#if I had my way this would be mostly deep red and white | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tremendum · 6 days

Text

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Me and the Devil; i

(not my gif) .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·: Paul Atreides x fem!reader prelude next

word count: 5.3k

summary: Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common. Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

warnings: blood/violence, family deaath, v brief allusions to smut/dubcon, reader is traumatized. pls lmk if i missed anything. not edited.

notes: thanks for all the love so far!!! here's the first chapter of the story - if you want to stay updated, i post on AO3 first :) just a quick first chapter to lay the scene before we jump into the engaging parts of the story. feedback is very motivating and highly valued, thank u all <33

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Penitent Crimes of Retaliation

In accordance with the legal doctrine of the 'Reprisal Accord', as sanctioned by the High Court of the Landsraad, houses are granted the right to retaliate against proven offenses committed upon them. This action shall such be labelled as "Penitent Crimes of Retaliation". Under this mandate, should sufficient evidence be presented, the aggrieved house may initiate a retaliatory strike and engage in warfare against the offending party. While reparations for damages incurred during the conflict are mandated, perpetrators shall be exempt from criminal sentences, ensuring a balanced recourse within the framework of inter-house disputes."

- From the Reprisal Accord, Office of the Padishah Emperor. Imperium, 10041.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

There was once a time when green was your favorite color.

You'd enjoyed a childhood of it; Peridot, Jades, the velvet green of winter dresses, the tall, mighty green the sacred Pine. The woven banner of your house, waving in the snow-whipped wind; A snarling green wolf upon the grey armor your parents wore to train you.

When the men of one other Houses Major arrived to retrieve your older sister, she'd been shroud in that very same pine-colored satin, an elegant dress, as she waved good-bye to you for the last time. When the ice would melt off the lower glaciers for those three months every year, the lakes would thaw to a deep emerald green, and your brother, sisters and you would play in it; servants and soldiers alike yelling and pulling you out, shivering to your bones.

Even at your sister's funeral. The green of the casket, laid to rest in the ground of a foreign planet by a man who'd never truly loved her. The women of your House, wearing a veil of mourning in that sacred pine satin as you said good-bye to her. Killed by the birth of her first; a son. Your parents had been proud - You became the oldest of your siblings that day.

You can barely stand to look at green anymore. No, instead, you mostly see black.

Black, white, and red.

They'd sent you away to make for your house a Fortune; a son, they'd wished, for your sake - and, by whispers of your Lady Mother, a daughter - but this place... it crawls with shadows and monsters and deadly smiles; most in the form of your betrothed.

Your na-Baron.

If Feyd-Rautha ever had a semblance of hesitancy, it was when you first met four years ago. You were at the end of your seventeenth year; he, freshly eighteen. He had been as cordial as you'd ever seen him, escorting you with an arm held out, eyes malicious but mouth less than offensive. He'd even called you Lady Bourbon those first few months on Giedi Prime. And, in fact, you can consider yourself lucky; perhaps for your bloodline, or for you yourself, Feyd-Rautha took special care of you. Maybe he did care for you -in the ways that he could.

After that, he taught you all you needed to know about the rest of the world. In these final days together, he has admitted furiously that he waited too long to claim you as his wife - four years was much too long for you to wait, even if your purity was claimed by him long before then.

The accusations had come from his uncle, the Baron; House Bourbon was stealing their precious refinery codes, committing treason against the trading accords along their exportation route. Perhaps, he thought, you were the one to plot it against your beloved future family.

But Feyd-Rautha knew better - knew that you'd never dare betray him. He was the one to demand a public execution of your family - but also the one to redirect your sentencing to a mere prisoner. As if you weren't one already.

Don't look away. See what we do to scum, my pet?

After all the sparring, each time you drew that precious blood from him, and you still haven't been able to kill him. If you'd had a blade, you would have, right there in the stands.

You were, in some ways, relieved when their bodies had hit the sand fast; You'd never seen your brother's skin so reflective as you did this morning. The black sun couldn't hide the blood that had seeped from him, nor from your mother's throat. You'd swallowed thickly, wishing you could look away, gasp - cry; but you had to hide your pain. Your na-Baron would've loved it too much.

Why don't you leave me with them, then? You'd hissed through your teeth.

Though he was wild and psychotic, growling with hunger at the bloodsport in front of him, he heard you for what you'd said. Feyd's fingers pulled your hair hard; forcing your chin to stare up at him. A sickly glint in the black sun, his teeth shone with hunger.

You'd have me throw you to your Wolves, and lose my prize? He'd tutted, kissing your forehead with a sickening sweetness; enough so that the servants had turned away their spider-black gazes. They didn't care much for the acts of affection you'd occasionally show one another - in a world marred by ugliness, any glimpse of beauty becomes a hauntingly grotesque show of power.

He'd snarled, slapping your cheek hard enough for you to groan. His breath hit your face, you're mine to keep - there's plenty of life left for you to serve.

He'd held your eyes open as they'd slit your father's throat; then both of your sisters, and your brother's. Your mother had fought as much as she could in her drugged state - the Harkonnens are rutheless, and Feyd-Rautha had sat calmly behind you, your head in his hands, caressing your shaking cheek - but the neckline of her gown was too high, and too thickly inlaid with encrusted heirlooms.

Bless their voided souls.

The emeralds that tore from her gown as she'd spilled her blood to the sand sent a ripple of pain out of your throat. Feyd had buried his face in your neck, teeth sharp as he sucked a mark just behind your ear, watching as you clenched your palms so hard, your own ruby blood beaded out, blackened in the sun's light.

If anybody would have bothered to look before burning the bodies, you know they'd find all the family diamonds sewn into the fabric of their clothing - centuries of your House, melted away.

Feyd-Rautha had drank up your agony with his lips, smiling as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Now, alone and away from the thick industrial air, your chambers are cold and suffocating.

There are screams coming from the hall - not the kind that you've grown to associate with your na-Baron testing his new blades, but the kind that comes with danger. With change.

As it turns out, you are not Feyd-Rautha's to keep any longer.

A loud noise outside of your quarters jolts you from your bed, whispering to yourself. They're coming for you. Pulling the sheets closer to your body, your hand finds the blade gifted to you on your nameday three years ago by your husband-to-be, still tainted with the ghost of your own blood.

Your whispers reverberate in the empty room. "I must not fear. fear is the mind-killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me."

Your voice shakes. Few things remain from your early days of training, before you were sent off to become a Harkonnen; This is one is a relic.

There is a loud noise just outside; blades.

For a moment, you imagine there is a hand on your arm. It is strong, ghost-white, and possessive. His voice rumbles in your head. Don't look so sad, my pet. I will never let them keep what is mine. I will find you again.

You almost wish he will.

When you look down to the weight on your arm, you do not find the hand of your once-betrothed, but the remainder of his ownership, a handprint of a bruise that will not fade even as the soldiers in Atreides armor deliver you to the next planet.

You rise from your bed, preparing your sore body for a fight that will surely end before it even starts. You don't stop your old prayer, in fact, you hardly notice that you're saying it at all. Even as the doors give in.

"-and when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing - only I will remain-" There are soldiers that burst through.

The way one of them fights strikes a faint memory from a lost childhood, and it fills you with rage.

Why did you wait so long to rescue me?

You lunge, snarling like the wild beast you've become in your captivity. You will fight, because that is the only thing you know how to do. It is the only thing you have left.

Your blade falls within minutes.

You're taken by the man from your past not a minute after.

You're on a ship, watching the black Opiuchi B disappear, in an hour.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

"My Lady."

You don't realize the worker addresses you until you snap out of it, flushing behind your veil as you step out of the aircraft.

The dress you wear, salvaged from your family's old castle, is dusty.

It clings to your skin, drowns you, as the rain falls. A staff of House Atreides holds an umbrella above you, shielding your elaborate dress from the water as you walk up towards where the members of the House await you. You stare down at the dress - green velvet. A texture you have not felt in years; your skin looks different not wrapped completely in black.

Your eyes strain to take in the grand entrance to the castle from the hangar which Duncan Idaho had escorted you, ignoring him as he turns to glance back at you momentarily. You can't bear the look of unfamiliarity that flickers over him when he looks at you, now.

He looks the same - maybe less tall, but that has more to do with it having been six years since you last saw the man. You, however, are not the same girl you were when he knew you on Sabberon. Fear, panic, and wrath rage within you while your gaze smolders daggers at the back of his head.

He walks just slightly in front of you and despite yourself, you slide just a bit closer - the only semblance of comfort you can allow yourself to feel as you take in the largess of the castle. The air is thicker here than you've ever felt; salty, windy, like you can taste the sea in the rain... it clings to your skin, but it feels clean. You'd been changing into your robes when you entered atmo - you've heard many things about the ocean, about Caladan.

Something within you yearns to witness it yourself. Subtly, you crane your neck outwards to catch a glimpse; nothing in the near distance but the walls of the castle and high cliffs.

You nearly trip as Duncan Idaho stops just a few paces from where the members stand at attention to greet you and your retinue.

Duke Leto Atreides, regal and composed, stands at the center of the room, his presence commanding your attention. Beside him, a woman wearing a deep cerulean gown - Lady Jessica. Easily, from behind your own veil, her gaze penetrates you; A cool sensation down your spine as you seem to feel her words in the back of your head as she watches the Reverend Mother who'd travelled with you per High Court orders.

Hello, sister.

You purse your lips, looking on - there, next to his mother; Standing tall with an aura of quiet intensity, his eyes on you, is Paul Atreides.

The son to whom you're now destined.

Even from your obstructed vision, you can see that he's handsome - lithe, hair curled and combed back to show his eyes. They are wide, penetrating like his mother's, but Maker, they are so green.

There is no hunger in his eyes, nor hatred, nor anything but a mild curiosity; it strikes a chord of fear in your gut, wishing briefly to return to the na-Baron's sight. It was easy to go unseen with the Harkonnens; They always made their intentions clear, and the na-Baron never wanted many to see you besides himself. You always knew what he wanted, and you could give it to him enough to control him.

But Paul. His stare betrays no emotion but duty. If not for the boyish pout of his pink lips and his freshly-shaven jaw, you could have mistaken him for his father. A Duke.

Your name, boomed from the voice of Leto Atreides, pulls you back to the surface of Caladan. "Welcome." Duke Leto's voice resonates through the hall with authority as he addresses you, his tone measured yet warm. Your stomach twists and turns as the man nods courteously to you. Coaxing your body to move, you bow to him.

"We are honored by your presence." His voice is surprisingly humane, exceedingly polite towards you; someone who was just come from the protection (a laughable phrase) of their sworn enemy.

Your throat tightens at this. There is no honor to your presence, not anymore.

Though you feel the prickling behind your eyes, you force your head to tilt in acknowledgment, schooling your expression to respectful - perhaps they can't quite make out your face, but Lady Jessica watches closely. She sees.

You take a sharp breath, swallowing away the lump of emotion in your throat.

"Thank you, Duke Leto, my lord." Your voice carries steel beneath its polite, quiet veneer, though you try to calm your heart. You turn to Lady Jessica to greet her.

"My Lady, it is a pleasure." You say, equally even. Lady Jessica offers a tight smile, something akin to understanding swimming among her irises. It's been quite some time since you were permitted to talk to a woman; Your servants on Giedi Prime were, of course, tongue-less, as na-Baron wished. "Thank you for welcoming me to your home."

"We understand that these are trying times for you." She says softly, her words a gesture of solidarity as your legs stagger. You feel dizzy and tired, but you force yourself to nod, bowing again. Your chained headdress overlaying your veil chimes slightly with the movement, swaying with the rain.

For such an acclaimed House, you're surprised by the gentleness of their welcome. Perhaps, they'd thought that the groaning and echoing hallways of Giedi Prime might break you, that they'd be taking in some injured little dove, wings clipped by the ferocious boy who'd gifted her with a knife plunged between her ribs on her nameday.

The scar that lies just below your breast on your right side serves not as a reminder, but as fuel. It did not quell your spark. It ignited it, with a bloodthirsty rage for revenge.

Months of being thrown into a pit under the glaring black sun; Not the arena that assassinated your family, no - this pit was smaller, with one large seat for the na-Baron himself, and drugged concubines and servants with blades to service his na-Baroness. A place to watch his pets play.

Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common.

Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

Lady Jessica is correct, these are trying times for you. You swallow as you straighten your back. Despite everything, there's a minor comfort in the Atreides' insistence of providing you with the necessities for you to perform your traditional customary mourning traditions. Your family may be gone, but you can still have this part of them; as a way of saying good-bye. It's what they would have wanted.

You turn to the young man who stands next to Lady Jessica.

The Harkonnens had tried to show you the dangers of house Atreides; The poison of appearance, of trust. You are not foolish enough to have believed the Baron Vladimir and his webs of deception, but you are sharp enough to know that in times like these, nobody can be trusted.

Your betrothed watches you, as if trying to see through your mourning veil. The green of his eyes sends a warmth through your stomach as you avert your eyes. "My Lord," you bow to him, your heart thumping in your chest, remembering how you might be rewarded for looking your formerly betrothed in the eyes during ceremony. Trying not to flinch, you wait to see what Paul's hands may do. But they do not strike you, nor grasp your jaw sharply. He barely moves.

"My Lady." His voice is softer than you expected, and it strikes your heart with a cool unease. Distrust slithers around you like a daunting snake. He bows back to you.

It's silent for a thick moment before Duncan Idaho - the man from a distant past - speaks from beside you. "We have much to discuss."

Cutting to the chase, as always. Your eyes fall to the Duke, who nods. "Do you need to see treatment?" He asks the Swordsman, eyes assessing the soldier.

Duncan laughs at this, gesturing to his arm, where beads of blood still slowly peeks through his the tunic he'd slipped on after changing out of his armor.

"Harkonnen blades are sharp. So are Lady Bourbon's nails."

The prickling of four pairs of eyes strike you as he continues, turning this time to address you full-on. "Your fighting is much different than I remember, Little Bourbon."

What he doesn't say is clear to you: Much more savage than he remembers. Something between shame and pride licks at your cheeks and you avert your eyes; It had been a force of habit - rabid hounds don't tuck tail when cornered, do they?

You clench your hand, your nails digging into your palms; you learned early on that sharper claws could keep Feyd tame for longer.

The force of Duncan's old nickname for you, when you'd been young - it nearly knocks the air out of your chest. It's been over half a decade since you'd seen the man; too much has happened since then. Nonetheless, you smile toothless behind the veil, trying not to think of the life you'd just left behind. Of what cold life lies ahead.

When you respond, your voice is frigid.

"Sometimes adaptation is survival, Duncan Idaho. Threats demand evolution."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

The rain is gone by the next day.

In the morning room, forks scrape over blue-plated China. There must be a clock somewhere near, as the seconds pass in quiet, insistent ticks. A cleared throat, a swallow of water.

Your eyes burn from exhaustion.

Your arrival last night held no such time for small talk - you were whisked away by the service staff to make sure your quarters were comfortable; Your old clothing and that of your sisters and mother - the few things the Atreides soldiers had salvaged from the ransacked Castle at Sabberon - had been washed thrice of rubble and smoke and were hanging, waiting for you, in the wardrobes.

Barely awake, late in the evening, you'd attended a meeting in a small conference hall. There, sat across from Lord Paul, Masters of War and Swords and Strategy, a Mentat, and the Lady Jessica, the Duke had asked you questions, ensuring you were not harmed - more importantly, trying to ensure there was no malicious intent to your presence. Your eyes could not ignore the Lady Jessica, who stood behind the Duke, her fingers twitching to the others when you responded to a question asked of you. They had some kind of language, you'd realized, as they responded in their own subtle hand gestures.

You'd only been there for ten minutes before you were escorted by a handmaid back to your chambers, where you sat without rest through the night.

Truthfully, you're breaking fast with Lady Jessica and Lord Paul out of courtesy; You were up far before the sun had found the horizon this morning, staring emotionless at the ghost who stood in the corner of your new chambers.

You'd sat watching, cradling your chest with wide eyes, as the ghost slid onto his knees. How he'd crawled, smirking at the foot of your mattress, whispering to you with sharp teeth and beckoning fingers. The sweet promise in his eyes laid with blood and pain, coaxing you forward despite yourself - until something in the corner of your vision moved, and you'd screamed.

That had woken one of the servants.

She came in with her head tilted down, holding a pitcher of water, and you'd asked her to stay.

Her name is Hestia; she must barely be twenty. You insisted on sharing a pot of tea with her, sitting in the silence but sipping shortly on your teacups. You didn't talk much, but instead breathed and felt the safety and of a woman's company, even if she is a few years younger than you.

It wasn't until she'd brought you breakfast a few minutes later that you realized the staff must have been informed of your courting customs before your arrival - she said nothing as you ate silently, staring out towards the coast of rocky cliffs and rolling moors you could just barely make out from your chamber windows.

And now you sit similarly - in the morning dining room, your hands perched in your lap, unsure what to do with yourself.

Your future husband, no older than yourself, sits across the table from you now, pushing his omelet around on his fork. The table shakes just slightly, jilting your glass full of water - he must have a restless knee. He chews at his lip, avoiding your stare, sharing slight conversation with his Lady mother. Her attempts to bring you into the conversation are met with polite answers and more silence, your voice shaky and cold.

After a while, a woman enters, whispers something to the Lady at the end of the table. Nodding, Lady Jessica takes her leave with a pointed look at Paul, suggesting he might escort you around the castle to settle you in.

Though your stomach coils, you nod, "-if you have time, my Lord, I'd appreciate it."

His eyes find yours from behind the veil and you clear your throat. He's quiet but chivalrous; A nod, a glance sent back to his mother as she leaves. A short gust of air through the room and suddenly you can smell him. His hair, clean and glossy - healthy - glints as he faces a window, exposing the early morning sun to his bright eyes.

It's silent for a few moments as only the two of you remain; Your food untouched and his half-eaten.

"Are you one of them?"

Them?

You stare at him from behind the thin pine veil that covers you. It occurs to you that Paul may assume you are just as bald and sick as each Harkonnen; years of adapting, surviving off of instinct and placation, are over. With a jolt, you realize you are not a Harkonnen. And you will not be wed to one.

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of chains upon the crown of your head today, ignoring the melancholy feeling in your gut.

"I have hair." You state simply, looking down at the skin of your arm; The skin that boasts arm hair, none of the sickly pale skin that knew of no clean air nor healthy sunlight - your skin, glowing with real melanin like the House of Bourbon.

You'd never spoken this freely on Giedi Prime besides in the sole company of Feyd-Rautha - stars, you'd never have spoken this freely at home on Sabberon, either - but there is no home anymore. And if you've learned one thing in your years since coming of age, its that the Great and Noble Houses of the Landsraad are crawling with perjurers, fabricators.

Paul is likely the same.

If the Atreides boy must be wed to you, you cannot help that, just as you couldn't help with Feyd-Rautha. They can dress you, insist in your traditional customs - but you will not go down easy. No matter how cold the home, you can be colder. You are more than the bones which hold you up; Meaner than the demons that kept you in their ghostly-grip for four years.

His cheeks flush a peculiar pink, bottom lip captured between pearly teeth. "No," he starts again, eyes searching - trying to find you, beneath the layers of green that wrap around you. "Not Harkonnen-" he quiets after he says the name, as if worried to offend you. "I meant-" his eyes swim, "Bene Gesserit."

Your stomach chills as you meet his eyes.

After some hesitation, you shake your head. "No, my Lord."

When he blinks at your words, you feel compelled to continue. "I suppose I was..." you move your hand to pull on the sleeve of your robes.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

"or, I was supposed to be." your unemotional tone rings through the room. Paul doesn't say anything to that, biting back the suspicion that climbs up his throat.

He stands when you rise from your seat; Your mourning dress, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, flows like the leaves of a weeping willow as you push your chair in behind you. When he offers a stiff arm to escort you out of the room, you hesitate before looping yourself loosely to him.

She is telling the truth.

His mother had indicated, with flicks of her hand, during the meeting the evening before; you, sat before the Atreides' council, unaware that his mother was reading your honesty.

But that could be a trick; you've admitted to being partially trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, perhaps you found a way to deceive his mother. As much as he trusts Duncan and his father, he can't shake the suspicion that you're a mere pawn in the Harkonnens' game.

But his father's words burn sharply into his mind.

Duty often requires us to navigate paths we may not have chosen for ourselves, Paul. You may not always like her, but you will treat her with the respect and care befitting of a future spouse. Love may come in other ways - but you will marry her, and together you will sire an heir when the time comes.

By decree, it was ordered you be wed to Paul, but he can't find it within himself to lose the feeling of distrust. He has spent hours learning about the Harkonnens - how they think, their strategy; and yet, from Duncan's account, the Baron and his nephew just let you go. It makes no sense to him.

"I was supposed to be a lot of things."

Your voice is undeniably beautiful; strong, much more resolute than he'd expected. But you are extremely cold, and evidently unwilling. Polite, yes - it seems you've been trained just as he and every other young noble of the Great Houses have - but you are calculating, aggressive.

He saw the claw marks you'd left upon Duncan; a man you've known since you were a young girl.

You walk with your chest out, back straight like a soldier; your words are cordial yet laced with steel and indifference - it only serves to deepen his unease. He guides you through the castle, murmuring quietly as he shows you along, introducing you to various members of staff who stop and bow in recognition.

You don't say much until he escorts you to a path that winds down out of your sights; Below the castle, between jagged rocks, Paul finds himself concerned to no longer be surrounded by castle walls. Beside him, you take a deep breath, your footsteps faltering as you slow to stare at moss that sprawls across the cobblestone.

Curiously, Paul slows to a stop beside you.

For a moment, you stare down at the dirt and fallen tree limbs, the grassy fields and rocks. Soon, as though an invisible string pulls you upwards, you snap your head, voice sheepish behind your veil. "Apologies, my Lord." You start to turn away. "I've read of plants like this, but never seen them before in person."

Paul is suddenly struck by the realization that you may not have seen much of any flora nor fauna on Caladan. He knows what Giedi Prime is like; and your homeworld, from what he'd read last night before bed, was mostly full of Glaciers, forests, and high altitudes. Perhaps you are interested in such things; the idea surprises him.

So instead of moving along, he finds himself bending to pull off a bit of the moss from a fallen trunk. The earthy dirt spreads between his nimble fingers, the green bright against his skin. You watch him silently.

"It absorbs up to twenty times its dry weight in water." He says it quietly, repeating what he'd learned in an ecological lesson, pushing on the spongy material with his thumb. "Banks of it grow just around the brackish tidepools outside the castle."

Your interest, piqued, causes your head to crane slightly from your short height - he can tell, even without seeing any part of your face, that you are fascinated. "Am I allowed to see?" You ask stiffly, your arms by your sides.

An initial wave of protectiveness over his home washes over him; remembering his father's words, he forces his shoulders to relax. He lets the moss fall back to the stump, brows furrowing.

"You are to be Lady Atreides, one day." He tries to school his voice evenly, avoiding any hint of resistance to this fact. "You do not have to ask permission to see your own land."

The wind from the sea whips around you; his stray curls fly in his vision. There are no words from you for several very long breaths, in which you clear your throat.

"I do not feel well, my Lord." You say moments later, voice cordial but thick with the desire to be alone, "I believe I am sick from travel. Please, if you would excuse me."

He is unsure if he had made you uncomfortable or if you are truly feeling sick; nonetheless, Paul escorts you to your chambers silently, calling one of the handmaids - Hestia, her name is - to check on you. He insists she bring you some bread and cheese, to draw you a bath if you please.

His jaw clenches; he's to train with his mother soon, but he needs release. His muscles clench in repressed frustration and so Paul lets his feet carry him swiftly to the training quarters.

His fingers itch for a blade; his mind itches to forget about the last day, about the cold life that lies ahead of him.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #paul atreides i need you so bad #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #me and the devil; series #feyd x you #feyd smut #dune fanfiction #dune smut

250 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐏’𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍 — a yang jungwon fanfic

𖦹 ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: from the sweet boy you met at your cafe job to an obsessive psycho, yandere!yang jungwon goes to extreme measures to ensure that you’re his.

➳ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of food, abduction and yandere themes, swearing, violence, crying, angst, hickeys, non-con kissing and touching, nudity ~

𖦹 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.4k | read pt. 2 , 3 , and 4 here

"I brought you some treats! I hope you’re hungry!" Jungwon placed the woven basket of freshly made delights before you on the center of the picnic mat, his cheerful voice snatching your focus from the daunting thoughts clouding your mind.

"Thank you, Won-ah," you smiled, feigning a sense of gratitude towards his unusual gesture.

"So," he began, revealing the goodie’s hidden beneath the white cloth of the basket. "What do you think of my garden?"

"Well, it’s a change that I’ll have to learn to get used to," you admitted, too timid to meet his curious feline eyes. "My life in the city followed a work-sleep-repeat schedule," you went on. "Where I’m from, no one really cared to spend their free time outdoors. Your garden, though... it’s rather strange at best, especially considering that you’ve maintained it all by yourself."

Jungwon simply nodded in response as he arranged a few sandwiches and a bowl of sweet cream and sugar-soaked strawberries for the two of you on a sharing platter, savoring one of the bright red berries in his mouth.

"Jungwon?"

He swallowed and said, "Yes, my love?"

"Are you going to keep me here forever?"

Chirping birds in the distance temporarily filled the silence.

"Hmm… When you’re deeply in love with someone, you often like to think that time is an irrelevant variable. I would say that forever is quite a strong word, yet, a perfect one to describe my infinite love for you." His eyes lit up at the mere thought of infinity and beyond with you, the love of his life.

You nodded in response, taking a corner of one of the sandwiches Jungwon had prepared into your mouth, sinking your teeth into the soft white bread.

"I’m not much of a cook, but I tried to recreate the little sandwiches you used to make me at the cafe to the best of my ability. I remember when you recommended that I try them because they were your favorite lunch item on the menu." He smiled to himself at the memory before searching your features for any clue as to what was going on in your head.

"It’s not identical, but I almost prefer your version of the treat," you admitted, trying to mask the awkwardness between you two. "It’s sweeter. Softer. Unlike the stale bread and recycled fruit I’d make them with at the cafe,"

Jungwon chuckled in response, and your lips couldn’t help but tug upward at each corner. Deep down, you wanted to believe that somewhere in Jungwon’s twisted brain, he was the same shy and innocent boy you previously met at your cafe job on a slow Tuesday morning.

The boy you wanted to learn more about at your own pace and on your own terms.

The boy you used to dream would somehow save you from the mundane patterns of your exhausting city life.

Though, in an odd way, you got what you asked for.

"Jungwon?"

"Yes," he answered, yet asked, slightly curious about your reasons for wanting to question him again.

"Are you anything like the ‘you’ I met before all this?"

It had only been three days since Jungwon had abducted you, hiding you away in his garden of arcane wonders. Before today, you and him had hardly made any conversation since you arrived here, as he didn’t see any need for chatting given the fact that you two had already gotten to know each other personally. Just yesterday, he offered to give you a tour of one of the smaller greenhouses he owned, saying that you would have to wait a while before he showed you the rest of his field. Presently, this is your first time leaving your "room" since day one, mostly for Jungwon’s selfish desires of wanting to have a little picnic date with you. Perhaps this was all a ploy to manipulate your trust. Nonetheless, you wanted to use this time with Jungwon as an opportunity to ask him to clarify his deeper intentions. The only things Jungwon had made verbally clear to you were a set of rules for you to follow and that you were his and his only.

He cleared his throat before saying, "Yes. I am the same Jungwon that you met at the cafe as I am now and always will be. The only thing that’s changed are my feelings for you. They’ve grown since I brought you here with me. Since I’ve shared this part of my life with you." A forlorn expression waved over his features for a moment. He looked into your weak eyes as if speaking to your soul.

"I love you."

You felt obligated to say a set of three words back to him, but they were caught in your throat. You swallowed your own resistance and blurted out a shaky, "I love you, too, Jungwon," hoping that you sounded as sincere as you wanted him to believe you were. It’s not that you were incapable of ever loving Jungwon. At one point, you felt like you almost did. Unfortunately, all of those "what ifs" went out the window after the garden. Even after considering Jungwon’s plea for innocence, you felt in your gut that you still couldn’t trust him. Rightfully so, given that he had already betrayed your trust on such a level. Your false confession of love rang true to Jungwon’s ears, and the forlorn look on his face faltered, being replaced with his familiar smile. It startled you to see how the smile of his that used to comfort you had already become one of fright.

"Come here," he said, motioning for you to sit on his lap in a lotus position. He braced the small of your back with his larger hand, the other hand alternating between exploring either your thigh, cheek, or loose baby hairs. You could hardly keep eye contact with him, missing the close proximity you two had once enjoyed on the checkered picnic mat.

"I think it’s only fair that I ask you a question of my own, seeing that you’ve interrogated me twice thus far."

In that moment, Jungwon somehow made you feel guilty for not trusting him. It's been a few days, and you’ve been alright as rain under his sheltering. He certainly had been as sweet as the boy you first met, but you still couldn’t let his words disregard the facts. Jungwon had kidnapped you and never intended on letting you go. He lured you in like a fish in water, and you took the bait. Trying to avoid asking him what he wanted to know, as that would be yet another question on your behalf, you confessed, saying: "Whatever the question may be, I promise to answer you truthfully this time. I’m sorry for lying to you about certain things in the past."

You looked so submissive in Jungwon’s eyes while situated in his lap with your legs wrapped around him, his greedy hands left to explore your soft skin and every curve of your anxious body. You regained some ability to maintain eye contact with him while you awaited his question, your docile doe eyes opening a gate to Jungwon’s wildest fantasies of you, as your two hearts were the only beats present in this lonely field. You noticed Jungwon’s previously innocent aura falter into a darker, more lustful one upon feeling the sensation of his length growing harder beneath you. Your eyes fell to his lap and widened at the sight of his bulge.

"Jungwo-" he stopped you mid-sentence by taking your chin in his free hand, forcing you to meet his eyes. He remembered your previous confession of dishonesty regarding your past interactions with him, inspiring a catalog of questions he wanted to ask you before settling on the one most important to him.

"____," he sighed, feeling his body tingle all over at the mere contact with your now goosebump-bathed skin. This state had you both scared for different reasons. For him, it was the closeness of the moment—an obedient you cradled in his embrace like he’d always dreamed of. For you, it was also the closeness, coupled with the sight of an obsessed and hungry Jungwon biting back every will in his body to ravish you on the spot. The dainty meal he had prepared was long forgotten, likely to be left to insects and other wild life to feast upon in the meantime. He smoothed the tiny bumps on your nervous arm with a hard hand, hoping to ease your apparent nerves that only grew with the delay of his question.

"Were you lying to me when you said you weren’t a virgin?"

The question caused a pit to form in your stomach. It was written all over your face. However, as in most cases, Jungwon was more concerned with your answer than how his question made you feel. The fact that he was already hard just made the situation even more painful. He seemed to be patient for your response, but you didn’t want to push your luck and forced yourself to answer, but only with a soft mumble.

"Yes, I- I'm a virgin," you regretfully admitted, looking away from his face again, feeling some sort of strange shame. Silence filled the air as you awaited a sentence from Jungwon that never came. Only his pouty lips linked with yours, not exactly according to the way you previously would’ve preferred your first kiss with him to be, and certainly not under such circumstances. You instinctively pulled away in disgust, but luckily, with him being caught up in his own delusions, he saw your resistance to his kiss as a break for air. Suddenly, the dreamy boy you met in the cafe lost all of his charm, looking no different from a casual pervert.

"You’re mine. From the moment I saw you, I fucking knew your soul belonged to me. It’s hard to believe a beautiful girl like you is so intimately pure." He laved at his own lips, trying to steady his breathing.

"Were you waiting for me? Love?"

You struggled in his grip, senselessly trying to get away from him, knowing that you wouldn’t get very far.

"What is it, _____? I thought you loved me," his voice cracked, almost in a confused cry.

"Eugh!" you squirmed as he held you tighter.

"You can’t force me to love you back!"

That comment stung like a needle in his heart.

"Force you? So you lied to me. Again?"

"I can learn to love you, Jungwon! Just not like this!" You pleaded with him, your eyes beginning to well with tears. Though his despair soon returned to its original lustful desires. He pushed you off of his lap and pinned you by your hands to the picnic mat, your arms framing your head so gracefully.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this—to be so close to you that we’re breathing each other’s air," he confessed in between a trail of wet kisses, his sugary pink saliva glistening on your neck and collarbone under the sunlight peeking through the trees. He hungrily nibbled on your exposed skin, causing a moan to erupt from your throat unintentionally. The vibrations from your throat tantalized his lips, forcing a low grunt from him as he smirked against your flesh, the once-uncomfortable nips turning into painful pinches. His hand focused on kneading your hip before gripping your waist, the other curiously hovering over one of your breasts before taking hold of it like his life depended on it.

"Please, Jungwon-ah," you whimpered, your tears still too shy to fully come out, or perhaps it was the newfound anger and hate you’d developed for him that hindered your tears from flowing. He stopped his ministrations to your neck and chest momentarily, his elbows caging you beneath him. He stared at you with an uncanny fondness, thinking to himself how much he’d like to force those bashful tears out of your eyes with his greedy dick alone.

"Shh, my flower... You have nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe here with me," he said in a soft voice, causing you to spiral in your head, a thick tear finally daring to tip over the damp edge of your lower eyelid. His eyes followed the tear, sliding down your cheeks before resting in the crook of your chest. He dove down to catch the liquid with his tongue, but was halted by a harsh slap planted right across his face. ‘Why did I do that?’ you thought to yourself.

"You little bitch," he cursed, flipping you on your stomach and restraining your movements with much greater success than before. He unzipped his pants and pressed his hardness on your back, leaning close enough to your ear so you could hear the sick nothings he whispered to you.

"Do you feel that, love? That’s how much power you have over me. My manhood has always been my weakest member. It submits to you in ways I both love and hate. But I have control over your entire body, and don’t you ever fucking forget that," he ordered, sitting on your legs as he hurriedly stammered to remove your clothing. You knew that at this point, fighting wouldn’t help you, but the haste with which your clothes were flying off your body only added fuel to your rage. You felt foolish, used, and soon to be abused under his tight grip. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and you damned yourself for not seeing it any sooner. A cacophony of thoughts ran through your head, making you feel much more than half-crazy. You wanted to cry, and you did. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t. The only sound that escaped your mouth was a weak, raspy sentence:

"I’m not a flower, Jungwon."

He stopped abruptly, staring at your bare and bruised figure beneath him, glistening in a sheen of sweat. Your rebuttal rang true in his ears, and he said to himself, yes, you were indeed far from a flower. For now, that is. His aggressive demeanor switched to that of a more calm and understanding one. He leaned down to gently peck an appealing corner of your neck that he had previously marked, a cherry red hue rising to the surface of your skin. He then trailed a finger down your spine, saying something that you didn’t know was either to you or himself.

"Why didn’t I think of that before? Every flower ought to have petals." You were very confused yet grateful that the abuse didn’t go any further, with Jungwon leaping off of your tired body and running off to his personal shed, leaving a naked, crying you sprawled upon the checkered picnic mat alone under the sun. The once tasty delights had become the second most disgusting thing in the dreaded garden, with Jungwon placing first.

………………………………………………………………………………….

✎ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ ᴘ.ꜱ: this is my first fanfic, so i really hope you all enjoyed this short story! if it seems like i got a little carried away with myself here, it’s because i originally wrote this idea about someone else but changed my mind last minute haha… feel free to put in any requests for future works and provide feedback! love always <3

#enhypen #enhypen hard hours #jungwon hard hours #jungwon hard thoughts #yandere jungwon #jungwon suggestive #jungwon ff #enhypen angst #yang jungwon #kpop ff #jungwon smut #enhypen smut #enha smau #enha smut #enha hard hours

623 notes · View notes

snzleclerc · 21 days

Text

pizza date ! 🍕

*translated italian!!

The last few days haven't been easy, dealing with the end of a 3-year relationship is something no one wants to go through. And what's the best way to cope with that? Pizza.

I make my way to "La ricetta di Giovanni," a calm and tranquil pizzeria in the beautiful city of Positano, and from a distance, I can smell the delightful aroma of tomato sauce.

Upon entering the establishment, which is composed of bricks painted in a brown hue, dim yellow lights, small plants scattered around, tables with classic red and white tablecloths, ambient music, I feel a huge sense of peace and joy. Some people, mostly couples, are scattered around the tables engaged in long conversations, and the sound of cutlery on plates fills the air.

"Buona notte, bellissima! Qual è il piano per la serata?" ("Good evening, beautiful! What's the plan for tonight?") the voice of Martina, the best bartender in town, reaches my ears.

"Come sta Tina? Come al solito! E un bicchiere di vino, per favore!" ("How's Tina? The usual! And a glass of wine, please!") I reply, heading towards a table in the somewhat empty corner of the restaurant, with a beautiful view of the quiet streets.

The view is lovely and all, but what I can't help but notice the most is the beauty of the man sitting in front of me, a few tables away. My myopia doesn't help, but I notice his tousled brown hair and handsome face.

He seems to be in the same situation as me, alone and waiting for his order, and I wished he really was alone. Without a girlfriend.

Noticing more and more, his light gray shirt with a few buttons emphasizes his muscles which are crossed on his chest, he looks like a god.

I could analyze him all night long, until he slowly turns his head towards me, realizing my fixed gaze on him. I try to look away, but he smiles and shows his dimples, making me blush deeply.

God bless Filippo, the waiter who arrives with my wine and glass just in time before the man would see me redder than the wine itself.

I thank him and see that the man calls him to his table, I try to look curiously, but unfortunately, the waiter ends up blocking my view.

I pick up the wine and pour it into the beautiful glass I drink from, exchanging a few more glances with the man, now that Filippo has left.

A few moments later, the one who had just left returns with a new glass of wine and places it on my table, without saying anything. I try to understand what was happening, until I see a figure approaching me, wearing the same clothes I noticed before.

And when I least expect it, the handsome man is in front of me.

"Posso unirmi a voi?" ("Can I join you?") He asks me politely. "Sì, certo che sì" ("Yes, of course") I reply nervously, but with a smile on my face, adjusting my green dress.

He pulls the chair in front of me gently and sits down, resting his elbows on the table and analyzing me with a smile, making me smile back.

"Posso sapere il nome di questa bella signora seduta di fronte a me?" ("Can I know the name of this beautiful lady sitting in front of me?") His voice is like music to my ears. I notice his round glasses that perfectly match his face. "Giorgia. And yours, my dear?" I reply.

"Charles." He says and I let out a slight laugh through my nose. "What's wrong?" He asks with a little smile on his face. Oh, those dimples. "Charles..." I stop and think for a moment. "Sounds like a spoiled name." I add and we laugh in sync.

"But do I look spoiled?" He analyzes me more and I only see perfection. Green eyes, a beard grown but not long, the smell of expensive perfume...

"A little bit, but I'm not sure about your character." I stare into his deep eyes, the ones that could drive me crazy in a few seconds.

"Well, you can find out now." He says leaning in more over the table. "What brings you here?"

"I live here." I say looking around. "I recently ended a relationship, I needed to clear my head."

"Then I think it's important for us to get to know each other more tonight, huh?" Charles tells me with a smile, well... provocative. And I do nothing but the same.

Let's see what happens.

170 notes · View notes

iwaasfairy · 3 months

Text

ETCHED IN RED | VERMILLION Part 2

tw. dubcon/noncon, yandere, bullying, age gap, power imbalance, implied stalking wordcount. 1k

read part 1 here or see the valentine's masterlist

gojo satoru x reader

It’s been a while since you’ve left the countryside for Tokyo. It’s been even longer since you had the displeasure of being locked up in a room with the people who stood by while your life — well, you want to believe you can leave old grudges lie. It’s been half a decade, and people change. As you wade through the group of people, mostly old classmates and their partners, you regret coming alone.

Your cold hands play with the flute of champagne, before you look up again.

He’s yet to take his eyes off of you.

White hair and those blinding, paradise blue eyes… apart from maybe one extra line next to his eyes, he still looks the exact same. You’re very aware you do not. You made a purposeful effort to remove anything that made you you the second you left Tokyo. But it doesn’t really surprise you all that much to see that he still recognises you. Gojo’s might just be surprised to see that you came at all. If you were smarter, you wouldn’t have.

It’s been long enough that you could’ve ignored the invite. Could’ve pretended like you didn’t know the class of cheery misfits, that you never got it at all. But Yuuta had sounded apologetic, and maybe somewhere deep down you wanted to believe that everything had changed. That you’d arrive and you wouldn’t feel the same helplessness you felt. Maybe seeing one of your beloved friend’s memorial pictures would mend things, and you could let go of the strings still pulling you back.

Being that it isn’t just a reunion, but a memorial too; there’s very little music to fill the space. It leaves everything awfully raw and exposed. Your shift the glass from holding, to placing, to holding again. Flutter your nervous fingers along the stem, as you flip through the picturebooks they’ve left on the table, alongside the framed picture of her. Before she was Yuuta’s flame, she was your friend— came to Tokyo Jujutsu High on the same train as you. You flip through some of the yearbook until you find a picture that makes you swallow tighter.

It’s you and her, Makki, Panda, Inumaki. And of course Gojo, white hair hanging loosely over his shades, his arms around Yuuta’s shoulders. You remember the day it was taken. You remember the way you’d brushed away your spilled tears and had puffed your chest out like none of it had any effect on you, and how you’d watched Yuuta ignore you through the gap in the door. While Satoru embarrassed you, humiliated you, threatened to ruin you. The more vile stuff had come only later; but you can’t help but think that if anyone had said something, none of it would have happened in the first place.

You wouldn’t have had to hide like a rat under the floorboards.

His scent spooks you before he can even make his presence known, has you bumping into the table of entrées when you turn. Your eyes meet his through the tinted glass, but it doesn’t take away from the intensity that stares back. A tad bit too wide to be comforting, a little too wild to feel familiar. You’re pinned like a bug under his towering shape, and though he smiles, you don’t feel it. Gojo Satoru’s even more unsettling than you gave him credit for. Something about distance making the heart grow fonder. “Hardly believe my eyes,” he chuckles, “I didn’t hear you’d swing by. It’s been a few years…”

You nod back, certain the smile doesn’t reach. “I quit, you can’t expect me to come by every few weeks. You’re all busy, and I decided our line of work wasn’t for me, so…”

He chuckles at that, and runs long fingers through his hair. “Even though we’re so understaffed?”

“Because we’re understaffed. Too many familiar faces.” If he catches your underhanded dig, he doesn’t show it. But Gojo was always good at hiding whatever was bothering him. “It’s good to see Miwa, Inumaki and Makki again.” Your eyes flick over his shoulder to another familiar face standing among their circle, but can’t make yourself say a nice word about him either. A few years ago you would’ve added him to the list too. But here, you can’t call him a friend. “Panda and the staff too.”

“You look really different. Wouldn’t surprise me if the staff didn’t recognise you.” He eyes you down for a few moments, before taking your drink out of your hands and downing it. Not even a question, he just takes. Like he can still scare you into owning every part of you. “But I guess if anyone was going to quit, it would’ve been you or Yuuta. Must’ve been hard after the funeral.”

It shouldn’t surprise you that he’s managing to twist your fondness back onto you. However much it hurt, that wasn’t the straw. No, it’s always been Satoru. He’s the reason you left. He already knows this. You don’t expect the picture-perfect smile he’s giving you to slip any time soon. “It was. Especially because I didn’t really have any support.” You glare at him just barely, before picking your now empty glass back up. “Following your lead and all.” It doesn’t bring you the resolution you hoped it’d bring.

Even when you watch him chew his tongue for a response, or when his eyes sink down your chest to your hands clasped around the flute. To the glittering stone on your finger. For once, he raises his eyebrows too high, eyes searching. Maybe he expected the threat of violence to stop you for longer. “Got married in your time away?” He’s quick to school his expression back, and if it wasn’t for the forced jerk of his mouth corners, you could believe he’d actually be happy for you.

“Engaged,” you force out. It’s the truth. It’s just that as soon as it’s out, you wish it right back. There’s something wrong with his eyes. “It’s been good catching up.” You would add some false pleasantries after, but Gojo would just take it as an invitation. “I’m going to talk to Miwa, haven’t seen her in years.” A hand wraps around your shoulder when you try to slip past him, gripping too tight. With one long step he almost forced you into the wall. His smart tongue presses against his teeth, before he softens his grip and lets you go.

“You look beautiful, baby. Missed your pretty eyes staring up at me like that.” You turn over your shoulder to glance at him instinctively, just long enough to watch the Cheshire grin slip onto his lips. Before he winks, and strides past you back towards the group — stopping only to brush his mouth past the shell of your ear when he dips. “Can’t wait to catch up. It’s been a long five years, hasn’t it?”

#tw.noncon #tw.yandere #tw.bullying #gojo satoru yandere #🍯honey.pot #jjk smut #dark content

274 notes · View notes

mylucayathoughts · 7 months

Text

Little moments that I love in Red White and Royal Blue. PART 6 (haha I'm going feral)

I know these scenes have been talked about like hundreds of times already but I still need to get the feels out of my system, plz bear with me 🙏😭

When Alex bends almost 90 degrees to take a look at Henry at the royal wedding. He seeks out Henry so much already it is so cute 😍 His commentary "He is so smug and entitled", "he's such a snob" and "I swear he's not 6 feet 2!" and yet we get this eager look from him 😝

Alex was MAD at Henry but he never meant for his suit to get ruined, he was so drunk he forgot that he had whipped cream all over his hands. You can see from his reaction that he realized he fucked up and says sorry immediately, even tries to clean the suit with his cream hands 🤣

"Well now I feel like I need to apologize" - and I'm sure it took some pressure off of Henry. Wish we saw his reaction. I bet he was finally at peace knowing that Alex doesn't dislike him anymore or at least sympathizes with him.

The face Alex makes at his phone after talking to Henry, if only he could see it 😏 he LOVED every second of the call 😍 and he adores Henry but he hadn't realized it yet, my dumbass baby 🤧

During the new years party, whenever Alex was physically away from Henry, his mind wasn't 😏

The way Henry grabs Alex's face and pulls closer while he kisses him 😩😍🦋 you can see the wrinkles on Alex's cheek.

My boy (Henry) was really going at it and then Alex closes his eyes and gives in to the kiss 🥺

Henry giving Alex a look after his "the night is still young Ma!" he must be thinking "what exactly are your intentions?" 😝

Then he smiles both at the joke and at the prospect 🤣😏

Alexs come-hither look 👀👀 gotta mention Taylor, he was so good with his expressions here, (focus was on him in this scene, as opposed to the Paris scene where we saw Nicholas's mostly)

From the red room to Alex's bedroom - the whole thing is just so beautifully scripted, well directed, well acted. Cinema peaked here guys 😍😩 I have no complaints!

I love love how before leaving, Henry took one good look at Alex, took a deep breath, smiled and slowly turned away. Like he couldn't believe his own damn luck that he was just with Alex, after years of longing. And that Alex seems to want him too 🥺

Henry struggling with his buttons and Alex immediately going to help him and their sweet little smiles in this scene 😍 And Nicholas and Taylors acting here, part eager, part excited, part nervous, part silly 😩😩😩 beautiful honestly 😭

Henry saying "oh and I told my sister" and Alex's "awe I didn't know that" and they both get lost into their own little world forgetting the tornado in the room that is Zahra. Boyfriends™

I almost cropped out Alex's butt here (which would be a crime btw) but I didn't and Henry's smile 😩😍 he is such a cutie patootie 😘

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 7

#Red white and royal blue #Rwrb #Firstprince #Alex x Henry #Alex Claremont Diaz #Prince Henry #henry george edward james hanover stuart fox #Nicholas Galitzine #Taylor Zakhar Perez #Rwrb movie

245 notes · View notes

ckret2 · 4 months

Text

Chapter 31 of human Bill grudgingly enduring being the Pines' prisoner because the Henchmaniacs won't take his call: Summerween night! Everyone gets ridiculous costumes!

The Summerween Trickster's buddies are attempting to resurrect him. Robbie's making a music video. Bill's attempting to woo Ford back into friendship, to terrify Dipper with cursed knowledge, and to recover his dignity from THE most gentle chastising imaginable, and he only succeeds in 1 out of 3 of these endeavors:

It's not this one. He's just gotta process these emotions while wearing that stupid wig.

####

Soos was putting the final touches on his cosplay (the suave and mysterious Masked Guy In A Suit, love interest of the heroine from the classic anime Teenage Planetary Soldier Girls) when he heard the phone ring in the office. "Hold on, I'll get it!" He hurried downstairs, ducked under a construction paper chain Mabel had strung over the door, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

A mysterious voice droned, "The sun sets a deep blood red."

"Oh, no thanks, we don't want any." Soos hung up, sighed happily, and said, "Ah, Summerween. Always brings out the weirdos."

"Hey Soos!" Mabel ducked into the doorway. "Where's the candy bowl?"

"Oh, hey Hambone. It's in my bedroom." He put on a stage whisper. "I put it in there so Bill couldn't steal it."

"Thanks Soos!" She ran upstairs.

Dipper and Bill waited downstairs, the tension thick between them (on Dipper's side, anyway; Bill—watching a black-and-white horror movie, sipping at a can of cider, and brooding over going to voicemail—didn't notice). Dipper was waiting by the door in a folding chair; but he kept glancing toward Bill in the living room. When the silence got too much to bear, he asked, "Okay, what are you dressed as?"

Bill was wearing a brown bedsheet toga (the most historically-accurate part of his costume); a cheap wig of a teased mullet that had ended up mostly red with yellow streaks, forming a plume of hair right over his head and then a long straight tail he'd draped over his shoulder; and a bunch of paper faux-Greek homes taped all around the hem of his toga, forming a ring around his calves.

"And are those my sandals?" Dipper asked.

"Take it up with Mabel, she loaned them on your behalf," Bill said. "I'm not telling my costume. You have to guess it."

"Seriously?" Dipper sighed. It had to be a god, gods towered over their mortals' temples. What god would wear brown? "I don't know—Demeter?"

"What? No. Do I seem like the Demeter type? Pathetic." Bill waved off his guess. As Mabel ran downstairs, Bill said, "Hey, Shooting Star, you haven't made your official guess yet."

Without hesitation, Mabel said, "A time-traveling hair metal singer touring the Roman Empire and trying to find a way home before his hair dye runs out."

"Wrong, but I would love to live in the world you've dreamed up." He meandered into the entryway to join Mabel as she plopped down in the second chair by the door.

Dipper screwed up his face. "Are you helping us answer the door?"

"No, you're helping me answer the door. I'm cursed, remember?" Bill leaned over Mabel's shoulder, dug into the candy bowl, and popped a lollipop in his mouth. "But you're not getting rid of me, if that's what you're asking."

Soos headed to the door, cape billowing dramatically behind him. "Hey dudes. Hey Bill." He paused in the door, studying Bill. "Hey! Is that a Bobo the Uncouth Berserker cosplay?"

Bill blinked. "Who?"

"Bobo the Uncouth Berserker! You've gotta read Bobo. He's this primitive hero descended from lost Lemuria who goes on daring adventures through the lush impenetrable jungles of Central Europe. He's got this comic that was so popular it spawned an anime, which got an American movie adaptation, which formed the basis of a second comic continuity that isn't as critically acclaimed as the original but has drawn in a lot of new fans... and..." Soos petered out. "You're not Bobo, are you."

Bill shook his head. "Thanks for playing."

"Aw." Soos's shoulders slumped. "Anyway—me and Melody are gonna be at the cosplay contest at the theater. I'll keep my phone on in case of monsters."

"We'll be fine!" Mabel said. "Go have fun!"

"You too!" With a dramatic flourish of his cape, Soos disappeared into the night.

Bill watched Soos go enviously. He could have been given a human body that looked that good in a suit and top hat, but was he? No. It wasn't fair. And Soos didn't even wear the right hat size.

Dipper glanced sideways at Bill. "Hey. Is... Lemuria real?"

"Not anymore." Bill perked up as Stan passed by, dressed like Frankenstein's monster. "Hey, Stanley! You haven't guessed yet. What am I?"

Stan surveyed him. "White columned buildings, Statue of Liberty dress, and a red clown wig. I dunno, the American government?"

Bill squawked in laughter. "That's my favorite wrong answer so far. I like you, Stanley." He fished a chocolate bar out of the bowl and held it out.

Stan grunted in disapproval, but accepted the candy. "If any of you need me, I'm gonna be up on the roof, terrifying kids." He held up a boombox and a cassette that said "Spooky Sound Effects of Halloween". "If you hear screaming children, don't worry: that means I'm winning."

"Where's your brother?" Bill asked.

"Avoiding you." Stan passed through the living room and left.

Bill's shoulders slumped; but he just dug into the candy bowl for more chocolate. Then the first trick-or-treater knocked on the door, and Dipper jumped up in relief to answer it.

The shack didn't attract quite as many trick-or-treaters as the houses closer to the center of town, but they got a steady stream of children, and more than they'd gotten the year before. Between visitors, Bill dug into their candy stock, gleefully ignoring Dipper's complaints. After the fourth or fifth visitor, Dipper and Mabel realized that Bill was covering up the amount of candy he'd pilfered by meticulously re-folding the empty wrappers and putting them back in the bowl.

"It's fair play," Bill said. He untwisted one end of a Twisty Roll tube, squeezed out the candy, blew into the wrapper to re-inflate it, and twisted the end shut again. "The kids are trick-or-treating, right? Sometimes they get treats and sometimes they get tricks."

"Come on, seriously?" Dipper said. "Even for you this is low. You're literally taking candy from babies."

"The babies are trying to take candy from us. I have no sympathy." With the precision of an origami master, Bill refolded a paper fruit chew wrapper into a box and dropped it back into the bowl.

"They're supposed to take candy from us, that's how the holiday works." Dipper looked at Mabel for support.

But she was holding up an empty 3 Fencers wrapper and squeezing it lightly between her fingers. "Wow. How did you make the wrapper puffy again? It's so convincing."

Bill shot Dipper a nasty smile, then turned to Mabel and said magnanimously, "I'll teach you everything I know." He twirled a glue stick between his fingers.

Another trick-or-treater knocked, and Dipper answered.

"Trick or treat! Please give us the worst candy you have."

Mabel blinked, leaning around Dipper to see who was outside. "Wait, what?"

Outside stood a purple-furred monster with a dozen limbs from a dozen different creatures. He gasped in surprise. "Ohhh, twin costumes! That's so cute! What are you two, haunted dolls?"

Dipper took a surprised step back. "Limby Jimmy?"

The monster was silent a moment, taken aback. He took off a bear mask he'd made out of a paper plate. "Is it that obvious?"

Mabel asked, "Have we...?"

Dipper said, "Oh! Sorry—Mabel, this is Limby Jimmy, I ran into him last year in the Crawlspace under town when I was trying to get your face back—"

Helpfully, Bill threw in, "He's Gravity Falls' most accomplished arms dealer. And legs dealer, and tails dealer, and ears dealer..."

"Limby, this is my sister Mabel. Actually, I don't know if I ever introduced myself—"

Limby Jimmy cut in, "Ohhh, yeah, I remember you! You're Troll Boy, right?"

Dipper winced. "It's—it's Dipper, actually." He paused. "Wow. We meet a lot of weird people."

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy!" Mabel held out a hand. After a moment of thought, Jimmy elected to shake it with a tentacle and a dog's paw.

"What are you doing up here?" Dipper asked. "Is Summerween the one night of the year that Gravity Falls' monsters can walk among humans without fear?"

"Oh no, I'm terrified. I wouldn't be out here if I wasn't collecting donations," Jimmy said.

"Donations?"

Jimmy hesitated, then lowered his voice. "You've been in the Crawlspace, so, you and your sister are cool, but is the lady...?" He wiggled a hoof toward Bill.

Coolly, Bill said, "I'm actually an ancient interdimensional energy being cursed to wear a human form."

Dipper and Mabel flinched in alarm and rounded on Bill, hissing, "Bill!" "Shhh!"

Ignoring them, Bill said, "So, continue."

"Oh," Jimmy said brightly. "That's all right then, yuk yuk." He wiggled his multitude of right arms. "I don't know if you humans have heard yet, but the Summerween Trickster got eaten to death last summer! It's really sad!"

Dipper and Mabel, who had watched as he was eaten to death, stayed quiet.

"But probably happy for him?" Jimmy mused. "Since I think that's what he wanted? But it's sad for the rest of his poker group, we all miss him! So I'm out here with Doug—"

"Who?" Dipper asked, looking around the porch for a second monster.

"Oh, he's back there." Jimmy pointed toward a tree at the edge of the clearing around the Mystery Shack. The tree chittered unnervingly. "We're going around collecting donations to resurrect the Trickster! Or... re-summon him? Or however this works. We never really asked him how he came to exist, it seemed rude."

"Naturally," Bill said. "You can't just ask a freak what made him so freaky. It's a sensitive topic."

"Right! You understand," Jimmy said. "Anyway, we need a lot of crappy candy!" He looked at their bowl. "Which pieces have the kids been ignoring this year?"

Mabel had started bouncing on the balls of her dusty Victorian ghost shoes; and the moment she had a turn to speak, she squealed in excitement. "You're the Summerween Trickster's friend! That's perfect! Stay here, I'll be right back!" She shoved the candy bowl into Bill's arms and zoomed up the stairs. "I've got some stuff for him!"

Bill looked at the bowl, looked at the stairs, shoved the candy in Dipper's arms, and followed Mabel. "Hey, Shooting Star? What are you doing?"

Her voice drifted down the stairs: "Getting a donation! I'll be just a minute!"

"Hold on, you're actually helping that guy?" Bill laughed. "Why?" He climbed high enough to poke his head above the attic floor and lowered his voice so Jimmy couldn't hear. "I wasn't paying that much attention last Summerween, but I got the impression from your little costume store brawl that the Trickster was trying to kill you kids. Am I missing something?"

"I mean, yeah, he was—but he was in a really bad place back then, that doesn't mean he deserves to be dead for it. And now he knows someone out there wants to eat him, so maybe he'll be less insecure and evil." Mabel laughed, "Anyway, the Trickster isn't that bad! He didn't try to kill me half as hard as you did!"

Bill froze a couple of steps from the top of the stairs. He didn't move for a few seconds; and then wordlessly, he slunk back downstairs.

Dipper watched as Bill, face beet red, trudged into the living room. "Hey. What's Mabel...?"

"How should I know." Bill curled up on the couch, picked up the can of cider he'd been drinking earlier, shotgunned it, and glowered at the horror movie on TV.

Dipper considered Bill—all alone in the living room and not doing anything important—and considered Mabel, upstairs; and said, "Hey, Jimmy. Do you mind waiting out here until Mabel gets back."

"Sure! I don't have any plans." Jimmy rocked back on his many heels.

"Cool. Thanks." Dipper shut the door.

He sidled oh so very casually into the living room and leaned against the TV. "Guess it's just the two of us right now."

Bill's gaze didn't waver from the TV. "Terrific counting skills, Troll Boy." He popped open another cider can.

Dipper grit his teeth. Let it go. "Sooo! You're from the second dimension, huh? What's that like?" (His voice cracked embarrassingly on "that.") "Just—just curious. Making friendly conversation. Caaasual conversation." He flashed a pair of finger guns at Bill, to underscore just how casual he was. "Yyyep." Witness the junior paranormal investigator in action.

Bill turned the cold, empty eyes of a killer on Dipper. He took a long, slow sip from his cider. And he asked himself: what can I say that will make this stupid boy regret ever daring to speak to me?

Bill smiled. "Yeah. Sure. Okay," he said. "You wanna know what it's like? Have you ever read the Allegory of the Cave?"

Dipper hesitated. "By... Plato?"

"That one. You know—ignorance is like being a prisoner chained in a cave, watching shadow puppets being cast on a wall, and thinking they're reality; and having knowledge is like being outside the cave in the sunlight, seeing the real shapes that are casting the shadows—"

"I have read it, actually," Dipper said, a tad defensively. "It was for extra credit in—"

"English class, I know."

Dipper frowned; but he soldiered on. "So... living in the second dimension is like being chained in a cave, staring at the shadows on the wall, and thinking that's reality? Bleak."

Bill laughed so loudly that Dipper started. "Wow, you're so dumb! Use your brain, kid: it's the second dimension. You're not the prisoner: you're the shadow on the wall." Bill's lip curled in a sneer, "An illusion in somebody else's allegory. And the only one who can see the cave's exit... is you. That's what the second dimension is like!" He laughed again. It sounded forced.

"Oh," Dipper mumbled. He tried to wrap his head around the idea of being a living metaphor for ignorance. "Sounds... pretty bad?"

"Awful," Bill agreed. "Doesn't hold a candle to what your dimension has going on, though."

"Wh... why, what's going on in the third dimension?"

Bill gave him a malicious smile, and Dipper had the sinking feeling he'd just walked into an obvious trap. "You idiot, you still think you're in the third dimension? Really?"

Was that a trick question? What answer was Bill looking for? What could this be if not the third dimension? "Nnooo?"

"Wow. I can really see why you're a straight-A's honors student," Bill said. "You're so good at figuring out what answer the test wants and regurgitating it—even if you don't actually understand it at all." He heaved himself back to his feet; and Dipper was sure there was something threatening in the movement—something that reminded Dipper that he was talking to a dangerously unstable extinction level event precariously packed into an unsteady human body. "Although copying the year of the Louisiana Purchase off of Brandon's test in fifth grade probably didn't hurt, did it."

Dipper's stomach dropped. The secret shame buried beneath the foundation of his honors roll-worthy record. Pull that out and his entire academic career came toppling down. He'd get kicked out of the honors classes. He'd go to jail. Was cheating against the law? "H... how did—?"

"What year was the Louisiana Purchase?"

Dipper's brain immediately went blank. He was silent, trapped in the paralyzing intensity of Bill's gaze. After several terrifying seconds, he croaked, "1803?" and hoped he was right.

"Attaboy. Too bad you couldn't have learned that a little sooner, isn't it?" As he spoke, Bill had closed in on Dipper until he'd backed him into the corner behind the TV set, filling Dipper's exit route with one hand on the TV and the other on the wall. "But we were talking about dimensions, weren't we! Whaddaya like to read, kid," Bill asked too casually, "do you like cosmic horror? Do you know what real 'cosmic horror' is?"

Dipper regretted this conversation completely.

"It's having an eyeball on the inside of your body, and seeing another dimension through it. And ohoho, I think you'd be amazed at the things I can see from here—"

Dipper got the distinct impression that if he didn't get out of this conversation, he would only hear things he'd be telling his therapist about for months. "Cool! Good talk, man. Hey Mabel?" (That was an absolutely humiliating voice crack.) "How's it going?"

A pause. "I think I need help!"

"Coming!" Dipper ran behind the TV to escape Bill and gratefully bolted upstairs.

The kid had caved so fast. And Bill had only just been getting started. He smirked, sat, and turned back to the movie.

A moment later, Mabel and Dipper came back downstairs, carrying four bulging plastic grocery bags. Mabel set one by her feet, opened the door, and shoved the first bag into Jimmy's arms. "Here! You can give these to the Trickster!" She shoved over the second bag.

Jimmy stumbled back under the weight. "Whoa there! What is this?"

"Candy chalk-hearts! I completely bought out the leftovers after Valentine's Day," Mabel said. "I wanted to make sure that if we met the Trickster again, I could let him know he's loved and appreciated as the terrifying avatar of spooky holiday spirit that he is! And that I also respect that he's made out of gross candy nobody likes to eat." She picked up a chalk-heart box and waved it in Jimmy's face. "So here's a gross candy that expresses love! See, the little hearts say things like 'You smell nice' and 'I heart ur face,' but they taste like if dehydration was a flavor."

Dipper handed his bags to Jimmy. "Wait—Mabel, that's why you got all these? You've been planning to help the Trickster since February? I thought you were gonna build a chalk-heart house or something."

"Oooh, that's such a good idea. I should do that next year!" To Jimmy, she said, "I was gonna give these to him personally, but if he's still dead, I guess you can add it to his candy sacrifice pile or whatever? And make sure he gets this!" She handed Jimmy a store bought Shimmery Twinkleheart Valentine's card. It read, "I BELIEVE in our friendship! Happy Valentine's Day!" Mabel had scratched out "Valentine's" and written "Summerween".

Choked up, Jimmy said, "Oh—wow. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for us all night. I'm sure the Trickster will really appreciate it when he's not dead anymore."

Dipper was a little more vengeful. Dipper didn't want to do anything for one of the many guys that had tried to kill them last year. But, on the other hand, Mabel had just gone all in on this, and Jimmy seemed nice enough, so... Dipper sighed. Whatever, it was Summerween and this was a trick-or-treater. "Hey," he picked up the candy bowl. "There's really only one bag of good candy in here. The bottom of the bowl is filled with after-dinner mints our great uncle's been stealing from restaurants for the last six months. The Trickster would probably love that, right?"

"Aww—thanks so much, you guys! We'll have the poker group back together in no time!" Jimmy dug past the good candy and started scooping mints into his bag. "Oh—since I'm here, can I ask about our other poker buddy? Do either of you know Mr. What's-His-Face? He disappeared around the time you were visiting the Crawlspace, maybe one of you saw something? Any information would be helpful." Jimmy looked at them with weird, plus-shaped, but very hopeful eyes. "Between the Trickster's death and Whatsis disappearing, the local paranormal community's been hit hard. Especially us guys in their friend group. I'm—I'm not gonna lie," Jimmy heaved a sigh, "It's been a really hard year."

Dipper and Mabel, who were directly and personally at fault for Mr. What's-His-Face's disappearance and knew he was frozen in stasis in Ford's bunker at that very moment, exchanged a look and came to a silent agreement.

"Nope, don't know anything," Mabel said.

"Sorry, buddy," Dipper said.

Like the Summerween Trickster, Mr. What's-His-Face was a weird faceless shapeshifty monster that had tried to kill them. But they felt like that was where the similarities ended.

By the time of the Trickster's death, Mabel and Dipper had realized that his deepest inner longing was to be called good enough to eat. Mr. What's-His-Face's deepest inner longing was to steal innocent people's faces. If Mabel and Dipper helped resurrect the Trickster, he'd probably go back to ensuring everyone displayed sufficient holiday spirit, while hopefully mellowing out about eating people now that he'd been consumed once. On the other hand, if Mabel and Dipper helped free Mr. What's-His-Face, he'd probably just keep stealing faces.

And on top of all that, they could help resurrect the Trickster without admitting they knew the guy who ate him. They couldn't really lead Jimmy to Mr. What's-His-Face without admitting their great uncle was keeping him captive. And that would be a problem for the whole family.

"Oh," Jimmy said. "Okay, that's fine. Thanks for all your help. You know where to reach us if you hear anything."

Mabel shook her head. Dipper nodded. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Jimmy hopped off the porch, shouted, "Hey Doug, can you help me carry these?" and chucked a couple of bags of chalk-hearts toward the tree line. Dipper and Mabel stared. Nothing emerged to pick the bags up.

They shut the door.

"Man," Dipper said. "We kinda devastated the paranormal poker group last summer, didn't we?"

"Yeah." Mabel sucked in a breath between her teeth. "Wow. Feels... kinda bad."

Dipper offered her the candy bowl. "Drown our feelings in chocolate?"

"Please."

They grabbed a piece of candy each, tore open the wrappers—and frowned. Mabel stomped a foot. "Dang it—Bill!"

"Hm?"

"How many of these wrappers are empty?!"

Bill poked his head out of the living room and said, smugly, "Like candy from a baby!"

####

A knock, and Dipper opened the door. "Wendy! Hey! Good timing—"

"Hey." Wendy lowered her voice. "Quick question—this is super important—is Goldie here?"

"Uh—yeah, why—?"

"Yello?" Bill carefully wove his way out of the living room, already less steady on his feet than when he'd sat down. "I heard my name, who's summoning me?"

Wendy pointed over the twins at Bill and turned to shout into the dark, "Ladies and gentlemen! I present to you! Live and in person... Toga Lady!"

A half dozen teenagers immediately went bananas. Hooting and hollering and cheering and whistling: "To-ga! To-ga! To-ga!"

Bill's entire face lit up. Without missing a beat, he pushed past the baffled twins out onto the porch and spread his arms wide, basking in the cheering. "That's right, keep it coming! Worship me! I'm the greatest!"

"Yes!" Robbie pumped a fist in the air. "The legends were true!" Nate immediately added, "The prophecy! The prophecy!" Tambry snapped photos of Toga Lady's fresh look as fast as her phone could save them, muttering, "Everyone's gonna flip when they find out you're still in town."

Wendy waited, grinning, until her friends' faux hysterics had died down. "Okay—okay, after getting you hyped up, I should probably say that Toga Lady is actually Toga Guy." She glanced questioningly at Bill. "I think?"

"Eh, I'm not picky."

"Anyway this is Goldie, he was stuck in another dimension for thirty years, it's crazy, and now he's like my illegal backup cashier. He actually... doesn't usually wear togas?"

Bill laughed. "If you can't wear a bedsheet on Summerween, when can you?"

Lee said, "Thompson wore a bedsheet to homecoming."

"Hey."

Bill pointed at Thompson. "A man of impeccable fashion! I like it!" Thompson gave him a look of eternal gratitude.

"And Goldie, this is the gang! That's Thompson, he's the guy with the van; Robbie and Tambry, they're like, gender-swapped versions of each other, they even share their hair dye..."

As Wendy did introductions, Mabel whispered to Dipper, "Did you know she was gonna introduce Goldie to everyone?"

"No! This is bad, I told her not to trust him..."

Bill was responding to a question, "No, no, you've gotta guess, I'm making everyone guess!"

The teens considered the question. Robbie offered first, "Punk caveman?"

"Nope!"

Hesitantly, Thompson tried, "Nero fiddling over the burning of Rome?" He winced when Lee laughed.

"I like where your head's at, but no! I can't fiddle."

"The gremlin king from Huge Maze?" Tambry said.

Mabel piped up, "No, but the wig came from a gremlin king costume and I appreciate you for recognizing that!" Tambry nodded in cool approval.

Bill dispensed of Lee, Nate, and Wendy's guesses—Greek Christmas tree, that one guy who keeps painting burning banks, and hair metal Hades—before Robbie loudly cleared his throat to cut in. "Anyway, would love to stay and chat, but we've gotta move if we wanna be in position before sunset. Dipper, Mabel, you ready?"

"Ready to ghost it up!" Mabel said, squeezing around Bill with Dipper onto the porch.

Robbie surveyed their makeup—deathly white skin, ashen grey lips, and dark circles around their eye sockets. "Yeah, that's pretty good. Could use a little color, maybe. Like bloody tears?" He turned toward Tambry.

She said, "I think I've got some red eyeliner."

"'In position'?" Bill asked, giving Dipper and Mabel a questioning look.

Wendy said, "We're helping Robbie film this music video tonight."

"We're the creepy ghost twins!" Mabel announced proudly. "We get to sing the chorus."

Robbie said, "Yeah, the song's about childhood and growing up, but like, with ghosts? Because once you've grown up, your childhood is all dead? It's metal, but introspective. I'm calling the genre 'intrometal.'" He flipped his bangs dramatically. "It's a super deep song. Metaphorical layers."

"Oh yeah?" Bill stared Robbie down. "Sing some of it."

Robbie blinked. "Oh. Yeah, okay uh, I haven't warmed up my voice but, the hook is like—" He pantomimed playing a guitar and whisper-screamed, "'BABY DOLLS! BASKET BALLS! BASKET CASE! HUMAN RACE!' Like that."

Bill nodded slowly, face expressionless. "Ah, yeah, I see. Really deep stuff. Makes you think."

"Thanks." Robbie looked at Dipper and Mabel. "Anyway, if we're gonna get any footage in the graveyard before the jack-o'-melons start burning out, we've gotta move. Let's go, Creepy Ghost Twins."

"Wait, you're going out?" Bill asked Mabel. "Like out-out? Leaving me here? By myself? On Summerween?"

"Wh—yeah, we're only handing out candy for half the night," Mabel said. "I told you that."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did!"

"When?"

Mabel thought. "No I didn't," she admitted. "Sorry!"

Wendy punched Bill's arm. "Sorry to steal them. We'll be back in a couple of hours," she said. "Or you could come help—?"

"No!" Dipper and Mabel both shoved Bill back into the house before he could accept. Dipper said, "You've gotta—guard the house." Mabel added, "And hand out candy!"

"Right," Bill said flatly. "Yes. That. Ha."

"See you later!" Mabel said, and then shut the door in his face.

The last thing he heard was Wendy explaining to her friends, "He's on house arrest for, like, academic plagiarism and war crimes or something..." and then they were gone.

Bill's shoulders slumped. Well, now what? He couldn't celebrate a holiday by himself. What was the point of wearing a costume if no one sees you in it. He picked up a piece of candy, discovered it was one of his decoys, and picked up another.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Bill sighed. He picked up the candy bowl, turned toward the door, and paused. Ah. Right. What was he supposed to do with this impenetrable portal-blocking slab of wood.

Who was left in the house? Stan on the roof, Ford in the basement, Abuelita probably already in bed... were any of them worth harassing to help him answer the door? Maybe Stan, he'd gotten all dressed up, he liked the holiday even if he didn't like Bill—

The trick-or-treater knocked more insistently.

Or. Or.

He could pick up the bowl, peer out the small window in the door, and make direct eye contact with the children outside while he ate candy.

As a piece of mid-tier chocolate melted on his tongue, he saw three trick-or-treaters' faces fall as their faith in a kind, caring universe died. He grinned at them and ate another chocolate.

Oh yeah. He grabbed the rest of his cider from the living room and set up post next to the door. This would keep him entertained the rest of the night.

####

He made seven small children cry.

####

Stan watched from his post on the roof as yet another sobbing kid ran away from the shack. "HA! Gottem! Sucker!" He affectionately patted his boombox. "Creepy ghoulish laughter, you never disappoint! Terrifying moochers since 1989!" He paused the cassette and rewound it a few seconds to replay the best part.

He heard a scraping sound above him, and looked up just in time to see Ford sliding down the roof to join him. "Oh, hey! I didn't think we'd see you again tonight."

"Mabel made me promise to celebrate Summerween a little."

"Good for her!"

Stan had already claimed the sun lounger, so Ford brushed some dust and leaves off the roof's cooler and sat. "So, what are we doing? Scaring trick-or-treaters?"

"Yep. This year I'm taking a more atmospheric approach." He gestured at his boombox, which by now was playing haunting organ music. "Nothing like screaming zombies and rattling chains from nowhere to freak out the kids."

Ford nodded. "Psychological torment. I approve."

"Not quite as good as getting to see the terror in their eyes, but." Stan shrugged. "Bill was hanging out with the kids. I didn't want to put up with him."

"Mm. There's a reason I was spending the holiday in the basement."

"Heh. Well, there's always Halloween."

They were silent for a moment, listening as the cassette moved on from organ music to werewolf howls. Stan asked, "Think we'll be rid of him by then? I know we were hoping to be done with him before the Fourth of July—but since I haven't heard anything lately, I figure you hit a roadblock."

Ford winced. "Guilty as charged." He was still relearning how to keep other people in the loop. Even Stan. "You're right. I have a weapon that can destroy him, but I can't find a fuel source without restarting the portal. I'm hoping Fiddleford will come up with a solution I haven't."

Stan nodded. Ford had told him he was getting Fiddleford involved; even as reluctant as Ford was to admit how little progress he'd made, he wasn't going to tell someone outside the family about Bill without letting Stan know. "Any breakthroughs on his end?"

####

During the credits between episodes of the retired samurai period drama (most recently, the samurai had been asked to use his sword to help cut flowers for a bouquet), Fiddleford leaned over and whispered to Ford, "So I've been a-lookin' at those blueprints you left me."

"And...?"

"And I've constructicated a power adaptor. Just jimmy out the fuel tank, swap it for the adaptor's cord, and you can power that weapon by pluggin' it into the wall! It'll just drain all the power from the town for a few seconds, that's all."

"Fiddleford, that's amazing—"

"Now, hold on. There's bad news," Fiddleford said. "Try as I might, I can't quite get it to draw enough power to activate those energy-destroying features what you'd need to disintegrate Bill. It'll work like a powerful laser, but nothin' else."

Ford sighed. "It's a starting point, I suppose."

"I'll send you home with the adaptor anyway. Never know when you'll need a big laser."

"Very true. Do you have any promising leads on other alternative fuels?"

Fiddleford shook his head. "It's the NowUSeeitNowUDontium or nothing. But I've got a hunch we could synthesize it under lab conditions. I'll letcha know in a few days."

And then the next episode started, and they dropped the conversation.

####

Ford let out a heavy sigh. "He's only had a partial success so far. But I'm hopeful he's on the right track."

"So, if he's working on this weapon, what are you doing?"

"Waiting, mostly. I don't know what else I can do."

Stan frowned. "What—that's it? You've been downstairs all day every day—if you're not figuring out how to destroy him, what are you doing?"

"Passing time somewhere I can be on call if he gets up to something—but I don't have to look at him," Ford said wryly. "And—as long as I'm waiting to hear back from Fiddleford, I've been... picking apart that list of spells Bill gave me. To see if any of them are tricks or traps."

Stan couldn't say he was surprised. That was his workaholic brother. A pamphlet of demon magic was like catnip to him. If anything, Stan was almost glad Ford had that letter to distract him. Over the past year...

Well, Ford was fine on land—when he temporarily had a mystery to solve, an adventure to pursue, an anomaly to study, a distraction to fill his time—but at sea, when his mind was unoccupied, he was listless. He had books he didn't read, field notes he didn't enter into his journal, games he didn't play. He fed himself and exercised and did chores around the ship like a robot programmed to take care of itself, and he stared out at the sea.

Last summer, Ford hadn't seemed happy but he'd seemed alive. Tired and angry, but alive. But after Weirdmageddon, a light in his eyes went out. Stan didn't know if it was the end of summer, or guilt over the memory gun, or the gap between finishing a thirty-year-long quest and discovering the next one. All Stan knew was the light hadn't come back on until the moment Bill Cipher, clad in a new body and a purple cartoon bedsheet, tried to cave Ford's skull in.

Ever since they were children, Ford had had a tendency to develop obsessions. It was somehow simultaneously both what made him most interesting and what made him boring. Depended on the obsession. But these all-consuming interests had always tended to last a few months, at most a year; and he'd never seemed to be without one, much less for nine months. Stan had no idea what carrying a single obsession for three decades might have done to Ford's mind.

Stan was glad something had woken Ford back up, and he worried that losing that focal point again might leave Ford permanently adrift. But another part of him worried that, this time, Ford wouldn't let the object of his obsession go. He tended to collect things related to his obsessions.

But then, he usually tended to like his obsessions. He hadn't seemed bothered to burn the contents of his creepy Bill shrine last summer. Ford wouldn't do anything stupid, Stan told himself. Ford hated Bill. "So? Were any of the spells traps?"

"Not... so far, no." Ford sounded irritated by this.

Stan shrugged. "Makes sense. He's trying to butter us up. If that idiot thinks being nice to us for a week or two is gonna make up for the years of grief he's given us—"

A loud rattle-clattering below made them both start. Stan sat bolt upright. "What the—?"

Ford inched to the edge of the dormer roof, knelt down, and leaned over the edge just far enough to see the window.

Bill's face was pressed to the glass, eye rolled up toward the roofline. He grinned in surprised delight and shouted through the glass, "HEY, STANFORD! What are you doing up here?! I thought you were downstairs!"

"Ugh." Ford turned to grimace at Stan. "Speak of the devil."

Bill pounded on the glass again. "Hey, Sixer! SIXER! Open the window!"

"Why?"

"I wanna talk!"

"No."

"Come ooon, the kids ditched me and I'm bored! There's no one in the house to talk to! The old lady's asleep and Stanley's on the roof, so—" He abruptly fell silent, squinting with deep suspicion at Ford-who-should-be-in-the-basement kneeling on the-roof-where-Stan-should-be, and said, "Wait. Are you Stanley right now? Show me your hand."

Ford did not. "Go away, Bill." He left the edge of the roof for his cooler seat.

"Get back here!" The pounding redoubled. "I don't care which Stan you are! If you don't wanna talk, I can always go wake up Dolores!"

Ford looked at Stan. "Mrs. Ramirez's name is Dolores?" He had gotten used to everyone calling her Abuelita.

Stan stomped on the roof, "Shaddup!"

Bill did not shaddup. "Come ooon!"

Stan sighed in defeat and heaved himself to his feet. "If he keeps that racket up he's gonna break that window, never mind that hex you put on him." When they'd taken out the original Bill-shaped window, Stan had replaced it with the cheapest window he could find. He didn't think it was very durable. "How much trouble can he get in with one open window twenty feet above the ground and both of us watching him?"

Ford Frowned.

"Don't gimme that look. Do you want to pay for a broken window?" Stan flipped through his keys for his key-shaped emergency lock pick, leaned over the edge of the roof, and wedged the pick into the window frame. The latch popped open. Lucky this window was so cheap, that wouldn't have worked on one with deluxe features like "airtight weatherstripping" or "a properly-fitting frame." Stan swung open the window. "Okay, you have our attention. Now what's the fastest way we can get rid of you?"

Bill clumsily climbed out to sit on the windowsill with his legs in the shack, and leaned back so he could see up onto the roof. "Hiya Fo—" He lost his balance, flailed, and yelped as he toppled backwards.

Stan and Ford lunged forward to seize an arm each. Stan snapped, "What are you doing, you maniac?!"

Bill stared up at them both in wide-eyed amazement. "You do like me."

Stan made a noise of disgust, let go, and wiped his hands on his pants like Bill had cooties.

Ford said, "We like you trapped in that body and not free to cause the apocalypse."

"I heard 'we like you'!"

"Shut up." Ford managed to haul Bill back upright. (Touching Bill felt wrong—all soft flesh and skin and the suggestion of bones underneath. Even when looking right at Bill's human body, Ford still expected him to feel like heavy shadows and heatless flames.) From this close, Bill reeked of cider. "Just how much have you had to drink?"

"Not so much I won't remember whatever you say in the morning, so be nice to me!" Bill laughed. He leaned back, this time hanging by one hand off the window frame to precariously maintain his balance, and grinned up at Ford. "So! The least fun person in the house has finally emerged from his lair? And you didn't even come into the house to join in the Summerween festivities! 'All work and no play'..."

Ford had to crouch at the edge of the roof, hovering nearby in case Bill lost his balance again. "I wanted to participate in Summerween, actually. It just so happens that the last person I'd ever spend a holiday with is in the house."

"Listen, Stanford. I know you're holing up in your study for days on end just to hurt me. But let's be honest, you're hurting yourself more! When's the last time you saw the sunlight! Look at how pale you're getting, you look like a vampire."

Stiffly, Ford said, "It's costume makeup. That's my vampire costume." Stan laughed.

"It what." Bill flipped up his eyepatch and squinted blearily at Ford's face.

Wordlessly, Ford bared his teeth to show off his plastic vampire teeth.

"Oh." Somewhat deflated, Bill said, "Nice work, it's convincing."

"Thanks," Ford said grudgingly. Giving in to his curiosity, he gestured toward Bill's (somewhat disheveled) reddish-yellow wig. "What are you."

"Oh!" Bill perked back up. "You've got to see the whole thing. Hold on—" He turned around in the window, ignoring how Ford half reached for him in case he needed steadying, until he got his legs outside to dangle on the roof. "What do you think!"

Ford looked over the brown toga flared out like a cone, the eruption of red hair, the small paper city below, and said, "Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii? Very clever."

Bill's face lit up. "Finally! You're the first person all day to get it!" He smoothed out the skirt proudly, his jerky gestures just a bit more exaggerated than usual. "Do you know how long I've wanted to go to a costume party as Vesuvius? But nobody off Earth would get it! And now that I'm finally here, I can't go to parties and I'm shaped more like a mandrake than a volcano." He flung up his hands, wobbled, and caught himself before Ford had to intervene. "But at least you got it. I knew I could count on you, IQ."

He sounded so sincerely grateful. Ford regretted calling the costume clever. It was, but Bill didn't need the ego boost.

"Oh! By the by—I didn't think you'd emerge before the day was over, so I saved this." Bill fished around in his toga until he retrieved a mini pack of jelly beans. "Here!"

Ford eyed the pack. "Why is it open?"

"Because you only like the weird-shaped jelly beans, so I ate all the normal beans and saved the weird ones in one bag."

"I don't want this. You touched every one of the beans, that would be disgusting even if they weren't coming from you," Ford said. "Anyway, this is a patently transparent attempt to buy your way into my good favor—"

"It sure is, Ford, and if you don't accept it I'll get to be annoying about your ingratitude for weeks! Is that what you want? You know I'll do it. Everyone will be on my side—"

Ford sighed, but snatched the bag from Bill's hand. "Fine. Now drop it."

"That's more like it!" Bill favored Ford with an approving smile. "Anyway, it's just about the only candy left in the house, I ate everything else—hey, have you ever been cross faded on cider and a sugar rush?"

Ford was still trying to decide whether he wanted to engage in this one-sided conversation enough to ask Bill what "cross faded" meant when Bill moved on without him: "It's—not that interesting, actually. 6 out of 10. Anyway, all that's left in the bowl is mints and wrappers. And Mabel even managed to give most of the mints away—hey, she's so nice, did you know she's helping to resurrect the Summerween Trickster?"

She was doing what? "No. Why?"

"She's so nice."

"You just said that."

"What is she so nice for. What's she getting out of it," Bill asked, more to the universe at large than to Ford. "If more humans were half as nice to freaks as she is, your rotten planet wouldn't need people like you and me to save it."

Ford didn't even know where to begin with that. He looked to Stan for help.

Stan was sitting straddling his lounger, elbow on one knee and chin in his hand, watching this exchange like he was watching a weird bug on the wall try to navigate around a picture frame. At Ford's glance, he rolled his eyes and pantomimed sipping from a drink.

He could say that again. Ford cleared his throat. "Bill, maybe you should..."

"Hey," Bill said. "Great talk, we really should catch up more sometime. And pull your weight next time, I always have to do all the talking. But right now, I'm..." He gestured vaguely off to the side. "I'm gonna lie down and try not to throw up. Ciao!" He swayed as he tried to get back in the window, tumbled backward into the shack, and thudded heavily on the floor. "Ow."

Ford gingerly shut the window.

Stan turned up the boombox. "Chatty drunk, isn't he."

"He's chatty sober, too." But in front of the kids? Neither of them saw Bill as a role model, but they still didn't need to be exposed to that kind of behavior. Especially when the responsible adults were outside or asleep... "Did we really leave Bill alone in the house with the kids?"

"W—I—" Stan shrugged defensively. "They were all right! They can take him! They're doing karate or whatever! You didn't see how Mabel flipped him at the mall! It was like David wrestling Goliath."

"David and Goliath didn't wrestle."

"You know what I mean."

Ford supposed he didn't think Bill was any threat to the children. At least, not right now, and not physically. He felt like he'd know if Bill was about to try anything.

He looked at his open bag of gross felt-up jelly beans. Speaking of trying to butter them up... Ford wound up and chucked the bag as hard as he could.

He stared into the dark after it.

A small part of him was beginning to wonder whether this wasn't all just an attempt to get Ford's guard down. The gifts, sure, that was as clear-cut a case of bribery as you could get. Nothing ambiguous there.

But the endless chatter... Back when Ford had called Bill his Muse, this was exactly how he'd wanted Bill to talk to him. Not in the flighty half-distracted way of a friendly businessman catching up on a work project's progress before hurrying on to the next meeting; but just talking for talking's sake, talking for the company.

Getting what he once had longed for made his skin crawl. And he couldn't even tell if Bill was acting.

The boombox let out a ghastly banshee shriek. Ford and Stan both jumped, then laughed awkwardly.

Ford sat on the cooler again. "Is it just me, or... did Bill completely ignore you as soon as he realized I was up here."

"Well. I wasn't gonna mention it. I didn't wanna sound jealous of the attention. But yeah—he's been doing that since he got here. If you're in the room, he tunes everyone else out."

"I thought it was in my head." And he hadn't wanted to sound like he wanted to imagine Bill was favoring him.

"And you do the same thing around him," Stan said, and laughed at Ford's flinch of alarm. "It's—it's fine, I get it. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right? You've got some kind of superhero-supervillain nemesis thing."

Ford got the distinct impression that Stan was offering him a convenient excuse for the tunnel vision. He took it. "I suppose that's true." The way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed around Bill certainly felt like a "nemesis" reaction.

But if Stan thought Ford was a bit too preoccupied by Bill... well, maybe he was right. Once Ford had gotten over his initial wave of fear, of despair, of outrage at the injustice, at finding Bill was still alive—there was a part of him that was almost relieved. A part of him that had been on guard against nothing for the past year, twisting around looking for an absent threat. Now that it knew where the threat was, that part of him could finally settle down and watch Bill with steady, certain eyes. Having nothing to worry about made him more anxious than having one thing to always worry about.

(Maybe Shermie's kid had been on to something when he suggested Ford might benefit from therapy.)

Knowing Bill was back didn't put the old starlight and awe back in that hole Bill had left in Ford's chest. But dread could fill a hole all the same.

Ford tried to push Bill out of his mind and the conversation. "You think I'm like a superhero?"

"You run around fighting monsters with a space laser. What else would you be?"

"Huh." Well. That made his night.

"Just as long as you don't pull that 'hero spares the villain to show how good he is' shtick."

"Never." Ford laughed ruefully. "I think I left 'good' behind a few felonies back." He'd probably left "good" behind the night he accepted the portal blueprints.

"Couple stragglers," Stan said, nodding out into the dark. It took Ford a moment to spot the costumed kids and remember it was Summerween. "I recognize those costumes, I scared them off an hour ago. What are they doing back?"

Ford squinted at them. "Are those toilet paper rolls?"

"Wh—Hey! What are you little runts— Hey!" Stan leaped to his feet, shaking his fist at the kids below. "Get away from my car! Stop that! I'll have you know that's a classic— No, not the eggs!"

Ford slid out his freeze ray, turned down the power, and offered it to Stan. "Here. At this power and distance, it'll feel like getting pelted with invisible snowballs."

Stan snatched up the weapon. "Eat this, twerps!"

The Summerween night air was filled with the screams of terrified children and the evil laughter of an old man.

####

Wow. It sure sounded like everybody was having fun. Outside. Without him.

Bill was nauseous.

He stared at the spinning ceiling, flat on his back, one leg on a cushion and the rest of him on the floor.

Bill was nauseous and alone. The loneliness tore at his throat. Even Mabel had ditched him. Of course she did—he'd tried to kill her. He'd barely even remembered he'd tried to kill her until she brought it up. Had he tried to kill her? No, surely not—he liked the kid, he'd always liked her—he'd been faking to force Ford's hand, he never would have gone through with it. He would've teleported her into another room and pretended he'd disintegrated her. She didn't know he hadn't meant it. She was just mad he'd scared her. She couldn't take a joke.

But, Ford talked to him. Ford even liked his costume. It wasn't much, but it would get Bill through the night.

When he saw Kryptos again—when, not if—he was slicing him into a jigsaw puzzle for not taking Bill's call. The nerve of that guy, hanging up on a human without even waiting a few words to see if they had anything interesting to say.

(What if it hadn't been an accident, he wondered? What if Kryptos had realized it was Bill and still hung up?)

(No. Of course it was an accident.)

He shut his eyes. He was probably too drunk to dream tonight. Well, he could try again tomorrow. His little lucid dreaming guide was currently teaching him to influence the next night's dream by focusing on a topic before sleep. Maybe tomorrow he could dream about the Nightmare Realm.

He missed home.

####

(Congratulations to the approximately 50% of respondents who correctly figured out Bill's costume when I posted the art on Halloween, you're officially smarter than everybody in Gravity Falls except Ford. This is one of those chapters with a whole lot going on so if you enjoyed, I'd love to hear your comments!!)

#(tbh that's the best Mabel & Dipper I've ever drawn)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #dipper pines #(for both the art & fic)#grunkle ford #grunkle stan #(for just the fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my writing #my art #fanart #bill goldilocks cipher

197 notes · View notes

futureplayboibunnie · 11 months

Text

Strong Enough

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

18+ MDNI (y’all pls this is filthy)

- GIGGLING. KICKING MY FEET. i came back from spiderverse with JUST THIS MAN ON MY MIND. oscar isaac ur service is appreciated cause gah dayum.

- i had to write some super angsty smut abt him. i just had to, he’s so lana del rey vinylllll. i’m sorry if my spanish is crap (i had to use google translate bc my stupid ass took german instead of spanish in school- pls tell me if there were any mistakes. kiss kiss x)

warnings: dom!miguel, pnv, lotsa dirty talk (think i got carried away), angsty miguel, FANGS, sort of a soft end. AGGHH IM SO CRAZY ABOUT HIM WHAT THE FUCK.

enjoy bbygirls x

Miguel was furious as usual, his blood was beating like a drum with it, his mind buzzing akin to white noise. New anomalies, new foes but mostly a pesky kid who didn't know how to stay put and shut the fuck up- Miles Morales. He was seething- his eyes glowing a crimson hue violently assaulting against the hazel of his eyes. He looked like shit. Hell, he felt like shit. He was slipping, letting things get in the way, and he blamed you for it. Miguel doesn't slip. Miguel doesn't let things get in the way. Only until you came into his life and veered him off his intended course.

It was his hegemonic masculinity piping up like a hot breath down his neck. Miguel brought together the spider society- he was the solution to every problem, every anomaly, the answer to every spider. But he doesn't answer to himself. No, he didn't. You were the one that was overseeing Miguel's little society, hiding and checking in from time to time if the multiverse wasn't fucked up and every dimension was in a semi-stable state. Miguel was in control of the other spiders, he had to run his orders by you first even if you weren't at HQ half of the time. Being in a subservient position was exorbitantly and intensely frustrating and it made him highly hostile to anyone who talked to him.

You on the other hand had the jurisdiction to give him the authority- you gave him the damn idea, you were from his damn universe, but you couldn't deal with the politics and moral dilemmas that came with leading it. Also, you enjoyed toying with him. Fuck you found so much satisfaction in crawling through him, blowing at that over-inflated ego, those broad shoulders filled to the brim with hubris and pride. Hm, he was good at what he did though- actively scaring off anyone who dared speak against him. Except for Morales. You appreciated his pluck, it reminded you of yourself. Miguel was formidable but you understood why he needed to apprehend Morales- for some reason every time you were near the kid you started glitching out, it fucking hurt and messed with your brainwaves. You understood why he had to capture Miles but you didn't agree with how he was handling it. Miguel was sitting at his desk trying to figure out why this was happening and why this was happening to you but he came up empty. He didn't know what to think about it let alone do. It made him feel uneasy and he hated it. Cómo pedo solucionar esto? (How do I fix this?) kept looping throughout his head and it made him feel helpless and weak. Two words he would never associate with himself.

‘’Miguel.’’ Your voice echoed off the walls and shot straight to his ears, it was smoky and breathy.

"Y/N. Qué estás haciendo aquí? What do you want?’’ His usual low timbre makes your brows furrow involuntarily. ‘’Get out of the shadows.’’ He ordered and for once you listened to him, hopping on his platform behind him.

‘’Morales.’’ You stated deadpan knowing the reaction he was going to get, Miguel's eyes drastically narrowed and changed from a soft ambient scarlet to a scorching blood red. He turned his face a little to the side to glare at you.

"That kid touches anything in another dimension, I'll kill him myself.’’ He replied huskily. You weren't sure if you could trust his words. Yes, he was capable of it but you know deep down he wouldn't want to.

His moral compass strayed once, he won't let that happen again. Never.

"You wanna kill kids now? Is that how low we're going?'’

'We? There's we now?’’

You cocked your head at his question, your face remaining hard.

He stared at you in silent fury, of course he wouldn't want to resort to that but he had to do what he had to do. Miguel was surprised you didn't want to take him yourself considering he makes you glitch out. He hates you, God he hates you. But what happened to you...scared him. You'd been a part of this for so long, if anyone was going to hurt you it would be him- not anyone else. If anyone else did- Miguel dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Sometimes when he looked at you, he couldn't help but admire your callousness, your brutality yet your undying generosity to people who didn't deserve such a royalty. On the other hand, you were fucking gorgeous. He hated it. It was distracting. It was cruel. Though he couldn't help a little blip or mishap with his thought process- he was still a man after all. Miguel wondered what was under that suit. Wondered what you would like with nothing on at all. Wondered if you would still talk back with that snotty little attitude if you were choking on his dick instead. Though he wouldn't trust you not to bite his dick off in the process. Would you like his fangs? Would you like his claws? He shouldn’t be thinking such a thing.

‘’I should ask you the same question since he affects your stability también.’’ He replied calmly, slightly shocking you. ‘’No matter, I'll stop it. Alone.’’ He growled as he stepped off the platform, tired of entertaining this conversation with you. ‘’You've done enough damage as it is, now I have to fix it.’’

‘’I caused this damage? You realize how fucking stupid you sound. You control the spiders, I let you make orders.’’ You strike a harsh tone as you jolted in front of him to stop his path. Shit, he towered above you, all broad shoulders and disheveled hair. Although he undermined you like this, you wouldn't mind it in other situations...but at work, he was quite literally a piece of work and it made your blood boil. You both knew, you both could feel the palpable hatred swinging and beating again. ‘’And alone? I don't trust you not to kill him, Miguel.’’ You scowled, your eyes wide and piercing through him, halting him in his tracks. The gaze shared between you both was impenetrable, scorching, a battle against wills.

‘’I can't let you.’’ He shot back with a frown and grating red eyes.

‘’While I watch helplessly from the sidelines? I don’t think so. ’’ You challenged him white cold.

‘’I'm asking you, don't let me make you.’’ He gritted through clenched teeth, his fangs lightly protruding.

He was trying to scare you, it wasn't working.

‘’What is this to you? Playtime? To prove you're the strongest, to create fear wherever you go?’’ You pleaded with him orotund, inviting a yelling match to prove you weren't going down easy on this occasion.

You let Miguel do whatever he damn pleased like this was his own hunting grounds- but you won't let him lose his sanity.

‘’What? No.’’He replied shocked and confused at your presumed reasons why he was doing this. He just had to. He couldn't tell you the deep-rooted reason.

He didn't want to admit it.

Fuck, he couldn't admit it.

What kind of man would that make him?

What kind of leader? What kind of example would he be?

‘’Then what is it-?’’ He was trying to walk away from you but you snaggled onto his suit and brought him back to face you. ‘’Tell me.’’ You ordered stiffly.

‘’I have to do this alone.’’ His voice faltered a little and he was afraid that you might have heard it, that he gave you a glaring view of how quickly he was slipping through the cracks- how weak you've made him, how weak he was becoming.

‘’Why? Why do you need to, Miguel?!’’ You were almost yelling at him and no one other than you would get the privilege of living if they did that.

‘’Stop it.’’ He grunted like a wild animal.

"Then what-? What is it?’’ Your eyes searched for his as he was avoiding looking at your face, terrified that it would be written all over it. His heart was pounding.

‘’I'm not-‘’

‘’Not what?’’ You implored, pushing him further and further to the edge.

‘’I'm not strong enough.’’

‘'Strong enough? Oh yeah, and going after a kid will make you stronger.’’ You chided, eyes stiff cold, and judgemental.

‘’Yes, fuck. I-. No!’’ Miguel raked an exasperated hand through his hair, his palm was twitching and his talons were ready to come out. If only he could make you understand without telling you- but you were insatiable, a tick under his skin. Ready for another fucking fight.

Your eyebrows wilted as you said the words, so unbelievably paralyzed by his gall, his hubris, his never-ending need to prove he's the strongest, that he could do all of this. You knew he fucking could. ‘’That's what this is, some sort of bench press exercise for you? Some sort of work-out?!’’ Miguel grabbed you by the arms and his talons pinched at your skin through his suit, like he was trying to shake some sense into you.

‘’I can't lose you again!’’ He yelled at you, his face merely inches away from yours.

Your mouth popped open at his frazzled admission of honesty, his glowing red eyes faded as he stared at you, hoping for an answer he was sure you wouldn't give him. Miguel's harsh expression was lost with the wind when he hung his head to avoid that fucking look in your eyes. The one that made all the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders all the more fucking heavier, his hands raked down your arms as if he was soothing himself, and his breath became heavier as he closed his eyes to process the words he uttered. You glitching out every time Miles was near you is not an option he was willing to entertain: it was his job to worry about anomalies and canon events but on this occasion- he didn't. And he was admitting that to you.

It's not the fact that he's dangerous or an anomaly. It's because of you.

What kind of selfish would that make him?

Last time that happened he lost everything.

He would never make the same mistake again.

But look at him now.

Making the same mistake.

‘’I can't lose you. No otra vez....I'm not str-I'm not strong enough.’’ His head hung low as if the weight of the universe was saving him from completely falling apart.

You sighed in a mix of relief and pity. This is what it was all about? Pobre cosa (poor thing). Your eyes were wide with a magnetic pulse and your body was radiating a mesmeric need. He felt it. Your hands flew to his chest and slowly meandered to his broad shoulders, he was panting in exhaustion and regret but your fingers went to his chin and jutted it upwards so your longing stare could meet his. It was a scorching look between two tired and exhausted people. Miguel was working himself so hard and you just wanted to make him forget about it, just once.

‘’Miguel…’’

‘’Ahora me he dado cuenta de que no puedo hacer nada de esto sin ti.’’ (I've now come to realize that I can't do any of this without you). Miguel's eyes flitted to your lips, his voice low and husky...needy. ‘’But I'm a selfish man... y te necesito.’’ (and I need you). Your face looked blank, it's obvious you didn't understand a word he was saying. ‘’Whatever, you wouldn't understand what I'm saying anyway.’’ Miguel dismissed you as he let go of your embrace and attempted to head out.

Before he could move away too far, you exposed your wrist and webbed him, dragging him back to you. His eyes glinted with a surprise yet they were dark with need and arrogance. Miguel was in front of you and your pussy started throbbing. His senses went into overdrive and he couldn't hold back his will to not touch you anymore.

‘'He entendido cada palabra que me has dicho.’’ (I've understood every word you've ever said to me.)

He gripped your face and kissed you hard, it was furious and mean, and he tasted dangerous- just as you expected, just as you had been silently begging him to. Lord, you were sure you'd regret this but right now your body was alive. Miguel's massive hands pulled at your hair to open your mouth wider

'’Miguel...féllame, por favor.’’ (fuck me, please) you uttered breathlessly, his mouth traveling from your bottom lip, chin, and then neck. His lips then went to breathe raggedly in your ear.

‘’You've understood everything I've ever said under my breath about you?’’ He murmured, imploring you to make him understand. He thought he had the privilege of saying things secretly as no one understood his Spanish but him, so he could say things he didn't want to keep inside without anyone else knowing. But you pulled the rug out from under him, you've been fooling him. He hated it. The number of times he's mumbled how much he wanted you under his breath- fuck.

‘’Mhm.’’ You moaned as his hands flew to your hips and slammed you down on his desk with no finesse, planting himself between your soft thighs. ‘’I thought you would've caught me earlier than this chico.’’ You teased- the thought made him angry. His talons seeped out of his skin and ripped at your suit, exposing the bare skin of your waist.

‘’Y me he dado cuenta de lo mojada que te pones cuando estás cerca de mí.’’ (And I've noticed how wet you get when you're near me) The filthy words rolled off of his tongue like velvet. ‘’Don't think you have the upper hand here sweetheart.’’

‘’Even when I want you to fuck me, you still have to fucking argue with me.’’ You growled as your hands burrowed into his long raven hair

‘’Oh, but you like it this way.’’ He smirked in your ear, the cadence of his voice reducing your knees to that of fucking jelly.

"How do you know what I like? You never asked.’’ You flirted back, treading on dangerous waters with the man that is known for having paper-thin patience.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ Miguel clawed at your waist and then spun you around so the tops of your thighs were. digging into the translucent glass of his desk. All of a sudden, he placed his large palm just below your neck and shoved you flat onto the desk just with brute force. You were sure you were about to start salivating.

‘’Oh, mierda.’’ He breathed raggedly, his wandering hands ripping at your suit. ‘’Beautiful, dangerous, deadly. Pretending as if you're better than me... like you're not capable of killing.’’ He ripped at your suit some more, exposing more of your skin. Your breath trembled in anticipation as he bent down to whisper hotly in your ear, your ass already feeling his strong- oh. Shit. ‘’You drive my fucking crazy, you know that?’’ He ripped your suit until it was nothing but scraps. You were naked and desperate under him.

‘’Me vuelves loco.’’ (You make me insane).

‘’Stop fucking talking and just take me, Miguel.’’ You whined desperately as your cheek pressed coldly against the glass, your hair splaying all over your shoulders like a waterfall.

‘’Abre la boca.’’ (Open your mouth) He growled like an animal but you were too concerned with your wobbly legs and fraying patience, you replied with a stunned silence, almost jittering like a fool. A frown contorted on Miguel's perfect face, scrunching up his chiseled, picturesque features. His right hand gripped your hair pulling you up to him, his left hand brushed against your lips until he fully force-plunged two fingers in your mouth- saliva coating his fingers as you gagged and choked. Oh, he couldn't wait to get you on your knees- the thought provoked some visceral reaction within him.

‘’'That's it, good girl.’’ He grumbled the affirmation and it sent sparks shooting throughout your body.

Miguel rarely ever praised or complimented so this....fuck. ...this was different, you felt so damn special to him. The ever-so-broody Miguel O'Hara calling you a 'good girl' made an unstoppable moan rip through your throat. ‘’Oh, so you like to be loud? Seems like you can't shut up when you're getting fucked too.’’ He insulted adding insult to injury which just made you sweat.

‘’Is the venom from your fangs rushing straight to your head, Miguel? Or did you not hear what I said?’’ You spat with a distinct sharpness that he'd come to expect from you, he was glad to see he hadn't scared the personality out of you which he had the tendency to do to every single person he met. However, one thing he absolutely couldn't tolerate was backtalking- which you had a tendency to get away with most times but he thought this was the perfect situation to reinstate his rules. Miguel tugged on your hair again like his own personal leash.

‘’Puede que quiera joderte ahora mismo, pero no pienses ni por un segundo que no te haré sufrir en el proceso.’’ (I may want to fuck the shit out of you right now but don't think for a second that I won't make you suffer in the process) His voice was aggressive and heady and you were stiff with arousal, your pussy was aching for him.

‘’Por favor Miguel.’’ You begged softly and it made his gaze narrow and his fangs spike out of his gums.

At times like this, he was glad he had a suit that would come on and off as he pleased- right now he was sweating with need and he was thankful he was able to quickly rid of his suit. Miguel didn't think he would be this hard, but then again you did always have a knack for surprising him when he least expected it. His large palm smacked at your ass and he was happy to see a large indent of the outline he made. Like he had a claim on you.

‘’Miguel!’’ You whined like a bitch in heat.

He didn't listen to your plead, he didn't even tease you into it first, his rigid dick just slipped into your soaking wet heat and he'd never felt this pleasure...ever. You were seriously about to cry. He wanted you to. Your pussy molded around his dick, and you were afraid he wasn't even going to fit- but Miguel always finds a way. He felt so...fucking good. The dull ache inside of your stomach was twisting into a fit of knots and butterflies, he quite literally pulsated inside of you

"Tan apretado cariño.’’ (So tight sweetheart) Miguel's chest rumbled alongside his dirty words. Fucking hell, it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. He started rutting into you with abandon, without mercy.

You felt so good. He was so.. good...at this, as much as you hated to admit it. He kept pawing at your body, his talons creating the animalistic tension that much heavier between you.

‘’Mi vida...’’ He purred in your ear, going harder and faster with every pained moan that ripped through your throat like it was an incentive for him to keep going.

‘’So perfect for me. Squeezing me so well...Mierda.’’

‘’You want me?’’ You teased innocently as you twisted your head to look at him through doe eyes. His eyes were roaring red as his grip on your hips seeped into your skin harder.

‘’You know I do.’’ Miguel gritted through clenched teeth, baring his fangs. The sight just made you wetter. ‘’Let me show you how much.’’ He bent down and it felt like he was going to snap you in half, you were so close to reaching your peak. To add insult to injury, he bit down on the skin of your bare shoulder blade and blood dripped from his fangs when he pulled away- your moan in response was that of perfection. Fuck it hurt but it felt amazing.

‘’It's okay, mi vida, come for me. I won't tell.’’ Miguel cooed, showing a tender side to him as he kissed down your shoulder blade to your back. You obeyed his command and came onto him- violently, so fucking hard. A guttural groan rumbled from his chest and your honeyed pants brought him back to life- a cause and effect. He fucked you through your orgasm and allowed himself the privilege of finishing inside you.

Miguel pulled out of you, leaking against the back of your thigh in the process. The scene was filthy, completely obscene and you never thought this would actually happen. ‘’Stay still princesa.’’ He commanded and you actually listened to him. The pressure of Miguel's body left you exposed as your ears pricked up to hear a rustle of draws and a clattering of things behind you. You turned your head around and his hologram suit was back on, it hugged him so fucking tightly your knees were starting to shake again.

You felt his presence again as you felt a cloth clean up the leaks down your thighs. ‘’Muchas gracias, Miguel.’’ Smartass. You flirted and he just smirked back at you, helping you stand up straight and face him when he got you cleaned up. You gazed up at him, quite chipper if you were being completely honest. Maybe a good hard fucking from his was all you needed to straighten you out. His eyes were still greedy as they raked up and down your naked body.

‘’As much as I prefer you like this...here.’’ A hologram covered you and your suit was back on, fine lines and all- well, that's easier than what you have to go through every day to get it sitting nicely.

You gazed at the scraps of your suit that were on the floor. Jesus Christ, he fucked like an animal.

"Nice to know chivalry isn't dead.' You tiptoed so you could get closer to his face and kissed his cheek. ‘’Thanks for the fuck, Miguel. Also by the way, I'm still not letting you kill that kid.’’ You patted his shoulder sarcastically- toying with him even further. You just walked away from him and his platform, you left him in a stunned silence and a blank expression, he scoffed breathlessly as he turned around to see you saunter away so damn confidently.

‘’Princesa no tan rapida.’’ (Not so fast princess) He replied back with a broken half smile. He suddenly exposed his wrist and a web flew to your waist and he instantaneously pulled you back in front of him. The breathless expression on your face was something that needed to be showcased in galleries.

‘’Can't lose me again? Object permanence is a thing you know torombolo.’’ You joked and his brows furrowed slightly in response, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

‘’Don't joke about that mi vida.’’ Miguel's face had a sheen of concern and it made your stomach twist into butterflies. ‘’You could die.’’ His voice came across as more stern than intended but you didn't back away like anyone else would do- you accepted him for who he was.

‘’Oh, Miguel...Please, we'll figure it out. But that kid you're after is probably scared and alone- just like you were, just like I was and I don't want that to swallow him.’’

‘’But every time-‘’ You pressed your pointer finger to stop his lips from moving.

"Shush. I've always trusted you, Miguel, now I don't even think there's a point in me being your higher-up. If we work together, you don't have to be afraid.’’ You caressed his face tenderly and he got lost in the softness of your words and your ever so guileless eyes.

‘’Okay?’’ Miguel turned his head to kiss at your palm as an affirmation.

‘’Okay.’’

#miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel ohara smut #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara angst #spiderverse x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse

478 notes · View notes

nyxyxx · 4 months

Text

Godly Desires - Part 5

Disappeared for a while for holidays and stuff. Happy New Year folks. This chapter is quite short but the good parts come next so that's exciting. (Also with a little bit of lore hehe). I. II. III. IV. V. Warning: This series will contain yandere content and religious themes.

"The City of Wind"

In the woods, stirring from its ancient slumber was a darkness so wicked and vicious, the very life that surrounded it began to wither and decay, rotting away from its presence alone. This darkness, it had a mind of its own, yet had no name to accompany it. Perhaps it once had a name, but said name has been long lost in the archaic oceans of time. Sunk deep within the waters of the world, lived a name so egregious, that uttering it would only bring about misfortune.

There was a prophecy to be told about this darkness. An ancient prophecy, one that was older than the gods themself. A legend told from within the land, an old story that was soon to be unearthed. Though this story would very soon present itself, discovered in the depths of the sea, now is not the time.

"It is the calm before the storm, my love."

"Stop right there!" A young girl emerged from the trees and promptly ran towards you. Dressed in red, white and brown, alongside the pyro vision at her hip, it was the ever-so recognizable Outrider Amber. She stood in front of you, with an air of justice and gentleness. "May the anemo God protect you, stranger!" She announced, suspiciously gazing over your strangely dressed self. "I am Outrider Amber, of the knights of favonius, and who are you?"

"Oh uh...I'm [___]"

Amber simply stared at you in silence, looking a lot different than her typical self. Almost like she was thinking really hard about something, but also staring at you. Noticing how weird she was being, she kinda just turned away from you, her ears tinted a little pinkish.

...

There was somewhat of an awkward silence following. You gave her a fake name, as Diluc had mentioned it may be a good idea to do so, though you found it to be quite strange. Still, this was just way too awkward. Why wasn't she responding? Did you already do something wrong?

"Oh um...right. Where was I..." Amber snapped back into her usual persona, and thus you carefully explained your situation to her, keeping a few things hidden, but otherwise being truthful. She seemed to relax after a while of talking to her, even opening up a little bit.

"If you'd like, I can take you to the city, there have been lots of monsters in the area recently." She said, a little bit shy. It was uncalled for, but since she was offering you her company, you accepted happily.

Reaching the gates of the city, you glanced up at the sky. Though you had seen Mondstadt many times it looked so much more beautiful in person. Maybe your dream just had such great detail to it. Amber hastily showed you around, though it was mostly unneeded, as the entire city felt so familiar, to you. She quickly mentioned that she had to get back to work, and hoped that you had a good time while you remained in Mondstadt.

You couldn't help but shake the feeling that there was something that you were missing. Some important reason that you had to come here. Like you had been sent here for some purpose that you can't quite remember. You tried really hard to think of what that could've been, but attempting to do only led to your head hurting.

Well, you were here anyways. You might as well try and find something fun to do. So, swallowing those strange feelings, you decided to try someplace that might be interesting. The local tavern, perhaps.

Taglist: @justyoureader; @mmeatt; @iamapotatoe; @clavichordcleffa; @yu-ulda; @c3rtifiedsimp; @eravariety; @vianitry; @dulcedelechenginamo; @reveihehe; @liansh3ng; @angelofdarkness2; @yarabutterfly;

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau cult au #genshin cult au #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #cw yandere #sagau #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact

159 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 8 months

Text

My Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

This is a part 2 to My Sunshine. You'll need to read that one first for context. Tumblr link - AO3 link

I play with the headcanon that white is not Astarion's natural hair color. The general consensus was dark, possibly black hair, and brown or hazel eyes. Check out the post I got this hc from here!

I don't know if there'll be another part to this. School is kicking my ass rn

Beta read by @big-armed-mar Thank you again <333

Warnings: graphic descriptions of drinking blood from rats, grief over past friendship, anxiety and nausea mentions, descriptions of blood, drinking blood, hurt/comfort, some fluff

Word Count: 1,596

Masterlist

AO3

Astarion was cagey around you. He played nice, of course. Polite smiles, and violent tendencies disguised as friendly advice. Maybe, with his facade of sweetness, he thought you wouldn’t notice the way he stayed toward the back of the group, or set up his tent just a little further from the fire.

Part of you wishes for the simple way things were, before all this. Side by side in front of a fire, drinking wine and sketching him while he reads to you, with the sorrow of parting for the day sweetened by a kiss on your foreheads. It was so simple, then. So easy and carefree. You were young! You had the whole world ahead of you! And then…

And then he died. And so too did those times.

Maybe they came back with him, came a stray thought. It hurt to dismiss it. Those times would not be coming back soon, if they ever did.

You’re too scared to ask to draw him. The fear of being rejected outweighs the possible rewards. So at night, when everyone has settled and everything is quiet, you sit away from everyone else, you pull out your journal, and you sketch. Seeing him again has refreshed the image in your mind. It is much easier now to put a face to the sketches. You’re never happy with them - his eyes are off somehow; his mouth doesn’t hold the right expression - but you refuse to stop your tradition now.

There are little differences, you’ve noticed, from the old drawings to the newer ones. Aside from the obvious of your style and confidence improving throughout the years, there were details then that didn’t exist now.

His hair before was shaded dark, with simple highlights indicating where the light was coming from. Now, his hair was mostly white space, lightly shaded to give it volume. It had been so long - was his hair darker back then? It was hard to picture him with anything darker than his now bright-white curls, and yet…

His eyes were also different. They were still dark, but in a different way. You’ve picked up numerous ways to give off the impression of specific colors over the years - blue and green were intricate displays of mid to light tones, hazel mixed dark and medium tones, brown were deep with little-to-no variation in shading. The old sketches had his eyes closer to brown than your current ones, that mixed deep shading with lighter tones to portray their deep crimson.

Had you really forgotten so quickly what he looked like…? Your best friend?

After his death, you’d taken up sleeping. It had provided an escape, however temporary. Now, though, you didn’t want the Astarion in your dreams to hold you and comfort you - you wanted the real one to. It hurt to see one so warm and welcoming and the other so distant and reserved.

Tonight was no different. Anxiety swelled in your chest. Nausea poked at your stomach. You’re on edge, like a deer that knows it’s being stalked. Dreams and reality faded in and out, taking their turns. In one, Astarion walked beside you, playfully bumping into your shoulder as you made your way through Baldur’s Gate. In the other, Astarion leaned over you, teeth bared.

When he sees your eyes open, half-lidded, tired eyes staring up at him in a daze, he immediately backs away, caught red handed. He stands with hands outstretched to show he was unarmed and harmless. Well, mostly harmless. He’s shocked when all you do is sit up on your bedroll.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!”

You raise an eyebrow.

He stammers as he tries to explain himself. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed - well, blood.”

The firelight is dim, but the moon lights him up clearly. You see him, now. Pointed canines and two scarred punctures on his neck, with hollow cheeks and too-pale skin. “You’re… a vampire.” He bristles when you say it. “That’s how you’re alive.”

He barks out a mirthless, bitter laugh. “Undead, my dear,” he corrects. “But… yes.” He doesn’t let you get a word in before he launches into his next defense. “I was only going to have a nibble, I swear! I feed on animals, usually. Boars, deer, kobolds - whatever I can get. But it’s not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” He pauses for a moment, a pleading look on his face. “Please.” And you can’t tell if it’s genuine or not.

The tadpole behind your eyes wriggles. The sensation makes you shiver. You can feel hints of his mind touching yours. The hunger, the weakness. But it feels half-there. The worm says you can look deeper, know the truth behind it all. You want to ignore it, but your grief begs you to know.

You push into his mind, past the picked-out truths, to find the whole one. He’s startled by it, by you, but you can’t let this slip past your fingers. When his mind opens, you’re flooded with a barrage of memories and emotions. Fear, desperation, starvation, hatred - all surrounding a pair of dark eyes. They command him to feed, to drink from the rat squirming in his hands. You feel the gag at the back of your throat as his mouth becomes full of watery, rancid blood and fur. You can feel the rat still in his hands, drained to every last drop. It is all he will be given to eat. When you finally pull from his mind, Astarion’s face is full of disgust and hardship.

You swallow hard around the phantom feeling of wriggling in your mouth, urging it to leave. You can only imagine what it must have been like for him. It makes your heart ache.

“You ate animals because you were forced to,” you whisper. He can’t meet your eyes. “Not because you wanted to.”

“I-” He stopped. His voice became small. “Yes. Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. So you can see why I’m slow to trust you.” Maybe he sees the flicker of pain in your eyes. Maybe he corrects himself for his own benefit. You can’t tell. His protective facade is back in place once more. “But I do trust you. And you can trust me.”

“I do. I trust you.”

“Thank you.” He shifts around, hesitant to ask his next question. “Do you think you could trust me just a little further? I only need a taste, I swear.”

You nodded. “Of course, Astarion. You only needed to ask.”

His eyes widened. “Really? I - of course. I’ll avoid the slinking around next time,” he chuckles. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

You lay back once more. The stars are quickly hidden behind Astarion as he leans over you once more. His hands on either side of your head keep him over you. Like this, you feel small. A rabbit in the clutches of a wolf. But this is what you wanted after so long; to be close to him again.

His face softens. For a brief moment, it’s the face of the Astarion you once knew. Your heart rate spikes as he leans down, not toward your neck, but toward your forehead. A brush of a kiss, barely there at all. As he speaks, you can feel his lips moving along your skin and cold breaths of air.

“Thank you…” He sighs, finding the strength to say what was on his mind. You close your eyes, willing this moment to be implanted in your memories forever. “My dear moonlight.”

His lips brush against your neck. He can hear your heart racing, feel it just beneath your skin. Had you ever been this close before? Surely, you’d indulged in hugs and cuddling with him…right? His memory was so foggy. Trying to go back to those days hurt. But having this experience, right here, right now. He wishes he could lose himself in it.

And then there’s the frightening realization that you’re his first.

Before he can linger too long on how vulnerable that made him feel, he lined his teeth up, and bit down. You gasped in his ear. Blood rushed from the wound into his mouth. It was sweet. Sweeter than any rat or roach. And full-bodied like an exquisite wine. He wanted to drown in it - in you. Remain latched at your throat for another century, indulging and bloating himself on the saccharine ichor.

“Sunshine.”

It’s barely a whisper, but the softness of it pulls him from his feeding. He detaches his mouth from your neck and watches a few stray drops as they slide to the ground. Your face is relaxed; eyes closed and skin bathed in moonlight. Your hand detangles from his hair, and he wonders how long it had been there.

“Did I take too much?”

You shake your head and open your eyes, at last. They’re dulled and out of focus, lids fighting to close once more, but you look right at him. And you smile. “I’m okay.”

Tension leaves his shoulders. What had he been worried about?

He pushes himself up to his knees, and you roll over to face him. He thinks you might try starting a conversation, but all you do is get comfortable and give in to the exhaustion of blood loss.

“This is a gift, you know,” he says quietly. He’s not even sure if you can hear him. “I won’t forget it.”

253 notes · View notes

ihopeinevergetsoberr · 11 months

Text

Marry me again

Summary: You and Leon were forced to get a divorce two years ago due to his work constantly interfering with your marriage. However, despite the separation, the love between you both still runs deep. When you accidentally meet at a bar one late night, things quickly take an interesting turn.

CW: NSFW, Leon x Original Female Character, but technically still counts as Leon x Female Reader imo. Consensual Sex, Fingering, Vaginal sex.

WC: 11200~

i came up with the idea for this fic while roleplaying with a character ai bot. i would also like to warn you, that english is not my first language, so the fic might be written a little poorly to say the least lol. if you spot any mistakes (grammatical especially), any typos/misspelled words or if you have any advices for me in general: please let me know in the comments, i’ll be very happy with any criticism since this is my first fic in english. enjoy!

p.s. wrote this imagining leon from infinite darkness, i think he’s the best fit for this story.

She raised an eyebrow at the familiar low voice that echoed from behind her, the cigarette held firmly between her fingers. "Don't turn around, don't turn around, don't turn around," a mantra played on repeat in her mind, urging her to resist. Yet, she had already made up her mind. She knew, without a doubt, who it was. Despite everything that whispered against it, she defied the doubts. She pictured this happening too many times to just walk away.

Leon noticed the red polish on her nails and smirked. Apparently, such small details of her appearance, like this one, will forever remain unchanged. Even through the years. She turned around, her attentive eyes pierced right through him immediately, forcing his heart to skip a bit. She always had this "right into the soul" stare, he had to give her that.

It was their first encounter in two years outside the court. Their first encounter since the divorce.

"Hey," she whispered, a smile cracking across her face as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

His smile widened and a look of joy came over his face as he saw her, not quite able to hide the fact that he’d missed her. He then let out a breath and nodded at her. His eyes took in every detail, from her hair, to her nails, even to this small strand of hair out of its place.

“You look… fantastic, as always,” he told her, taking a few steps closer but still keeping a respectable distance.

She chuckled awkwardly at the statement, rolling her eyes at him. The wind caused that stupid strand of hair to stick to her cherry lip gloss, the same shade she used to wear when they were married. The same shade that used to stain white cups in their shared apartment, the collars of his shirts, and his lips and neck. A pleasant bittersweet memory made him bite his lip nervously. She was so goddamn pretty. And not his anymore. What a fucking shame.

"Well thank you, handsome," she returned the little compliment, getting the hair out of her mouth.

“I’m just telling the truth,” he assured her with a smile.

Leon wasn’t used to being called handsome, mostly because he didn’t really see himself that way. But it was nice to hear it, and it filled him with warmth. When she held the cigarette close to her lips — he finally realized that she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring anymore, and he felt a pang of sadness deep down inside along with the guilt, because he knew that it was partially his fault that they were divorced.

"So.." her eyes roamed over him once again with curiosity, a sigh escaping her lips. She took a drag on her cigarette, keeping eye contact, making Leon blush even deeper. "How have you been?..."

Leon gave her an awkward half-smile, reluctant to lie to her. He didn’t want to just spill his heart out to her right then and there either though.

“I’m… fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just busy… dealing with the usual stuff.”

Leon seemed like he was about to ask her something but then he hesitated, seeming unsure whether or not he should try it.

“And… you?” he managed to mumble illegibly.

"Relatively fine," she mumbled back, exhaling the smoke, her eyes sparkling in the city lights of the night. "What are you doing here?" She nodded at the bar behind their backs, curious to hear his answer.

He noticed the sparkle in her eyes, and he smiled a bit, thinking that she still looked exactly as he remembered. Leon noticed her nod at the bar and he followed her gaze. He raised his eyebrows, looking like he was thinking about just how much he should tell her. Then, he decided to keep it vague.

“Just… trying to unwind,” he said simply. She doesn’t need to know that every night he unwinds with several drinks, he definitely wouldn’t want her to think he’s a drunk.

"I see. finally on vacation, huh?" she giggled, feeling the awkward tension between them growing profusely in the air.

“You know me. Gotta get one sometimes,” he admitted with an amused expression, trying to lighten up the awkwardness between them. He was quiet for a moment, and she could see on his face that he truly missed her, despite everything they’d been through. Still, he wasn’t sure how to ask her what he wanted to ask her, so he let another moment of silence pass between them before speaking up again.

“And… how about you? What brings you here?”

"I had a date," she replied, taking another drag on her cig, not taking her eyes off him for a second, and he could’ve sworn to God that never in his life had he wanted her to look away so badly. But she never did. She was sinking his appearance in carefully, trying to figure out whether she touched something still sensitive inside of him or not.

Leon was hurt and a little devastated by her answer, and yet... he wasn't surprised. It was only natural that she had moved on with her life, even though the realization still hurt him like he'd been stabbed in the heart. His face fell and he looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. He tried to hide his pain and put on a fake smile, not wanting to show her any weakness. He cleared his throat and looked at her again, trying to keep his tone casual.

"How did it go?" He asked her, trying to seem normal.

"Pretty bad, to be honest," she answered with a chuckle, clearly satisfied with the way his face dropped. She was there for the drama, he could tell she was just still as much of a tease as she used to be when they were still a couple.

Leon didn’t like being teased by her, especially when he was feeling so emotional. It was one of the reasons that he didn’t want to show her any weakness. He tried to keep from choking up and maintain a calm expression as he nodded at her.

“At least you made it out alive,” he remarked dryly, trying to keep his voice light. His face still showed pain and sadness, though.

She laughed at his joke, taking a step closer to him, the scent of her perfume, mingled with the lingering smell of cigarettes made him feel dizzy right on the spot.

"Yeah, I’m… still alive, I suppose. Sorry, Leon, your prayers have not been heard yet."

He was shocked when she stepped closer to him, and he had to take a moment to process it. Finally, he cleared his throat and took a small step away, keeping his hands to himself for fear of doing something that he might regret or making her feel uncomfortable. He glanced down at them, noticing how they were shaking a bit, then looked back up at her. His expression was soft now.

"Why the step back?" She raised one eyebrow at him, genuinely curious.

"I was about to say "I don’t bite”, but.. we both know that’s not true," she added with a smirk, her eyes lingering on his leather jacket for a couple seconds. Oh lord, was she.. tipsy?

Leon didn’t want to get too close to her on his own accord, because his instincts were telling him that doing so would make him want to tell her how much he had missed her, what a mistake getting the divorce was, and how much he still loved her. So he put some distance between them, still feeling an urge to reach out and touch her.

“Just…” he began, not really sure what to say, “Just giving you some… some personal space,” he finished with a shrug.

"I see," she nodded, then finally took her eyes off him to turn on her heels and throw the cigarette end away. She was so tempted to see what happens next.

Leon was also very tempted to do something, but then his mind reminded him of his current job and what could be at stake. Not only would it be immoral of him to make any attempt now, but it would also make him look unprofessional. It would just repeat the story. His busyness was probably the main reason of their divorce. Not to mention, what if she was already serious about another guy?

“If you… if you want, we could… hang out sometime…” he suggested. He swallowed hard and felt a lump in his throat, trying to act casual.

“Hang out sometime?" she looked him over her shoulder, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "What are we, in highschool?"

He felt the heat rising in his cheeks, realizing that he probably worded it wrong. And as he felt his cheeks getting red, he felt a sudden urge to just kiss her. No questions asked. No more words. Just… a kiss.

Leon’s breathing began to get a little faster, and he wasn’t sure what to say next.

His heart was racing and his mouth felt dry like he’d downed a whole bottle of whiskey.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean…” Leon began, still trying to recover from his blunder.

"Relax, i’m just fucking with you," she laughed it off, licking her lower lip.

"Wanna grab a drink before I head home?" she asked, nodding at the bar entrance again.

Leon breathed a small sigh of relief, happy that she was only messing with him and that he didn’t just make a big fool of himself. His eyes widened when she asked him to grab a drink and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Uhm. Yeah, sure,” he said after a moment of thought, nodding, and then he followed behind her inside the bar. He knew very well what she meant by a drink and it made him feel both tense and happy at the same time.

The sounds of her heels clacking were interrupted with the loud music as soon as they stepped in. She led the way to the counter: it looked like she was familiar with the establishment already. Leon felt something he hadn’t felt in a while, it filled him with warmth, and he wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful, and that he missed her. But when he realized that she was familiar with the place, his face dropped. She probably had that fucking date here.

“What can I get you?” He asked her, once they reached the counter, looking around at the different options.

"Ah, just my usual," she hops on the stool, throwing her purse on the counter. She then glued her eyes back to him, a cocky grin playing in the corners of her mouth. She was curious if he still remembered how she likes her scotch.

Leon’s heart skipped a beat when she sat down in front of him, and he found himself admiring her figure. He also caught her grin, a pleasant feeling tingling in his chest. He remembered how this used to turn him on when she did that.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat, returning the smirk. “How was I to remember that?” He asked her with a teasing tone as his eyes went from her lips, to her eyes, to her neck, and all the way down to her legs.

"I know for a fact you remember that. We used to be the greatest alcoholic couple to ever exist, after all," she stated, leaning on the counter. He couldn’t help but laugh at her response, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah…” he chuckled, leaning his weight on the counter as well, looking at her with his eyebrow raised.

“So… how’s the… uhm, date life been treating you?” He asked her, almost afraid of her response.

"Rough, just like I prefer it," she laughed it off, her eyes searching for the bartender. Leon felt a wave of jealousy hit him, and it made him feel a bit down. He had to remind himself to not let those feelings rule him again.

“And uh… you… seeing someone regularly?” He asked her, hoping that she wasn’t serious, but the way she was acting indicated otherwise. He ordered two scotches, and he turned back to her. He tried to hide the pain behind a smile, but it wasn’t easy.

"No, not exactly," she dodges the question skillfully. Well, what else did he expect? She’s not the one to reveal all the juicy details right away, especially now that he’s her ex-husband. Every thing about their interaction reminded him of that, and it made his heart ache in ways he never knew were possible before.

Leon’s soul tightened and he felt pain in it, anger brewing inside of him. He had to force himself to stay calm. It was hard with her sitting right in front of him. A million thoughts raced in his mind and he kept coming to the same conclusion. She’s probably sleeping with someone else. Leon’s jealousy was growing with each moment. And he thought that was a reason for her to dodge the question. And he still loved her and wanted her back but she probably didn’t feel the same.

Leon stayed silent for a while, and then suddenly felt like he can’t take it any longer.

“What’s with the dodging questions?” he snapped at her, “Did I do something, or are you just playing with me?”

At that exact moment, the bartender came back with the scotches, but Leon ignored them, just letting the silence sink in.

He really wanted to talk to her. The last few years had been hard and he knew that she would be someone he could lean on. And he wanted her. Desperately. He couldn’t hide it any longer.

"I’m not dodging the question," she arched her back, hand wrapping around the glass of scotch the second she touched it.

"I’m not dating anyone at the moment, if that’s what you’re asking about. But how is this any of your business anyway?"

She was so fucking cool about it and it was driving Leon nuts. How could she do this to him? What’s the matter with this banter? Has she become completely heartless after their split? She took a slow sip on her scotch, her eyes wandering all over the place, lingering on anything but him. And she was fucking right. Admitting it made Leon want to clench the poor glass in his hand so tight it could shatter any second. It wasn't any of his business anymore, indeed.

Leon sighed heavily, trying to contain his emotions, and he let out a breath.

“Don’t.. don’t do this,” he said in a pleading tone, his eyes looking at her, begging for her with hurt in his gaze.

“How could it not be my business? We were together, and… it feels… ” He fell silent for a few moments, trying to find the right words to say. He was trying to stay level-headed but it was very difficult.

"How’s work?" she interrupted him abruptly, tilting her head to gaze into his blushing face, prompting him to quickly put on a fake relaxed expression.

Leon’s heart was crushed. Her sudden shift in tone felt cruel and it made him feel like she didn’t care about him.

“Nothing much. Just the usual,” he replied after a moment of thought, trying to hide the fact that she did actually hurt him.

“Keeping the streets safe from terrorists, protecting cities all over the world…” he raised his eyebrows and then chuckled, “It can get pretty hectic at times.” He took a sip from his scotch in order to give himself a chance to compose himself. The thought sent a wave of aggravation through his chest. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Same old Leon,” he added with a fake smile

"Really? Same old guy?" she smiled, looking at him with... some strange kind of affection. The kind of affection you give to people who aren’t in your life as much anymore. Who knows, maybe she actually missed him too.

“Yeah…” he replied, “Same old guy.” He took a deep breath to keep himself together, trying to be mature. But this was eating him up from the inside and he didn’t know what to do. The way she looked at him filled him with hope and a little bit of pain, and he felt a sense of relief for a moment before the realization that she didn’t mean it hit him.

He was stuck between wanting her back and wanting to hate her. He didn’t know which one to go for.

"I wouldn’t be so sure. Since you are the one seeing someone new, apparently," she nodded at the ring on his finger, a smirk appearing on her face yet again. She knew damn well it was their wedding ring, she would recognize it from the thousands of rings, even though it was a very plain piece of jewellery. But she wanted him to admit it to her face. She wanted to hear directrly from him that he still wears it.

"And it looks pretty serious. Are you married again? Does your new spouse know that you’re getting drunk with your ex-wife right now?" she chuckled and bit her lip, her eyes glowing with curiosity.

Leon felt his heart drop and his face turn red as she pointed out the ring. Of course she would notice that he hadn’t taken it off. He didn’t want to talk about it just yet, and he cleared his throat.

“This… um…” He looked away, unable to look her in the eyes. “This is…” he began, feeling ashamed and embarrassed. “It… it isn’t what you think… it’s…”

Finally, he gave up and looked back at her, his expression filled with sadness. “I… I got remarried.”

"Really?" she raised one eyebrows, giving him a tongue-in-cheek expression.

Yeah right. Remarried. Fucking bullshit.

"Congratulations! What is she like?" she continued with a vicious smirk. God, what a cruel woman she is. Her face was screaming "I've got you. Just admit that you're lying, don't humiliate yourself more".

Leon could see the relief in her face and his heart ached again. How can she act so nonchalant? Doesn’t she love him anymore?

“Um…” he felt himself tense up. He felt his stomach twisting and he didn’t want to tell her all of it. But he knew he didn’t want to lie to her either. She was his ex-wife, but he did still care and he did still feel some level of loyalty to her.

“She… we don’t…” he said, before sighing. “It’s complicated,” he left it at that.

"Complicated, really? Oh I’m so sorry to hear that," she squinted after taking another sip on her scotch, there was barely anything left in her glass now. Leon was terrible at lying. At this point it would be less embarrassing if he just admitted he still wears their ring right away.

Leon felt a wave of humiliation spread over him. Finally, he cleared his throat, and he let out another sigh. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes, so he spoke to the ground.

“Yeah…” he said softly, shaking his head, “…I still wear the ring…”

"Huh? So… there’s no new wife?" she tried her best to fake a confused frown, but the proud smirk and the obvious sarcasm in her tone destroyed her plan completely, leaving Leon flustered. She won. It was impossible to deceive her.

Leon’s face went pale. His lips trembled a little bit and his throat became dry.

He felt the anger building in him and he wanted so desperately to tell her how he felt. Or, even worse, go back and pretend that the truth was something else, and to lie again. He was stuck between those two options, and he felt so lost. He had never expected things to go this badly.

"You don’t need to answer that. I'm done torturing you, don’t worry," she gasped, looking away, tapping on the glass with her nail.

Leon closed his eyes and felt a wave of shame wash over him.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment of thought, looking back at her with a hint of a smile, and he meant it. “Not many people have the mercy to stop when it’s time,” he added, grateful for her.

"I learned not to get too carried away, I guess," she stated with a sigh, throwing her head back, her tired, weary eyes swirling the ceiling now.

"Why are you still wearing it though? For the sake of avoiding attention from younger girls?" she chuckled lazily and closed her eyes, making Leon notice the mascara fallouts under them.

Leon chuckled as well.

“Funny you should ask,” he began, with a small smile. “I’m still wearing it because it reminds me of the only time in my life when I was truly happy.”

He paused for a moment, and he felt himself get emotional. He swallowed hard as he tried to keep the tears from falling.

"You’re sweet," she whispered, turning her head back to meet his eyes with hers, her index finger playing with now empty scotch glass.

Leon stared at her and his heart skipped a beat when their gazes met.

“You’re still just as beautiful as you were back then,” he whispered.

“You were my everything,” Leon added, and the words felt strange to say. But it was the truth.

"...And you were mine," she admitted, a hint of pain crawling into her tone.

The hurt in her voice made his heart ache and he nodded as tears fell from his eyes.

“I’m sorry for what I did, … I know that it’s not worth much now, but I truly am,” he said with a slight whimper. “I’ve thought about calling you so many times…” he sighed and looked down, his shoulders slumping. “I should’ve fought for us…” Leon’s face contorted into a frown and he held his breath, “I didn’t realize just how much I missed you…”

She interrupts him with a kiss, a loud sound of their teeth hitting together messing a moment up a little, but she quickly recovers, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and burrowing another into his hair, pulling him closer, suffocating him with her mouth hungrily, making him feel the taste of that same fucking lipstick, cigarettes and whiskey.

A million thoughts raced in Leon’s head as he felt the kiss. Every time she kissed him he felt a rush of affection and love, and he adored it. His mind went blank and he lost himself in the moment. He pulled her closer and put his hands on her waist, kissing her back. His passion for her, his love for her, had never gone away. It was still there, all the way to his core, and holding her tight like this felt so natural.

It was just like the old times.

She pulled away reluctantly, frantically gasping for air, letting out a chuckle when she notices him licking her saliva off his lips and wiping her lipgloss off his mouth and chin.

Fuck. What a damn turn on.

Leon’s heart skipped a beat once she stopped the kiss and he chuckled along with her.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but we were in the middle of a conversation,” he laughed as he wiped his mouth.

“But you have a way of shutting me up…” He added, his face lighting up as they shared that moment. Leon smiled and pulled her close again.

“Damn…” he sighed as he caressed her face, brushing his fingers along her cheek and jaw, and his eyes glanced back and forth between her eyes and her lips. “You haven’t changed at all, and I’m definitely not complaining,” he added playfully, enjoying their physical closeness. “I really missed kissing you like that…”

"Do you want another reminder?..." she giggled, her hand finding its way to his hair again. He felt a wave of tingles go through his spine and his hairs stood up as her fingers ran through them. He liked it when she did that. Just like the good old days.

“Yes please,” he said with a grin. His heart was beating so fast as he looked into her eyes. “You know I can’t resist you,” he said playfully, before kissing her again.

She gently pushed her tongue into his mouth this time, carefully biting on his bottom lip as she smirked into the kiss, knowing damn well just how much that turns Leon on. She grabbed him by the collar eagerly, as the tips of their tongues met and wet noises of making out would definitely fill the bar if the music wasn’t as loud.

Leon felt his heart start racing in his chest, and he couldn’t help it. She could do anything she wanted to him and he would just allow it. He didn’t mind. He was powerless in her hands. His heart was beating faster with pure pleasure as the tips of their tongues met, and he moaned quietly into the kiss. He pulled away after what felt like an eternity and said,

“Wow… I… Damn…”

He was out of breath, but he didn’t care at all.

"Do you want to get out of here?.." She whispered immediately after breaking the kiss, wiping the lipstick off his face with her thumb again. He was such a mess right now.

Leon’s mind went blank.

How can she just say those words so casually? What is she thinking? Is she feeling the same thing as him? The same attachment he still feels for her? Is she just taking him for a ride and playing with him? The questions raced through his head. Before he could speak, or even think straight, he looked down at the ring on his hand. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

“Yes.”

She was genuinely surprised, not expecting him to agree right away just like that. She cleared her throat, as she recalled some very pleasant memories about their sex life, hot and painful arousal forming somewhere down her abdomen and she glanced at his hands again, coughing loudly when she pictured them touching her in all the most private places again. Leon’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the look in her eyes.

Was she thinking what he thought she was thinking?

He cleared his throat and chuckled nervously, a light turning red tinting his cheeks.

“Oh god, are you… Are you…?” He couldn’t believe he was asking her this. He felt like a teenage guy at this moment. But he had to know.

"Am I what? Turned on right now?" She chuckled, her pupils widening in anticipation, “You can’t even imagine how."

Leon started to sweat as he felt a wave of pleasure wash over him.

“Well… I can’t wait to see how then,” he answered, his cheeks flushing more. “Uh… Where would we go?” He asked, unsure of what to do next at this point.

"How drunk are you?" She asked, as the playful twinkle appeared in her eyes, her now darkened and swollen from kissing lips tempting him even harder.

“Not as drunk as I’d like to be,” he joked, his face still a little red from the last kiss. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers once more. After a long moment, he pulled away again.

“But I’m definitely not sober either,” he admitted, “It’s kind of hard to be whenever you’re around.” He looked at her again, feeling overwhelmed by her beauty, the burning desire growing in his crotch. “I could just spend the rest of my life kissing you,” he sighed in pleasure.

"Woah, did someone turn into a romantic after we got divorced?" She placed a couple of wet kisses on his neck and jaw, clearly giving zero fucks about it being inappropriate both for public and for their age.

Leon laughed and gently pulled away. “Damn… You love playing with a man, don’t you?” He said teasingly, with a playful wink. He looked around at the bar and all of the people around them.

“I think we should probably go somewhere more private. As long as it doesn’t sound too boring to you, of course.”

"Well I remember that one time when you couldn’t wait to get somewhere private..." Her fingers grabbed his knee gently, it was obvious from her tone that she was hinting on that one time when they fucked in public a couple years ago, too impatient and too drunk to get home. The hint made Leon even harder and he pictured grabbing her pretty thighs, placing her right on that counter and fucking all the living shit out of her right then and there, for being so damn pretty, for seducing him so effortlessly, for not being his anymore.

Leon felt a wave of lust wash over him as she continued to speak.

She hasn’t forgotten, and she still wants him.

He cleared his throat and gulped hard, trying to hide the excitement in his voice but failing.

“Maybe we should… go to my hotel room,” he suggested enthusiastically. “If you’re okay with that,” he added.

"Oh, that would be nice.." she whispered, looking at him with her eyes wide open, the lustful thoughts in her head so loud and so obvious Leon could almost hear them. He felt himself getting a little bit more nervous when he noticed her expression.

He nodded. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, his heart racing in his chest. They both stood up, and Leon gave the bartender a few bills to cover their drinks and the tip.

God bless this fucking bar.

“Now let’s get out of here before we get too hot and bothered,” he chuckled.

She stood up too, grabbing her purse while hopping off the stool. She quickly closed the distance between them, grasping his hand tight, their fingers intertwining, causing Leon's heart to beat like crazy. Leon felt himself tingle throughout his entire body as their fingers touched, his heart speeding up dramatically.

Oh, god…

The second they walked out of the bar Leon pressed her body against the wall, pinning her, locking her hands above her head by grabbing her thin wrists, pushing his knee between her legs. He began to kiss her lips, neck — even her collarbone, as she kept chuckling and arching her back, soft sweet whimpers leaving her lips one after another.

"Woah, honey, have you missed me that much?" She teased, her eyes rolling back when his tongue trailed down the curve on her neck, leaving a path of saliva on it.

Leon felt a wave of pleasure wash over him as he pinned her to the wall. “Yeah... I have…” He said softly, “I’ve missed it all…”

"I’ve missed you too, Leon…" She wanted to bury her hands into his hair again, but he held them high above her head, preventing her from moving them. She then tilted her head, so that her lips were now really close to his neck. Without hesitation, she sank her teeth in, smiling as he gasped and loosened his grip on her wrists. She always bites hard and this time was no exception — she was practically chewing on his neck, leaving a deep almost bloody mark. She missed him so much it made her want to tear him apart, to bite a chunk out of him, to mark him everywhere. Leon hissed as she bit his neck and he leaned back, his heart racing.

“Damn… What did you do that for?” He asked softly, his words being caught by his teeth. He cleared his throat and chuckled nervously as he touched his neck. “You really like biting me, don’t you?” The mark she left made it clear.

"Just claiming you again.." She grinned, licking his taste off her lips, admiring the deep lovebite she left on him. Leon smirked. He’d missed those little inside jokes.

“I’m all yours…” He whispered as he leaned in again, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I always have been. I never forgot the first time you marked me like that,” he added and he brought his hands to her waist.

She leans against the wall with her hand on his shoulder, her eyes gazing into his face with sadness. She blinks wearily and pulls him closer towards her, his hands gripping on her waist tighter.

"You were such a right person for me, Leon. You still are. I guess it’s just... the time wasn’t exactly right..." She admits, the sorrow in her tone so overwhelming and so gut-wrenching that Leon just wants to fall down to his knees and wrap his arms around her right on the street for everyone to see: anything to make her stay with him forever, to win her back.

Leon held her closer as she said those words. He sighed, looking into her eyes, and he felt a wave of intense feelings wash over him... A mixture of fear. Excitement. Joy. Sadness…

“But you still feel like home for me…”

"Maybe I am your home."

That sounds more like a statement than a question. A sad smile plays at the corners of her lips. She's right. She's fucking right again and it's killing him mercilessly. Her words left him feeling lost, confused and vulnerable. In a moment of weakness, he leaned in again, pressing his lips against hers and kissing her longer and deeper.

“I still want you just as bad,” he whispered.

"Fuck.." She managed to mumble something senseless with her eyes closed. Her arms — unpinned from the wall now, were resting around his neck, inviting him for another embrace. All of the feelings and emotions he hadn’t felt in years — he felt all of that again. Like a rush. And the most dangerous part was… that he enjoyed every second of it. He felt alive again. He pulled away and looked into her eyes with a sad smile. “I’d give anything to run away with you now.”

"There’s no need for that, honey. You’re not too drunk to ride your bike, are you?" She teased, brushing her nose against his neck, the smell of his cologne causing the hairs on her body to stay on end.

Leon laughed. “No, I can probably manage it still,” he looked down at the ground.

“It’s dangerous though… riding my bike out there, at night. Anything can happen.” He added.

Like getting stopped by the cops, getting attacked on the road… The thought of her safety still gave him a chill, even after all these years.

“But I want to do it. I’ll be careful. I promise,” he said, pulling her close to hold onto her one more time. He grabbed her hand and they walked out to his motorcycle together. Leon jumped on, waiting for her to get on too. Once he was sure she was seated comfortably behind him, he started the engine, revving it a few times. “Hold on tight!” He laughed, and then he took off with a loud sound. Her hands crawled under his arms to hold on his chest, head resting on his shoulder from behind. Leon smiled as he felt her body against his. He looked up at the stars and the city lights passing by. And for once, his troubles seemed to fade away. She was the only thing he felt. The only thing that felt real. He was truly happy for the first time in those two long years. A feeling he had missed terribly.

***

Leon places a kiss on her jaw, his hands gripping on her hips so hard she feels like she's going to faint. He grips like he's afraid to lose her again, like she's about to slip out of his arms the second the elevator stops. But she’s still there, pinned to the cold wall with the weight of his body (at this point he clearly has a thing for pressing her against something), moaning into his lips, pulling his hair — her every movement encouraging him to never stop.

“I won’t let you go this time, darling,” he whispers, his hands travelling from her hips to her upper body, stroking her ribs under the tight dress. He still felt a little unsure, a little nervous, but he wanted her. So badly.

“I’m not letting you go, ever again.”

“You’re stuck with me, for better… or for worse.” Another kiss on the neck, a purple hickey appearing quickly on her tender skin after he pulls his lips away, completely out of breath - so vulnerable and so needy, only for her.

"Oh, am I now?..." She looks up at him, getting on her tiptoes to reach his ear. Her voice wheezy and low when she whispers another inappropriate sweet nothing into it, nibbling on his earlobe, her hand slipping down his torso, causing goosebumps to appear all over his skin. She grabs on his crotch, letting out a genuinely surprised moan when she feels how hard he already is.

“You are,” he answered. He had never said those words to her before, not in this way at least. But he meant them with every fiber of his being. He kissed her again. Hard. Harder. With a level of desperation in his touch.

“I never stopped loving you… not once in the whole two damned years… I couldn’t stop… I wouldn’t stop…” he muttered, his voice breaking.

"Fuck, I seriously might pass out if you keep saying it like that..." she digs her fingers into his shoulder, gripping him tightly, trying to keep her balance. The elevator is finally on their floor, its doors opening automatically, playing a short silly melody. Leon smiles slyly, his hands diving down to her hips again. He easily lifts her up into his arms — so casually, that a small cry of surprise escapes her lips. She giggles, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck to prevent herself from falling, and he carries her out of the elevator, catching the attention of an older couple in the hallway, causing them to momentarily pause their conversation and cast a judgmental glance in the direction of the lovers. Leon kept her close, as he carried her inside the room. Her little giggle had only made him want her more. He was already feeling lightheaded due to her kisses, his heart racing a thousand miles per minute as he put the key in the door and turned it, pushing it open.

“Damn…” he whispered, a little breathless. “I’m going to need a cold shower after all that…” he chuckled. He closes the door with one hand, supporting her with the other, definitely not planning on letting her go even for a second. As he tries to close the door, he curses out loud, which makes her laugh again.

"Not a chance, hun. I’m not letting you go anywhere until we’re done," she whispered, chuckling when Leon slipped over something while trying so desperately to lock the room.

"Careful, I don’t want you falling and breaking my neck."

"Don't worry. I've got you." Leon's finally done with the damn door, so he throws the key on the first surface that caught his eye. He grabs her with both hands again, leaning in for another kiss. A couple of steady steps — and he's placing her on the hotel bed as gently as he possibly can, making sure she's comfortable. His jacket slips off and falls onto the bed when he crawls on top of her, their tongues swirling each other in their mouthes. He could feel his blood rushing to his cock. God. This felt so damn overwhelming. He reached for the hem of his shirt, ready to take it off after the jacket.

"Someone’s eager," she stated with a teasing grin after pulling away from the kiss, a trail of saliva stretching between the tips of their tongues. With her hands stroking his stomach under the shirt, she moves closer to him, feeling his muscles become tense under her gentle fingertips immediately. He straightens up, then pulls his shirt off with trembling hands. It allows her better access to the belt and she gets the hint, agile fingers reaching for the buckle as she kisses his stomach, pleased with the way his body reacts to the touch. He moans her name, gasping for air, pushing her towards him with a huff, fingers rubbing the soft hair on the back of her head. He needs her so bad it makes him look absolutely stupid and desperate.

"Fuck, darling, the things you do to me-" he lets out a breathless chuckle and bites his lip, the thumb of his free hand reaching for her chin to stroke it. He grabs it authoritatively, yet still gently, just enough effort to show her who’s in charge here (or so he thought). Another brief moment passes by and his finger finally reaches its destination — her lower lip, on which he puts pressure gently, causing her pretty mouth to open wide for him.

"Look at you. So hot for me."

"You have no room to talk. You’re hard as fuck, and I’m not even naked yet," she laughs, sticking her tongue out to swirl it around his thumb, piercing eyes watching his every movement carefully. She then accepts the finger deeper into her mouth, sucking on it, enjoying the sight of Leon throwing his head back with an audible moan, numerous sweat drops forming on his forehead.

“You’re irresistable. Maybe that’s why I always come crawling back to you…” Leon said quietly, finally taking the thumb out of her mouth, shivering at the pleasant feeling of wet slick tongue brushing it one last time.

“Flaterrer.”

Another sharp inhale, heavy eyelids covering her eyes when Leon bends his knees and climbs back onto the bed, his body above her, temples wet with sweat, his always neat hair sticking to them now. He grabs her wrist, politely putting her hand away from the belt, and kisses the crook of her neck, his tongue teasingly trailing down to her collarbone, luscious scent of her hair making him salivate.

“Stop being such a fucking tease!”

Her hips are grinding against his, her every move filled with excitement.

She really hasn’t changed at all… Leon thought to himself with a smile.

“Shh, just let me feel you like this for a moment… You’re not very patient, are you?” Leon asked, grinding back against her. His fingers trace a path down her back, moving in circular motions along her spine. The sensation causes her to arch her back and grip his shoulders tighter, his low, raspy voice intoxicating her.

“Respectfully, honey, we kinda haven’t had sex in two years,” she returns the teasing, planting a sloppy kiss on his jaw. Leon rolles his eyes with a short laugh, his fingers quickly finding the zipper of her dress. He gives her lower back a gentle tickle, trailing his short nails along its surface. When the dress is finally unzipped, a wave of indescribable arousal washes over Leon. He fights the urge to take his pants off, the pain from his cock getting too hard unable to fit in them anymore. But it can’t be done yet. He wants to tease her, to do everything right, to just remember her squirming impatiently under his touch like this forever. His hands trace the curves of her shoulders and he rushes to undress her eagerly, way too excited to see her naked chest. He knows it’s unlikely to see a bra there.

And he guesses it right.

The dress slips down her shoulders, revealing her breasts. Leon gulpes, sinking her appearance in, fighting the urge to bite into the soft flesh. He hesitates for a couple seconds, but eventually does just that, leaning in, putting her hair out of the way, gently brushing his still wet after her mouth thumb over the hard nipple.

“Still don’t know what a bra is, I suppose?” He sucks on the nipple gently, his teeth sinking into it with an extra level of carefulness, tasting her again and again, squeezing the tender breast passionately in his hand.

Oh how he wanted this. Oh just how many times had he touched himself, picturing her moaning under him like this again, all worked up and messy, begging him to fuck her brains out.

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve missed the most?” she teased, laughing at the ticklish feeling of his thumb playing with the sensitive nipple, watching his tongue swirl around it.

“What can I say... you have quite the tits,” Leon pulls away for a second, his lips parting with an audible sound.

“Please, shut up and save yourself the embarrassment,” she blushes instantly at his poor comment, pulling his hair with more strength now, “Don’t ruin the damn mood.”

“Still just as shy about it…” Leon whispered with a tiny smirk. “But I love the reaction,” he added, kissing her shoulder, finally releasing the wet sucked for a good minute breast. He continued stripping off her dress, starting to feel nervous again.

“I’m gonna slap you if you don’t stop being a smartmouth,” she threatened, her tone laced with half-hearted jest as she tapped his shoulder.

“Huh? I thought we’re saving the kinky stuff for later…” He finally pulls the dress off her with a wink, his knees beginning to tremble again at the sight of her sitting in front of him naked like this.

“Leon, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up-”

“Fine.”

He shoved his hands between her thighs with a laugh, fingers moving confidently to put her underwear to the side. He decides to gently wrap his hand around her throat, pushing his tongue into her open mouth, listening to every moan that escapes her lips. When his hand trailes down her neck to her collarbone, something metallic gets in the way. Leon pulls away with a confused expression, raising one eyebrow.

He notices a strange piece of jewelry under his fingers. He ignores it at first, but when he sees her face turning red, his gaze returns to the strange metal thing hanging around her neck.

And his heart sinks.

Dangling delicately from a silver chain, her wedding ring shimmered in the dull light of the hotel room.

"You... You kept it too?" he asked, holding the ring with a surprised face. "The whole time..?"

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not the only one heartbroken ex-spouse in this marriage, Leon, sorry I took your spotlight,” she chuckled, looking away, her embarrassment palpable in the air. “I just didn’t want to wear it on my finger after the divorce. You know me, I wouldn’t like people thinking I’m not over you, even if that’s obvious. And I kept it next to my heart like this anyway,” she adds with a sad chuckle, twisting the ring between her fingers.

Leon laughed softly.

"That's the saddest and the sweetest thing I've ever heard..." He replied, filled with empathy and emotion. He kisses her temple, thumb stroking her inner thigh gently, ready to strip the underwear off her. He wants to say something else, to break the silence with some reassuring speech, but the look in her eyes tells him to just keep going and save the conversation for later.

He gently pressed on her clothed clit with his thumb, gasping when he feels the soaked with her slick underwear under his touch.

“Please don’t torture me. Take ‘em off,” she murmurs, stroking his shoulder, her breath twitching at the sensation of her clit being stimulated.

He gets to work no questions asked, taking that piece of lingerie off her, his hands starting to shake with excitement againt. He notices the slick dripping down her thigh from her glistering entrance. Fuck. So wet for him already. What a pleasant view.

Once he was done with her underwear, his needy hands returned to her swollen clit, thumb circling around it with passion. It certainly was the best part of sleeping with Leon — no matter how desperate and turned on he is, no matter how much he wants to just sink his aching cock into her, he always has to make her cum first, using either his skilled hands or his tongue. And it seems like tonight he has chosen the first option.

He continued rubbing her clit with the thumb of his right hand, dragging the middle finger of his left hand through her aroused folds, warming her up, but not entering yet.

“May I?” he asked, inhaling, waiting for her permission. And when she nods, looking down at his hands with her lip bitten, the finger finally slips inside her, causing his whole body to melt and twitch, enjoying the sweet feeling of her tight, warm walls consuming it easily. She groans, then moans a breathy “Oh god” as her nails dig into his arm raggedly, responding to his touch. Leon can’t help a smirk. The way she was still so needy around him definitely did good things to his ego. Was she masturbating to the memories of their previous intercourses all these years too? She most definitely did. Judging by her reaction she was still just as desperate for him as he was for her.

He pushed the finger deeper, a weird sound escaping her lips when he bent it inside of her, trying to find the right angle. She squinted. Unlike Leon, she had a couple of hook-ups in those two years, but they weren’t serious nor were they frequent, so she wasn’t exactly used to being fingered by somebody else anymore. She tried to relax, arching her back with her eyes closed. She knew Leon will find the right spot eventually. He was good with his hands.

Leon nodded at the squint and changed the position of his finger slightly, trying to make her feel good again.

“Don’t worry, hun, I’ve got it, just give me a moment-” he pleaded, rubbing her clit with more pressure now, trying to distract her from the weird feeling, placing a soft comforting kiss on her shoulder.

“I-It’s okay,” she stuttered, opening her legs wider for him. “Just move your finger to the side a little- Oh fuck, yeah, just like that, yeah, right there-“ she moaned, a mixture of curse words escaping her lips again. Leon sighed with relief. He still hasn’t forgotten how to push her buttons. It felt good to know he still remembers how to please his lady in bed.

He begins to finger her carefully, trying to concentrate on her pleasure without losing his own composure. His movements were vigilant, yet still confident and the wet sounds of him pulling the finger in and out mixed with her breathy moans filled the hotel room, driving him completely crazy again.

“This okay?” he asks, speeding his movements up a little bit and watching her writhe in bed. Always so damn caring, stretching her with his finger like that, preparing her for his cock. She nods, whispering sweet innapropriate nothings into his ear, her nails digging into his arm deeper with every second, legs spread open, inviting him to add another finger in. And so he does just that, pushing his ring finger into her cunt, thumb of his other hand still circling her clit, his eyes glowing with intense lust he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“Fuck, you can’t even imagine how much I needed that...” he purrs into her lips when she cups his cheek to pull him into another hot, steamy kiss, her tongue meeting his again.

“Damn, darling, you’re really trying to eat me alive today,” he adds with a devious chuckle, his fingers only picking up speed with no intention to stop until she cums on them.

“Leon, one more smart comment and I-“

But her brain is not working anymore, it’s too overwhelmed with his touch, with the way he dips his tongue into her collarbone, as her warm silk walls are wrapped tightly around his fingers.

“There, there...” he cooed softly, nuzzling his nose against her left breast. She throws her head back, trying to keep the hair out of her face, sweaty hands starting to wander all over his tense back now.

“Are you going to cum for me, darling?” Leon asks with a grin, a hopeful look in his eyes pushing her even closer to the climax. No one could ever compare with him. He proved it again skillfully, even after two years of so-called celibate (except for jerking off to fake scenarious where he fucks her at least once a day).

“L-Leon, I’m gonna-“ she tries to string a sentence together before dissolving into pleasure completely, but him sucking on her nipple again doesn’t help to concentrate on the words at all.

“I can feel you twitching, honey. C’mon. Do it for me. Cum on my fingers,” he pulls his mouth away from her breast, rubbing her clit with more intensity now, just like she always preffered it. He could feel her muscles spasm around his fingers and it made him want to please her only more, kissing every inch of her neck as she gets closer to her orgasm. “Do it for me, honey. I want to make you feel good. Don’t be shy, you can be as loud as you want...” he praised in between kisses, fingers moving as fast as they possibly can inside of her.

“Fuck, I..”

She falls down on the bed, writhing around, teeth clenched as her legs start to squirm, tangling the sheets into a complete mess. Her vision faded to black when she finally came with his name on her lips, her chest raising up and down as she collapsed on the bed with her back arched. Leon enjoys the view with a smug smirk at the corners of his mouth, completely enamored. Who would’ve thought that tonight’s visit to the bar could possilbly flow into fucking his ex-wife. But here she was — completely out of breath in the afterglow of her intense climax, legs tucked in and trembling, messy hair all over the pillow. He pulls his shaky covered in her slick fingers out and tilts his head to place a tender kiss on her knee.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” she mumbles, covering her sweaty face with her palm, a chuckle escaping her swollen lips.

“What? You mean I’m not too rusty?” he caressed her leg, leaving a trail of slick from the same two fingers on her thigh.

“Oh shut up, Leon. You’re not that old…” she laughs, the ringing’s still in her ears.

Leon blushed at the sight of her. “I guess my body still can manage…” he added and kissed her thigh again, feeling uneasy with each passing second. He should’ve really taken the damn pants off. With a sigh, he felt his heart beating in his ears as he looked up at her.

“You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re handsome.”

They locked eyes, the intensity between them growing with each passing second. With a surge of anticipation, he closed the distance between them, edging closer on the bed. Their lips met again, the world fading away as he surrendered to the passionate embrace. Her hands reached his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the lustfull kiss.

“Fuck...” he groaned, trying to support his body on his trembling arms. “I… I don’t have any protection on me.”

“I’m still on the pill,” she whispers with a reassuring smile, putting her hair out of his mouth.

“Oh, um... S-Sure. Let me just take these off real quick...”

“I’ve got you,” she made him straighten up again by pushing his chest slightly, lips wandering all over his neck now, sucking on it again, ignoring his light-hearted grumbling about the hickeys. She manages to undo his belt after messing with it for a few seconds. Leon chuckled again. So damn adorable. She sighs when the leather strap finally slips through the loops, relinquishing its hold.

“Jesus, is it that hard?” he whispers with a giggle, gently squeezing her side, as she strips his pants and boxers off.

“Say that to your dick,” she scoffed, wrapping her hand around his width, thumb teasing the tip by sensually pressing on the leaking with precum slit. Leon panted, pushing her back on the bed, hands squeezing her waist as she lets out a breathless whimper. She moves her hand back and forth, feeling his cock getting warmed up again.

Fuck, he could literally cum just to seeing her like this — naked, spread open for him, pressed into the bed with his weight. Leon positioned himself between her thighs, pressing their foreheads together, the head of his cock dragged against her clit in a teasing manner.

“Easy on the stroking, sweetheart,” he purred, brushing his nose against her flushed cheek. “Don’t want this to end before it even starts, you know?”

A gasp of relief escapes his lips when her hand is finally removed from his cock. Okay, now he just needs to try his best fighting the intense urge to finish while entering her: a rather hard, almost impossible task to complete in his situation, but he somehow manages, lurching forward, his head slipping inside of her almost effortlessly as he supports the cock with his hand, hissing at the feeling of her tight, gentle walls wrapping around him.

“Fuck, you’re so-” He trembles, pushing himself deeper inside of her — nice and slow, partially to tease her, partially not to cum in two seconds. “You feel so goddamn good...”

She throws her head back into the pillow, nails gripping his shoulders ready to dig into their flesh at any second. She shivers when he finally pushes his whole length in, removing the hand supporting his cock somewhere above her head. It felt indescribably good and she just straddled him tighter, squeezing his arms in anticipation.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he whispered with a chuckle, the first thrust catching her off guard completely, despite being steady and gentle. “I’m gonna need to ask you to remove those, okay?” he places his fingers over hers, gently coaxing her to loosen the grip around his arm. And once her hands fall back on the bed — he grabs her wrists with a smug smirk and pins them above her head. “We can’t have those pretty nails ruining my back tonight, can we?”

“Oh fuck you, Leon.”

“No, fuck you, actually. Oh, right. Guess what I’m doing just now?” he laughs again, placing a kiss over her smiling mouth. He thrusts again, his grip on her wrists firm, yet gentle, only to prevent her from scratching the shit out of his back. She moans back, clearly delighted. She actually enjoyed him taking control... occasionaly. They both knew she’s the one who holds power over him after all. He pulled his hips down harder, picking up speed after a couple of slow thrusts.

“Kiss me,” she demanded, arching her back for him, her ribs pressing against his now.

Leon couldn’t help but smile. He loved this side of her. The passionate side. The intimate side. Her demand made him feel so attractive, so handsome. So wanted.

He followed the request, kissing her deeply, his eyes rolling back behind his closed lids at the feeling of her cunt squeezing his cock so well, wet slapping sounds driving him crazy, making him whimper into her always ready for him mouth, which he was practically tongue-fucking now.

“I never want to stop kissing you,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against her hot temple, licking the sweat off it delicately. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy, oh god…” he kept whispering, pounding into her body now, his thrusts so deep and so messy she could almost feel the tip of his cock touching her cervix, so she squints at the new sensation again, arching her hips to slightly change the angle of penetration. He completely forgets about the damage done to his shoulders by her nails and releases her wrists, grabbing the pillow instead, his moans now resonating just as loudly as hers.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you...” he muttered, as she pressed her lips against his, her fingernails destroying their favourite part of his body again now that her hands are free. She moaned louder with every intense thrust, making him forget about all the pain he had in his heart. So good. What a goddamn bliss. To feel her again, to touch her where no one else is allowed to. A thousand thoughts were rushing through his head now. His pace got extremely fast, the poor hotel bed creacking so hard like it was going to break under their bodies at any minute. He was about to say something, but then a tear spilled from his eye and fell onto her shoulder as the words caught in his throat. As the realization set in, he felt his heart drop to his knees but he was already too far gone.

“I love you,” he finally said in a small voice, feeling his heart shatter a little as he did so, but continuing to thrust, ignoring the pain from her nails sinking into his skin again.

“I love you too...” She mumbled with her eyes shut, closing the remaining distance between them for another kiss, her heart pounding within her chest as Leon kept pounding into her cunt, turning her into an absolutely desperate for his cock mess.

He couldn’t wait any longer. The way she arched into his touch, the way she was taking him whole so easily, the way she moaned his name, even the way she was scratching his abused back with those damn nails — every single one of these things pushed him to the edge, made him twitch and groan while he bites on her gentle shoulder. He wanted to claim her as his again, to never let go of her and bring back what belongs to him and him only. Everything about her made him want to propose to her again, right then and there while he fucks her into the matress.

Leon clenched the pillow in his fist, his eyes widening as he felt the painful sting of his sweat seeping into fresh scratch marks on his back. He called her by name, making direct eye contact, his heart jumping out of his chest.

That’s it. He has to say it. It’s now or never.

“Marry me again…”

He whispered, continuing his thrusts as tears ran down his cheeks. “Say yes…” he said with desperation in his voice. “Please, I don’t want to lose you again. I won’t survive it.”

The shock coursed through her veins, leaving her momentarily breathless and her eyes widened in disbelief.

“W-what?” she finally managed to respond, another thrust making her moan and melt completely under his touch again. Leon looked her in the eyes and the fear in her expression made him feel terrible.

“Please….” he begged, “Please, I can’t lose you again…” he whispered, feeling his heart shatter further. He didn’t know what to think, or how to react, but the desperate look in his eyes was a genuine one.

Her teary eyes were roaming all over him now, she was utterly astonished, the sudden proposal distracting her from the pleasant feeling of his pulsing cock inside of her. She tried her best to recover, cupping his cheeks with a nod, one genuine, full of excitement nod that made Leon tear up again.

“Fuck, I-… Yes! Yes! Of course I’ll fucking marry you again...” she assured him with a chuckle, leaning in for another long kiss and running her tongue over his lips. Leon breathed a sigh of relief, the fuzzy feeling only growing stronger when she kissed him again, his tears shifting from sadness to tears of joy.

“I won’t leave your side this time. I won’t ever leave you again. I promise.”

“That’s right. Don’t you fucking dare anymore.”

“Never again,” he promised with an emotional frown as he hugged her again, feeling her tight walls clench around his cock, his body pressing as close as it possibly can against hers. The moment ended up even better than he imagined and she was so beautiful it almost hurt. Or maybe it was just his completely fucked up back.

“I’m getting close...” he moaned at the sensation of her hot breath on his ear, hand kneeding her soft breast again. “Fuck, let me just...” he sobbed into the pillow, loosing himself completely while pounding into her pretty cunt. He pulled out with a groan, just the second before cumming all over her pretty thighs in warm spurts, also managing to somehow stain the sheets. He tries his best not to collapse on top of her, too afraid to crush her with his weight. His trembling arm couldn’t provide any support anymore and he puts all his effort into rolling over in bed next to her, weary head spinning after the intense orgasm.

“You okay?...” her voice turns him back to reality and he opens his eyes again, chuckling at the sight of her thighs covered in his thick, sticky cum.

“Yeah, I... Hold on, I just... It felt way too good and...” he sighed as she put a wet strand of hair out of his face with her shaky hand, admiring the way he looks in that exact second. “I’ll grab you a napkin. Just let me rest for a couple seconds, okay?”

Leon tried to sit up in bed. Still feeling a bit dizzy, he managed to prop himself up on his elbows and reached for the paper towel on the nightstand. She smiled when he started to wipe his cum off her legs, finally relaxing her muscles, still burning with desire for him as he cleans her up lovingly, giving her knee a pat when he’s done.

“Leon.”

“Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows, stroking her inner thigh genty.

“What on Earth what that proposal? Did you actually mean it?...”

He gulped loudly, releasing her leg, and blinked profusely at the sudden question. Well, what was he thinking? He had asked her to marry him while literally fucking her into the bed. Of course, she was going to have questions.

Without hesitation or second thoughts, Leon replied, "I meant every word. Of course I did," he said softly, moving closer to her again. He nuzzled into her chest, hooking a leg around her body, and she accepted the embrace, putting her arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer into the hug.

"Do you doubt me?" He whispered.

"No, not at all," she shook her head, still trying to catch her breath, her eyes wandering around the hotel room. Thoughts about people definitely hearing this loud ass bed and their moans making her smile again. She sighed and kissed his forehead, her hand slipping down his shoulder to caress his tense back, while the other reached for his hair to play with it. Leon sighed with relief and returned the kiss, placing it somewhere above her collarbone. The warmth of her body comforted him in every possible way.

“And yet, you still look so tense. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks with a chuckle, a hint of fear crawling into his tone. What if she thinks it was a mistake? What if she was the one who didn’t mean it? What if she just agreed impulsively because of the arousal?

“Yes,” she reassures him with a sigh, pressing her lips against his forehead one more time.

“Just wondering how much paperwork we need to do to change my last name back to Kennedy…”

523 notes · View notes

letaliabane · 2 years

Text

Loving Hands

The youngest daughter of King Viserys falls seriously ill. Perhaps the loving hand of the Commander can do so much to help.

genre: a bit of angst, mostly fluff. mention of minor character death.

a/n: this was inspired by my mum who took care of me recently. I was very ill with a migraine, cramps and an uneasy stomach and she stayed by my side through it all. Made me think how ser harwin would take care of his lover! Enjoy!

word count: 4K

A violent cough escaped your lips before you could bring up your handkerchief to your mouth, it felt as if your chest was rattling shaking your whole entire body from the inside.

What once started out as a small cough and a simple cold had turned into something dreadfully worse but being as stubborn as you were, you never wanted to admit it.

However, you began to feel weaker as the days drew on, your body sore as if you had gone horse riding for days on end, skin cold even as the sun beat down upon you.

‘Are you well my lady?’

The gentle, but deep rumbling voice of your personal guard, Ser Harwin Strong, caught your attention as your cough finally eased. You waved him away with a small smile.

‘I’m fine, Commander. Just a little cough is all, it will pass,’ You barely gasped out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.

He came to your side, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes roamed your face. ‘I’ve heard and seen much sickness princess. If I may speak plainly, that does not sound like a normal cough.’

You scoffed but with a chuckle.

Taking a brief look around for any stragglers that wondered the gardens, you clasped the Commander’s gloved hand into yours, squeezing it as you gave him your best smile.

‘I’m perfectly alright Harwin, I promise.’

In the past few months, you and the heir to Harrenhal had become incredibly close. From childhood friends to something you couldn’t really put your finger on.

His embrace was where you felt safest in the privacy of his chambers, his hands holding you as if you were made of glass, your own mapping out the scars that decorated his skin, memories left behind of the battles he had fought.

Your titles would be forgotten and conversation would flow freely. Sometimes a kiss or two was shared but nothing more. And yet, you knew it was most definitely more than friends.

He sighed heavily before smiling down you, letting his knuckles caress your cheek, ‘I only worry for you princess. That is all.’

‘But, I think I may call for the Maester once I have a nap. I’m feeling rather tired suddenly.’

‘As you wish my lady.’

His arm was out for you before you could ready yourself to stand up, gripping his forearm as you stood to your feet, his hand settling briefly on the small of your back to make sure you were steady before letting you go ahead.

But as you made your way back towards the Red Keep, you knew something was amiss. You felt light, your sight fogged as if tears glazed your eyes. You let your head fall back and looked up through your lashes, the sky a smear of blues and clouds like a child’s painting.

And then your world began to spin.

‘H-Harwin?’

You were unconscious before your legs gave way, too far gone to feel a pair of arms wrap around you as you crumpled to the ground.

Even in his condition, Viserys was fast as he limped down the corridor, Rhaenyra running ahead as the guards hurried to catch up to them.

They burst through the doors of your room, coming upon the sight of the maids bustling around the bed, a Maester standing over you as you lay in bed.

‘Y/N?!’

Rhaenyra rushed to your side, ignoring the cries of the maids and Maester to stay away as she sat close to your side. The breath left her as she took in the sight of you.

Your skin had paled from its beautiful glow to a dull grey, sweat glistening across your skin. The soft wheeze that left your lips every so often caught her attention, watching the low rise and fall of your chest. Even your hair had darkened from a beautiful white to ash.

She gripped your hand in hers, pressing a kiss to it as Viserys hobbled to your bedside, a cloth held up to his mouth. ‘What is the matter with my daughter? I want an answer now!’

‘The Princess is down with influenza my King.’ The Maester was brave enough to speak up, coming to his side. Viserys looked at him in horror.

‘How did this happen? She was perfectly healthy this morning at breakfast!’

The old man sighed. ‘Unfortunately, it is a wicked sickness that can turn fatal very quickly if not treated properly.’

‘Is there anything we can do for her now?’ Rhaenrya, who had been quietly listening to the Maester, asked, unable to tear her eyes away from her sister.

‘I have given her the necessary medicines needed to treat such a sickness your Highness. For now we watch and pray that she makes it through the night, only then will we be able to tell how severe this really is.’

She nodded before Viserys looked around the room. ‘Who found Y/N? She was in the gardens this morning when I last saw her.’

‘She was your Majesty. The Commander was the one who was with her. He who brought her here and took care of her before I arrived.’

It was only then that the King and Rhaenyra finally caught sight of the man in the corner of the room, stock still as a statue, his eyes trained on the young woman now lying in bed barely moving.

For how big he was, Harwin had moved like lighting through the Red Keep after you had collapsed, carrying your limp body in his arms and ignoring those who whispered and gasped.

Had barked orders at the maids who had been moving about your room, ordering for the Maester and for the King and Princess be notified of your current state.

He had immediately moved you to the bed, and with caution to thrown to the wind, removed the thick layers of your dress to leave you in your shift. Only when the Maester arrived had he backed off, fading into the corner of the room to observe.

The King gave a nod to the Commander, words failing him as he looked to his youngest daughter once more. Pressing the cloth firmly over his mouth, he leant down, pressing his forehead against yours.

‘Oh my darling girl, my sweet little one …’

Tears immediately filled Rhaenyra’s eyes as a mere whimper left your lips, gripping her father’s hand where it rested over yours.

After their mother had passed, the two sisters made it their duty to remain close with their father, making the most of every day as his own sickness worsened.

Losing mother was the greatest heartbreak, Rhaenyra knew if her father lost you too, it would surely be the death of him, and her too.

The Maester shepherded everyone out of the room, looking towards the Commander who remained. He placed a hand on his shoulder, ‘Come now Ser Harwin. All we can do for now is let her rest and pray she makes it through the night.’

With a small push to his back, Harwin was led out of the room, his eyes remaining on you surrounded by your family, even as the door shut.

The light had long faded from the skies as Harwin found himself pacing his room. It had been a few days since you had fainted in his arms, and still no word came with any improvements.

He tried to distract himself; tried training, reading a book, visiting the garrison.

Yet all he could think of was you, laying in your bed and barely breathing.

It brought memories of his own mother to mind, how as a young boy had stood in the doorway of his parents room.

He had watched as his father tearfully whispered sweet words of goodbyes to his mother who lay cradled in his arms, her breath rattling and then fading into silence.

Harwin couldn’t bare to watch another woman he loved so dearly perish the same way.

First he visited the kitchens brightly lit by the torches alight, the fire dancing across the walls. The cooks and kitchen maids giving him a smile before returning to their duties.

The head cook, Mrs Crooke, who had been in the midst of mixing a bowl of some sort of sauce, cheered at the sight of him, ambandoning her tools to embrace him heartily.

‘My dear laddy look at you! Commander of the City Watch visiting little old me.’ She cried, cupping his cheek with a large grin.

Harwin smiled, placing his hand over the woman’s. ‘Its good to see you again Mrs Crooke but I must ask you a favour. The Princess Y/N is incapacitated at the moment.’

Her hand fell to her heart, nodding, ‘Aye, we’ve heard she’s been taken ill the poor Lass.’

‘Well, that’s exactly why I’ve come to you.’

She raised her eyebrow in question and he continued, ‘I was wondering perhaps your broth would be able to help. I know she wouldn’t be able to eat anything heavy she wouldn’t be able to keep it down, so something light may at least keep her well for the time being.’

The old woman couldn’t help but smile, taking in the mistiness of the Commander’s eyes and worry written in his expression. She took his hand in hers. ‘You care for her don’t you lad?’

Harwin wanted to deny it.

If anyone found out it would be seen as incredibly out of line, even treasonous. He didn’t care what happened to him, he just didn’t want to see Y/N hurt or unhappy. And yet, in that moment, he couldn’t help but nod.

Mrs Crooke nodded, immediately turning to the other kitchen maids with a clap of her hands.

‘Take over here ladies, a special order is needed for the Princess Y/N!’

Harwin made his way to Y/N’s chambers, armour now removed, carefully holding a marble bowl of cold water, a cloth thrown over his arm. The guard that stood at your chambers briefly looked at him, Harwin recognising him as one of his own men, he nodded to him.

‘I’m here to attend to the Princess.’

For a moment the guard hesitated, and fear brewed within the Commander’s belly.

He trusted his men, however he knew that no matter how loyal a man could be to his duty, a price could always overturn it. There were spies and traitors working for the corrupt within Kings Landing, they easily could spin this mere event into something far worse.

However, the fear ebbed away as soon as the guard nodded to him, opening the door for him.

Harwin quickly made his way over to the bedside, placing the bowl down. His glanced nervously over to you.

Sweat drenched your shift, hair matted against your face. The rasp in your lungs had worsened, and it made his heart clench as you gasped for air, groaning deliriously.

‘Oh my love,’ He whispered, pushing your hair away from your face, pressing his palm to your cheek. Your eyes briefly flickered towards him, sighing before falling quiet once more.

Harwin couldn’t help but press his lips to your temple in comfort, heart clenching at the warmth that prickled beneath his lips.

Quickly he picked up the cloth he had brought, folding it before dipping it into the water, letting it soak for a moment before bringing it to your skin. A whimper left your lips but he pressed on, wiping away any trace of sweat that he could see.

Leave the cloth to rest on your head, he reached into the pouch on his belt pulling out a small vial of oil. Pouring a generous amount into the centre of his palm, rubbing his hands together, eyes never leaving your face as you rested.

Harwin leant over you letting his hands rest against your neck, unable to hold back his smile as you keened beneath his touch. He began to massage around your jaw, your neck and just above your collarbones.

His hands wondered down your arms to your hands, taking one in his grasp and letting his thumb follow the lines that were etched into your palm before taking the other and doing the same.

‘Ser Harwin!’ He turned to find one of the young maids at the door, ‘i’m sorry I didn’t think anyone would be here Commander! I just came to check in on the Princess.’

He gave her a nod in greeting, standing to his feet.

‘At ease Maisley, it’s okay. I’m seeing to that the Princess is well looked after. Her fever has gone down considerably since I arrived. I would suggest helping her change into a new shift, she may grow uncomfortable when she awakens.’

She nodded, hurrying around the room. Even when she brought over the partition to obscure the bed from sight, Harwin turned his back to it, not wanting to make either of the ladies uncomfortable.

When a cough disrupted the silence, he looked up at the sight of one of the kitchen hands carrying a tray in the doorway.

‘The broth you requested Commander,’ The young boy announced, nodding to the black pot that sat beside the bowl of steaming broth, ‘Mrs Crooke also thought it best to also give some mint ginger tea, said it would help get her back to health in no time.’

‘Thank you, and give my thanks to Mrs Crooke once more. Let her know I will visit as soon as the moment arises,’ He said as he took it with a smile, the boy bowed to him before making his way out of the room.

Harwin placed the tray down on the bedside table once Maisley began to move the partition away to reveal you adorning a new shift, replacing the old one which she held in her grasp. She turned to the Commander.

‘Will that be all Ser Harwin? Anything else you may need?’

He smiled towards her. ‘Not at the moment thank you Maisley, go get some rest.’

The young maid bowed to him before also taking her leave, shutting the door firmly behind her.

‘Harwin?’

Whipping around, he found you staring up at him sluggishly, eyes barely open, a hand reaching out to him.

‘I’m here my love, I’m right here,’ He caressed your cheek, eyes softening as you even in your sickened state, leant into his touch.

You smiled up at him, but it faded as you took in your shift, the heaviness of your chest evident, glancing around to recognise your own chambers.

‘What happened? I-I remember us in the gardens and—’

‘It’s okay Y/N, you're safe.’ He hushed you, turning your face towards his, keeping his hand on your neck to keep you steady. ‘You were ill and fainted, I brought you to your room and the Maester took a look at you.’

Slowly the panic eased from your body, leaning back into the warmth of your bed, watching as Harwin picked up the steaming bowl from your bedside table.

‘You must eat, you need to keep your strength up.’

‘I’m not hungry Harwin, I’m just so sleepy …’

‘How about you eat just a little, then you can get some more rest? For my sake?’

You chuckled quietly at his child-like request, carefully trying to sit up. Harwin was quick to assist, a brief squeak leaving you as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you up to lean against the headboard and adjusting the pillow to accomodate you.

When you reached for the spoon, he was quick to pull away with a shake of his head and wearing a smirk, bringing the warm spoon to your lips.

‘I may be sick, Harwin, but I am not lame,’ You croaked only for your words to splutter as you coughed roughly, feeling his hand rub soothingly across your back.

When the coughing lessened, and your wheezing quietened, Harwin gently said as he brushed your hair back, ‘That may be so, but let me take care of you my love.’

Too tired to resist, you allowed him to feed a few spoons of broth. Even with your mouth feeling dry and tastebuds dulled, you enjoyed the rich chicken, rosemary and thyme that broke through; munching quietly on some of the carrots, potatoes and onion as he watched attentively.

Soon enough the bowl was empty, and Harwin was setting it aside before easing you back against the bed, your eyes now drooping sleepily. As he pulled back, your hand shot to his, gripping his fingertips weakly.

‘Please don’t go Harwin …’ You gasped, ‘I-I don’t want to be alone.’

Harwin’s heart broke, bending so he was looking into your eyes. ‘I’ll be only a moment darling, I just want to stoke the fire.’

‘Hmm, it is cold ...’ You whimpered. Harwin’s brow furrowed quickly placing the back of his hands against your forehead only to curse. Your fever had returned, and worse it seemed.

Quickly, he rushed around the room. Tossing a few new logs and kindling into the grand fireplace, he stoked at the flames until it was roaring and heat swarmed the room.

Returning to kneel at your side, he grabbed the soaking cloth once more, gently dabbing it across your face. A trembling cry left your lips, a tear slipping down your cheek.

‘Please don’t leave me ...’

‘I’ll be here beloved,’ He whispered shakily against your cheek where he laid a soft kiss, running his fingertips through your hair. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Leaning his forehead against yours, he silently prayed, asking the seven—or whatever force was present—to stay their hand and leave you be. He wouldn’t allow them to take you so easily.

The next morning after yet another restless night of anxious thoughts, Rhaenyra accompanied her father towards her sisters room like she had for the last few days.

When she had tried to get closer to aid Y/N where she could, the Maesters and maids held her back, not wanting the heir to the throne to avoid potentially catching the sickness.

It had angered her that she could not help her sister, instead ordering those who were present to do all they could for her. She could only hope that her sister had made improvement.

When the door to your chambers opened, a gasp left Rhaenyra’s lips, but this time out of shocked delight.

You were now sitting up in bed with your hair tied back sipping at what she presumed to be tea, revealing the colour that had returned to your cheeks, wearing a smile at the sight of your father and sister.

Just like days previous, Rhaenyra ran to her sister ignoring the cries of the maids and Maesters, jumping across the bed to pull you into a fierce, tight hug. You couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning your cheek against her head.

‘Sister you are fool to let yourself get ill so easily!’ Your sister cried, shaking you as if to bring clarity to your mind.

Smiling, you pulled away to look at her, only to sigh at the tears evident in her eyes. You pressed your hands to her cheeks. ‘I am sorry I worried you Nyra. You know how stubborn I can get in my own ways.’

Rhaenyra couldn’t help but shake with quiet laughter before pressing her lips to your forehead, letting your head rest on her shoulder.

At the sound of a familiar cane striking against stone, you looked up to see your father at your side, tears streaming down his face.

‘Oh father!’

Pulling away once more from your sister, you embraced your father, tears of your own springing to your eyes as his hand came up to run through your hair, also pressing a kiss to your forehead.

‘My dear sweet girl,’ He whispered to you, ‘thank the gods that you are okay!’

‘There is someone you should thank though father.’

When your father pulled away in confusion, you nodded with a smile towards the man that once more stood in the far corner, hands clasped in front of him as he observed the room.

‘The Commander nursed me back to health. Had broth made and brought to me, eased my fever, and watched over me during the night.’

Harwin gave a nod to you, deep shadows sat beneath his eyes, tiredness straining at his limbs, but he would do it all over again just to see the way you smiled at him.

‘Ser Harwin,’ Viserys limps towards the Commander, leaning heavily on his cane as his hand came down on the man’s shoulder, ‘Thank you my boy. I will forever be in your debt for taking such care of my daughter.’

Harwin smiled briefly, bowing to the King. ‘Not at all your majesty, I only do what is best to keep the Princess safe as it is my duty. I’ve dealt with a lot of sickness in my life, I did not want to see her go through the same suffering that I’ve seen others go through. I must say, the Princess has an enduring spirit, she fought hard.’

You ducked your head with a shy smile, feeling a sudden nudge to look up at Rhaenyra who raised her eyebrow with a small smirk and you couldn’t help but giggle, hiding your face against her shoulder.

It was a day later you found yourself fully recovered, out of bed and dressed in a stunning blue dress, you left the confines of your room.

After some business had been attended to, you rushed out of your father’s room with excitement. Harwin stood in the corridor, his head turning towards you as you rushed towards him.

‘Ser Harwin, it is good to see you on such a beautiful day.’

‘Princess,’ He bowed his head in greeting to you with a smile, ‘I’m happy to see you doing so well.’

Quickly looking around, you took his hand, pulling him along with you. At first he was hesitant, looking around once more before following you into a small alcove, dimly lit by the sunshine that fell through from the corridor.

You turned to him, nervously picking at your nails as you glance up at him. ‘I wanted to thank you for taking care of me Harwin.’

‘Princess—‘ At your raised eyebrow, he corrected himself, ‘Y/N you do not need to thank me.’

‘But I do, because I know you didn’t need to take care of me the way you did. I need to know ... why you did it.’

For a moment he stared at you silently before sighing. Stepping forward slowly he removed his gloves tucking them into his belt, taking your hand into his.

‘Seeing you in that bed brought back memories I never want to see again. My mother s-she,’ He closed his eyes briefly before looking down at you, ‘She died of influenza. I watched her leave us in the arms of my father, the one woman able to ease his heart gone in a matter of days. And I couldn’t let you go.’

You felt his thumb trace the lines of your palm, but your eyes did not stray from his, your hand immediately reaching for his cheek to wipe away the tears that fell.

Leaning into your touch, he tipped your chin up as he brought his forehead to yours. ‘I couldn’t lose the woman I love to that, not again. You are the one thing that gives me meaning and purpose. Upon my vow, I will do everything in my power to ensure you are safe and loved.’

A small gasp left your lips after hearing his words, his breath batting against your skin. Without hesitating, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, your hand still resting against his cheek.

Sighing against your lips, Harwin’s hand fell from your chin to rest against your waist pulling you even closer. When you parted, his nuzzled his nose against yours affectionately making you laugh.

‘Oh how I missed that sound.’

You smiled sweetly up at him, pushing away the wild curls that obscured his beautiful eyes from your sight.

‘I went to see my father today, told him of my desire to marry you,’ You whispered against his lips, smiling as he pulled away in shock, ‘I must warn you, Rhaenyra also has put in a good word for you to him. She believes you’ve already proved yourself enough.’

Harwin felt as if he was in a dream, the blood thumping in his veins fuelled by the happiness that wrapped around his heart.

‘Have I ever told you how I love you?’

You laughed, gripping his hand between you. ‘You showed with your actions, they spoke so loudly and showed me how incredible of a man you are. One that I would like to have as my husband.’

Harwin smiled widely, letting his head fall to your neck. You couldn’t help but giggle as his nose brushed your skin, lips pressing against below your collarbone where he felt the pulse of your heartbeat.

A loud squeal left your lips as his arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off your feet, spinning you around laughing heartily.

As history came to pass, people would know how Harwin Strong’s greatest honour was the love he held for his wife, Princess Y/N Targaryen and their children. And from that day onward, as he had vowed, Harwin protected, loved and ensured your happiness for the rest of your days.

harwin masterlist - masterlist

a/n: this turned out SO much longer than I expected it to.

tagged (if your tag isn't working DM me and we'll try and fix it up!): @thesithdiaries @dazecrea @ppeuppeuppeu @a-sunflower-in-bloom @ladystrongofharrenhall @ccallistata @agoldin @vivilingme-blog @my-dark-prince @derzauberermitlilabademantel @blooomsstuff @starxdame @alexslittlegirl @budugu @piper570 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @words-way-of-life @m1tzifa1ry @gibbsgirl7 @b0xfullofdarkness @hueanhdang @criesinsagitarius @nicolewithanee @starxqt @ateliefloresdaprimavera @akilababs @lakamaa12 @iwillboilyourteeth @littlebirdgot @venus2eros @akinatrix @rainazinha @missusnora @hadesismybaby-reacts @lucyysthings @whiterosesblackroses @b3nzeynep @rosemalachi

2K notes · View notes