficult to keep track in the Shadowlands.

At any rate, he cannot answer her immediately, which means his answer is insufficient.

“If you have to think about it,” Tav continues, “It’s been too long.”

She has a point.

He is exhausted, as they all are, but cannot bring himself to rest. They are so close– he is so close– to finding the child that will save them, to ending the hundred-year darkness, to restoring light and balance to the land. 

And Art Cullagh, ill as he is, is the key that will unlock their victory, so Halsin feels as though he must protect him every moment, must stay by his side in case he should wake, or take a turn. 

For days, he has persisted, spurred on by his stamina and willpower. For days, he has waited and watched. Now the idea of sleep falls on him like a spell. 

“It is my duty.” He protests. “I will see this through.” “You will,” she agrees, “When you wake. These people will need you in the days to come. And they will need you to be rested.”

She is playing to his sense of responsibility, he knows, but he is too tired to argue. Reluctantly, he nods his agreement. 

When he rises from his chair, it seems that all his centuries of existence catch up to him at once, his joints and muscles burning. He feels old and sore and weary as he drags himself toward an empty bed.

“Go on,” Tav commands gently. She feels like a mother nudging a child off to sleep. “Even the greatest leaders need rest.”

“Then you ought to rest yourself.”

She laughs at that, though Halsin means it. He knows so few who are so capable, so resilient, so kind. She has already accomplished so many things that he could not, not in hundreds of years of practice.

“You flatter me,” Tav smiles, but Halsin shakes his head. 

“You are extraordinary.” 

His gaze is on her when he says it, on her eyes and mouth and hands, the way her armor cleaves to her, the way her weapon rests against her hip. In another place, another time, another life, he would have had her already, would have known her inside and out if she asked him to. 

And she had asked him to, once, before they came here. He remembers. At the time he had denied her as gently as he could, in the knowledge that what was growing between them, if cultivated, could later prove a distraction, a weakness. 

But gods, he had wanted her then. He wants her still. 

Yet such urges, much like sleep, must be suppressed. At least for now.

Tav stares back at him with wide eyes until she feels a flush come over her cheeks. She turns her face away, just slightly, so that Halsin will not see. 

“Well.” She clears her throat, and redirects. “I’ll rest before we go scouting tomorrow. And I’ll watch Art while you sleep.” 

“As you say.” 

**********

In his dreams, he is back in the Shadowfell, that sunless, cursed place. 

At his feet are bodies, Harper and druid and shade alike. He knows their faces, their names, their stories. Here is Atlan, a boy from his own grove, no more than eighteen years of age. Halsin had cured him once of pox, had later mentored him in the healing arts. 

And here, Jehan the Harper, who had just received word that his wife was expecting. Twins, he’d announced, over a round of drinks at Last Light. 

And Moranna, the Selunite priestess who had blessed them again and again on their journey, had prayed over them and shielded them to the best of her ability. 

All lost to the shadows, corrupted beyond recognition. All dead, cut down by his hand. 

Halsin does his best to avoid stepping on them as he presses onward, each step a battle of its own. The weight of darkness seems to crush him, seems to drain the very life out of his body. 

His god is nowhere here. 

There comes a voice through the black night, distant, disembodied. Halsin, the shadows whisper, and whisper again, closer. Halsin. 

Wildly he turns and swings his glaive, hitting nothing, the panic rising in his throat, and–

“Halsin!” Tav exclaims, blocking a swing of his fist with her forearm. 

She is sitting at the edge of his bed looking concerned, frightened even. His skin is slicked with sweat, his breathing heavy, his body tangled in the bed linens. 

Immediately, a white-hot shame rushes over him, that he should be the one to cause her fear. 

That he should strike at her, even unconsciously, his savior, his ally. His friend, though that is too weak a word for the feeling that grows within him, wraps around his heart like wild ivy. 

“Forgive me,” he pants, “I was–” 

I was lost in the darkness, he means to say, I was frightened and alone, but the words stick in his throat like flies in honey.

Yet Tav seems to know already, a tenderness softening the furrows of her brow. Not pity, he notes. Understanding. 

She has seen equivalent horrors, has seen friends fall and foes flourish and still, and still, keeps fighting toward goodness, toward light. He aches with the thought that she might have such nightmares, that she might know firsthand how he feels now. 

But she soothes him, reaches out to wipe the sweat from his brow, her touch as light and cool as an evening breeze. 

“It’s alright,” she promises. “You don’t have to explain. You are safe here.”

Halsin lets out a breath he’s been holding for too long. It has been many years since he was last comforted, truly comforted. He is so accustomed to doing the comforting that he has almost forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end. 

Tenderness is no stranger to him– many of his lovers have been gentle, have been sweet– but none have ever known his burdens, none have carried them, taken them on as their own. Here is one who has, who does, who will, if he will let her. 

He takes Tav’s hand in his and guides it, flattens her palm over the rabbit-fast beat of his heart, breathing deeply, willing it to slow. He wants to say, Thank you, then, I love you, but it’s too soon, he thinks, too desperate, no matter how true. 

“Thank you,” Halsin allows, and swallows the rest. 

Tav smiles at him then, a soft, bright thing, like a single star in the night sky. The true last light in the Shadowlands. 

“Shall I stay with you?”

“Art–,” Halsin starts, but she shakes her head calmly, knowingly. “He’s sleeping soundly. Seems his bad dreams have come to visit you.”

“I do not wish to burden you with something so trivial.”

“You could not burden me,” Tav says quietly. “But I will leave, if you prefer.” 

Her thumb strokes over his chest, her hand still pressed against him. His pulse quickens again at so intimate, so innocent a touch. Halsin wonders if she can feel it.

“I prefer your presence, always. But you need your own rest.” 

“Very well.” 

Her palm slips from him as she rises to her feet, and he thinks for a moment that he’s made a mistake, has waved off her kindness, dismissed her.

Rather, she motions for him to move over and climbs slowly, wordlessly into the bed next to him. He finds himself lifting the sheets for her, inviting her in without hesitation. 

She’s changed, he realizes as she comes close, her armor cast aside for the day. Her nightclothes make her look, make her feel smaller, softer. He wants so badly to slip his hands beneath the fabric, to see how soft she is beneath. 

“Is this alright?” Tav whispers, looking earnestly into his eyes. Her fingertips flit over his cheek, brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you alright?”

The bed is small and Halsin is not, and she is pressed against him like a flower between the pages of a book. He can only nod. 

“I will rest here then, with you.”

In the gentlest act he can or will ever remember, she leans forward and kisses his eyes as if bestowing a blessing upon them, a ward against the darkness.

**********

Halsin wakes again in near-total silence, save the gentle inhale-exhale of Tav’s breathing beside him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, and for the first time in a long time, doesn’t mind. 

Instead, he is aware of how peaceful he feels in this moment, sheltered from the dangers beyond the inn, aware that at one point or another he had let go of his worry and settled deep into dreaming. The earlier tension in his muscles has melted into a tired ache, as if he is returning from a very long walk in the Grove. 

And she is here, wrapped in his arms. A light to break all shadows.

He can’t be sure when it happened. The shift had been imperceptible, like the feeling of falling asleep, or falling in love.

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Seventeen

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, depictions of violence, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral sex f receiving, some good ole p in v

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I’m baaack (for now). My plan for this part was for Feyd and reader to fight/argue more but I love them too much and I just couldn’t do it

It takes a tremendous effort not to look at Feyd. You can only imagine the expression on his face, the depth of hurt in his dark eyes. Even the image in your head is enough to plant a seed of despair, spiraling through you like crushing vines.

“What baby?” Feyd asks again. His voice has taken on a steely undertone, perceptible only to you. You’ve heard a plethora of emotions running like currents in his voice, disguised by years of training and practice, but this one guts you the most. There’s a single layer of vulnerability.

Of questioning hurt.

You inhale and force yourself to say, “Our baby.”

There’s no way to know how he will react. You’ve seen every side of him — the lover, the monster, the soldier — and you’ve examined each with a careful eye, peering into the mouth of his being and inspecting its teeth. But no amount of familiarity can prepare you for his calloused hand encircling your wrist and tugging you to face him.

“Say it again.”

Tears burn your eyes. “Our baby.” And suddenly it comes tumbling out, all of it. “I’m pregnant. I haven’t known long. I-I was going to tell you after you healed because I knew you would fret over me. You have to understand.”

Your explanation hastens as he stares back at you blankly. You would’ve preferred him to lash out at you, hit you, call you any number of insufferable names. But this…

“You didn’t tell me,” he says. He’s mastered his voice enough that it feels like the prick of a blade under your ribs, waiting to push in.

“You couldn’t afford to think about me,” you tell him, “you needed to focus on your health.”

There’s a flicker there, in his expression. “It is not solely your decision to make. The child is both of ours. You should’ve told me.”

“Feyd —”

“Enough.” Feyd releases his grip. “I’ve heard enough.

“Feyd, please —”

His jaw feathers with suppressed emotion. Feyd whirls on the heel of his boot and storms off, leaving a wake of silence. You watch his retreating form, sorrow clenching in your chest like a fist. Only once he’s disappeared around the corner and you’re sure he won’t return, do you lash around to confront Chani.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” A lazy smile unfurls on her face. “I assumed you told him already.”

“Fuck you.”

“Again?” Chani asks.

No one dares stop you as you dress for battle in your stillsuit. Chani better pray to her gods that you don’t find her alone in the battle field, you can’t promise not to take out your anger. The public argument between you two simmers as the group gathers, reviewing the attack. A familiar movement in the corner of your eye distracts you, and surprise grips you in response.

“What are you doing?” You breathe out, ashamed to admit how relieved you felt, however fleeting.

“Did you think I’d let you go out alone?”

Feyd avoids your gaze, keeps his own focused on Stilgar as the bearded man explains his plan. Your husband is so heartbreakingly beautiful. You commit his profile to memory, the essence of him — wrath and death, the god of war, but also the softer side of him that only you’ve seen. Before, on Giedi Prime, you didn’t know the pain of losing him, of seeing him bleeding out in the sands of Arrakis.

The memory flashes in your mind. The level of desperation in your voice is frankly pathetic, but you wouldn’t allow it for anyone else. “You have to forgive me, Feyd. I thought —”

“Save it.” His gaze slides, finally, to you. You might imagine the softness that forms there when he looks at you. “We’ll talk later.”

Your legs are cramping. You’ve laid on this fucking sand dune for what seems like a small eternity now, covered in a mesh blanket to disguise yourself. Feyd rests next to you. The Fremen are buried in the sand for ambush. You don’t know why you would want to help the Harkonnen, but they were insistent upon you being removed from the initial attack.

Your decision to move your leg is forgotten at the droll sound of a ship in the distance, a dark shape in the sky that grows exponentially larger. Feyd stiffens next to you.

“Rabban might be on that ship,” you say as loud as you dare.

Feyd’s mouth forms a firm line. “I hope he is.”

It strikes you that you’re quite grateful to be on the side of the Fremen as they launch their ambush, bodies upon bodies emerging from the sands like desert wraiths and immediately killing every foot soldier. You and Feyd launch from your hiding spot once the ship opens fire — Feyd to join the fighting on the ground, you aiming the blasgun given to you. You follow him with your eyes as he moves through the bloodshed like it’s a well-choreographed dance, both graceful and gruesome, his blades glinting.

Shot after shot you take out as many Harkonnens as you can, trying not to think about how you might know them. You focus, instead, on the fact that they would do anything to erase the life growing inside your womb, the promise of unity.

The Messiah.

From your vantage point the ambush looks to be waning when a figure disembarks from the ship. The last time you saw him, you’d tried to kill him.

The feeling hadn’t gone away.

Feyd kicks in the knee of a fellow Harkonnen, who drops to the ground. In a fluid movement he removes the helmet and slits their throat, then regards his brother. There’s no doubting that Rabban recognizes his brother, even in a stillsuit, recognizes the man he trained and fought with.

Every instinct in you is yelling at you to tumble down the dune to join the fight, but the rumble of a sandworm hums beneath your feet and you know that you don’t have time. Already the Fremen are retreating. Almost all of the Harkonnen soldiers have been cut down except for the spare few who stayed behind with Rabban. The ship whirs to life. You can’t tell if the brothers exchange any words before the ship lifts back into the air and Feyd is clamoring back to you, his face paler than normal beneath his protective helmet.

You know not to question him about it until later but when you return to the sietch, the ambush team rejoices in their triumph. You’re jostled back and forth and away from Feyd. “The Messiah paved our way to victory!” Stilgar exclaimes, dirt and blood smearing his face.

A roar of approval echoes him and you smile weakly at the Fremen patting you on the back and reaching out to touch your abdomen. An actual growl over your shoulder wards them off, though, Feyd appearing in your peripheral.

“Y/N!” Jessica emerges from the festivities, expression concerned. “Are you alright?” Her attention drops to your stomach.

Irritation has you grinding your molars together as you bite out, “I’m fine.”

“Where were you?” Feyd levels this question to your mother.

Jessica says, “I was doing my duty. Here.”

“You say you have the interest of the Fremen at heart but you make yourself conveniently scarce whenever the opportunity arises to prove it.”

You suppress a smirk. While healing, he missed most of your mother’s Bene Gesserit propaganda. It pleases you that he sees through her bullshit right off the bat. Even if he doesn’t completely understand it, or your participation in it, Feyd knows that Jessica is not as genuine as she says.

“Do you doubt me?” She asks him.

Feyd’s silence is response enough. A flicker of irritation crosses Jessica’s face.

“You need to speak to them,” she says to you, “tell them that you foresaw this victory. That with our help, with the support of the Messiah, they will succeed in this war. That today is just a taste.”

Feyd cuts his gaze to you. Well, he knows your participation now.

“No,” you tell her.

Jessica has the good sense to look taken aback. “No?”

“I am tired. And I wish to reunite with my husband. You speak to them.” You grab Feyd’s hand despite knowing that the contact is unwanted, dragging him away from the crowd and your mother’s palpable anger. For your sake he clings to you until you’re out of sight, then wrenches his hand away.

“I have not forgotten what you done,” he snarls.

You double check to ensure that no one is around to overhear what undoubtedly will become an argument. “I know.”

Soft to his unyielding fury.

“Tell me everything.”

Unable to look at him, you find a spot on the wall past him, regret burrowing into your heart. “I-I’ve known for roughly three months now. I didn’t know if he would survive the crash.”

“He?” A single word.

“Yes.” For the first time in his presence, you let your fingers drift to your abdomen. Feyd’s hands twitch but otherwise he’s motionless. “It’s…a boy. He’s strong. I can feel it.”

Feyd wavers slightly, the news leeching from the reservoir of his anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you, I knew you would never give yourself the time to heal if you knew.”

“It’s my duty to protect you. My privilege. And all this time, not knowing—” Feyd cuts off abruptly, a spasm of pain crossing his expression. “I thought we told each other everything. No more games.”

Your heart pangs. “I wasn’t playing a game, Feyd. I wanted to protect you. I had to watch you nearly die in front of me. I can’t lose you.” You blame the pregnancy hormones for the tears that spring to your eyes, the emotions thick in your throat. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Nothing you do can make me hate you,” Feyd murmurs after a heartbeat. He steps closer, his thumb swiping over your cheeks, your tears. He seems to be wrestling for what to say next and finally whispers, “You’re pregnant.”

“I am,” you say, laughing, nearly delirious.

A moment passes in which he stares at you in disbelief, before he loops his arms around your waist and picks you up off your feet. A smile graces your face, buried in his neck, as he whirls you in a circle and sets you back down with a rarely-heard laugh — clear and deep.

“A son,” he breathes. Realization encroaches his delight. “What does this mean? For us? For…him?”

Sorrow eclipses your own happiness, however brief. You keep it close to your heart, a memory for later, when it will be scarce. “The Fremen have been condition by the Bene Gesserit to believe our child is their Messiah.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Yes.” You cringe. “And no.”

“Explain.”

“As you know, we’ve been bred for generations to produce the Kwisatz Haderach. But according to the Fremen, to what the Bene Gesserits said, the mother must also be Bene Gesserit. And I am…not.”

“But they believe you are.”

Guilt punctures you like a blade to your lung, slipping between your ribs and expelling all of your breath. “Yes, they do. It’s all by my mother’s design. She wants the control.”

Feyd’s brow furrows. “Against my family?”

“The person in control of Arrakis is in control of the whole universe,” you say, “she wants to orchestrate everything from behind the scenes.”

To say it out loud devastates you, how you and Feyd have been only pawns in a scheme much larger than the both of you. And now your child.

Power drove your family apart.

“What do we do?” Feyd asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly.

Feyd’s attention drifts to where the sietch is still celebrating their victory. “These people have been oppressed for too long. We can’t allow it to continue.”

“We need their allegiance, though,” you tell him. “We won’t win this war without them.”

“Wouldn’t we just be falling right into the Bene Gesserits hands? Lending ourselves and our son to them? Enslaving them?”

“I want justice for them as much as you.”

The slightest of exhales from Feyd. “What’s your plan?” When you look away without a reply, he reaches out to take your hand. “We’ll figure it out. But we don’t have much time.”

“Y/N.”

You turn to face your mother, wreathed in yellow fabric. The intensity of her blue-on-blue eyes is frightening. You haven’t dared to look into any reflective surface to see if yours possesses the same hue but, judging by the tint in Feyd’s, you probably look the same.

A visible sign of the way your life has transitioned.

“We aren’t done,” you say to her flatly.

“It can wait.”

Feyd bristles. “She said we weren’t done.”

Jessica lazily assess your husband. It incites a flare of anger in you; no one has ever looked at Feyd-Rautha before with such indifference. He simply did not command it. Out of the corner of your eye you peek at him. Shutters have drawn down on his face, making him entirely unreadable. The slightest of muscles jumping under his eye tells you of the turmoil beneath the surface of his composure.

“You think you own her?” Jessica asks. “Just because you’re wed? Need I remind you that it was by my design.”

Feyd snarls, “No one owns her.”

“You belong to centuries of Bene Gesserit design,” your mother reminds you, “this is your destiny.”

“It’s the destiny that you’ve manipulated,” you snap back. “What will they do when they find out that I’m not a witch? That everything is a lie?”

“It’s not my fault that you failed to live up to your potential,” Jessica shot back.

It hits you like a slap to the face.

“I suggest that you take your leave,” Feyd says into the stunned silence. He steps forward, half shielding you with his body.

Jessica’s upper lip curls. “The failed heir to the Baroncy. A weapon, but nothing more. Except perhaps a sire. Congratulations.”

“Enticing us into an argument isn’t going to make us give in to your demands,” you say. “I refuse to take part in your indoctrination anymore.”

“Fine. Tell them it’s a lie. They’ll kill you before you can say another word.”

Feyd curses under his breath. You both know that she’s right, that the link of your son is the only thing keeping you alive. It’s a tremulous relationship between you and the Fremen, one that not even the victory today could completely reconcile. You hate that Jessica still has such a firm hold over you. Over Feyd. Your son.

At your sides, your hands tremble with suppressed rage. “This isn’t over.”

“Isn’t it?” Jessica’s lips curl into a smile.

You lay side by side later that night, mulling over the events that had unfolded. The darkness obscures your husband but his presence beside you is solid, unyielding. Safe.

“He saw me today. Rabban.”

“Do you think they’ll come for you?” You ask.

His silence stretches on for quite some time before he answers. “Perhaps. I’m not sure whether I want them to or not. Probably not.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Surely they thought that you — we — died in the crash.”

“That’s just it,” Feyd says, “Rabban undoubtedly reported our deaths and, by admitting he’s wrong, will suffer for it. I suspect that he’s fuming right now actually.”

“Hopefully long enough for us to figure out our next step,” you murmur in reply.

The cot that you both have squeezed onto rustles as Feyd turns on his side. You can just barely make out his face, the shape of his shoulder. His hand moves to your abdomen, where it hovers before finally landing. His palm is warm on your skin, alighting a fire inside of you. No matter how many times you touch your entire being reacts to him, surging up to meet him. And there, as weak as a fluttering pulse, your baby, too small for Feyd to notice rejoicing in his closeness.

“Our next step is just to take them one at a time.” His eyes glisten in the darkness. “I do not want to miss out on these moments because I am worried about a future that is not promised.”

Feyd dips down, presses a kiss to your navel. You can’t help but sigh in response, hips rising, eager to feel his lips elsewhere. He chuckles, deep and rumbling, fingers dancing over the waistband of your pants. “We have conceived a child. Some would argue that our obligation to one another is finished.”

“And what would you argue?”

He pretends to pause, to consider this. “I would tell them that I must be cold in the ground to miss an opportunity to fuck my wife.”

A laugh escapes you as he masterfully removes the barrier of cloth between you, relying on touch to guide him down your body. Hips still wriggling, Feyd quells your impatience with his tongue. He slides through your folds like he’s savoring the experience, like he might never taste you again, tracing over your entrance but denying you the admittance. You buck up in frustration.

“Patience, jewel,” he murmurs against you, “I want to relish touching my pregnant wife for the first time.”

Your cunt clenches at this. You’re forced to squeeze your eyes, as the sight of him between your legs is almost too much to bear. Your whole life you have been chasing home and now, here, you have found it in him, in his ruinous touch. You were his, marked before by the band on your finger and now the child in your womb, not a sign of ownership but belonging.

“Such a good, perfect wife,” he says as he pleases you, a mixture of his fingers and his mouth. “Taking my seed so well and giving me a son. I cannot wait to see you grow with him in your belly, my child. Our child.”

He withdraws long enough to stroke himself, clearly aroused at the thought. Your thighs press together, slicked by his mouth and your own arousal, but Feyd pushes them apart with one hand while pumping himself with the other. In a single, fluid movement, he then pushes his cock into you with decisive force. You bite down on your lip to keep from crying out as he fills you completely, stretching your walls.

Feyd draws back and thrusts into you, over and over, building in ferocity. You bury your fingers into the cot to anchor yourself. Stars burst across your vision.

He speaks through each panted breath as if he might perish if he does not say the words. “I have given my heart to you, my soul, and in return you have given yourself to me. To my son.” There’s a hitch in his voice. Feyd presses his body to yours as he drives into you, holding you close. “You have given me the ultimate gift.”

Tears splatter on your chest. You realize with a lurching heart that he is crying, overcome with his emotions. You hold on to him just as tightly — there are no words fitting for this confession. Instead you pour yourself into him, into the push and pull of your bodies. And when you come together, crashing into your release, there is no distinction between you or him; you are only one. One breathing, pulsing being, utterly entwined.

Afterwards, when you have kissed the tears off his cheeks and he’s thoroughly cleaned you, Feyd curls up beside your abdomen. Adrift in your post-orgasm bliss, you’ve nearly succumbed to sleep when he says:

“I see him.”

Drowsy, you ask, “Who?”

“Our son.” This piques your interest, leading you to squint into the dark at him. Feyd, sensing your confusion, elaborates, “I see him in my dreams. Nightmares. I didn’t understand at first but now I know that it’s him.”

“Really?” Your voice is soft.

Feyd nods. His finger trails up the curve of your belly, not quite shaped by your pregnancy. “He looks like you and I’m so…I’m so proud of him.” There’s an edge of sadness in his voice now. “Even though, in my nightmares, he —”

You wait for him to continue but he does not. Feyd shudders against you, wrought with whatever pain the poison-induced dreams leave.

Feyd finally whispers, “Do you think we can change our fate? What’s been laid out for us?”

“I like to think so,” you say with honesty. Every instinct in you is raging at whatever has unraveled your husband so, but you know that the matter must be delicate. You don’t want to press.

“But what if we can’t?”

You ghost your fingers over his head, desperate to comfort him. The words unnerve you but you don’t dare let him know that you’re frightened by the same thing.

“I will love you until the very end of it,” you breathe, “that is all I can say for sure.”

Feyd replies, full of fear and regret, “I know.”

Taglist:

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[preeningpisces]

Geto NSFW Headcanons

Im gonna try not to be biased because this is my main bitch right here 🖤

Lemme know if you want me to elaborate or write about any of these headcanons

(literally any ask about Geto will make me do somersaults—backflips, even)

18+ content below the cut, mdni, implied chubby f!reader

Pre-Incident

꩜ Geto is interesting because before he snaps and after he snaps feel like two different vibes in regards to sex

꩜ Doting, almost like a service-dom. He likes taking care of you, but he also prefers to have control. Though not so controlling that he can’t ever be submissive

꩜ Major smooth-talker, like Gojo said, he has a silver tongue. Likes a mixture of praise and degradation. The degradation is usually teasing, and doesn’t extend past the usual slut, whore, etc. range…usually

꩜ Sometimes it comes out corny tho lmfao pls roast him when it does

꩜ Good at making you feel sexy. The type that will kiss you all over, giving extra affection to areas you aren’t as fond of. It’s difficult at first, but with time you become more comfortable

꩜ Very sensual, and intimate. He has good self-control, & is very patient so he can draw things out & drive you crazy. Like he can spend all-too-long just toying with your mouth, denying you the kiss you so desperately want. Barely brushing your lips and teeth with his thumb, before pinching your tongue between fingers. Wowee

꩜ Refuses to kiss you after absorbing curses. Even though no one else can taste them, the thought of tasting like that is enough for for him to refuse; he doesn’t want you to go through it too. Also, tasting shit-vomit in your mouth doesn’t exactly get the schlong schlinging, yknow

꩜ I suspect absorbing curses gives him an immediate surge of negative emotions, so he usually needs space. Sometimes he just wants to hold you, or be held, in silence

꩜ Can be surprisingly playful in bed

꩜ Really likes fucking you from below. Smooshing your soft breasts and stomach against him, and feeling your weight on top of him. Holding you still so he can rail you while whispering sappy, dirty shit in your ear. I’m passing out someone help

꩜ I’ve been poisoned by the perv!geto fics on here, and can’t see him as not being a secret pervert. Just slightly. It takes a while for him to reveal that side to you, since he tries to appear refined and respectable

꩜ Definitely the type that likes music in the background; I see him as someone who cares about music a lot in general. You know he likes you if he’s sharing song recs

꩜ Lots of playlists, and even has a few sex playlists with different moods. Usually prefers things that are chill, but has a few harder-hitting songs—this is why he needs the playlists, lol. He doesn’t like when the vibe changes too much

꩜ One time you sneak Cbat onto his playlist & make him laugh so much he loses his boner. At that point did you really win? Hmm?

꩜ Tbh he’s got game & is aware of it. You gotta humble him occasionally or else he becomes insufferable

Post-Incident

꩜ This Geto is a lot more self-centered, aggressive, and sadistic in bed. I wouldn’t say he’s a tyrant tho

꩜ Will legit punish you when you disobey, no funishments here. Big into humiliation

꩜ My heart is telling me shibari, especially the kind that can be hidden beneath clothes. Particular about the color, and will pick ones that flatter your skin tone. Obsessed with the way the ropes pinch and dig into your soft body. He’ll bite and squeeze the parts that spill over the ropes

꩜ One punishment would be walking around secretly tied up, but the style where one of the ropes rubs against your pussy as you walk. It sounds nice at first, but that bitch is gonna chafe for sure

꩜ He’s more selfish than before, yes, but he still maintains a proclivity for doting—we all see how he spoils his daughters! It’s like, he gets his turn first, and when it’s your turn, it's your turn. Multiple orgasm king. He’ll do it until you’re sobbing tho, so pray for your pussy

꩜ Loves making you choke on his cock—gets kind of intense with the bjs. Mfer needs to chill (and buy you some throat lozenges)

꩜ Doggystyle is his favorite without a doubt, he just wants to pin your face to the bed and watch your ass bounce

꩜ A lot of the previous stuff is still applicable to some degree, but I think he has a lot less patience at this point, and is waaaay more into degradation & domination

꩜ He gets legitimately mean sometimes lmfao it’s like you gotta have 2 safewords: one for physical intensity level, and the other for bullying level 😭

꩜ Would he sleep with a non-sorcerer? Honestly, I can’t decide. If he did tho, he would be SO FUCKING MEAN I don’t even want to think about it !!!

꩜ Does he use monkey in bed unironically?? Chat pls advise

[alizayildiz]

Announcement: I don’t know who sent me a request bc it was anonymous but girl if you see this I misse posting too. But my exams are over and I’m back on posting regularly. I have to write a few requests on Wattpad and I’ll upload them on tumblr too!

This one is especially made for you!

Summary: Kenan’s thinks you can’t come to watch his important football game due to both of y’all’s schedules. However you manage to surprise him.

„Miss Yildiz, what a beautiful surprise that you showed up" Coach Montella spoke as he pulled me into a hug.

I don't know since when but it's gotten into a habit that everyone calls me by Kenan's last name. Not that I mind it, I quite enjoy it and to be honest Kenan does too.

Yildiz.

"Well, I try my best to support you guys" I speak as Coach Montella and I walk towards the VIP Lounge of the Allianz Stadium in Berlin.

After the Turkish National Team won 3:1 against Georgia they now play against Czechia. Normally they would play against Portugal but something came up with them and now it's Turkey vs. Czechia.

And normally I would be in New York City right now having a photos shoot for Victoria's Secret. A massive brand with a good name.

But I decided to reschedule the photo shoot. It costed me many nerves and phone calls to reschedule it but in the end I managed to do so.

I wanted to support Kenan through this entire European championship and that didn't work from the beginning on.

Because I missed the opening match against Georgia, he even scored a goal. So now I try my best to make up for it.

Kenan has always been my biggest supporter at everything you do in life. So it's only fair that I'm his biggest supporter too.

As Coach Montella talks me through the details of  today's match I can't get my mind of the fact that Kenan's ex girlfriend Karlotta will be here too.

I absolutely despise that girl not only for what she has done to Kenan but also for that she has done to me.

„So five minutes before the game ends security will walke up with you to the pitch, is that alright ?" Montella speaks looking at me for an answer.

„Absolutely, yes, thank you" I speak smiling at Kenan's coach before the man leaves.

As I walk around the VIP lounge I make myself comfortable, one hour until the game stars and two hours till the game ends.

My outfit was simple but yet elegant, knowing that Kenan prefers if I walk around more elegantly than slutty.

After plugging my phone into the charger I open my Spotify playlist, good thing that these VIP boxes are sound proof.

Not so sound proof when Kenan fucks me in here though...

Opening the refrigerator I pull out a redbull and wash myself some fruits like strawberries and cranberries.

After placing them nicely on a plate I walk to the couch and let myself fall on it.

Gosh, sitting feels good.

I grab my iPad from my handbag and start to work online.

~

As planned I got done with everything I had on my to do list for today.

As I stood up I looked down at the pitch, the Turkish National team singing their national anthem.

Kenan was the tallest player in the team, he was also starting in the first eleven lineup. After finishing singing they positioned them for team pictures.

In the first one Kenan had the post serious face ever, probably because he thinks I'm in New York and not here at his game.

The second picture turned out more motivated, still his smile dropped instantly as the cameras got away from his face.

The Czech people took their time with their national anthem as well as with taking pictures.

While Kenan positioned himself on the pitch the Czech players waved as fans.

Kenan made a quick prayer and so did Arda and Hakan.

All three of them praying for good luck on the match.

During their prayers the commentators of the match called up the line up from both teams. First Czechia then Turkey.

I looked at the big screen and let a a high pitched yell as I saw Kenan's name on it. The stadium loosing it too as soon as they saw him.

Kenan looked up to the VIP box where I was sitting every few minutes, before and during the match.

It's like he knows I'm here. I know that he possibly can't even see me from down there but my gut feeling tells me he does.

Kenan has this gift to spot me whenever I am, he just feels my presence.

As the referee whistled the first half of the game started. Clearly Turkey had more dominance.

In minute 25 Bariș Alper Yilmaz scored.

Two minutes later Kenan scored.

The stadium went loud fans jumped up and down yelling his name. Kenan held up both his hand and then placed on his heart. Dedicating his goal to the Turkish fans.

Clapping both of my hands together I smile down at the football field.

With that Kenan breaks Cristiano Ronaldo his record. What a great success he achieved for his career.

I pull out my phone making photos of the remarkable moment.

Then seven minutes after Kenan scored Arda scores.

3:0 it stands.

Turkish fans are going wild while Czech fans are watching their team loose.

Coach Montella jumps up exited and kisses each of the three guys on their heads, hugging each of them.

Fifteen more minutes pass and then the first half ends. 3:0 for Turkey.

~

"Miss Yildiz, it's time to head to the field" the security guard spoke as he pulled me out of my thoughts.

I sept half break arguing with Karlotta and how she should just leave me and Kenan alone because she and he are in the PAST.

But what if they aren't, and he just lies to me ?

I gather myself following the security guard.

4:0 for Turkey, Hakan scored a goal in the second half which is about to end in exactly five minutes.

As we passed trough different VIP boxes and different hallways I finally was on the pitch.

Behind the barrier but close enough.

And like always it didn't even took Kenan more than thirty seconds to spot me.

He was on the other end of the field and immediately came up running towards me.

The referee had whistled a minute ago so the match was over.

As the cameras focussed on Kenan running towards you fans and commentators applauded at the two of you.

Kenan was not wearing his jersey anymore he pulled it off himself as a form of celebration, so did the rest of the Turkish national team.

Jumping over the barrier he pulled you into his arms giving you thousands of kisses on your forehead.

"Kenan" I chuckled between laughs.

"Did you watch the whole match ?" He asks out of breath.

"Yes Baby, and I'm beyond proud of you" with that Kenan pulls you into a kiss.

I didn't care if he tastes like sweat or even smells like it I just wanted to feels his lips against mine.

The fans going crazy loud even congratulating Kenan on pulling such a beautiful girl like you.

Kenan he let go of you.

"I love you, that's the best surprise you could ever do for me" not even letting me time to respond he crashed his lips on mine again, depending the kiss.

One of his hands had a firm grip on my jaw while his other hand travelled down to my lower back.

Totally worth rescheduling my photoshoot.

Fans were busy taking photos of the two of you and so were you and Kenan.

He's the biggest golden retriever boyfriend ever so he absolutely adores posing for pictures with you.

As he gave you a kiss on your forehead you closed your eyes enjoying the moment.

What a luck that your camera went off in that exact minute. The most wholesome picture ever of the two of you just got made by your phone.

A jealous Karlotta standing in the crowd, eyeing the two of you.