#interested bordering on fascinated

[rigil-kentauris]

Wolmeric Week 2024 - Day 5 - Time Apart

ao3 link

The Warrior of Light turns to leave off into the sunset for an unknowably long journey to unite the star and save the world, again.

Aymeric panics. He grabs the Enguerran's hand at the last minute.

“Write me,” he blurts.

Enguerran tilts his head. “Uh,” he says awkwardly. “Okay?”

Aymeric frets incessantly for an entire day. Had he misinterpreting things? He hadn’t. He can’t have. They’d had dinner. Acquaintances have dinner all the time. Enguerran had arrived in transparent ribbed leggings with a slim-cut coat that had a socially indecent number of buttons undone up top. The Warrior of Light was an Ul’dah trained weaver who once, or so it was said, publicly and frequently wore grape-purple subligar out on the open streets. Aymeric had never said what he’d thought’d they were, but, well, they’d kissed, hadn’t they? Held hands? He blushes. He’d wanted more than that. He'd thought Enguerran had wanted more than that. Was he wrong? He shouldn't have asked. Three moons ‘till their ship is due in the East, and it’s a long time to wait, but he’ll write back and send it on the very next ship, he will, he’ll fix it, he’ll say-

His private linkpearl chimes. Enguerran is on the other end, with the sound of sailors singing and lines snapping and waves spraying.

Ah, Aymeric thinks.

He puts it out of his mind. He forces it out of his mind. He doesn’t think about it any further, until the first letter from Kugane arrives moons later, dated to the very day Enguerran left Ishgard, and it reads:

To my dearest most darling lover who did panic and forget he does not live in a period Ishgardian romance novel where no-one has any clue what a linkpearl is-

Aymeric slowly and carefully deposits his head on his writing table.

He’ll live – there’s an entire, thick, perfumed letter from the Warrior of Light on his desk to entice him, after all -

But first, he’s going to spend some time on his desk.

[mochinomnoms]

I read a book yesterday that had one of the character telling another, “Your teeth are sharp, you have a predator’s instincts, and your blood is howling.” And I think using that to flirt with Floyd would work wonders.

(The book was ‘Devil’s Candy’ btw)

I'm so sorry to argue against this, but I actually think Floyd would kinda hate anything poetic when it comes to flirting? He strikes me as someone who prefers bluntness and honesty from someone. If you're flirting with him? Tell him that straight up! If you like him, don't hide with flowery words, he's upfront (mostly) with his feelings all the time! It might be at other's expense, but still!

Or be mean to him. He get's a kick out of it. Also kick his ass. If you do it successfully, he's gonna be chasing after you to either make out or try and kick your ass in return. And then make out.

[fatehbaz]

Ecologies of Imperialism in Algeria, by Brock Cutler, begins with an account of food poisoning in nineteenth-century French Algeria. A deep rural crisis of drought and famine in the late 1860s had reduced the amount of fuelwood coming into the city of Algiers, leading one baker to use construction debris shipped to the colony from Paris to fire his bread oven in early 1869. The lead paint on that metropolitan rubble, product of Baron Haussmann’s transformation of the French capital, became a toxic element in the bread that sickened settlers in the colony. The author [...] treats this small episode as a microcosm of the divides, the unruly circulations, and the nonhuman actants and processes that characterized the early decades of colonial rule in Algeria, which the French invaded in 1830.

These divisions and circulations include those between metropole and colony, between modern and not modern, between person and environment, between human and nonhuman, and across the colonial frontier with Tunisia. [...]

---

The first [of three major narrative veins in Cutler's study involves] [...] bread [...], the consumption of wheat grown on the Mediterranean plains of Algeria [...]. The toxic bread affair of 1869, however, was a reminder that the distance between metropole and colony was not so great. [...] The second vein examines the production of new ecosystem relations [...]. [T]he violence of decades of uneven conquest and the confiscation, appropriation, and enclosure of land and its reorientation toward regional and international [European] markets between 1830 and 1870 thoroughly destabilized rural Algerian life. This fragility turned lethal in the final years of the 1860s, when a series of environmental crises - locust plagues and drought - caused widespread famine and ultimately the deaths of up to eight hundred thousand Algerians. [...] The emptied land and cheap labor that were outcomes of the environmental crises enabled [France] to complete the capitalist transformation of rural Algeria [...]. Another outcome of the environmental crisis was an increase in the number of rural Algerians migrating to cities, where they were perceived as both a threat to public order and a reservoir of potential labor energy. [...]

[D]ivisionary logics, including the line between city and countryside and the modern gendered subject, were being performed, produced, and reproduced in the context of environmental crisis.

---

[Another] major element [in Cutler's scholarship] [...] is an exploration of the complex politics of policing French Algeria’s eastern border with Tunisia, in the era before French colonial rule began in the latter polity in 1881. [...] [T]his border, officially demarcated in 1846, was only integrated into local ecosystem relations over the course of subsequent decades. Repeated performance of sovereignty through patrols and taxation of pastoral communities that lived and worked in the frontier commons instantiated the border, but the border region remained resistant to the forms of modern statecraft, such as standardization, bureaucratization, and written transactions, that French authorities preferred. [...] [Cutler] draws on intentionally “mundane” examples to show how they were critical to the steady reproduction of a modern imperial border (p. 47). [...] [A specific] episode of transborder [dispute] [...] in 1869 [...] became a referndum within the settler community on the virtues of military rule and a reminder for that [European] community of [supposed] indigenous incompatability with modernity. [...]

[T]he various divisions illuminated by the story - between modern and not, between inside and outside, and between European and Algerian - were performances staged at various times and places, not eternal features of the society or landscape. The repetition of “divisionary logics,” in the author’s telling, were at the heart of French colonial modernity (p. 149). [...]

---

[T]horough reading of the French colonial archive, from official sources as well as memoirs, newspapers, and periodicals [...], [t]he first two narrative threads, on bread and disaster, demonstrate the significance of moments of crisis [...] in actually changing the course of history [...] [and] longer-term [...] ecological transformations. The other thread, however, examines how the mundane performance of modern sovereign power and its divisionary logics, over time, made real or even naturalized the new imperial frontier between Algeria and Tunisia. Both [...] society-wide crises or the steady performance of the mundane logics of power [...].

---

All text above by: Jackson Perry. "Review of Cutler, Brock. Ecologies of Imperialism in Algeria". H-Environment, H-Net Reviews. April 2024. Published online at: h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=59842. [Text within brackets added by me for clarity. Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[talentforlying]

fun to think about the time that constantine went up to eden in the context of my good omens verse. imagine finding out this pasty british dickhead went and buried some of his hair in the sacred garden you used to protect.

[mercyburned-aa]

the urge to write h.u t.ao is rising

[oldmanlusting]

Biting the bars of my mental cage

[zillychu]

I’ve gotten a WAVE of asks about this AU, so I decided to flesh it out some more and answer some of those questions!

I’ll probably polish this extended summary up at some point and submit it to AO3. But for now, here’s a rundown of my thoughts–please feel free to send more questions! I’ll update this post if I get any more. But if you’re someone who wanted to write fic for it, don’t worry, you don’t need to take my headcanons as gospel. It’s a pretty basic AU honestly lol

Summary:

The portal accident results in a violent explosion that wipes out the whole block, and condemns all of Amity Park. Danny haunts the city for 100 years, before Sam and Tucker find him. 

Setup:

In the 1920’s, 19-year-old Danny went into the incomplete portal on his own, hoping to help out his parents. Ripping the portal open through unnatural means created a huge burst of energy that resulted in a massive explosion. A good portion of the Amity Park population died, many were injured, and the ones on the fringes relocated–Amity was quickly deemed too dangerous due to the excess ectoplasm in the area that attracted ghosts. 

While the disaster was in Amity, the fallout was seen around the globe. Before, natural portals were rare, short-lived, and rarely allowed ghosts to fully slip into our realm (the most severe cases being on par with poltergeists that most people didn’t believe in). Now, natural portals pop open frequently around the world, large enough to allow the entirety of a ghost into the physical plane. They’re more common the closer you get to Amity, but they happen enough elsewhere that this change was something of a small apocalypse before people settled back down and found out how to combat at least some of their new, permanent neighbors. 

Danny is unaware that he’s only half-dead, believing he’s a full ghost. He ends up sticking around Amity, unintentionally making it his haunt. His grief and guilt over causing the death of his loved ones (and many others) makes him isolate and avoid human contact. Though he has, at times, scared nosy people away from the city in a mix of territorial instinct–and to get them to leave before a less friendly ghost finds them. 

Ghosts are much more of an uncontested danger in this AU. Lesser ghosts are practically mindless, and while stronger ghosts are capable of reason, their interests are limited. They’re highly territorial, possessive, and often destructive. Most worrisome is that they also like to snack on the life force of anything alive. No one is sure what dictates a ghost’s propensity to attack or hunt the living for their life force since ghosts don’t exactly experience hunger. At least, not the way we do. If a human is rescued before their life force is fully drained, they can make a full recovery–though humanity has still not yet found what this “life force" is. 

And since the Fentons’ research died along with them, there aren’t many tools available to the public to protect them from ghosts. Most homes have standard ghost shields and some weapons are available on the market, but certified ghost hunters are required to take care of anything more powerful than your average spook. 

Sam and Tucker met in high school, and are now rooming together for college very close to the Amity border. Rent is surprisingly cheap when you’re a stone’s throw away from a condemned area crawling with ghosts. Sam is the one who drags Tucker along with her fascination over finding out more about the city, and its largely mysterious demise. Sam is aware of the danger, but feels ghosts have a place in this world just like everything else, and does exercise caution–like one would while foraging in the woods with a known tiger population. 

What she and Tucker weren’t expecting was to run into a ghost that felt almost human. One that hasn't hurt them, not for lack of trying–while being powerful enough to walk past ghost shields without so much as a flinch. The long white hair is familiar in the whispers of the ectobiologist community, but there’s no way it could be the rumored ghost king Phantom, right?

About Danny:

He has very long hair, claws, and black sclera. His hazmat suit is more torn and ragged, with exposed hands and feet that fade into a burnt black.

His hair tends to float a lot on its own. It can start morphing into fire under duress. 

He does still technically have gloves and boots, they've just charred and melted into his skin towards the ends. He can't take them off in his ghost form. His hands and feet have a leathery texture that's tougher than the rest of his skin.

The white of his hazmat suit is both supposed to look like flames, and also a battered look representing his more violent, explosive death.

Overall, he appears rather listless and sad, with an unnerving air of danger around him–even for a ghost. 

Danny’s “ghost sense” comes out as white smoke.

He does breathe black smoke at times, usually when agitated. 

He's already fought and defeated Pariah Dark by the time Sam and Tucker find him, technically making him the Ghost King. This is heavily speculated by ghost experts, despite there being no real proof beyond a massive battle that scarred Illinois. He has not donned the Ring or the Crown, and captured sentient ghosts are hesitant to answer questions surrounding him. Danny basically has the throne but doesn’t do anything with it, and finds it meaningless enough to routinely forget he has the title. He only fought Pariah because he knew otherwise, humanity would have perished. A lot of ghosts are scared of him because he's so hard to figure out, and he's strong. 

Danny is usually very quiet and speaks softly, because his lungs were damaged in the blaze that half-killed him. He's technically healed since becoming a ghost, so it's more of a compulsion due to the traumatic memory. That, and he’s just… very forlorn and distant, shy around humans who don’t seem to understand how dangerous it is to keep hanging around him.

His memories pre-accident are extremely fuzzy. He knows the very basics of who he was, but specifics have been muffled due to trauma and isolation. He routinely forgets human habits, etiquette, etc. and tends to act more like a full ghost with some odd quirks. 

He does try to scare Sam and Tucker off numerous times. Unfortunately for him, they realized they shouldn't have been able to escape a ghost that strong–but they did, because he let them. 

Sam and Tucker think he's mute at first! He doesn't speak a word to them until several encounters later, when he fumbles his whole scary act and saves them from another ghost. 

He’s still half-ghost, though he doesn’t figure this out until Sam and Tucker come along trying to unravel the mysteries behind the Amity catastrophe. Physically and emotionally, he’s been stuck for 100 years–so his human form is still 19. It’s unclear at this point if he can age normally like a human as long as he stays in human form, or if he’s immortal. 

Danny's family did not turn into ghosts, though he sometimes worries he'll find them in the afterlife as shells of their former selves. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's not sure he'd recognize them. 

(Danny also still has some living family. Take a guess.)

Yes, he knows how to Wail. Understandably, he very rarely uses it. You do not want to witness this.

Danny :) is not immune :) from the allure of eating a human's life force :)))

[koemiexists]

Perfect Gift | Alastor x Fem Reader

summary: you receive a gift from alastor after residing in the hotel for a month word count: 3.7k tags: smut, cream pie, voice kink, love bites

Recently, you have been noticing just how enchanting Pentagram City is, with the way it seemed to pull you forward. Residing in the Pride Ring as a sinner, you never got to see past that ring. 

Nothing was truly new, except for what was occurring around the Morningstar District, as some sinners pegged it. You usually reside in the inner city, near the Heaven Ambasade. 

Towards the border of the Morningstar District, on an elevated ground was what seemed to be a hotel, and you could just barely make out the words. Hazbin Hotel .

It seemed interesting, it intrigued you. And the best part, it was something new.

Now, if you were one for TV, you’d probably have heard about the Hotel way sooner from a news reporter Katie Killjoy, but you find it much more fascinating to listen to the radio, old fashion, but it’s something you enjoyed.

You guess that if it wasn’t for your constant urge to try new things, you likely wouldn’t have ended up in this mess. Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to hate where you turned up. 

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” A feminine voice said, and you thought you could vaguely hear just how bright it was. You watched as Charlie Morningstar, the princess of Hell, next to the throne, jumped in your space, her eyes shining. “Are you a wayward sinner in hopes of being redeemed!? Are you here for a chance to make it to Heaven, to have your soul be cleansed of your sins?”

Redemption? You weren't too sure it was possible, but if Charlie, the daughter of Lucifer, believed it so wholeheartedly... Perhaps there was a chance.

“I never really thought about being redeemed,” You admit quietly, looking up at the tall hellborn. Why was she so tall? Was her father even taller then? Your internal dialogue was cut short when she gasped.

“No? Never?” She inquired, bending her knees slightly, her eyes crinkling a bit knowingly at your height difference predicament. 

Truly is the daughter of the Devil , you thought with a frown. “No, not really. I came here because I was interested, if I’m being honest.” You felt embarrassed, you didn’t want to turn away after how excited Charlie seemed. “But... now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind being redeemed.”

Charlie’s smile grew wider, and with a tug, you found yourself in the hotel, feeling a bit dizzy, albeit excited at what you were getting into. 

You saw her take a deep breath, and gather the other members around. “This is Vaggie-” A young woman comes into view, and you furrow your brows, wondering why she looks different from the others you see in Hell. Almost like an-

“Angel Dust is the name! Nice to meet ya, toots,” A spider looking demon grins at you, and you felt your face flush, knowing exactly where you heard the name, and saw him from. You never watched his porn movies voluntarily, but you have heard about him countless times from your coworkers.

Charlie smiles, and points towards a bar. “There’s Husk, and we have our maid, Nifty!” 

“Forgetting someone?” Vaggie mentioned, rolling her eye.

The woman furrowed her brows, wondering just who she was missing. “Oh! You’re right! I don’t know where he is right now, but there’s also Alastor, our facility manager!”

At that moment, you felt a presence behind you, yelping as you fell. From the ground, an inky darkness rose into the form of a tall demon, a large grin present on his face. “You called?” He spoke, and you felt a sharp tingle go through your body at the sound of his voice, staticky but also pleasant.

Charlie smiled. “Yup, that’s Alastor!” She spoke, helping you up. 

“Ah- Nice to meet you all. I’m (Name).” You spoke, feeling shaken up still. 

“(Name)?” Alastor spoke, his grin widening as he walked over to you. “Well it is just a pleasure to be meeting you. You’re here to be redeemed, dear?” He questioned, and you can only mumble a yes, cheeks flushing.

Charlie was about to speak again, before her phone rang loudly, and she let out a quiet groan. “Who is... Dad? Ugh, alright! Vaggie, Alastor, can you please show (Name) around? And (Name), sorry for not being the one to give you a tour! I have to take this call.” She gave you an apologetic smile, before walking off, answering the phone.

You notice Vaggie had an annoyed expression, but it was quickly wiped off as she turned to you. “Well let’s get this tour going. At the end we’ll show you your quarters, (Name).” 

“Alright,” Smiling, you follow Vaggie, keenly aware of Alastor trailing behind you two. 

“...And this is the kitchen, Nifty usually cooks, but as long as you aren’t absolutely horrible at it, we don’t mind if you use it. Here’s-” Vaggie pauses, taking out her phone, squinting her eye at it. “Sorry,” She apologized, as she backed up. “Charlie needs me right now. Alastor? Finish the tour for (Name), please.” 

With that she left, leaving just you and Alastor, whose grin sharpened. “Well, it’s just you and me now!” He laughed, beginning to walk forward as you trailed behind. 

You stayed silent, before your curiosity fully peaked, leaving you unable to keep your mouth shut. “Your cane,” You started, feeling Alastor’s gaze on you even though you were looking down. “What’s it for?” 

“What do you think it is for?” He questioned back, watching as you fumbled your words.

“Well- I just thought it was for aesthetics-”

Alastor let out a laugh. “Only for appearances? Well darling, it allows me to broadcast my voice.”

Your brows furrow, confused. “Is that all it does?” You inquire, wondering if you’ll get more information. “Wait- broadcast...?”

His smile broadens as he watches you expressively piece it together. “I heard your broadcasts before!” You sputtered, and then you froze. “Oh my gosh. You’re the Radio Demon , aren’t you...”

“Correct! I am.” He said with glee, as he opened a door, pointing inside with his cane. “A gentleman will never enter a woman’s quarters without permission,” Alastor spoke, looking at you.

“This is my room...? Already?” You murmured, as you walked in, noting how it was already furnished.

Alastor let out a huff of laughter, the radio effect increasing slightly. “Darling, you didn’t seriously expect many sinners to be rushing to reside here, now do you?” 

You frown, crossing your arms. “Charlie believes in this idea. Who's to say it’s not a possibility? Being redeemed seems far-fetched, yes, but I’ll gladly try and be cleansed of my sins then spit in her idea.”

“Would you still think that way?~” He sing-songed, grinning. “Charlie’s way is less than conventional, you’ll see. But if you truly wish to reside here in the path of redemption... Well, who am I to stop you?” Alastor leaned in, patting your head. Then he seemingly melted into that inky darkness you saw, watching as it went down the hall.

“Weird.” You huffed, rubbing your eyes. You were exhausted, mentally and physically, and the fluffy bed seemed to be calling your name.

“(Name)!” Charlie yelled, watching as you yelped, falling from your bed. “Great, you’re awake.”

You grumbled softly. “Only because you yelled. I was sleeping, peacefully.”

She grinned. “Not anymore. Besides, it’s good to be an early riser!” 

The princess helped you up, and began going through your closet. “I think you’re due for a trip outside the hotel. You have clothes, but...” Charlie frowned, wrinkling her nose as she took out an article of clothing that was at least a few hundred years old. “They’re old.”

“Yeah,” You yawned. “It’s ‘cause I never made enough truly besides the necessities. I couldn’t really splurge.”

Charlie gasped, turning to you. “You couldn’t? Well- we need you to! This is actually sad.” She began to think, before snapping her fingers. “Don’t worry, I know who you can borrow some clothes from!”

“Who?” You questioned, watching as Charlie tapped rapidly at her phone, then pocketing it. 

Your door opened, and you watched as Vaggie walked in, holding a few pieces of clothing. “(Name), you need some new clothes.” She said, glancing at the battered clothes. “Jeez. Your clothes are actually ugly.”

“Vaggie!” Charlie huffed, and her girlfriend smiled a little, pecking her cheek. “A kiss isn’t going to change the fact you said something so mean!” She squawked.

You groaned. “Let’s just move on from my wardrobe, alright?” 

Vaggie shrugged, putting down the clothes on your bed. “Here. You’re lucky we’re roughly the same height and size.”

Grasping the soft clothes, you note how they were very feminine. “You have pretty taste.” You remarked quietly, as you pulled at the dressing screen. 

She let out a laugh. “Thanks, (Name). I’d say the same but-” “Vaggie-!”

“-I would need to see more of your clothes.” Vaggie finished wryly, smirking.

You huffed, even though truly, you were amused. Opening your mouth to speak again, you fell silent when a knock was heard on the door. 

You heard Charlie get up, opening the door slightly. “Yes?”

“Is (Name) there?” You heard Angel ask, and you felt relieved.

“Uhm..” Charlie bit her lip, unsure if you wanted him to come in. 

You pulled the clothing screen back, revealing the flowy skirt paired with a tight blouse. “Charlie, it’s okay! Angel can come in. I’m finished changing anyways.”

Angel sauntered in, stretching. “Look at you, toots. You look awfully dolled up for how you usually dress.”

Vaggie snorted, as she got up, walking towards the door. “Charlie made her change. She had to borrow my clothes.” She said, grinning. “Anyways, Charlie and I will be downstairs if you need us, (Name).”

You watched the couple wave, shutting your bedroom door closed afterwards. 

“So,” Angel started, smirking. 

You quirked a brow, sitting down on your bed. “So,” You repeated back, folding your arms.”

He grinned. “It’s been a few weeks, how are you feelin’ staying in this hotel?”

That was something you were thinking about. It was amazing to be able to live here without needing to pay money. It also helped how nice Charlie and Vaggie were to you. 

What also was good was just how pleasant it was to listen to Alastor speak. You hid your radio in your drawer almost always, but when you heard the little crackle that was the tell-tale sign he was live, you always tuned in. 

“Good.” You said simply, smiling. “I like it here enough. It’s nice to be around welcoming people too.”

Angel laughed, moving to sit next to you, laying his head on your lap. “Does getting horny at Alastor’s voice also help?” He asked casually, laughing louder as you squeaked and pushed him off.

“I do not get horny at his voice!”

“No?” Angel probed, watching as you got even more flustered.

“Let’s just go.” You muttered, embarrassed and flushed from just the thought. Angel only smirked, walking with you down the stairs. 

It’s something that became a bit of a routine, Angel joking with you about you being attracted to Alastor’s voice, and you fervently denying it, despite it being the truth.

And then one day, while you were out with Charlie to run errands, Angel slipped up.

Alastor was already quite interested in the fact you hung out with him so frequently, especially since he only made idle chat with you, and on rare occasions sought out to make a deal for your soul.

You always declined, knowing that making a deal with Alastor would be a terrible choice, as Husk told you.

So when Angel began to talk about you to Husk in a drunken haze, he found it to be a perfect opportunity to learn more about you.

“So,” Angel spoke, slurring his words only lightly. “(Name) fell into a puddle of someone’s vomit! She told me how embarrassed she was! I told her she wasn’t alone, and how I slipped on some dude’s jizz once, but she just argued how it wasn’t the same.”

Husk snorted. “It really isn’t. One is gross, and the other is because you’re a pornstar who actually deals with bodily fluids like jizz.”

Angel rolled his eyes, drinking some more alcohol. “It’s the same sentiment though! That shit hurts. Plus, it was sticky, which is gross.”

Alastor felt his eyes twitch, ready to slink away to do something more productive, before he heard Angel speak up again.

“Hey Whiskers, did I tell you about something (Name) doesn’t tell anyone ? I only figured it out by observing!”

It was obvious Husk wanted to stop Angel from spilling your secrets, but he was also curious. “No, what happened?”

Leaning in, Angel spoke in a voice that meant to be hushed, but was regular in volume. “She finds Alastor’s voice attractive! Like, she gets absolutely flustered when listening to his broadcast- she hides a radio she owns in her drawer. She uses it only to listen to him. Isn’t that crazy?”

Alastor let out a quiet hum, static filling in the air as he slipped into the darkness, ready to use this new information.

You were exhausted from the outing with Charlie, but she insisted, stating how “a new resident’s idea on things will benefit the hotel in the future!” 

You wish you told her you didn’t want to, but it was Charlie, and she would have just sang to you in order to convince you. And needless to say, you didn’t want her singing. Slumping in your bed, you cuddled against the comforters, fully about to drift off to sleep, before you heard a light noise. Groaning, you turned over, refusing to get up, until you felt a presence. Jolting up, you saw Alastor, who was grinning widely at you. 

“And I thought the new resident was sleeping peacefully!” He laughed, twirling his cane. “Looks like she’s fully awake instead.”

You huffed. “What do you need, Alastor? I’m tired, Charlie dragged me all around Pentagram City.”

He smirked, sitting on the bed. “Well, I thought that you needed a gift.”

“Gift?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Why do I need a gift?”

“You don’t even know?” Alastor’s voice was self-satisfied as he pulled out a calendar from nowhere, tapping on it. “It’s your full month being here! That calls for a gift, don’t you think?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No.” You said flatly.

“So hostile!” He laughed, grinning even wider. “Well dear, I think you deserve one. Especially with how sweet you are to others. Almost rivaling Ms. Morningstar!” 

“I don’t believe so,” You sighed. “Charlie is insanely nice. I think I’m only a fraction of how nice she is. And I think I’m just okay to be around, everyone else is too abrasive.”

Alastor leaned closer, his smile toothy. “Abrasive? Such a big word! Only fitting for a knowledgeable lady like yourself, hmm? Although, I think you’re only so informed and enlightened by a certain radio broadcast, don’t you think so?”

You felt your blood run cold, as you slowly turned to Alastor, who’s smile widened even more at your fearful expression. “What are you talking about?” You whispered.

“What do you mean dear?” He asked, the static increasing in his voice again. “The fact that you have a radio hidden in your drawer, that you use to listen to me whenever I begin to broadcast,” He said, leaning over you as your breath began to pick up. “Or the fact you get aroused at hearing me speak? Is that why you come to me so much? To listen to me speak?”

Your breath hitched, and Alastor laughed. “Oh, it is! Aren’t you the naughty doe? Getting riled up over the sound of my voice...” He hummed, and you felt him begin to unbutton your pajama top. “Say, do you touch yourself to my voice? When I start my radio show late at night, do you wake up just to listen in?”

“I-” You let out a small whimper, arousal pooling in your lower belly as he rubbed light circles on your hips. “Sometimes-! Only some- only a little.” You spoke, fast and hushed as you gripped his arms. “Alastor-”

He smirked. “Let this be your gift, for being here for a month.” Alastor said shortly, pushing your top off. Your breath hitched, but you can’t find yourself to feel uncomfortable or angry, you wanted this so badly. To have a night with Alastor, to feel his touch in an intimate way.

“Alastor,” You spoke breathily, as he slipped his hand underneath your pajama shorts, rubbing at your wet slit.

You felt hot, your body responding to his touches extremely well, like it was made to be touched by him. 

Alastor bit at your collarbone, laving his tongue over the bite, growling lightly at the taste of blood. “Look at you. Look how your body responds to me.” His voice lost some of its static, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sound.

He laughed, and began to work a finger inside you, thrusting in and out, curling it against the spongy part deep within you. 

“Wow, you really do like my voice. You have a voice kink, (Name)? Want me to groan in your ear?” He questioned, smirking as he bit lightly on your lobe.

You huffed, moaning as quietly as you could, rolling your hips into his hand. “Damn it, Alastor.” You choked, grasping at the sheets underneath you. “ Fuck - please, please just...”

He leaned closer, obviously waiting for you to say what you wanted. “Just...?”

“Shit! Fuck me? Please?” You whimpered, an embarrassing high pitch whine emitting from you as he removed his finger. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it? I didn’t even put two fingers in you! Look at just how much arousal is covering my finger.” Alastor licked his finger, laughing. 

You mewled pitifully, needing him badly. “Fuck you,” You groaned, trying to get him to just fuck you.

Alastor let out a haughty cackle, unzipping his trousers as he pulled your hips against him. “Are you ready, darling? You wanted this so bad.”

Letting out another whine, you nod, watching as Alastor kissed and bit at your chest.

Then, in one swift motion you felt him enter you, filing you to the absolute brim. You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist, eyes shutting close as you tried to steady your breathing.

“When I fuck you,” Alastor began, his voice sharp as his hand gripped you chin, forcing you to look at him. The pain was slight, but enough for you to let out a quiet whimper. “You will look at me when I do so. You understand, (Name)?”

“Yes,” You stutter out, your walls fluttering around his cock.

Alastor hummed, waiting as he watched you tremble and try to fuck yourself onto him, a smug grin present on his face. “My poor doe,” He cooed, his voice crackling with static as he pinched your nipple. You yelped, and he laughed, kissing your neck, the very same spot he bit. 

“Hungry for me to fuck you dumb, hm? You really are a whore for me.” He murmured, kissing your lips lightly before he gripped your thighs, pulling out almost completely.

“Don’t worry my doe, I’ll make sure you get what you want.” He breathed out, his voice slightly deeper as he slammed back in you, the headboard hitting the wall roughly as his fingers clawed into your hip. 

You cried out loudly, pussy dripping all over his pelvis as he repeated the motions, rough thrusts into your willing body. “Alastor, Christ!”

He let out a quiet growl, snapping his hips into your body at a faster pace.

“The only name you shall evoke is mine. Understand?” He spoke harshly as the ever present grin became strained, the static in his voice and around him increasing as he grasped your face, staring into your eyes.

You moaned loudly, nodding pitifully, and he smirked. “Good girl.” 

Alastor began to maneuver you while thrusting slowly, your ankles pressing against his shoulders instead of his waist. He pressed a hand against your abdomen, moving at a bit faster pace, a groan escaping him. “You’re being such a good girl. ” Alastor groaned, right in your ear, and burst, whining loudly.

His own breath hitched, as he kept thrusting in your spasming heat, sucking a large bruise on your neck.

You felt your energy drain from you, overstimulated and sensitive after your orgasm, yet Alastor didn’t seem done with you yet. Groaning, you tried to pull away, legs shaking from the continued stimulation at your groin.

“You aren’t truly that foolish, right (Name)?” Alastor laughed, swiping his fingers at his tongue, before rubbing tight circles onto your clit, watching as you jerked from his touch.

Almost as if you got electrocuted, you let out a wail, pushing with all your might to get some reprieve, but the pain felt almost too good. Alastor bit your lip lightly, snickering when you began to orgasm again, squirting all over his pelvis and the bed sheets.

You jolted, twitching lightly as Alastor buried himself deep, kissing you passionately as he came inside you. You couldn’t find any stamina to pull away and turn, fully relying on the radio demon to help you.

He let out a low cackle, pulling out and zipping his trousers up again. Despite the obvious spot at his crotch from your squirting, he decided he’ll resolve it later, tucking you into bed. “Hope you enjoyed your gift, my little doe.” He murmured, fixing his hair.

“Hey, (Name)! What’s all the noise?” Charlie came bounding into your room, freezing at the sight of Alastor.

Vaggie came behind Charlie, immediately falling into a fighting stance when she noticed Alastor as well.

“Uh... Alastor,” Charlie started, trying to smile casually. “What are you doing in (Name)’s room...? And uhm, why does it smell like that?”

Alastor laughed, his expression smug. “I just gave (Name) a gift, that’s all! She’ll be fine, maybe a little sore.” He turned to you, his expression softening just a tiniest bit. “Well, ladies, I’m off to do a radio broadcast! I’ll see you two in the morning.”

[elysiansparadise]

Your Mars in their houses

🤎Your Mars in their 1st house: Your simple presence motivates them, makes them feel more confident and very capable of doing everything they want to do. Both of you may be angry at the same things and may have similar desires and goals. The physical attraction with this overlay is enhanced and both you and they are seen as very sexy, appealing and sensual people, the sexual attraction between the two can be something very obvious from the beginning. They perceive you as someone very sexual, hot and seductive, someone direct in that field who loves to chase or being chased, you make them feel really desirable. Both can challenge the other, you in particular will challenge them in some way. In sex, there is a lot of understanding between you and a lot of affinity too. They see you as a person with whom you can have sex many times in the same day, they see you as passionate and very energetic, they perceive that you have a great drive that you know exactly how to turn them on. From the first moment they saw you they felt that burning and suffocating desire towards you.

🤎Your Mars in their 2nd house: They see you as a very sensual and provocative person, they know that you take your time to explore every corner of their body and that you are very attentive to what they want as much as they are with you. They love the aftercare when being with you, it is something they deeply enjoy. They see you as a very ambitious person who looks for ways to generate money and achieve everything you set out to do. You encourage them to get out of their comfort zone and actively look for things that make them feel comfortable. With you, they feel the luxuries and comforts guaranteed. They like to feel that for a moment they belong completely to each other, and they take advantage of sexual encounters to tell you how much they want you and that you are just as much theirs as they are yours. Physical contact is something of the utmost importance to them, even if they are people who highly respect their personal space, they want to feel your body close to theirs, as it gives them an indescribable warmth to which they slowly become addicted.

🤎Your Mars in their 3rd house: You mentally stimulate them like no one has ever done, they see in you an interesting and difficult lover to captivate. Your intelligence and cunning turn them on, that way you make them feel like they have to try a little harder to get your attention. You are not predictable and they like that, you are experimental and adaptable and that amazes them. They love that you communicate directly and frankly, you say and ask for what you want without hesitating, and they will not hesitate to give you everything you communicate that you need or want. They seem intrigued by the way you act and you seem fascinated by the way they think. Both can bring new points of view, new ideas and ways of thinking. Directly or indirectly, you teach them to be more clear with what they want and not to beat around the bush when it comes to pursuing something they really want, this of course without bordering on immature and hasty. They feel that they have to be smart with their moves when you are around. 

🤎Your Mars in their 4th house: You are an engine that drives them a lot in their lives, you inspire and motivate them easily and you are capable of moving every emotion that they can keep under the shadows. Emotionally you move them like no one else and you have become a very sensitive point for them, being able to bring out their bravest and most protective side for you. You drive them crazy and you turn their life and emotions into chaos addicted to you, there is a huge degree of affinity, in addition to indicating that emotionally and sexually you are capable of satisfying them a lot. For them, you know their needs perfectly and you please them like no one has ever done before, you’ve an emotional bond that makes the trip to the other extremely enjoyable. You can easily launch in them the idea of ​​starting a home. They may feel the need to be overly affectionate before, during and after sex with you. Being affectionate with you is something that comes naturally to them. They can get quite touchy with you.

🤎Your Mars in their 5th house: There is something in you that motivates and turns them on almost automatically, they are fascinated by every corner of your body and every part of your complex personality. You are the fire of their life, who encourages them to try, to improve and to dare to do things that they did not think possible. They see you as an intense, fun lover who is capable of surprising them more and more as they allow themselves to get to know you under the sheets. They are fascinated by the idea of ​​persuading and chasing you, you are capable of provoking an incomparable emotion in them. The sexual field is very enjoyable and positive for them. You make them feel more confident in themselves and you make them feel very loved and wanted. It is very likely that the more driven and motivated you feel, the more they will love you. It also applies when you actively seek to seduce and tease them, then you will automatically make every part of them fall for you.

🤎Your Mars in their 6th house: You came into their life to fill it with emotion and make them say goodbye to the overwhelming monotony. You teach them that interesting, fun and adventurous quality of life, as well as help them to get out of their comfort zone. They see you as a person with whom they get along wonderfully, with whom they’re able to discuss things and agree easily. You encourage them to take care of their bodies and you get them in contact with that sensual and sexual side that they sometimes put aside to fulfill their occupations. They deeply desire to have you with them quite often, sex with you can be something they enjoy doing as many times as their body allows. Your body seems extremely attractive to them and they love the care and details you have regarding it when it comes to your sexual encounters. They love it and it can turn them on to see you do the most mundane things, and they find you particularly attractive when you seem busy or if they see you working hard.

🤎Your Mars in their 7th house: One of the things they like most about you is that behind that charming personality there is a person who fights and says when something does not seem right to them, they like to see that you are an independent person who at the same time knows how to work as a team. It gives them a confidence boost when it comes to relating to other people. It is also very likely that after meeting you they have decided much more quickly that they should formalize with you, they may have that inner urge that they commit to you. They love your duality and how you go from that grace and charm to a much more seductive and chaser personality. They think that you are capable of getting what you want, especially if you want something from them, you can easily see how passionate they feel for you and how they fall for you more and more. They will not like to argue with you and will always opt for a more peaceful resolution, but they may see you as someone with a stronger temper than theirs.

🤎Your Mars in their 8th house: You provoke in them a series of emotions never before explored, the attraction is not only evident but lethal. They feel very drawn to you, as if they couldn't take their eyes off you, they feel hypnotized by your appeal, because in their eyes you are the most attractive and sensual person in the room. They love the idea of ​​being alone with you, getting to know you on a deeper level and letting you see and know every corner of them. Sex with you is something that fascinates and fills them completely, they may find themselves constantly thinking of you from that perspective and feel like they can't get enough of you. You motivate them to fight with their inner insecurities, and you make them feel much more sensitive than they are capable of showing. You make them feel that urge to change or give a change to life. They see you as a person who moves on pretty easily and as a person who is very aware of what to deal with and what’s not worthy enough.

🤎Your Mars in their 9th house: Your entrance into their lives brought with it a burst of light, passion and motivation. They may have had a very simple vision of life but your arrival made them change their perspective on life, seeing it as something more fun, interesting and happier than they thought life would feel like. They have a fascination for the way in which a life with you looks like and in them there is a desire to explore and discover new places in your company. Your drive, impetus and character are things that they love, they think that sex with you is something fun that is never the same, your versatility makes them more open to the idea of ​​experimenting with you new ways of having fun and enjoying the other. They will be fascinated by the way you think and what you talk about with them, they will let themselves be carried away by you and they will always be willing to learn more and discover new things with you. You will teach them many things and you will leave an important lesson with them.

🤎Your Mars in their 10th house: Since you are in their life, that desire for self-improvement arises in them, to show you that they are worth it and that they are capable of many things. You encourage them to excel professionally, you make them think about achieving what they set out to do and their long-term plans, where they envision you with them. The attraction they feel towards you is powerful, they see you as a person who exudes a lot of confidence and that seems irresistible to them, as it seems that you don't need anybody is exactly what makes them feel they need to pursue you and provide for you or support you in some way. Sex with you feels like that breath after a long day, it's sensual and you take time to explore and enjoy each other's parts. Time disappears when they're in front of you and they finally feel like they can live the moment. A release from stress, from all the negative things that could happen in their day, which becomes better when they have you with them for an indefinite period of time.

🤎Your Mars in their 11th house: They know perfectly well that they count on you for anything, you make them feel that there’s someone who values ​​their goals, dreams and aspirations, better yet, who encourages them to achieve them. They see in you the perfect partner, someone with whom everything is more fun and makes every moment and decision worthwhile. They feel more sociable when they are with you, happier and more willing to meet people that you consider important in your life. You have a charm that has caught their attention since you met, they saw in you that "something" that they can’t explain but that leaves them thinking of you every time. You make sex a totally new and unique experience for them, you show them a distinctive and sparkling facet of sex, both allow yourselves to experiment and try new things with each other. They see you as someone very verbal, passionate and playful, they feel that you express yourself with total transparency and your expressions are something they love.

🤎Your Mars in their 12th house: You are their motivation when it comes to fulfilling their dreams. Both are capable of intuiting what step the other will take and they may feel very connected to each other. Your arrival in their lives brought with it many realizations, they realized many things and they were able to know a facet of themselves that they kept hidden or did not know they had. They see you as a person who acts behind the scenes, someone who thinks well before taking a step but who is capable of fighting for their dreams and making them come true. Sex with you takes them to a new world, one full of fulfilled fantasies and emotions that, although intense, are totally loyal to them, a desire that gets out of control when they finally have each other and an ability to give them the pleasure they once dreamed of and wished they could feel. There is something about the way you touch them that feels healing, they feel completely loved, especially on those days when they don't love themselves.

[avelera]

One thing I find really fun and interesting when writing Hob Gadling (Sandman) in fic is to keep front and center that he’s the one of the only immortals I know of in fiction who is completely anti-nostalgia.

That’s not to say Hob can’t have fond memories, or keep mementos or relics of happy times.

But I don’t think we have a single canonical instance in the comic or show of Hob waxing poetic about how good things used to be. Quite the contrary, when actually asked about what the world used to be like, he says, err, colorful things like this:

And when it comes to memories of past lives and lovers, we get scenes in Hob’s Leviathan like this:

… which is actually Hob throwing away what appears to be a photograph of himself from his previous identity, alongside his previous lover (or wife), Elspeth seen earlier in the comic. Truly severing ties with that previous life. (Which is not to say he always does this, he seems to deeply regret pawning his portrait of Eleanor for food in the 1600s.)

This is unusual because most immortals in fiction have some past era that they miss. Or keep some historical affectation, like an accent, or slang, or clothes or hairstyles, which are slightly or even wildly out of date for the present day.

But Hob doesn’t. In the show even more than the comic we really get to see that he updated everything, including clothes, accent, slang, and pronunciation to blend into the latest era. There’s no sense that he misses any previous era and he enthusiastically embraces whatever new thing arrives, like his clunky mobile phone in 1989.

I just find this really fascinating because I think the knee-jerk tendency for writers when portraying an immortal is to make them a product of their time, brought forward to the present. The logical thing would be to have them prefer some time period or aspects of a past time period over another, or fail to be completely up to date on some aspect of life, just like your grandparents might not be up to date with the latest slang.

But because this is such a logical way to depict an immortal, it borders on cliche if not done thoughtfully. What sets Hob apart and makes him such an intriguing character is that he bucks this trend. He doesn’t prefer the past, he thinks every new innovation is brilliant, from chimneys to mobile phones. He doesn’t stick to old ways of speaking, he rigorously adopts the latest slang and pronunciation. He doesn’t wax nostalgic about how things were better in his day. If anything he seems to firmly leave every previous era in the past, as seen when even disposing of a picture of his past identity with his past lover as part of moving on to the next identity.

It’s just something I find worthy of keeping firmly in mind when writing him, as one of those unique little details that make him feel authentic to his character, as seen on the page and on screen, as opposed to falling to my own instincts (often lazy ones) to make him a more standard issue immortal as seen in other stories.

[morallyinept]

Slow - A Javi Gutierrez One Shot

'Slow, slow. Slow as you can go. So I can feel all I want to know. Slow, slow. I go with your flow. Let the world keep it's carnival pace. I'd prefer to look into your beautiful face...' - Slow, Depeche Mode

Summary: Javi just wants to take it slow. Really slow. Because, that's how he likes it.

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader speaks and understands Spanish.)

Word Count: 3.4k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of.” 

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.  

Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/lots of sensuality/multiple orgasms/making love/Javi completely loving on you, and being completely in love with you... 🫠

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned. 

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by my result of this tag game and therefore I had to write it... first time writing for gorgeous Javi G too! 😍 There's lots of Javi & Reader conversing in Spanish so I've provided translations as you go.

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVI GUTIERREZ MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

His fascination with your mouth borders on an unbridled obsession. 

It’s the curve of your lips, a subtle intoxicating lilt that holds him captivated in your thrall. You have him bewitched.

In the quiet moments of the pleasant fracas swirling around him, he finds himself entranced by the way your mouth quirks into a beaming smile, a sight that could brighten even the dullest day to fall out of the sky onto his head of silken curls.

In the sultry Mallorcan night, the heat hangs in the air like a velvet cocoon. The villa, perched on the cliffs overlooking the coastline, catches the sea breeze that carries with it the intoxicating scent of salt and blooming bougainvillaea.

The moon, a radiant slither of its full naked orb, casts a silvery glow on the Mediterranean waters, turning the waves into a ripple of shimmering diamond refractions.

The night air is filled with the chorus of chattering cicadas, their rhythmic hum a soundtrack to the nocturnal symphonies of the night.

From the cliffs, the lights of coastal towns twinkle in the distance, creating a mesmerising panorama against the dark canvas of the night sky.

The event bears the imprint of both newly conceived business connections and broader social interactions. Laughter echoes against the backdrop of the sea, mingling with the distant sounds of the waves crashing against the cliffs on which the luxurious villa, you and Javi call home, rests on.

But Javi’s interest tonight is piqued on something other than the façade of the glitz that comes with the party uniting his independent business venture away from a life shadowed by once secretly organised crime.

Shunning his duties as an amiable host this evening, he’s distracted by you and your lips. 

He loves the way your glazed lips feel on the pads of his fingertips; a soft and tender invitation to place gentle smooches on them that speaks the volumes of your love for him without uttering a single word.

The thought of your shared, deep kisses linger in his mind like a sweet aftertaste; a memory he can savour throughout the minutes of separation from you by his side.

He misses the cadence of your voice already as he sees your mouth converse with his new associates.

Whether you whisper sweet, riled nothings in the height of hedonistic delirium in his ear, or share heartfelt sentiments doing mundane things, each syllable carries the warmth of your unwavering connection.

Javi’s fixation on your mouth is raw and primal, an intense craving that runs deeper than words. The way your lips move, whether in a smirk or a pouted smile, stirs a want, a need, within him.

It’s as if your mouth holds a magnetic pull, daring him to explore its depths with a hunger that borders on illicit infatuation.

He thinks about how they... suck.

In the heat of passion, he revels in the brand of your lips, each kiss leaving a mark on his senses and skin alike where the lines blur between careful restraint and reckless abandon.

It’s a visceral experience, one that leaves him yearning for more, addicted to the electrifying sensation of your mouths colliding frantically.

Sipping on cool champagne from across the soiree, Javi watches you with a silent appreciation and a growing warmth traversing his bloodstream, gathering at the end of his painfully hardening cock. 

The soft glow of the outdoor lights play on your soft features, and every movement seems to be in some unspoken, yet choreographed, harmony with the effervescent bubbles twirling in his glass.

His coffee bean eyes are fixated on you within the balmy shadows, and as you speak with those around you, he can't help but be mesmerised by the way your mouth moves.

He marvels at the way your laughter spills from your lips like the finest vintage wine, filling him up with a contagious yet unquenchable thirst; a storm in his head that only settles when you’re near.

He looks at you, a dissected hunger spilling out over his features. He’s known obsession before, but not like this.

This burns, this desire leaves him on his knees, begging at the altar of you for more; the focal point in the gallery of his yearning, to taste those lips and let them roam unbidden across his body once more. 

In the midst of the vibrant party, he finds himself helplessly ensnared by the conspiring allure of you. Your laughter echoes through him like a haunting melody, drawing his gaze as you effortlessly charm those around you into willful subjugation.

His chest swells with pride, knowing that you’re the one who holds the spotlight in his once complicated life. You’re the one he can be unabashed and silly with.

That yours is the pair of lips he can enjoy as they wrap so delectably around his cock.

Javi holds in an audible groan at the memory of you doing just that, only hours ago. 

Leaving the home of his arms to ready yourself for the party, he'd watched you. An arm behind his head, splayed naked on the bed, engrossed as you ran the velvety lipstick over your lips in the mirror.

You watched, just as enraptured as he, through the glass reflection as he fucked his fist languidly whilst you did it.

You blotted your lipstick on his lower hip, a kiss print tattoo staining his skin that only you both know is there.

Now, as you move through the crowd, a magnetic force tugs at his attention. The gentle swish of the silk of your flaxen dress reveals a slip of thigh skin to tantalise him further.

The way your eyes sparkle at him with excitement - each detail of your smile etches into his consciousness, carves deep into the steeple of his bones. 

In the throes of the party, he feels like a mere spectator witnessing the enchanting performance of the woman he calls his amor.

As your eyes meet across the crowded space, a spark ignites creating an electric current that surges between you both. You feel it immediately whenever he looks at you like this, that bolt down your spine brandishing molten and hot into your core.

How his dark eyes drink you in over the tip of his champagne glass; a contained predator under the guise of a hapless romantic, sizing up his prey.

How he wanders over your body with an unapologetic, insatiable smirk, leaving a slew of prickles to flood all over it; nipples tightening under the flimsy silk for all to see, but only for him to taste.

You both know what he does to you. What you do to each other, even without physical touch. He knows how wet you are for him under that dress right now.

You know how hard he his inside of his pants right now.

Amidst the party's chaos, your mutual pining silence becomes loud; gazes locked with an intensity that screams of a shared hunger for one another. A flutter in his chest, a quickened pulse throbbing between your legs; the visceral responses to the tether that pulls tight between you ready to snap.

You lick your lips, the subtle swipe of your wet tongue over the scarlet of them, and it breaks all of his composure in an instant. 

Glass discarded blindly on the table behind him, Javi makes his way towards you. 

In whispered conversations beneath the shimmering string lights, your entwined arms and words carry the weight of acute longing - a pace of deliberately denied pleasure. 

“See something you like, Javi?” You smile into the graze of his softly bearded cheek and plant a delicate kiss on it. 

"Mi amor," he whispers, his voice a soft serenade. "Estás radiante esta noche, más hermosa que nunca." (My love, you are radiant tonight, more beautiful than ever.)

He presses his forehead against yours, soft silken curls spilling down his temples.

“You look so good in this colour.” His fingers brush down the front of your dress, leaving devastation in their wake.

You smile into him sweetly, at the compliment he adorns you with. It’s worth more than any gold he's wrapped around your finger.

Your digits slide up and down the expensive lapels of his shimmery suit jacket. A colour like the depths of a lush forest after a gentle rain that serves to enhance the tan on his face, and he’s never looked more beautiful.

You clutch him closer, breathing him in; a blend of aromatic lavender, spicy cardamom and a burst of citrus bergamot blends on his skin as you run your nose behind his ear.

His hands find a home snug around your lower back, stroking the bare skin there your dress dares to reveal, and gently crushing you closer against him.

It’s a relentless pursuit, an unending loop of wanting more - more of your laughter to gorge upon, more of your warmth, more of the intoxicating essence that is uniquely you.

More of those lips as they draw near and he can feel your warm breath from them ghosting upon his mouth. 

Leaning in, he grazes them against his own and asks in a low, intimate tone, "¿Podemos escaparnos por un momento, mi amor?" (Can we slip away for a moment, my love?) 

The words carry a sense of biting urgency and crackles with something more than a whispered clandestine secret to escape the decadent banality around you. 

As if caught in the trance of a feverish reverie, the party seems to melt away, replaced by the dreamscape of your bedroom where time moves differently and the heat of the Spanish climate sticks to your skin further, despite the open doors on the balcony.

The linen curtains billow in the breeze welcoming you both in. The flickering lights from the party below cast ethereal shadows in the bedroom, and the muted sounds of the revellers become a distant melody as Javi finally attaches himself to your succulent lips, stumbling in the doorway with you. 

In this fever dream, desire is palpable, a desecration of any innocence as he pushes the door shut behind him with the sole of his Gucci loafer, and he’s above your body on the kingdom of your shared bed, those cascading chocolate waves falling into your face. 

The siren of the night calls, a constant craving, an ache that only subsides when you’re entangled in each other's arms. And yet it still feels as though it'll never be absolved.

He draws his fingertips around the circumference of your silk covered nipples, then up to your lips. He watches in awe as you kiss each of them, your tongue daring to lick around them, sucking them into your mouth. 

"Your mouth,” Javi murmurs, the intensity of his gaze fixated on the wet, pink tongue sliding between the webbing of his fingers. 

He feels you cup him over his pants, the prominent ache becoming unbearable as you squeeze gently.

"Quisiera tomárnoslo con calma esta noche." (I want us to take it slow tonight.)

“Javi…” You groan in protest as he runs his wet fingers over your crown and presses himself against you, making you feel the hardness of him at your centre. 

"Lento... realmente lento, mi amor. Quiero tomarme mi dulce tiempo contigo." (Slow... really slow, my love. I want to take my sweet time with you.)

“Javi, por favor…” You whine, trying to grind against him. (Javi, please…)

“Quiero explorarte a fondo... hacerte anhelar que esto dure para siempre.” (I want to explore you thoroughly... make you long for this to last forever.)

Sucked into the plush oasis of his mouth, tongue swiping tantalising tracks across your lips, your fingers rake into his curls as you tug. A gritty whine of longing claws its way from deep within him; a raw and primal sound that conjoins the ache in his chest and the incessant throbbing in his cock.

It’s a guttural utterance, a manifestation of the unspoken cravings that sear red hot through his veins. 

"Entrégame todo tu amor, Javi.” (Give me all of your love, Javi.) You gasp as you come up for air. 

You push his jacket from his broad shoulders, fingers prying at buttons down the linen shirt to get to the prize of golden skin underneath. The hem of your pale honey silk is pushed up to your waist as his fingers stroke over your thighs. 

A slew of kisses make steamed tracks on your collarbone, a hungry mouth trailing over your bare breasts as he releases them. Hard nipples are sucked into warm, wet flesh as you whine and gasp.

He buries himself between your thighs, lips sucking, tongue fucking into you gently, as you twist your fingers into his scalp and pant for more. 

“Javi!”

He hears you lament his name over and over, lost in the depths of the pleasure from his mouth. He offers you a tether, fingers slipped into your cunt and mouth alike as he looks up at you, tongue running around your pulsing clit. 

The bedroom fills with sunlight in the ripe darkness of the night - you glow for him, as bright as your dress, brighter than the sun.

He watches you come as he licks and sucks you through it; fingers pushing into your craving orifices deeper, coated in saliva and slick.

Javi discards his pants, kiss print still visible from your lips. Crawling up your body gloriously naked, sculpted in the arms and shoulders, you welcome him in with open, adoring arms and legs.

Those first few strokes, when he enters you, feels like the first time all over again. Like he’s died and been reborn anew. Put back together again, sewn up with glittered strings.

He slows right down, dragging his thick cock almost all the way out, before pushing back in slower than before. 

You groan, low and lingering, entombed in your wanting. Feeling every hilt and swollen ridge of him.

“You feel me like this, mi amor?” His nose nuzzles at your neck, lips pressing kisses into the column of your throat. “¿Tienes idea de lo jodidamente hermosa que estás en este momento?" (Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are right now?)

His fingers slip down your stomach, circling over your clit as you whine for more. 

He stops only to kiss you, losing himself in the richness of your taste; his cock plunged in deep and feeling you clench and rib around him. 

“Slow,” Javi whispers.

“Slow,” you whisper back. 

He glances down between your bodies to keenly observe the root of your connection; watching the way he disappears fully into you, hips crushed against yours. 

Watching the way you gnaw and bite on your bottom lip that he just has to have. Taking it between his teeth, he sucks it, sweet nips, tongue sliding into your mouth to gorge on you further.

The grind is deep, a languid pendulum of his hips back and forth. You grasp at his fingers, entwining them as he pulls you out of yourself.

Slow, unhurried strokes so you feel it all; lingering in the pooling light of your orgasms, never letting them diminish, always keeping you out of the dark. 

Kisses click down your jaw, soft grazes of his facial hair feels like chiffon against your skin. Hands stroking, squeezing, full of you as he fills you full of his hard, thick love. 

Soon your mouth craves the taste of him and you take him; lips clamped around his length as you suck him down into the back of your throat, tasting your sweet slick that coats him.

Nose pressed against the soft, downy hairs at the base of him, and his fingers curl around tendrils of your hair as you suck.

Javi gulps, a gasp strangled in his throat somewhere cracking out of him as he watches you annihilate him with those lips. 

He pulls your face up to him, kissing you so desperately and tasting his own salt on them. He feels you circling, with just the tip of your forefinger and thumb, trailing delicately up his shaft and to the head that’s warm and glistening.

You rub your thumb over that tiny oozing slit and feel him twitch and buckle as he groans - that deep, guttural sound when a man finds his pleasure.

"Soy completamente tuyo." (I am all yours.) He rasps, losing everything he is in an instant with a simple flick of your tongue.

You kiss and mouth over his cock gently, trailing the swollen, wet head over your lips as though re-applying your favourite lipstick.

He grunts, neck craned with his head watching and relishing that moment to come when you’ll slip him into your throat again. 

"Oh si, si, si..." he hisses encouragingly. Little breaths of "fuck... fuck... fuck..." puff out of him on ragged whispers as he watches your hungry lips devouring him slowly.

As slow as you can go. 

You climb up him as he sits upright; broad, muscular arms straining with the weight of him.

“Necesito de ti, Javi.” (I need you, Javi.) You shudder. 

You sink down on him without hesitation, gasping with a tremor as he fills you up. 

“Slow,” he whispers.

“Slow,” you whisper back. 

A gentle swivel and flex of your hips, back shining with sweat as you rock into that sweet, heady rhythm of how he likes it, how he wants this to last.

He steers you down onto him, feeling you shake down his length as he fills you up slowly, deliberately to make you feel him.

He places his palm flat on your lower tummy increasing the pressure as you arch back and you can feel the delicious weight of it as he furrows deep inside of you.

A few strokes of your clit with his thumb and you're falling apart.

“Ah si, Javi…” You wail. 

He licks into your mouth as you cry out for him, tasting those lips once more. Sucking on the bottom as he gives you all of him. 

He runs his nose across your throat and it makes him shudder in that way he does when he inhales your scent into his bloodstream. When he shifts his body weight slightly, you can feel exactly what it does to him as he hits your spot and you rile his name.

Outside, muted star trails smear across the night’s sky above the ocean. In here, in the sheets with Javi, it’s all slowed down to heavy panting breaths, touches that linger and sear into the layers of your skin as they crisp and unfurl.

Burning you up from the inside. Teeth bite into your tongue to mute the crescendoing whines and moans.

He whispers sweetly comforting spiels in your ear as he's deeper right now than he’s ever been. Buried to the absolute hilt inside of you, and the slightest movement makes you gasp and clench and fist those sheets in heady defiance.

And yet he still keeps you grounded as he swells and stretches you out. Locked in a silent gasp, your mouth open, your hands slowly release their death grip on the sheets and he kisses your shoulder in a mark of respect and praise as you burst around him; stardust and diamond fragments filling the air as he inhales you in.

Javi moves slowly, backs out a little and you whine at the feel of less of him, but he's back inside you in a slow, deep glide, bringing you full of him again.

And again. And again.

He clamps his fingers around your nipples as you're on the cusp once more, knowing how much you love it. 

“Mírame… Eres tan hermosa. (Look at me… You’re so beautiful.) How did I get so lucky?” He utters in spellbound disbelief.

You’re coming again; body clenching and shuddering, pussy squeezing around his cock, and each time he can barely hold on himself.

He pulls them out of you, one after another to bear witness to each one being born. The gentle weight of him on top of you, the softness of his warm, tanned skin, the scent of his cologne and the words he says sends you over the edge. 

The only time Javi speeds up is when he draws closer to his own finish, pumping his hips into you as he whimpers and has his turn to shake in your arms.

Brow furrowing, dark eyes watery, he strains and gasps. 

“Te amo muchísimo, nunca dejaré de amarte…” (I love you so much, I’ll never stop loving you...) He utters as you kill him. 

"Nunca, nunca, nunca..." (Never, never, never...) You say smiling into his mouth. “Javi, come for me,” you groan.

“Si, mi vida…” he pants. “I’m coming for you… fuuuuuck!”  He growls into your ear.

You come with him as he empties with a shudder, his forehead crushed into yours, fingers knotted in your scalp, your nails buried into his back skin.

He kisses you, the taste of salt and faded bubbles wash over your tongues.

He stays inside you, connected and drenched in seeping slick and spend as he kisses your lips - those lips that could make him leap off the cliffs to his death. 

Those lips that are divine inspiration.

"¿Tenemos que volver a la fiesta?" (Do we have to go back to the party?) You ask dreamily as he kisses over your breasts and shoulders repeatedly, slowly.

"No, podemos quedarnos aquí, mi amor." (No, we can stay here, my darling.) He says into gluttonous mouthfuls of your skin. "Además, aún no he terminado de tomarme mi tiempo contigo..." (Besides, I haven't finished taking my time with you yet...)

You smile into his crown and he looks up at you; soft chocolate curls framing his buoyant face. 

“Slow.” You say.

“Slow.” Javi agrees. “Así es como me gusta.” (That's how I like it.)

Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed going slow with Javi G. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts, and would always appreciate a re-blog if you enjoyed what you just read. 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVI GUTIERREZ MASTERLIST

[mariacallous]

Salman Rushdie has just published Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder. In August 2022, he was giving a talk at the Chautauqua Institution in New York. Hadi Matar, a 24-year-old from New Jersey, rushed the stage and stabbed him 15 times. It was astonishing that Salman survived. He lost the sight in one eye and sustained terrible injuries, but he’s still with us and he’s still writing, and unlike Hadi Matar, he’s still worth hearing.

We think of fanatics as stalkers with an obsessive knowledge of their targets.  Like the antisemites who compile lists of Jews in the media or the homophobes who so focus on the details of gay sex they might almost be closet cases

Most terrorists and bigots are not like that. They are like soldiers in an army who kill and hate for no other reason than tradition or men in authority have told them to kill and hate. If we were less fascinated by the pseudo-glamour of violence, we would see them for what they are: dullards and jerks.

In Knife Salman is almost as angered by the sheer lazy stupidity of his wannabee assassin as his violence.

“I do not want to use his name in this account. My Assailant, my would-be Assassin, the Asinine man who made Assumptions about me, and with whom I had a near-lethal Assignation … I have found myself thinking of him, perhaps forgivably, as an Ass.”

The ass “didn’t bother to inform himself about the man he decided to kill. By his own admission he read barely two pages of my writing and watched a couple of YouTube videos”.

That was enough, apparently, along with a little light indoctrination in the Levant.

We know from Matar’s mother that her son changed from a popular young man to a moody religious zealot after visiting her ex-husband in the Hezbollah-controlled town of Yaroun in Lebanon, a mile or so from the Israeli border.

“I was expecting him to come back motivated, to complete school, to get his degree and a job. But instead, he locked himself in the basement. He had changed a lot. He didn't say anything to me or his sisters for months.”

Salman quotes a wonderfully perceptive line from Jodi Picoult

“If you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.”

Rushdie is openly contemptuous, as he has every right to be.

“I see you now at twenty-four,” he writes, “already disappointed by life, disappointed in your mother, your sisters, your father, your lack of boxing talent, your lack of any talent at all; disappointed in the bleak future you saw stretching ahead of you, for which you refused to blame yourself.”

This has always been the way. Readers old enough to remember 1989 when the Ayatollah Khomeini ordered Salman’s execution for writing a blasphemous satire of Islam’s origin story in the Satanic Verses,will know that Khomeini had not read it. Nor had the furious demonstrators in the streets or the regressive leftists and Tory ministers who upbraided him for the non-crime of causing offence.

Those of us who had read the book pointed out that it was a magical realist fiction which contained sympathetic accounts of the racism Muslim immigrants in the UK suffered. Indeed, the Tories of the day loathed Salman, we continued, because of his confrontations with official racism.

But after a while we fell silent. Pleading with his enemies felt demeaning. It gave them undeserved credit, as if they were reasonable people, who could be swayed by evidence rather than just, well, pillocks.

In Knife Salman attempts an imaginary conversation with his persecutor.

OK, he says, Islam, unlike Judaism and Christianity, holds that man is not made in God’s image. God has no human qualities, it says.

But isn’t language a human quality? To have language, God would have to have a mouth, a tongue, vocal cords and a voice, just like a man. The terrorist’s understanding is that God cannot be like a man, however. So, God could not have spoken to Gabriel in Arabic. Gabriel must have translated his message when he came to the prophet.

The angel made it comprehensible to Muhammed by delivering it in human speech which is not the speech of God.

Thus, the version of Islamic instruction Matar received in his basement when he switched from playing video games to listening to Imams was an interpretation of a translation.

“I’m trying to suggest to you that, even according to your own tradition, there is uncertainty. Some of your own early philosophers have suggested this. They say everything can be interpreted, even the Book. It can be interpreted according to the times in which the interpreter lives. Literalism is a mistake.”

For a while, Rushdie says he wants to meet Matar again at the trial, as if he wants to have the argument in the flesh.

He tells a story about Samuel Beckett, which could only have happened to Samuel Beckett.

Beckett was walking through Paris in 1938 when he was confronted by a pimp named Prudent, who wanted money from him. Beckett pushed Prudent away, whereupon the pimp pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the chest, narrowly missing the left lung and the heart.

Beckett was taken to the nearest hospital, bleeding heavily. He only just survived.

You will never guess who paid for his treatment. James Joyce, of course, he did.

Anyway, Beckett went to the pimp’s trial. He met Prudent in the courtroom, and asked him why he had done it. This was the pimp’s reply: “Je ne sais pas, monsieur. Je m’excuse.” (I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.)

But the more he thought about it, the less Rushdie had to say to his enemy. The idea that you can have theological arguments with a man who wants to kill you for writing a book he hasn’t even read felt ridiculous.

Although popular culture is full of stories about murderers, and true crime podcasts top the charts, killers and fanatics are nearly always less interesting than their victims. More often than not they are just thick. Nasty and vicious, but thick first of all.

We are about to see the stupidity of fanatics deployed on a mass scale. Two thirds of Republican voters (and nearly 3 in 10 Americans) continue to believe that the 2020 election was stolen from Donald Trump, and that Joe Biden was not lawfully elected. They think it because that is what Trump told them to think.

Islamists told Matar that Salman was an apostate, and that was all he needed to know. Trump told Republicans the election was stolen and ditto.

If Republicans were consistent people, they would not vote for Trump in 2024. What would be the point? They would have every reason to fear that the deep state would rig the 2024 presidential election as it rigged the 2020 presidential election.

But they will vote for him because, once again, that is what he tells them to do.

In the end there is a limit to how much attention you can pay the vicious and the stupid.

They are not interesting enough, as Rushdie concluded with marvellous disdain as he contemplated the life sentence Matar will face.

"Here we stand: the man who failed to kill an unarmed seventy-five-year-old writer, and the now 76-year-old writer. Somewhat to my surprise, I find I have very little to say to you. Our lives touched each other for an instant and then separated. Mine has improved since that day, while yours has deteriorated. You made a bad gamble and lost. I was the one with the luck… Perhaps, in the incarcerated decades that stretch out before you, you will learn introspection, and come to understand that you did something wrong. But you know what? I don’t care. This, I think, is what I have come to this courtroom to say to you. I don’t care about you, or the ideology that you claim to represent, and which you represent so poorly. I have my life, and my work, and there are people who love me. I care about those things.”

[dragon-ascent]

You see Liyue's god, Morax, on the street and you lose your mind.

★彡takes place centuries ago, when Rex Lapis was said to be close with his people, Rukkhadevata still existed, etc.

In Teyvat, where gods and monsters roam the land, it is only natural that stories of the divine weave their way into daily life. As a child, you'd been accustomed to poring over books and pictures of the gods of other nations. Like Baal with her elegant, thundering might that could cleave whole islands in half in one stroke, and the playful Barbatos, who could blow away even the tallest mountains with a single gust of wind. They were all so charming, so ethereal, so complex. Your own god was no less impressive - the beautiful and divine Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, whose blessings of wisdom gave rise to your thriving nation.

The god that fascinated you the most, however, was Morax - or Rex Lapis, as the people of his nation so reverently called him.

In all the stories you'd read and the plays you'd seen, Rex Lapis was depicted as a fierce warrior god who could overcome any adversity thrown his way. He'd minted Mora from his own divine body, altered the landscape of Liyue during major battles, and bestowed blessings of illumination upon his adepti companions.

Most importantly, he is handsome.

Yes, it's a little silly to swoon over a religious deity, but...look at him. Every story you've read depicted him in the same way, be it in Inazuman manga or Sumerian amar chitra katha: long dark hair that was securely fastened by a gilded pin; toned arms that shimmered with hues of black and gold; and glimmering amber eyes set upon a face that seemed to be chiseled by Celestia itself.

Honestly, Rex Lapis is the main reason you're interested in pursuing higher studies in Liyue rather than in Sumeru, much to your parents' disdain. Why go to Liyue when Sumeru has a perfectly reputable Akademiya with well-established Darshans? But they know they cannot stop you: when your reverence for Rex Lapis has far transcended your devotion to Rukkhadevata almost since the moment you were born, why shouldn't you gain the opportunity to get closer to the god you love most?

So the day you get the acceptance letter from your dream academy in Liyue Harbor, it's a most joyous occasion indeed. After much jumping and screaming and cheering, you lay out your plan for when you first get to Liyue to settle into your dorm for the academic year:

Step 1: Find Rex Lapis.

Step 2: Woo him and become his consort...or something.

A masterfully-crafted plan, is it not?

---x---

It's not a far journey from Sumeru; the two are neighboring countries after all, and it takes about a day and a half by cart to get to the harbor. That's where Rex Lapis is most active, so you should certainly be able to catch a glimpse of him at least once during your fortnight here, yes?

Throughout almost the entire journey, your nose is buried in stories of Rex Lapis mingling with his people. Oftentimes this is done while he is incognito, his golden eyes the only thing giving away his identity.

Yes, that's another thing about him that wildly interests you - out of all the archons, he's one of the closest to his people. That's the whole basis for your master plan, no? It wouldn't work if he were to be cooped up in Taishan Mansion like he was originally supposed to be.

The scenery shifts from thick forests to vast valleys, and before you know it you've crossed the Sumeru-Liyue border. The landscape shifts to warmer colours, the ever-present green now blending with hues of red and gold. Mountains dot the horizon, and your heart pounds with excitement at the thought of Rex Lapis having formed them all himself. And, the moment you see a Statue of the Seven come into view and it's Rex Lapis instead of Rukkhadevata, you find yourself squealing for the carriage to be stopped for a moment.

Hurrying out and almost tripping over yourself with giddiness, you make your way over to the statue. "Oh my gosh!" You can hardly believe it yourself, but his stone likeness sits upon a throne, his face shrouded by a hood as he gazes contemplatively at a cube in his hand. With the way he's sitting...surely you can nestle yourself on his lap!

The carriage's coachman pulls you back before you can climb up the statue and incur your first penalty in Liyue.

---x---

Fortune is on your side for the most part, for your dorm is located in the perfect spot near your academy-to-be, and you get a lovely seaside view from your window. The rent came cheap as well, and you had a smooth and seamless moving-in experience.

The area where fortune is not on your side, however, is in the fact that you've been here for a week and haven't seen neither hide nor hair of the Geo archon. You'd been traipsing around the harbor all week to the point that you could probably point out all the landmarks like a local, but there was no sign of a certain golden-eyed man at all. (You knew this because you'd made sure to look into everyone's eyes - not long enough to be creepy but just long enough to get some confused looks.)

One consolation was the fact that the people of Liyue loved talking about their experiences with their god: how he had once used a spoon from this place to try food from that stall, how he had written a poem for this store and had personally named that restaurant...his presence was interwoven with the stories of this city and could certainly not be de-threaded from them.

So where on earth was he now?

Your question is answered when you're out buying potatoes at the market ("Rex Lapis himself had suggested this place sell potatoes!"), when the vendor nearly knocks your bag over as he bows deeply to the tall man who has appeared beside you. "Rex Lapis, it is an honor and a pleasure to see you back here again!"

You nearly drop those damn potatoes.

"Ah, think nothing of it, my friend. The vegetable arrangements you craft out of food waste are simply a delight to behold - and economical, as well. One might even say that..." As his rich, deep baritone engulfs your ears, you finally muster the courage to look up at him. The moment you do, your jaw practically drops to the pavement.

The manga and amar chitra katha weren't lying. If anything, they weren't even doing justice to his appearance.

Beautiful amber eyes set upon a chiseled face that exuded equal parts royalty and congeniality; long, silky dark hair held together by a lustrous gold pin; and through his archon robes you could make out the shape of his toned and muscular body.

"Ohmagaissreallyyouohgaohwhadahek..."

You hadn't realised you'd just babbled something until the god stops mid-conversation and turns to look at you curiously.

"Pardon me, little one, I didn't quite catch that."

Your legs feel like they're made of water; yet somehow you don't fall to the ground. He's looking at you, oh gods he's looking at you. "Uhhhhhh," is all you can utter.

He offers you a warm smile that could put even the morning sun to shame. If your voice worked, you would scream "I'm in love with you" at him. "Yours is a face I have not seen around here before. A visitor to my land, I assume?"

The only thing you can do right now is nod meekly. The god's eyes twinkle.

"Well, I do hope you enjoy your stay here. Liyue has much to offer, regardless of what it is you may be looking for." You nod dumbly yet again as he finishes his conversation with the vendor and, with a nod to you, Rex Lapis begins to stroll down the street.

Clearly his presence is not an infrequent occurrence, for everyone who passes by him merely greets him with mild nervousness and reverence, as opposed to hurling themselves at his feet and wailing words of praise at him.

Finally, your legs start working again. Before you know it, you find yourself running towards him. Rex Lapis, sensing your footsteps, turns to look at you.

You pause, catching your breath. Your heart is hammering away in your chest, and it's not because of the running. "I...have something I want to say to you...m-my lord!"

"Yes?" He eyes you curiously, head slightly cocked.

You bite your lip, your mind reeling. So many things to say, so little brain juice in you... "I - I think you're very handsome!"

Saying this, you run off, leaving the god to stand there and process what had just transpired. Classy.

[lixiepeach]

Fascination

Summary: It’s not love, he muses as he stares down at you. He could never bind himself to such a temporary thing as yourself. Lust, perhaps curiosity, fascination even, that’s brought him to desire you in such a way, that’s entangled you both. He allows himself a moment of tenderness as he brushes the hair stuck to your forehead, his lips pressing softly against yours. You lean into him, fingers brushing the tip of his ear as you trail your hands through his hair. 

Pairing: Thranduil x human!reader

Warnings: NSFW, explicit smut, p in v sex, fingering, sort of rough sex, unprotected sex (because of elf magic), no aftercare, interspecies relationship, reader is more of a paramour than anything, Thrandy is a bit obsessed, sort of a toxic relationship depending on how you look at it, it’s not love it’s lust, Thrandy is also a bit egotistical and elitist but what do we expect? 

A/N: Thought up this one a while ago whilst in the middle of some thots and decided to just write it since it wouldn't leave me alone. Not my first time writing for LOTR, but it's been quite a while. Might consider turning it into a series if there's enough interest...Anyway, I hope there's enough of a fandom left to enjoy it and that I'm not screaming into a void right now.

MASTERLIST

His eyes trace your form as you lay sprawled in the grass, asleep and entirely unaware. It speaks volumes of your trust, the ease with which you simply exist in his world as you nap in the warm afternoon sun. It’s amusing to him the way you lay there, one arm over your head, the other draped across your stomach, chest rising and falling slowly and evenly as your mind takes you far off into your dreams. 

His eyes trace your face, features he’s well acquainted with after hours upon hours of studying them. He connects the colored dots on your skin with his eyes, his gaze following the slope of your nose, the softness of your brow in your relaxed state. His fingers twitch at his side, longing to brush across the warmth of your skin but he stays his hand in fear he might disturb you. He’s not ready for you to be awake yet. 

He would gladly stare at you all day, his little mortal. 

It’s been a long time since he’s felt desire churning in his stomach, the twisting deep within as he gazes at another. Yet, here he finds himself feeling that warmth in his stomach as he gazes at a simple mortal woman. He had tried to brush it off as simply a fickle thing, many ages of loneliness finally beginning to wear upon him. It wasn’t as if he was without offers. Many brave elleths had approached him, brazenly offering their company in hopes of earning his affections, and even perhaps winning his heart. He had always turned them away, first in pain then in spite. He had ignored the disappointment and shame as he glanced over them, always looking through them, never quite seeing them. 

Then you arrived. 

It wasn’t often that the race of men graced his halls. He so rarely interacted with men, preferring to send envoys on his behalf the rare chance it happened. You had come not by choice, instead brought in on the brink of death after being rescued by his guards from a nest of spiders. Sick with poison from a bite, you had been in a terrible state upon your arrival, but had made a quick recovery thanks to the talent of his healers. 

He’s not sure what it was about you that piqued his interest. You were no one of any sort of importance. A simple human from one of the woodsman villages on the borders of the forest, a mere mortal woman that would have lived and died in a blink of his eye had you not by chance strayed from your path and fallen into the traps of the foul nuisance that was the spiders. Yet as you stood there, nervous before him as you thanked him, offering your life in debt for your rescue, he couldn’t help but stare. He wasn’t looking through you as he so often did others, no, he was seeing you. 

Perhaps it was because you saw him. Not the crown, not his status, not the promise of what he could give or the things he had the power to do. You were staring at him. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought perhaps you could see past the carefully crafted illusion and straight into his very being. 

That had been weeks ago, and still you linger in his halls at his insistence. 

You’ve offered no complaint, brought up no desire to return to your life in your village. There has been no longing in your gaze for your home, no far off look as you thought of your little house where you dwelled alone. He had felt the strength in your hands, the calluses on your fingers that spoke of a life of hard work, of fending for yourself. His fingers often traced the marks on your skin, remnants from accidents and close calls. He’s never bared his own scars to you, and he likely never will. 

He continues to stare at you as you sleep, your form illuminated by the golden light of the sun. He wouldn’t go so far as to call you ethereal in its light. You lacked the luminance of elves, though you seemed to glow in a different way. There was something so tangible about you, the life that was almost teeming from you as you smiled, the pure joy in your laughter, the profoundness of your sympathy, the intensity of your stare. You carried the weight of your emotions so plainly, though perhaps that was what it meant to be mortal. The understanding that you had so little time, that your life would end eventually. 

He has lived ages before you, and he will live ages after you. 

He can no longer ignore the churning in his stomach, the twitching of his fingers, the desire burning hot within him. His fingers trail along the line of your jaw, ghosting down the side of your neck that’s bared to him as your head is turned just slightly to the side. The sun has warmed you, the heat pulsing beneath his fingers. He takes in the texture of your skin, soft for a mortal but not quite as smooth as an elf’s. The corner of his lips lifts upward as goosebumps form on your skin, his eyes drawn down to your chest as his fingers trace your collarbones. You shift in your sleep, his hand pausing until you settle again. 

He allows his fingers to follow the neckline of your dress, the fine silk draped across your body in a way that accentuates your curves deliciously. You’re not built like an elf, no long lines and hard edges. You’re all soft curves and rounded edges plainly evidenced by the way the silk clings to your body even as you lay completely relaxed. 

You shift once more as his fingers brush the tops of your breasts, your mind beginning to wake. He watches the way your nipples pebble as he teases the sensitive skin of your dress, pressing against the thin fabric keeping them hidden. He loves how sensitive and reactive you are to him, your lips parting in a gasp as he thumbs over one of your hard nipples. 

Your eyes are glazed with sleep still as they flutter open, squinting in the sunlight. Your movements are sluggish as you shift below him, stretching your arms over your head. You remind him a bit of a cat as you stretch, letting out a quiet groan. 

He lets his hand slide up your chest to your neck, his thumb brushing the line of your throat. “Good afternoon, little one.” 

“I fell asleep.” You murmur, awareness beginning to come back to you as you stare up at him. 

A smile tugs at his lips, the fondness that he felt for you rising above the desire for a moment. “You did. Quite quickly, I might add.” He says. You have a habit of dozing easily, needing far more sleep than an elf. “Perhaps I am to blame in part for keeping you up so late into the night.” He teases, heat blooming beneath his fingers on your skin. 

You have the gaul to look bashful under his gaze, as if you had not captured him under your spell. You make him feel powerful as he looms over you, raw energy pulsing through him like lightning at the thought of how vulnerable you are, how vulnerable he is. How easily you had captured him, how easily life had begun to flow through him again at the sight of you. His blood runs hot, fingers trembling at the thought of how easily you could end him. 

One day you will. 

He forces the thought from his mind, pressing his thumb against your lips. You press a soft kiss to his skin, your gaze meeting his. You already know what he wants, why he pulled you from your blissful sleep. Your body shifts as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You still taste of the wine served at lunch, sweet and earthy with a hint of something else, something that was just simply...you. 

His hold on your neck tightens just slightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh. You gasp quietly against his lips, his head tilting to take advantage of your reaction. His tongue invades your mouth, tangling with your own. You sigh into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair. It’s bold, but he allows it, far too focused on his attempt to devour you with his lips. 

He shifts his body over yours, your knees parting for him like your body was welcoming his proximity. You are as your hands slip through his hair, silky strands sliding through your fingers. It’s his turn to gasp into your mouth as your fingertips brush the sensitive tips of his ears. The sensation shoots straight down his spine, his back arching into you. He pulls away from your kiss-plump lips, mischief shining in your eyes as you stare up at him. Your fingers flick the tips of his ears again, his eyes fluttering as a groan is pulled from his lips. 

“Naughty little thing,” He groans, leaning down to nip playfully at your bottom lip. 

Your giggle turns into a sigh as his lips abandon yours to taste your skin, his hand slipping under the skirt of your dress. He can smell your arousal, the thick, heady scent corrupting the fresh air of the gardens. He could get lost in the scent, bury his face in it until it suffocates him. He has lost himself in the scent and taste of you, many surfaces having been defiled by his need. He fights the urge to shove his face beneath your skirts and tease you with his tongue until you’re nearly unconscious. 

No, he needs something else from you today. 

His hand trails up your leg, pushing your skirts up with it. His fingers close around your thigh, sinking into the flesh. You let out a quiet sound as he digs his fingers into you, hard enough he knows you’ll bruise. He loves how easy it is to mark you, and he loves how long those marks linger on your skin. His rings bite into the sensitive flesh, but you offer no complaint. Instead your head drops back, bearing your throat to him. He bites at the skin of your throat, his tongue laving across the stinging marks his teeth leave behind. 

You’re practically boneless under him and he has yet to touch you, your hands rumbling the fabric of his shirt as you hold on to him for dear life. He often wonders what it feels like to you, if his touch electrifies you as much as your touch electrifies him. You’ve never known the touch of a mortal man, you had confessed to him, though it wasn’t due to a lack of suitors. 

You had never explained why, though, you had refused the many offers of eligible men over the years. Perhaps it was for the same reasons he refused the willing elleths who propositioned him. 

Or, perhaps deep down you knew no mortal man would ever be enough. 

He draws himself from you to sit up on his knees, his hands pushing the fabric of your skirt the rest of the way up until it’s pooled around your waist. You’re bare beneath the dress, damp folds on display for him as he takes you in. You are beautiful in the way mortals are, like flowers would be to trees. You’re especially beautiful like this, laid out beneath him shameless and needy. You had been shy at first to his advances, but now you served him without question, without hesitation. 

How eager you were to serve your king. 

His hand trails from your hip to your stomach, feeling the hitch in your breath as he dips his fingers lower through rough curls before he finds exactly what he needs. Your lips part in a gasp as he brushes your pearl, the scent of your arousal strengthening as he begins to touch you. His thumb brushes over the sensitive bud, watching your face as your eyes get heavy and dark with need. He knows exactly how to play you, exactly how to make you tremble in his arms. 

He’ll take his time with you later. Right now, he needs his own release. 

You let out a quiet sound as two of his fingers sink into your heat, your body opening up to him. Much time he has spent teaching your body to open to him, to accept him, to be ready for him. As much as he enjoyed the roughness, seeing just how far he could push your little mortal body, as much as he enjoyed taking out his anger and his frustrations on your body, he never wished to hurt you. Many hours had been spent with his hand between your legs, bringing you to the edge but never quite letting you peak. 

Not until he was satisfied. 

His hand presses into your stomach, holding your hips still as he languidly pumps his fingers in and out of you. Your walls are slick with arousal, gripping him like a vice. His fingers are thick and long, reaching deep inside you, far deeper than you could ever bring your own fingers to. You had tried, you had shown him how you pleased yourself. He wondered how often you had done it in his Halls, how often he had been the one in your thoughts as you brought yourself to your release with your fingers. 

He’s forbidden it now, you touching yourself, bringing yourself pleasure. That was his job. It would be only his fingers that you knew, that would bring you to the point of release now. Now matter how dripping with need you are, you’re his. His to pleasure, his to take, his to find release with. 

Sometimes he’s not quite sure who is truly in charge. If he commands your body and your mind, or if he’s the one wrapped around your little finger. 

You buck against his hand as he curls his fingers, drawing a quiet moan from your lips. There’s no need for silence out here. You’re deep enough in the gardens the guards won’t be able to see anything, and they know by now to close their ears against what their king does in his private moments. 

“Please, please My King.” You beg, oh so sweetly. 

He stares at you, the sweat beading on your brow, your swollen lips parted as your chest heaves for breath. Your thighs are trembling, hands twisting in the grass beside you. You’re dripping onto his hand, the wet squelch of his fingers like music to his ears. 

“Tell me what you need, little one.” He says, the deep timbre of his voice edged with a needy rasp. He’s hard, nearly throbbing beneath the constraints of his pants. He’s far more patient with his own pleasure. He knows it’s coming, he knows you’ll let him take what he needs. 

“I-I need...” You stammer, eyes rolling in pleasure as he curls his fingers. A whine leaves your lips as he drags his fingers across that spongy spot inside you. “I-I need you. Please, My King.” 

He hums appreciatively at your begging, your desperation. You truly are desperate, he can feel it in the fluttering of your walls around his fingers. He’s not done with you yet, though. His lips lift up in a smirk as he watches you, your gaze locked on his. “Am I not giving myself to you? Are my fingers not enough for you?” 

“No!” You whine, thighs trying to close around him as you get closer and closer to release. “I-I need...I want to feel you!” You cry out, greedy in your desperation. “I want you inside me!” 

He basks in your begging, your neediness, your shamelessness. He was going to give it to you anyway, and you know this, but you also know he wants to hear you, to see you beneath him, begging him desperately. 

He truly wants to believe he is in control. 

He pulls his fingers from your folds, lifting them to his lips. You let out a quiet whimper as his tongue darts out, licking your juices from them. You’re musky and almost tangy on his tongue, not unlike a rich wine. He wants to savor you like a wine, but his own neediness is beginning to itch in the back of his mind. He’s beginning to feel his own desperation, his own desire to sink into your warmth and stay there for the rest of eternity. 

He releases you enough to free himself from the constraints of his pants, his hand wrapping around his thick length. You tilt your head so you can see him, eyes focused on him as he pumps his length in his hand. Your legs fall open, completely relaxed as you bare your weeping folds to him. He has the desire to praise you, but he holds his tongue. He does not wish to go to that place right now. 

Right now he needs release, the sweet release only your body can give him. 

You welcome him as he sinks into your body, arms wrapping around him as he presses himself against you. You relax yourself around him as he sinks into your warmth, the wide head of his length spearing you open. You offer no complaint if it’s uncomfortable, only clinging to his tunic as he lets himself rest over you for a moment. Your legs squeeze around his waist as if you’re trying to draw him deeper into you, as if you might fuse his body into yours. 

He allows a moment of tenderness as he kisses you, tasting your lips again. You hum into his mouth, walls squeezing around him as if telling him you’re ready, you’re waiting. 

You are waiting for him. 

He draws his hips back, slow and steady as if he was unsheathing a blade, letting you feel every inch of him as he withdraws from your walls to just the tip of his length. You let out a cry as he presses back into you, reaching as deep as he can, until your hips are flush with his. You cling to him as he sets his pace, rocking into you steadily. There will be grass stains on your dress, but that won’t matter. You’ll change before dinner, wearing something more extravagant as you dined with your king. 

Not that you’ll be wearing whatever dress you choose very long. He has every intention of taking you to his chambers tonight and picking you apart piece by piece until you are nothing more than a whining, writhing mess on his bed. Then he will take you apart further until your eyes flutter and your breathing shudders and you dangle over the precipice of unconsciousness as he brings you more pleasure than you ever thought you could feel at once. 

That is for later, though. 

Right now, he needs to ease the aching desire deep within him, the beast that you reawoke within him. He keeps his pace steady, sharpening the snap of his hips into you. You’re whining and moaning against him, hands clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you on this plane of existence. His blood burns hot within him at the thought of being needed, of being desired so carnally. 

You’re growing close to your release, your thighs trembling around his hips. Your cries are loud in the gardens, lost in your pleasure as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. As much as he’s fueled by his own need for release, he wants you to fall over the edge first. He wants to see you lost in your pleasure, even if just for a moment. 

He pulls back enough to stare at your face, eyes closed in pleasure, lips parted as you moan. His hand grips the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are dazed with pleasure, glossy and blown with lust. His fingers dig into your skin, your pulse thrumming under his thumb. Your skin is hot, slicked with sweat from the exertion. He fights the urge to taste it, to lick at the saltiness of your skin, to taste you on his tongue. 

Later, he reminds himself. 

“Let go.” He grunts, his breath fanning your face. “Let me feel you.” 

Your eyes roll back as if he has that much command of your body, your legs tightening around him as you reach your peak. Your walls flutter, tightening and releasing around him, the mechanics of nature to draw him to his own release. 

He lets himself go, burying his face in your throat as he spills into you. His body trembles with yours, length twitching as he fills you with his release. For a moment, just a fraction for a second he imagines it, his seed taking root, a half-elven child that takes after you. He wrenches the thought from his mind as if it’s a burning ember, refusing to allow such a daydream to take over his mind. 

He pushes himself up to his elbows, staring down at you. His hair curtains around you, soft locks caressing your skin. You're breathing heavily, chest still heaving beneath him. Your eyes are lidded, face nearly as relaxed as it had been when you were sleeping. Your skin is still slicked with sweat, strands of your own hair sticking to your skin. You look ruined and he has barely begun. 

You look beautiful. 

It’s not love, he muses as he stares down at you. He could never bind himself to such a temporary thing as yourself. Lust, perhaps curiosity, fascination even, that’s brought him to desire you in such a way, that’s entangled you both. He allows himself a moment of tenderness as he brushes the hair stuck to your forehead, his lips pressing softly against yours. You lean into him, fingers brushing the tip of his ear as you trail your hands through his hair. 

Fascination, that’s all it is, he tells himself as another shiver runs down his spine. 

(I know I had a taglist a long time ago but it's been so long since I've written anything for this blog I'm not even sure if there's anyone on it anymore. I'm willing to put one together though if there's interest...)

[fanttasttica]

Family

Helion x reader, Rhysand x daughter reader

You never knew your parents and yourself. One day you decide to leave your home and try to find something about yourself and your family. You come to the Day court, where you meet their cunning High lord, who also happens to be your mate. But your mate isn't the only person you found..

warnings: mentions of nudity

words: 2764

It was a nice summer day. A wind gently caressed your cheeks, as you were looking at your friends, who were enjoying the day with their families. Fathers, mothers.. siblings. That was a luxury you have never known. You never knew your father or mother. The closest thing you had to parents were Christian and Lucille, who found you one day and raised as their own. You actually thought they were your parents, until they came clean when you reached your eighteen birthday. They knew you deserve the truth. Since then, you were jealous and happy at the same time for your friends, who had families on their own. You were watching them from a smaller distance, as they were laughing together wishing you could have something like that too. Not that you were not grateful for Christian and Lucille, you loved them but.. You wanted to find out who your parents were. Whose violet eyes were looking at you in the mirror? Did you have the same black hair as your mom? Was your smile similar to the smile of your father? Those were questions you earned an answer for.

You grew up in the mountains in Night court. Your village was quite small, nothing extraordinary here. It was not far from the borders the Night court shared with the Day court. You could walk there maybe after two or three hours. That means that sometimes you meet people traveling between these two courts. People who were more than willing to share stories. That was how you found out about Amarantha being dead. You knew her, of course you did. Everyone in Prythian did. She trapped all High lords under the mountain, took their powers.. They were helpless until one day a human girl named Feyre freed them. You were fascinated by her story. She was now your High lady, finally being happy with Rhysand, your High lord and you found that really nice. That they found each other after all that. You heard all stories about them and about other High lords and interesting people from travelers, merchants.. You were always listening to them very carefully, until one sunny day, when you decided to stop being the listener and become the traveler, narrator, yourself. It was an opportunity to get to know new places, people.. and maybe find out something about your parents.

“Are you sure you want to go? I mean..it can be really dangerous.” You smiled at your friends. “I am sure. I love you guys, I love this place but.. I just want to try and find out something about my parents, about me. And I think that's the thing I cannot accomplish here.” She sighed and nodded as a sign that she understands you. “Well.. I will not stop you, if that is really what you want. Just.. be careful and don't forget us.” You hugged her tight, trying to find back tears. “How could I ever forget you? You are my best friend, sister, even though we don't have the same parents. I will never forget you, don't worry. And also.. this isn't definitely the last time you see me. I will come back.”

It has been almost two months since you left. After almost a month of traveling, you came to the town which was surrounding the palace of Helion, the Day court´s High lord. Probably the sexiest male alive. You had only seen him once, from afar when he was walking and talking with some of his friends near the shop you worked. You found a job in a smaller café, simply because you needed money and you also quite quickly fell in love with the city and wanted to spend some time here. You weren't sure how long you were going to stay.. A few months? Year? But it didn't really matter. Your job did not only provide you with the money , no. It also helped you meet a few nice people you befriend and could spend time after work. It was nice, the days were not the same as in your old village. Every day brought something new, new skills you learned, new friends.. But the one day that stood out above all the days.. was the one when you met your mate.

It was almost noon when the bell rang and he walked into the café, where you were currently working. Helion stood in the doorway and was looking around the place as if he was searching for something, or rather someone. And then, suddenly, he looked at you, his already big smile grew even bigger. At that same moment, you felt something in your chest, in your heart. Mating bond. It snapped immediately, taking the air from your lungs. You blinked a few times, not daring to move or look away from his gaze as he walked closer to you. “Hello my little sunshine.” 

From that moment, you didn't spend a day without a stolen moment with Helion. You found out that he already knew about the mating bond. It snapped for him a few minutes before he came in, as he was casually walking around the café. He saw you and needed only a few minutes before you he plucked up the courage to go talk to you. You decided to take things slowly. He was coming to the café, where you chatted when you were working. After a week he invited you to a date, to a beautiful restaurant, theater, then he took you on the picnic.. And that's basically how you ended up waking up in his large bed, with nothing but sheets on your naked body. 

You two were seeing each other for almost three months. It was already winter, but that did not bother you. Helion was hugging you, his big and warm body was better than any blanket in the whole world. You were enjoying this quiet morning in his embrace, when you felt he was already waking up. His breathing changed and grip on you strengthened, as if he also wasn't ready to wake up and leave your bed. You giggled at him, whereupon he grunted. “Is there something funny, sunshine?” You sighed happily. “Just one certain High lord who is behaving like a little child who doesn't want to share his toy with anyone else.” He chuckled, turned you around, so you were now lying on your back on the comfortable mattress and he was towering over you in all his glory. You bit your lips at this sight. “But I don't want to share you with anyone else.” He started placing soft kisses on your neck, which was full of hickeys from the previous night. “I don't think that's possible. My shift is starting in an hour and you also have a lot of work.” You argued, trying to keep your thoughts clear, even though the idea of ​​spending the whole day with your mate in bed was more than tempting. “That's why I want you to quit. You know I can take care of you, I want to take care of everything you need or want” This time it was you who chuckled at his idea. “And what would I do? Spend all my time in your bed, waiting for you to return? It would be boring.” You caressed his beautiful face. Admiring his beauty, before he spoke again. “You could always come with me to the meetings, sit on my lap and warm me.” He winked at you, as you punched him slightly in his biceps. After that his face grew more serious. “I love you Y/N. More than my court, more than the sun, more than everything else.. Just say you want this and I promise I will give you everything in the world. I will make you my High lady. My equal. Just one word is enough.” 

It wasn't that hard a decision. You loved Helion with your whole being. You couldn't imagine a day without him. So you finally agreed. You gave him your answer that day, in the evening, when you served him dinner made by you. It was simple, private and even though Helion was known for parties, he really appreciated this. Mainly because after the meal he could immediately take to to the bedroom and fuck you all night without any disturbance. The only thing that was left to declare you his High lady. You urged him to wait a little. When you officially accepted the bond you also moved to his palace the next day and you simply wanted to get used to the new surroundings and to the bond, which was now stronger than before. He of course agreed to your wishes. But you still were slowly making plans for the celebration, because you decided to make this event publicly. Helion thought that it was only fair for his, yours, people to have an opportunity to witness this moment, when the first High lady of the Day court was crowned. And believed him, wanting to also make people happy, to make a good first impression and that was probably not possible if you were hiding in the shadows on that important day. You also decided to invite your and some of Helion's friends, which also included some other High lords and their families. You personally invited Thesan - High lord of the Dawn court, High lord of the Winter court and his wife, Tarquin, who was Hugh lord of the Summer court and lastly.. High lord, High lady of the Night court and their Inner circle. 

Before every meeting with other High lords you were incredibly nervous and Helion was trying to calm you down as he could and he was successful, but this time.. It was different and you weren't sure why you felt this way. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, your hands were sweating.. Maybe because you were supposed to meet the only other High lady that existed? Or maybe you were just nervous because you have heard a lot of stories about all of them? Rhysand was the most powerful High lord, his mate had powers of all seven High lords and her sisters were made by the Cauldron.. Not mentioning Cassian and Azriel, who were alive for more than five hundred years and killed more people than you have met in your lifetime. “Don't worry Y/N. They are really nice and don't bite more than me and you are already used to that.” Helion winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. This was something about him that you absolutely loved and at the same time found annoying. He was such a flirt. “I know and I believe you. Honestly.. I am not sure why I am so nervous.” You as and at the same time tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Before your mate could respond to you, you heard the sound of the door opening. You looked behind you and to your surprise you met the same eyes you had  and they stared back at you in shock.

There was silence as the others entered the room as well. They were looking at you with shocked expressions and you returned it, mainly to the man that had the same eyes as you. And after a few moments you noticed that the eyes were not the only thing you shared. You also had the same hair, similar features. In the end it was Helion who broke the silence. “I.. I never realized that.” It wasn't surprising he was not very receptive to these things. “That's.. How?” High lady asked, turning to face her mate, who also finally recovered from the shock. “I have no idea, Feyre darling.” He took a few steps towards you. You looked at Helion, not sure what to do. What to say. Was it even possible? Was this really your father or was it some cruel joke made by the Cauldron? How did it happen? “It's her.” You heard a sweet voice from the group. A girl, a woman, in a pink dress came closer. You shared a confused look with your mate. “The girl from my visions. Rhys's daughter.” 

To this moment, the only person who almost made you faint was Helion but when that woman said those words.. You had to grab your mate's strong arms, because otherwise you would be laying on the ground. This did not go unnoticed by your father and your mate, who grabbed you by your waist, holding you firmly. It was not only supporting in standing, it was calming you at the same time. Your father looked with worry. “Are you okay?” He asked you, you nodded in response. “I am, it's just.. a shock.” He smiled at you. “That's understandable. It's a shock for both of us. Well.. for all of us. He turned to his mate and Inner circle, as if he was having a quick conversation with them. After that, they came closer, introducing themselves with bright smiles. You have learned that the lady who was obviously a seer was Elaine, sister of your father's mate. It was Feyre who introduced herself to you last. It was a little bit weird for you, since she was a little bit younger than you and practically your step-mother, but she seemed nice. “By the way, what are you doing here? And how did you find my daughter, Helion?” You almost forgot they didn't know. Inviting High lords to your celebration was also a moment when Helion introduced you to them as his mate for the first time. He looked down at you and you gave him a simple nod. “Well.. she is my mate. And also my future High lady. We wanted to invite you to the celebration personally.” 

Once again, they were shocked, especially your newly found father, who was looking between you and Helion. You wanted to say something. Something that could make this situation a little bit less weird, but couldn't find the right words. In the end, silence was broken by Cassian's and Morrigan's augh. “Well, I did not see that coming.” Your aunt said with amusement in her voice. You smiled nervously, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the thin air. “Congratulations, it's amazing.” Feyre told you kindly and shook Rhysand's hand, so he would wake up from his trance. “Yeah.. congratulations.”He looked from you to Helion. “You better make her happy.” His words warmed up your heart. It was nice of him to look after you only after knowing you for maybe ten minutes. Maybe you were an adult, but that didn't mean you couldn't create a loving bond with him. After the first shock, you finally felt happiness. You had a parent! A father! And at that moment you realized something. With a hope in your eyes you turned to Elaine. “Do you also know who my mother is?”

The smile on her face and the faces of the others froze. Well, except for you and Helion, since you didn't know anything. Elaine swallowed hard, making eye contact with both your father and Feyre, again having some type of silent conversation. After a while, your father sighed. “Your mother.. Well.. Things get a little bit complicated here.” He breathed out. “Maybe you already heard of her. It is.. Amarantha.” It had to be incredibly hard for him to say that. After he said that, he looked away, hurt from memories that came back only after saying her name out loud. 

Of course you were in shock after finding out who your parents were. Being the daughter of the most powerful High lord and also a person who imprisoned not only him, but also your mate and a lot of other people.. Being the daughter of the person who killed and who was the main villain of many people's nightmares wasn't the best thing that could happen to you. But you were lucky to have your mate and also your father on your site. After finding out, you were really sad, angry, ashamed and also worried about what other people would think. What would Helion think? But luckily, he didn't care at all. He supported you, when you were recovering from the news and trying to accept them. He supported you when you tried and later successfully created a bond with your father, but also Feyre and their Inner circle. You were very lucky to have him, to have all of them. You finally had your own happy family.

[vasito-de-leche]

I love how you write, your interpretations of characters are my favorite. If you're okay with it, may I ask for romantic headcanons of Horropedia (Reverse 1999) x Reader? I would love to know what he is like when he's developing a crush, how he confronts his feelings when he realized them, what he's like when in a romantic relationship, etc. Thank you very much!

;R1999 HORROPEDIA - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Horropedia in a romantic relationship.

awe! i'm glad you like my stuff! and thank you for the lovely words and request, cause i've been itching to write for horropedia <3

i got a liiiiittle carried away with this one, hope that's alright!

Horropedia as a character is fascinating because at a surface level he's a mess and a walking stereotype - a "nerdy nerd" with a very specific hyperfixation on the horror genre, the tall guy with glasses who explains the plot and does his own thing regardless of how others view him, the first one to die in a movie solely because he's perceived as cringe etc, etc.

And yet, his medium is "logic" - he, better than anyone, understands the nonsensical laws that make up the concept of horror, he sees the patterns and the reason why some things are done this way instead of that way. Through logic, pattern recognition and analysis, Horropedia can pretty much understand anything and work his way around any problem, no matter how unorthodox his solutions may be.

In a sense, I'd compare Horropedia to Pavia. Both are characters who are subject to the stereotypes and images others assign to them - but whereas Pavia both fights and plays into all of these roles, Horropedia just brushes it off and continues doing his own thing, being genuine and unapologetically himself.

When it comes to romance, it's easy to assume Horropedia has no interest in it - they're two different genres that don't go together most of the time. It's also easy to assume that he would be a troublesome partner, due to the laser focus attention he gives to his interests. And the latter is partially true: his lackluster love life is entirely because romance hasn't entered his radar, at least not enough to pull his attention away from his one true love.

But I think this is where the aspect of "logic" comes into play. All Horropedia needs is that spark, to find something to truly become invested in when it comes to romance - once he finds it, he'll dedicate the same amount of attention to detail and care as the horror movies he loves so much.

On the subject of Horropedia developing a crush.

Similar to Click, Horropedia would need some time to start noticing the signs of a crush - the difference is that Horropedia is a little quicker when it comes to realizing he's fallen for someone. His forte is horror movies, but he still knows a thing or two when it comes to other genres.

When he cannot rationalize his behaviour around you in a way that makes sense to his current fixation or situation, that's when he knows. And given how straightforward (to the point of bordering on obliviously rude) Horropedia can be, I'd say he'd also be the type to address this crush right away. Now that there's this brand new thing in his life, he'd like to understand it better - to dissect and study the way romance is potrayed, explore how it feels and just analyze it to hell and back. Basically, he wants to know the rules, to figure out how to best proceed.

Of course, he wouldn't dream of confronting you directly, only an amateur would do such a thing. Instead, he asks his friends and pretty much anyone within his general vicinity. He wants to understand romance from every angle, to hear about it from all sorts of people until he feels like he knows enough to start forming his own opinions.

His questions are all theoretical situations that begin rather innocent, innocuous. What does the hero of a romcom do to get the romantic interest? Does it follow a three act structure? And should the third act climax start with a confession or the breakup?

Overtime, they become a little more specific. To the point where his closest friends might suspect something is up, until Horropedia finds himself asking about your interests so that he can figure out the perfect gift for you. Just in case. He finds himself watching romcoms and making extensive research and charts and essays into the genres.

The funniest thing to me is that Horropedia would be extremely casual about this whole ordeal, this crush makes him extremely intrigued in the concept of romance (an oddity for someone so themed around horror), he finds himself staring at you from across the room (this is the third time he's walked into a door because of it) and so on and so forth. But he's so chill about it.

When confronted about his crush - should Blonney or anyone else decide to tease him a little by prodding - Horropedia has no problem blurting out that he has, indeed, fallen for someone. But he'll take your name to the grave, not out of shame or embarrassment but because "he doesn't want to spoil the plot, as obvious as it might be".

On the subject of Horropedia confronting his feelings and some more insight into his mentality.

I'd say there is this small possibility of Horropedia feeling disheartened if he begins to neglect his real passion for the sake of his feelings - it's that sort of guilt and shock one gets when they realize they've forgotten their wallet the moment they're meant to pay for dinner, or when they realize they've forgotten to turn off the oven.

Horror is a huge part of his life and who he is as a person - literally look at the name he's chosen for himself - and given how heavily coded he is to be neurodivergent, I can understand this aspect of him. The feeling like one must choose between two things they enjoy, and all the other things that might come with hyperfixation, both positive and negative.

This is the biggest obstacle for Horropedia when it comes to finally taking the first steps into forming a relationship with you or confessing - the irrational thought that by doing so, he's prioritizing you and romance over horror, something that he holds very dear. One of his stories gives some insight about Horropedia's relationship with horror and how it's something he shared with (and possibly was started by) his grandfather.

I feel like he'll grow a little distant, as a way to set some boundaries for himself or draw a line between his identity and his feelings for you, separate the two so that he doesn't have to feel guilty for giving one more attention than the other. Maybe he simply stops bringing up films around you, because "you're probably not that interested anyway". Masking, he's masking.

But overall, I can see Horropedia being capable enough to get out of this mindset by himself - or with a little help from someone else. Either way, he simply loops back to realizing the obvious: you two were friends, before he realized his feelings for you. You were fine with the whole Horropedia Experience. You liked him for who he was. And he liked you just as you were.

Horropedia is the one who confesses first, the one who asks you out. 100%. And it's so unnecessarily dramatic.

I DO think that Horropedia would make sure to be the one who confesses, just so he can put everything that he's learned about romance into play. And he delivers the most award worthy performance. It would be all about redirection, an unexpected reveal - his skills and animations are also all about fake outs and misleading the audience, after all.

In my head, there's this whole scene about Horropedia asking everyone to help him out confess to you, and everyone is so excited for it - but then he just asks them to fuel this slow rift that formed between you and him, to act vague, distant and mysterious should you ask Blonney or Tooth Fairy about him. Again, unorthodox and weird, but he's cooking. This is all done with the intention of forcing a confrontation between the two of you, just so he can pour his heart out right there - it's all or nothing.

Again, I want to insist that Horropedia, despite being a logical man, still makes as many aspects of his life revolve around the things that he loves and is interested in - he likes films, he likes you. And while romance is not his preferred genre, he still wants to explore all there is about it all thanks to you.

That alone should tell you how much you mean to him. Even if his methods aren't the "proper" way, you know he's putting his whole heart into this. It's all over the top, there's fake rain, etc etc. Of course, your reaction to this is up to you!

If you're mad at him for such convoluted plan, he'll sit there and allow you to scold him to your heart's content - he's used to it as one of the many troublemakers that the Foundation failed to raise as model students. If you laugh at him because of how ridiculous this guy can be sometimes, he'll laugh along, trying to get you to tell him what he could've been done better to get a third act reconciliation. And if you start crying, jump into his arms and play along then he'll be over the moon, trying every single impactful one-liner from every romcom he's watched in the past few weeks.

On the subject of Horropedia and how he acts when he's in a relationship.

Dating Horropedia is pretty easy, because you're dating your best friend. However, it is very easy to misunderstand Horropedia's way of showing affection - those who are more on the insecure side or less receptive to his subtleties may feel like there's been absolutely no shift in the dynamic, that he's treating you the same way he'd treat Tooth Fairy or Vertin.

This is far from the truth! Once Horropedia finally settles into the relationship, he grows very comfortable and allows himself to just exist around you - which isn't saying much since he doesn't mask as much around friends, but it's all about the subtle things!

I like to think Horropedia is very particular about space, as in he makes a point not to invade people's spaces if possible and he'd rather remain in his little bubble. But when it comes to you, he's very casual with physical touch. He's not as cuddly and touchy as characters like, let's say, Matilda, Jessica or Pavia, but being able to rest his head on your shoulder means a lot to him, or just have you lean on him when sitting together. This is pushed to the limit when you two pull all-nighters, binging all of your favorite movies.

He's on cloud nine when you pay attention to his ramblings and makes sure to listen when you ramble to him as well. More than often, he'll do his own little research into the topics you like, just so you have someone to properly discuss things with! Horropedia more than anyone knows what it's like to be brushed aside for being too much or too weird, to have no one listen. Despite his confidence, he has had days of feeling like he keeps on talking to a wall, so he doesn't want you to ever feel like that.

It's all about sharing interests and recommending things that you may like, keeping up with the latest events and so on and so forth, having looong discussions at night about whatever topic you two are extremely invested in.

If these discussions get a little heated and end up as arguments, expect Horropedia to insist on arguing because he's just stubborn like that - it'll take him time to realize that he might've hurt your feelings, or that he might've be hurting too, but he'll come around eventually to talk it out.

Overall, dating Horropedia would be fun because he's full of surprises and excitement, but he's also considerate in his own way.