#its so beautiful but also i want to crawl out of my own skin

[panncakes]

im so close to finishing our wives under the sea and i have never read a more hauntingly beautiful story about love and loss and grief that also made me feel the most uncomfortable in my own skin before

[rafesslxt]

please please please do some hardcore fluff! i just want to see Theo really showing his love language (physical touch) like randomly touching y/n and doing anything to be close to her! kind of “i wish i could be in your skin” kind of thing, if you can!

touch starved | Theodore Nott

note: hi, thank u so much for my first request! I wrote a little bit with my ideas too, hope you still like it <3

warnings: some cursing, angst, arguing, hufflepuff!reader, me trying to write hardcore fluff, lmk if there are more

note: request are OPEN! English is not my first language

Theo was always interested in being as close to you as he could. He would love to just crawl under your skin if that was somehow possible. He loves to touch you, no matter where you are or who’s around you two.

But there were moments when this also brought its difficulties.

"Now, everything you need for the potion is at the front, take the ingredients you think would be suitable and get started." Professor Slughorn said.

Theo stood up like the good boyfriend he is and got all the Ingredients that he and y/n needed. "Here principessa, got everything we need." "Thanks Theo.“ You gave him a small kiss on his left cheek and started with the potion right in front of you.

Your boyfriend stood as close to you as possible, sometimes even right behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and stirred the kettle. He knew that other students gave him looks sometimes, but he didn't care. He just had to be near you and touch you in some way. He couldn't help it, you're like a drug to him that he can't get enough of.

Whether it was your soft skin, which smelled of vanilla from your bodylotion or your long shiny hair that smelled of peaches and was so easy to wrap around his fingers.

Your own scent drove him crazy the most. When you came fresh out of the shower, with nothing on you. Sometimes it took hours before you could finally get dressed and Theo would take his hands off you.

But he especially loves it when you play with his hair while you're both lying on the sofa in the Slytherin common room. The light tugging on individual strands made him moan softly and drove him crazy. Again, doesn‘t matter If you‘re alone or with your friends beside you. They all knew that Theo was completly smitten for you.

He also liked it when you gave him a massage after training Quidditch. "Yeah, right there baby, that‘s it.“ He groaned. He needed this. Your touch, your skin on his skin, your hands on his muscles. 

" Theo? You there ? I think it is ready, you can stop stirring." He woke up from his daydreams and looked down at himself. You were already looking up at him, chin resting on his chest. " Yeah, sorry." He put the trowel aside to stir and put both hands on your hips now. His lips just touching yours slighty as he whispered " You're beautiful." " Thank you." She smiled at him and placed both her hands on his abs above his shirt now.

His head lowered next to your ear " I need to feel you amore. Need to feel your skin on mine." He whined.

You giggled and looked around embarrassed. " Teddy, we're in the middle of class, you'll have to be patient." " Ugh... I fucking hate school."

That was a week ago now.

It had been a week since he had been able to touch you. To say Theo was on the edge was an understatement.

" Where's your other half Nott?" Blaise, who took every chance to gossip, asked. " What do you care?" Theo bit back, knowing that he didn't ask because he cared. "Oh just so, I'm just surprised as you were inseparable before and now you're hardly ever seen together. Trouble in paradise?" He provoked.

Mattheo had to hold Theo back so that the situation didn't escalate completely, but truth be told, Theo was just as worried. For different reasons to Blaise, but he wasn't entirely wrong. It was as if you were slipping out of his hands like sand. It was the weekend now and just like every other weekend before, you and the boys were always out together as a group in Hogsmeade.

What Theo didn't know, however, was that you weren't ignoring him on purpose, let alone ignoring him at all. You just had a lot on your plate, helping other students with their lessons, being a assistant for some teachers with extra work, doing your own homework and being Head Girl of your house. You had so much on your plate that you didn't even realize Theo was feeling like this.

"Where's y/n?" Mattheo asked his best friend a little more quietly so that the conversation remained private. " She's helping some first years with their studies and finding their way around Hogwarts now that the new year has started. "

Just as your boyfriend was about to hit his head down on the table, a soft voice sounded next to him " Hey baby, why are you hanging your head like that?" " Principessa?" His head shot up and his face began to beam with joy. " Come here sit with me." He scooted a little closer to Mattheo to give you more room. A few Slytherins gave you looks because you were sitting with them as a Hufflepuff, but you were already used to that.

You grabbed something small to eat and chatted with the rest of the table. You immediately feel Theo scoot close to you and put his hand on your leg. You smile a little and look at him. " What's wrong?" " I missed you." He whispered against your head, smelling your hair for the first time in a week. " When are you free again?" He asked and reached for your hand, but you stood up again at the same moment.

" I have to go, but I'll see you later, yes? " You quickly gave him a kiss and grabbed some more fruit. " What? But you haven't even eaten properly? Where are you going?" " Helping first graders, you know that." You smile and disappear from the Great Hall just as quickly as you came.

" Ugh…" Now he dropped his head on the table.

The day passed and it was time to go to Hogsmeade. "Hey man, maybe she's already there or she'll be coming after, don't worry." Mattheo tried to reassure his friend.

" It pisses me off. I'm her boyfriend! I should be more important than some stupid first years." Theo paced up and down the common room. " Yo, can we go?" Draco asked, coming out of his room. " Go ahead, I'll catch up with you." Determined, Theo got up and walked in the direction of the Great Hall first. Maybe you were hungry and came back. As he searched half the school for you, all sorts of thoughts and worries ran through his head.

What if you deliberately seek out so many tasks to keep your distance from him? What if your relationship is coming to an end? No, that couldn't be. He's the perfect boyfriend. He always listens to you, is always there for you, supports you in all your decisions, is attentive, loves spending time with you, even if it wasn't that important to you, but he also showered you with gifts.

Where could you be? He thought until a light bulb came on above his head. The library, of course. He ran up the many stairs until he stood in front of the library. Nervously, he looked for you. What happens if he asks you about it? What should he do if she says that she no longer wants to be in a relationship with him?

Although all the girls in Hogwarts were after him and he's extremely self-confident, he only had eyes for you and you were probably the only person in the world who could make him feel that way.

His heart skipped a beat when he discovered you with three first years. He cleared his throat quietly so as not to startle you. "Teddy? What are you doing here?" y/n whispered. You're the only one who's ever been allowed to call him that. The boys sometimes made fun of him, but were very quiet as soon as he threatened them.

" Can we talk for a moment? It's important." He urged, looking between her and the students. "You keep working on the task I gave you, okay? I'll be right back." The little ones nodded obediently and continued to work diligently.

You walked with Theo a few shelves to the back where you could talk undisturbed. "Is everything all right? Did something happened?" You asked worriedly. "Don't you want to be with me anymore?" He asked directly. " What? What are you talking about?" Confused and a little disappointed, she looked at her boyfriend. " You're not here all week y/n, no matter when we see each other, I have the feeling that you're taking every opportunity not to be with me. I - I'm scared for us. I miss you, damn I can't be without you around." He confessed.

"Teddy, that's absurd. I just want to help! You know I need good grades for my degree and it's easier to get them that way. I would never want to hurt you." She took a few steps towards him. "But you do! We are a couple! Shouldn't we be together more? I miss you so much, it's like my air is gone to breathe. I - I love you, y/n. Fuck I love you so much!"

Although they were together, neither of you had ever said the L word before. " You- You do?" " Of course! Why else would I be with you? Why else am I looking for you all over the school? Why don't you understand me?" Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair, completely enraged. " Theo I l - " " No you know what ? Forget it. It was stupid to come here, don't let me bother you. " " But - " but he was already out the door. " - I love you too." You whispered as he disappeared from the library.

On the way out, he realized what he had said. Fuck, wasn't he wrong after all? He knows how important your future and grades are to you. The more steps he took towards Hogsmeade, the more nauseous he felt. For the first time he told you that he loves you and then left you like that? Merlin, he has to straighten that out.

When he arrived in Hogsmeade, he bought a large quantity of your favorite flowers and lots of roses, chocolate and a present.

He was walking through the alleyways when the boys came towards him, Mattheo at the front. "Hey man, we've already seen you - what's wrong with you? Didn't go so well huh?" Theo shook his head. " No, not a bit, to be honest, I completely messed it up."

" Good luck then, don't mess it up again. She's pretty cool for a Hufflepuff," Mattheo grinned.

Back at Hogwarts, Theo already had a plan but he needed help. "Jane! Hey, I need your help, please." He looked at your best friend, who only returned his look in confusion. "What do you want, Nott?" She wasn't the biggest fan of his, but respected y/n's decision and trust in him. " I know it sounds crazy, but you have to let me into your common room." Jane started to laugh out loud " What? Have you gone crazy? In case you haven't noticed, you're a Slytherin."

" Jane please, I messed up and I need to apologize to her. I have something planned for her ." He pointed to the flowers and presents in his hand. "And you have to do this in her room?" She asked with a sigh. "Please." He swallowed all his pride and tried to be as convincing as possible.

Annoyed, your best friend exhaled and shook her head. "Okay, but let's keep this between us and for the record, I'm only doing this for y/n!" If Theo wasn't himself, he would have loved to squeeze her for joy. "Thank you! Can you give this to y/n? It says that she should meet me in her room." She took the note and pocketed it.

"Then come on, I don't have all day." She led him to the entrance of the Hufflepuff. " You never tell anyone about this, understand?" He nodded and continued to follow her. They walked through the same corridor as the school kitchen was. Suddenly, Theo stood in front of huge barrels, looking questioningly at them

Jane tapped on a barrel that was stacked between two others. She did it in a certain rhythm. Suddenly, the path to the common room opened up. Theo had never seen it before, let alone heard of it. " Through there, up and you're inside. Her room is the tunnel on the far left." " Thanks again. " He walked through the middle barrel and then up a short steep path through an earthy corridor, which brought him to the common room. The room was empty, probably everyone was out in Hogsmeade or somewhere in the castle for the weekend. As Jane had told him, he went through the small underground tunnel on the far left. The doors were round and looked like the lids of barrels.

Not quite his taste, but it all looked very cozy and sunny. (JKR had probably once described it that way.)

Inside y/n's room, Theo started putting up his favorite flowers and scattering rose petals around the room. He placed chocolate on the bed and kept the present in his pocket. It wasn't long before he heard the door open.

"Theo? What are you doing here?" You spoke a little more quietly, afraid that someone would notice that he was here. "Y/n please listen, I'm incredibly sorry. I shouldn't have hit on you like that, I know how important your grades are to you and I should have known that you wouldn't ignore me on porpose. And I'm also sorry that I just left like that after I said I love you. "

" Oh Teddy… " You walked up to him and hugged him tightly. He threw his arms around her and hugged her as tight as he could. " Is it true what you said?" " What do you mean?" " That you love me? " He looked down and took her face in both hands. " Of course, I love you amore. You're all that matters to me. That's why I reacted the way I did. I was… desperate and so… fucking touch starved. " I love you too, Teddy. " you told him with a smile on her face, looking into his eyes.

" Really?" He couldn't have been happier. " And all this wasn't even necessary." She pointed to the rose petals and chocolate. "Because I'm sorry too, I really should have thought more about us. Jane's going to help me tutor the children from now on. That way I have more time for us."

" I'm so glad everything is okay." He whispered against your forehead. " Me too." He took your chin between his fingers and lifted your head. " You're driving me crazy, dolcezza."

His lips brushed yours just softly at first, until you couldn't wait any longer and filled the gap between you two. The kiss was gentle but passionate. Theo grabbed both of your thighs and lifted you up, whereupon you wrapped both legs around him.

He sat down on the bed behind him, with you on his lap. You started giggling as he began kissing your neck. " Teddy… I don't know when Jane is coming back." " I want you so so so so bad… " " I know, but now is not the right time. I'm sorry… " He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and smiled gently. " It's okay, don't worry about it. Besides, I have something for you. " He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cute little package with a bow. " Here baby, open it. " " Theo… you didn't have to do that, really. "

"Open it, trust me you'll love it." You carefully open the bow and flip open the small box. You accelerate quickly. " Oh Merlin, it's beautiful Theo. " With tears in your eyes, you took the golden necklace out of the box. On it hung the letter T which was set with small individual diamonds. "Will you put it on me?"

He took the necklace from your hand and pulled your hair to one side. He carefully put it around your neck and then put your hair back over your shoulders. "Thank you Teddy, I love it." Full of love, you kissed him, causing him to fall backwards onto the mattress. He briefly parted from your lips and looked down at your decollete, where his letter T now lays. " Fuck, now I want you even more than before. " You had to start giggling again. " Trust me Teddy, the right moment will come. " you said and sealed your words with a kiss.

Hope u enjoyed! Part 2 ?? Let me know ;)

my master list

xoxo Sarah

[sinsirellaxx]

toxic boys x ethreal!stunning!reader

Like shes SO pretty that everyone has a crush on her,attention is always on her,shes just beautiful and the face of Hogwarts

Slytherin Boys – Their partner is the face of Hogwarts

Warning: Toxic boys! Not proofread as always.

Mattheo …

… is honestly torn between loving and hating it. He was obsessed in love with your beauty, and he basked in the envious glares thrown his way for being your boyfriend, but he also absolutely hated the idea that other people probably got off on you.

… wants to hide you from the world sometimes – when he is feeling low or whenever something triggers his jealousy, which obviously happens way too often to be considered healthy anymore.

… would try to make you wear modest clothing and constantly told you that you did not need any make-up or whatever else you used to enhance your beauty.

… would be more aggressive with you admirers behind your back – it got worse the deeper he felt for you.

… can be mean to you, whenever you don’t agree with him and stubbornly insist to dress up.

“Babe, you are beautiful the way you are. There is no need for all of that – or are you so desperate for attention?”

Theodore …

… is cocky because he finally found his equal. He knew that all the girls were in love with him and that even some boys’ eye lingered on him for longer than necessary, so it was normal for him to have the prettiest partner – right? Right. At least until you outshone even him.

… would clench his jaw whenever the two of you were stopped by some pathetic male asking you for something – anything. A scoff leaving his lips whenever you agreed to help with whatever problem – cause, how dare you? You were just too sweet for your own good.

… screamed internally, whenever you cancelled your plans with him, because a fourth year desperately needed tutoring. His mood ruined for the day. His anger would find its peak when he would see you in Hogsmeade with that student.

… would be annoyed by you at some point. The less people saw him the more he actually started to dislike you.

“They are just using you because you are so gullible. It’s annoying really.”

Lorenzo …

… immediately hates the attention – he should be the only one to look at you with those eyes and the thought of half of the school staring at you lovestruck made his skin crawl with badly contained anger.

… would go out of his way to draw the people’s attention to himself instead. If that didn’t work, he’d just start claiming you publicly: kissing you in the corridors whenever no professor was around, leaving hickeys in obvious places and always having an arm wrapped around your waist possessively.

… his patience snaps if one of his boys actually shows interest in you.

“Love, come here … let’s skip that double-date … you wouldn’t even like my friend – he’s an ass.”

Draco …

… wears you on his arm like a rolex Daytona.

… every compliment directed at you fed his own ego.

… bought you designer clothes and expensive jewelry to make you stand out even more – honestly, he would treat his partner like a dress up doll.

… would hate it if you were to pay attention to any of your admirers though. You were his – and you were definitely not allowed to engage in any conversation with those dimwits without him by your side.

“Doll, would you please wear that pretty black dress that I got you last week? We’ll be having dinner with the boys.”

Blaise …

… is stressed. He knows the minds of pervy teenagers, and it unsettles him to know that so many are obsessed with you.

… would wake up extra early to accompany you to breakfast and/or your first class.

… would run through the halls to get to you as quickly as possible if you didn’t have the same classes.

… would probably also threaten someone that made you feel uncomfortable or belittle them in front of a crowd, always watching them rush away with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Don’t worry, babe. He deserved that.”

Tom …

… doesn’t notice your admirers at first. But when he does … he hates it. Absolutely detests the attention you get.

… would find it annoying and inconvenient.

… would drag you along if someone tried talking to you and just force you away from that person.

… would scare everyone who approaches you – and due to his friends and minions he always knows about everything – even if he wasn’t with you when it happened.

… would definitely murder someone if they took it too far without batting an eye.

“The annoying Gryffindor boy disappeared? How curious.”

[axelsagewrites]

Absolutely love your writing would you mind doing another Robb Stark one where it’s kind like the Brienne Of Tarth one where y/n is Robert and Cersi daughter very nice and innocent and it an arranged marriage but they fall in love but this is set just when they meet and the royals arrive in winter fell and they’ve had a couple of conversations and maybe it’s their engagement party and y/n very overwhelmed so she goes outside and Robb follows her out worried. She’s nervous for the bedding ceremony cause Cersi has filled her head with these horrors of what it’s like wanting to protect her daughter in her own way so y/n is very clueless when it comes to anything concerning sex and being intimate.Y/n asks if they can kiss now so it’s like their first moment on their own without people watching them and he agrees and it’s starts off innocent but all y/n knows is that she likes kissing Robb and the way it feels so she just lets herself get lost in the moment as does Robb but when he gets a bit ‘exited’ he had to stop her wanting to be honourable to her but she’s like confused and Robb promises he’ll explain and show her when they r married so like kind of smutty as kissing can be a fluffy ending 💕

Robb Stark*Sweet Girl

Pairing: Robb x Baratheon F!Reader

Warnings: talks of sex, suggested assault, Cersei being herself

Word count: 4129

Masterlist Here

Everything was about to change. And if your mother was right then this was then Winterfell could have been a fate worse than death. For years your father told you stories from his life. In near everyone he would bring up the same name. Ned Stark. His brother in spirit, almost in marriage. The way your father spoke about Lynna was so beautiful that it almost made you forget he had a wife. His stories of the Starks were filled with honour and pride and love. When your father had first brought up the betrothal between you and Robb Stark for the rest of dinner you were excited. Then your mother invited you to her chambers for tea.

She poured it in silence before dismissing the maids and servants with a silent wave of her hand. The smile she wore was filled with sadness, anger, and a hint of love. Your mother tried to love you, she tried to love all her children, she just didn’t know how. The thing she always did was try and protect you, however.

The silence clung to the room like fog. Raising the cup to your lips, you took a small sip of the strong-smelling tea with a forced smile. “The teas lovely. Thank you, mother,”

Cersei smiled, not even picking up her own cup, “You have always been a sweet child,” You smiled at the compliment, but it was replaced with confusion as your mother continued, “Its one of my biggest regrets. My sweet girl you are to be married,” Cersei took your hands as your stomach bubbled with a mix of emotions, “And it is time you learned the truth of it all,”

“Your husband will not love you. he may like you; he could try love you, but he won’t,” as she spoke you felt your heart shatter in your chest, “The only ones you can count to love you are your children,” Cerci placed a hand over yours, but it was cold. “My sweet girl marriage is our war, and we fight the battles every day,” You knew there was no love lost between your parents but to hear her so crudely describe your future made the floor spin, “Sadly you’ve already bled but we’ll discuss the…details of what comes after another day,”

“What details?” you pressed.

Cerci sighed and looked off to the ceiling, “Men want one thing darling,”

“What do they want?” you asked, still clueless to what she was implying, “The septas always said I was a quick study, I can learn.”

Her hand dropped from yours with a hollow chuckle, “Oh sweet girl. Sweet, sweet girl. You really don’t know what you’re in for,”

You were to leave for Winterfell in less than a week and the whole week you spent listening into the whispers of lady’s gossip. It was also around this time you began to listen to how the men spoke. It made your skin crawl. Whenever you were in front of your father or siblings you did your best to seem happy for the wedding. You tried your best to be happy yourself. But your mothers’ words flashed over your mind every night. Maybe Robb would be different?

Travelling with your mother didn’t help much since she continued to tell you tales. She told you how to dress, how to act, how to conceal marks, how to flirt, how to act interested, how to lie. When you tried to ask how the deed was done, she did not have the heart to teach you. “Just lay their sweetheart. He’ll do the rest. Just don’t let him hear you cry,”

When you arrived at Winterfell all the joy you felt when your father first told you of the marriage was long gone. Despite this you tried you best to at least look happy. Maybe your mother was wrong after all. Anything was better than being trapped in this stuffy carriage for even another day. Clambering out of that carriage cage was like seeing sunlight for the first time.

The sight of people other than your mother and siblings made a smile appear on your face that for once wasn’t forced. Tommen clung to your side as your mother approached the Starks. Tommen tugged at your sleeve, and you pulled your gaze away from the tall walls of Winterfell to crouch down to him. “Which one are you marrying?” he whispered.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. “Take a guess,” you whispered back, still crouched, as you finally looked at the row of Stark children. You knew which one was Robb in an instant. He had gorgeous curly hair and blue eyes you could see from even this distant. The clean shave showed off his strong jaw and even under the fur you could tell he was strong. Tommen’s eyes scanned the children before he sheepishly pointed to Robb. “What a clever little prince,” you whispered, ruffling his hair as you stood. A proud smile fell on his face causing you to grin.

When you looked up from your brother you noticed the piercing blue eyes were now on you. you felt yourself flush at his gaze and quickly turned your attention elsewhere. It didn’t last long as your father soon excited the courtyard with the lord of Winterfell. “Perhaps its time the children finally long met,” You heard Catelyn Tully say.

She seemed kind despite the Norths reputation for harshness. Your mother had drilled it into you recently that looks could be deceiving, however. You tried to ignore how your stomach flipped as your mother silent nodded before approaching your siblings. She merely gestured her head at you before disappearing to talk to Uncle Jamie.

Taking a deep breath, you took Tommen and Marcellas hands and led them over to the Starks. Joffrey was dragging his feet behind you, and you knew he would be no help in this awkward introduction. “Lady Stark,” you greeted with a bow.

“Your graces,” she said, bowing further down. The children did the same.

When a couple moments passed you cringed before realising you had yet to tell them to stand. You quickly gestured for them to do so, glancing behind to look for your mother who had likely disappeared to find a case of wine. “Lady Stark I-,” you paused, glancing at the expecting looks before whispering, “I have no idea what im supposed to do in all honesty,”

The laugh she let out warmed your cheeks but the chuckle you heard from Robb made your stomach flutter. It was deep and hearty and made your skin tingle, “Its alright sweet girl,” Catelyn said, taking your hand, “Its an honour to have you here,”

“The honours your grace. I’ve never seen a more beautiful castle,” Joffrey scoffed at your words, and you turned to glare at the snotty boy who quickly shrunk under your look. “My siblings,” you tried to return to polite conversation, “Joffrey, Tommen, and Marcella, and I are grateful for your hospitality. Perhaps Tommen and Bran I believe would make good play mates. Marcella and Sansa and Arya as well of course. I did get the names, right?” you asked.

Catelyn smiled a wide motherly smile, “Yes, my dear. Then I also have my youngest Rickon,” she said gesturing to the small boy clung to her furs, “and my eldest, Robb,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Robb looked even more handsome up closely, a fact that made it hard not to flush red.  “Princess,” Robb bowed his head as he reached his hand out. You paused for a moment before quickly realising he was reaching for yours.

“Sorry,” you muttered, now sure you were blushing, before quickly reaching your hand out. Robb chuckled again as he took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. His lips on your skin made a shiver go up your spine. “We meet at last,” you said with an awkward smile. The warm smile that spread on his perfect lips made you internally die at how dumb his looks alone had rendered you.

You quickly moved your attention onto the next Stark, begging silently for your awkwardness to fade. You could feel Robbs eyes on you, but you didn’t yet know how your forgetfulness and sincerity had charmed him. Robb struggled in fact to keep his attention off you since your arrival.

Tommen and Bran had indeed got on well, a fact you were proud to have predicted. It surprised you slightly that Arya played more with Bran and Tommen than Sansa and Marcella, but you were just happy to watch the children get along. Joffrey was likely off tormenting or gloating while Sansa and Marcella had stayed inside to learn embroidery. Tommen and Bran practised pretend swords in the courtyard while you sat a few feet away watching on a bench.

You clapped as Tommen finally began to get a hang of the glorified stick and grinned at his dopey smile. “Who’s winning?” a thick northern accent said from behind you.

Jumping slightly, you turned to see Robb had approached you without you even realising. “I’d like to say Tommen,” you said lowly, “but that’d make me a liar,” you grinned. Robbs laugh still made your heart flutter after your first week in Winterfell. “Would you like to join me?” you asked.

“It would be my honour princess,” Robb said before joining you on the bench with a small smile.

You laughed lightly, “You don’t have to call me that,”

“I kinda do,” he chuckled.

“Well as your princess im ordering you not to,”

“Is that so?” Robb laughed at your fake seriousness, “What happens if I do? Will you poke me with a pin?”

You thought for a moment before grinning “I’ll get Tommen to duel you,”

As you said this Tommen was struggling to even swing the wooden sword he had. “You’re cruel,” his laugh warm as he watched your brother’s spar.

“The cruellest,” you grinned. “Its my reputation. Everyone at Kingslanding fears me,”

Robb couldn’t control his laughs, but you couldn’t help yourself from joining in, “No offence princess but I don’t think you could scare a fly,” you gently stomped your foot on his, “Hey!”

“I told you not to call me that,” you fake glared at him.

Robb held his hands up in fake surrender. “I take it back. Very frightening. My shoe is terrified,” the dopey smile he wore was far better than the serious face that had first greeted you. Robb looked out to where the boys practised. “I could teach him if you’d like,”

“Would you?” You asked, grabbing his arm without thinking, “Joffrey teases him horribly and it makes him not want to try. Before we left, he could hardly hold it let alone spar. He would only practise with me in private and im afraid im not a very good teacher,”

“You can use a sword?” Robb asked, eyebrow raised.

“Not very well,” you grinned, which was partly a lie. You could use one, but you were no Jamie Lannister.

Robb grinned, “Well after I teach Tommen maybe I could teach you,”

“Maybe you could,” you said with a small smile. Robb grinned before getting up and joining the boys. You bit your lip as you watched how careful he was with Tommen as he taught him how to swing the sword. For a moment you couldn’t help but imagine what Robb would be like with his own son. Your son.

You clapped as the boys sparred, laughed as they failed and succeeded, smiled the whole time. the perfect afternoon. Robb bid you farewell when you had to leave to prepare for dinner.

When you arrived at your chambers it wasn’t long until your mother arrived. “Go,” she told the maids as she snatched the hairbrush from them, “I’ll be doing her hair,” she smiled at you in the mirror, and you did your best to smile back as she began to brush it. “I hear you and the Stark boy had fun today,”

“He taught Tommen how to spar properly,” you smiled softly.

Your mother did not smile however, “We have knights for that,”

“Yes, but Tommen gets nervous,” you said, and she just hummed as she began to braid sections of your hair, “Robb was really good with him,”

“He was trying to impress you. it wont last,” she said.

You ignored the tugging and pulling off your hair. However, when your mother began to pin the braids up you spoke, “Robb likes it down,” you said.

Cerci paused for a moment before continuing her pinning, more harshly this time, “You’re a southerner. We wear it up,”

“Of course, mother,” you said unable to stop your eyes prickling.

As Cerci was almost finished your hair she spoke again “I just don’t want to see you get hurt sweet girl,”

“I wont mother. Robb has been nothing but kind,” you tried to assure her, but she just scoffed.

“For now. Trust me my sweet girl. He will hurt you and you will learn to endure it,” she said, starring off to the side, “it gets easier with time. with wine,” she chuckled as she looked at you in the mirror, “You look beautiful,” she smiled with her hands on your shoulders. You didn’t thank her.

“I don’t like wine,” you said.

She dropped her hands from your shoulders, “You will,” she said before leaving to prepare herself for the feast. You looked at yourself in the mirror and it felt like a stranger dressed as your mother stared back.

“I love your hair,” Sansa squealed as you took your seat with the Stark children and your siblings, “Will you teach me how to do mine like that?”

“I could,”

“I can’t wait to be sisters,” she squealed again. You forced the smile onto your face as you agreed with her but for the whole of dinner you could not bring yourself to look at Robb.

You noticed his looks and acknowledged his questions, but you kept moving the conversation back to another person. Robbs face grew duller as the night continued and his attempts lessened. Sansa and Marcella kept asking about the engagement celebration happening tomorrow and you did your best to seem happy however as soon as the dinner was over you excused yourself.

In your chambers you hastily took out all the pins your mother had shoved in and tried to untangle all the knots. It did little to help, however. No matter what you did your mothers words ate away at you.

With the betrothment terms scheduled, part of which included you staying in Winterfell as a ward on the lead up to the wedding, your father had insisted on an engagement celebration. A feast filled with drinking and dancing and eating and singing and noise. So much noise. From the gossip to the slurping to the giggles and music; you were drowning in a sea of noise.

You couldn’t understand how it was a celebration of you and Robb when you had only greeted each other since the festivities had started. Part of that admittedly being because of your avoidance of the Stark boy. “When I said you had to dance, I assumed you understood I meant with him also,” your mother whispered sharply in your ear before plastering on her smile again.

All you could do was nod as you drank more wine from your cup. You thought the sweet wine would sooth your stomach, but it only made your head spin more. When Robbs eyes locked with yours over the crowd you felt your stomach burbling but not with, he excitement it had before. Your gut said one thing your mother another. Who was right?

When you saw Robbs smile you couldn’t help feeling the butterflies but when he began to cross the hall, eyes on you, it was as if the butterflies had suddenly lost their wings. “I’m going for some air,” you whispered to Clegane who had been set to guard you. when he nodded and stood you shook your head, “Alone. I’ll be back before anyone notices I left,” You were glad he wasn’t much of a people’s person and did not question as you slipped out of the hall.

Once you were in the corridor you were able to let out a sigh of relief before quickly navigating the now familiar corridors to find the courtyard. You took in a deep breath of the cold Northern air before pressing forward in your journey to sit on a bench just out of sight of the windows. Despite hearing the noise of the festivities, the space made it less overwhelming at least.

The cold wind on your cheeks helping your flush from the crowded hall. You had assumed everyone had been too wrapped up in their own drinking to notice however when a hand touched your shoulder you jumped as you realised you were wrong. “Are you okay?” Robbs face was filled with worry as he stood over you.

You opened your mouth to speak but words stuck in your throat. Robb moved to sit on the bench beside you, taking your hand into his. “What’s the matter?” his thumb stroking over your knuckles.

“I don’t know what im doing,” you whispered, closing your eyes, and leaning your head back to rest on the stone wall behind the bench, “And im scared,”

“Scared of what?” Robbs eyes were filled with warmth despite the icy colour.

You sighed as you weighed up whether to tell him. “My mother has told me stories. Of marriage,” you said. Robb sighed, his eyes dropping into a sad smile, “Of how some men treat their women. Of what I should expect,”

“And your scared?” Robb asked and you nodded your head. Robb took both your hands into his with a gentle squeeze, “I don’t blame you. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be dragged halfway across Westeros for a new life. But I promise you this; I won’t let anything hurt you as long as I live. I couldn’t live with myself if I was to hurt you in anyway. Im sorry that I have frightened you princess,

“Its not you,” you sighed, sitting up properly, “Its just. I’ve heard a lot about the things. Like you know. that man and wife do,” you said, and you couldn’t help the flush on your cheeks, but Robb did not laugh or mock your nerves unlike others would, “People keep talking about the bedding ceremony,”

“We won’t have one of them,” Robb cut you off, “I respect you far too much to have some old creep in the room,” you couldn’t help but chuckle at his brashness. “We won’t do anything like that until you’re ready. I wont force myself on you,”

“My mother says you will,”

“That woman has said two words to me since she has met me. She does not know me,” Robb said. “When we are married it will be our marriage. Not hers, not my parents, ours. And we make the rules of it,”

“I’d like that,” you said, a shy smile finally returning to your face. Robb had a dopey grin on his face as you raised his hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you, Robb,”

“Anything for you princess,” you slapped his shoulder at the name, “Okay fine,” Robb laughed. “I’m sorry,” he held his hands up in fake defence.

You laughed and took a moment to enjoy the comfortable silence, “Can I ask a favour?” you broke the silence. Robb nodded and you sighed. “Could we kiss?” You said, face flushing as Robb raised his eyebrows confused, “It’s just I know we will have to eventually and- “you began to ramble, “I just don’t wanna do it for the first time in front of everyone like it’d just be nice if like maybe we had like a moment like between us and I know its dumb,”

Your rapid-fire sentence was cut short when Robb lightly grabbed your chin, “Its not dumb,” he said softly, “I think its sweet,” his hand moved to hold your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek, “And if im honest I would quite like to kiss you,” he whispered.

“I’d like to kiss you too,” you whispered back.

Slowly Robb leaned forward, his hot breath fanning your face as his warm fingertips brushed your cheek. You shuffled forward slightly, your hand moving to rest on his shoulder. His lips, grazing over yours, waiting for you to close the gap. You did.

Your lips pressed together softly, moulding together for a short but sweet kiss. It broke after a couple of seconds and for a moment you gazed into Robbs eyes which gazed back at you. his lips were chapped but had felt so soft against yours. The seconds they had touched yours had already made you addicted to the sweet taste.

Your lips crashed back onto his, more needy than before. Robb did not stop your movements, instead his hand slid back to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer to him. Your hands gripped into his shoulders as your lips moulded with his. Air no longer felt important to your lungs when you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, almost moaning when he slipped his tongue in. the sweet taste of his tongue made your head dizzy as his other hand gripped your waist.

After a few moments Robb suddenly pulled back, “We should stop,” his breath was heavy and uneven, but his lips were too far from yours.

Your hand moved behind his neck, “Not yet,” you said, pulling his lips back onto yours. Robb almost groaned into the kiss your tongue joined in, moving perfectly in sync. The kiss was hungry like with first love, and it only stopped this time when you heard Clegane call out your name. you pressed your finger against Robbs slightly swollen lips until you heard Clegane sigh and storm away. You couldn’t help but giggle.

Robb let out a soft laugh at how you were acting, “Did that help ease your nerves?” He asked.

“Very much so,” you grinned, “We should do it again sometime. Lots of times,”

Robb grinned and shook his head, “Don’t worry princess,” he said, and you rolled your eyes with a smile, “we will later,”

“Why not know?” you asked, and Robb let out an awkward laugh as he glanced down at his lap. Your eyes grew wide as you saw the bulge fighting against the fabric of his trousers, “Oh!”

“Sorry,” Robb pulled away from your grip.

You quickly took his hand, “Its okay,” you assured him, “Besides we are going to be man and wife so in a way it wouldn’t be so bad if we were to you know,” you said with a chuckle and a blush.

Robb laughed lightly as he took your hands into his, “As much as I would love to. And trust me I would,” he said squeezing your hands making you blush more, “I wont dishonour you like that,” he said, and you frowned. “We’ll have plenty of time for it once we’re married,”

You paused for a moment, “What exactly is it?” you asked, and Robb laughed, looking at the ground, “It’s just I’ve heard stories, but I don’t know if I believe them,”

“Good stories or bad?” he asked.

“A bit of both,” you confessed, “Mother said it’s like a battle, but I heard another girl talking about a kind of kiss some men give women further south and she got all giddy about it,” you said, and Robb couldn’t help his laugh, “What? Don’t make fun of me!” you protested.

“Im not it’s just,” Robb shook his head, “I just don’t know how to explain it to you without sounding like a creep or offending you,” Robb laughed as you sighed and pouted at his refusal, “Tell you what how about once we’re married, I show you how it all works?” He offered with his own flush on his cheeks.

“Fine deal. Only if it includes that thing she was talking about,” You said and Robb laughed again, “Hey! The way she was going on about it made the whole marriage thing seem far more appealing,”

“Well in that case it’ll be the first thing I show you,” Robb said, placing a kiss to the back of your hand, “and that is a promise,”

“Good,” you said, sitting triumphantly, “Well in that case I hope the weddings soon,”

Robb couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten with this betrothal as he laughed at your sudden eagerness, “Neither can I,”

Sequel kinda thing here set during the war

Game of Thrones Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy 

[thetxtdevil]

ok this might be a dumb request but ughh please bear with me bc I had this dream of it and oof it was hot ✨️😂 ok so yeonjun being lucifer, the big devil man finds out he has a soul mate, who is yn, and he like commands her to give him all of her and live with him in the underworld and during their sexy time she said yes 😅 it was spicy! But yeah I'd appreciate it in your writing style lol

This gives me Hades and Persephone vibes, love this idea.

also this has some religious themes so be aware!

--nsfw--

Yeonjun is a king, an evil barbarian that rules the hells, feeds off people’s fears of one day ending up in his kingdom being his faithful servant. Standing on a porch of his crumbling castle, he looks over the fiery fields finding the screams... boring. Yeonjun needed something, was it blood? revenge? no, it was sex! His blood curdles more than usual thinking about taking time for the devil himself. He had all the supplies and people to please him but he wanted something more.

Thats when he decides to travel up to the mortal world. Amongst the transportation, dark hues of red changes to earthy browns then Yeonjun is hit with the aching brightness of God's creation, the sun. Yeonjun's burgundy skin turns tan, his crisp hair into raven black silk, black eyes turn into softer brown ones, and his usual exposed body was covered by a black suit. It was time, time to find his soulmate.

Walking around the town he was transported to he finds humans entertaining, and weirdly crime increases since he's been there. Yeonjun laughs at the innocent people being controlled by evil something they're not used to so they end up doing a poor job of stealing a car, throwing rocks that miss, being caught in their lies. Yeonjun's attention from the dreadful sight was caught when he sees you. You were dressed in all black just like him standing in front of a church. He watches closely to your expression, it was full of disgust. Yeonjun was surprised, a beautiful angelic women like you in distaste looking at such a holy thing.

Yeonjun glides closer to you, "Disliking the view?" you chuckle at the man's question.

"Uhh yeah, is it that obvious?" you stop to look at the man and fall embarrassed, he was devilishly handsome.

"I was never one for God's good deeds and begging for them." You quirk an eyebrow at the man's comment. "I'm Yeonjun, what brings you to this sickening church?" he asks but already knows why when you shake his hand, he saw your uncle arrive in hell not too long ago.

"My family member died and well, I don't have a good background in the church"

"That makes two of us" Yeonjun's smiles warms your heart, slight flutter fills your stomach when you see a hint of his fangs from the toothy grin.

This is the girl, this is his soulmate, now how to make her to go to hell with Yeonjun, he's going to have to figure that one out in his own terms.

---

The cold air envelopes the town as the sun fades away and the night is in full bloom. After the funeral, you spent the rest of the day doing errands but sulking about not asking out the beautiful man.

You twist and turn in your bed not being able to sleep, but you must have drifted off when you lift your head to see a shadowy figure. The moon's rays in your room usually shine cool blues but right now the room was illuminating red. The color takes over your vision in a haze suddenly feeling hot. Paying no mind at the sleep paralysis demon you start to take off your clothes stopping yourself from getting overheated.

You look over at the shadow once more too comfortable with its presence, "What, are you an incubus or something?"

A dark chuckle escapes the shadow making you shiver, "Oh y/n you know exactly what to say."

Yeonjun gets closer to your area of vision, crawling on the bed to hover over you. You lost all common sense, you felt no reason to ask how he got in your house, you didn't stop his hand from caressing your naked skin, you even failed to care that he was undressed this whole time. His feature were so close to yours, admiring his seductive eyes, the curve of his cheeks, his plump lips that were so close to yours. You try to lean in for a kiss but he backs away.

"Before you can have me, you have to give me all of you and live with me in the underworld for eternity."

Conflicted, you stop for a moment, giving up your whole life for a man you just met? You weighed the pros and cons but the longer you let the devil wait the more you mind begins to fog. His hands explored your body, lightly pinching your nipples, digging into the plush flesh of your thighs, lips turning into bites against your neck. You have forgotten your place on earth, Yeonjun wasn't heaven he was lustful hell that you fully have given into.

Yeonjun relaxes your body down into your sheets kissing you passionately. You open your eyes to look at him again only to find that your weren't in your room anymore, you were in hell. Blackened cobblestone walls surround you, with arched windows that look down to a world like looked like you were inside lava.

Looking back at Yeonjun his tan skin was now red, cheek bones heightened, forehead adorned with long sharp horns. You accepted you fate with your soulmate as you wrap your hand around his big cock lining it along your wet aching hole. "For eternity." The devil smiles pushing into you, deliciously stretching you while biting deep into your collarbone as a sign of claim.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

[kimi240302]

Prologue Come back to me

A/N: Before you read this, I want you to know that my native language is different. So I am very sorry for any mistake. Nevertheless, I hope you will like my story and enjoy it.

Summary: The love story between Alec Volturi and Y/N Swan, was an unexpected one. Both didn't know what to make of each other when they found out they were soul mates. But they worked on it and created a beautiful strong love that not even Bella's hatred for the Volturi could destroy. But as in any good love story, tragedy was impossible to avoid in theirs. It came as unexpectedly as their love itself, and made the Cullens and Bella seem to win, while Alec and the Volturi were losing their light in the darkness.

A/N2.0: I know it's a bit short and also not that good, but I didn't know exactly how to start and I promise everything that comes after is better and longer

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Come back to me Masterlist

Alec Volturi x Swan!Female!reader

TW: Description of drowning and death

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

"When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to him" -Hozier

Rustling was the first thing Y/N noticed when her strength gave out and she could no longer continue to fight death.

Cold was the next thing she felt. It lay over the skin of the young girl like a coat. A coat that grew tighter and tighter until Y/N could feel the cold in her bones.

Darkness, it was surrounding her and swallowing the young girl more and more.

Her arms were stretched up above her head in a desperate attempt to get back to the surface. But her opponent was an element that she could not overcome. For what made water so dangerous was its speed. The coldness it radiated took away the strength of your muscles to fight, its darkness took away your hope, and its noise put your mind into an unsettling silence.

Y/N did not know how she got into this situation. She only knew she wanted to get back into the arms of the man she loved. She wanted everything to be the way it was just a few days ago. She wanted to get to the point in her life where she knew she would get her happy ending and not stay here. But the deeper she sank and the more water filled her lungs she knew her future was lost. With that realization, the last spark of hope left her. Y/N, who had tried to hold her breath, opened her mouth, hoping that death would deliver her faster. Because here the time seemed to come to a standstill.

She closed her eyes and instantly she saw Alec's face in front of her.

Alec Volturi the love of her life. She saw the moments, both good and bad, they had spent together that had made them the special inseparable couple they were today. She saw the Volturi who had become her family. It was like her own personal little movie was playing out before her eyes.

Y/N knew she would leave them all alone and something broke inside her, something that not even death itself could break in her. But she had no more strength to fight, not even for those she would leave behind, that had taken the water from her.

The last thing the drowning girl thought of was a silent prayer, "His voice, please don't let me forget his voice, not even in death."

[sandiavolo]

Ash Na'vi Spider AU Concepts (Pt. 1)

Warning: slight body horror, scars, healed injuries

a.k.a, a bit of a sneak preview at at what we'll be diving into very soon in the next chapter of my fanfic, As the Ash Cloud Passes Over, which is centered around Pandora's very own native human child being taken in by the Ash Na'vi at a young age🔥

THE CONSTANT WARRIOR (AND HIS SCARS)

(Drawing credit goes to @anka-partizanka-from-pandora 💙💙💙)

To commemorate the mystical ability of Anka's storytelling-through-art, I want to discuss a big upcoming topic for my story: Spider having scars whilst part of the Ash Na'vi.

To recap for some, ATACPO follows a world where a very young Spider was found and absorbed into the desolate clan of the Txepìva, the Ash Clan. Where the Tayrangi are masterful ikran riders, and the Aranahe are known for their skills in weaving, I thought to make it where the Ash Na'vi are proficient in the art of war.

At the first break of childhood, any normal Ash Na'vi trains beyond what their body allows. And even then, they will only train harder. B/c that last practice swing, or tiring spar between a clanmate could truly be the difference between life and death where they come from. With that, there will definitely be plenty of hardships along the way.

Case in point, every single person of the Txepìva carries a wound of sorts.

Whether it is the byproduct of a harsh training or a small dispute between your peers (children, teens), the ongoing war with their longtime enemy, the Metka'yina (adults), or even the mark of wounds that can foretell ones entire lifetime (more aged Na'vi), no other Na'vi Clan share as many scars as the Ash Na'vi do. But they are viewed as more. To them, scars are seen as one's abilty to fight, their abilty to struggle & protect, and testify to how they stood strong against a foe that likely went for their neck. To the Ash Na'vi, scars are more than abided, they are regarded as a testimony of inner strength.

Then comes in a young Spider, who is finally cherished for his blemished skin (even when it is tan instead of gray).

When he first drops by unannounced, Spider has unfortunately already accumulated his fair share of scars (as seen above), a key story to his growth into one of the Ash. By then, the human's self-esteem is already shot to pieces. He's used to the way those of the Omaticaya regarded his human skin with disgust. Now, he thinks he's gotten even uglier with his deformed skin. This scary Clan he's discovered, however, does not see it that way.

When the Ash Na'vi first behold the tiny human, they see a lost soul grieviously tortured by his upbringing (a once-bright spirit now a dwindling ember). They are then told his story (told with years of buried anguish and trauma) and hear how he suffered under the name of his long-dead father. How it prevented him from being one of The People. It's enough to break even the strongest of spirits entirely.

And yet, to see Spider with them now, means he not only lived through it all, but he survived. They see it as him managing to crawl out of the pit of despair he was thrown in. Like a true warrior, he fought against the shadows of his mind, and heart. To see one as young as well, have lived such a life, softens even the heart of the Ash Olo'eykte, Varang. And that just makes him a absolute shoe-in for a type of Clan that knows what its like to live through the dark side of Na'vi history.

When the Sully's first see them while on Awa'atlu though, they are blown away and aghast at the sheer sight of them. It hurts to see how their old friend has been through so much. It also puts Spider on edge, which then puts the entire clan on edge, b/c they absolutely despise it when Spider thinks he looks anything but magnificent and beautiful in his own skin.

This has been such an absolutely compelling aspect of the story to me, one I cannot wait to share. To not just write this AU, but to write it from the perspective of Spider, is absolutely baffling. But I hope you guys can enjoy what I have to offer. I'm alwasy open to any ideas/comments/thougts 💙 Ciao, y'all!

Disclaimer: The Txepìva Clan, as well as all individual Ash Na'vi, are of my own creation in this story. It is non-canon compliant to the events of Avatar: The Way of Water (2022). It is somewhat of a darker and unique twist to my fav character, Miles "Spider" Socorro, being part of his own Clan, as well as gaining a mother and siblings. Check it out on AO3!

[gayandfairycore]

Just hold me

Summary: y/n pendragon, is well protected by the knights of the round table and her big brother but when they’re ambushed in the woods and the capable princess is hurt, Gwaine comes to her rescue. But is he too late to save her?

A/n: I love my Irish husband!! gwaines one of my absolute favourites, I Also couldn’t resist making him reader’s bodyguard ahh so cute!! Princess x bodyguard trope or well Princess x knight. I swear it does end in fluff (nothings ever permanent) Also c/h/n means childhood nickname.

Warning: blood, fighting, reader stabs people, readers kinda savage, until she gets owned, angst, major character death, gwaines a little ooc, grammar mistakes.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The, cool breeze of the forest blew through your hair as the horses continued their trot through the woods neighbouring Camelot, your friends hyper aware of every sound, of every creak in the trees, that blew the leaves. They were wary of every rustling of breeze, and every old muddy footprint.

Everyone on edge since morgana turned a new leaf, and decided her siblings were her enemy and the crown was her life’s purpose, it made a heavy sadness linger in your heart. A great deal of dread that made your skin itch.

Your e/c eyes observed the surroundings, Arthur infront, Merlin beside him, you behind Merlin Gwaine next to you, and the rest of the knights littered all around you all in a protective circle, so that if your sister crawled out from the wood work and decided to attack you they would be ready. And prepared for a fight with the witch.

Out of the both of you Arthur had been taking her betrayal harder than you, he had been sulking in his room with Merlin more than usual and the loss of your father, it was a wound too fresh for the man.

From morganas betrayal, to uthers death, magic seemingly left only destruction in its wake, and Arthur’s life felt like it was falling apart. you were Arthur’s only hope.

the only one he had still on his side. still alive. If the boy was protective before he became even more protective after your sisters betrayal, so protective he assigned gwaine as your personal knight.

Smooth talking, drunk, sticks his hands in beehives, Beautiful, talented, quick witted, gwaine. You never wanted a personal guard but he was talented with a sword, and it helped he looked good in the uniform. So you weren’t too angry at your brother thinking you needed protection, you were fully capable of course you’d been sparing with Arthur since you were kids and beating him for just as long.

But no matter your skills you were defenceless against your sisters magic. everyone was.

You let out a nervous breath at the thought, the hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up your purple velvet cape obscuring your face but still you felt bare, like there were eyes on you.

Whirling your head around your eyes bore into the wooded bush a few meters away looking for any movement or any sign of life, you observed the bush with narrow eyes, paranoid.

“Are you alright Princess?” gwaine asked his horse matching your pace beside you, as he leaned to your ear, his hot breath fanning your face as he whispered. His brown eyes staring protectively at you.

“Hm? oh- yes fine…” you trailed off eyes never leaving the trees, your heart dropped to your stomach as you gripped the reigns tightly in your hands the leather straps rough against your skin as you squeezed tightly.

your twin daggers strapped to your hips, their weight giving you a sense of comfort as your brain started to catastrophize.

“You don’t look alright.” Gwaine pressed, his eyes flickering over your face protectively, You could tell he didn’t believe a thing you said. Ignoring the fluttering in your chest you couldn’t stop looking at the woods around you something felt off.

“There’s nothing there, princess.” The man reassured his voice stern but gentle, his hand placed over yours on the reigns. And his comforting hands over yours made you release your bruising grip on the reigns.

“I know, I just have…a bad feeling.” You murmur, your eyes swimming with worry a mix of familiar paranoia, and intuition.

gwaine was inclined to believe you and your bad feeling when he caught sight of a dark figure hidden behind trees.

The man had been hiding his own unsettling feeling since the moment your group ventured further into the forest, but Arthur appeared unaware of his sister, and her guards paranoia as he commanded the group, “we’ll stop here, let the horses rest.”

Arthur always had a voice that seemingly echoed even if he didn’t want it too, and by his tone of voice he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Your eyes locked with Gwaines and it appeared the man didn’t have enough energy to mask his emotions this time. Anxiety was present in his eyes. A wave of nausea washed over you.

As Arthur lead the seven of you to a small grassed area surrounded by trees a small stream only a few steps away the soft continuous flow of water hid the shakiness of your breaths as you shrugged your leg over your stallion, your leg leaving his stirrup as you hit the floor, Gwaine already circling around to you his reigns in hand as you lead your horses to the river.

“I have a bad feeling still. and I know you do too. Do not lie to me gwaine.” You pleaded to the man as you lead your horse to the stream and your hands run over your horses back as he drinks beside you. The cool breeze blowing under your cape.

“Please, Princess. I don’t want to worry you.” Gwaine eventually says his gaze lowered onto the stream at your feet.

“Please gwaine, you know nothing scares me.” You tease bumping his arm with yours but your voice betrays you it shakes as you speaks. you had lied to him you were scared. who wouldn’t be, you may have had the knights of Camelot to guard you but it would do nothing if you were caught by surprised and surrounded. Which was easier to do the longer you waited.

Gwaines gloved hand came out to hold yours in a tight grip, “nothing will happen to you princess I swear.” The dark haired man promises his dark eyes stern with promise.

Before you could reply to the man the whiz of an arrow souring past your head and shouts of your friends alert you to your fears and you whip your head up quickly looking into the trees around you, a large group of 60 men clad in dark clothes surrounded you.

Bandits working for morgana, great.

Sharing a look with Gwaine the man draws his sword and a smug smile graces his lips at the idea of a fight and you can’t help but think he looks really hot but the fight around you snaps you from your daydream and alerts you to pull your daggers from their sheaths.

And they glint dangerously in the light the shouts of your friends in your makeshift camp only a few few feet away, fades into nothingness far too focused on yourself and gwaine to worry for your friends. They had more knights than you and Gwaine did.

But by the sheer volume of bandits around, you and gwaine began to realise just how much trouble you’re really in. gravitating toward eachother you stood back to back as the leering bandits drew closer.

“Stay close Princess I’ll take majority. if they come at you, you know what to do?” Gwaine asked his sword out infront of him protectively

“Kill em?” You look up at the man with a tilt of your head a mischievous look in your eyes and the knight beside you laughs

“Yeah, kill em.” The raven haired man looks at you with a smug, slightly proud smirk on his face and he gentle elbows you to focus,

So you Hold up your daggers to protect your face an equally smug smile draws across your lips and in a blink of an eye the fight begins.

the silver sword of one man goes to come down on you and you parry it with ease holding it away from you as you slash across his chest with your other dagger, as his body leans to the side you plunge your weapon into his chest his blood staining your silver blade, and you watch in morbid curiosity as the man groans and he falls to the forest floor dead.

You don’t bat an eye at the corpse, Instead you find yourself ducking a long sword from another bandit as the whiz of arrows fly around you, you can’t see Gwaine in your periphery too busy avoiding the large man infront of you as he stalks toward you. no matter your height he seems to be giant.

“You’re going to die little dragon.” He laughs his voice like charcoal and his sword held easily in his hands

“No. I’m not.” You sneer spinning your dagger in your hand and planting your feet into the mud more as he goes to slash at your torso you leap backwards out of the way, he’s as slow as he is big but the power of his hits shake the very earth beneath your feet.

And what’s worse his powerful hits are full of accuracy, as he whirls around to hit you again and both daggers go to hold him off, the sounds of your blades grinding together hurts your ears and you grind your teeth determined to not die by this giant.

pushing his sword to the ground you surge forward planting your dagger into an artery by his leg in retaliation the giants blade comes towards you at full force his swing takes you off guard and you narrowly miss his blow that was meant to sever your head from your neck. and in doing so you don’t pay attention to the pain that lands itself in your shoulder.

The adrenaline masks any pain, but you’re angry now the smug smile of the bandit infront of you angers you so much you take your dagger in your hand and fling it into the eye of the giant Infront of you and the sharpness of your dagger embeds itself into his eye socket. His eye makes a horrid squish as blood and juices squirt. And the man drops dead beside you. Bus long sword falling beside him.

You sneer and grab your dagger from his eye and as you pull it from the socket more blood squirts, you exclaim in disgust as his blood stains your face

An angry shout from a small dirty blonde bandit fills the air as he makes quick action toward you his battle cry falling on deaf ears and you go to throw your dagger, gwaine beats you too it his sword lacerate the man’s throat and he falls dead easily.

Breathing a sigh of relief you look to the brunette knight and he nods in respect before going to fight more of the approaching bandits.

The sound of twigs breaking behind you urge you to duck and you narrowly miss a sword meant for your head instead you grab the man’s arm and fling him over you as he hits the ground with a groan, he lays underneath you as you prepare to plunge your dagger in his chest. his legs sweep yours and you too end up on your back beside the man and your weapon lays just out of reach as the man crawls ontop of you.

His hands grip your throat tightly and your eyes blow wide in panic as your claw at his hands it’s useless so your fingers vacate to his face and your fingers lodge into his eye sockets as his grip on your throat tightens

“Come on!” Your mind screams at you as blackness swims in your vision before a sword lodges through the man’s chest and drenches you in his blood Gwaine is there standing above you as he watches you cough desperate for air. His eyes filled with worry as he gives you his hand helping you to your feet as you continue to wheeze lungs screaming for air.

“Are you alright princess?!” His hands grip your biceps as he pulls you to his chest hands holding the back of your head in worry

“I’m fine, pretty boy. Thanks for saving me.” You nod at the man but your hands shake as gwaine hands you your discarded weapons the daggers bring you comfort as you look at the world around you still there are more bandits around you but it appears many have dissipated.

Whether they have retreated, or they’ve gone to cause your friends havoc you aren’t sure but you can’t find yourself to worry for your friends. You’re too busy looking into gwaines chocolate brown eyes, and you can’t help but place a kiss to gwaines cheek when you pull back from his bearded face you catch sight of an approaching man.

“DUCK!” You scream and the knight ducks just in time. You quickly bring one of your dagger to block their sword as they manoeuvre their blade back and then you both fall into a kind of deadly dance pushing further and further away from Gwaine. Your blades mash against each other and you continue to miss his slashes and jabs.

The bandit moves his sword quickly, too quick to dodge and he manages to cut off a piece of your hair and slice your cheek your blood begins to trickle down your face and in anger you jam your dagger through his leather armour and directly into the man’s heart.

His blade falls from his hold and he drops limply. His eyes glare at you the entire time his body fails him. The body collapses onto the bottom of you cape staining the purple darker with blood and you make the decision to cut the latch dropping your cloak so that nothing holds you down.

Your tunic, and pants cling to your body tightly stained with the blood of your enemies, you don’t care not about the bodies littering the forest floor, or the wetness in your boot from stepping through the stream for better ground to fight on. Not about your friends and if they’re fighting an onslaught of bandits. All you care about is not dying.

The volume of men have dipped significantly but there are still 4 or 5 of them and one man left is an archer quickly loading his bow and releasing the arrows at yourself and Gwaine, if you two were worse fighters he would’ve loaded quite a few into the pair of you marching toward the man you hold your daggers outward crimson blood drops from the tip and soaks quickly into the squishy mud ridden forest floor. The bandit quickly loads an arrow and lets it fly, you avoid his shot with ease ducking beneath it he knocks another and fires it in quick succession and you find yourself skidding against the mud it coats your pants as you miss his fire and the man is panicked now as you stand up,

And you watch his hands shake as he tries to load his bow, it’s too late, you’re on top of the man. “Please! Please your grace, Spare me. I have children! please” He whimpers beneath you and your heart aches in your chest

As your eyes rake the man’s figure you make the decision to hit him over the head with the butt of your dagger and you don’t spare the man another glance before you walk away.

Turning your back to the archer you observe the carnage, Gwaine had gotten quite a few bandits defeated in quick time, the man now intense fight with probably the best bandit here. he’s quick, and talented with a sword.

But Gwaine keeps his own, and you deem it safe enough to not watch the man anymore instead you find yourself up against the final man he’s large like the man you fought before, but this man is smart.

And his dagger drips with something other than blood, a deep blue, oozing liquid? poison. You quickly realise

And now you’re sure you never want to let this man’s weapon touch you. his stinking grey teeth peak through his lips as he sizes you up, the princess of Camelot, clearly exhausted. Clearly covered in a mix of blood and mud, and very obviously in pain. The giants sword from before had managed to rattle your teeth with his hit but you’d been so distracted it hadn’t even registered. clearly the adrenaline of your other injuries had began to wear off.

And This man is quicker then expected as he hurries to you, his sword cuts through the air like butter and he’s clearly just as skilled as the man battling against gwaine. And looking back on it they seemed to be twins.

the moment his blade comes too close for comfort you’re parrying his strike, and the grinding of blades are deafening in your ears.

the ache in your shoulder swells through you the gruesome cut oozing and it makes your strength falter you move slower the burning pain shooting through your shoulder sends you waves of more then just discomfort.

you feel bile well in your throat but you don’t falter as you slash at the bandit he avoids it with ease, every duck, every twirl, every slice, he avoids.

It’s like he’s been watching you? observing your moves? and it’s abundantly clear even with the exhaustion plaguing your muscles and the slick mud beneath you. It makes you worried.

Springing back away from the man you slash at his shoulder nicking him with the blade and watching as he cringes back in more annoyance than pain. and when his sword goes to make contact with your body you duck away from the man until eventually you find yourself behind him

just when things began to look up, just when you were finally winning.

Until The pained shout from gwaine only a few feet away causes you to lose focus and your gaze is set on the Irish man on the floor his chain mail dirty, his face covered in blood and mud, his hair a mess, and a sword held above the man. In a deadly fashion.

And your body moves before your mind and you find yourself flinging your dagger into the bandits back watching satisfied as the man falls dead over the top of gwaine, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight you completely forget that you were mid fight with a bandit yourself. A bandit with a blade coated in poison.

“Y/n!” Before you can get your bearings in order gwaines shouting Your name

And you turn just in time to see the man drive his sword in your side and you whip your head up to look at the man who just stabbed you a horrid smile on his face, as the sharp searing pain of a sword impaling you burns your insides. your warm blood trickles from the wound around the sword, and you drop your spare dagger to the floor unconsciously you seemingly have no control of your body, and your eyes shine with unshead tears. It’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your entire life like the world is spinning and your side feels like it’s on fire.

The man stand carelessly above you smiling a sickly smile as he rips his blade out of you and you don’t muffle your shout of pain, you know you’re going to die when the man brings his sword up to cut you down and your tears fall you can’t bare to look at his face your mind filling with thoughts of gwaine if you were going to die you’d die with the man you loved on your mind.

Shutting your eyes tightly you expect the killing blow, only to feel nothing? Cracking an eye open Gwaine’s sword embeds itself directly in the bandits heart, you watch as gwaine pulls his sword out quickly and rushes to your aid as he watches your knees buckle. And you don’t go to stop your knees from colliding with the mud instead your shaky hands go to hold your bleeding wound, your hand immediately stain with blood when they come into contact with the wound.

Gwaine Holds your bloody form in his arms your hands stained with your blood you feel sick to your stomach, and sweat begins to break on your forehead, you feel like you’re already losing feeling in your feet.

As Gwaines strong arms wrap around you as the knight lifts you up against him, his arms around your knees and shoulders respectively.

He moves quickly to the rest of the knights, and despite the delirius state you’re in from the lack of blood you can only heart your heart beat in your ears but everytime he runs you see a glimpse of his face and you can see he’s screaming.

Your heart constricts in your chest and you whimper in his arms “j-just hold me.”

the man looks down at you with eyes full of tears and that shine with something akin to love. But almost as quickly as the shine came its gone, replaced with fear. It makes Gwaine tighten his grip on you and scream louder

And through the blurriness of your vision you see your brothers scared face break the tree line and b-line to you, as your head lulls to the side you watch Arthur get closer to you and you feel him take you in his arms, sobs escape the young kings as he slumps to his knees you in his embrace “y/n- c/h/n, please don’t do this to me.”

Arthur mutters rocking you back and forth and you see Merlin over his shoulder, face white as a ghost. Hands tightly held over his mouth, and the last thing you see is the servant boy boss the knights around with commands about how to help you, before the darkness takes you.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

There’s a guttural ache in your bones from the fight and a dull burning from your stomach it’s accompanied with a hard pressure on your wound that makes you yell out a sickening blood curdling scream and by the feeling of multiple hands holding you down to stop the thrashing it’s abundantly clear Merlin’s trying his best to save you.

Your brothers hands are familiar as they grip your shoulders, holding you down, you’re alive, mentally you’re awake but you can’t open your eyes.

You can’t control your own twitching body, the wet feeling of your sticky blood on your side, but you can hear every little thing around you, and yet you still can’t open your eyes and there’s this horrible wheezing sound.

And you come to realise it’s your breathing…it feels like you’re breathing through sand and every breath you take fills your lungs with sand like an hour glass.

and then you feel that familiar pressure on your wound and suddenly you feel everything, every burning stabbing sensation, all over your body it burns as quickly and as hot as a wild fire and it feels like hours before you finally feel absolutely nothing again.

And you think maybe it lasts for awhile, but there’s no way to tell time. It’s funny when you can see nothing but the back of your eyelids and the world is dark and you can’t feel the muddy floor beneath your back. you can’t feel the sticks, and the dirt, and the sound of the stream, you can’t smell your brothers familiar scent, you can’t feel the wetness of your boot, or the dried blood on your body, and you can’t see gwaines face.

Or hear his comforting voice, you can’t discern anything but blankness and you half think you’ve stopped breathing. As if your very lungs don’t heave against the poison in your blood stream anymore

But you think whilst you’re trapped in darkness that Your nose bleeds, and your mouth fills with red blood and those who surround your body begin to realise how dire every second is.

Merlin is the only one who can save you. He’s the only one who can rip deaths cold hands from your body and ground you to earth. your chest doesn’t rise.

and those around you know you’re dead. And you can’t feel it yourself, like your spirit is lifting from the cage that is your body up into the sky, ripping through you and part of you is ready to go.

But Gwaine and Merlin will not allow it, Gwaine drops beside your body his hands pumping your chest to start your heart and his lips are on yours pumping oxygen into your lungs.

and it gives Merlin enough time to mutter a healing spell his eyes glow gold and its mere moments that your translucent spirit ripping from your vessel slams back into your body.

Gwaine still continues his assault on your ribs breathing air into your lungs, he ignores the metallic taste from your lips, and he pleads with every god he can that you will come back to him.

And it’s almost as if the gods deem him worthy.

And you wake up gasping for air springing up from your brothers hold your eyes snapping open your chest heaves with effort to fill your lungs and your heart beat is sluggish before beating hard and strong against your chest.

And Merlin’s hands are on your side checking your wound the gaping hole sealed, and Your wound is practically gone. The servant boy quickly bandages your side before anyone can notice but his bandages

Can’t hide the gross greeny purple tendrils that peak out from the off white plaster. Your side feels clean but the blood still sticks to your face and the pain in your side and shoulder still lingers but you can’t bring yourself to care when gwaine gently takes you from your brothers embrace and hold you so gently against him.

“Oh Princess, never do that to me again.” His calloused hands hold you against him tightly and he tries to mask their shaking.

But you don’t care pulling back from his holds Your eyes take his figure and you can’t help yourself, You smash your lips against his and his beard tickles your skin. and it takes him no time to kiss back his lips mash against yours in a feverish kiss. It’s like your lips fit together perfectly and you find yourself wishing to never let go of the knight in front of you.

His tears fall onto your skin and you don’t care, you pull him closer to your body and you don’t care when your lungs burn screaming for air.

You never want to be apart from him.

Not when you just tasted the sour nothingness of death. It doesn’t wait. It’s cold, and uncaring.

And Gwaine feels your hands shake as you pull him closer his heart physically hurts for you he’s sure you’re probably freaking out.

After you pull back from your kisses you look at the faces of your friends around you, Arthur’s blood shot eyes filled with tears stare at you with such fear, such uncertainty.

the ghostly look in his eyes as he looks at you tugs your heart strings. You realise he can’t differentiate if you’re truly here. And alive he had just seen his sister die. And be brought back.

Of course it would be a lot to process.

beside you Merlin his shaky hands and nervous smile his red hands stained with your blood, and his wet teary face that looks so scared as he looks at you with a mixture of nervousness at the use of his magic and happiness you’re alive.

And your eyes flicker to everyone around you from Leon, who you’ve known since childhood- to elyan, and Percival. who you haven’t known for such a long time but still felt their world shake when your heart stopped beating. You were their princess to see you die in front of them…it was heavy.

Your dead body would haunt them for the rest of their days,the cold desolate blue of your lips and the way your head lulled in gwaines arms.

Tears littered everyone’s eyes as your brother and Gwaine were the first to pull you into an embrace the rest of your friends quickly followed, their iron grip on you brought you so much love and peace.

A chorus of “I’m glad you’re alive” to “good to have you back” ranged from your friends before elyan was the first person to suggest moving to a safer area the unsettling feeling of the corpses scattered around you all made you uneasy, it especially made Gwaine the most uneasy, the man couldn’t stop his intrusive thoughts what if it was you they were leaving behind? What if you died and your corpse was left to decay on the muddy floor of the forest no one around to mourn you it made him feel a bit unwell.

So finally you all high tailed it out of there to a new camp well maned by your friends, a camp where absolutely no one could ambush you. Where it was safe enough for Merlin to patch up your friends injuries.

And night fell quickly the stars shone overhead the green grass served as a pillow under your head and the rocks surrounding you like a barrier from bandits.the ruins of an old castle like a comforting shield and The slight hill you all now camped on was far out of the forest of the rival kingdom where you all were ambushed, finally on safe ground.

Merlin had stayed close to you for most of the early evening to ensure you were alright. And that he didn’t seal up any left over poison.

Crickets chirped in the back ground as yourself and Merlin sat in silence staring at the fire. You turned to the boy, speaking gently “thank you, I know what you did.”

You smiled at the boy, a knowing glint in your eye and Merlin felt his heart drop as he shrugged

“It’s what anyone would have done, milady. I’m glad you’re still with us” Merlin smiled kindly he had a soft spot for the youngest pendragon she was always kind to him, and unlike her sister her perception of him didn’t change. Out of every pendragon she was probably the one Merlin trusted with his secrets the most.

You were Always clever and observant, you were definitely someone he’d protect with his life just like Arthur.

“That’s the thing though, Merlin. I was gone…I wasn’t- my heart stopped” you struggled to find the words putting your legs to your chest as you watched the flames

“I was dead. I felt my heart stop, my heart knew what was happening my- my soul? Was leaving my body and something pulled me back in. It wasn’t Gwaines kiss of life although it did help” you chuckled before you became serious again “It was you Merlin.” You spoke your voice shaky but sure of yourself as you looked the boy in his terrified eyes

“Please y/n It’s not like that.” Merlin pleaded, his hand reaching for you and his skin getting sweaty and nervous at the thought of the youngest pendragon knowing he had magic, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her on the contrary he trusted her whole heartedly but he was always nervous to let people in on his magic it tended to get them killed.

Will, His father, Lancelot… Merlin hated how his magic could save lives but in the end he’s always lose something he hoped this time things would be different.

“I know magic when I see it Merlin, don’t worry I’d never tell. You saved my life. I should have you knighted” You smiled at the boy, before bumping your shoulders together.

“Oh please don’t-“ Merlin started disgust in his voice at the idea of joining your friends as a knight laughing at Merlin’s horrified face

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But really thank you Merlin. You deserve more credit” you smiled at the boy before pushing off of the ground and making your way to Gwaine over by the ruins watching the stars through the window on the second story lost in thought

“Mind if I join you?” You called, watching as the Irish man jumped clumsily almost falling through the window.

“Not not at all, please sit” Gwaine replied shuffling over sitting beside the man you watched the stars from the window in silence for a moment

“I’m sorry” you both spoke at the same time, swallowing a laugh at the unintentional overlap

“You go” you pressed sitting up and looking at Gwaine intently

“I’m sorry, I’m the reason you died…I didn’t protect you. It was my only job and I let you get stabbed.” Gwaine shook his head the man couldn’t bare to look at you in your eyes too afraid he’d see your lifeless ones staring back in a way he was thankful your eyes shut when you died.

In a way it looked like you were sleeping, only the lack of a rise and fall of your chest showed gwaine that you weren’t just sleeping. You were dead and it was gwaines fault.

The man blamed himself, kept running through the last battle moments over and over in his head. If he didn’t shout, if he was quieter maybe everything could have been avoided, or if he listened to your funny feeling maybe you all never would have even been ambushed.

It made Gwaine start to appreciate his friends “funny feelings” something Merlin and the youngest pendragon both shared Gwaine couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head that he was the reason everything happened.

“Gwaine” you placed your hand over his, “it wasn’t your fault, I know what you’re doing. Stop blaming yourself.” Your grip on gwaines hands tightened trying to reassure him it could have happened to anyone.

“But I should have listened to you. I didn’t and you died! You fucking died!” Gwaine cries, his hands cover his mouth to mask his sob he’s striped himself of his chain mail now he’s left wearing a blue tunic and a leather bangle that clings to his muscley arm you know it’s not the right time but god does he look good.

“Gwaine.” You shout shaking his shoulders so he’ll finally look at you

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You sigh in the silver light of the moon, its only Gwaine and yourself in the ruins and you want to take full advantage of that

“Yes Princess”

[redyarns]

resist much, obey little (ch 2)

Alastor had a noose around his neck.

There was only one person who could loosen it.

---------

Temptation had never strung Lucifer along. He was an angel of Heaven no matter what anyone else said, and he had never fallen whim to any of the sins that humans were so eager to do.

And Alastor, a demon and a sinner who had fallen even further after death, was the most forbidden fruit of all.

He was the very embodiment of blasphemy.

But by God, did Lucifer want him.

----------

Lucifer's office was attached to what was once his and Lilith's bedroom. He hadn't slept in their bed since Charlie was born, and the door was locked firmly to remind him of why he hadn't gone back in the first place. 

Still, the door was a beautiful mahogany that both he and Lilith had chosen, and seeing its intricate pattern always disturbed him greatly. As a result, and also because Charlie liked to chew through furniture if he wasn't there to supervise, the office hadn't been touched for almost a year. 

Until now, anyway. 

He fumbled as he tried to find the key in his pocket and at the same time juggle Charlie, who by now was so hyper that she kept crawling all over him, her innate magic keeping her from falling off but also allowing her to stick like glue. 

Like some fucked up version of Spider-man, really, and he bit back a curse when she crawled onto his head, slipped a little, and nearly jabbed her heel right into his eye. 

“Charlie, my love, please just stay still,” Lucifer practically begged as he had one hand to his daughter and the other digging around his locket rather desperately. If he delayed any longer then surely she would blind him. “If I could - just - hold on, baby, just two seconds - “ 

“May I?” 

Lucifer's skin threatened to crawl at the crackling of a radio's poor connection, and he glared out of the corner of his eye as Alastor stood patiently behind him with his hands outstretched. 

Why, Lucifer oughta… 

“Fine,” he grumbled, and he reached up to carefully peel his sticky daughter off of his head. He winced when she tore out a good chunk of his hair, too, her grip too tight to and tangled in the strands to do otherwise, and he was sure he had a thunderstruck expression on his face as he handed her to a waiting Alastor. 

The demon seemed far too amused for Lucifer to allow, but the asshole was also holding his daughter, so there was no actual way to blast him to smithereens without her inhaling some of the dust. That was absolutely unacceptable; what if she developed an allergy?

Good God. Imagine she developed an allergy anyway? He would have to schedule her an appointment with her pediatrician right away, and maybe he could even scare an allergist into coming along, too. 

The idea of his daughter being plagued with sneezes, or hives, or - Lord help him - swelling of the throat was enough to have the ever-present anxiety to swell deeply within his stomach and up to his lungs. 

“Quack,” Lucifer muttered to himself, trying his best to calm down as he waved his hand and his magic began to grow back the small bits of hair he had lost in Charlie’s attempts to bald him. “Quack, quack.” 

“Are you feeling well, Your Majesty?” Alastor said pleasantly, but the smile on his face told Lucifer all about his silent laughter. It was unfortunate how good the little shit was with babies, as he was holding Charlie on his hip and bouncing her lightly while she squealed in delight. “You don’t look so hale.” 

“I’m fine!” Lucifer snapped. 

Actually, he was about to collapse, he still couldn’t get rid of the thought of his Charlie possibly asphyxiating on her own vomit after eating a spoon of peanut butter, and he couldn’t find the fucking key!  

In his rage, he simply blasted the door away. 

Offensive thing. How dare it stand in his way like it did! 

He coughed when the explosion immediately brought up a cloud of dust and small bits of wooden debris. He whipped his head over his shoulder, worried pale that Charlie would inhale any of it and go into a coughing fit, but she merely blinked her big eyes up at him, looking content as Alastor smartly hovered a hand an inch in front of her face and blocked anything from entering her nose. 

“Oh my,” Alastor said mildly. “That’s the second door you’ve broken today, my liege.” 

“It’s your job to fix it, then,” Lucifer grumbled, and he stomped into the office. 

Everything was covered in at least an inch of dust. The air was thick with it, little particles floating through the low starlight drifting through the windows. The curtains were drawn from the last time he was in here, and he raised an arm to his nose, coughing lightly as he glanced around the room. 

He could only vaguely remember the reason for all the mess. There were books strewn about the floor, some with pages torn, others with bindings falling apart, but all in some form of destruction. Ink had spilled and dried on the surface of the single desk in the middle, and he twitched slightly as he realized it was because a pot of black had been overturned in his grief all those months ago. 

He hated this part of the mansion. The entire Eastern Wing was useless to him, a scar in his long line of memories, and he scrubbed at his face, trying his best to ignore the tugging of his heart. 

“Your Majesty?” 

“Quiet,” Lucifer muttered, and he let out a slow breath before he looked back up and feathers began to unfurl from his back. 

He was careful as he allowed his wings to slowly rise, all six of them so large that he was sure they blocked the entire doorway, which was what he wanted. He didn’t want Charlie to witness the evidence of his falling apart, and he allowed his Grace to gather at the very tips of his flight feathers. 

With a gentle flap, a gust of wind flowed throughout the room, splitting into miniscule breezes and carrying away any dust with it. Books floated up and began to restore themselves, their covers shiny and repaired once more as they all arranged themselves neatly in the numerous shelves. 

Lamps were righted up and turned on, scattered pages were blown away, and for a moment, he hesitated when he saw the ink stain on his desk. 

That particular shade of black had been Lilith’s favorite. He had always been more partial to gold or even red ink, but she had loved black so dark that it reminded her of the night sky in Eden. 

He turned his face away, swallowed his nausea, and when he looked back, the desk was pristine and beautiful once more. 

No stain in sight. 

He breathed in shakily and slowly retracted his wings again. The feathers itched mightily under his skin and begged to be let out again, but he ignored the sensation as he turned around and made eye contact with Alastor. 

“Come in,” Lucifer said, his voice a little lackluster as he drifted inside and gestured lazily around him. “This is my office, but I rarely use it, so don’t bother coming near this wing of the house unless I say so. This place is where I keep all my contracts, so that’s why we’re here just for today.” 

For once, Alastor said nothing. There was only a small, confused twist of his lips as he slowly followed Lucifer inside. His arms never faltered around Charlie and he didn’t pause in his steps, but it was obvious how he was looking around them, almost like he was trying to drink in every single detail and memorize it. 

“Don’t dawdle,” Lucifer tsked, and he sat behind the desk with an unceremonious plop. Normally he was a stickler for posture, but the cushion of the chair was simply too comfortable, and he sagged like a bag of potatoes as he laid his cheek on his fist and watched Alastor carefully. “You’re the only one who’s reached out to me for this job.” 

“Oh, am I?” Alastor said, a blinding grin suddenly on his face again as he gracefully sat down in the chair across from him. He placed Charlie on his knee and secured her with hands around her waist as he began to bounce her, her tiny shrieks of joy making Lucifer smile despite himself. “What wonderful news for me, then! Why you don’t have a horde of demons crawling to work for you, I don’t know!” 

“Cut the sarcasm,” Lucifer grumbled. “I’m not stupid. Despite your arrogance, I’ve been here far longer than you, sinner. You don’t have the power that you have without getting into some trouble. I don’t doubt that you can protect my princess if she was ever threatened, but here’s my question for you: why.”

Alastor’s grin sharpened, and malice curled at just the edge of his words as he said, “why what, Your Majesty? Why did I choose to wear this suit today? Or perhaps why have I decided to have a delicious breakfast of doe for this morning? Or maybe even - “ 

“Why did you come to me for this job,” Lucifer interrupted. He tapped the surface of the desk, his claws lengthening with each tap. His tail began to swing slowly behind him, and he could feel his horns sprouting from the crown of his head as he glared. “Sinners like you only want one thing; power. You have enough of it to topple most, if not all, the current overlords, but I’ve never heard of you. What’s your ploy?” 

“I don’t have any ploy - “ 

“Don’t try to deceive me, boy.”  

Alastor’s smile disappeared, and his eyes became half-hooded with quiet scrutiny as Lucifer slammed his fist onto the desk so hard that the room shook minutely around them. 

“You have my daughter in your lap,” Lucifer snarled, his hair starting to curl around him with his power and his tail lashing dangerously. “You sit in my chair, in my home, in my realm. If you want this job, and if you want to stay alive, you’ll tell me what it is you really want.” 

Alastor slowly stopped bouncing Charlie. 

She whined, smacking his hands lightly and pouting when he didn’t continue, and it was only as she began to sniffle and fuss before Alastor scooped her up and held her to his chest while he bowed his head slightly. 

“My, nothing gets past you, does it, Your Majesty?” Alastor muttered, looking contemplative as he allowed Charlie to chew on the chain of his monocle without much complaint. His red eyes pierced Lucifer’s as he scoffed and smiled again. “Very well! You drive a hard bargain, my good man, so I suppose I must tell you.”

Slowly, his free hand raised and wrapped around something in the air. He tugged once, twice, and slowly, a chain link began to appear. It was a menacing black color and one end floated up and through the ceiling, disappearing from sight. 

The other end was attached to the collar wrapped around Alastor’s neck. 

“I have a noose around my neck,” Alastor said, his grin widening cruelly with each word. Despite the splitting smile on his face, his eyes were narrowed with humiliation, and anger tinged his voice as he tugged again lightly and the chain didn’t budge. “I am a mere marionette, Your Majesty.” 

“Huh,” Lucifer said, blinking slowly. 

That was definitely not what he’d been expecting. 

“You’re powerful,” Lucifer said, eyeing the overlapping chains apprehensively. Whatever contract Alastor had signed was not normal; it was far from the golden links Lucifer saw between angels and humans, or even the red ones between humans and demons. “But you can’t break it on your own.” 

“I’m afraid not.” Alastor’s grin waned. “My contractor is a - stubborn individual. I was not meant to be a dog, Your Majesty. So I offer you this; for my utmost devotion, loyalty, and protection of your daughter, I ask that you break this infernal contract.” 

“What?” Lucifer said. His wings rustled underneath his skin, and he almost squirmed in his seat, slightly uncomfortable with the stare Alastor gave him. “Me? There’s no need. The Sins or even the Goetia can - “ 

“They cannot.” 

“They can’t?” 

“No.” 

Silence. 

“HA!” Lucifer barked with laughter, throwing his head back so suddenly that Charlie squeaked in surprise while Alastor’s brows furrowed. Lucifer practically howled with laughter, his feet even kicking slightly in his belly-aching amusement, and it took several moments of him losing his composure before he finally choked out, “you want me to break your contract? Do you know what you’re asking of me, boy?” 

The sound of high-pitched white noise was getting louder with each second, and Alastor’s smile was infuriated and raw with his anger as he said, “rest assured, I am well aware. Don’t take me for a fool.” 

“But you are one!” Lucifer wheezed. He let out one last giggle and straightened in his seat, clearing his throat and placing his chin on his criss-crossed fingers, cooing as Alastor’s magic began to make his hair bristle. “You poor, unfortunate soul. This is truly your last resort, isn’t it? To not only come to me, the King of Hell, on your knees, but to even subjugate yourself to another contract.

“How are you sure I won’t make you my dog instead?” Lucifer cackled, and small flames flickered at the edges of his lips as he overpowered Alastor’s magic easily. There was no sound of a poorly tuned radio, and the air smelled strongly of apples as he leaned closer over the desk. “How do you know I won’t make you my own little puppet, instead, huh?” 

Alastor bared his teeth, pursed his lips, and said, “because of who you are.” 

“And who am I, sinner?” 

“An angel of Heaven,” Alastor said. The words almost seemed to hurt him, like Lucifer’s holiness and Grace grazed his throat raw, and he swallowed where he sat before he patted Charlie’s back and grinned. “You would never dare deceive me. You keep your word, unlike my current master.” 

The fire extinguished itself easily within Lucifer’s chest. He blew out a breath of smoke and he slumped back in his chair, clicking his tongue as he crossed his legs and a piece of paper slowly floated out from a cabinet behind him. “You’re taking a very big gamble, you know.” 

“I’m well versed in winning,” Alastor said. 

“Cheeky brat,” Lucifer muttered, and he snapped his fingers, two golden quills appearing in front of them. He pointed at the paper, where words were quickly being scribbled out on the surface, before two lines appeared on the very bottom. “Sign, then, sinner. Show me your desperation.” 

Alastor hesitated for only a split second. His claws grabbed one of the quills, and with a flourish that tinged with humiliation, he signed the line labeled for the contractee. The ink blew bright gold on the contract, and the demon’s ever-present smile transformed into a grim snarl when slowly, a golden collar clasped itself around his neck, just above the gruesome black one. 

With gentle clinks, golden chains began to link up together, connecting with his new collar and the line stopping halfway above the desk. 

“Well, then,” Lucifer said, taking the other quill and signing on the line labeled for the contractor. It shined a near blinding light among the paper, and the contract burst into sparks of stars, signifying its completion. 

He raised a hand and watched as the rest of the chain built itself, laying its end obediently into his palm, wrapping around his fingers and warm on his skin. 

He smiled at Alastor, who could merely stare back with a grimace, and Lucifer laughed. 

“Welcome to your new contract, dog.”  

It wasn’t hard to set up the mansion to welcome its new resident. Lucifer had already moved to the west wing to be closer to Charlie and avoid the east, and just that wing alone had at least a dozen bedrooms. 

“You’ll be here,” Lucifer said, holding Charlie in one arm and gesturing to a door with the other. “It’s the master suite of this part of the house. There’s a door inside that connects directly to the nursery. It’s your job to periodically check on her, and if she fusses and I can’t do it, you have to take care of her.” 

“Very well,” Alastor said. 

The demon seemed more or less accepting of his new situation, though Lucifer thought perhaps he was simply resigned. The sinner hardly seemed like the type to go around with a woe-is-me attitude, and he even wrote down notes on a yellow pad with a pen. 

Weirdo. 

“If I need to alert you of an emergency, how may I find you in this twisty abode of yours?” Alastor said, looking rather pleased, as if he hadn’t just called Lucifer’s house ugly. 

“I’ll be in the nursery,” Lucifer said with a tone that meant duh. “Where else would you expect me to be?” 

“You sleep with the princess?” Alastor said, his brows arching lightly in genuine surprise. 

“Of course I do.” 

“That is quite the decision, Your Majesty.” 

“The fu - heck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Sleeping with your child is not a good practice.” 

“What? Why!” 

“To begin, it seems like your anxiety stops you from sleeping at all due to how she most likely tosses and turns at night,” Alastor said, fixing his monocle with a twist of his fingers and smiling at Charlie when she babbled. “She is meant to do so, Your Majesty. Babies are not still creatures. Furthermore, because of your anxiety, you most likely disturb her sleep more than help her since you check her frequently for problems that are not there.” 

“Are you calling me insecure?” Lucifer cried out incredulously. 

“Not at all!” Liar. “I am simply saying that there are ways to improve both her and your sleep schedules.” 

“I do not need more sleep! I’m not a child! And she sleeps totally fine!” 

“Hmm,” Alastor hummed. He snapped his fingers and a tall mirror materialized, floating over to Lucifer and stopping just in front of him. “Perhaps it is time to reevaluate, my liege.” 

Lucifer glared at his reflection. 

His hair, normally styled and coiffed, was uncombed and greasy. He had bags so dark that it looked like he had black eyes on both sides of his face, and his shirt was covered in various stains from spit-ups. 

He frowned and then lifted the collar of his shirt to sniff, grimacing when the vague scent of baby vomit as well as old milk wafted into his nose. 

“I get it, I get it,” Lucifer growled, dismissing the mirror with a flick of his wrist. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to dispel the headache that threatened to form behind his eyes, and he said, “but you can’t just kick me out of the nursery. What if she needs me?” 

“Is that not why we made the contract, my liege?” Alastor said. He waltzed closer to the door of his room and patted the knob. “I believe it would serve you well if you slept here, instead. The door to her nursery will provide you with comfort, but it will also provide enough of a barrier to guarantee a smoother night.” 

“What?” Lucifer said dumbly. 

Maybe he was just tired, or maybe it was because Charlie was chewing on his shoulder again, but he felt like cotton had been stuffed into his brain as he squinted, tilted his head, and said, “you want me to sleep with you?” 

A pause. 

Alastor’s teeth gaped apart slightly, just enough that a hint of his tongue poked out, and he blinked once, twice, before he spoke, this time without a hint of any radio in his voice. “I… don’t believe that was my suggestion.” 

“Good God, man, I’m not saying we should have - “ Lucifer glanced down at Charlie, who was chewing on her fist, and he glared at Alastor, cupping her head to block her ears as he hissed, “marital relations. Where the Hell are you going to sleep if I’m in there?” 

“There are dozens of rooms in this wing, I am sure that I will - “ 

“I want you near me and her,” Lucifer snapped. Charlie whimpered a little at his tone and he rubbed his cheek on the top of her head, shushing her while bouncing slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer, and he murmured, “I just - I need you. Here. You’re right, okay? I can’t sleep or do anything or even breathe thinking that she might get hurt. I need you with me. I need you.” 

The last three words were uttered without much thought. He honestly hadn’t meant to say them, but they were the truth, and he was sure he looked pathetic as he tried to soothe a baby who refused to be soothed. 

“Alright.” 

“Huh?” Lucifer looked up. 

“If that is what you wish, then I will provide,” Alastor said simply. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t seem angry, either, and he merely held out his arms, a silent question in the way his fingers flexed outwards. “Our contract states many things, Your Majesty. One of them is that I will always protect you and your daughter.” 

“You don’t need to protect me,” Lucifer said, handing his daughter to the sinner and watching as he took her carefully. 

“Perhaps,” Alastor said. He rocked back and forth, Charlie almost immediately latching onto his arm and sucking a wet spot into his sleeve. A handkerchief floated into existence and dabbed the drool on the corners of her lips away. “But I am here, nonetheless.” 

“Yes,” Lucifer said. 

His hand tightened around an invisible golden chain. 

“You are.” 

[ghosttotheparty]

a mess of holy things 10 also on ao3 // prev. // next

Two essays have been turned in. A third is halfway through its final draft. There are two stacks of flashcards stacked on Steve’s desk by the window, the corners of the cards curled from how many times Steve had shuffled them.

And Steve is tired.

He’s tired in a way he’s never been before. Not just physically tired, but completely drained. He barely wants to open his eyes when his alarm clock rings, barely wants to move enough to turn it off. He can barely think, barely focus his own eyes.

But it’s Saturday, and Steve hasn’t seen Eddie in two days. So he forces himself up. Forces himself to get dressed, brush his teeth, fix his hair, barely even noticing himself do it all, like he’s in a daze.

He’s grabbing his keys from where they hang from the doorknob when his phone rings, and he stops short. Looks at it.

Somehow he knows it’s his mother.

He sees her in his head, lounging on the sofa in the hallway, holding the phone, idly flipping through a catalogue. Waiting for Steve to pick up, to ask him how his classes are, go pretend nothing happened when he was home last. To make conversation for a minute and then to say Alright.

He doesn’t pick up.

The phone is still ringing when he shuts the door behind himself. And it’s like he can still hear it ringing even as he walks down the sidewalk, as he finds an empty seat on the bus, clanging around his head like it’s haunting him.

It only stops when the door swings open, and Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s. His head falls quiet, and he wants to fall to his knees right there in the doorway.

“Hi.”

“Hey, beautiful.”

Steve cracks a smile, and he reaches up to wrap his arms around Eddie’s neck, stepping forward so Eddie can pull him inside, hugging him as Steve kisses him. Steve closes his eyes, lets his weight fall against Eddie, vaguely hears the door shut behind him. Eddie tilts his head, holds Steve’s face in his hands, kisses him harder.

Steve lets out a weak noise, and he gasps when they part.

Eddie’s thumbs brush over his cheeks. His lips brush Steve’s when he speaks.

“I got a client in my room right now, you wanna wait in the living room?”

Steve nods without opening his eyes.

“It should only take a few minutes, okay?” Eddie says softly, like he knows how desperate Steve is.

“Can I have another kiss first?” Steve asks quietly, almost whispering, and Eddie smiles, kissing him again. He licks across Steve’s lips, and Steve gasps, opening his mouth for him, fingers grasping the neckline of Eddie’s sweater. He clutches at him, clinging to him desperately, and Eddie’s hands are strong and warm as he holds Steve’s jaw and pulls away, teeth tugging at his lower lip.

“Open,” he says softly, and Steve looks at him, letting his head tilt back as his mouth falls open. Eddie is smiling, rough fingers pressing so gently into Steve’s skin, and he pauses before opening his own mouth. Steve sees his tongue flash, and he lets out a weak whine as Eddie’s spit falls to his tongue.

Eddie kisses him again as he’s swallowing, still holding his jaw, and then he whispers into his mouth.

“Gimme your jacket.”

Steve shrugs it off, lets Eddie take it, and it’s like his body is getting more and more tired with every second he spends here.

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs, reaching past Steve to hang the jacket up on a hook. “Go on and wait in the living room for me, I’ll be right there.”

Steve nods, kissing Eddie chastely one last time before he goes, toeing his shoes off and pushing them aside. He hears a man’s voice as he’s grabbing a blanket from where it’s tossed into the corner of the sofa and wrapping it around himself.

“The fuck’s taking so long?”

And Eddie’s voice, sharp but still quiet like he knows Steve can hear them.

“I was saying hi to my boyfriend, you got a fucking problem with that?”

Boyfriend.

Steve likes that. He smiles to himself as he crawls onto the sofa and lays down heavily.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Eddie lowers his voice, and Steve lets his eyes fall shut, pulling the edge of the blanket up to his face, taking a deep breath, inhaling the faint smell of cigarettes and cologne. He drifts somewhere between awake and asleep, his body heavy on the sofa even though he kind of feels like he’s floating above it, like his body is falling. The floor outside the living room creaks after a while, and he hears Eddie’s voice, hushed and muffled.

“You wake him up and I’m never selling to you again. Get outta here.”

Steve smiles into the blanket. He hears the door open and shut, hears Eddie go to his room and tidy up, hears him go to the kitchen and wash the dishes. And Steve falls asleep.

He wakes up to Eddie’s fingertips trailing over the side of his face, light and gentle. His eyes flutter open and he inhales as they focus on Eddie’s face; he’s crouched on the floor next to the sofa, almost eye-level with Steve.

“Hi,” Steve says softly, sleepily.

“Hi, baby,” Eddie says. “You sleep okay?”

Steve nods, his cheek squishing against the sofa. Eddie’s fingers tuck his hair back, brushing it out of the way gently.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly. Steve shrugs weakly.

“Tired.”

Eddie keeps touching his face, tracing a line between two moles, caressing his cheek.

“What time’d you go to bed last night?”

“…Midnight. Ish.”

Eddie lets out a breath like he’s disappointed, and Steve suddenly wants to cry.

“I have a big test coming up,” he says shakily, hand tightening on the edge of the blanket. “I was studying.”

“Studying ain’t gonna do much if you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I know,” Steve says softly.

“You’re gonna burn yourself out, Stevie.”

Steve looks away. He wants to hide his face under the blanket, but that would make it so Eddie can’t touch him. He wants Eddie to touch him.

God, he wants Eddie to touch him.

“You gotta rest,” Eddie says gently.

“I don’t know how,” Steve says, looking at him again. “No one ever taught me to rest.”

Eddie lets out another breath, but he just looks sad now.

“How do you want to rest?”

Steve shrugs.

“I don’t…” He hesitates, and he doesn’t want to make Eddie sad, but Eddie somehow silently prompts him to speak. “I don’t feel like I can rest.”

Eddie blinks, brushing his knuckles over Steve’s cheek.

“Like you’re not allowed? Or like you literally can’t?”

Steve pauses.

“…Both?”

Eddie clicks his tongue.

“Baby…”

Steve sighs and pushes himself to sit up. Eddie’s hand falls away, but he stays on the floor, looking up at Steve as he sits cross-legged, tugging the blanket so it’s wrapped around his shoulders. Eddie moves closer, shifting onto his knees and leaning so he can rest his face on Steve’s knee.

He looks up at Steve like he’s begging for something, like he’s a puppy, and he’s so adorable Steve can’t suppress a smile. He reaches out to touch him, running his fingers through his hair.

He touches his face next. Runs a fingertip down the bridge of his nose, over his piercing.

“You’re cute,” he says quietly.

Eddie blinks at him, smiling.

Steve traces his smile, runs his fingertip lightly over his lips. Eddie kisses it. He straightens his head when Steve leans down to kiss him.

Eddie smiles against his mouth, tilting his chin up to reach, and his hands are gentle when they find Steve’s knees, holding him lightly.

“I missed you,” Steve whispers into his mouth.

“‘S two days,” Eddie murmurs between kisses.

“God, I know,” Steve whines, and he knows it’s stupid that he’s so damn clingy, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind, whispering a soft Oh, baby under his breath before he kisses Steve harder.

Steve holds his face, shrugging his shoulders, furrowing his eyebrows with the desperation of it. Eddie kisses him back just as desperately, rising onto his knees before he moves even closer, moving slowly, carefully, like he’s worried about scaring Steve off as he moves up onto the sofa.

He sits next to Steve, holding his face tenderly as he sucks on his lower lip. Steve hums, his shoulders falling. He bites back after a moment, his teeth catching Eddie’s lip, and Eddie grins, fingers sliding to hold Steve’s neck.

And the way he’s gripping him feels almost possessive, like he’s never going to let Steve go. And Steve likes it.

He lets out a weak noise, and Eddie pulls away. Steve’s eyes flutter open.

“Is this okay?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve nods and reaches for his face, pulling him into another kiss.

“‘M resting,” he mumbles against his mouth. Eddie laughs, grinning, and Steve is kissing his teeth now, but he doesn’t mind. He wants to kiss anything he can, anything he can reach.

He whines when Eddie licks into his mouth, clutching at the front of Eddie’s sweater before he pushes him back. Eddie pulls away again, his mouth open as he breathes hard, lips shining, and Steve pushes him again until he falls back against the armrest of the sofa.

Eddie grins again, tugging Steve down with him.

“Alright?” he checks as Steve makes his way onto Eddie’s lap, as they get situated breathlessly, and Steve nods.

“Kiss me.”

“Gladly,” Eddie mutters, pulling him down. Steve lets him, smiling, holding his face, and he slides his fingers to Eddie’s neck. He’s warm here, and Steve can feel his pulse under his skin.

And then Steve can’t hear anything except Eddie’s breathing, except his soft hums and the wet sounds of their tongues sliding, licking, pressing. Eddie’s hands are firm as they run over Steve’s sides, squeezing and pulling.

When they part, they’re both panting, and there’s a string of spit between their mouths. Steve catches it on his tongue without thinking, and Eddie groans, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back.

“Sorry,” Steve breathes.

“The fuck are you apologizing for?” Eddie says, eyes still closed. Steve giggles, and Eddie smiles lazily.

He opens his eyes, and they’re dark and shining as he looks up at Steve. His hair is caught on the armrest, spread around his head, and he looks…

Heavenly.

Or something.

Eddie’s eyes drift. They find the cross hanging from Steve’s neck.

It’s dangling down, hanging in front of Eddie’s face, glinting in the light from the window, and Steve wants to rip it off and throw it across the room.

The air is tense as their eyes meet again, and Steve blinks his eyes as they start to sting. He wants to apologize, to move off of him and hide his face.

But Eddie just lifts his head a little bit, moving forward enough to catch the cross between his teeth. And he rests his head again, letting the cross fall into his mouth, past the line of his teeth, into the dip under his tongue.

Steve exhales, eyes tracing the gold chain that’s draping in the air, leading from his neck to Eddie’s mouth, and his whole body aches.

He leans down and kisses him.

The chain is cold where it’s pressed against Steve’s lips, but Eddie’s mouth is so warm. Eddie’s hands press more firmly against Steve’s waist, and Steve’s hands move to his neck, pressing under his jaw to find his pulse.

He pulls away after a moment. Eddie looks up at him.

Eddie opens his mouth after a moment, his tongue flashing at Steve as it dips to pick up the cross, and then he’s holding it out to Steve.

Steve looks at it. It’s shining, glistening with Eddie’s spit, resting on his tongue like a communion wafer.

Steve leans down again, kisses him open-mouthed and desperate, and Eddie lets out a small noise. Steve squeezes his eyes shut, furrowing his brows, hands pressing harder.

Eddie’s tongue slides between his lips, passing the cross into his mouth, and a moan escapes Steve. It’s warm from Eddie’s mouth, slick and clicking against Steve’s teeth as he kisses him. He pushes it back into Eddie’s mouth, smiling when Eddie’s breath catches.

Eddie’s hands tighten on Steve’s waist, squeezing him, and then he pushes himself to sit up, holding Steve in his lap. Steve whines, squeezing his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, burying his hands in his hair. Eddie shifts again, pushing Steve back, carefully, gently setting him on his back, pressing him into the sofa. The cross falls into Steve’s mouth, clattering off his teeth.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie murmurs, lifting his head to look at him blearily, and Steve likes how he says his name. He usually prefers Stevie, sweetheart, baby, but just Steve’s name is enough like this: breathless and soft and tender.

Steve lets out another whine, closing his mouth and sucking on the cross, pressing it to the roof of his mouth. Eddie lowers again and kisses him.

Though kisses him may be a generous phrasing; it’s more tongue than lips, slipping across the seam of Steve’s mouth, and Steve groans, melting into the sofa, hands grasping the fabric of Eddie’s sweater. Eddie does it again, and he’s just licking Steve now, lapping at his lips, at the corners of his mouth.

Steve’s mouth falls open.

Eddie shifts to rest his weight on his arm, and he reaches up with his other hand, hooking a finger on the chain and carefully pulling it so the cross comes out with it. Steve watches it go. It’s gleaming with his spit, and Eddie’s eyes are trained on it before he lifts it to his own mouth, sucking on it for a moment before he lets it fall back to Steve’s chest.

Steve grabs Eddie’s hair and pulls him into another kiss, and it’s messy now, desperate and starved, like they’ve been away from each other for years.

Eddie’s teeth catch on Steve’s lip, and his tongue is slick as it presses into Steve’s mouth. Steve feels like he’s floating, like Eddie’s spit is some kind of drug, and he wonders how something so good can be bad.

Eddie lifts his head enough to spit into his mouth, and Steve groans, his eyes rolling back into his head. He wraps his legs around Eddie’s hips, pulling him closer.

When Eddie pulls away, gasping for breath, Steve’s skin is slick with spit.

“Okay?” Eddie says breathlessly.

“Mm.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “…Like it when you kiss me like that.”

“Like what?” Eddie whispers. His breath cools the spit on Steve’s skin.

Steve swallows, exhaling.

“Messy.”

“Yeah?” Eddie murmurs again, leaning down to brush his nose against Steve’s. “You like it messy?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and then he gasps and exhales shakily.

“Breathe,” Eddie whispers slowly.

Steve’s eyes flutter open, and he looks up at him.

He inhales slowly, and Eddie nods.

He exhales, almost sighing, and for a brief moment, it’s the only sound in existence. The soft rush of his breath, and then silence.

“Good boy,” Eddie says softly. It’s gentle in a way no one’s ever been to Steve, like he’s small, like he needs it. Steve’s eyes sting, and he blinks.

Eddie caresses his cheek gently, tracing a line over his skin, and he seems to hesitate for a moment, eyes flickering across Steve’s face.

“…You know I’d give you anything,” he murmurs.

Steve nods.

“You wanna feel messy?” Eddie whispers.

Steve nods again.

“You remember your colors?”

“Yes.”

Eddie smiles.

And it’s like the sun is beaming down at Steve. Like the sky has opened up above him, like the clouds have parted like the Red Sea.

Steve has never felt like this. He’s never seen anything like this, anything that’s made his heart skip a beat, that’s made his stomach do a somersault. He’s never seen anything so beautiful that he feels beautiful just by looking at it.

“God,” Steve breathes.

Eddie blinks.

“What?”

Steve blinks tears back, and his throat is tight as he looks at him. At the freckles on his nose, at the warm flush of his cheeks. At the metal pierced through his skin and the shine of his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Eddie blinks again, and his lips curve into a slow smile.

“You’re the only person that’s ever said that to me.”

Steve shakes his head.

“…That makes me mad.”

Eddie laughs lightly, leaning down and kissing his cheek gently.

“You’re sweet.”

Steve gazes up at him.

Eddie’s hair is falling around them like a curtain, and the weight of his body is pressing him into the sofa, and he’s surrounding him.

“I like how you make me feel,” he says softly.

“How do I make you feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to nuzzle into his cheek again, his hair tickling Steve’s face. Steve closes his eyes.

“Good,” he breathes. “You make me feel so good.”

Eddie hums softly, pressing lazy kisses over Steve’s cheek.

“You deserve to feel good.”

Steve exhales, lifting a hand to hold the back of Eddie’s head, pushing his fingers into his hair.

A whimper escapes Steve’s throat when Eddie’s tongue brushes his cheek.

“Okay?” Eddie whispers against his skin.

Steve nods desperately. Eddie does it again, leaves a wet trail on Steve’s skin.

And he knows it’s odd. Eddie licking his cheek like this, like he’s ice cream or something.

But it feels good.

And when Eddie slips his tongue over the shell of Steve’s ear, the sound of it sends a chill down Steve’s spine. He clutches at Eddie’s hair, gasping. Eddie hums softly when he tugs at it.

Eddie kisses his cheek again, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss to him before he moves downward, his weight shifting over Steve’s body, and he kisses Steve’s jaw. Steve lifts his chin, taking a breath. Eddie’s teeth catch on his skin, and he lets out a whine.

“God, you sound so good,” Eddie whispers into his neck.

Steve hums weakly, pressing his head into the sofa, wordlessly begging for more.

“Is it okay if I leave a bruise?” Eddie asks softly.

“A bruise?” Steve repeats, his voice slurred, mumbly. Eddie hums affirmatively, pressing a slow, wet kiss to Steve’s neck, just under his ear.

“Right here.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Eddie hums, nosing at his neck.

“So polite, baby.”

Steve beams up at the ceiling, humming as Eddie kisses his neck again.

“Wanna be good for you.”

“You are,” Eddie breathes. “Always so good for me.”

─────────────────

He’s glad this lecture is scheduled for the afternoon.

Because if he had to wake up even an hour earlier than he got up today, he would have just skipped and hoped for the best.

But it starts at one, in a few minutes, and he’s got a paper cup full of coffee set next to his notebook and the sleeves of Eddie’s hoodie pull down to cover his hands, the ends gripped in tired fists.

His eyes watch his professor prepare her notes, flipping through some sheets of paper. It’s quiet in the lecture theatre, his classmates talking quietly amongst themselves, laughing and passing papers back and forth.

He’s started by a hand landing heavily on top of his head, and he looks up to find Robin dropping her bag onto the ground, holding Steve’s head like a basketball.

“Morning,” she says dryly.

“It’s not,” he says in response, watching her sit down and draw her legs to her chest. She’s wearing colorful plaid pants, one pant leg yellow and the other red, and Steve realizes after a moment that they’re covered in patches of different plaid patterns, color-matched and hand-stitched.

“Why would I care?” she asks, leaning back in her seat, her shins resting against the edge of the desk in front of them. She looks at him, her eyes covered by her overgrown bangs, and Steve’s face flushes with heat when her eyes skim down to his neck and her eyebrows raise. “Fun weekend?”

“Yep,” he chirps, looking away bashfully, and she grins. “You’re not getting details.”

Her grin turns into a grimace.

“I didn’t ask,” she says before she leans closer, looking at him intently. “But if you’re offering—”

“I’m not—”

“C’mon,” she complains. “Gimme the hot goss, Steve-o, did you guys fuck?”

He looks at her sharply, glaring, face hot, and she grins again.

“Did you want to?”

“I didn’t even answer you.”

“You don’t have to, I can read your mind. Did you want to?”

“If you can read my mind, why are you asking me any questions at all?” Steve asks dryly, looking at her.

“Haven't quite honed my skills,” she says dismissively. “Did you want to?”

“Jesus, I— I don’t know. Maybe.”

She squeals, reaching out to poke his face, and he shushes her.

“It’s not a… It’s not a thing,” he says, quieting his voice as he swats at her once more. “We just… It’s new. Kind of.”

Kind of.

The kissing is new. The licking. The spitting. The humming and murmuring and whining. The soft babys and good boys.

But the fuzzy, floaty feeling that Eddie gives Steve isn’t entirely new. He hadn’t really noticed it until recently, but every time Eddie talks to him all gently and kindly, every time he touches him like he’s bound to break, Steve feels like he melts. Like he becomes a little less human and a little more… whatever he is.

Robin pokes Steve’s side and he jumps. She’s grinning when he looks at her.

“You’re so annoying,” he says.

He looks down at where their professor was, but she’s gone. She’s always forgetting something before the lecture starts.

Steve exhales. Robin is still looking at him as though in anticipation.

“Okay,” he says finally, turning to face her, twisting his fingers together nervously. “I’ve never actually dated anyone, or had… relations.”

“God, I forgot you’re from a cult.”

“It’s not a cult.”

She waves a hand dismissively.

“Go on.”

“I… Okay. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Like…”

He gives her a look, and realization dawns on her.

“Oh. Just experiment,” she says lightly.

“Experiment.”

“Okay,” she says, turning to face him, stretching a leg out to rest it on the edge of Steve’s seat. Their faces are close, and their voices are hushed so they’re almost whispering. Steve is very glad there’s no one around them. “Is this person you’re seeing nice?”

“Very.”

“So…” She shrugs. “Talk. Say you don’t know what you’re doing and try things together. See what you like.”

“Oh, God.” He lowers his head and covers his face, and she giggles, ruffling his hair.

“Or just experiment by yourself. See what you like before you do it together.”

“By myself?” he repeats, looking up at her, cringing. She gives him a look, raising her eyebrows. “Like… masturbating?” he says quietly, weakly, his face hot, and she laughs again.

“Yes, Steve, masturbating.”

He covers his face again, and she pokes his shoulder.

“Come on,” she says, keeping her voice down. “It’s normal. People do it.” He looks up at her. “Just give yourself a little—” She whistles, making an up and down gesture with a loose fist. “And Bob’s your uncle. You know what you like.”

Steve groans weakly.

He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about it. Touching himself like that.

He thought about it last night.

He’d been working at his desk, and he’d set his hand on his neck as he leaned over his textbook. The heel of his hand pressed into the bruise Eddie gave him.

The pressure of it felt good. Not as good as when Eddie made it, when he dug his teeth into Steve’s skin and sucked hard enough that it ached. But good enough that it was distracting.

Steve’s thoughts wandered.

To Eddie’s mouth. To his teeth. His tongue.

His hands.

To the way he lifted his head when Steve whimpered to check on him. Asked him for his color, eyes shining with worry. And the way he lightened and smiled like the sun again when Steve chokes out a Green, Eddie, please—

So Steve kind of already knows something he likes.

Because obviously Eddie biting his neck had hurt. But he liked it.

God, he liked it.

So when he finally went to bed, stared up at the ceiling in the dark, he thought about it again.

He couldn’t not.

It wouldn’t leave him alone. The thought of Eddie’s teeth on him. Of the sound his tongue made against Steve’s ear. Of the weight of his body holding Steve into the sofa.

And Steve had…

Well.

His body responded.

So he took a cold shower.

Robin pokes him again and he startles. She’s grinning.

“You’re thinking about it.”

“Shut up,” he says, pushing her leg off his seat and turning away, but she just cackles. Steve hesitates, scanning the room for the professor again, but she isn’t there. “Uhm, have you…”

“Fucked?”

He huffs.

“Yeah.”

She takes a breath, finally looking away.

“I hooked up with a guy in high school, but I…” She trails off, gaze still averted. “I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

He pauses, looking at her curiously. She doesn’t say anything else, her nails flicking as she picks at the skin around her thumbnail, the same place Steve bites when he’s stressed. Her cheeks are tinted pink now.

“…Guys?” he asks softly, and she glances at him.

And then nods.

And he hates how scared she looks. Like he’d ever have a foul word to say about her.

“‘S my thing,” he says, shifting to face forward again, and a moment passes before her head turns toward him. He looks back at her, and their eyes meet.

Hers are wide, her lips parted, and then her eyebrows raise.

“His name’s Eddie,” Steve says quietly. “This hoodie’s his.”

“I knew you didn’t listen to Megadeth,” she hisses, and a laugh bursts out of him. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” Steve says shyly, turning toward her again. “He, uhm… He’s really great.”

She stares at him, and her eyes are shining more than usual, like she’s about to burst into tears.

And then she’s throwing her arms around his neck, nearly falling off her seat as she hugs him tightly, and he’s hugging her back before he even processes what’s happening. He squeezes his eyes shut, and a moment it feels like Steve’s been waiting for her all his life. Like she’s supposed to be here, in his arms, her hair tickling his face.

His arms tighten around her, and a part of him wants to pull her into his lap, but the lights dim and the professor’s voice sounds from down by the projector. They let go of each other and Robin turns her head away, her hair falling into her face as she grabs her bag and finds her notebook and a pen.

She scribbles down some notes with a shaky hand, and he wonders if anyone else knows about her. If he’s the first person she’s told.

He reaches over and holds his hand out, the back of it pressing to the cold surface of the desk, and she looks at it before she takes it, lacing their fingers. Her nails are painted red, the polish chipped and cracked. He squeezes.

─────────────────

He can’t stop thinking about it. It might not be healthy at this point.

He hasn’t done it. But he’s considered it.

But every time he’s thought about doing it, it’s like the crucifix on the shelf is glowing, burning a hole into his head like the red laser point of a sniper rifle. Like if his hand shifts even an inch toward his lap, God will take him out.

So he thinks about Eddie.

If Eddie touches himself. What he looks like when he does it. What he sounds like.

Steve likes how he sounds when they kiss. The soft hums and breathy murmurs he gives Steve like they’re gifts, carefully wrapped with a ribbon, tied with a bow. And he likes how Eddie touches him. Gently, tenderly. Like he’s tracing Steve’s veins from over his skin.

And Steve kind of longs for it. For Eddie’s touch.

He wants him to touch him everywhere. To cover Steve's skin with his fingerprints, his palm prints, to wipe away every inkling of fear Steve’s ever felt. To cleanse him. To make him brand new, born again.

It kind of feels like what’s what he’s doing every time he touches Steve. Even like this, just brushing his fingertips over the back of Steve’s hand, absentmindedly, like touching Steve is second nature.

They’re watching a movie. But Steve is distracted.

He watches Eddie’s hand touching his, looks at his trimmed nails that are covered with chipped black polish. (His ring fingernail is completely bare.) He looks at the way the lines of his tattoos have blurred a little bit. At the veins that stand out on his hand.

Steve spreads his hand open and lets their fingers lace. Eddie squeezes gently.

Steve looks at the side of his face. His expression is light, his eyes shining, reflecting the shifting lights of the movie and the golden light of the lamps.

Eddie lifts Steve’s hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to the back of it before he loses it and rubs his thumb across it like he’s rubbing the kiss into his skin.

And Steve gazes at him. He feels settled here, like his body is heavy, falling into the sofa, into Eddie. Safe.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“…Can I ask you a question?”

Eddie squeezes his hand.

“Yeah, ‘course. What is it?”

Steve hesitates, watching the way Eddie’s eyelashes flutter when he blinks.

“Do you… Do you touch yourself?”

His voice is soft, nervous, and Eddie smiles at the television for a moment before he rolls his head along the back of the sofa, looking at Steve with shining eyes.

“Sometimes, yeah.”

Steve looks away, at their hands. He fidgets with Eddie’s fingers, squeezing.

“How?”

Eddie squeezes back like he’s reassuring him.

“My hand usually. Occasionally I’ll use a toy but my hand usually suffices.”

Steve’s mind reels at the idea of a toy, spinning as it tries to imagine what it could look like, what it could do—

“Can I see?” he asks quietly.

He finally lifts his eyes, looking at Eddie, who’s gazing back at him, amused, smiling.

“You wanna see me jack off?”

Steve’s face flushes with heat as he realizes what he just said, what he just asked for, and it’s so weird, why would he say that—

“If— You don’t have to,” he stammers out, shifting where he’s leaning against Eddie, and Eddie’s fingers tighten on his so he can’t move away. “It’s weird, I—”

“Hey,” Eddie says gently.

He pulls at Steve’s hand, and Steve looks at him. Eddie’s eyes are dark, and his tongue teases the corner of his mouth for a moment as he looks at Steve, scanning his face.

“You remember your colors?”

Steve nods. Eddie’s lips quirk into a smile.

“You can change your mind,” he says softly. “Whenever. You tell me to stop and I will.”

“You too,” Steve says, shifting closer. “You don’t— You don’t have to.”

Eddie looks at him, smiling.

“You’re sweet,” he says.

“‘S bare minimum shit, Eddie.”

Eddie’s smile spreads, and he leans in to kiss Steve, nipping at his bottom lip.

“Alright?” he asks when they part. Steve nods.

Their hands detach, and Steve shifts to face him more, some space between them to watch as Eddie reaches down to his lap and rubs himself over his sweatpants. Steve swallows.

“What do you think about?” he asks quietly. The movie is still on, but neither of them are paying attention to it.

“Lately? You.”

Steve blinks.

“Really?”

“Jesus. Yeah.”

Steve thinks about it.

Eddie touching himself, thinking about Steve. Laying in his bed, his hand pressing over his crotch like he’s doing now, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

“What do you think about?” Steve asks, eyes trained on Eddie’s hand, rubbing over his sweatpants. He’s grown under the fabric, tenting it, and Steve kind of wants to touch him.

Eddie looks at him, hesitating.

“Tell me,” Steve whispers, shifting forward a little bit. “I— I’ll tell you if I don’t like it, I just… I wanna know.”

Eddie’s head falls to the back of the sofa, hissing out an exhale, and he slides his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants. The hem of his shirt slides up, and Steve can see the edge of a tattoo on his stomach.

“Fuck,” Eddie says softly. “Just…”

“Tell me,” Steve whispers again.

“Think about…” His hand shifts under his pants, moving up and down, and he winces, gritting his teeth, his brows furrowing. “Shit. How fucking pretty you are.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie hums breathily, nodding, his hand moving again. Steve watches.

“What else?” he whispers.

Eddie is quiet for a moment, and Steve hears a soft, wet noise that makes his mouth water. His eyes follow the movement of Eddie’s hand under the fabric of his sweatpants.

“How fucking good you look under me.”

Steve’s cheeks are warm. He shifts closer and lifts a hand to trace a line over the side of Eddie’s neck.

“Feel good under you,” he says softly. Eddie groans, his hips shifting, pushing up into his hand, and he bites his lower lip. “Tell me more.”

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and they’re glassy when they look at Steve. He looks like he’s going to cry, like he’s desperate, like he’s begging Steve for something he can’t say. And Steve wants to give it to him.

“Your body,” Eddie says quietly.

Something floods Steve’s veins, rushing through his body.

“What about my body?”

“Shit, Steve.”

“Please,” Steve says weakly, so close his chest brushes Eddie’s shoulder with every inhale. “I wanna know.”

Eddie looks at the ceiling as though praying for strength, and Steve smiles, gazing at the flush of his cheek.

“Your ass is fucking perfect,” he says, his voice wavering. Steve’s face lights up. Eddie scoffs.

“What else?”

“Your arms.”

Steve giggles, hiding his face in Eddie’s shoulder, tucked against his side. Eddie laughs lightly, shaking his head.

“My arms?” Steve says, still giggling, smiling brightly.

“So fucking hot, Steve.” They’re laughing, and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He lets out a soft moan, still grinning. “And your hands, fuck…”

“Really?” Steve laughs.

“God, yeah, you’re so…”

“What else?” Steve asks, setting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him. Eddie is smiling absently. The wet sounds come faster, and Steve bites his lip, humming.

“The pretty noises you make when you feel good.”

“You like how I sound?” Steve asks softly, almost whispering. Eddie nods, furrowing his brows, his jaw clenching.

And Steve doesn’t know why, but it hits him hard. Eddie liking how he sounds, Eddie wanting to hear him.

No one’s ever wanted to hear Steve. He’s always been told to lower his voice, to keep quiet, to shut up.

Steve’s chest aches.

He lifts a hand and takes Eddie’s chin, turning his head toward him before he leans in and kisses him. Eddie lets out a surprised hum, his lips parted.

Steve kisses him desperately, holding his face, sucking at his lower lip, and Eddie hums again, turning toward him, grinning against his mouth when Steve lets out a groan. Steve’s whole body feels hot.

He opens his mouth. Lets Eddie lick his tongue.

And he moans softly, low in his throat.

Eddie hisses, pulling back, furrowing his brows again, eyes squeezed shut.

“Shit,” he says sharply. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—”

He breathes heavily, and Steve looks at where his hand has stopped moving, holding himself tightly. There’s a damp spot on his sweatpants.

“Can I see?”

The words escape him before he can even think properly, and Eddie smiles loosely, lazily, kissing him again. He looks away, still close to Steve as he reaches down, pushing the waistband of his sweatpants down, bringing his boxers with them.

The skin of his hips and thighs is pale, milky white, dusted with dark hair, and Steve is mesmerized by it. There’s a tattoo on his upper thigh, the ink greyish-blue and faded, of an open safety pin. It’s small.

Steve’s eyes trail over his skin, tracing the soft blue veins that are visible beneath his skin, over the lettered stabbed into his skin, over the burning church. Until he finds where Eddie’s hand is wrapped around himself, fist loose as he shifts the skin up and down. The tip is flushed, and Steve’s favorite color might be red now.

He realizes he’s staring, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He’s touching himself idly, stroking and pushing like he’s performing for Steve.

Who kind of wants to touch him. To feel the heat of his skin, the sticky wetness, the soft thatch of curls.

“Fuck,” Steve mutters.

His eyes jump to Eddie’s face, and Eddie is already looking back at him, eyes wide, a smile teasing his lips.

“Say it again,” he says softly.

Steve’s eyes fall to his mouth. His lips are shining, his bottom lip reddened from his teeth tugging at it.

“Fuck.”

Eddie grins, fingers touching Steve’s chin to pull him into a kiss, rewarding him sweetly for saying something so filthy.

Steve lets him lick his mouth open, reaching to hold his wrist in his hands, and he hums softly. His eyes are closed as their tongues slide, and he hears Eddie’s hand speed up again, smiling.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses into his mouth, his hand holding the side of his face. He’s breathing hard again, his forehead pressed to Steve’s, and Steve wants to take every breath straight from his lungs.

“God, Eddie.”

Eddie looks at him blearily, and Steve kisses him before he can have any doubts.

“Don’t stop,” he murmurs.

“Fuck.”

They look at each other. Eddie’s cheeks are red and his lips are parted as he breathes and his eyes are shining, and the movements of his hand jostles him enough that the thin ends of his hair sways a little bit.

And then he stops. Groans. Drops his head. Shudders.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

He lifts his head, panting, and then he’s releasing himself, lifting his hand between them.

“Spit in my palm,” he says breathlessly.

Steve looks at his hand. His palm is slick, shining, and Steve can’t help but reach to hold his wrist, pulling his hand closer so he can slide his tongue over it.

It’s a little salty, but he likes it.

He looks up at Eddie, head still lowered, and he feels oddly beautiful under his gaze; he’s looking at him like he’s in awe, like Steve is beautiful or something.

Steve holds his gaze as he gathers spit in his mouth, and then he lets it drop, watching Eddie watch him.

He releases his wrist, and Eddie pulls him into another kiss, sucking at his lip. Steve sighs, reaching to hold his face, and as he pushes his tongue into Eddie’s mouth, he wonders if he can taste himself. It makes his face flush with heat.

“Thank you, baby,” Eddie mumbles against his mouth. “Such a good boy.”

Steve whines, kissing him again.

Eddie hisses out a breath again, and the wet sounds resume, somehow louder than the movie that they’ve both forgotten about. Steve pulls away to watch, breathless, and Eddie takes the opportunity to kiss his cheek and then down his jaw and his neck. Steve lets him, tilting his head, letting out a soft noise when Eddie’s teeth tease his skin, watching Eddie’s hand move, watching him twist his wrist just right, sliding his skin back and forth.

“Does it feel good?” Steve asks, his voice rough. Eddie moans into his neck, nodding.

“Fuck, yeah,” Eddie chokes. “Feels so fucking good.”

His lips brush Steve’s neck as he speaks, and Steve hums, burying a hand in his hair, tugging lightly.

“I’m gonna fucking come, Stevie,” Eddie says against his skin. “I’m gonna come, I—”

“‘S okay,” Steve says breathlessly, whimpering when Eddie’s teeth close on his neck, biting as he grunts, his hips pushing up into his hand.

“Fuck—”

Eddie lets out a whine, breathing hard, and Steve feels like he’s fucking hypnotized, watching as Eddie comes, as it spills over his fingers, drips over his knuckles. Eddie lets out a choked off moan, his body shaking, and the air fills with the sound of his hand moving, his come slicking his way even more, until he finally slows to a stop with a shaky exhale against Steve’s neck.

“Fucking hell,” he grumbles into Steve’s neck, his hand falling away. Steve grins, running a hand over the back of his head, combing through his hair. The room falls quiet except the dialogue from the movie they were watching, but it sounds sort of muffled now, like Steve is underwater.

“You okay?” Steve says softly. Eddie hums. He’s still breathing hard, and Steve watches his stomach rise and fall, eyeing the end of the tattoo, wondering what it is.

“You?” Eddie asks roughly. Steve scoffs.

“I’m great.”

Eddie finally lifts his head, looking at Steve like he has to make sure, and Steve kisses him before he can say anything. Eddie’s come-covered hand lifts into the air like he doesn’t know what to do with it, like he’s surrendering, and Steve’s chest feels warm at the notion that Eddie doesn’t want to get him dirty. (He would let him.)

Steve licks into his mouth, moving closer, shifting onto his knees, and Eddie hums, tilting his head back to meet him.

“You’re so hot,” Steve murmurs into his mouth, and Eddie beams, squeezing his eyes shut. Steve kisses his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Mm. Yeah. Fuck.”

“God, I love it when you say that.”

Steve giggles, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him again. Eddie lets go of him long enough to tuck himself back into his sweatpants, and then he pulls him closer with his clean hand, his dirty one still hovering in the air.

And Steve realizes he’s hard.

He doesn’t stop kissing Eddie. He tugs his hair a little bit, draws the curls into a fist and pulls, listens to the way Eddie moans softly. He lowers back down so Eddie’s head isn’t tilted back, and he holds Eddie’s face in his hands, cradles it, hums at the way Eddie’s hand finds his neck and holds it the way Steve apparently loves, with his palm to his throat, fingers wrapped around it.

“What do you want?” Eddie murmurs when they part to breathe (because unfortunately they both still need that; Steve wishes he could hold his breath longer, for hours on end, just so he could kiss Eddie endlessly).

Steve kisses him again as he thinks.

Because he wants a lot. He wants this. He wants Eddie.

He wants Eddie to touch him the way he’s thought about. All over, gently and tenderly and reverently, wiping away his sins and his fears. He wants to make Eddie moan again. He wants to come.

But the thought of it makes his stomach flip unpleasantly.

And he knows Eddie would give him anything.

“Just this,” he breathes, his lips brushing Eddie’s. “Just this for now.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, already kissing him again.

They’re there for a while before Eddie finally pulls away and says, “I need to wash my hands,” having forgotten about the come on his skin, tacky and unpleasant now. And Steve giggles brightly, peppering kisses across his face before he finally lets him go. Eddie goes to his bedroom and then the bathroom, carrying a pair o f fresh boxers.

Steve goes to the bedroom and lays down, looking up at the ceiling, listening to the tap running in the bathroom. He rolls onto his front, sighing, closing his eyes, tired like he’s the one that orgasmed.

He doesn’t open his eyes when Eddie comes back, listening to his footsteps across the floorboard, listening to the floor creak under him, and he smiles against the pillow he’s laying on when Eddie says, “Remember what I said about your ass?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re giving me a great view right now.”

A laugh bursts out of Steve, and Eddie joins him on the bed, climbing on top of him and laying on his back.

“I’m sure you’re appreciating it.”

“Oh, I certainly am.” Eddie shifts to set his chin on Steve’s shoulder, softening his voice so he isn’t too loud in his ear. “That ass is a miracle, baby.”

Steve giggles again, and he hums, tilting his head, when Eddie tucks his face into his neck and kisses him. He knows Eddie is leaving a bruise on him again, and he thinks maybe Eddie likes to do that.

Leaving his mark on him.

Steve likes it too.

He drifts off in Eddie’s arms, his back to Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s heart beating against his spine. And Steve thinks he might be falling in love with the way Eddie’s heart beats. He can also feel it between his fingers when Eddie holds his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently as his breathing slows and becomes heavier. The pulse on Steve’s hand is steady, small and gentle against the thin skin between his fingers.

It kind of feels like Steve is holding Eddie’s heart in his hand, and as his mind darkens, as his body feels a little like it’s floating and spinning, in some odd, fluid space between wake and sleep, he kind of wishes that he could hold it in his hands. That he could cradle it against his own chest, that he could press it to his own until their veins and arteries twine together like vines, inseparable. Until their shades of red are the same, until Steve can’t tell his own pulse from Eddie’s.

His hand tightens on Eddie’s like he’s squeezing his heart gently, and Eddie sleepily pulls him back against himself more firmly.

─────────────────

He can’t stop thinking about it. Again.

Eddie takes up a fair amount of real estate in his mind.

Steve finds himself getting distracted while he’s working on homework, on essays, while he’s getting ready for bed, while he’s walking to the bus, to class. Even when it’s been less than twelve hours since he’s last seen him, he misses him.

But along with Eddie, Steve also can’t stop thinking about what Robin told him.

It’s normal. People do it.

It makes his face hot to think about. The way Robin poked at him, the way she teased him. She’d called it his homework after their lecture, and he’d wanted to push her pencil bag into her mouth to shut her up. As they said goodbye, walking down the hallway in opposite directions, Robin made the up and down gesture again, winking exaggeratedly, and Steve’s face turned red as he rolled his eyes in a begrudgingly fond way.

He does his best to not think about it (it being Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s voice, Eddie’s dick) while he works (and while he’s in public, lest his body respond again), but his efforts are largely for nought. It’s all still there. Sitting in his head. Taunting him.

It’s worse at night. When there’s nothing to distract him, when he’s surrounded by the dark and the sound of his own breathing, as he wishes he could be listening to Eddie’s breathing instead.

He’s been trying to fall asleep for at least an hour now, staring up at the ceiling and waiting. But sleep doesn’t come to him.

It’s been like this for a while, usually on nights he spends by himself instead of with Eddie. He doesn’t even feel particularly tired. He feels like it should be mid-day, like the sun should be shining through his window as he just sits here, looking up.

He sits up against the wall, sighing heavily as he flicks the light on.

He supposes he could read, even though it usually gives him a headache. Maybe it’ll bore him enough that he’ll fall asleep.

But he doesn’t feel like reading.

He feels like kissing Eddie.

He always feels like kissing Eddie lately.

Kissing him. Touching him. Listening to him.

Steve huffs, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. His hand itches to reach for his lap, but something holds it back, like his wrist is pinned to his side. He swallows, blinking as his eyes get used to the dark, to the dim light from outside.

He thinks about how Eddie did it, sitting next to Steve on the sofa, how he groped himself over his sweatpants like it was the easiest thing in the world, like it was normal. How he exhaled, how his eyes fluttered, how his voice became breathier as he talked to Steve.

Steve bites his lip, closing his eyes again, listening to Eddie in his head. Hearing his soft Fuck.

Such a good boy.

Steve furrows his eyebrows, his hips shifting, his hands clenching into tight fists. He fucking loves when Eddie says stuff like that.

He wants to be good for Eddie. Wants to be his good boy.

He holds back a weak noise as he slides down the wall, squeezing his eyes shut, and he finally tears his hand away from where it’s pressed to his leg, reaching for his lap and touching himself.

It feels good.

He exhales sharply. Presses his lips together and bites down. Somehow hears Eddie’s voice say That’s it, baby, there you go.

“Fuck,” Steve gasps, his hand tightening again, shifting, pulling, squeezing. He wants to call Eddie, to listen to his voice and let him know. To hear his gentle encouragement, his soft praises, to be good for him. But Eddie is working at the Hideout tonight.

Steve whines, his back arching, his head pressing to the wall. He’s already breathing hard, panting, his other hand gripping his blanket tightly.

He pauses for a moment, pulling his hand away, blinking his eyes open in the dark again. His eyes adjust, and after a few moments he can see himself in the dark, straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. He stares for a moment before closing his eyes again, taking a breath.

He slides his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants. His head falls forward when he feels the heat of himself against his hand, his skin hot to the touch like his blood is boiling. He copies what Eddie did, sliding his hand up and down slowly, hesitantly, his mouth falling open as he holds back another noise.

He buries his face in the crook of his other arm, squeezing his eyes shut, whining again.

And he really wishes Eddie was here, talking him through it all. Telling him what to do, whispering in his ear. Telling him how good he’s being.

Steve hisses as his hand chafes against him, wincing, and he withdraws his hand, pausing to catch his breath, hesitating before he lifts his hand to his mouth and spits in his palm. It’s gross, but he whines pathetically as he reaches down again.

It feels better.

“Oh, God.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, stifling a groan in his arm.

Eddie’s voice echoes in his head, murmuring softly.

Such a good boy.

There you go, sweetheart.

Steve’s muscles somehow tighten even as he melts against the wall, moaning softly.

He wants Eddie to touch him.

He really wants Eddie to touch him.

His head falls forward as he imagines it, as he thinks about Eddie’s hand touching him like this, leaning close to murmur in his ear. Kissing his jaw, his hand warm, his rings becoming slick—

“Eddie—” Steve chokes, leaning forward with a groan, and he bites his lip to silence himself, realising with a flush of heat that he doesn’t know how thick the walls here are.

You deserve to feel good.

Steve exhales roughly, letting his head fall back against the wall, his other arm tight around himself as his hand shifts again. His back arches as he gasps, his fingers tightening, and he lets out a moan that doesn’t even sound like him, high-pitched and whiny. He almost sounds like a girl.

He claps a hand over his mouth, breathing hard, and his face flushes with heat again when he realizes he’s fucking drooling, his chin wet. And it just makes him think about the way Eddie’s tongue feels against his skin, and then he’s thinking about Eddie licking his spit away, hungrily, desperately, and Steve feels like he’s losing his mind.

He’s crying.

But it doesn't feel like it usually does when he cries, when he feels small and helpless and pathetic, when he’s scared and miserable.

He feels so fucking good.

He lets out a quiet, stifled sob, and he wants Eddie, he wants Eddie, he wants—

“Eddie, fuck, please—”

He cries into his arm, his hand moving rapidly now, desperately, and he knows there’s no one to beg right now, but he wants to. He wants to fall to his knees and plead for it, tears in his eyes, to beg to come.

It’s so good.

Until it’s suddenly less good. Overwhelming. Too much.

Steve jerks his hand away, letting out a whimper into his palm, and then he’s gasping for breath, crying.

Bad crying, this time.

He’s trembling, and he wraps his arms around himself, squeezing, shutting his eyes tightly as he tries to catch his breath. He buries his face in his arms as he curls up into a ball, like he’s trying to hide from the dark, from the moonlight, from the crucifix on his shelf.

And he stays there when he finally stops crying, when he wipes his tears away on his sleeves, as he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the cloud that covers his body. Every inch of him feels filthy, but it doesn’t feel good the way Eddie makes it feel. He feels like he has to scrub his skin clean, like he needs to scrub it until he’s bleeding, until he can’t even remember what he did wrong.

His lip trembles as he tries to fall asleep, as he tries to pretend it never happened, as he pushes away to feeling that he needs to pray, to repent, to confess. He feels sick.

He wants Eddie to make it go away. To make it all go away.

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

[ficsofabotchedmind]

A day in the life: Larissa’s personal hell

This is an “I think I’m in hell” one-shot. 😁

I think I’m in hell 1 2 3 4

Summary, eheheheheh…no ☺️

Warnings, some: Rabbits blood, talks of knives, torture, poor Larissa is in for it but so is Wednesday, mother daughter dynamics between both Larissa & Wednesday AND Enid & Larissa AND Wednesday & Morticia.

———————————————————————————

Larissa started her day like any other, she woke up and lay in bed for a few minutes contemplating humanity and how utterly fucked it was, she got up and had a good stretch, padded into her kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, fixed breakfast, ate said breakfast and drank said coffee, and went to shower and dress. 

Once finished Larissa would exit the apartment that was off to the side of her office and that is where normalcy ended. As Larissa opened the door the next thing she knew, something that was warm, wet, and smelled like copper fell on top of her.  

Larissa couldn’t even scream; she was absolutely paralyzed. Looking down, Larissa saw red. Not metaphorical red, but literal red. She also saw the remains of a balloon, a white balloon.  

Raising her arm and inhaling, she knew exactly what it was. Blood, someone had filled a white balloon full of blood, snuck into her office, and rigged a mechanism to trigger so as soon as she opened the door, splat. 

No, not just someone, Wednesday Friday Addams. Once Larissa got her hands on that child, there will be hell to pay, but in this moment all Larissa could think was, “Fuck me, this is going to be impossible to get out! The whole bloody dress is ruined!” 

So, in that moment, Larissa decided to make a statement. She exited her office and made her way to Ophelia Hall, all the way there her stilettos made a splat sound as they hit the floor. 

Enid could hear the noise all the way from the room she shared with Wednesday, along with a sharp heel connecting with the floor as harsh and angry steps were taken. All poor Enid could think was, “What did Wednesday do now?” And with that, she let a whine. 

Larissa, trekking down the hall and nearing the dorm, met Morticia. Morticia gaped at the tall, blonde, and furious goddess in front of her. Morticia was not thinking pure thoughts at all, her eyes roaming Larissa’s blood-soaked form, tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip.  

Biting her lip and smirking, she peered at Larissa through her lashes in obvious arousal, “My, my, my, don’t you look ravishing.” 

Larissa, torn between snorting at the raven-haired beauty’s obvious arousal and fuming over the fact a fucking expensive dress was now trash, hummed. 

“Morticia,” Larissa spoke, “I love you and I would do anything for you and to you, but not now. I’m off to kill that spawn of yours.” 

Morticia couldn’t help but let out an undignified snort, but she quickly composed herself and had the decency to look sheepish. 

“My darling Sequoia, there are better ways to get under Wednesdays skin.” Morticia said through a soft smile. 

“Oh?” questioned Larissa.

“Issa, I give you full permission to punish Wednesday, as a parental figure, any way you see fit.” Morticia saw the smirk crawling its way up the blood soaked-beauty’s face. 

Larissa, feeling her lips curl up into a grinch like smirk, said, “You’re giving me permission to use parental figure status with Wednesday? I can punish her? Ground her? Ultimately, what you’re saying is, I’m another mother for Wednesday and have full access to all parts of the role? And as much as the spawn irritates me sometimes, I wouldn’t harm a hair on her head and I would protect her with my life, again.” 

“Yes, all of that. You have my full permission to treat her as your own, when giving trouble and when in need of protection." Morticia said with a soft smile.

Larissa's face turned soft, she gently stepped forward and gave Morticia a dizzying kiss before saying, "Good, now after I'm done, I will call you all to my office but first, I want to make Wednesday skeptical." 

All Morticia could do was let a dreamy smile drift across her face, lick her lips, and nod. 

With that, Larissa trailed down the hall with a firm smirk etched onto her face and once arrived at the door, she dropped the smirk and knocked, “Girls, may I come in?” 

Wednesday, still not looking up from her typewriter, smirked, “Of course.” 

The door opened and in stepped Larissa Weems covered from head to toe, in what smelled like to Enid, rabbit blood. 

“I would greatly appreciate it if the both of you would come to my office in an hour,” looking towards Enid, “and before you panic my little ray of sunshine, you are not in trouble.” With that, Larissa left with a soft close of the door.

All Wednesday could think was, "Oh fuck." 

*An hour later* 

Larissa sat smiling at her desk while the two girls sat across from her, "Do you know why I called you in here, girls?" 

Enid, while side-eying her girlfriend, said, "Yes, I think I do." 

Larissa smiled and looked towards Morticia, "Morticia, would you be so kind as to tell Wednesday what you said to me? And Enid, I want you to witness this.”

Larissa turned back to the girls, looked directly at Wednesday and smirked as Morticia spoke.  

After a few minutes of explanation, Wednesday's jaw hung open. This is one of the only times Morticia has seen her daughter like this, she knew what was about to happen and it wouldn't be good, so she said a silent prayer for her girlfriend. 

Wednesday collected herself and situated her glare on Weems, "What have you done? What have you DONE? Mother, what is the meaning of this? Is this some kind of cruel joke?" 

Morticia sighed while Larissa did nothing to help, all she could do was sit there smirking.  

Morticia carefully approached her-their daughter and spoke, "Wednesday, Larissa is now a permanent part of our lives so you will have to get used to Larissa having a say in your life, and that includes taking on the role of another parental figure." 

Wednesday's eyes darted between the two women; she was so angry you could practically see steam coming from her ears. 

Larissa dropped her smirk, she could see that Wednesday was becoming more strung by the second, "Wednesday, while I admit I take great pleasure in this, it's for two reasons. #1: I can keep you safe and #2: It means that I can make sure you know what you did was wrong and punish you accordingly. I will not abuse this...too much but I will make sure you know that I love you as if you were my flesh and blood." 

Wednesday took a minute to process what was said and then spoke, "Who's to say I'm not of your flesh and blood? Mother is so in love with you she could have had Grandmama do a spell because even I admit, I am much like you." 

Larissa knew this was an olive branch and took it, she chuckled and said, "I wouldn't put it past your mother." 

At that Morticia gave both, a smirking Wednesday, a chuckling Larissa, and a giggling Enid, a look. 

Enid deflated at the release of tension and her claws, once again, were sheathed, "I am not going to lie, I thought this would end in disaster. Oh! Mom, is that why we were called in?" 

Larissa smirked once again, "Partly but I also want to dish out punishment! Wednesday, you are grounded!" 

Before Larissa could finish Wednesday shouted, "What?" 

Larissa, used to Wednesday's habits by now, said, "Yes, you are grounded, you ruined a very expensive dress, a carpet, and got rabbit blood along the walls and door. Oh, and partially in my apartment. So that means, no knives, no bombs, no hunting, no investigating, and NO TORTURING PUGSLEY!" 

Wednesday's eyes widened and she gritted her teeth but got an idea at the last moment and smirked, "Fine, anything else, FATHER or would you prefer MOMMY?" 

Larissa gritted her teeth but before she could say anything Wednesday spoke again, “I have to go back to our dorm room now, I’m grounded. Enid, did you still want to have lunch with your mother?” 

Enid, not knowing what to do to calm the situation, said, “Yeah, yeah.” While all she could think in a whiny voice was, “Wednesday, don’t get in more trouble, please.” 

Wednesday gave Enid a gentle kiss and walked out but as she stepped out of the door but still in Larissa's line of sight, she smirked and made a 'you're dead' motion. 

Larissa knew Wednesday wasn't actually going to kill her...or was she... 

Larissa groaned and put her head in her hands, "Fuck, I'm officially in hell." 

Morticia chuckled at Larissa and gently rubbed her shoulders while Enid spoke up, "Don't worry, Mom! Wednesday won't actually hurt you...physically." 

Larissa whimpered, groaned, and let her head land with a thud on her desk. Both Morticia and Enid winced at the sound and looked towards one another, and a silent look was shared, "She's in for it." 

[paladin--strait]

could you pls pls pls write strangers to lovers with Jamieeeee

warm - jamie drysdale x reader

yesss ofc!! I love this prompt with him 😆 this is really cringey, though! sorry about that. if you had something different in mind, let me know!! thank you for requesting! ❤❤

tw: slight harrassment, language, a random guy being creepy

-

the smell of coffee fills my nose once again when I walk into the cafe I work at near packer park, philadelphia. I greet my coworkers, put on my apron and get to work.

"y/n! I need table 3 cleaned please!" my coworker yells out to me.

"on it!" I grab the cleaning supplies from the back and rush out to clean the table. after that table, I look around and notice more tables are not clean, some customers even having to clean their own tables.

"here! I'm so sorry, let me get that for you!" I say, gesturing for the older lady and her daughter to take a step back to let me clean the table. "again, so sorry for that! we're short on staff and today seems to be busier than usual. if you need anything let us know!" they thank me for cleaning the table, then assure me that it's alright.

I clean a couple more tables before I notice a man around my age begin to clean the table at his booth. "ahh! I'm sorry! let me clean that for you, sir!" I say and he thanks me and takes a step back.

while I'm cleaning, I can't help but feel his eyes on me. it's normal for customers to look us at while we clean, but this time it feels different. it's making me feel uncomfortable and I'm not sure whether I should tell him to stop or not since I'm almost done cleaning his booth.

I take a deep breath and just continue to clean. I try to tell myself that its nothing but I can't shake the feeling that his gaze seems to give me. "you're table is ready, sir." I take a look around and I've managed to clean the rest of the tables. "if you haven't already ordered, I can take that for you!" I say, pulling out my pad of paper and a pen.

he takes a seat in his booth. "I'll take a black coffee and a piece of apple pie." he says slowly, reading off of the menu that's been laminated and hung on the wall.

"okay, I'll get that order going for you!" I say, beginning to walk off.

"I'm not done." he says with this tone in his voice that makes me shiver. I put my pen back up to the paper, ready to write down the rest of his order. "I'll also take your number, beautiful."

his words make my eyes widen. I've only had a few people ask me for my number before and that never ended well for me, considering all they wanted was a quick hookup. which has now left me single. but I've never had somebody ask me for my number like this before.

"I'm so sorry sir but I'm not interested. I'll go get your order started for you right away." i begin to walk off when he sits up and grabs my wrist.

"what's the reason? I saw the way you were looking at me. I know you want me." he says, bending down to my level.

"I uh, I have a boyfriend!!" I yell out, a bit louder than I intended, but I hoped he would believe my lie.

"oh yeah? where is he? he's not very smart to let someone so beautiful go out and work their tail off. come on, come back to my place and take a load off." he tries to entice me, but I pull my hand back and almost quite literally put my foot down.

"no. I have a boyfriend and I love him. I would never do such a thing!" I say, my cheeks heating with anger and embarrassment. I just want this guy to leave me alone.

"come on! he won't fuckin' know. you don't have to tell him everything." he says, laughing. his laugh is scary, deep and ugly. it makes my skin crawl and gives me goosebumps from fear.

I'm about to holler for help when hands grip my waist, knocking the guys hand off and pulling me into their chest. "I believe my girlfriend told you to leave her alone." I turn and look at the man who saved me from this creepy guy and he looks down at me, eyes wide and watery. almost as if he was angry.

"she didn't tell me she had a boyfriend!" the man tries to defend himself, but my hero dismisses him. "to hell with this! you're ugly as fuck anyway." his words still cut like a knife, even though they will be meaningless later.

I turn to thank my hero but he grabs my shoulders, "are you alright? I heard everything. he had no right to speak to you that way." it's almost like he's scolding me, even though I know that's not his intent. "I'm jamie, by the way. what's your name? if you don't mind me asking, of course."

I smile at him a little and point to my nametag on my apron. "its y/n. and thank you for helping me. you're like my hero!" I joke a little. he laughs, and its infectious. the way his laughs rings out throughout the cafe, and the tone of his voice makes his laugh irresistible.

I hear my coworkers calling my name, telling me to get back to work. I realize i have more tables to clean and I should probably get in the kitchen to help make drinks and food too. "I think I have to get back to work or else I'll probably get fired for slacking on the job or something like that." I chuckle, smiling at jamie.

I hear his name being called too and I turn to see it's a group of guys about his age. one is holding up a to-go coffee, presumably for jamie. "I have to go too. I'll see you around sometime?" I nod in a agreement and we both part ways.

I thought about jamie and the incident the whole rest of the day. I even tell my friends at work about it and they tell me that I should file a police report on the guy and show them the video footage of him. I agreed and went to the station the next day and filed a report. they said they couldn't do anything since he didn't physically hurt me and they didn't have his identity, which makes sense.

with every day that passes for two weeks after that, jamie shows up to the cafe. he orders the same thing everyday and I wonder how he's not broke yet. when he asks me if he could accompany me on my lunch break, I told him yes and he told me all about his life. who he really is, and what he does for work. he tells me that he'll buy me tickets to watch him okay in his next hockey game. I told him not to since I don't know anything about hockey and I would have to take a crash course or something else to teach me before I went.

that night I watched a video about the rules of hockey and all that stuff. I learned some stuff about the teams they were going to play in the upcoming games.

and the next day, jamie shows up with a ticket in hand. "it's my team, the flyers, against the ducks. they're from anaheim. I used to play there so I thought that might be a fun game for you to watch." he explains to me after I take the ticket and punch in his order.

a couple days later and a bunch of 'introduction to ice hockey' videos later, I find myself at wells fargo center to watch jamie and his team play. as I'm walking around, trying to figure out how I get to my seat, I see a team store and I spot a jersey with the name 'drysdale' printed on it with the number 9 under it. I run in and grab my size, paying for the jersey and putting it on proudly with a smile on my face.

I finally figure out how to get to my seat and I realize that jamie bought me a rinkside ticket. one that's right by the flyers bench. I try not to think about how much that ticket cost when all the players ran out onto the ice to start warming up.

I'm looking around at everything, taking it all in when I hear a knock on the glass in front of me. I turn and see that its jamie. he has the biggest smile on his face. "you made it!!" he yells, I can barely hear him, but I nod and put my hand on the glass right where his hand is on the other side.

"jamie look!" I turn around and point at the name on the jersey. when I turn around, he doesn't look very happy with me.

"if you wanted my jersey, you should have told me and I would have given you one of mine!" he yells out. he kinda has this pout on his face, but then he smiles. "but I still love that you have my jersey on. I'll see you later!!" he waves as his coach yells something at him.

a few minutes later a guy with flyers clothing on that says 'staff' walks up to me and asks me my name, which I tell him and he hands me a lanyard. I look over at jamie and he nods his head and smiles, giving me a thumbs up. I thank the guy and look down at it. it says VIP access.

the game is brutal to watch. but it's very entertaining and I catch myself laughing at it some. but after the game ends, I'm escorted down a hallway by the staff member that gave me my lanyard.

I'm left in the hallway with a bunch of women and reporters. a few of the guys walk out and a woman goes with them. I assume that those are there wives or girlfriends??

but my eyes light up when I see jamie walking out. he looks around before locking eyes with me, smiling wide, he walks to me and the staff lets me our from behind the ropes that separate the leaving players from the people waiting to see them.

he hugs me before holding my hand and taking me with him. "what did you think of the game?" he asks, smiling at me.

I told him my thoughts and scolded him for paying so much money just for me to watch him play. he tells me its nothing and that he wants me to come to as many games as possible, so he reserved that seat for me for the rest of the season.

"jamie you shouldn't have done that!" I say, smacking him on the arm. "what if I can't come to some of those games?"

"then the seat will be empty. it's alright! I just want you to come whenever you can." he explains.

"but jamie I see you everyday anyway!" I laugh, holding his hand again. "but I did have fun...so I'll come to as many games as I can!"

he smiles and we walk outside to his car, there's already and car with its lights on beside his and jamie's eyes light up when the owner of the car jumps out, calling his name and running to him.

the two guys hug and chat a little before the other guy turns to me and says, "hi, I'm trevor. you must be y/n! jamie has not stopped talking to me about you for weeks! it's nice to finally put a face to the name." he says, pulling me in for a hug. which I kindly return.

"the famous trevor!! jamie has told me so many stories about you!" I say laughing.

"all good things, I hope?" trevor says with a nervous look on his face.

"I can't promise that!" we all laugh and talk a little more before jamie opens the car door for me so we can leave.

I can't hear what they're talking about outside, which makes me a little nervous. but I see them hug and part ways before jamie gets in his car and pulls off.

"so y/n, I know we haven't been on any dates, and I know we just met a few weeks ago and this is even a surprise for me to be saying right now, but I really like you. and I want you to be my girlfriend. I've never met a girl like you. you're always so happy and kind. and my friends have never loved a girl so much that I've been talking to like they love you. so many people tell me that you're someone worth keeping around, and I agree completely. so y/n, will you be my girlfriend?" his nervous words catch me off guard, and I think they caught jamie off guard as well.

I take a minute in silence to think it over. before accepting his 'proposal' and smiling at him brightly. he pulls into my driveway and jumps out of the car, pulling me out and into his arms, giving me to biggest hug I've even gotten.

jamie pulls away, "can I kiss you?" he says, looking at me with eyes that shine even in the darkness of the night.

"please jamie-" I can't even finish my words before he pulls me in for a kiss so electrifying that I think my whole body goes into shock. I swear fireworks just went off.

jamie spends the night at my house, and we spend the whole night talking to each other. just holding one another and embracing the moment.

jamie calls in sick for morning skate and we sleep in, tucked in my bed that is now warm since it keeps another body under its covers. the bed is warm, and so is my heart.

[the-fluff-piece]

A Delicate Dance of Swords, part 3

Previous parts:

Part 1

Part 2

Also check out my masterlist!

So after open communication from the last part didn't work, Zoro tries to play the game romance novel style. The ship stops at a small island and replenishes their supplies, giving him the perfect opportunity to seduce you like a true romance hero! He also drives you insane because he is just hot and a total idiot. Still sfw and funny fluffy! CW: Y/n gets a bit hurt and is in pain

"Land ahead!" Namis voice could be heard all over the ship.

"We need supplies" Sanji chimed in.

"Lots of meat!" Luffy screamed.

"And medicine" Chooper added.

"But most of all, we need cola! We only have enough for a tiny coup de burst, we have to restock." Franky reminded everyone.

Everyone gathered on deck. Zoro's cheek was still a bit red, but he looked cocky as ever.

Nami was handing out money and to-dos: buying supplies, ship parts for repairs and all of the other necessities on sea.

"I will have some of my own business to attend to" Zoro said mysteriously.

"No, you have to do some shopping as well. Next island is far away, we have to split up and get lots of stuff." She shoved a shopping list into his face. "And you can carry a lot of stuff."

Their eyes met for an unnerving moment. "So it's settled, Zoro will go and get barrels of cola for the ship." Luffy's matter of fact order came through to Zoro and he snatched the paper from namis fingers. "Ok, just that, than I have some private business."

"Whatever. And take y/n with you so you don't get lost" she said and tossed you a purse with beri. "They are counted, change comes back here, understood?" She wagged her finger like a mom.

"Why do I have to go with him?" You said with a pout, remembering what he said to you earlier.

Zoro seemed pleased. "Let's get that cola!" He growled with unexpected enthusiasm and took your hand, leading you to the wrong side of the ship, opposite of the dock. You looked at him. He looked at the sea, puzzled. You kick his muscular ass in the ocean as revenge.

"Hope you manage to find the harbour or I will have to ask Sanji to help me carry the barrels" you teased and strode off.

"Oi, for what was that???" You heard his protest as you reached dry land. You waited a few minutes for him to crawl out of the harbour, completely soaked. You were smiling at him maliciously as his own scowl turned to a mischievous grin. "You wanted it" he announced - getting rid of his coat. "Guess I'll have to go like this". His bare chest was as formidable as always and the glistening water didn't help. Small, glinting drops were caught in his chest hair and made him sparkle like a stripper. Goddamn that man and his perfect body! You thought as you closed your mouth again and tore your eyes of that hot mess. "Let's go to town" you said and moved away from him. Seconds later his huge, wet hand caught yours. "I don't want to get lost. You will have to guide me" that evil smile was there again as he enclosed your hand in his iron grip. "Nami said so."

Grunting angrily, you made your way to the city centre with a dripping, half naked muscle man practically fused to your hand. It was a shame - the city was built on a hill with beautiful, narrow streets and terraces full of flowers. The people on the island wore colorful clothing and showed lots of skin - no surprise with the hot weather. You could already see heads turning and hear admiring whispers from the surrounding women as Zoro followed you through the small streets with its beautiful houses.

You looked around for some kind of shop and asked where to get the supplies. A slightly shocked clerk gave you directions to a place where you could get the quantity the ship needed for fuel. He wrote it down on a slip of paper that you stuffed into your back pocket.

"Alright Zoro, up the hill, there should be a store that sells whole barrels and not just bottles."

"Aye, my lady" he said with a low voice.

What's up with him, has he made it his life's goal to irritate you? His hand was still firmly closed around yours, it had to look like you were a couple holding hands. You just hoped no one of the crew would see you.

Determined to get it over with, you made your way through the small streets like the clerk told you, with Zoro following you like a sexy shadow. His thumb had begun to stroke your hand, only unnerving you more. In fact, it distracted you enough that you walked into a dead end. Great. You tried to get the paper out of your pocket, but it was hard with just one hand.

"Zoro, I need both hands for a second, let go" you wiggle your imprisoned hand around. He doesn't let go.

"I'll get it" he said, his hand already moving to your trousers, you try an evasive manoeuvre but he pinned your hand above your head to the wall of the alley. It wasn't painful, but you felt that there was no escape. His good eye was fixed on your face as you felt his hand caress your hip before diving into your back pocket, searching a bit too long for your taste, his thick fingers searching around and stroking your butt cheek in the process.

"Got it" he held the description up between his fingers and you took it, awkwardly fumbling the folded paper open with one hand. This was ridiculous. He was so close now you could feel the heat radiating off his exposed torso, so close you could make out the texture of his tan skin in enough detail to make your mouth water. Why does this brute idiot have to be so hot?

"So, where are we going? Or do you want to stay here a bit?" His voice was a low whisper as he inched his body closer to yours, already moving to place his leg between yours. The shift in his posture made all of the muscles in his torso dance under that sunkissed skin. Your heart began to pound - it felt like a great idea to just let him do what he obviously wanted to - but his strange little speech about your lacking body made you mad, especially when he presented himself like a perfectly chiseled statue. The memory of your hand on his scars came crashing back into you mind. But all that hotness, all that beautyful strength, it was worth nothing if he was not genuine. If he was not meaning it, only playing with you for fun, this wasn't worth it.

Just as you wanted to ram your knee into his crotch, he moved to place his hand on the wall just next to your head, effectively trapping you between him and the wall in a delicate cage. His hand, however, came in a bit too fast and forceful and before you could stop him you heard the impact of his steel hard fist with the wall, bits of brick and dust rained down on you.

"Oh fuck sorry" Zoro shouted through the hole he had made, apologising to the now surely traumatised family, whose living room now had an additional opening.

"I'll fix that!" He frantically screamed.

"We'll send in our builder, he'll have that fixed in no time" you added through the whole, making a mental note to tell Franky to come by.

He immediately backed off, although he didn't let go of your hand. "Uhm, let's go" he growled through gritted teeth. You finally got the chance to study the paper and find the right way.

You made your way up the hill where the store should be. The way lead up a cliff and had a beautiful view of the beach and ocean below. A light ocean breeze refreshed you as you looked over the water.

"So when's sunset?" Zoro asked from behind you.

"In a few hours?" You answer.

"Like 1?2?" He asked again.

"More like 4 or 5. Why?"

"Nuffin'" he mumbled and tugged at your hand. "Let's go a little slower." Unable to pull his weight, you slowed down.

"Why?"

"I'm tired"

"You're not tired, you can run for hours. This was a slow walk."

"Let's just take our time..."

"Why do you want to wait until sunset? Is it this business of yours?"

"Curious?"

"NO"

"You are curious"

"We can complete our assignment, get back, and you'll have all the time in the world to get back here until the sun sets." You turned around to look at him. "Than you can attend to your business."

"Fine." He moved at normal speed again and seemed to decide to quit this strange demeanor and did his best to get the barrels on a cart and pull the whole thing through the city and back to the ship as fast as possible.

But even with the barrels in the ships storage rooms - you just lend that cart and had to bring it back - again with Zoro in tow. What a nuisance. He seemed lost in thought, though, like this strange business of his was so distracting. Once again you passed the cliff with the breathtaking view and you couldn't help but look out to the sea. Your mood has significantly increased since Zoro quit his strange behavior.

Without further incidents, you gave the cart back and were done for the day. You relaxed and walked down the path again, already looking forward to a delicious dinner on the ship.

"You can attend to your business now" you told Zoro.

"I'm heading back to the ship." with a wave you went down the road.

"Oh great, I will get right to it" Zoro answered and walked beside you.

He looked at you with that unnerving stare again. You stared back.

He gave you a confident grin.

"Oopsie!" He said before he - clearly deliberately - let himself fall towards you, catching you with his hands around your waist and burying you underneath him. It was like being knocked out by solid stone. Lots of it. Fuck, that guy was heavy! As you fell onto cobblestone, you felt your ankle twist - sharp pain shot through your leg as this massive hunk of a man landed on you and put your body through a bit too much force.

You barely registered his face landing in between your breasts as you screamed "OUCH FUCK" and just kept cursing because of the pain, tears shooting into your eyes.

"Oh my god what happened? Did I hurt you?" He said, panic in his voice as he knelt over you, his hands hovering helplessly over your body.

"I didn't mean to hurt you!" He assured you.

"Well you broke my leg you giant, stupid....meatball!" Your head was spinning with the sharp pain and unable to give you a better insult. Zoro moved to examine your leg, and, upon remembering that he didn't know much about medicine, picked you up, which caused you to scream again.

You cursed and cried in his arms as your unsupported injury dangled in the air, causing him to lay you down again. "Why do you hate me???" You demanded, screaming.

His face absolutely fell apart and rearranged in an expression of utter panic.

"I don't hate you!" He shouted.

"Then why do you hurt me? Why are so mean to me all day? WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?" all the frustration and pain broke through and big tears dropped from your eyes in a stready stream.

"I didn't want to hurt you! And I didn't want to be mean. Fuck, I don't hate you - I fucking love you!" Zoro was now close to tears, too, and he howled the last part as if it caused him pain. His big hand tried to cath the tears from your eyes, as if that somehow helped.

"...what?"

"I love you! I was trying to get you to like me back all day, it was the perfect plan. I thought you wanted this!" He shoved his hands into his haramaki and for a second, you feared that he would whip his dick out.

Instead, he held up a messy conglomerate of dirty paper. On second look - it could almost be mistaken for a book. An antique one. The pages were dirty and looked like they had been soaked more than once, the cover was almost unreadable- until you noticed the picture.

"You little fucker stole my book?" Rage was taking the lead now as you snatched it from his hand, staring at the sorry pile of paper in disbelief.

"Why do you have my book?" You asked angrily.

"You obviously love that shit! I just wanted to give you what you wanted!" Zoro pleaded.

You looked through the pages. Some were marked: the bandit king is teasing the princess, telling her that she is flat as a pancake. Another marker, he's trying to protect her and makes her hold on to him tightly in a crowd. He pinned her against a wall and they...

Realizing what this idiot's head has produced, you have to laugh.

"You just did what was in the book and expected it to work?!"

"You looked so happy reading it! You obviously like that stuff." he explained miserably.

"Yes Zoro, I like to read it. Not live it." You tried to explain to this hot idiot.

"Isn't that the same?" Zoro asked, already kind of realizing that he made a mistake.

"No! I don't want to be chased by assassins while relying on a guy that I don't trust! It's only suspenseful and sexy when I can read that while relaxing in my chair!" you scream the obvious at him.

"Oh." He seemed to think hard. But at least he acted like the old Zoro you knew again.

"I am sorry" he said, kneeling in front of you. "I am sorry that I was a stupid...meatball" he said, already goofing around again.

"Apology accepted" you said.

"So...we good now?" He asked relieved.

"We still have some things to talk about" you said.

"Yeah, maybe." Suddenly he appeared more like an insecure boy than a grown swordsman. He couldn't look you in the eye, fumbling around in his hair.

"So yeah, I like you. A lot. I think your figure is just perfect and that you're really cool" he chose his words carefully and talked slowly. It wasn't a great speech or an original confession, but the words were all his and that was all you needed.

"I like you, too" you confessed. For the first time in days, the tension between you two dropped and he showed you an honest, happy smile.

"So, can I kiss you now?" He already leaned forward and pursed his lips.

You nodded and enjoyed the feeling of his lips on yours as he carefully held your head in his hand. He was far more cautious than you would have expected, clearly holding back. His hot lips cautiously brushed against your and just the tip of his tongue danced between your mouths. Since he was into sexy games now you softly bit his lip, teasing, asking for more. He moaned and got more passionate - but you had to stop him as he started to give the rest of your body more attention.

"Zoro" you whispered as his tongue trailed down your neck, "we're still on a street. Maybe we should go back to the ship. And my ankle still hurts."

With a frustrated moan, he stopped and picked you up, taking great care to prop up your ankle against his arm. Lifting you up was nothing to him, his hands carried you as surely as the thousand sunny did.

"I learned from this book of yours that waiting can be hot, too. Although I hate it right now" he growled into your ear.

You chuckled. "Didn't you want to watch the sunset?"

"Fuck that sunset. Let's patch you up and get dirty, that book has some crazy ideas I want to try out. Like what they're doing when she bathes and there's some hot stuff she does to him when they..." his voice trails of and his face got a lewd expression.

So that's part three! In the next Part, Zoro will further explore the sexy ideas the books give him - getting a bit more 18+. Or do you people have other ideas?

And here are the dear people that left nice comments on the previous one so I tag you

@zorosbigbootyassgirlfriend

@shadowywizardarcade

@gondriasblog

@dizzy08

[darling-renyuu]

and time can't stop me quite like you did; auron & rook

fic summary: just rook, and how red became their favorite color. a/n: this popped into my head and i had to write it down before i lose it forever. also, my rook's side of the whole thing (but hehe i hope you like it (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)) word count: 845 words

the first time was a well-hidden farce.

his hands were shaking minutely as he spoke words that meant everything and nothing all at once. ones he had rehearsed over and over and over in front of a mirror until he went insane - but he was not sitting face to face with his own soul. no, not at all.

he asked himself once: how can someone be so unknown and so familiar to him all at once? how can someone be so like and unlike him?

his red hair made his vision blur, yet why do his veins yearn to flow through them? when did red make him feel so alive? when did brown eyes feel so cold?

it's truly odd.

everything about him makes his blood thrum and sing songs of unwritten epilogues. like stars etched with scarlet thread in his skin, longing to return to the heights. he's ecstatic when sanguine fills his periphery until its all he could think about. words and jargon blur on his screen, forming a silhouette that makes his heart yearn.

the second time was an instinct.

he should have felt fear. that's what they've taught them in school, right? red means a warning. a blaring message telling you to stop and run away.

though, red feels warm amongst the candles. intimate, with the light dancing around his hair and making him glow. he knows from those brown eyes that his soul is cold and battered and broken down until poisoned shards remain.

with every drop of wine, he could feel himself pressing his ear to the shattered mirror to hear the faint thump of a heart. the edges bite into his skin, but he smiles.

he feels like a fool; a happy fool. one who bares out a piece of his being to let this blood-soaked dagger lodge itself into the softness underneath.

grabbing his chin was an instinct. he needed to brand himself into his memory just like he had for him. he wanted hazel eyes to tint his vision just like brown eyes had for him.

it was a gamble, a risk, but it was a calling. it was a glint of something more that went beyond silly fantasies and fiction. it was as if his offer could put words to paper and make them come alive.

and it did.

the third was an epiphany.

the festivities were nothing compared to the joy he felt when that red appeared once again. he realized that red meant something new; an intriguing vulnerability, like blood underneath hardened skin, coiled around barbed bones.

he wanted to catch a glimpse of the man in an ivory tower. the man whose walls were crawling with crimson-tainted ivy, his gardens filled with fire and fury.

and somehow, in between, where the heavens and the earth meet, he did.

speaking so candidly with him felt odd. like seeing snow on the beach. so, so strange, but beautiful.

it was if they were circling each other, entangling themselves in a song and dance where their eyes and skin communicate for them.

his lips, bitten until they looked like cherries; his cheeks, blooming in rose... and that addicting scarlet bleeding like ink into the sheets.

before he knows it, red has become his favorite color.

Rook's eyes blink open, groaning softly. His hips hurt like hell, but hey, at least last night's shenanigans weren't some dream that would fade in the morning...

The ceiling of Auron's penthouse greets him, and he snuggles right back into the covers like a darling thing.

Like some kind of rare event, Auron was still asleep. The sun greets his peaceful form, the invisible string tying his brows together was not pulled taut for once. Rook simply stops, focusing on how his arm fits snugly against his waist, how his breaths slowly synched with his.

That article he read pops up in his mind again. The one about a pair of heartbeats synching when being in close proximity. Would theirs do that too? Would the silence be adorned with two heartbeats, seemingly fitting into the quiet as one?

He swallows, resting his cheek back into the pillow. He laughs softly to himself, thinking of all the ways Auron would chide him when he wakes up. Maybe something about "watching him in his sleep" or something.

And yet, even if they were entwined a few hours prior, he longs to touch. To feel, once again, the hum of his pulse against his fingertips. One that his soul is willing to echo.

He slowly brushes a finger against his cheek, his breath catching in anticipation. He knows he doesn't need to be so soft. His heart says otherwise.

And so, with a swipe of his thumb against his cheekbone, he lets out a breath with a quiver. His hazel eyes catch the sunlight. If ever Auron were to awaken at this moment, he would see red in the color of love; a subtle thing, something cautious and curious, blooming in the cracks.

for the fourth, time stops like it never had before.

writing belongs to @/darling-renyuu. please do not repost. art belongs to @/jackieeleanor.

[invinciblerodent]

yknow, no, i'm not done thinking/posting/being deeply angry about the whole "bbuuuhhh Astarion is gay and was made playersexual as a game mechanic bbbuuuhhhhhhh" garbage some people still spout.

like this type of sentiment is always annoying and wrong, but it's specifically this character for whom it's especially annoying to me, just because on top of all the regular host of issues, it also deeply contradicts what I believe is the central theme of his whole goddamn story.

(excuse the rant please.)

Like, my skin already crawls at that term, "playersexual". I hate it, and find its use either vaguely ignorant at best, or blatantly pan/biphobic at worst. but even just besides that....

This character is a man whose narrative intentionally shows his presentation of himself, and of his masculinity, as being contradictory with convention. This character is one whose entire arc is about discovering who he is beyond the boxes he was assigned: a spawn, a monster, a seducer, a tool, a predator, a plaything, a victim, a sexual object... these are all identities that were forced onto him. And if he's given space to discover them, turns out, none of them are things that he actually wants to be. if you give him space, and affection (romantic or otherwise), and acceptance, and help him attain closure and catharsis, he expresses desire to be... an adventurer, a lover, a friend, a protector, so many things, but all of them in his own way. That's the point of his story, control vs. autonomy.

How.... myopic does one have to be to see that story, to play that story, to play an active, participatory role in that subversion, that search for the self beneath the masks, and declare that actually, they made him this other box for him to fit into, so... it's fine, i guess, to ignore what he says?????? it's fine if they pick and choose among his expressed traits which ones to use and which to disregard, because they decided (based on frankly homophobic and rather misogynistic stereotypes) that he cannot be different from their perception, despite him literally saying otherwise????????

Astarion's entire figure is a succession of trope-subversions. I could write essays about all the ways in which, in the romanced spawn game, the narrative sets up tropes (primarily in act 1), only to then purposefully knock them down and contradict them as the game progresses.

Like..... He was to take revenge by taking power for himself (like he thought he wanted, like Cazador did to Vellioth): ended up taking his revenge and rejecting the power that could have come with it, and despite that having a price, being content and grateful for it (and realizing that the alternative would have had an even greater price he would have paid unknowingly). He starts out using sex and sexuality as a weapon, and a tool of manipulation, like he did for many decades: ends up expressing discomfort with being seen as a sex object, resuming his sex life by saying "I love you" before his partner would have, and proposing sex with them as a beautiful metaphor for his own rebirth.

His whole story starts out with him thinking he requires protection from the player and that the only way to get that is through using his body and looks as a bargaining chip: later he discovers in himself a desire to be the protector himself, which he talks about more than once, and expresses varying degrees of discomfort at the thoughts of both using his body to gain something, and needing a protector.

There's the "this is what I'm good for" type of attitude towards sex morphing into "I am so much more than a thing to be used". There's the whole thing about how important his looks were to both him and his "usefulness" back then, despite him not being able to even fucking see them, (which also kind of includes that silly lovely gremlin-face he sometimes makes), but those are just the ones off the top of my head.

The story, and the romance plot, is about... it's about him regaining ownership of himself, it's about autonomy, his whole recurring "what do you want" line is about respecting his choices and letting him find his way to them, it's about letting him show you who he is, believing him, and loving the man behind the facade.

how absolutely fucking short-sighted does one have to be to then take that incredibly reductive stereotype of "femme-leaning man with theatrical mannerisms who cares about his looks; must be exclusively homosexual and any attraction he shows to women is just a mechanic/fanservice/flattery" (which, that's so fucking insulting to gay men, and bi/pan men, an any man who might express masculinity in a less than conventional way, and to the women who may love them [eta: and of course nonbinary people, and the people to whom masculinity means something wholly different]), and assign it to this character on their own accord, despite him literally telling the player otherwise? despite him verbally expressing attraction to multiple women, and contradicting that stereotypical interpretation wholly and out of pocket??????

like, hello??????? did we play the same game????????? did we play the same fucking game??????????

like don't think for one second that it isn't the pan/biphobia that annoys me more, it absolutely is, but this character is such a particularly egregious example, it's almost fucking poetic.

[tavyliasin]

Hello Haarlep lover ❤️ can I request how Haarlep and Raphael acts when they’re jealous?(like in the game when Raphaelis a bit angry when you have your way with the tentacle emperor🤣) ( separately please)❤️

Hello darling~ What a delightful request! And featuring my most beloved, no less <3 I am more than happy to provide you the answers as far as I see them, though every headcanon is beautiful in its own right so do tell me all of yours, too~

Raphael and Jealousy

For Raphael, jealousy is all about PRIDE. To admit a feeling of jealousy would be a stain upon Raphael's pride. That would be accepting that he sees someone as important, that they are important enough to get under his skin. On the flipside, for someone to take something that is his, someone that he has a rightful (in his mind) claim to, that's a slight against him too. So when he realises either of these feelings, he's going to have that internal conflict. Someone is taking something of his, but he is also admitting that they were worth keeping in the first place. Of course, showing any of this is even more of a dent in his pride. So he will try to keep it tightly controlled, just a few snide remarks, a couple of threats to remind his possessions to whom they belong (particularly a certain rodent). However, when this reaches a limit he will snap and glow with incandescent rage. Ah, my precious little glow stick, I love to watch you shine~ Sexually this comes out as his most Dominant moments. He will display his power, make his mark, and ensure that his possession can think of nobody else but him, that they can feel nothing but what he allows them, hears no voice other than his in their ear. At his peak, he will aim to leave them completely unable to forget their time with him and quite desperate to crawl on their knees, begging for forgiveness. More explicitly? BDSM, pain play, power play, and a whole lot of edging~ A flurry of greedy desire, possessiveness, and an absolute need to prove that he is the only one worthy of attention. In regards to certain people... Little Mouse - Raphael's favourite client is one he is most loathe to admit his affection for, but also the strongest. However, he only considers certain partners to be an actual threat. He's not jealous over the mouse's relations with any of the companions, they're mere mortals, just romance and sex. He's certain he is better than them, and that his mouse will always scurry back to his house in the end. However, when The Emperor tries to stake a claim? That's not just about mortal concerns, The Emperor wants to have power over the Little Mouse, to change them irreversibly into what he wants them to be. That won't stand. Raphael will not have anyone stealing true power over his favourite client, and he will not stop until he sees both the Emperor and the threat of his Mouse becoming a squid completely obliterated from existence. Haarlep - Raphael owns Haarlep, and uses them. He doesn't care for their nature, and has no issue with providing them contracted clients to have sex with (and thereby feed from). However, this is still on his terms, and while he might not see it as jealousy he is particularly enraged by anyone playing with his toy without his permission. He may also begin to feel an emptiness if Haarlep refuses him, playing only in the forms of others and denying him any connection. But that's another story~

Haarlep and Jealousy

Jealousy to an incubus might seem like a completely absurd concept, and you might be right, but Haarlep still has needs. They don't much care what Raphael does with anyone else, but if this is at the expense of Haarlep being fed then they will begin to feel that bite of rage. What does get under their skin though is any feeling that someone else is better than they are, that someone else is bringing more pleasure to one of their toys than they have, that someone might want anyone else's touch but theirs... They want to be the focus, the centre of lustful affections, and being second best simply will not do. They are also envious of those who have more freedom to seek a wider range of experiences, perhaps even some jealous nature towards others indulging in sexual pleasure with their favourite toys somewhere out of their reach. Most clearly, during sex, if someone were to utter any name but Haarlep, the speaker would be in a whole world of trouble. They demand satisfaction, they require all of the lust to belong to them and them alone. Their response to jealousy is similar to Raphael, only they can be far more cruel. Not just edging, full denial of pleasure, teasing on the brink of torture, using their aphrodisiac saliva on their target until their mind almost breaks entirely in desperation. They don't just want their target to beg forgiveness, they need them to submit to them completely, with all but the last vestige of their soul that keeps them from being a mindless puppet to their whims. They don't have a specific reaction for different people, but they do not tolerate anyone losing focus on them during sex. No matter who it is.