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sortagaysortahigh · 10 days ago

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Loverboy | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds

A/N: Ok yall i had to get Bob out of my mind ok, idk man, ive got some hurt/comfort cooking up in my drafts but i wanted something cutesy and loving ok!!! Plus im on a witch!reader high rn like sorcerer type shi, it's only really mentioned a few times, nothing too crazy fr, Contains Thunderbolts* spoilers

Summary: It started as a joke, but truthfully, you would be the only one riding Bob into space. (Somewhat established relationship)

Warnings: Spelling and grammar errors </3, 2ND PERSON POV, Fluff!!!, cursing, mentions of violence, allusions to child abuse (bob/readers past), John Walkers a dick sorry guys im a hater, mention of Sam and Buckys divorce </3 smut: hair pulling, kissing (with tongue! o em gee!!), grinding, lowkey dry humping, handjobs, p in v unprotected secks (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk if you squint, praise!, switch!bob & switch!reader tee hee, oral (m receiving), spitting, hand holding

Word Count: 5.9k (shoutout to me for writing smth under 10k)

Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x Fem!Witch!Reader

Idk bro id kiss him on the mouth fr, even if he has thin lips he can still get a kith!!

It was supposed to be a joke, something light hearted! Today was already stressful enough, you hadn’t meant to make things awkward or tense!

Typically the New Avengers base wasn’t that bad, sure everyone had their quirks, and you honestly couldn’t stand John Walker, but over the past year or so, things had been going relatively well.

Everyone had found a sense of purpose, something that most of the anti-heroes lacked prior to deciding to become the ‘Thunderbolts’. Of course there were still bad days at the tower, everyone had bad days, especially a ragtag group of ex-criminals that had initially been sent on a mission to kill one another.

But, the more missions everyone went on, the stronger their bonds became.

That wasn’t enough to distract from the elephant in the room, being the fact that Valentina’s introduction of you all as the New Avengers spiked a multitude of controversy and bad press. Yes, you’d done good things together, but you weren’t exactly good people, not going into this at least.

Then there was the ongoing lawsuit between the ‘New Avengers’ and the team of Avengers that Sam Wilson had been creating. Those were the people that were deemed as real heroes, they were loved and adored, meanwhile you all were questionable at best.

The newest Space threat had been stressing Yelena out for a few months now, and considering most of the people in the room were juiced up super soldiers, science experiments gone wrong, and former assassins, it wasn’t exactly easy to get the U.S. Air Force and NASA to agree to provide you all with adequate ships that would transport you into space.

So all everyone could do was continue to monitor the situation.

You didn’t necessarily agree with being forced into the New Avengers, not when the only reason that you’d been there for the entire Void fiasco was because Sam had sent you to Washington D.C. to help with Bucky’s political agendas. More specifically his lackluster ability to speak on camera and in interviews.

“He’s a dumb, litigious man” you scoffed at Alexei, throwing the water bottle in hand at him, the bottle hitting him right in the abdomen earning a loud groan as the older man winced while grabbing the right side of his body. “Seriously? Why are you attacking me! I am right, Sam Wilson does not know anything”

You rolled your eyes from your seat beside Bob, now standing and walking over towards everyone while shaking your head.

“No, Sam Wilson is right, we were never supposed to be the Avengers, and I’m sorry but I don’t ever recall the Avengers working under the government. It makes sense that everyone ever is literally on his side, not ours”

Yelena sighed, now slumping over in her seat while looking down at the digital satellite report.

“If you were ugly and didn’t have super cool witchy magic, it would be so much easier to dislike you, you know?” you laughed at her, smiling as you took a seat on the large sectional beside her, glancing at the report, brows knit together in confusion.

“Your diagnostic scan is off, somethings interfering with the feed” Yelena looked from you to the tablet screen, then across the room at Bucky who looked miserable.

Everyone knew he wasn’t handling his ongoing fight with Sam well, and the fact that he was no longer a congressman as he didn’t get re-elected really damaged his ego.

You always told him he’d be fine, it’s not like he was turning into a full fledged brainwashed murderer anymore! A marital dispute wasn’t that bad. They weren’t even married, but the way they’d been bickering over the phone for the past six months, it sounded as if Sam and Bucky were in the middle of a heated divorce.

Then Alexei started on one of his rants about team, and unity, and the very eccentric jumpsuit he had on. He looked like a mediocre NASCAR driver, and the suit was way too colorful for you. Plus the velcro patched on ‘z’ at the end of Avenger was making it look even worse.

“I’ve got one for all of you!”

You shook your head, then glanced back towards Bob who was already looking in your direction, you smiled at him before focusing back on Alexei. It was easy to drown everyone out, you’d gotten used to their presence, most days it was like Walker and Ava weren’t even there.

Although, Ava liked to keep to herself, so that part made sense. But Walker? He was constantly flirting with you, especially after practically announcing to the team that he and his wife were splitting for a while, but he did get to visit his kid often. He was like a feral dog trying to chase whatever bitch in heat he could find.

Except you were not a bitch in heat, and you did not like that man whatsoever.

“If only we had the Sentry who could fly!” you sighed again but before you had the chance to give Alexei shit for talking about Bob, he’d already responded.

“Sorry guys, I can’t be the Sentry without, well y’know” you nodded at him, he’d spent countless nights telling you about it, his fear of becoming the Void again, his fear of hurting everyone, of hurting you.

Before Alexei could respond you waved a hand, now the man couldn’t speak, frustration evident in his expression while he shook his head, hands waving in the air as he glared at you.

“I did the dishes though” you laughed a bit, smiling while looking back at Bob, shooting him a quick wink. Then you waved your hand again, Alexei now being able to speak.

“Woman! I have told you to stop doing that to me!” he shook his head, hands on his hips like a disappointed father while you shrugged, exchanging a look with Yelena before the both of you laughed again.

Then John spoke up “What are we just gonna ride Bob into space?” you responded before fully thinking about it. It was just a joke afterall.

“I’m the only one riding Bob.”

The tablet Bucky was holding was now on the floor, having slipped and fallen face-first against the concrete floors, while Bucky looked utterly shocked and disturbed at the comment.

Yelena simply laughed, nodding her head while high-fiving you.

Alexei’s neck cranked back as he held a disgusted look “you are like daughter to me! Don’t speak like that in front of me! I do not need to know what you and Bob do!”

Ava’s eyes widened, looking from you to Bob, back and forth over and over again “Oh my god! Is that what you two are always doing?! Having sex?! I thought you two just like really liked to read and stuff oh my god!”

Then John scoffed, arms crossed in front of his chest, rolling his eyes at the comment. “Yeah right, we all know Bobby over there isn’t getting laid” your brows knit together at that, slowly turning to face John, who now held eye contact with you.

You were debating on smiting him, it wasn’t the first time either. Bucky had stopped you from fighting John Walker on several occasions, he was always a pompous asshole, sure he’d gotten a bit better, but it was like he never recovered from getting the shield and his military honors revoked.

Then Bob spoke up “Sounds like you’re just jealous man”

Your jaw practically hit the floor.

Yelena nodded her head a few times, a proud look on her face while she observed everyone’s reactions. “The Bob I met fourteen months ago would’ve never said that, I’m proud of you-” she then glanced back at you “-and you, keep doing your thing with him” then she winked.

Before you knew it you were on your feet, rushing over to him and practically dragging him away with you while the room was full of shouts and cheers. Yelena had even been clapping.

Once you were fully out of earshot you turned to face him, lightly slapping his chest, your face and neck were on fire, your skin felt flushed and you were a definitive mixture between embarrassed and turned on.

“Dude! What the hell!” he laughed, the same shy smile that you’d fallen in love with on his face while he shrugged.

“Baby he had it coming” you nodded at that, shaking your head again with another groan “we’re never living that down! Did you hear what Ava said! Geez, mister confident over here” he smiled again, nodding at you before shrugging.

“He’s just kind of an asshole, I had to defend you-or us I guess…wait is there an us?”

It wasn’t a secret that you’d both grown rather close, it initially began when everyone had settled into the tower, the team getting more and more missions, and because you believed in free will, anytime they’d try to make you join them, you would decline. This wasn’t something that you’d wanted, your job was supposed to be one of Bucky’s political advisors pertaining to public relations.

You’d moved past using any form of magic to fight evil, especially after what had happened to Peter, but the only people who remembered him were at peak stages of insanity, or from other universes. Then there was you, the both of you had practically grown up together at one point, but he Blipped and you didn’t.

But after nearly breaking the fabric of the universe to combat the idiotic spells that Stephen Strange had cast to prove a point, you swore off of sorcery. It had it’s helpful moments, small tasks here and there, but fighting crime or being a hero wasn’t something you wanted for yourself.

So you opted to stay at the tower on ‘Bob duty’, and at first it was awkward, a lot of silent exchanges, a few accidents pertaining to dropping things or jump-scaring one another, but then something changed one day.

He asked you to brush his hair, it was so soft and subtle, he said he’d tried, but he just couldn’t, that he was too tired, he’d even explained how difficult it was to leave his room. So you invited him into your space, had him sit between your legs, and you brushed his hair for longer than necessary, running your fingers along his scalp to offer some form of comfort.

Then you both started warming up to one another, you’d ask him for help with the dishes, he’d ask if you wanted to read with him, and the more time spent together, the more you’d both started opening up to one another. Hell, you’d even dragged him plant shopping with you several times under the guise that ‘Bucky said I can’t leave you alone’.

It wasn’t difficult to fall for Bob, he made it really, really easy.

Sure, he had his bad days, but so did you.

He was one of the few people to ask you about your childhood for genuine reasons, most just wanted to know where the whole ‘magic’ thing came from. He asked you about the good and bad times, it was comforting in a way that you hadn’t expected.

You’d both sit together for hours when the tower was relatively empty, some days all you would do was read, others you’d talk through the sunset, into the sunrise. He’d shared bits and pieces of his past with you, gradually giving you more and more details.

Bob had even told you why he hated when Walker called him Bobby, you weren’t there in the void with them at that point, they had to find you in your own shame room. It wasn’t exactly horrible for you though, by the time they’d found you, you were repeatedly punching your own father in the face.

Everything had felt so real that day, when Bucky dragged you away, you’d thrown him off of you at first.

It wasn’t until a few months ago though, that you’d both finally crossed the line between being just friends and something more. You’d been watching the sunset on the rooftop of the building, your head leaned against his shoulder while you both sat in a comfortable silence when he finally asked why you constantly rejected Walker.

At first all you said was ‘cause he’s an asshole’, but when you finally moved to make eye contact with him, he was already looking down at you, and when you caught him, he didn’t blush and look away like he usually did.

He did blush though, but then you’d made the first move, slowly leaning into his space more and more until your lips were on his.

That night pushed you two past just being friends, and since then, he’d been wrapped around your finger. But to be fair, you were wrapped around his as well.

Things had gotten heated relatively fast, a few nights of built up tension led to you falling into his sheets easily, of course the first few nights did involve a few shattered glasses, one broken plant pot, and a cracked window, but once he figured out how to fully control the overwhelming rush of emotions that went hand-in-hand with genuine intimacy, things got easier.

He blinked a few times, brows knit together while he stared at you, you weren’t fully focused on him, a distant look in your eye at his question. You were clearly zoned out, thinking about something and at this exact moment he wished he could read minds. He was starting to overthink things, maybe you two were just friends and he’d been thinking too far into it, people that were friends hooked up all the time.

But he wasn’t sure if they stayed together for hours after, holding one another while speaking in hushed voices about anything and everything.

“Uh it’s okay if we’re not y’know-a thing, uh” you shushed him, blinking a few times, then your smile was back on your face. You were quick to lean in and kiss him, it was a fast kiss, if anything, just a light peck.

But your smile was genuine and reassuring “Yes-there is an us”.

Then the door to your left slammed open, smacking the wall while Yelena and Ava fell to the floor.

Without thinking Bob had pulled you towards him so you were now standing a bit behind him, it was instinctive. Meanwhile Yelena and Ava rolled over, now on their backs while they caught their breath.

“You know, you two are so cute! I knew I was right about you guys! Ava didn’t believe me, can you believe that! Also why are the floors so hard here, that really hurt” you shook your head at Yelena, doing your best to fight the laughter bubbling in your chest as you grabbed Bob’s hand.

“Okay nosey rosies, we’re gonna be in my room! See you guys later!” with that you gently pulled him behind you, walking towards the elevators that led to your floor.

The elevator ride was relatively quiet, but it was a comfortable silence between the both of you, and once the elevator had stopped at your designated floor, without zero hesitation you grabbed his hand, dragging him behind you while heading in the direction of your room.

He didn’t protest, instead he walked right behind you, the same dopey smile on his face that he always had when you two were together.

Once you were both inside, you locked the door while he made himself comfortable on your bed, now laying flat against the plush mattress and pillows. Turning around made you laugh at the sight, he was surrounded by your several different pillows and blankets while he leaned his head forward a bit to look at you.

“You’re so pretty” your smile was bright as you approached the bed, easily slotting yourself beside him, pushing a few blankets to the ground in the process of getting comfortable. It wasn’t like the bed was small, but you’ve always been the kind of person to need twenty pillows.

Eventually you ended up on your stomach, one leg tangled between his, meanwhile you held your upper body up with one hand resting against your chin, the other tracing shapes into his chest. He was flat on his back, one hand resting against his abdomen, the other outstretched to make space for you beside him.

“Robert, do you wanna get married and run away?” his eyes shot open, he’d been enjoying your embrace, eyes shut while he relaxed, but the minute you finished your sentence his heart was practically pounding out of his chest.

“W-what?” you couldn’t hold in your laughter.

“Okay I’m sorry, bad time for random jokes, I just wanted to see if you were awake” he nodded his head, eyes still wide, facial expression emulating distress and shock.

“I’m definitely awake now, y-you can’t just say things like that to me” you raised a brow at that “why?” he sighed “because-you know why-what the hell baby?” The nickname made you smile again, now leaning closer to his face, a few inches away from him.

“I don’t think I know why, you think I’m like un-marry-able or somethin? I’d marry you, probably give it a year or so, but I would” the tone shift in your voice was evident as you spoke, starting off in a joking lighthearted manner, then flowing into a seriousness that you only reserved for specific occasions.

“But I think I’m okay with being your annoying girlfriend for now, besides, I love you” his fingers intertwined with yours, offering a gentle squeeze while his brows knit together, eyes studying your features as if he was looking for an ounce of doubt. He’d never heard you sound so sure of something.

“Y-you love me? You sure?” you looked taken aback by the question.

“Did you just ask me if I’m sure I love you?” he nodded at that. So instead of responding you took a second to sit up, then grasped his arm, pulling him forward slightly, using a tinge of magic to help. Now he was sitting up and you were resting on your knees staring at him.

“I mean I’m me, and you’re-well you’re you. I dunno, I just didn’t think you’d like let alone love someone like m-” you shushed him, jaw clenched slightly as you shook your head “don’t even say that. You’re perfect the way you are, and yeah you’ve been through some rough shit, but we all have. It doesn’t make you unloveable or undeserving Bobby”

There it was, the nickname that you’d only ever brought out in moments like these, private moments away from the world, when it was just you and him.

It was the only time that he loved the nickname, if anyone else called him it, it brought forward feelings of distress, anger, and shame, but with you, you said it so softly and lovingly. It was as if all of the bad had been washed away the second the word would slip past your lips.

He bit his bottom lip, glancing down at your hands, now noticing that you’d still been holding his hand, except now you held his larger hand in both of yours, thumbs carefully caressing his skin in back and forth motions. He took a few moments to look at you, the soft golden glow in the room highlighted against your skin, painting you like an angel.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve someone like you in his life, someone who cared so deeply and loved so passionately. Plus you were mean to anyone that was an asshole, so that was always a bonus.

“I love you. I don’t care if we’ve only known each other a year, I don’t give a shit if it makes me crazy, I don’t care- I love you” as you spoke, you straddled his lap, arms wrapping around his shoulders, resting your forehead against his.

“I love you too”

Then your lips were against his again and your hands were in his hair. You took the lead, your body was practically on auto pilot as your lips connected with his. The kiss wasn’t soft, but it was passionate, lips moving in sync, a bit of teeth clashing as you lightly tugged on his hair, then the kiss was filled with heavy breaths, tongue, and smiles.

Naturally your hips started slowly grinding against him, one of his hands on your waist, the other caressing your cheek, pulling you into him even further. The deeper the kiss got, the faster your hips moved against his prominent bulge.

When you pulled away for air you made sure to bite his bottom lip slightly, offering a sultry smile after, eyes moving from his now swollen lips to his hooded eyes, they were glazed over, a hint of gold shining through his pupils.

“I’m the only one riding you right?” he nodded his head, his dopey smile back on his face, then you leaned back into his space, except you were now trailing kisses along his jaw, your teeth lightly nipping at his ear before whispering “can I ride you today?”.

Then your lips were back on his throat, sucking and nipping marks into his skin, prior to his, you did your best not to leave any visible marks on him, but after certain comments today, you had a point to prove.

His breathy moans spurred you on, your hips still grinding against him, moving a bit faster while you focused on his throat, moving from one side to the other before lightly tugging on the collar of his sweater then slowly biting against his pulse point.

You looked at his throat like a piece of art, a satisfied smile on your face at the look of the pink and red marks covering his pale skin. Then your eyes found his and he stared at you with a sea of emotion, the slight golden flicker prominent while he bit his bottom lip, smiling.

“I think you’ve proved your point” you shrugged, laughing a bit “mmm, I dunno Bobby, I haven’t even gotten to take my ride” with that your hands moved to the bottom of his sweater, slowly sliding it up his torso until he’d pulled it off, tossing it aside somewhere, then you were pushing him back onto the bed again, lips back on his skin.

He let you do whatever you wanted to him, one hand behind his head, now watching your movements, his other hand grasping the comforter below.

You moved lower and lower, kissing along his defined abdomen, leaving a trail of wet bruising kisses against his warm skin, then you were staring at him from between his legs, eyes half-hooded, biting your bottom lip, while you dragged your fingers along his waistline, tracing the defined edges of his lower abdomen before slowly unbuttoning his pants.

“You’re gonna kill me baby” you smiled at that, nodding your head “if I wanted to, I would pretty boy” he practically whimpered, the sound made you giggle while unzipping his pants, taking a moment to lightly tug them down his hips a bit, giving yourself more access to him.

“Can I see you?” the question was so sweet and subtle, his mind felt hazy watching as you stared up at him, eyes on his own while you waited on his answer. He nodded his head a few times, letting out a low gasp as you slowly slid his briefs down, fingers grazing over the thick shaft of his cock.

Once you’d pulled his cock out of its constraints you moaned, the sound had him bucking his hips into your hand that was wrapped perfectly around him. Your movements were slow and precise, it was clear that you were teasing him, but before he could protest, you were spitting on his cock, pumping your hand along his cock faster and faster, giggling at his strained moans and whimpers.

You leaned forward, placing a kiss to the tip of his cock before kitten licking it a few times, then wrapping your lips around him, taking him slowly into your mouth, inch by inch until you’d gone as far as you could-gagging on him slightly.

Then you moved away, a string of spit connecting your bottom lip to the head of his cock.

“Have I ever told you how pretty your dick is Bobby? How pretty you are?” he nodded his head again, both hands now on his face while he leaned back into the pillows, muffled moans leaving his parted lips.

Your eyes moved along his cock from its base to the reddened tip, tracing the few prominent veins along his shaft, alongside the swollen head of his cock, all of it with a spit-slick sheen. Then your tongue was back on him, licking along the thickest vein, tracing it like a lollipop.

Beads of precum were leaking from his tip, you switched between using your tongue to gather it, and spreading it with your thumb. You were playing with him, and he was going crazy.

“Baby-please fuck-honey” you looked back up at him, tongue out as you tapped his cock against it, he was now looking at you, desperation evident on his flushed features. His entire upper body had a light red flush, his chest rapidly rising and falling while he moaned above you.

“Okay, I’ll stop teasing you” With one final kiss to the head of his cock you stood up, making a show of taking off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them, bending over and arching your back as you slid them down your body. Once they were off, you reached for your sweatshirt, taking it off and tossing it at him-earning a laugh in response.

You stood in front of him in just your panties and a fitted spaghetti strap tank top.

“You want me to do a little dance for you?” he smiled, shaking his head, now sitting up on his elbows, eyes moving along your figure, very clearly admiring you with a shy smile as if you weren’t just sucking him off. Then you spun around, laughing while jumping a bit, the fat of your ass jiggling at the motion-then you were bending over and his eyes were wide as he watched you slowly slide your panties down your legs.

The evident wet patch in the dark fabric had him biting his lip, but the way they slightly stuck to your slick cunt as you shimmied out of them had him groaning again. Then you were standing up again, facing him while tossing your panties directly at his face.

“Consider it a gift for later” you winked while getting back on the bed, easily slotting yourself above his waist, straddling him yet again, then you were reaching between your thighs, grasping his cock again, slowly sliding it along your cunt before sinking down. You were tired of the teasing, and truthfully, you’d been soaked the entire time.

It was easy to fall into a rhythm with Bob, one of his hands now on your waist, the other intertwined with your own while you did your best to focus on riding him, your hips rising and falling, bouncing against him, enjoying the fullness.

Your moans were getting louder, and your pace was faltering.

While you usually took the lead, you didn’t exactly have the best stamina, not when it came to riding him especially given his size. It wasn’t an easy adjustment the first few times you’d slept together, but now you were used to it, and it drove you mad.

He knew you were already getting tired, offering a love-drunk laugh as you leaned down, forehead resting against his shoulder while you bounced on his cock. He slowly started meeting your movements, hips lightly rising into you, the new movement made you whimper, teeth grazing against his skin.

“You’re doing so good baby” you nodded at his praise, moving to place open mouthed kisses along his jaw. “Just like that, ‘s okay, keep going honey” you whimpered, doing your best to keep going, but your thighs were burning and the pleasure was overwhelming.

Then he wrapped his arm around you, and in seconds you were on your back and he was above you, the sudden movement making you laugh while looking up at him, you squeezed his hand, smiling at the sight of your intertwined fingers.

“Figured you needed a break” you giggled again, rolling your eyes, voice a bit raspy as you mumbled “was it that obvious?” he nodded his head at that, now laughing with you.

Then he was using his other hand to push one of your thighs back slightly, adjusting the angle of his hips before he started slowly thrusting into you, both of your moans blending into one another while he built his own rhythm.

It wasn’t too fast or too slow, the perfect inbetween that had your nails scratching along his back, while you moaned his name, over and over again-enjoying every second of this.

Once he had the perfect angle, he used his free hand to gently pull your tank top down, your tits bouncing with every thrust, the sight had his mouth watering. He was quick to lean into your space, lips on your chest, kissing along your breasts, tongue trailing your hardened nipples one at a time, earning several moans.

While he nipped marks into your skin, he moved his hand to hold your thigh in place, using it to better leverage himself.

Your hand was in his hair now, tugging at the chestnut locks while you moaned his name. The coil in your abdomen was tightening, pleasure overwhelming your senses.

“I’m gonna cum” he nodded his head, now moving his hand from your thigh to between your legs, fingers quickly finding your clit, rubbing half-moons into the sensitive bundle of nerves, as he listened to your high-pitched gasp, your walls fluttering around him at the added pleasure.

You started rolling your hips into him, using your free hand to pull him closer to you, lips back on his, struggling to kiss him as you whimpered against his lips. Your nails dug into his back while you held him close, feeling the coil in your abdomen getting even tighter to the point that you were practically panting against his lips.

Your words were clear as you moaned “I fuckin love you-oh shit”, your back arching into him, hand pulling him closer as your orgasm washed over your entire body, legs shaking slightly at the feeling of him fucking you through it, cock still rocking into you, prolonging your orgasm.

Then as you slowly started coming down, you felt his hips tense slightly, then he was pulling out of you with a low moan, and in seconds he was coating your stomach with thick ropes of cum, the sensation making you giggle.

“Y’know, you could just cum inside of me” he groaned, head now resting in the crook of your neck as he caught his breath, then he slowly moved back, resting on his haunches while you lifted yourself with your elbows, glancing down at the edge of your now ruined tank top, and the evident strings of cum coating the soft pudge of your stomach.

“I don’t think I’m ready for a kid” you were laughing again, hazy smile on your face as you shook your head at him.

“Seriously pretty boy? I’m on the pill y’know” he shrugged at that, slowly tucking himself back into his briefs as he stood up, adjusting his pants for a second before walking towards your en suite bathroom. He was back within a few minutes, now holding two small towels, one wet, the other dry.

He took his time cleaning you up, he always did. “Even if you’re on the pill, we uh-gotta work up to that. I think I might shatter a window the first time I do that” you smiled, shaking your head, now glancing over at the window on the opposite side of the room, eyes tracing the glass to check for any cracks.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t break anything-I already looked around” he spoke as he walked towards one of your dressers, opening the second drawer from the top, pulling out a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top for you, he then threw them at you, smiling while you caught them, tossing your ruined shirt on the ground beside your shared pile of clothes before pulling the new top on.

After freshening up in the bathroom, and putting the new shorts on, you joined him in bed once again, except this time he was in pajama pants without a shirt on, clearly waiting for you to join him.

“Y’know maybe John’s always an asshole cause he’s totally jealous of your abs” you wiggled your brows while you spoke, climbing into the bed beside him, easily propping yourself up beside him, fingers back on his chest and abdomen while he wrapped an arm around your shoulders knowing that it would most likely be numb within ten minutes.

“Or he’s an asshole cause he’s just as asshole” you nodded at that “yeah, probably huh?”

Then you kissed him again, a light peck “I love you Robert” he laughed at your serious tone, followed by you wiggling your brows at the mention of his full name.

He said your full name, winking “-and I love you too”.

The two of you had fallen asleep shortly after that, you were nuzzled into his side and he was flat on his back, embracing you and your warmth.

It wasn’t until several hours later that the hushed commotion in the room had woken the both of you up, well that combined with the large overhead lights that you hated turning on, being on.

“See! I told you it was real! I mean look at Bob! He looks like he was attacked by a vampire! And look how close they are! Plus the pile of clothes! They’re clearly dating and having sex!” Yelena’s whisper was more like a hushed shout as she motioned around the room, then at the two of you in bed together.

“Yel, invading their privacy isn’t being good team members or found family members or whatever your dad calls it!” Ava groaned, her hands on her hips while she looked from Yelena to you and Bob’s resting figures. Her eyes widened slightly as she noticed you shifting around, and in turn, Bob moving as well.

“God damnit, here Yelena” John was clearly irritated as he handed Yelena two twenty dollar bills, shaking his head at the sight of Bob’s hickey-covered skin, and you nuzzled against his skin. It didn’t help that you were both also sharing a blanket, and you looked so calm and comfortable, the exact opposite of how you typically looked.

“Can you all shut the fuck up and get out?” your voice was raspy and hoarse as you squinted your eyes, sitting up slightly at the sight of them. Then Yelena shushed everyone else, mumbling out ‘sorry to interrupt! Please go back to sleep and being in love and stuff!’ then the lights were off and the door slammed shut.

Bob laughed, leading to you lightly slapping his chest.

“Don’t encourage them before they try to ride you into space” he snorted at your joke, shaking his head, a sleepy smile on his face.

“I thought you were the only one riding me?”

Thanks for reading secksies <3 MWAH

#bob reynolds x reader #bob sentry fic #bob reynolds x y/n #bob reynolds fluff #bob reynolds smut #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds smut #robert reynolds fluff #robert reynolds fic

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nyxxxatnite · 3 months ago

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Part 2 for poison??? Where he goes back to reader for another hook up but this time he needs to be close to her. Like legs wrapped around him and her hands in his hair while he practically latches himself onto you. Smut smut smut. He secretly really likes her but doesn’t want anyone to know yk keeping up with his asshole facade

antidote (poison pt2)

Plot: last time should have been the last time, just like he said. But when he comes crawling back, needier than ever you can’t help but come back pt.1

Pairings: asshole!Wally Clark x loner!fem!reader, alive!wally x alive!reader

warning(s): the obvious SMUT!, fluffy end, wally actually ends up being nice and in love? Characters are 18!!! Unprotected sex (WRAP IT), public sex!! Creampie!! Fucking POORLY written. NOT PROOFREAD

a/n: HI GUYS. okay so ik its been a minute 💀 im sorry i usually pump these out and get serious writers block but im TRYING. okay i also know you said to keep him an asshole but i NEEDED fluff!! Enjoy!

Finding yourself at the schools Friday night football game was NOT on your agenda, but you couldn’t help it. You felt drawn in and one of your newer friends BEGGED you to go with her so you did, reluctantly. The stands were PACKED with parents, siblings and other family members along with almost ALL of your classmates. Had football really been THIS popular?

you gave a low groan as you ducked and weaved through the crowd, trying not to get hit or bumped into. It wasn’t working out very well. Small sorry’s left your mouth as you finally wormed your way into your seat next to Julie, who was already teeming with energy.

“ i’m so excited. Monrovia has ALWAYS been a tougher team to beat, hopefully this year with Wally we can beat them. ”

At the mention of his name you tensed, you hadn’t seen or talked to him in what seemed like months (more so a week or two). A part of you, deep down ached for him, while the other part tried to keep you reasoned that he was the one that ended everything, he wanted nothing to do with you. And yet…somehow it felt like he still wanted you. None of the athletics (cheerleaders and football players) even stopped to say anything to you, or tease you about something so small. They just went on their merry way. Had he said something to them?

“ uh hello? Did you hear me? Wally’s looking at you! "

a small shake to your shoulders finally snapped you from your thoughts as your eyes moved to finally make eye contact with said football player. He was finally on the field after their introduction and was staring right at you from his huddle with his team. Once the both of you made eye contact he quickly looked away and popped his helmet on.

you shook your head, blinking yourself back to reality. What was his deal? The buzzers from the score board sounded, commencing the start of the first quarter of the game. The crowd around you buzzed to life in cheers as the boys got into formation after the coin toss, cementing that Monrovia would be starting with the ball. The first kick off was a strong one, sending the ball soaring to the back of the split river formation.

and like that the game set off into a very close, neck to neck game. One team would score and then the other would quickly swoop in and tie with their own touchdown. Everyone around you was on edge, Julie was screaming chants with the student section, making fun of the team and the other student section. You just sat quiet and cheered quietly when your team would score, trying not to burn in embarrassment. But slowly got into the energy of it all, starting to cheer in the last quarter of the game.

within the last few seconds of the game you shot up from your seat, cupping your hands around your mouth as you shouted.

“ GET THAT BALL TO THE END ZONE, WALLY! ”

His attention turned to you for only a second before something inside him amped up, making him sprint and dodge around the other team a bit faster. within the last second his feet finally landed in the end zone, signifying that they had scored the winning points and FINALLY got their hands on the win over Monrovia after years of losing. Loud screams and cheers erupted from the stands around you, the band immediately kicked in with their anthem as the team on the field flocked the quarter back in the end zone.

loud whoops and chants sounded from the boys as they hopped and shook with Wally in their arms, the other team standing dejectedly to the side, feeling the stab of loss from years of winning. You cheered loudly with your classmates, laughing happily as your friend latched onto you.

“ its like he HEARD you! You’re a fucking lucky charm! ”

she squealed happily and shook you, excitement bubbling from her as she darted off to some of her other friends to talk to them. Your attention finally turned back to the football team, seeing the ever happy Wally grinning and congratulating his teammates. His eyes then turned to you, a smirk playing at his lips as he sent you a wink. Butterflies seemed to spring from nowhere in your stomach at the motion, turning to look and see if he was sending it to anyone else, but no one else was paying any attention to the team. You looked back at him again and watched him mouth “stay after”, seeming to mean after the stadium cleared out.

After about an hour of waiting, almost everyone was cleared out of the stadium, lights beginning to shut off. You slowly started to lose hope he’d actually come talk to you, or even if he was still there. You carefully tossed your hood up as it started to drizzle, then pour. You sighed and turned, starting to walk toward the gates when a loud whistle echoed from the dressing rooms. Your head snapped to the source, seeing Wally walk out of the building. He was in his after game attire, hair in messy curls atop his head from the sweat and rain finally hitting his head.

you paused and crossed your arms, trying to keep up your “i hate you” mindset. But seeing him there after weeks made your knees feel like jello. What the fuck was going on in your head?! You tilted your head and watched as he got closer, making you step back

“ didn’t think you’d come to a game. But then i saw you in the stands, dressed in the schools colors with MY number of all numbers painted on your cheek. ”

you scoffed as he finally stopped before you, rolling your eyes as you looked away from him. She painted his number on your cheek? Did she know about you two hooking up or was this one of her dumb “he’s cute” things.

“ yeah, i didn’t paint this on, Julie did. Like hell id risk getting made fun of just to wear your number, Clark. "

He hissed in fake pain as you snapped at him, scrunching his face a bit to add to it. He chuckled and without a word tugged you close but your waist. You gasped in surprise as your chest collided with his, feeling the clothing start to get soaked from the heavy rain. What the hell was he doing?

“ you should wear it more often. Fuck all the time actually. Look..i was a fucking dumbass for pushing you away. Not being able to be near you drove me mad and made me realize some shit that i didn’t want to face. ”

your eyes widened as you realized he was about to confess his feelings. Were you even ready for that? Before he could even say another word you pushed yourself up and kissed him roughly, cupping the back of his head as you tried to keep him from saying anything. A small grunt sounded from the other as he immediately held onto your waist, keeping you close to his body.

the kiss started heated and just continued to stay that way, tongues meshing together in the middle as hands wondered each others bodys. And with hands wandering, came clothes starting to be removed. Were you about to fuck on the football field? You couldn’t really care less, you just needed him now. Moving yourself down onto the soaking grass, you felt him moved between your legs and carefully slip a hand between the two of you.

a small gasp leaves your mouth as he rubs at your clit for a moment, letting you get adjusted and wet enough for him to slip his fingers into your soaking center. Your eyes rolled back a bit from the stretch of his long fingers. Thank fuck for this lanky man, being blessed EVERYWHERE. small moans slipped from your lips as he pumped and curled his fingers in and out of you. Getting you nice and stretched was something he’s never done so it was a nice little change, it made your heart flutter in an odd way?

after a few minutes of prepping you he pulled his fingers out and used whatever wetness he had to lube himself just enough to carefully slip into your awaiting cunt, his eyes rolling back at the hug of your walls. Another gasp came from your throat as he slid inside of you, your hands clambering to grip onto his back to have some sort of tether to earth. He grunted and held still for a second, kissing along your neck and throat, arms winding around your middle to keep you close to him.

As much as your mind was SCREAMING at you to get the hell off the ground, you felt like you were in heaven. Especially when he started to finally fuck his cock in and out of your hot cunt. Moans and groans intertwined from the two of you as you fucked on the football field, rain poured around the two of you, drowning out your sounds so only the two of you could hear. You made an attempt to open your eyes, only to be met with Wally already looking at you. You whimpered softly and drew your eyebrows together, keeping eye contact as you moaned louder. Watching his face morph with pleasure at your sounds, feeling his cock twitch deep inside of you.

He carefully reached between the two of you, rubbing at your clit as he continued to pound into you. The knot in your stomach starting to tighten, feeling it start to verge on snapping. Your eyes rolled back a bit as it all began to be too much for you to even handle.

“ thats it baby, cum for me. Fuck, please cum. ”

he groaned out and placed his forehead to yours, feeling himself near his end as well. With a few final snaps into you, he was releasing everything he had into your awaiting cunt. And once you felt his load fill you, you threw your head back into the ground and cried out as you came not to far behind him. He kept his hips rocking, just to ride out your highs before slowly pulling out of you. He pushed himself up a bit and panted, looking at the absolute mess you were below him making him give a breathy chuckle.

“ we should probably hit the showers, babe. Were an absolute mess. ”

you slowly nodded your head, the after sex high still buzzing in your brain. You let him do what he needed, meaning letting him carry your naked form into the locker rooms to wash the both of you off. It was absolute silence as you stood under the water, somehow more awkward than the times before. Was it because of what he was going to say?

after washing off, you held the towel you were offered tight to your body. Finally registering that your clothes were out on the field still, ruined by the rain and the mud. But it was like Wally read your mind, carefully pulling out some extra clothes he had stuff away in his locker. You tugged on the sweat pants and the hoodie he offered you, humming softly at the warmth of them. He tugged on his own pair of sweats and a tank top, slowly turning to you as he shrugged on his letterman.

“ look…i..fuck. Okay so..i really like you. And i know saying that doesn’t really make up for how i treated you, but it just happened. I realized it when we fucked in the supply closet. And i understand if you don’t feel the same, i just really wanted to tell you. ”

you threw your hand up and covered his mouth to keep him from sputtering on anymore than he was, watching his cheeks and ears go red from embarrassment. You gave a soft giggle as you stared up at him, tilting your head a bit.

“ i like you too dumbass. As much as i hate that i fell for you, i did. ”

he visibly relaxed and moved your hand, tugging you closer as he carefully kissed you. This time keeping it gentle, full of passion. You could really get used to this sweet side Wally had hid away.

#milo manheim #milo manheim smut #wally clark x reader smut #wally clark smut #wally clark x reader #wally clark #school spirits

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winged-self-indulgence · 1 year ago

Text

Why Do People Like Yanderes?

Hi everyone, my name is Diya, and this was going to be a YT video-essay-type-thing but I'm too poor to afford a mic and too busy with college to learn how to edit videos, so here's my vague exploration of the psychology behind why people like yanderes so much through the lens of my favourite Visual Novels.

TW for uh. yandere content. Mentions of sex, gore, and non-con, particularly in the last topic. This is more like the first draft of an academic paper so while it's not explicit, I do go into some detail.

Introduction

If you’re a fan of anime or visual novels, then you’re probably already aware of what a yandere is, or at the very least you’ve seen that one picture of Yuno Gasai. Still, for the sake of thoroughness, let’s take it from the tippy top. The term ‘yandere’ is a Japanese portmanteau of ‘yanderu’ – the progressive form of ‘yami’ – meaning ‘sick’, and ‘deredere’ which roughly translates to ‘loving’. Together, the word refers to someone who is – in short – extremely lovesick. Obsessive to the extreme, and with little morality to spare, the standard yandere is characterized by a dangerous fixation on a chosen target, often appearing shy and caring at first only to flip the script and become violently aggressive towards perceived threats (Kroon, 2010).

It should be noted that yanderes are not a strictly romantic or sexual trope. The Ancient Greeks classified at least six forms of love, from familial (storge) to guests (xenia). Modern psychologists may distinguish love as either Companionate or Passionate (Kim & Hatfield, 2004) or consisting of three dimensions of Intimacy, Passion, and Commitment (Sternberg & Sternberg, 2018). Realistically, possessiveness shows up in a variety of relationships. However, people are generally primed to view certain dynamics as inherently amorous. Societal norms tend to encourage the idea that romantic bonds ought to rank above all others, and therefore if Person A is bizarrely fixated on Person B, then clearly there must be an element of sexual interest involved regardless of the actual relationship between the individuals in question.

Regardless, yanderes remain quite popular in fiction. Many dismiss it as a fetish, which it can be, but that isn’t the case for everyone. While there is nothing wrong with indulging in kinky fiction, not all of us get horny at the thought of being chained up in someone’s basement, no matter how hot our captor may be. So why is it so pervasive? Why is this trope so appealing that most writers cannot help but include at least a single line of dialogue implying that – if circumstances had been ever so slightly different – my wholesome shoujo romcom might have turned into a psychological horror?

Hybristophilia

‘Hybristophilia’, also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome after the titular criminal couple, is a word is derived from the Greek word ‘hybridzein’ meaning ‘to commit an outrage against someone’ and ‘philo’ which means ‘a strong preference for’. Sexologist John Money reportedly defined it as a paraphilia in which an individual is sexually aroused by a partner who has a predatory history of hurting other people (Money, 1986, as cited in Matuszak, 2017). In his book, Serial Killer Groupies, true crime and crime fiction author RJ Parker distinguished two forms of hybristophilia: passive and aggressive. The former is when an individual contacts a criminal with the intention of striking up a relationship with them, allowing themselves to be seduced and manipulated but having no interest in committing a crime themselves. The latter are far more dangerous, as the individual not only derives sexual pleasure from their partner’s atrocities but are active participants in carrying out or covering up the crime. To quote Griffiths (2013, as cited in Pettigrew, 2019):

“[They] help out their lovers with their criminal agenda by luring victims, hiding bodies, covering crimes, or even committing crimes. They are attracted to their lovers because of their violent actions and want to receive love yet are unable to understand that their lovers are psychopaths who are manipulating them.”

In some ways, hybristophilia is the nearest thing we have to a realistic understanding of why people love yanderes. I mean, much of the fantasy surrounding such characters and their media tend to be filled with posts begging to be spat on or calling the rightfully terrified main character ungrateful for being a teeny bit upset about finding surveillance cameras in their ceiling. However, enjoying fictitious immoral activity does not predict real perpetration, so what does? There exists little consensus amongst psychologists as to what sparks this particular predilection, and that was strange to me. You would think there would be more studies into this topic, in spite of or perhaps because of its controversial nature. Heck, that one dude wouldn’t shut up about white women’s obsession with Bundy and Dahmer, and I assumed he had gotten that information from somewhere, but it turns out that was just him using modifiers to justify sexism.

However, I believe that we can hedge a few guesses, and over the course of my research, I’ve organized the main rationalizations under four umbrellas which I will explore through the lens of my favourite yandere-themed Visual Novels. Please keep in mind that most of these games are rated as mature due to sexual scenes and/or gore. Additionally, in the spirit of transparency, this ramble will be focused exclusively on male or masculine yanderes. So, without further ado:

Call Me Bob the Builder Because I Can Fix Them

If you’re familiar with DC Comic’s Batman, or just happen to have attended any costume event held over the span of the last 20+ years, you may be familiar with the character of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, better known as Harley Quinn. Initially created as the Joker’s one-off sidekick in Batman The Animated Series, she was so well-received by audiences that she became a recurring character in the cartoon and was eventually given a proper origin story in the form of a one-shot titled Mad Love.

Harley’s origin story has seen some alterations over the past decades, but the core aspects remain largely untouched. In the beginning, Harleen Quinzel was a promising young woman who wanted was a degree from the university’s prestigious psychology department, which she gained through…less than scrupulous means.

(Listen, I’m not sure if the authors were leaning on the Dumb Blonde stereotype, or if they simply thought that casting her as a genuinely bad student would make her later actions more believable. Either way, the idea of Harley as someone with a legitimate PhD came later)

After landing an internship at Arkham Asylum – a half-hospital and half-prison straight out of the 1870s that might as well be built out of one-ply tissue-paper soaked with gasoline and left next to a crate of fireworks – Harleen set her sights on the then incarcerated Joker. At the start, her fixation on the criminal wasn’t remotely sympathetic. She didn’t want to help him, she wanted to use him. Harleen Quinzel wanted piggyback off his infamy and write a tell-all tale detailing what sort of messed up childhood resulted in Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime. Yet the more she interacted with him, the more the Joker took advantage of her empathy. By the end of their sessions, Harley no longer saw him as a violent serial killer with a clown schtick, but as a “lost, injured child looking to make the world laugh at his antics.”

But Diya, you may be asking, what does this have to do with the video? The Joker never loved Harley, and it could even be argued – as Shehadeh did in a 2017 essay – that her obsession with the pasty-faced clown is more akin to Histrionic Personality Disorder. While that may be the case, I believe that Harley’s story provides one of the reasons yanderes are so popular: their backstory.

Whether they were abandoned by their family, bullied by their peers, experimented on by evil scientists, starved on the streets, died under mysterious circumstances and then trapped in a haunted VCR tape for decades, or are simply so impossibly inhuman that they frankly do not understand why it isn’t socially acceptable to imprison their crush in a pocket dimension made of meat and non-Euclidean geometry, yanderes often have fairly sympathetic or at least understandable explanations for why they are Like That. Your mileage may vary significantly depending on how much you sympathize with these motives, but the point is that yanderes always make sense to some degree. Their morality and priorities may be twisted or even completely incomprehensible, but the audience almost always knows the reason, and that can be comforting. In the real world, other people aren’t always straightforward, and we never really know what they’re thinking, but narrative coherence demands a semblance of internal consistency lest the audience end up frustrated and confused. So yanderes are not only easy to sympathize with, but also fairly predictable. In-universe they may be unhinged freaks with a blood fetish, but to you watching from behind the safety of the screen they’re just acting out the script written for them based on a prototype. And if you understand the why behind their loose gears, then you might just be able to put them back together again.

The concept of rescue romances or “I Can Fix Them” has been around in our stories for thousands of years. The Epic of Gilgamesh detailed how Shamhat essentially ‘civilized’ wild man Enkidu through ritual lovemaking, and a concerning number of religions push the idea that women are dutybound to save men from the follies of sin. Yet men are not exempt either, with one notable example being the German fairytale, King Thrushbeard. Call it what you will regardless: Knights in Shining Armour, the Florence Nightingale Effect, or a plain old case of Because You Were Nice to Me, studies have shown that human beings generally like helping [DA2] others, even when the reason doesn’t necessarily stem from pure altruism. I will delve deeper into this later, but care and compassion are deeply ingrained in human nature, and arising from those roots is the appeal of this mentality: You can save them. You can change them. You can make them better. You are special, and the way you treat this person carries a weight that has not and will never be matched by anyone else for the rest of their mortal or immortal existence.

The illusion is a delicious one, especially if the person you’ve helped turns out to be a billionaire CEO with cash to burn, a super powerful ghost king willing to raze continents to dust for you, a demon having fun on a Friday night, or just your average hot creep with a knife. Moreover, different people have different ideas of what ‘fixing’ even means. Maybe you want to single-handedly rehabilitate your yandere into a functional member of society. Maybe you’re cool with the incessant stalking but would like them to stop slaughtering your friends, family, and local service workers. Maybe you want to make them much, much worse.

Not only do yanderes provide immediate proof that your actions have a tangible impact on the lives of others, but the fantasy also includes the desire of being seen as special. Of being admired and adored by someone whose life you inexplicably made better by virtue of simply being yourself, or an idealized version of yourself. In this fictional world, in this imaginary setting, the person you are is so uniquely, impossibly irreplaceable to someone. And if that’s the case then they can’t risk losing you, can they?

The Allure of Obsession, or ‘Til Death Do Us Part (Literally)

It shouldn’t be necessary, but here is my obligatory disclaimer anyway. Ahem: obsession is not a good thing in real life. Fixating on another human to the detriment of your own wellbeing and that of those around you is dangerous, as is encouraging someone else to obsess over you. You might think you are being worshiped, but real life is not a visual novel. The outside world doesn’t come with an age rating, the author’s guiding pen, and a convenient fade to credits sequence once you’ve reached an ending. The consequences will still be there in the morning, so don’t do it. Just don’t.

PSA out of the way, it’s natural to want to be wanted. Maslow’s Hierarchy places it just above physical safety, but I’d argue that it could easily be compared to baser drives. According to many psychological and anthropological studies, much of humanity’s continued survival and environmental dominance is largely attributed to our ability to form groups, cooperate with one another, and maintain complex interpersonal networks. Social support, intimacy, and a sense of belonging are linked to emotional and physical benefits, such as more optimistic health perceptions, higher subjective well-being, increased creativity and innovation, and greater self-efficacy (DeWall & Bushman, 2011; Harandi et al., 2017; Wang & Sha, 2018). Therefore, it’s perfectly understandable that rejection of any sort would be construed as a threat.

But if someone is obsessed with you, then you have no reason to worry about that, right? No more nights spent agonizing over how they feel about you, asking yourself whether your last text made you sound too desperate, or if you’re boring them because you spent the past hour info-dumping about Stardew Valley farm layouts. With a yandere, there will never be any doubt that they care about you. Sure, they might go about it in weird, manipulative, and insidious ways that violate your physical and mental autonomy, but you can’t deny their loyalty. They do love you in their own bizarre way. You are the sun around which they orbit. When you’re in the room, no one else exists. Every single messy flaw is just another bullet point on the mile-long list of why they adore you.

In essence, yanderes are not only attentive, but their love can be virtually unconditional. A yandere might know everything about you, and still revere you. It’s unhealthy as hell and you might genuinely question their taste, but it can be tempting to pretend that all of you, right down to the ugliest parts of yourself – the traits and choices that you would never share with another living soul even at gunpoint – are worthy of understanding, if not open praise and affection.

Attractiveness, or Okay but Have You Considered That They’re Hot Though?

I mean what am I supposed to say here? They’re hot, what do you want from me?

No, but in all seriousness, fictional media paints an idealized version of the world, and most yanderes are hot because they have the freedom of existing purely behind that screen; artfully arranged and edited to forever appear compelling to anyone who happens to enjoy their particular style. And there are a lot of styles to choose from. Whether you want them pretty faced and disarmingly cute, or scarred up and big enough to pin you like a butterfly, yanderes come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes that are meant to pique your interest and draw you in like a naïve little fish being lured towards the mouth of an angler fish, unwilling to believe that anything bad might happen to us when the bait is this pretty.

This is often referred to as the Halo Effect, a form of cognitive bias referring to the tendency for people to assume that a single obvious positive trait must be associated with other positive traits. The go-to characteristic is typically physical attractiveness, but a nice voice, good humour, and cooking skills are also factors which serve to influence our perceptions.

So, conventional physical attractiveness is one thing, but that’s only skin deep. What about beyond that? After all, the yandere still has to talk to you before they enact their master plan of tying you up in their basement until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in.

When I showed my friend a picture of John Doe from the game John Doe, she told me that he looked like a creepy slob, and she’s far from the only person who’s ever thought so. Look at them. I feel like if I tried to comb that hair it would simply eat me, and some of the CGs really put the scopophobia in Scopophobia Studios. I love Doe, but he is not hot, and he doesn’t behave in a normally appealing way either. If the player chooses not to take a bath, Doe will immediately comment that you “smell good” before following you home, breaking into your house, and leaving a bloody organ on the floor for the player to trip over. Many yanderes can at least fake a veneer of normalcy, but from the get-go Doe doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s anything less than an otherworldly creature stuffed into a vaguely person-shaped meatsuit. In an effort to find out why so many people had latched on to Doe – including me – I shopped around social media and YouTube for answers, and what I found was a widely unanimous sentiment.

While some were drawn to his fun design and goofy personality, most simply thought that he wasn’t inherently malevolent, just very confused. In addition to being a supernatural being with a completely alien axis of morality, Doe’s meta-awareness and unbridled attempts at winning the player’s affection lends him quite a bit of support from the audience, especially if you yourself also happen to struggle with social cues and relate to his pure earnestness. In Ending 7 of the extended version, the player character has the option to tell Doe – who has altered himself to pass as more ‘normal’ – that they prefer who he truly is, at which point he grows visibly flustered and sports an adorable pair of literal heart-shaped pupils.

Whether they’re charismatic, seductive, cute, sweet, funny, nurturing, or generous, the best yanderes have engaging personalities. Even while they’re committing truly heinous crimes against God, man, and your guts, you still kinda want to hang out with them, and you want them to acknowledge you as being just as interesting. And this is all fine in fiction because you’re the one in charge, and if you ever get bored or uncomfortable or busy with something else, then you can simply close the tab or window with zero consequences, which brings us to the final and most important reason.

Power Dynamics and Consent in Fantasy (I Couldn’t Think of a Joke Here Guys, This Is Kinda Serious)

Once again, I feel that I must preface this section just for the sake of my own peace of mind: sexual coercion and assault are vile and disgusting crimes that should never be emulated or tolerated in the real world. We are speaking purely of fictional media, specifically adult-oriented media in this case, so please be mindful.

In 2009, Bivoni and Critelli conducted a study on 355 undergraduate women with the goal of assessing the reasons behind fantasies of non-consent. At the time, there were two leading explanations of this phenomenon. One stated that women with high libidos but repressed views of sex used these imaginary scenarios to alleviate the guilt they had grown to associate with sex. Because the simulation was a purely mental exercise and they themselves were cast as helpless victims in the scenario, they were able to remain blameless while still finding sexual gratification. The second stated that these fantasies were an expression of liberation by women who were adventurous and comfortable enough with their own sexuality to engage with taboo ideas that they weren’t at all interested in performing in real life. Which do you think was more common?

If you guessed the second option, you’d be right. The study found that of the 220 women who had experienced such fantasies, 45% found theirs erotic, 46% were mixed, and only 9% reported pure aversion. One justification for this outcome relies on psycho-biological theories, for example masochistic preferences or the unintended activation of the sympathetic nervous system and subsequent mis-attribution of arousal. Other reasons have to do with higher order thinking and are tied to the power dynamics within such fantasies. On the surface is the appeal of being so desirable to someone that they simply cannot control themselves, but then there is a deeper impulse, which the researchers referred to as Adversary Transformation. To quote the article: “[fantasies] involve a struggle between an assailant and a potential victim in which it is relevant to consider who is the winner and who is the loser. At one level, it is a struggle over sex, but the woman's non-consent may be feigned or token. At another level, the woman may be seeking a victory that is not about whether sex occurs, but about what happens emotionally between the protagonists.”

Basically, the imaginary perpetrator may have ‘won’, but the self-character need not have ‘lost’.

Media provides an extra layer to the illusion, one that you as the viewer have absolute control over. If you are choosing to engage with a piece of media that explicitly labels itself as including R18+ yandere content, then you clearly have some expectations, and that background awareness goes a long way in reducing long-term discomfort and allowing audiences to make informed decisions. If you don’t like the plot, you can simply turn it off it with the click of a button, and when the screen goes dark it’s not like the yandere is going to punish you for saying no. Strade isn’t going to break into your house with a drill, there are no homicidal clown ghosts hiding in your TV, and no suspicious pink-haired hackers watching your webcam. They aren’t real, and the consequences aren’t real either. You have all the power here.

Conclusion

In summary, Yanderes are appealing for a variety of reasons. Whether you want to save them, think they’re attractive, wish to indulge in a dream of being utterly coveted, or simply enjoy a bit of spice in your me-time, it’s obvious why the trope has persisted for so long and will likely continue to do so. If you enjoy yanderes but are worried that having a taste for the less wholesome side of things might imply something about who you are as a person, don’t be. The notion that fantasies and media preferences directly reflect subconscious desires is not only painfully out of date debunked nonsense but also indicative of restrictive ideologies wherein bad thoughts = sin. This isn’t 1984. You haven’t committed a thought-crime by having a weird kink. You aren't going to superhell for fantasizing. The human mind is hardly ever so mathematically rational, and the point of fiction is to allow us to safely engage with and explore various ideas, provided the everyone involved is mentally, chronologically, and emotionally mature enough to do so.

Thank you all for listening to me. If you learned something or were just a little bit entertained. If you're curious about knowing more, I've listed my sources below

REFERENCES

Bivona, J. M., & Critelli, J. W. (2009). The Nature of Women’s Rape Fantasies: An analysis of prevalence, frequency, and contents. Journal of Sex Research, 46(1), 33–45. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490802624406

Critelli, J. W., & Bivona, J. M. (2008). Women’s Erotic Rape Fantasies: An Evaluation of Theory and research. Journal of Sex Research, 45(1), 57–70. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490701808191

DeWall, C. N., & Bushman, B. J. (2011). Social acceptance and rejection. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(4), 256–260. https://doi.org/10.1177/0963721411417545

Flynn, F. J., Reagans, R., Amanatullah, E. T., & Ames, D. R. (2006). Helping one’s way to the top: Self-monitors achieve status by helping others and knowing who helps whom. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91(6), 1123–1137. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.91.6.1123

Harandi, T. F., Taghinasab, M. M., & Nayeri, T. D. (2017). The correlation of social support with mental health: A meta-analysis. Electronic Physician, 9(9), 5212–5222. https://doi.org/10.19082/5212

Hazen, H. (1983). Endless rapture: rape, romance, and the female imagination. https://openlibrary.org/books/OL3161300M/Endless_rapture

Kroon, R. W. (2010). A/V A to z: An Encyclopedic Dictionary of Media, Entertainment and Other Audiovisual Terms. McFarland.

Matuszak, M. (2017). Hybristophilia White Paper. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55dfd21ee4b0718764fb34cc/t/5cb7cabee5e5f00ab13be58b/1555548863275/Hybristophilia+White+Paper.pdf

Oarga, C., Stavrova, O., & Fetchenhauer, D. (2015). When and why is helping others good for well-being? The role of belief in reciprocity and conformity to society’s expectations. European Journal of Social Psychology, 45(2), 242–254. https://doi.org/10.1002/ejsp.2092

Parker, R. (2014). Serial killer groupies. RJ PARKER PUBLISHING, INC.

Wang, T., & Sha, H. (2018). The influence of social rejection on cognitive control. Psychology, 09(7), 1707–1719. https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2018.97101

#reference list is completed!#yandere #sunny day jack #my dear hatchet man #mdhm #stnaf #ddlc #john doe #boyfriend to death #tpof #degrees of lewdity #your boyfriend #14dwy #br<3ken colors #camp willowpeak #br0ken colors #obey me #binary star hero #favor vn

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chososcamgirl · 7 months ago

Text

BURY A FRIEND INTRODUCTIONS: slash or smash!

masterlist

!REMEMBER TO VOTE YOU YOU WANT THE KILLER TO BE VIA MY ASK BOX AND WHO YOU WANT TO BE KILLED FIRST!

extras !

• yn is a youtuber with 76k subscribers. she mainly vlogs what she does in a day but she’s becoming popular due to her editing and insane takes in her videos

• think emergency intercom + out of character podcast

• characters are in their 2nd year of college but they all met in high school and are still friends to this day

• they all go to the same college surprisingly like they didn’t even plan it LMFAO

• panda definitely takes the title of yn’s bestfriend because ino is more…. than just a friend (you get what i’m putting down?) (yes i’m pushing the inotober agenda.)

• yuji was in the occult club so of course i’m sticking with him loving all things horror🙂‍↕️

• todo def owns a discord server so that explains why he’s like that

• no yuji and megumi aren’t together in this one… they’re just bestfriends looks sideways (itafushi <333)

• pushing the toge bisexual agenda again BECAUSE ITS JUST SO RIGHT

a/n: sorry it took SO long to post but bury a friend has officially started. trying to post every day (excluding weekends) until the end of october/until it finishes :)

taglist: @dawnisatotalqueen @reezerdotcom @laughingfcx @aozui @nectardaddy @44ina @essjujutsu @stillnotherapy @n1vi @renardiererin @pancakeszs @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @iluv-ace @brideads @kiss-my-asscheeks @pastriepuppy @csbnova

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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moonlitstoriess · 4 months ago

Text

Binding Lies- Eris Vanserra x fem! reader (mini-series) Part 4

Summary: When Y/N, Azriel's secret half-sister who lives far away, and Eris Vanserra form a strategic contractual marriage to further their own agendas, what begins as a carefully crafted arrangement soon becomes more complicated. As they pretend to be a perfect couple, the lines between duty and desire blur, and neither is prepared for the consequences.

See masterlist

Previous part

Next part

Warnings: a brief intense scene, nothing explicit or smutty.

Y/N stood at the edge of the ship, watching the rolling waves below, the salty air sweeping across her face as the sails creaked in the breeze. The afternoon glow of the sun sent a sense of calm over her, a perfect scene to mark the beginning of this journey. Yet despite the beauty around her, her thoughts were already far away—reeling from everything she’d left behind.

She had never imagined that she’d be leaving Montesere, much less as a princess of all things. A fake one, yes, but still, the title clung to her now. And soon, she’d be stepping into the Autumn Court—Eris' court—and the sheer thought of it made her stomach twist. The uncertainty of everything, the fear of stepping into an entirely new world, gnawed at her insides.

It was then that Samira found her.

"You’re going to freeze out here," Samira called softly, her voice a gentle contrast to the bracing wind. She stepped closer to Y/N, holding out a blanket she had snatched from one of the deck chairs. "Come inside. You’ll catch a chill."

Y/N turned to face her, trying to force a smile but failing miserably. The worry was written all over her face, and Samira, always observant, didn't miss it.

"You know, I’m starting to think you like the cold," Samira teased, draping the blanket over Y/N’s shoulders.

"Maybe," Y/N said with a weak laugh, looking back out at the horizon. "Or maybe I’m just trying to ignore the fact that I’m about to be someone I’m not."

Samira’s expression softened, her teasing tone gone. She placed a hand gently on Y/N’s arm. "You’ll be fine. You have everything you need, including me. And Eris, of course."

Y/N nodded, appreciating the sentiment, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. But there was no turning back now, was there?

“Come on,” Samira said, pulling her gently away from the railing. “Let’s get you settled.”

A few minutes later, they were below deck, the steady rocking of the ship more noticeable here as they walked down the narrow corridors. Samira led her to a small, cozy room tucked in the corner, its walls lined with shelves of books and scattered trinkets. There was something surprisingly homely about it.

Samira gestured to the small armchair by the window. "This is my room," she said, sitting down across from Y/N.

Y/N sat, crossing her arms. "Wow, seems like you have settled in quite well. I didn’t know you were such a bookworm."

Samira grinned. "You’d be surprised. I had to learn a lot growing up. I mean, not just Montesere’s ways, but the ways of the outer world, too.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "The outer world?"

"Yes. The courts, the politics, the history, the fashion." Samira leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "And you, my dear, are going to need to learn all of it, starting with the Autumn Court."

Y/N froze. "Wait, what? The Autumn Court?" She shot Samira a look of disbelief. "Are you telling me you know everything about the Autumn Court?"

"Well, not everything." Samira smirked. "But I know enough."

Y/N was still recovering from the shock. "How the hell do you know so much about Autumn?"

Samira raised an eyebrow, her expression playful. "Oh, darling, I’m not just some girl from Montesere. I spent my childhood growing up alongside Princess Leone in the royal court. I’ve had lessons on everything—from history to politics to the little things like fashion and mannerisms. And since you’re about to step into their world, I thought it was time you got a little... introduction."

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. "You want to teach me about the Autumn Court?" she said, her voice a mix of amusement and dread. "Isn't that Eris' job? Though, I don't know why I am asking that, he will most definitely laugh in my face if I asked him to teach me something."

"Yes, Eris could probably explain it better," Samira said, shrugging. "But he’s busy, and besides, I know enough to help you get started. Plus," she grinned, "I don’t think he’d be half as entertaining as me."

Y/N sighed. "I’m starting to regret this already."

The next few hours were a blur of history lessons, fashion critiques, and endless discussions about politics that Y/N couldn’t quite keep up with. Samira went into detail about how the Autumn Court presented themselves—how they were proud, meticulous, and formal in every way. How every word, every glance, every gesture carried weight. Y/N tried to take it all in, but her brain was on overload.

“And remember,” Samira said, tapping a finger against her chin as she rifled through a stack of books, “Autumn doesn’t just dress to impress—they dress to intimidate. Think dark, rich colors—burgundy, deep green, dark gold—and always, always, carry yourself with confidence. No slouching, no hesitation."

Y/N had no idea how she was going to pull this off, but she nodded along, too tired to argue. Samira seemed relentless, though. She had them standing up, practicing the perfect posture—shoulders back, chin up, eyes forward—until Y/N was sure her back would break.

"Alright, now your hands," Samira said, lifting Y/N’s arm as if she were a doll. "They should always be held with purpose—either clasped in front of you, at your sides, or in your lap. None of this flailing nonsense."

"Flailing nonsense?" Y/N repeated, unable to suppress a giggle.

Samira shot her a playful look. "Yes, flailing nonsense. You can’t have any of that. You’re a princess, not a dancing windmill."

Y/N laughed. "I’m sure the Autumn Court will love me."

Samira didn’t stop there. They spent hours going over every little detail—how to speak to the other courtiers, how to greet them, how to respond to their questions, even how to walk properly in a gown. By the end, Y/N felt like she was going to drop from exhaustion, but Samira’s energy seemed endless.

"Alright," Samira said with a satisfied grin, leaning back in her chair. "Enough about Autumn Court for now. We’ve covered all the basics. Time to move on to the rest of Prythian."

Y/N’s face fell. "Wait, what?"

"Oh yes," Samira said with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "If you’re going to fool anyone into believing you’re a true princess, you’ve got to know the history, the politics, and the fashion of every court. Not just Autumn."

Y/N’s eyes widened. "Are you kidding me?"

"Not at all," Samira said, clearly enjoying herself. "You have to be prepared, Y/N. This is no joke. You’ll need to know the ins and outs of every court—from the Night Court to the Spring Court to the Winter Court. The more you know, the better."

"I’m done for today," Y/N said, standing up abruptly. "I’m going to go for a walk or something."

Samira chuckled. "Oh, you’re not escaping me that easily, princess."

Y/N grinned mischievously and dashed for the door.

"You’re not getting away that easily!" Samira shouted after her, but Y/N was already halfway down the hall, laughing as she ran.

Samira’s laughter echoed in the distance as Y/N sprinted up the stairs, not caring who saw her in her mad dash. She needed to clear her head—if she had to hear one more lesson on Autumn Court, she might lose it.

"Catch me tomorrow, Samira!" Y/N called over her shoulder, already feeling the weight of the world lifted for just a moment.

"Don’t think I won’t!" Samira’s voice floated behind her, full of mirth.

Y/N smiled, her heart lighter than it had been all day. At least she had someone to help her through this ridiculous journey.

She had barely made it halfway up the stairs before a firm grip on her arm yanked her back into the shadows. Her breath hitched, and before she could react, her body was pressed against the cool stone of the corridor wall. The scent of salt and musk filled her nose, and she tensed, ready to strike whoever had dared to sneak up on her.

But then she heard that voice—the voice she would recognize anywhere.

"Shh, quiet," Eris murmured, his face inches from hers. His hand still held her arm, steadying her, but his presence felt like a thousand pounds pressing against her chest. "Others are watching."

Y/N blinked, eyes narrowing as she processed his words. "What the hell are you doing, Eris?" she hissed, attempting to free herself from his grip, though it was futile. His hold was firm but not painful.

"Act like a loving wife and follow me," he ordered in that cool, commanding tone that sent a shiver up her spine. There was something almost casual about it. Like he expected her to obey without question.

Her breath hitched in frustration. "I’m not your wife, you know. Not for real. You can’t order me around like—"

"Shh," he repeated, his voice quieter now, a strange intensity behind it as his gaze flicked to the doorway of a nearby room. He motioned for her to follow him, and despite her irritation, she found herself falling in line, if only for the sake of avoiding suspicion.

They walked in silence down the dimly lit hallway, their footsteps echoing softly as they passed by several crew members, none of whom paid them any mind. Still, the weight of the situation hung between them—her feigned compliance and his silent command. She caught a glimpse of the curious glances of a few passing sailors, but she kept her expression neutral.

Once they reached the door to their shared quarters, Eris pushed it open, guiding her inside with a flick of his hand. As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Y/N stepped away from him, immediately rolling her eyes.

She sighed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, looks like I really have to sleep with you for quite a while now, huh?"

Eris leaned against the door with a quiet chuckle. "Yep. Sorry, princess. We both have to endure each other until our time is up." His eyes met hers for a brief moment, a strange amusement flickering there before he smirked, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

Y/N couldn’t help but snort. "I’m so looking forward to this," she muttered under her breath. "Really."

Eris straightened up, his playful expression falling away, replaced with something closer to genuine curiosity. "Where were you for so long, anyway?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the suddenness of his question. She opened her mouth to respond but faltered as his expectant gaze pinned her in place. There was something oddly… insistent about the way he asked, as if he truly cared to know. It was such a stark contrast to the way he usually acted toward her.

"What? Why do you care?" she shot back, her defenses immediately going up. She was a little taken aback by his interest.

"Don't get all defensive on me," Eris said dryly, rolling his eyes. "I just asked."

Y/N stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what he was getting at. Then, she sighed and reluctantly said, "I was with Samira. We were—"

"Learning about my court, I know," Eris interrupted, his tone dry. "I guessed as much."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Oh, so you’re spying on me now?"

Eris smirked, though his gaze was oddly calculating. "Not spying. Just paying attention." He paused before his smirk softened into something almost unreadable. "Did you even eat?"

Y/N blinked at the sudden change in his demeanor. "What?"

"I had food sent to Samira’s room for you two," Eris said, his eyes momentarily flicking away, almost as if he were avoiding her gaze.

Y/N snorted. "Why would you care?"

"I don't," he said quickly, too quickly. "I just thought you might have gotten distracted in all your learning. I figured you could use some food." He threw her a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. "Did you eat?"

"Yes, we ate," Y/N replied, giving him an incredulous look. "We were busy learning about your court, if you must know."

"Mm, I figured as much," Eris said with a small nod, rubbing his thumb against his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "And what did you learn?"

Y/N folded her arms tightly across her chest. "Well, Samira was making me memorize all kinds of nonsense about your court. You know, the usual—how to act, how to speak, the history, the fashion, the whole damn thing."

Eris leaned back slightly, letting out a low whistle. "Sounds exhausting."

"Yeah, you could say that." Y/N gave a small, sarcastic laugh. "I’m supposed to be your loving wife, remember? Apparently, it’s not enough that I’m faking it. I have to learn it too. History and everything."

Eris chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, if you want to fit in, you have to know what you’re doing. It’s not like they’re going to just take you in as you are."

"Not my fault your court is full of stuck-up snobs," Y/N muttered, rolling her eyes.

Eris' grin turned playful again. "That’s the spirit," he said, pushing off from the door and walking toward the window. He stood there for a moment, looking out over the sea before turning back to her. "I can teach you a few more things before we get there, if you’d like."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Like what? How to pretend to be a princess even better?"

"Precisely," he said with a teasing glint in his eye. "It’ll make the whole thing easier, I promise. You’d be surprised what knowing the right words, the right mannerisms, and the right… presence can do."

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Great. More lessons."

Eris smirked, taking a step closer to her. "Trust me, princess. You’re going to need them."

Y/N wasn’t sure why, but something about the way he said that made her uneasy. She met his gaze for a moment, her heartbeat quickening in her chest, though she wasn’t sure why. She quickly pushed the feeling away.

"Alright, enough of that," she said, trying to shake off the tension. "I’m tired. I think I’ve learned enough for one day."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Really? You’re not going to practice your posture one more time?"

She shot him a playful glare. "Not unless you want me to kill you in your sleep."

Eris chuckled, but the smile faded from his lips as he turned to the door. "Very well. I’ve got a meeting on deck with the officials. It’s late, and I should get going." He gave her a pointed look. "You should get changed."

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, their eyes met again, and for just a fleeting moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The tension between them, the shared space—everything felt… different.

Eris was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat. "I’ll be back shortly."

She nodded, still staring at him for just a beat longer than necessary. And then, without another word, he walked out, leaving her alone in the room.

Y/N stood there for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling in her chest. She let out a long breath and then, finally, moved to get ready for bed. She needed to rest, because tomorrow, she was going to face a new day—and who knew what Eris would throw at her next.

The rain had started softly, the kind that whispered rather than roared, and Y/N had been watching it from her cabin window, the rhythm of the droplets steadying her restless heart. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, gazing out at the endless sea. It was still a marvel to her, the sheer vastness of it—how it stretched so far it seemed to blend into the sky at the edges. She’d never seen anything like it in Montesere.

Her thoughts wandered, a mixture of excitement and trepidation for the unknown that lay ahead. But her musings were cut short by a sudden, sharp clang from somewhere above, startling her so hard she nearly toppled backward.

The sound echoed through the corridor, followed by a low, ominous rumble that sent her pulse racing. Her gaze snapped to the window, where a flicker of orange light caught her eye. She froze. For a moment, she thought she was imagining it. But then the scent of smoke seeped into the room, faint but unmistakable.

Fire.

Panic shot through her like lightning. She flung open her cabin door, her feet bare against the cold wood as she bolted down the narrow hallway. The sound of her heartbeat roared in her ears, mingling with the distant crackle of flames and the thundering rain above.

The moment she pushed open the hatch, the storm greeted her with full force. The rain was no longer soft or whispering; it was a torrential downpour, soaking her to the bone within seconds. The wind howled, tearing at her hair and whipping the thin fabric of her nightgown against her skin.

She stumbled onto the deck, blinking through the sheets of rain. Her vision blurred as she searched for the source of the fire, the flickering light she’d seen from her cabin window. And there it was—a lantern, dangling precariously from the ship’s railing, its flame stubbornly clinging to life despite the storm.

Her heart lurched as the wind picked up, causing the lantern to sway violently. She watched, frozen, as it snapped free from its chain and plummeted to the deck. The glass shattered, scattering embers onto a coiled rope that had been left nearby.

The flames caught instantly, crawling up the fibers of the rope like serpents. Smoke billowed into the air, black and acrid, and Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

She darted forward, her feet sliding on the slick wood as she reached for the nearest bucket. It was half-full of rainwater, heavy as she hoisted it into her arms. The flames were growing, licking hungrily at the surrounding ropes. Her breaths came in short gasps as she hurled the water onto the fire, the hiss of steam rising in response.

The fire sputtered but didn’t die entirely. She grabbed another bucket, her arms shaking as she poured more water over the flames. This time, the fire went out, leaving behind a smoldering mess of charred rope and embers.

She collapsed to her knees, her chest heaving as she coughed against the smoke. The rain was relentless, washing away the soot and ash as it soaked her hair and skin.

“Gods,” she muttered, dragging a trembling hand down her face. “That could’ve been worse.”

The adrenaline began to fade, leaving her cold and exhausted. The rain continued to pour, and she realized she was shivering, the chill sinking deep into her bones. She needed to get back inside, back to the warmth of her cabin.

But her disorientation and the chaos of the storm made her clumsy. She stumbled as she turned, her wet feet slipping against the slick deck. When she finally found the door that led below, she didn’t realize until it was too late that she had taken a wrong turn.

She pushed open the door, expecting to find the familiar corridor that led to her cabin. Instead, she was met with warmth, light, and a room full of startled gazes.

It took her a moment to process where she was. The air was heavy with the scent of parchment, ink, and candle smoke. A long table dominated the room, its polished surface strewn with maps and papers. Around it sat a group of men, their expressions ranging from surprise to amusement to...lust.

At the head of the table sat Eris.

The golden glow of the lanterns cast shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the faint sneer that tugged at his lips. His auburn hair was slightly ruffled, and his piercing amber eyes were fixed on her.

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat.

The room fell silent, the quiet hum of conversation replaced by the soft patter of rain against the windows. She became painfully aware of her appearance—her black nightgown plastered to her body, leaving little to the imagination. Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, droplets of water running down her skin.

Eris’s gaze didn’t waver. His eyes roamed over her, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail. She felt exposed, as though he could see straight through her, past her soaked clothes and into the very core of her being.

Her skin prickled under the intensity of his stare. Her fingers tightened around the doorframe, her knees threatening to give out.

“I…” Her voice came out as a whisper, barely audible over the storm outside. “I’m so sorry.”

Still, he didn’t speak. His jaw tightened, and something dark flickered in his eyes—anger, perhaps, or something else she couldn’t name. The weight of his gaze was suffocating, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice trembling as she backed out of the room. She didn’t wait for a response, didn’t dare to look at anyone else. Turning on her heel, she fled down the hallway, her bare feet slipping against the wooden floor.

By the time she reached her cabin, her face was burning with shame. She slammed the door shut, pressing her back against it as she tried to catch her breath.

“What is wrong with you?” she muttered to herself, dragging her hands down her face. “Could you be any more of an idiot?”

Her mind replayed the scene in excruciating detail—the startled faces of the officials, the way their eyes lingered on her, and Eris’s unrelenting stare. She groaned, sinking onto the edge of her bed and burying her face in her hands.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside her cabin, the only storm that mattered was the one raging in her chest.

The storm outside howled, but the meeting within the lavishly furnished room of the Autumn Court’s ship was far from peaceful. Eris sat at the head of the table, the weight of the discussions hanging heavily in the air. The council members around him—each a self-important, puffed-up figure in their own right—argued endlessly about the next steps of the alliance with Montesere. It was as if each male present thought their own opinion carried the weight of the gods themselves.

Lord Ryver, the most outspoken of them all, leaned forward, a smug smile plastered across his face as he spoke. “The alliance is set, Prince Eris. We’ve secured the resources of Montesere, but now we must focus on their integration. Their military is strong, yes, but their royal customs? That’s where we need our focus. If we want to solidify this partnership, we need to ensure they understand the respect owed to us.”

Eris maintained his composure, though his patience was starting to fray. He had heard enough of this. His entire life had been spent managing these petty conversations, these pointless power struggles among men who thought they understood how the world worked but were blind to its true complexities.

“Yes, Lord Ryver,” Eris said coolly, “and I’m certain they’ll be very receptive to such lessons.”

A few chuckles escaped the mouths of the other men, a sound that made his teeth grit. He suppressed the urge to remind them that the real question wasn’t whether they would be receptive but whether they would be able to offer the value they claimed.

Lord Thorne, a bit more pragmatic but equally full of himself, shifted his weight in his chair. “We must discuss the future implications of the alliance. Montesere’s king has been known to play a careful game, and his ambitions may be far greater than our own. We cannot allow him to overstep.”

Another round of murmurs filled the room, most agreeing, but Lord Harkin, a close ally to Ryver, scoffed. “We’ve already secured our end. If anything, it’s his turn to prove himself. He owes us, and the best way to ensure loyalty is to give him no room to maneuver. I say we remind him of that. His wealth and military will be ours, but he needs to understand the price.”

A heated discussion broke out, and Eris fought the urge to stand and leave. If these rotten bastards didn’t realize they were discussing matters of state as if it were a children’s game, he would have no choice but to make them understand the real stakes. But he needed to let them bicker for a bit longer. The balance of power was delicate, and this alliance wasn’t the only thing he had to navigate.

Just as Lord Ryver raised his voice again, speaking of their “unwavering superiority,” a shift in the air caught Eris’s attention. His gaze darted to the door, but no one else seemed to notice the subtle change in the atmosphere. And then, the door swung open, and everything stopped.

Y/N walked into the room.

For a moment, it was as if the world had halted. Eris’s breath caught in his throat, his entire body tensing. The sight of her, drenched from the rain, her black nightgown clinging to her curves in a way that left nothing to the imagination, was enough to freeze the blood of any man in the room.

Her wet hair, glistening, framed her face and spilled down her back. She looked like a goddess, but in the most dangerous way. Eris’s chest constricted at the sight of her, and for a moment, all he could do was stare. His thoughts became muddled, his usual control slipping dangerously as he looked at her.

He quickly tried to regain composure, but his body betrayed him. His pants tightened as the sight of her, so beautiful, so untouchable, filled his senses. Her curves, her body, glistening with rain, held him captive. He forced his eyes to stay on hers, locking in a fierce stare, trying to regain some semblance of control.

But then, something worse happened. He noticed the looks of the other males in the room—the other seven.

Lord Ryver, Lord Harkin, and even Lord Thorne were staring at her, their eyes sliding over her body with dark, lecherous thoughts swirling in their minds. Eris could see it in their eyes, could almost hear the vile ideas they were thinking. It made his blood boil.

The anger coursed through him, hot and fierce, and he couldn’t contain it. How dare they look at her like that? She was his. His.

His jaw clenched, and he quickly scanned the room to see who else was watching. Lord Ryver, Harkin, and Thorne were the worst offenders—eyes glued to her wet form as if they couldn’t look away. The others, some more reserved, still let their gaze linger.

Eris’s mind was filled with rage. What was she doing here? Why was she wet? What could possibly have brought her into this room in such a state?

And then, as if on cue, she spoke.

A meek “Sorry” escaped her lips, her voice barely audible, and she turned to leave, her wet form still shimmering in the candlelight. The door clicked softly behind her, and for a long, pregnant moment, the room remained in absolute silence.

Eris remained frozen in place, staring at the space where she had been, his mind in a whirlwind. Every part of him wanted to chase after her, to demand an explanation. But he couldn’t lose control—not here, not with these males watching.

He waited, counting the seconds, until the silence became unbearable. Then, he spoke, his voice cutting through the air with the cold, hard edge of a blade.

“The next time any of you—” Eris’s voice was a sharp whisper that cut through the stunned silence, his gaze sweeping across the room, making each male shrink under his icy stare. “The next time any of you look at my wife like that, or stare at her for longer than three seconds, my face will be the last thing you see.”

His words were a deadly promise. His voice was venomous, each word dripping with a threat that made the room grow colder.

Lord Ryver shifted uncomfortably, his arrogance faltering as he tried to compose himself. Lord Thorne looked as if he might protest, but a single glance from Eris silenced him.

“You will respect her,” Eris continued, his voice dropping dangerously low. “If any of you so much as think of disrespecting her, I will make sure you regret it.”

His gaze landed on Lord Ryver once more, and a dangerous glint sparked in Eris’s eyes. “Understood?”

The males nodded, some looking paler than others, and all the bravado drained from them like water. They were afraid now.

Eris stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he leaned forward. “Good,” he said, his tone colder than the winter winds outside. “Now, back to business.”

And with that, he turned his attention back to the meeting, his mind still swirling with possessiveness and fury. He had to keep it together, maintain the façade. But his anger was still simmering, and he would deal with her later. The game wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

As the meeting resumed, the males remained uncomfortably silent, all too aware of the danger in Eris’s words. Eris sat back, his icy exterior returning, but inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—had irrevocably changed.

A knock on the door jolted her from her chaotic thoughts, her heart racing as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Y/N opened the door to find Samira standing there, her expression a mixture of worry and curiosity.

Samira’s gaze flickered over Y/N’s soaked figure, her hair dripping water onto the floor and her damp gown clinging to her skin. “I came as soon as I saw you,” Samira said, her voice soft yet urgent. “You were running back here, soaking wet, and I—”

“They all saw me,” Y/N interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Samira’s eyes. Her cheeks burned, and a knot tightened in her chest as the words left her mouth.

“What?” Samira asked, her brow furrowing.

Y/N sighed and rubbed her face with trembling hands, her frustration bubbling over. “They saw me! All of them! The lords, the courtiers… Gods, Samira, their eyes were on me, all of them! What did they think? How much of an embarrassment I must be! How much I’ve probably disappointed Montesere!”

Samira opened her mouth to respond, but Y/N wasn’t finished.

“They’ll think I’m unworthy,” Y/N continued, pacing the room as she ranted. “A failure! A mess! I already feel like I don’t belong, like I’m constantly falling short, and this—this just proves it! They’ll think I’m weak, incapable of holding my place at his side, and I—”

“Y/N.”

Samira’s gentle voice cut through her spiral, accompanied by the light pressure of her hand on Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N stopped pacing, her breaths coming fast and shallow as she finally turned to look at her friend.

Samira offered a small, reassuring smile, her dark eyes soft with understanding. “Breathe,” she said calmly. “Just breathe. It’s alright.”

Y/N shook her head, still frantic. “But it’s not! You didn’t see how they looked at me—”

“It’s their fault for looking,” Samira interrupted firmly. Her voice carried an edge of steel that Y/N hadn’t expected. “Not yours. You did nothing wrong.”

Y/N blinked at her, her chest still heaving with panic.

“You’re not a disappointment,” Samira continued, her hand gently squeezing Y/N’s shoulder. “You’re still learning, and that’s okay. You have a long way to go, but you’re stronger than you think. And anyone who judges you for something so insignificant isn’t worth your energy.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight. She wanted to believe Samira’s words, but the weight of her embarrassment pressed down on her like a boulder.

“Come on,” Samira said, taking Y/N’s hand and leading her toward the adjoining washroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Inside, Samira began filling the tub with warm water, the soothing sound of running water filling the small space. She moved with calm efficiency, gathering towels and fragrant oils as she spoke softly to Y/N.

“Everything will be fine,” Samira said as she worked. “You’ve been through worse than this, haven’t you? A little water and a few stares won’t break you.”

Y/N leaned against the counter, watching Samira set up the bath. Her hands fidgeted with the damp fabric of her gown as she muttered, “But what if—”

“No ‘buts,’” Samira interrupted gently, glancing over her shoulder with a knowing smile. “Trust me. You’re overthinking it. Now, get in here.” She gestured toward the steaming bath with a playful nudge.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before finally shedding her wet gown and stepping into the tub. The warm water enveloped her, soothing her tense muscles and washing away the lingering chill.

Samira stayed by her side, chatting about lighter topics—gossip from Montesere, amusing memories from her past, and plans for the future. Her presence was a balm to Y/N’s frayed nerves, and Y/N found herself relaxing more with each passing moment.

By the time Y/N stepped out of the bath, dried off, and changed into a fresh nightgown, the tension in her chest had eased significantly. She settled onto the bed as Samira sat beside her, a jar of cream in her hands.

“Here,” Samira said, dipping her fingers into the cream and applying it to Y/N’s face with careful precision. “This will help with the redness.”

Y/N closed her eyes, letting out a small sigh as Samira’s fingers moved gently across her skin. The soft, warm ambiance of the room was a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed her earlier.

The peace didn’t last long.

The door opened, and the warm, comforting atmosphere of the room was replaced by a cold, oppressive tension.

Eris stepped inside, his expression a mask of controlled fury. His golden eyes locked onto Y/N, and her breath caught in her throat.

Samira stiffened beside her, her hands freezing mid-motion. Slowly, she withdrew them, her gaze darting between Y/N and Eris.

“Out,” Eris said, his voice sharp and commanding.

Samira hesitated for only a moment before bowing her head. “Of course, prince.” She rose gracefully, offering Y/N a small, reassuring smile as she moved toward the door.

Once Samira had left and the door clicked shut behind her, Y/N was left alone with Eris. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

Her heart raced as she sat frozen on the bed, bracing herself for whatever was to come.

The room was so still it felt suffocating, the tension thicker than the storm clouds that had drenched her. Eris stood a few feet away, unmoving, yet his presence seemed to fill the entire space. His amber eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, unblinking as they bore into her. She could feel the heat of his fury, even though he hadn’t said a word yet.

“Look at me,” he finally commanded, his voice quiet but sharp as a blade.

Her head snapped up instantly, obeying the authority in his tone before she could even think. Her pulse raced as she met his gaze, the sheer intensity in his expression pinning her in place.

“What,” he began slowly, each word deliberate, “the hell were you doing outside in the rain?”

Y/N blinked at him, her mouth opening and closing as her thoughts scrambled. “I—I was—” she stammered, her voice cracking. Suddenly, her body moved on its own, standing up and placing the bed between them as though the piece of furniture could shield her from the storm brewing in him. “There was almost… fire. The lantern fell outside. No one was out there, no one saw it, but I did. I had to!”

His expression didn’t change, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. She felt her cheeks heat as she kept babbling, the words pouring out in a frantic rush.

“It could’ve turned into something worse, Eris! The rain was coming down so hard, and I—I thought it was better to handle it myself instead of bothering anyone else, and—”

“That’s not your job,” he cut in, his tone clipped, cold, and cutting through her rambling like a blade.

“What?” she asked, startled by the interruption.

“It’s not your job to be doing those things,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time. “There should’ve been workers outside to handle that.”

She gaped at him, disbelief mingling with her growing frustration. “Are you kidding me? It was pouring rain! Why would someone be outside?!” Her voice rose as she gestured wildly. “The lantern fell right in front of our window, I saw it, so I handled it! Why wouldn’t I—”

“You could’ve been hurt.”

The words were delivered in a tone slightly louder than before, sharp enough to silence her. Y/N froze, the air between them charged with something that made her stomach flip. His anger wasn’t just annoyance or frustration; it was something deeper.

Eris slowly began to move, his steps measured and deliberate as he circled the bed. His gaze never left hers, pinning her in place like a hawk closing in on its prey.

“What kind of a husband would I be,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “if I allowed you to keep hurting yourself?”

Her breath caught in her throat. His words were so unexpected, so layered with meaning, that she couldn’t immediately respond. Her eyes stayed locked on his, wide with shock as he stopped just a step away from her.

“You’re not my real husband,” she blurted out, her voice quieter than she intended but no less resolute.

Eris tilted his head slightly, his expression darkening. “And?”

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “You don’t need to pretend here,” she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt at defiance.

His jaw ticked, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. For a moment, she thought he might lash out, but instead, his voice came out calm, eerily calm.

“All of them saw you,” he said, his tone softer now but no less intense.

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as his words sank in. She shook her head, her thoughts racing. “I—I didn’t mean to… I swear, I didn’t know where I was going, I wasn’t thinking, I just—”

Eris’s gaze softened suddenly, his features relaxing in a way that caught her completely off guard. Before she could process it, he reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin.

“I know,” he murmured. “No need to apologize.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She stared at him, caught between disbelief and something she couldn’t quite name.

Y/N sighed, the weight of her embarrassment crashing down on her again. “They probably think so lowly of me now,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “They probably think I’m some kind of… whore.”

The word barely left her lips before Eris’s expression darkened once more, the possessiveness in his eyes blazing back to life.

“They won’t be thinking any of that,” he said firmly, his voice laced with steel. “I made sure of it.”

Her eyes widened, her shock evident as she searched his face for any sign of insincerity. “What… what do you mean?” she whispered.

“No one will ever look down on you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not while I’m here.”

He took another step closer, erasing the distance between them until they were almost touching. His golden eyes burned into hers, and Y/N found herself unable to look away.

“Just next time,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, “come get me.”

She nodded slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. The intensity of his presence was overwhelming, consuming, and she felt like she was teetering on the edge of something she didn’t fully understand.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the moment broke. Eris stepped back, the warmth of his body leaving her as he turned toward the washroom.

“I’m in dire need of a relaxing bath,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cool detachment. Without another glance, he disappeared into the washroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

Y/N stood there in stunned silence, the room suddenly feeling too empty and too loud all at once. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she tried to process what had just happened, her mind replaying his words over and over.

Come get him? What did that even mean?

Her legs finally gave out, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly as she stared at the closed washroom door. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t know what to think—or how to feel.

The room was enveloped in darkness, the faint scent of candle wax lingering in the air. Y/N lay on the bed, her back turned towards the other side, her body stiff with the weight of thoughts pressing down on her. She wasn’t asleep—far from it. Her mind was a tumultuous storm of guilt, confusion, and dread. Her fingers nervously twisted the edge of the blanket as she replayed the events of the day over and over. The meeting. The stares. Eris’ voice, his touch. The fire in his eyes when he’d spoken to her, the way his gaze had seared through her.

Her chest tightened. She didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely. What had he thought of her? What had those other males thought of her? Shame mingled with her self-recrimination. A Monteserian "princess", soaked to the bone, stumbling into a room full of Autumn courtiers like a fool. What a sight she must have been.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but it eluded her. The ship creaked softly with the rhythm of the waves, the distant hum of the sea the only sound filling the silence—until his voice pierced through the darkness.

"I know you're awake."

Her body jolted, startled by how effortlessly he seemed to read her. She didn’t turn to face him, but her breathing hitched. For a long moment, the room was silent again, save for the creaks of the ship and the muffled lapping of water against the hull.

Finally, she sighed. “I can’t sleep,” she admitted quietly.

Another pause, and then, "What’s on your mind?"

She hesitated, not expecting such a question from him. It was easier to avoid the truth, so she deflected, “Tell me about the courts.”

She waited, expecting him to scoff or brush her off, perhaps even mock her for being naive. Instead, to her surprise, he answered.

Eris began speaking in his calm, measured tone, his voice cutting through the stillness like a warm blade. “The Summer Court. Hotheaded fools, most of them. They think the sun and their endless coastline make them untouchable. Tarquin’s a decent enough High Lord—idealistic and stubborn. He always has a way of seeing the good in people, even when there’s none to be found.”

Y/N turned slightly, her gaze now fixed on the window, the faint sliver of moonlight creeping through. She listened as Eris continued, painting a picture of the courts in his sharp, unfiltered way.

“The Spring Court? Tamlin’s a shadow of what he once was. After everything, his court barely functions. I’d be shocked if they made it through another decade without collapsing entirely. He spends most of his time drinking himself into oblivion.”

“Day Court,” he continued, his tone a touch more neutral, “is ruled by Helion, a High Lord who’s almost as arrogant as I am, though at least he’s clever. Knowledge is power there. You’d like their libraries, I think.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the casual compliment buried in his words.

“Winter is quiet,” he added, his voice softening slightly. “Kallias keeps to himself. They’re not involved in much unless it’s forced on them.”

“And the Night Court?” she asked hesitantly, her pulse quickening.

Eris hesitated, and she felt the weight of his silence as if he were carefully choosing his words. “The Night Court… Rhysand and his Inner Circle think they’re saviors of the realm. They’ve built themselves quite the empire, but alliances with them are… complicated. I don’t care for friendships or grand ideals, so we keep things civil. Barely.”

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as she anticipated his next words.

He spoke of multiple fae in the Night court, different people who served Rhysand. He spoke of his closest court too, of some "weird witch" named Amren, of Mor--though Y/N could feel the clear frustration and discomfort he had when speaking of her--of Feyre, Nesta and Elain, of Cassian and lastly....Azriel.

“Azriel,” he said at last, his tone dipping slightly. “He’s one of Rhysand’s spymasters. A shadow-singer. We don’t exactly… get along.”

The air seemed to grow heavier, Y/N biting her lip as she tried to maintain her composure.

“Why not?” she asked carefully, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eris exhaled, and she could feel the shift in his demeanor even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Maybe another day,” he said curtly, signaling the end of that topic.

She nodded, not wanting to push him further. But before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. “Tell me more about Azriel.”

Eris was silent, and she immediately regretted asking. But then, his voice cut through the darkness again, tinged with a slight edge of curiosity. “Why are you so interested in him?”

“I…” she scrambled for a response. “I’ve just heard of him before, that’s all.”

He didn’t press further, and she exhaled in relief as he began to speak again, though his tone was sharper now, as if discussing Azriel put him on edge. “He’s a dangerous male. A shadow-singer is not someone to underestimate, no matter how composed they seem. He’s loyal to Rhysand, as are the rest of that blasted court. But loyalty doesn’t make him any less insufferable.”

Y/N’s chest ached with every word, her emotions threatening to spill over. Eris had no idea. He had no idea that Azriel—the male he so clearly despised—was her half-brother.

“Will we… will we ever meet these people?” she finally asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Eris sighed. “Of course. They’re High Lords, Y/N. There will be gatherings, events, and plenty of occasions where you’ll have to meet them.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I’m not used to it… to any of this.”

Eris didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, she thought he might brush her off. But then his voice came, steady and firm. “You’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t said softly, nor was it cruel. It was simply a statement, one that carried a strange sort of reassurance.

“Go to sleep,” he said after a moment, the finality in his voice clear.

She turned her head slightly, catching the faint silhouette of him lying on the bed, his back turned to her. The ship creaked again, the sound of the waves filling the room once more. Y/N stared out the window, her thoughts swirling as the moonlight cast its faint glow.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day overtook her, and she drifted off into a restless sleep, the weight of everything she had learned—and everything she still didn’t know—pressing down on her chest.

The sun was shining mercilessly today, as if it had no recollection of the thunderstorm that had raged through the night. The ship was steady underfoot, the waves lapping gently against the hull, their rhythm a far cry from last night’s chaos. Eris stood in his private office below deck, gazing out through a small circular window at the sparkling sea. The sunlight streamed in, making the wood-paneled walls appear golden, and yet his thoughts were far from serene.

The late-night conversation with Y/N refused to leave his mind. Her voice, low and hesitant, lingered like a melody. She had asked about the courts, about him. He hadn’t anticipated her curiosity about Azriel, nor the way it would unsettle him. She had hung on every word, her questions so deliberate, so measured, as though she were walking a fine line. Why? Why the sudden interest in a spymaster of the Night Court, someone she had likely never even met?

Eris scowled and turned away from the window, pacing the length of his cabin. Y/N was a puzzle he hadn’t yet figured out, and every moment he spent with her only added more pieces to the board. She had been quiet, introspective, but there was a storm brewing beneath that calm surface—he could feel it. And yet, despite his irritation at her elusiveness, he found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

A sharp knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. One of the ship’s servants stepped in, bowing slightly before addressing him. “The breakfast you wished for is ready, my prince. Princess Y/N has been informed and is already waiting for your arrival.”

Eris nodded curtly, dismissing the servant with a wave of his hand. He lingered for a moment, running a hand through his hair before straightening his tunic. He told himself the breakfast was a necessity, part of the elaborate charade they were playing. A loving couple, deeply bonded, unshaken by the whispers of court politics or the tension that surrounded them.

That’s all it was, he told himself firmly. But a nagging voice in the back of his mind suggested otherwise.

He ascended the stairs to the deck, the bright sunlight momentarily blinding him. As his eyes adjusted, he scanned the ship, his gaze drifting toward the nose where the table had been set. And there she was.

For a moment, he froze.

Y/N stood by the railing, the sunlight dancing on her skin. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, its fabric flowing lightly in the sea breeze. The color—a soft, muted blue—brought out the brightness of her eyes, and the cut was both practical and feminine, perfectly suited for a day on the ship. Her hair had been swept up into an intricate style, with loose strands framing her face, giving her a radiant, almost ethereal appearance.

She turned as she heard him approach, and when her gaze met his, she smiled. The kind of smile that could disarm anyone.

Before he could gather his thoughts, she crossed the deck and took his hand, her touch warm and soft. “Come on,” she said, her voice light, almost playful. She led him to the table, her fingers curling around his in a way that felt… deliberate. He quickly realized why. The servants were still arranging the last of the breakfast, their eyes flickering toward the two of them.

She’s putting on a show, he realized, schooling his expression into a neutral mask.

When they reached the table, Y/N released his hand, and the servants stepped back, bowing slightly before disappearing below deck.

“I’m glad you made us sit far away,” Y/N said as she settled into her seat. “I don’t like too many eyes on me.”

Eris raised a brow, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I needed to make sure we were having a proper couple’s breakfast,” he said, his tone laced with mild sarcasm, “not putting on a performance for the entire crew.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, and she shook her head, taking a sip of water.

They ate in relative quiet for a while, the hum of the ship and the cries of distant seabirds filling the space between them. Eventually, Eris broke the silence. “Your hairstyle is… different today.”

Y/N looked up, startled, and her fingers brushed against the intricate twists and braids. “You like it?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. “Samira put a lot of effort into it this morning.”

Eris found himself smiling faintly, though he quickly masked it. “She did a fine job,” he said smoothly.

Y/N’s smile widened, and they fell into easy conversation, a surprising shift from the tension of the night before. She was more animated today, more relaxed, and it was… disarming.

Then, out of nowhere, she mentioned a name.

Tideholt.

Eris froze mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “What did you say?”

“When Samira was helping me get ready,” Y/N repeated, her voice soft, “she mentioned a harbor city we’ll be passing today. I’d like to go there.”

Eris’ brows furrowed. “Why?”

Y/N sighed, setting her utensils down. “I haven’t seen the world beyond Montesere, Eris. Please. Just one stop. We’ll look around, that’s all.”

He frowned, considering her request. “That place is not exactly…” He trailed off, unsure how to explain the harbor’s reputation without alarming her. “It’s not the kind of place you wander around unguarded.”

“I’ll have you with me, won’t I?” she countered, her tone hopeful.

Eris stared at her, torn between irritation and something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fine. I’ll inform Captain Lorrick to dock there for a few hours. We could use some extra supplies anyway.”

Y/N’s face lit up, her smile so bright it momentarily stunned him. For a fleeting moment, she looked… unreal. Like something out of a dream.

He quickly recollected himself, clearing his throat as he looked away. “Now eat your food,” he said gruffly.

She grinned, but to his relief, didn’t press further. They ate the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need words. But Eris’ mind was far from quiet.

Y/N was a mystery. And the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to unravel it.

The excitement had been building within Y/N all morning as the ship neared Tideholt, the harbor city that Samira had mentioned earlier. She stood at the edge of the ship, her hands gripping the railing as she gazed out at the sprawling city on the horizon. The waters seemed to part around them as the ship drew closer, and she couldn’t help the flutter of anticipation that bubbled in her chest.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the sea and the city itself. Tideholt was nestled against the coastline, its buildings rising in layers up the cliffs, with narrow streets winding through them. The air was fresh with the salty scent of the sea and the promise of new experiences. The ships that dotted the harbor looked like giant, sturdy beasts, each one with its own tale to tell. The city’s shores were lined with docks, bustling with activity, as merchants, sailors, and traders shouted and bargained. She could feel the energy of the place already, and it sent a thrill through her veins.

Beside her, Samira stood, her eyes wide in wonder. “Gods,” she murmured, “how unusual it is to be so far from home.”

Y/N nodded, her voice quiet as she responded. “Yes. It feels… different. Like there’s more to see than just what’s in Montesere.”

Samira grinned, her eyes glinting with excitement. “I’ve heard rumors about places like this—about the lives lived outside our walls. I can’t wait to see what it’s really like.”

Y/N felt a lightness she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. A sense of possibility, a break from the heaviness of her past and the role she had been cast into. For just a moment, it felt like she could breathe again. A life beyond her duty and the expectations that followed her.

Their chatter was cut short as one of the sailors called out from the ship, his voice booming over the clamor of the busy harbor. “Docking in five minutes! Get ready!”

The announcement broke the spell of excitement, and Samira turned to Y/N, her grin widening. “Come on,” she said eagerly, “let’s see what this harbor city is like, shall we?”

Y/N laughed, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Yes. Let’s.”

The ship creaked and groaned as it made its way closer to the dock, the sailors expertly maneuvering it into place. The air was filled with the scent of brine, and Y/N could hear the distant calls of gulls above them, their wings sweeping in arcs over the water. As the ship slowed to a stop, she couldn’t contain the rush of emotion that surged within her. They had finally arrived.

Once the ship was docked, Y/N stepped forward, her eyes scanning the bustling port city before her. Her heart raced with anticipation. There was so much to take in—the clatter of wooden carts being loaded with goods, the colorful flags fluttering in the breeze, and the multitude of people going about their business in all manner of dress. She caught glimpses of people from all walks of life: sailors with weather-beaten faces, merchants shouting their wares, women in brightly colored dresses, and children darting through the crowd. The city had an energy, a pulse, that she had never experienced before.

She took a deep breath, letting the salty air fill her lungs, the cool breeze tugging at her hair. This place was nothing like Montesere, and it made her feel small and infinite at the same time.

Eris stepped beside her, his presence grounding her. He said nothing, but his eyes scanned the scene in front of them, his sharp gaze missing nothing.

When the gangplank was lowered, Y/N walked forward, her body filled with an unfamiliar sense of purpose. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this city, but it was more than she’d imagined. The smell of fresh fish, the sounds of the sea, the clinking of coins—it all felt so alive.

She could hear Samira’s light footsteps behind them, but she kept her eyes forward, her focus solely on the way the city stretched before her. There was a quiet thrill building in her chest, something that had been dormant for too long. A desire to explore, to see things for herself, beyond the rigid confines of her life back home.

As she stepped off the ship, she felt a tug at her hand. She turned to see Eris, his grip firm around her wrist. His hand tightened as he pulled her slightly closer, and Y/N found herself staring up at him in confusion.

“Eris?” she whispered, her voice laced with uncertainty.

He leaned in slightly, his expression stern. “Trust me when I say this place is too dangerous,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t argue with me about it here.” His tone held an authority that made her spine stiffen.

Y/N felt a flicker of surprise, followed by a flash of uncertainty. The city, with all its vibrancy, was suddenly not what she had thought it would be. Dangerous? The thought left her unsettled, but she didn’t argue. She simply nodded.

Eris didn’t look back at her, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he spoke to the rest of the court. “Do as I tell you,” he ordered. “Stay out of trouble. If you’re given orders, follow them. We need supplies, but don’t stray far.”

A few guards and courtiers dispersed at his command, but Samira stayed close, walking a few paces behind them with another guard. Y/N wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse, but it was clear that Eris was making sure no one got too close to her, not even Samira.

Eris’s hand remained around her wrist, and she found herself walking beside him, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cobbled streets as they moved deeper into the city. Her heart pounded, not with excitement, but with the awareness of how tightly he was controlling the situation.

The streets of Tideholt were narrow, winding between buildings that were both charming and worn by time. There were people everywhere—fishermen hauling nets, children running with baskets, vendors selling goods from carts. The sea was always nearby, its waves crashing against the dock, reminding Y/N of the vastness of the world she had yet to discover.

But as she looked at Eris beside her, his eyes sharp and focused, she understood that this place, for all its beauty, was not a safe haven. It was a place of danger, a place where anything could happen—and she wasn’t sure she was ready for whatever Eris was trying to shield her from.

As they walked, Eris kept his grip on her wrist, his fingers warm and firm around her skin. He was a shield, a protector in his own way. She had never been given this much attention, never had someone so clearly watch over her every move. It felt suffocating and comforting all at once.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Eris spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stay close,” he said. “Don’t wander off.”

Y/N nodded, her throat tight as she followed him deeper into the unknown.

The sounds of the city filled his ears—the bustling chatter of vendors, the calls of the street performers, and the rhythmic clatter of feet on cobblestones—but none of it could drown out the sound of her laughter, high and free. Her steps were light as she skipped from stall to stall, her fingers brushing the goods on display, her face alight with the thrill of the moment. It was as though the entire city was a playground, and she was the most carefree child in it.

She had started out quietly, but as they ventured further into Tideholt, she transformed. Eris watched, a faint smirk pulling at his lips, as Y/N darted from one vendor to another, her eyes gleaming with excitement. It was contagious, her energy making the mundane appear magical. She had no care for the grandeur of the world she was used to—this was real, this was spontaneous, and it was nothing like Montesere.

“I need this,” she said suddenly, holding up a set of beautifully beaded earrings from a street vendor. They shimmered in the sunlight, vibrant and full of life, the colors dancing as if they had a mind of their own. She turned to Samira, who was walking beside them, her expression equal parts amused and fond. “What do you think?”

Samira raised an eyebrow. “They’re… bold.”

Y/N laughed, spinning on her heel. “I think I’ll take them,” she said, and without waiting for another word, she handed over the coin and accepted the jewelry from the vendor, her fingers eagerly fastening the earrings in place.

Eris, walking a few paces behind, couldn’t help but watch her, his sharp eyes observing her every move. There was something about the way she moved—free and untethered—that stirred a strange feeling in him. The carefree joy on her face, the way she interacted with the people around her, the way she laughed—it was all so unfamiliar.

It wasn’t the female he had come to know—the one who carried the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders. It was a different side of her, one that hadn’t been given room to breathe in the shadow of responsibility. And for a moment, he found himself almost… envious.

But he quickly pushed that aside. He wasn’t here for distractions. They had a mission, a purpose. Still, the sound of her laugh—the brightness of it—tugged at something inside him. It unsettled him, the way it made him forget the sharp edges of his own reality.

“You’re going to bankrupt me at this rate,” he said, his voice dry but playful as Y/N ran ahead once more, her laughter ringing through the air. She had spotted a cart selling brightly colored silk scarves, and without hesitation, she was already making her way to it.

She grinned over her shoulder at him, her face a picture of mischief. “Not if you’re the one who keeps paying for them, my dear husband,” she teased, and then turned her attention back to the scarves.

Eris’ smirk deepened, his thoughts momentarily clouded by the way she referred to him. There was something about the way she said it, as if the pretense had become second nature to her, that made his chest tighten. It was all just a game to her, wasn’t it? Just another act in a long string of performances. But the realization stung a little more than he expected.

He pushed the feeling away, focusing instead on the bright colors and chaos around them.

After buying yet another trinket—a tiny carved wooden horse that Y/N insisted was “too cute to pass up”—she stopped to catch her breath. Samira was shaking her head, half-smiling, as she gave the small bags to the guard.

“Can’t you go five minutes without finding something to buy?” Samira teased.

Y/N grinned. “I’m enjoying myself. Don’t ruin it.”

And with that, she darted off again, this time pulling Eris along with her, much to his surprise. He could hardly keep up as she raced toward a juggler performing for a small crowd. She was utterly caught up in the spectacle, eyes wide with wonder as the juggler tossed knives into the air, spinning them in graceful arcs.

Eris couldn’t help but chuckle, his amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”

But then, as if the universe itself had decided to break the spell, everything shifted in an instant.

A scream rang out.

It cut through the laughter of the crowd, jolting everyone into a stunned silence. The juggler froze midair, the knives clattering to the ground. Y/N’s hand flew to her chest, her breath catching in shock as she looked around, trying to identify the source of the scream.

The air grew heavy, the vibrant atmosphere of the market turning to a tense stillness. Eris immediately moved closer, his body instinctively shielding Y/N as his eyes scanned the crowd. Something was wrong.

Another scream—this time more guttural, more panicked.

Then, chaos erupted.

A group of masked figures appeared from the shadows of the surrounding alleyways, their faces obscured by dark cloths. They moved with a terrifying precision, slicing through the crowd, their eyes scanning every face, every person in their path. Eris’ hand went to the hilt of his blade, his movements swift and deliberate as he pulled Y/N behind him. The guard beside Samira did the same.

“Stay close,” he growled, his voice low and urgent.

Y/N’s pulse raced as she clutched his arm, her eyes wide. “What’s happening?” she whispered, fear beginning to creep into her voice.

Before Eris could answer, the masked figures began to charge toward them. The air was filled with the sound of feet pounding against the cobblestones, and then one of them—a tall man with a scar running across his cheek—lunged toward Eris, blade drawn.

Eris was quicker.

In one smooth motion, he drew his own blade and blocked the strike, his face hardening with cold determination. But as he fought off the attacker, another figure appeared behind him, aiming a dagger at Y/N. She barely had time to react before she felt a cold hand grab her wrist, yanking her away.

“No!” Eris shouted, turning just in time to see her being pulled into the chaos.

Adrenaline surged through him as he rushed forward, but the crowd was too thick, the figures too numerous. He caught a glimpse of Samira and the guard somewhere, fighting off another group of attackers. He fought his way toward Y/N, his mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario. This wasn’t just a random attack—this was a carefully orchestrated ambush.

Y/N’s voice reached him, frantic. “Eris!”

But before he could reach her, another figure appeared, cutting off his path.

And then, with a sharp crack of sound, the world around them seemed to twist.

An explosion.

The ground shook beneath their feet, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Smoke and debris filled the air, blocking his vision. He coughed, his eyes stinging from the sudden cloud of dust.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @batboyslutt @k-godling @littowl @jaybbygrl @kissesfromnovalie @talesofadragon @tele86 @annamariereads16 @circe143 @yukimaniac @babypeapoddd @darkbloodsly @hauntedstudentobservationus

#acotar #eris acotar #acotar fluff #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris fluff #eris x you #azriel acotar

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sidsinning · 1 year ago

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#1 thing I am the most curious about/eager for the series to explore is 1000% the Morningstar family, especially Lilith

Bc who even is Lilith in reality besides what we have seen her as in the eyes of the other characters

Clearest image we get of her is in their family portraits

We usually see her as the menacing mystery figure working in the background, but in these photos she's clearly a normal happy mom who genuinely loves her family as any mother/wife would. She's not just a smirking dominant figure with a hidden agenda. All she's doing is having fun with her family and has no qualms about showing a range of emotion.

Charlie sees her as the role model she takes after and wants to make her proud. It turns out she sees Lucifer in pretty much the same light, but with the addition of having an awkward relationship bc of the distance they've had. With Lilith she never speaks about her with any lingering awkwardness, so we can assume she's been a good mom raising Charlie this whole time.

(For those who are saying "Lilith is a bad mom bc who leaves their kid alone for 7 years???"- she is literally thousands of years old while Charlie is well into adulthood before those 7 years. It's like a business trip to them. She wasn't an absentee parent for leaving for 7 years out of Charlie's 200+. The thing that's weird is that she's not communicating with Charlie. Our girl deadass owns property with a job and employees. Just bc she's not great at it and is having Lucifer step in to help recently, doesn't make Lucifer the superior parent suddenly. He's confirmed to be a kind of shitty dad despite how much he cares for her by the creators themselves. Kind of the point of his introduction ep guys. The 7 years are a mystery to unpack. Chill tf out.)

In this flashback people are blaming Lilith for separating Lucifer and Charlie on purpose, seemingly as the cause of their distant relationship. But it feels more complicated than that, based off Lucifer's reaction.

He's sad reaching out to Charlie by the end of the flashback, but when Lilith first appears he's smiling all the same and not deterred in giving Charlie to Lilith to carry away for what reason we don't know. A normal, standard occurrence he's used to. It seems both parents have agreed it's best for Lilith to take Charlie at this age now, for whatever reason.

Was his mental health affecting his parenting too much so they decided Lilith would shoulder the bulk of the task? Maybe Lilith really did separate the two somehow for her own reasons and convinced Lucifer with it? Another mystery reason each parent agree on?

When exactly did both of them separate? When Charlie was already an adult or around the time of the flashback when Lilith was her primary caretaker as a kid? (I'm assuming adulthood since Lucifer and Lilith seemed to still be getting along in the flashback despite her emotionless face.) Why did they separate when Lucifer seems to clearly love and yearn for her all the same, still wearing his wedding ring? 😭😭😭

And ofc what is this deal she made with Adam to stay chillin on a beach in heaven, and why did Adam, a reckless narcissist who likes yappin to whoever is gonna listen, not ever reveal this fact to her family to the very end?

There is just so much to unpack with their family and Lilith is the key ingredient rn to unlocking it

Like ofc I'm looking forward to Sir Pentious in heaven, Alastor's deal, the future of the rebuilt hotel, Lucifer now being a seemingly main character in season 2, etc.

But the Morningstars,,,different level

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lilith morningstar #charlie morningstar #sidrabbles

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i-dreamed-i-had-a-son · 6 months ago

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Started watching Transformers G1 for the first time (had only seen the movie) and had to make a best of list for the first few eps!

Starscream's IMMEDIATE, literally first line, introduction as "guy who will continuously try to undermine Megatron + take over the Decepticons"

Megatron has a bunch of savage one-liners to get him back for this (I particularly liked "your knowledge is only surpassed by your stupidity!")

"Stick it in neutral, Megatron!" from Optimus is FOUL work

G1 Prime is so sassy actually, like Optimus is dangling off a ledge (despite being able to fly) and Megatron is like, "Any last words, Prime?!" and he goes "None you'd want to hear, Megatron!"

"You're old, Megatron! Yesterday's model! Ready for the scrapheap!" WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS OPTIMUS

"JUNK! That's what you are--junk!!" 💀

And yet there are some like actually profound lines: "Power flows to the one who knows how. Desire alone is not enough." / "Time makes all things possible. I can wait." Apologies, G1, I wasn't familiar with your game.

Optimus really is dad-core,,, "At least ya can still talk, old buddy!" I love him 😭😭

"There's a thin line between being a hero and being a memory" this show's dialogue is a different breed

Megatron literally pointing his finger in Starscream's face and lecturing him about his mistakes alskdf

"You couldn't lead androids to a picnic, how could you pretend to lead the Decepticons?!" MEGATRON SHUSH

"It's just you and me, Megatron..." "Then you'd better get some help, Prime!" "Ohhh no...I've been waiting for this chance...!" I see the gay agenda was alive and well from the start. Doomed yaoi ftw

#transformers #transformers g1 #optimus prime #megatron #starscream #kay can i just catch my breath for a second #to clarify: i mean the '86 movie! not tf1 (which i have yet to watch but have heard great things about)!#maccadam

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hobicakess · 1 year ago

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PLAYING DANGEROUS | (one)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: warnings: no thoroughly edited, EW Ai , character death (nothing to cry about), black/plus sized coded reader, talks of murder, talks of torture, corporate evilness, violence, Mc reads hobi to filth, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), one maknae introduction, maknae helping cause chaos, cigarettes, Yoonie is an angry kitty this chapter, bratty mc, mc is kinda a bitch (a bad one at that), unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday) SMUT— nothing too crazy , choking, sub mc , missionary, mating press , man handling (yummy)

a/n: HEYYY omg this took me so long to write and it's just a little over 2k words... LMAO I suck i know, but we're getting there I pinkie promise. I really hope you all enjoy this and constructive criticism is welcome!!

TAGLIST: @sumzysworld @bbgniecyy @paramedicnerd004 @heartsbr0ken @grltwin @superbbananananana @secfir @darkuni63 @thisladysperspective @p34rluv @secfir @sarcastic-cookie @coffeedepressionsoup @ot7nem @italiekim @cynicalbitch666 @jalexd @whenthebeatdrop-beatdrop

2 MONTHS BEFORE JACKS ESCAPE

Kim multimedia station.

The place of business was always busy and there was never not anything to be done, Endless reports and stories in need of being written, the podcast teams always chattering about the hottest topics.

KMMs was a journalist's dream — your dream.

You were a known face around the company both online and in person. A pretty foreigner who was damn good at her job and that made you favored by the late CEO Kim. You were always hand picked by him to attend press conferences in his favor. He treated you kindly, allowing you into a large world of business pulling strings to get you the best stories helping you— a once broke freshly graduated English major climbing up in the world of reporting.

It's only been three months since CEO Kim passed away and the company was changing fast. You were grateful that you weren't a part of the many that were fired and replaced by new faces and AI, and you were now noticing how low the viewers were on podcasts, social media and blogs.

KMM was dying out very slowly and that meant you might go away with it. You were dedicated to your work, and the company that helped you become the person you were today.

And you were willing to do anything to not be forgotten.

Sleeping was not on the agenda right now.

A quick double tap to a cell phone showed an awfully bright screen reading 4:40 am. You had been lying in your bed mind racing while staring at your wall for the past hour and a half.

Jack in the box.

Rolling out the tangled bedsheets and arms you pull on a large T-shirt that'd been discarded a long with the other items of clothing on the floor shuffling towards the desk in the corner of your room. Laptop already open from your previous research when you pull out a pack of cigarettes from your drawer before plunging deep into the web. Your mouse clicks every site as your pen moved furiously taking in all the information you can about said serial killer.

“On May 14th, 2018 Serial Killer Jack In The Box was finally caught after a murdering spree in Seoul. The killings of ordinary outgoing individuals taken with a quick swipe of a knife and a long torture method.”

"Before his kills Jack likes to taunt his victim. He ironically sends them a Jack in the box to let them know they're next. The next few days said victim lives in constant fear, looking over their shoulder, leading the mostly known outgoing victim to slowly isolate themselves from loved ones in fear of them being hurt, eventually this leads to insomnia and in some cases hallucinations and histera. Then Jack disappears for a while making them think they're finally okay and he's gone until he wasn't."

The scoff that left your lips echoed through the quiet room, breathing out the nicotine smoke from your Cancer stick.

So Jack was an antisocial loser and took out his lack of social skills on people who could.

"No one knows of Jack's real identity. Police have reported that the man has lived many lives and has owned many faces for the past 11 years. Reporters have tried their hardest for the past 4 years to get a one on one interview with the man but unfortunately he refuses to talk only resorting to violence."

A reporter says he went for a handshake and left with two missing fingers.

Another says he watched the man bang his head on the wall hard enough to bleed when he asked the murderer's real name.

A broken arm??

“Fuck” you huff flicking the ash at the butt of your cigarette. You stare at the mugshot photos supplied at the end of the article. Dark wide eyes, shaggy black hair falling over his forehead, the piercings sticking from the bridge of his nose eyebrow and top lip.

The look definitely screams psycho but…. he was kinda hot. It took everything in you not to go and click the endless fanfiction that you stumbled upon.

A pair of warm lips press onto your shoulder causing you to jump. Turning to look over your shoulder at the shirtless sight of Kim Namjoon.

“We have to be up in four hours, baby, come back to bed.”

You hum into his embrace with a pout stubbing out the cigarette into the pink ashtray beside your computer. “Did you know Jack went through eight lawyers? Until one day he randomly called Kim Seokjin. That high profile guy from the law firm we're partnered with? they must know each other”

Though Namjoons attention was not on the words that were leaving your mouth. Hands wander all over your body while placing kisses on your neck, and cheeks.

“He literally bit the finger of the last reporter clean off. Like do you know how much force you have to put into that? I think he reads too much gothic liter—”

Cutting you off with a quick grab of your jaw turning your head to connect his plump lips to own. Pulling away with a cheeky dimpled smirk, “I’m not sure how I feel about you talking about another man.”

“Well you shouldn't feel any type of way because you aren't MY man.”

You squeal when you're lifted up from your chair and throw over a broad shoulder. He huffs when he throws you onto the memory foam comforter, your (his) shirt lifting up your thighs exposing your bare cunt. Immediately his big body was hovering over you as he slightly pressed his body weight onto you.

“Get off you dick” pushing and smacking his tan shoulders but that did nothing for you at this moment. “Well I'm trying to put it in you.”

He bullies your legs up over his shoulders as he taps his hard piece against the wetness between your thighs. “If something happens to me during this case I swear” choking on your words as he slowly but surely presses his thick head into your cunt.

“Fuck — may the man himself strike me down.”

Hand reaching to grip your throat smashing your lips together. Luckily your mind left the thoughts of the serial killer , the only thing on your mind right now was Namjoon and his ridiculously large cockm

It wasn't weird for you to obsess over your assignments to the point where it was all you thought about. Everyone does that.

Though this one you couldn't seem to finesse your way out of. Without the help of the late Kim you'd have to pull your own strings to get what you wanted and now that Namjoon was in charge he loved making your life harder.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up from your laptop hand stalling from moving on your notepad face to face with gorgeously pale Detective Min Yoongi.

“Yoonie” you smile, motioning for him to sit in front of you. He looked different from when you last saw him all the months ago, more tired and cat- like you guessed it was from the heavy responsibilities that came with the position as Chief of Seouls police department

“Did you just call to look at me?”

“Sorry it's just been . . a while” you push the large Iced Americano towards him as a peace offering. He gladly accepted it with an amused raise of an eyebrow, “You know I just wait for your call.”

“The phone works both ways” you internally wince , you sounded like an estranged father talking to his child.

“What do you want?” A frown spread across your face and lips, shutting your laptop. “I can't call an old friend for a friendly coffee date.”

You waited for his answer as he took his time generously drinking from his plastic cup. With a smack of his lips he sat the cup down leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You only call me ‘Yoonie’ when you want something” eyes scanning over the scatter of papers and notes taking up your side of the table.

“This must be serious”

Hands going to clasp under your chin you sigh, cutting the bullshit. “Three years ago you were the lead investigator on the Jack in the box case which brought you from rookie detective to Chief of police.”

“I was wondering if you could help old friend out tell me what you know about-”

“No.” He cuts you off with little to no thought.

“No? Why not? This isn't our first rodeo Min”

There were plenty of times Yoongi helped you with stories without a second thought. He'd give you case files, witnesses, and anything you needed but why not now?

“Anybody but him”

You scoffed at him, irritation rising in your body. “I need this story not anyone else.”

“Well I can't help you, princess.”

“That's bullshit!” Your voice raises causing a couple people around you to turn their attention towards the two of you. He stood up, chair scraping the floor, slamming a few dollars on the table. “Call me if you need anything else.”

Turning on his heel he leaves you sitting there in your slowly growing rage. You quickly hopped from your seat chasing after him, managing to catch up with his long strides. “Yoongi slow down dammit”

He twirls around grabbing onto you by your arm, “Who gave you this story.

“Namjoon he-” you whine as his grip tightens on your arm as his eyes slit. The angry red scar on his face makes his angry stare look even more intimidating. “You don't understand how dangerous Jack is. Just because he's behind bars doesn't mean he won't have people on the outside that will whack you for being a nosy reporter.”

He softens his hold, lifting his hand to rub your cold cheek. “If something happens to you. . .” He shakes his head letting you go.

“Sit this one out Y/N I don't want to see you in our precinct mortuary.” with that he walks away disappearing into the crowd.

You sniff doing the walk of shame back to the Café sitting back in your seat with your head in your hands

Detective Min Yoongi.

“Excuse me Ma’am” the blonde barista came over holding a box of blueberry doughnuts which happened to be your favorite. “It's on the house.. everyone saw your fight with your boyfriend, manager said this might help cheer you up.”

“Oh! Thank you but he wasn't my boyfriend, just a work colleague.” You tried to defend yourself but the sympathy in his eyes only grew so you accepted the treat with another thank you. “What is your name? I've never seen you here before.”

A soft brightens his pretty face, eyes scrunching slightly adding to the prettiness of his face. “Park Jimin, Ma’am.”

MEANWHILE

The buzz of the electrically wired door opening didn't alert the man that stayed deep in the corner of his cell. “Long time no see.”

“Why now?” the visitor asks, “After all this time you choose now.”

He giggled, the haunting sound bouncing off the walls. “Did you bring what I asked for”

The visitor threw the pictures and the box of cigarettes into the cell. “Answer my question.”

“It's been three longgg years.” He finally answered, moving from his corner to pick up the photos. “Tell me is she this gorgeous in person?”

“Just for her?”

“And I need to stretch my legs” he laughs louder this time the high pitched sound echoed even through the thick steel door that kept him locked in tight.

Jack was ready to play more games

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luvjunie · 2 years ago

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— when the dam breaks

contains: third person pov (42!miles’), no reader, feelings of anxiety, some harsh language, use of the n-word once, a one-sided fight, angst, mentions of grief, brief comfort at the end

summary: miles was holding himself together just fine, until he wasn’t. wc: 2,748

a/n: this fic is based on one of my headcanons from this post,(the 12th one). handling the grief of losing a parent is one of the hardest, most painful things to navigate, especially when you’re a teen and in school. i can directly relate to miles!42 because of this, which is probably why i’m able to go so in depth with his character. i’m really proud of how this turned out so i hope you guys enjoy reading <3

The back of Ms. Bellam’s history class was Miles’ favorite spot to sit in. The seat by the window, specifically. Where he could gaze out with the fantasy of being anywhere else but stuck listening to the lecture in his fifth block; forced to hear his teacher rave on about some old expedition he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about.

But today, Miles was not in the back of the class.

He had a bad feeling the moment the bell rung and the projector powered on to display the newest assignment the tall, stocky woman had on the agenda; a partnered project. Which, unfortunately, meant a new seating chart was on the horizon.

Miles must’ve spaced out during the introduction of the assignment, but his teacher’s assertive voice brought him back to the very moment he was dreading.

“Cody, you’re paired with—“ Ms. Bellam pulled a small slip of paper out from a little bucket of randomized names on her desk. “—Lauren.”

She ignored the quiet groan she got after unknowingly pairing two exes together and drew two more names. “Bailey, you’re with Lucas.”

“Sarah, you’re with… Faith. And Miles,” The brunette-haired teacher stuck her hand into the bucket once more to pull out the very last slip of paper, and read it with finality. “You’re with Gabby.”

Miles lifted his head and did a quick scan of the faces around, until he met the eyes of his new partner, Gabby, who gave him a small wave from the front of the class. His jaw clenched at the realization that he’d have to give up his safe corner, since the seats around him were filled, while the one next to her was open.

“Alright everyone, if you’re not already next to your partner, go find them.”

With an inaudible grumble and something along the lines of ‘i hate this fucking class’ and a mix of ‘kill me now’— Miles rose from his chair, snatched his backpack up with a little too much force, and crossed the classroom to plop down defeatedly next to the girl he was paired with.

Chin tucked in his hand and eyes glued to the ticking clock above the white board, he didn’t know how long he sat like that, or how much valuable information he’d missed while he ignored the overly peppy, thirty-year old’s directions to the class. But he did know that the minute hand on that damn analog device wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. The droning of voices overlapping and the bouncing of ideas filled the once silent air after instructions had been given, but Miles was far from focused on the task at hand.

The incessant tapping of his pencil against the hard plastic of his desk, matched with the clearly agitated bounce of his leg had his partner stealing experimental glances in his direction— her lips having been licked ample times from the stress of debating on whether to make the difficult decision of speaking to the boy who was clearly not interested in conversation— or even being here at all.

She spoke up anyway. “Um… So most of the other groups have pretty much chosen already. That means we’re left with James Cook, Vasco de Gama, Ferdinand Magellan, or—“

“You can pick for us. I don’t really care which one.” Miles interrupted.

“Oh—“ Gabby blinked. His response was curt, but at least she got one. “Okay then, Ferdinand Magellan.” Flipping through the rubric that had been passed out at some point, she referred to the second page with her index finger. “It says our presentation has to be between six to eight slides, which includes the works cited for our research. So we could do one introduction slide, and maybe about,” she paused to think. “Four?— information slides? And then we could add some fun facts and trivia questions at the end so we can get our class participation points in without too much effort. That cool with you?”

Gabby was a nice girl. She never bothered him, never looked at him weird when he’d come into class late sometimes, and had actually ran through the hallway to return the notebook that fell out of his open backpack just last week. He wasn’t aggravated at her, but more so at the fact that everybody could stare at the back of his head now instead of the other way around, like it was before. It made him self conscious about everything, even down to the way he was sitting in his chair. He could feel a few beams on his back right about now, and adjusted his position slightly.

Miles sighed and reminded himself to respond to her politely. “Uh-huh. Sounds good.”

A voice to his left behind him caught his attention, the voice in question belonging to one of the most obnoxious boys he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing— Ethan Thompson. Someone who always had too much to say and nothing productive or appropriate to add— it usually being something creepy or gross about a girl he wanted to ‘get to know’.

Miles would’ve tuned him out, like he always did, but this time it was impossible. Probably because out of all the conversations regarding the explorers meant to be researched, this one had absolutely nothing to do with history, or even school for that matter.

“Bro, did you hear about what happened to…”

Miles strained to hear as best as he could without moving from his seat, though it was a struggle since Gabby was still talking his ear off to the right of him about who would do what when it came to their workload.

“Miles?”

He ignored her as another voice chimed in, and his back stiffened.

“I know dude, my sister told me about it. Said he was killed in action or somethin’ like that… I just know his mom is crushed. I feel really bad.”

Miles knew people talked about this, he wasn’t dumb. But damn, did they have to do it when he was right there?

Then, there was a laugh.

Miles was confused. He didn’t find anything regarding the topic of their conversation even remotely comical.

“Fuck that,” Ethan quieted his voice, though not quiet enough. “That just means Mrs. Morales is single and up for grabs now.”

It took less than a second for Miles’ blood to simmer to a scalding boil. He held a subtle finger up and quieted Gabby, who was currently asking him about what they should research first.

“Can you give me just… one second?” he asked gently.

Gabby’s words died on her tongue and she gave a muddled nod.

Miles threw his elbow over the back of his chair when his torso whipped around, his eyes glazed with enmity and immediately catching Ethan’s.

“The fuck you just say?”

Ethan froze.

Miles’ tone was lethal, rage lifting the volume above the blurred chattering around, venom spitting from his tongue like he intended to kill the boy with words alone. The speed in which the class fell silent would’ve been humorous had there not been such hostility within the air.

“Miles, language!” Ms. Bellam’s eyes snapped up from her computer screen, her face a picture of disbelief at his unusual vitriol. He was always quiet as a mouse in her class, well behaved above all.

Jaws hung slack, the gazes of the students around darted back and forth between the two boys continuously, the tension in the room palpable.

Miles sat up straighter in his seat, jaw clenched and his patience dwindling. To say he was seething would be a dangerous understatement.

“Nah, nah Ms. B,” His head cocked, and his eyes narrowed at Ethan, ruinously. “I wanna know what this nigga just said ‘bout my fuckin’ mom.”

“Oh shit…” Gabby gulped. Today was the most she’d heard Miles speak in class almost the entire semester.

“It was a joke, bro.” Ethan huffed a chuckle, a nervous thing that his friend easily picked up on. Miles was not one to bluff, and Ethan was notorious for taking things too far.

“Don’t bro me, repeat that dumb shit you just said and watch how fast I knock your ass out.” Miles gritted through his teeth, hot air puffing through his nostrils like a bull who’d just seen red.

“Boys, enough!” Ms. Bellman was standing now, hands planted to her desk as she watched with bated breath, just like the rest of the class-now-turned-audience.

Ethan shrugged, and Miles swore he felt his eye twitch.

Strike one.

Then, the boy playfully nudged his friend’s arm with a cocky smirk, as if he thought the threat he’d just received wasn’t one that would be carried out.

Strike two.

“He’s baiting you, Miles…” Gabby whispered dejectedly, in warning, only so Miles could hear. But his tunnel vision had already set in.

“Go ‘head. Repeat yourself.” Miles demanded.

Nails digging into the skin of his palms hard enough to leave crescents in their wake, there was a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could get into serious trouble if he didn’t get his emotions in check, fast. He’d progressed so quickly in his after school M.M.A classes, that now, even getting into a simple fist fight could land him a serious assault charge. A judge would take one look at the history of his intense training, and the option to deem his hands as deadly weapons in the case would immediately be presented, and most likely acted upon.

Knocking the teeth out of a rich white boy would never be the smart decision here, especially not for someone who looked the way he did.

He’d be sent straight to juvie.

“I mean, all I was sayin’ is, technically—“ Ethan threw his hands up in a careless manner. “If I play my cards right, I could be your future step-daddy.”

Strike three.

Ms. Bellam was yelling now. “Ethan, principal’s office, now!”

And that probably would’ve been the better option, had he actually had a choice.

Miles’ movements were swift when he shot out of his seat, and the students in his way followed suit with yelps and gasps as they quickly removed themselves from the area. The desks blocking his pathway to pummeling the shit out of this kid loudly screeched against the school’s tile when they were shoved out of the way, and the one he’d mindlessly flipped over in his stampede proceeded to erupt the room into pure pandemonium.

One punch would’ve been good enough, Miles knew that. But in this moment, thinking rationally was so far out of his reach he would’ve missed it even if he’d jumped for it. He’d swung a closed fist to Ethan’s jaw and knocked him to the floor with ease, then followed him down, sat on his chest and had the boy’s arms pinned under his knees so he couldn’t protect his snobby-ass face. One punch would’ve been good enough, but just two vehement blows later, the satisfying crack of a bone that wasn’t his under Miles’ knuckles had him sending a few more into the reddened face of the boy beneath him, just to really get his point across.

“Jesus Christ— Miles!” Ms. Bellman scrambled from her seat in a panic and rushed to fling the classroom’s door open, her desperate yells directed to anyone who might’ve been strolling the hallways. “We need security in here! You-!” She pointed to a student with a bathroom pass. “Go get security, and tell them to come to room 205, now! Go!”

Everyone was yelling at once, but Miles couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing of rage in his ears. Anger is only grief turned sour— a terribly perilous thing to leave untreated.

Some of his classmates were frozen with shock, or fear, maybe— hands clasped over their gaped mouths while others had their phones out with the camera app open—vampires for some good drama while they hooted and hollered at the most exciting thing they’d seen this entire year.

“That’s enough!”

Strong arms suddenly hooked under Miles’ armpits and prevented his fist from worsening the damage already done. Two male teachers from neighboring classrooms had rushed in and yanked him up and off Ethan, his hips bucking as he kicked his way up onto his feet. Miles’ chest expanded and collapsed with the weight of his heaving breaths, face flushed with the remnants of his lost temper as he directed his attention to Ethan’s friend, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“When your boy wake up, tell him watch his mouth next time!”

Miles didn’t know why he was yelling. It was common knowledge that it’s pretty rare for someone who’s unconscious to understand what you’re saying to them.

He didn’t struggle when the two teachers dragged him away, but when they shoved him out the door and into the hall with more force than he thought necessary, he snatched his arms away from their grasp with a rolled shrug, and huffed a frustrated grunt about how he knew how to walk on his own.

—

The drive home was eerily silent. The radio hadn’t been touched, and neither had Miles by his mother’s gaze the moment they’d left the principal’s office after he received his verdict.

Out of school suspension. One week.

It was the best the administrative staff could do after Rio swallowed her pride and went as low as begging them not to expel her boy.

Slumped in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap, Miles didn’t bother to look at the bruises he knew were forming on his knuckles. It was a familiar feeling, and at the moment he was more concerned with why it felt like his throat had been stuffed with cotton when he tried to talk.

“Mamá, I—“

“Do not. Speak.” Rio’s breath wavered, her hands clutching the wheel so hard she thought she’d crush it. She tried not to let her voice break. “Not one word.”

Silence.

—

It all settled in as they climbed the stairwell, the images of what just happened flashing back in his mind every time he blinked; what he’d done playing over and over again in a continuous loop. The wooden railings creaked under the weight of his mother’s hand, and as she knowingly skipped the one that had weakened over the years, he knew the home that held every single emotion he tried to leave behind when he went to school was now just a few steps up.

Rio’s key twisted in the lock before she opened the door, and Miles followed behind her, shoulders slouched dispiritedly. He resembled something of a stray puppy; desperate for attention, but acceptant and grateful that it, as much of a nuisance as it may be, was being tolerated enough to stay on it’s finder’s heels.

He thought being scolded by his mother was bad, but the lack thereof was even worse. Her brows were clenched, and her conflicted yet somehow blank expression told him that she truly did not have any words for him as she leaned on the kitchen counter, hands clasped firmly around the edge so tightly her knuckles paled. She didn’t even know where to start, and Miles didn’t blame her. He refused to explain why he’d snapped when it was asked of him. When his mother’s widened eyes had pleaded with him to tell the principal what happened in that classroom that set him off in such a way, he didn’t. He had no reason not to, at least one he could think of right now, but his voice just wouldn’t allow it. Both in that office, and now in their kitchen, dimly lit by the warm light above the stove, the weight of his mother’s disappointment clung to the suffocating silence, like a fish to a hook and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mamá, I’m sorry.” He whispered in a quick breath, the lump in his throat painful when he swallowed it.

“Good money, Miles.” Rio shook her head, a hand coming up to rest over the rise and fall of her chest. “Good money! We paid good money to get you into that school, your dad and I. I work hard to keep you there and you just—“

Dad.

And the dam broke. Though its foundation wasn’t very strong to begin with— Miles’ shoulders crumbled under the weight of his actions and his tears flooded past his waterline with choked sobs that left no room for air.

Whatever Rio was going to say had been forgotten. The sight of her son sobbing in a way she hadn’t seen since the night they’d received the news immediately put a stop to her reprimanding. Now, she was truly worried.

“Oh Miles, come come come,” She hastily tugged him into a hug and wrapped him firmly in her arms, her hands repeatedly rubbing up and down the expanse of his back. “¿Qué es Mijo? (what is it, son?) Talk to me. No te lo guardes, ¿recuerda?” (no holding it in, remember?)

Miles could barely catch his breath, and somehow talking about it was just as painful as the ache that resided deep in his chest.

“I—It was Dad, it was about—“ a quick breath in split his sentence in half. “About Dad. He was—talking about what ha—happened and I—“ Miles tried for another, but it caught in his throat, ragged and choppy and had his ribcage stuttering from the lousy attempt to cease his hyperventilating. The fact that he couldn’t get his words out uninterrupted only frustrated him more; only made him cry harder. He scrubbed at his tears with the back of his hand, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

“He said—“ Another wilted inhale, and a hiccup. “It was abo—about you, and it was terrible and I— I just, I got so angry, and I tried Mamá, I did. But I couldn’t and—and then I was on him and I’m sorry—“

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rio used a hand to bring his head into her shoulder, his cries muffled and his tears wetting the sleeve of her blouse as his rambling came to a halt. Miles clutched onto her tightly, arms round her waist as he fell apart in front of the woman who’d tried her best to piece him back together.

“Respira, Mijo, respira… (breathe).” Rio whispered. “Please.” Seeing her son so distraught had brought on tears of her own, but she shut her eyes, and tucked away her own feelings so she could focus on his. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“But you’re mad at me, I don’t want you to be mad at me—“

Rio shook her head and tutted at him. “I’m not mad at you, papa. I understand. Okay? I’m not angry. No.” She couldn’t be upset with him for something like this, not when he could barely shelter himself from his own guilt.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Miles was inconsolable as Rio continued rubbing his back, and her voice shook when she spoke, but she kept the uncertainty she held within her heart concealed from her promise to him.

“We’re going to be okay.”

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