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pathologicalreid · 6 months

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buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. ��That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #h writes (hypothetically)

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assassinsblade · 3 months

Text

Arrows and Ashes | 3

Azriel's determined to help you get better. You are determined that you are fine.

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, injuries, fluff, some brief unhealthy coping, self-deprecation.

a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics!

Part 1 Part 2

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Azriel couldn't sleep. All night, he stayed by your side, watching your back rise and fall with each breath. He counted them, making sure you were getting enough air, that you were alive and well. And when that didn’t quell the pounding of his heart and the trembling of his hands, he moved closer and listened for the air leaving your lungs and the heartbeat in your chest.

He tried to read to pass the time, picking up the book he had brought in from your bedroom. But the words refused to sink into his brain, and he found himself unable to focus on anything other than you.

Any time his eyes wavered from your form, anxiety pooled in his chest. His eyelids had even become heavy with sleep, but he forced them open again, his shadows swirling around him in irritation.

He realized while sitting in silence that this was the first time you had been in his bedroom for more than a few minutes. He had known you for centuries, since he had been a child, yet he kept his room very private. You would enter occasionally when dropping something off to him, calling him down for dinner, needing to tell him something, or asking him to accompany you somewhere. But spending a longer amount of time together? Normally that occurred outside of either of your bedrooms.

Now, as you laid in his bed, your hair fanned out on the pillow, Azriel couldn’t help but feel like you were meant to be there. You occupied this space like it was your own, despite the aesthetic contrasting so deeply with your vibrant personality. It made something warm pool in his chest, a feeling that reminded him of coming home after a mission or falling asleep after a long day. A feeling he had pushed down until the past few days. One he had tried to ignore out of fear.

A soft groan pulled him out of his thoughts, and he immediately sat up straighter, his heart faltering.

You started to roll over to face away from the wall, your body moving toward him instead. But Azriel jumped to his feet, laying his hands gently on your arm to keep you from turning onto your back.

“Don’t move too much.”

His voice came out as a whisper, as if the volume could pierce you and cause you more pain.

“Azriel?”

“It’s me,” he clarified, scarred fingers stroking soft circles on your bicep. “I’m here.”

You swallowed, and he could feel your body start to tremble beneath his touch. Adrenaline shakes, he surmised -- your body still recovering from the pain and trauma it suddenly endured.

“You don’t have to say anything. You’re in my room, you’re safe. You’ve just been resting.”

Blinking as if trying to orient yourself, you tried to turn again. His strong hands kept you in place.

“Could you-“ you coughed lightly. “Could you help me turn? I want to see you.”

One of his hands moved beneath your knees and the other cradled your back, just beneath your wounds. He lifted you from the bed slightly, moving your body toward him before releasing your legs and encouraging you to turn on your right side to face him, keeping pressure off your back.

When he finally released his hands, his hazel eyes stared into your own.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he spoke softly in return. His fingers gently moved your hair behind your ear.

Your eyes traced his face in silence before you finally moved your gaze away from him, noting where you were.

“Your bed is cozy.”

Azriel had to control his facial expression so as not to reveal his confusion and concern. That was the first thing you thought upon waking?

He gave you a soft smile instead. “Can I get you anything?”

You shook your head, burying yourself further into the blankets. “No, I’m okay.”

There was no way.

But you didn't elaborate and seemed content enough to stay laying there in silence, no acknowledgement of the life-altering event that had occurred to you.

Azriel didn’t like this at all. He had expected you to wake up in pain, whimpering, asking for him or Cassian or Rhys. For you to have been in a panic over your wings, sobbing and mourning them. He had been prepared to comfort you and hold you and explain how you were safe and that those males had been torn to pieces for hurting you.

But you were acting like nothing had even happened.

It was unnerving, and the shadowsinger for once had no read on the situation.

He eyed you carefully. “I’m going to have to change your bandages in a bit.”

You stiffened, your body tensing at his words before relaxing, your eyes feigning nonchalance.

“Later,” you challenged, closing your eyes again. “Is everyone coming for dinner?”

Azriel couldn’t mask his uncertainty over the situation, his brows furrowed and fingers twitching at his sides. “I’m not sure. Are you hungry?”

“You know I’d never turn down something sweet. Do we have any of those chocolate croissants from our cafe?”

“I’ll check. If not, I’ll have Rhys bring you some.”

You smiled, and he stood from where he was sitting by your form, looking at you one last time before crossing the threshold into the hallway so he can check for something to appease your unexpected sweet tooth.

Your entire behavior was unexpected. You wanted to eat. You were smiling. Not at all hinting at the trauma you had been through.

Azriel’s job was to inflict torture onto those in the dungeons (among other tasks). He knew the trauma it caused — the pain, the nightmares, the way it would permanently break some fae. He wasn’t sure if what had happened had not caught up to you yet, if you were in shock still, or if you were pretending to be okay, unwilling to show weakness in front of him.

Both possibilities made something twist in his stomach.

He forced his feet to move away from where you curled up in bed, shutting the door softly behind him and making his way to the kitchen. It was empty still, save for the bundles of daisies Rhys had dropped off at Azriel’s request. The high lord hadn’t questioned the order for the flowers, only leaving a note with them that said they all love you.

The two large bouquets looked silly now to the shadowsinger. Of course, he was hoping they would make you happy based on your past joy from flowers, but with everything that happened? They seemed so small in comparison.

He shook the thoughts from his head, instead looking around the counters and cabinets for any sign of your favorite treats. When he found none, he wrote a letter to Rhys seeing if he could deliver some of those chocolate croissants per your request. Once the high lord knew you were awake, he would probably do just about anything you asked.

Azriel sighed in defeat, bringing one of the bouqets back to the room with him so he wasn’t empty-handed.

He paused outside of the door, trying to settle his nerves. His shadows only swirled around him in agitation, and he tried to soothe them back to his sides. Only when he went to shush them, though, did he realize why they were unsettled.

A quiet whimper sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a sniffle and a small choked sob.

Azriel immediately opened the door, not hesitating to knock or make sure you were decent. His eyes scanned the room hurriedly, noting the tossed blankets on his bed and the light spilling from the bathroom.

He walked into the entryway, body instinctually turning toward your presence, guiding him toward the cracked door on the left. You shouldn’t be out of bed without assistance, and he definitely didn’t want you to be in there crying alone. He quickly placed the flowers on the desk next to the door before he peered into the open doorway, eyes immediately drawn to your red rimmed ones. You weren’t looking at him, though. Your eyes were turned over your bare shoulder, looking at the reflection of your back in the mirror.

Your back. Azriel's stomach dropped at the sight.

He hadn’t seen it all cleaned up without the bandages yet. It was still somehow just as gruesome as when it was splayed open and bloody on that table.

The wounds were large. Crescent-shaped and still healing. They were deep, gouged into the skin, and anyone else would look at them and call them ugly, an eye-sore, a blemish marking what would have been beautiful skin. Not Azriel, though. Never Azriel. Not when he still ran his own fingers along his scarred palms when nervous.

He slowly inched the door open further, the movement catching your eye and causing you to quickly turn your back to him, your arms crossing to cover your bare chest.

It was silent, your startled eyes searching his own for some sort of reaction. Did you expect him to be disgusted by your? By your scars?

In a way, he was. He didn't think you were disgusting in any way, but the act that was committed against you, the pain you had gone through in those moments, Cassian's memories still flashing in his mind -- that was what disgusted him.

You swallowed, and Azriel was moving before you could say something. He walked around you in a way that was cautious but attempting to be casual as to not put you on edge. He didn't face your back right away, especially as he felt you stiffen as he passed your side, and instead reached toward the counter where one of Madja's creams sat.

Unscrewing the lid, he finally made his presence known close behind you, pausing to let you breathe through your nerves before gently moving the hair that had fallen back over your shoulder. You shivered at the movement, but you didn't flee. You didn't tell him no.

So he gently dipped his fingers into the medicine, bringing it carefully up to the first of your wounds, still red and angry and glaring at him as if he were an enemy. He so very gently covered one edge with the white substance. You flinched at the feeling but still said nothing, so he continued, holding his breath and waiting for you to either lash out or break down.

Neither came though.

You stood still as can be, letting him apply the cream and dress your wounds, even taking the wrap from him and around your front to help hold the gauze in place. When he finally finished, he pulled your hair back from where it laid over your shoulder, letting it flow beautifully down your back, no longer suffocating the space by your neck. Then he walked back around to your front, meeting your gaze immediately and refusing to let it go.

Azriel tried to read what you were thinking, what you were feeling. But you only blinked away the remaining tears as if you were breaking out of a stupor.

You stood up taller, putting a faux smile on your face. "No chocolate croissants? I'm disappointed, Shadowsinger. You know Cassian wouldn't have returned without them."

A sharp pain twisted in his chest at your deflection, at your so obvious false display of contentment.

"Daisy-" he started, voice low and quiet.

"Why don't we go pick some up? You can use your shadows to get us to the gate right?"

"Daisy-"

You made your way toward the door, stumbling and moving slowly with your body's new imbalance and soreness. "Then you can go see everyone else. You shouldn't have to babysit-"

"Daisy."

You halted at his tone. The strong, demanding voice filled with such concern and care.

"You don't have to do this," he said.

He couldn't see your face, but he could almost picture your haunted look as you took a moment to collect yourself, your voice shaking when you finally spoke.

"Do what?"

"Pretend." He sighed. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Taking a deep breath, you shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to feel what you need to feel. You have been through a lot, and it's not good for you to just pretend like it didn't happen."

He walked closer to you, approaching you from behind, but you whirled around before he could get too close, gripping the doorway to stop yourself from stumbling.

"Of course I can't pretend like nothing happened. My wings are gone, Azriel. They are gone. My back feels like its been shredded -- like someone took me down to the butcher in Velaris to play with. And every day I will see those scars, feel those scars. I will watch as Rhys, Cassian, and you all fly, and I will forever be grounded. I will never again feel the wind in my hair or leap from the balcony. My body is changed; half of who I am has been taken from me, so I'm sorry if I don't know who I'm supposed to be after that."

By the end of your outburst, you were breathing heavy, choking on sobs that threatened to come up. Azriel watched as you swayed, your still healing and exhausted body needing rest, and he stepped closer.

"You aren't supposed to be anyone," he started, tears filling his own eyes. "You will always be Daisy, no one can take that away."

When he reached where you were standing, you shook your head, backing up into the bedroom as tears began to fall down your cheeks.

"You don't understand-"

"You're right. I could never understand. But I still want to help. Let me help, please."

"You can't help me. You can't go back in time or reattach my wings. I’m no longer me, I’m ruined.”

Azriel lunged forward at your words, propelled by something deep in his chest to correct you, to defend the sweet girl in front of him. His eyes were wild with hurt as he grasped your face between his palms, guiding your teary eyes to his own.

“Don’t you dare say that. You are the same girl who walked out of this house days ago. You are strong and brave and selfless, and everything you have lost is proof of that. You are not ruined, you are everything.”

You only looked at him, lip quivering as you tried to listen to him and hold back your sobs.

You shook your head slightly. “I’ll never be able to fly with you again.”

“I’ll take you.” Azriel vowed, voice deep and resolute. “I will carry you wherever you’d like.”

“I can’t even walk balanced-”

“My shadows will help support you while you recover. I will help support you.”

You looked away from him, tears filling your eyes once again. The words that came next were small, insecure. "No one will want me like this."

It took Azriel a few seconds to realize what you meant, because he could never dream of not wanting you. They all had trauma and nightmares, but you were referencing your scars, your forever-marked body. Madja had been able to close the wounds, but the worst ones had scarred. The lashings that had become infected in those dungeons had scarred. Only days ago you had been scar free save for a few. Not, you had hills and valleys of rough textured skin on your back, abdomen, thighs...

And you were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Every scar a testament to your love and devotion to your family, a testament to your strength. He wanted more than just you, he wanted to worship you. He wanted to lay you down and cater to your every need, to massage and kiss every inch of your healing body, to show you just how beautiful he found you.

He swallowed, passion and an overwhelming amount of love filling his chest. It nearly ached. He directed you to look at him again. Nearly commanded it with his grip on you.

"I want you. In every form, in every life, in every universe. You are everything."

His words were strong, confident, and warm. He was pleading with you to believe him, to see and hear the truth that was right there.

You looked at him, studied him. Azriel knew your teary eyes were watching closely for a crack in his resolute stance. You would find none, though.

Eventually you sniffed, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you asked in a sweet but broken voice, "What if your mate had these faults?"

Azriel didn't even have time to be shocked at the question, because he was immediately retaliating against your self-deprecation. "They are not faults. They are a part of you, of your story, and of your selflessness. They encompass so much of your beautiful heart in them, they could never be a fault."

The insinuation made him angry, but he tried to tamp down those feelings. You needed reassurance, not a reprimand.

You didn't even flinch at his response. Instead, you held his gaze and tried to cover the meekness making its way into your voice by standing up straighter. Azriel held you firm, steadying your balance with his shadows and his own feet against yours.

"And you'd still be saying this? If it was your mate?"

He was surprised the question didn't have that much of an effect on him. Anyone else bringing up mates normally had him tensing, snapping, getting defensive and changing the subject. From you though, It was comforting. Natural.

"Especially if it was my mate. But they would be able to feel all of this from me too. I would make sure they always knew they were wanted. I'd tell them everyday how beautiful they are, I'd get them sweet foods to make them feel better, I'd surprise them with flowers..."

As if the words summoned your eyes to them, he saw you see the giant bouquet of daisies sitting on his desk by the door. Your eyes widened slightly, your brows furrowing and chest rising a bit more rapidly. Azriel tightened his grip on you to steady you further.

He tilted his head to bring your gaze back to his own. "You are wanted, Daisy. I loved you before this, and I love you now. I will continue to love you always. Because you are you."

His words cracked something within you, because the next thing he knew, he was catching your weight against him. Your cheek pressed against his chest and your arms wrapped around his back, and then you were letting out such a heart-wrenching sob that Azriel immediately held you as tight as he could. He wished he could take all of the pain away, all of the haunting memories and nightmares. Any threats or fears, he vowed to fight them for you. Do anything until a smile was back on your pretty face.

"I want you too. I love you too," you mumbled into his chest.

It was only a few minutes before your sniffs subsided, and you pulled back with red splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, skin wet with tears. Azriel cleared the hair from your face, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You're my mate."

The words were so quiet, Azriel almost missed them.

But he couldn't. How could he? Mate, you had said. Him.

He was shocked enough at the acknowledgement of a physical bond between the two of you that he probably looked absurd, but he wasn't that shocked at the Cauldron deeming you two well-suited. After all, he had cared for you as more than a friend for months now, even if he had tried not to acknowledge it in fear of rejection.

He breathed, allowing his love for you to fill his veins, fill his very heart and soul. And then he met your sparkling eyes, still slightly watery from minutes prior.

And he felt it.

Deep within his chest, it's presence slowly becoming more prominent, was a golden thread. A tether that thrummed inside of him and brought him to you. A tug nearly sent him reeling.

"Your mate," was all he said.

"Yes," you whispered, still a little sniffly. "And I'm yours."

He let out a wet, happy chuckle, tears beginning to coat his own cheeks.

"You're mine," he repeated.

He made sure you were stable before grasping your face in his hands once again, bringing his lips to your cheek, then your forehead, then your other cheek, then your nose, and then your lips. He peppered them all over your face and arms, over the lacerations. He let the warmth in his chest take over and sing a song he had never known. The song escaped his lips in the form of kisses, in the form of I love you, my beautiful Daisy, and I'm so glad you're safe.

Only once he had regained control of his actions, he let his forehead rest on your own.

"You're mine," he said once again. "My everything."

And he knew you felt it.

#writing #acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fluff

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pellucid-constellations · 1 year

Text

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

“What’s this punks name again?”

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.”

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?”

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.”

“Semantics.”

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes.

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice.

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one.

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus.

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team.

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you.

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours.

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck.

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting.

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?”

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?”

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.”

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.”

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?”

“Fuck you, man.”

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something.

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room.

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?”

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow.

“Y/n.”

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.”

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—”

“We’re going home.”

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.”

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.”

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice.

This was different.

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room.

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped.

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.”

“It was a big deal.”

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours.

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?”

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.”

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—”

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt.

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink.

A good reason.

You didn’t date athletes.

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else.

And you didn’t date athletes.

You did not.

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met.

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged.

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience.

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.”

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room.

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room.

“Tonight,” you answered plainly.

The arms atop your legs tensed.

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him.

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.”

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.”

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea.

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week.

Definitely not.

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat.

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you.

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering.

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.”

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone.

“What?” you yelled.

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again.

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.”

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.”

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you.

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out.

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up.

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.”

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?”

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.”

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.”

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?”

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again.

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled.

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.”

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left.

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal.

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked.

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?”

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream.

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack.

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question.

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went.

“What the fuck?” you blurted out.

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?”

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied.

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.”

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.”

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men.

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently.

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door.

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.”

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.”

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?”

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent.

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created.

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation.

“Yeah, but—”

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.”

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat.

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.”

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.”

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look.

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.”

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news.

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade.

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively.

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.”

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink.

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow.

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.”

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.”

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?”

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room.

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift.

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed.

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.”

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes.

And nothing at the same time.

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.”

“You’re being presumptuous.”

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply.

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen.

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you.

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.”

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.”

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you.

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.”

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter.

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you.

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter.

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.”

“You can do it again.”

“Oh, I will, baby.”

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together.

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.”

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?”

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.”

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets.

“And is that true?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfiction #college!bucky

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bat-boys · 1 month

Text

forever, my love

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+, mentions of battle and war, references to depression, smut (fingering) but it's romantic, angst but also fluff.

summary: you and Azriel had seen many battles over the centuries but when something goes wrong and has a lasting impact on you, Az promises to take care of you.

a/n: thank you so much for the love on the first fic! here's another one! I promise next time I'll write something happier haha, suggestions are welcome! I hope you enjoy.

The cruel, unyielding symphony of battle swelled in you as you continued to swing your sword at the enemies in front of you. Grunts of pain and screams of frustration left your lips as you continued to carve a path through the soldiers in your way, desperately trying to hold the line as Cassian had commanded.

Your body moved automatically, thanks to the centuries of muscle memory drilled into you from the intense training and the many battlefields you had found yourself on during your long life. In recent decades, you may have taken a step back from helping to command the Night Court armies and turned your attention to training the next legion of warriors and aiding your spymaster in more covert missions. Still, your body would always remember the steps needed in battle. It would never shrink from charging head first.

Once, you had been told you were beautiful to watch in battle—second only to Cassian himself as you danced your way through enemy hordes. But now, as you cut through another bottleneck of soldiers, you could only focus on keeping yourself alive, so you were extremely exhausted.

Step, swing, push, slash, pivot, hit.

As you managed to gut the last soldier in front of you, you allowed yourself a small moment of reprieve to collect your thoughts and take a gulp of air. The sound of battle raged around you, and you could faintly see your friends and allies around you, diligently fighting for a future you had only just battled for a mere handful of years ago. You sent a pulse down that precious thread, tucked deep within your heart and nodded your head in relief when you felt a responding pulse from the male on the other end. Alive. He was still alive. That's all that mattered at the moment.

You heard a shout close beside you and watched an Illyrian soldier, who had been grounded due to semi-shredded wings, fight off a group of soldiers starting to swarm around him. Taking a deep breath, you sheathed your long blade and palmed the knives strapped to either thigh.

Winnow, slash. Winnow, stab. Winnow, swing. Your High Lady herself had taught you this particular move after you had seen her yourself face enemies from a different war, a different conflict. You kept the image of your friends smiling at Feyre as she had embarrassingly walked you through how she did it, blushing furiously at your instance in teaching you at the forefront of your mind, and you continued to dance to the sound of the battle's symphony.

That was the future you continued to fight for, and you were determined to protect it.

…

Your entire body heaved as you shoved your blade through the chest of the last soldier in front of you. The sounds of battle were quietening and dying out as the last of the enemy horde were tied up or killed.

A groan left your lips as you yanked your blade free and used the last of your power and strength to winnow to the edge of the battlefield. You stumbled as you landed, cursing yourself for letting your power drain so thoroughly during battle. Az would chastise you about that later. Speaking of which…

Where are you? You sent down the bond, waiting for the familiar calm voice to reach your mind. A frown fell on your face as the minutes stretched past, and you didn't hear a response from him.

Az?

You refused to panic just yet. While this was unusual, you knew the moments after a battle was the most crucial for a spymaster as he gathered up defeated enemies to spirit them away for interrogation. He was probably just busy, you reasoned with yourself.

But a small part of your brain also whispered that he always kept the precious channel between you both open and always responded when you called.

You trudged through the mud towards the huge fortress in front of you. It may have been dilapidated and crumbling, but it provided a place where Rhys could gather his allies and forces and not be constantly caked in dirt and mud from his war camp. Once, it had probably been beautiful, home to some illustrious High Fae family, but now it was home to tired soldiers and had clearly seen much better days.

Azriel. You tried again to reach your mate through the bond, your heart thundering louder in your chest when you didn't receive a response. This time, you stretched your consciousness along that bridge…and slammed into a cold stone wall on the other end. Panic began to claw up your throat, but you refused to give in. He was probably busy with Rhys or Cassian; you desperately tried to reason with yourself as you sheathed your heavy blade into the scabbard strapped to your back and walked up the stone steps to the bustling entrance of the fortress.

"Injured that way, please!" You heard the familiar voice of your High Lady directing her people from inside the entrance. She turned around, and you saw her face relax in relief as she spotted you, "Y/N. Oh, thank the cauldron, you're alright."

Feyre was wearing her Illyrian leathers, her hair windswept and looking just as tired as you felt. She walked towards you, and you hugged her tightly, grateful to see one of your dearest friends safe and sound. You gently manoeuvred around the bow strapped to her back as she hugged you back just as fiercely. Much to everyone's surprise and yours and Rhys' amusement after the war with Hybern Feyre had mastered the notoriously tough Illyrian bow - why anyone doubted her after her past in the human realm you were still confused by. You had seen her sweeping over the battlefield today and dispatching enemies, saving your life more times than you cared to admit. Her flying wasn't strong enough to join in with the Illyrian legions yet, but she had become invaluable on the battlefield once again.

"You looked awesome up there today." You both grinned at each other, warriors recognising each other, "where is everyone?"

"Amren and Mor are in the war chamber, exhausted but ok. Cassian was dropping off a soldier to the hospital wing."

"Az?"

"I thought he was with you?" A quick shake of your head had her face falling, "Ok, he's probably busy with clean up - let me see if Rhys can reach him."

"Thank you," you whispered, and she squeezed your shoulder and kissed your cheek before going back to directing people coming through the entrance.

You jumped as you felt a bigger, wider hand fall on your shoulder but relaxed when you turned to see Cassian grinning down at you. Not the Illyrian warrior you were desperate to see but still a fucking welcome sight.

"You saved our asses out there, as usual, tiny angry one." You rolled your eyes at the nickname he had given you hundreds of years ago as you let him pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

"Glad to see you survived another battle, General, and without getting yourself torn to shreds."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up you." He teased as he gently pushed your shoulder. You may be Az's right-hand woman with his spy network now, but you were Cassian's second in command first. A formidable warrior whose name struck fear into your enemy's hearts, renowned for being utterly ruthless in combat and undefeated. How long ago it now felt when you and Cassian had first led the armies in that war hundreds of years ago.

"Have you seen Az?" You hated how quiet your voice sounded, but you struggled to keep the panic at bay.

"No," Cass frowned, "is he still out there?"

"I don't know, I can't reach him." You whispered, and immediately you felt Cassian shift, ready to head back out there and find his brother - could see the panic that settled in his eyes at the thought of finding him dead on the battlefield.

"Let's not panic yet. We'll go find Rhys, and we can set up a patrol-"he continued to talk to you, laying out a plan before you, but you couldn't hear him. Couldn't hear over the sound of your own panic as you tried to not give in to the fear that was eating away at your heart. You absolutely refused to even think for a minute that he was dead. But why was the bond cold? Why hadn't he gotten in touch, and why hadn't anyone seen him since the battle ended?

You turned your head to the side, ready to throw up the small amount of food you had choked down earlier, when-

Y/N! You froze as you heard a familiar roar and couldn't place if it was something you had heard echoed around the stone room or through that precious bond you shared.

Immediately, you turned from Cassian toward the sound of that shout, and your knees nearly buckled when you finally spotted Azriel walking through the fortress's entrance, bathed in his shadows.

His eyes were wild as he scanned the room, looking for you. His hair was matted to his sweaty forehead, blood coated his face, and he was stalking forward with a slight limp. But he was alive. Alive.

"Az." You had barely whispered his name, but you watched as his eyes snapped to you, and something broke in his carefully carved facade as his gaze took you in. Pure, undiluted, raw relief settled on his face as he realised you were still here, unhurt and standing.

Sobbing, you left your friend behind and ran towards your mate. He just stopped where he stood and held his arms out, catching you as you barrelled into him. He rocked ever so slightly back as he caught you, a testament to the exhaustion seeping through his body, but you felt that primal part of you that had been thrashing around your heart ease as his arms circled around you tightly and he buried his head in your hair - breathing you in.

"I thought I had lost you." You sobbed as you pushed your face into his neck, breathing in that comforting smell of night-chilled mist and cedar.

"I know, baby, I know." His beautiful, scarred hands gently stroked down your blood-soaked and matted hair as he continued to mumble, "I'm here. I'm safe. We're safe."

"What happened?" you asked as you pulled away ever so slightly from his body, letting your feet hit the unforgiving stone floor. Azriel's face was so tender, so soft, as his hands came up to cup your face. You watched, giving him a minute to scan your face for any injuries. A sigh left his lips when he noticed that you were largely unharmed apart from the usual cuts and scraps from battle.

"Faebane," he muttered darkly, and you gasped. "One of the soldiers had some and threw it on my face when I got close. Clearly, they haven't got much, and it's a diluted solution leftover from the war with Hybern as it cleared quite quickly, but still…this is something we now have to factor in."

"I couldn't feel you down the bond." Your voice hitched.

"I couldn't feel you either, sweetheart, I didn't know if you still breathed. I was so scared." Another sob slipped through your lips, one of sadness but also one of relief as you gripped his Illyrian leathers and pulled him closer - unable to stand any distance between you. You rose up on your shaky legs and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss wasn't sweet or tender; it was demanding and all-consuming. It was a kiss between two mates who had been terrified that after their years of searching, they had lost each other. You felt the rumble of Azriel's moan as you tilted your head to get better access to his lips. His hand reached up to cup your head to hold you in place as he licked into your mouth, and his arm snapped around you as your legs finally gave out and caught you before you sank to the floor.

You broke away gently, not going far as you rested your foreheads together. Your bodies heaved as you sucked in air for what felt like the first time since the battle ended. You closed the distance again to press your lips to his again, once, twice, thrice.

"I can't do this anymore, Az." You whispered, tears slipping down your face. Tears that Azriel captured with his thumbs as he looked at you with such devastation, "the wars, the battles, not knowing whether our friends are alive, not knowing if you are still alive. I have never felt so old."

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

You both sighed as you felt the soldier hovering near you, waiting to catch your attention. Once, you would have known every soldier's name, but now you just had a vague recollection of his face. "Azriel. Y/N. I'm sorry to interrupt, but Rhysand has requested your presence."

Az pulled away slightly to nod at the soldier, who offered you both a respectful salute before leaving. You felt his scarred hand drift down your arm to grip your hand. You felt his squeeze, and you squeezed back, "Come on, love, let's go get this over with, and then let me take care of you."

…

The fortress was quieter now, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next attack; the next moment, you would all be dragged out onto the battlefield again to face your enemies. You and Az had been stuck in meetings for hours after that initial reunion, and you had felt so hollow as your friends recounted what they saw throughout the day, the tactics the enemies were using and how you stood a chance at defeating them once and for all if you hold strong. You hadn't let go of Az's hand the entire time, only letting go once he had told his story about the faebane and he had seen tears slipping down your cheeks again and had pulled you into his arms.

A sadness clanged through your chest as you watched all of your friends that afternoon once the allies from other courts had left for their own war camps. Even through the exhaustion, the court of dreamers was still fighting, even though you had all been on the battlefield in a different war only a handful of years ago.

Azriel had made good on his promise. The minute Rhys commanded you to rest, Azriel gripped your cold hand and pulled you towards the room down the hall you were sharing. Immediately, he had asked a passing soldier to grab you a plate of food, something warm, before strolling into the room and firmly closing the door behind him. With such gentle hands, he had taken your frozen body and sat you down on the impressive four-poster bed in the centre of the room, your body sinking deeply into the comfy mattress.

He firmly pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before moving away to stoke the fire that someone had forethought to start while you were in meetings. Once satisfied, he quickly looked back over his shoulder at you - to check you were ok - before moving into the expansive bathing chamber. You could hear his footsteps on the tiled floor and the water gushing out of the taps into the large bathtub, but you couldn't stop the fear from clawing up your throat. Panic began to settle in again because he was out of sight.

What your enemies would think at the mighty Y/N reduced to this quivering mess.

Just as you couldn't take the roaring in your head anymore, at the nausea swirling in your stomach, and were about to get up to run to his arms again, Azriel stepped back into the room. You must have been shouting down the bond again because he had a soft, sad look on his face.

"I'm here, sweetheart." A whimper left your lips as you flew from the bed into his arms again, unable to get enough of the feeling of him, of being safe with him. His hand skated up and down your spine again, mumbling soothing words and pressing his lips into your hair: "I've drawn you a warm bath; come on."

You hadn't realised how much you had been shivering or how long you had been cold until the idea of settling into warm water felt so appealing. He smiled at you as he took your hands and guided you into the large bathing chamber. The bathtub sat in the middle of the room, large enough for not only you but also to accommodate wings, you realised. A soft smile fell on your lips at the thought.

In a comfortable silence that you and Az had always been able to enjoy, he gently began to unbuckle your damp and blood-encrusted leathers. With slow, methodical movements, he pulled the material from your body before throwing it into a basket in the corner of the room. You watched, your breathing shallow as Az ran his soft fingers up the exposed skin of your arms before hooking under the strap of your bra and removing it carefully from your body. Only then did his fingers skate down the soft valley of your breasts, over your abdomen, before slipping underneath the waistband of your underwear and slipping them down your thighs. Az had seen you in every state and had marked every inch of your skin with his lips and tongue, but this moment, him undressing you as you tried desperately to keep yourself from shattering, was the most intimate thing you had shared. It was warm and sweet, flecked with starlight.

That same warm smile was still on his lips as he took your hand and guided you into the warm water in the bathtub. An appreciative groan left your lips as your feet, legs, and body were submerged in comforting, warm water.

You turned around and grinned at your mate as you watched him unbuckle his own leathers and shuck them off his body. You couldn't help gazing appreciatively at his body, that body you also knew as well as your own: the proud contours of his shoulders, the toned muscles of his arms, his chiselled abdomen, the thick, powerful thighs. He truly was sculpted by the gods themselves.

Az silently padded over to the bathtub, slipping into the warm water himself before resting against one end and gently slipping his arm around your waist to pull you against him - your back pressed tightly against his chest.

With a gentleness that you know would shock so many people, he reached to grab the washcloth and soap from the side before he lathered them up and softly washed the mud and blood from your body. He took his time, kneading his hands into your aching muscles. He even undid your tattered braid and carefully washed the blood and dirt from your hair. The moment was so loving and beautiful after what happened earlier in the day that you couldn't help the tears that silently slipped from your eyes and tracked down your cheeks.

Once you were both clean, he pulled you flush against his chest again, letting you lean against him with your eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of being this close to him in the warm water. You idly traced the scars on his hand underneath the water where it was resting against your stomach whilst his other hand slid up and down your thigh, over your hip and up your body.

"I love you, Az." You whispered into the soft silence that had settled between you.

"I love you too, baby." You felt him press a kiss to your temple.

After today, after the horrors you had seen, after the panic that had coursed through your veins, you needed to feel something more. He wasn't close enough; you needed to feel him. Without saying a word, you lifted your free hand to gently grip the hand that was trailing up and down your body, stopping it in its lazy movements to slowly place it closer to that now throbbing part of you at the apex of your thighs.

"Sweetheart?" He questioned quietly. You could sense through the bond his willingness to touch you and feel his want with the way his erection was pressed against your lower back. But he needed to check that you really wanted this and that he wouldn't overstep some line, especially after today.

"Please, Az. I need you." You whimpered as you felt his slender fingers skim along your inner thigh.

"Relax, sweetheart, let me make you feel good." He rumbled against you as he gently began to press kisses under your ear, at that sweet spot he had found on that first night all those years ago. Your chest heaved as you felt his calloused fingertips trace up your thigh, over the curve of your hip, and along your bikini line before sensually slipping down to trace your slit.

A soft hiss escaped your lips at the feeling of his fingers so close to where you needed him most, a whimpering, "Please," leaving your lips as he chuckled behind you. His breath ghosted over the shell of your ear and caused a shiver to run down your spine.

"I have worshipped your body for centuries, love," Azriel murmured, his strong nose nudging the side of your head so he could begin placing open-mouthed, hot kisses down your neck, "and I never get tired of hearing those noises you make when I touch you."

You whined softly when Azriel moved his hand, but it was quickly silenced when you felt him suck on the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder as his strong hand gripped your thigh to move it to the outside of his so he had better access to you.

One of his slender fingers returned to your centre and traced your slit once again before gently swirling around that bundle of nerves. A curse ripped from your lips as your hips bucked at the contact, and another primal chuckle rumbled up Azriel's chest at your delicious reaction.

Azriel continued to swirl his finger ever so gently over your clit, every now and then applying the smallest amount of pressure and causing a sharp cry to leave your lips as white-hot pleasure shot up your body. It wasn't enough; he was teasing, and you needed your body to shatter in a way you were familiar with.

"Use your words, love. Tell me what you need." You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, and if you weren't wound up so tightly, you might have called him out on it.

"Your fingers, Az. Please." You whimpered.

"Because you asked so nicely." He mumbled into your skin as he gently slid one finger into your core. A sharp cry left your lips at the feeling of those scars creating the most delicious friction against your walls.

He set a slow but deep pace as he pumped his finger inside you, his thumb still drawing figures of eight on your clit. You could feel the pleasure building inside of you, your toes curling as you felt Azriel taking you higher and higher. His hand that you had been gripping, resting against your stomach, slid up your body to cup your breast. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he expertly rolled your nipples between his fingers and tweaked them in the way he knew you liked. You could feel that familiar crest of your orgasm approaching, and he had barely touched you. So expertly knew your body. You threw your head back against his shoulder, unable to do much but go limp against him.

"I love you so much, Y/N." He whispered, and you turned to face him and saw that raw emotion on his face again, an emotion that mirrored yours. As he slipped another finger inside you, curling his fingers to reach that spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars, you reached up to grip his hair and press your lips to his.

You felt him grin against you as you kissed him, your hips undulating and rolling against his fingers to meet his lazy thrusts. The kiss was full of teeth and passion, and you felt the rising tide of your pleasure as you writhed against him. A cry left your lips as you felt yourself reaching the top of the wave, your mind turning foggy and hips bucking sloppily as you felt your orgasm approaching.

"Let go, love, cum for me." His words, whispered lowly in your ear, his tone dripping lust and awe, and the soft thrust he gave behind you that had you feeling how much he was enjoying seeing you like this, caused that band in your body to snap and the pleasure he had been slowly building crest and shatter. Pure, white, hot pleasure sparked throughout your body, sending every nerve-ending alight as your orgasm washed over you. Chants of his name left his lips as your back arched and your hips thrashed as he continued to pump his fingers deliciously inside you.

After what felt like hours, the wave of pleasure began to subside and be replaced with a bone-deep satisfaction. A sigh left your lips as you slumped back against your mate, his arms catching you - as they always did - and pulling you close to him. You felt Azriel mumbling your name whilst pressing soft kisses to your temple, cheek and jawline.

"Rest, love. There will be time for more later. I promise." It was that promise you clung to as you rested against your mate and let your body relax in the cooling water of the bath.

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baeshijima · 11 months

Text

— one more time

jing yuan has always considered himself to be a patient man, never failing to have a plan in mind and out of sight for unforeseeable circumstances. when it comes to matters involving you, however, he finds that he never has the time to think; not when he acts quicker than he can process.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1k wc, fluff, kissing, very much pining jing yuan

A/N : holds this man gently as i stare at him doing his idles with big wide eyes and tears rolling down my cheeks (also yes this is me using the "idk how to kiss" "then i will teach u" trope as an excuse to write a kissing jing yuan fic bc i am delusional and proud🐥)

when jing yuan was reciting his usual pep-talk as he made his way to your decided meet-up spot (which included, but was not limited to: stay calm, cool, and composed— the triple-c, if you will — and don't make a fool of yourself, jing yuan), he figured the cosy picnic (date) arrangement would go smoothly and without a hitch. you would be there bathed in the artificial sunlight, fingers threading through blades of grass and then you would turn at the rhythm of his footsteps, that signature grin of yours on full display as he would attempt to calm his thunderous heart from spilling saccharine confessions accumulated over the last few centuries.

like always.

but very much unlike now, it seems.

in place of the predicted events he'd conjured up beforehand, the words “i don't know how to kiss” welcome him instead. (he just barely catches himself before the picnic basket in his grip goes tumbling across the grass.)

“...what?”

“right?” you huff, seated on the grass with your arms supporting your weight while bathed in the artificial sunlight of the luofu. “i've lived for this long, and yet i have never kissed anyone! wait, or maybe it's because no one wants to kiss me... am i that unkissable?”

“no!” is the immediate rebuttal which springs forth to the tip of his tongue, but he just barely catches himself. he's planned thousands, probably millions, of ways in which he could confess to you, but the timing has never been quite right. that, or the times where he was about to confess were interrupted; sometimes by some last minute calls, other times where he just misses the timing, but usually by yanqing unceremoniously barging in between you.

this time isn't any different either, because it is simply not quite right. there's something — something imperceptible yet obvious in the back of his mind, giving him the go-ahead on the perfect time to bleed nothing but the pure, unadulterated adoration you've inflicted upon him.

this time isn't any different either, but his mind goes blank, a clarity he has never felt before driving his senses.

“i'll teach you.”

it's a sudden offer, one he doesn't really know where he got the confidence to offer it from, and yet something about your stunned expression and his unusually calm heart seems... right.

“...you know how to kiss?”

“i know more than you do,” he counters. a triumphant grin tugs the corners of his lips when your mouth instantly clams shut at his words.

he waits for your response with baited breath. will you agree? will you refuse his, painfully obvious, advance? oh god what should he do if you say no? play it off as a joke? tease you for considering it? walk away in shame and cry about it—?

“alright then,” you say, and he blinks once, twice. “it's not like i have anything to lose.”

...is this a dream?

apparently not, as he now finds himself seated in front of you with the artificial sunlight doing little to help fend off the heat blooming along his skin. your eyes are closed with your body leaning towards him in baited anticipation, but his gaze hones in on the clench-unclench of your fists and your stiff posture.

unable to contain himself, he chuckles, “someone's a little tense.”

“ugh, cut me some slack! you're my first, so of course i'm nervous.”

your first. he's your first. yours. he's yours.

it's almost like a mantra the way he repeats your words (as well as varying renditions of them), one which does little to keep his waning self-restraint intact.

with a sharp inhale, he cradles your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your head slightly to align better with his. if this were him any other day, he would have merely brushed this moment off as another one of his fantasies; an untouchable perception of what he wishes could be his.

this is not any other day, however, as jing yuan is hyper-aware of your light breaths fanning against his lips, the faint brush of his nose against yours, and your familiar scent which curls into him.

you, you, you. you are all he feels, all he can think of, even more so when he finally pushes forward into your awaiting silence and slots his lips against yours. it's a perfect fit, he thinks in what little room he allows for thought when preoccupied with your overflowing warmth and the taste of you on his tongue and the sheer euphoria which bubbles up when you hold onto him in response to his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks and holding you close.

he wonders if you can feel his centuries' worth of repressed affection from this exchange — if you can feel the desperation coursing through his veins as he leans into your touch. he already knows it's impossible though, for his love runs far too deep to be conveyed in just one singular moment.

“did you get that?” there's an ache in his heart when you part for air, but it's quickly forgotten when you blindly chase after him.

“one more time,” you whisper against his lips, his heart surging up his throat at your half-dazed eyes and tightening grip on his clothes. “i think you need to show me one more time.”

his waning self-restraint snaps.

“look at me,” he whispers back, voice hoarse with pent-up desire. his hands tilt your head up, guiding your gaze to align with his once more. before you can let a word slip through it's smothered, his lips crashing onto yours in an instant as he finds himself more determined than ever to leave you breathless with his adoration and have you focus solely on him.

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #jing yuan x you #jingyuan x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

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ellieswifie · 4 months

Note

cuddling w chris while watching a movie in his bed and falling asleep on his chest and he finds it so cute and falls asleep after

cuddling with chris then falling asleep

𐙚 shortish fic!

warnings: boyfriend!chris, slight angst,

authors note: this has been in the drafts for a while sorry about that, but i was just watching ‘a walk to remember’ and thought hey how about i finally get up and start posting some fics.

˗ˋ.*✧·˚ ೃ࿔₊•

CHRIS ISN’T THE SUPER AFFECTIONATE TYPE. sure he’ll want to go out on cute dates here and there, or do cheesy couple things, but if you ask him to couple up on the coach or in his room and watch cheesy romo coms his first response will be no.

you weren’t always annoyed by this though. you knew how scary it is for him to be a relationship considering how intense youtube has been for him, but it always deep down seems to bother you.

it was a late thursday night and chris had just finished filming with his brothers when he noticed you sitting on the couch strolling through instagram with a cheesy movie on, he couldn’t help but smile a little bit. nick had editing to do so he immediately darted to his room, while matt sat on the opposite end of the couch, staring at his phone.

you looked up at chris, smiling before bringing your eyes back to the tv. "how was filming?" you asked, leaning for the blanket to your right, and covering your lower half.

chris groaned, laying his head on top of your from behind the sofa. "you know how hectic filming is." you really do. as his girlfriend you’ve only been in a few videos bc of how creepy and weird the fandom is, but it does get a little intense.

“yeah…" you muttered, shutting of your phone and making room on the couch for chris. "we could watch a movie? something less cheesy."

chris straightened, looking at you then his brother. "umm maybe we could watch it in my room? and it’s your turn to pick a movie."

your eye brows scrunched as you looked at matt. matt looked up from his phone, confused as he looked at you and chris. then it clicked in his head and he immediately stood up from the couch. "oh no! by all means i’m going to my room. sitting in a room with just the two of you is like sitting in a room with-"

"okay thank you matt!" chris said stopping him from finishing his sentence. you giggled as you also stood up from the couch. "but is okay we can just watch in my room. besides i’m already exhausted."

matthew nodded, but still dashed to his bedroom down the hall. in his head he was taking no chances.

you wrapped your blanket around your shoulders, and slipped into your slippers beside you on the couch. it was nearly twelve o’clock so you were already dressed and ready for bed. you had no plans staying the night due to your crazy early classes in the morning, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

chris moved beside wrapping a lazy arm around your shoulders as you guys made your way upstairs.

you sat on his bed, while he made his way towards his dresser, looking for some pjs to toss on. he ended up finding some plaid pajamas and a plain white t-shirt to toss on. he grabbed his laptop from the corner of the room, before settling on the bed beside you.

"so we can watch anything but the notebook. deal?" chris said opening the laptop. you groaned, pushing yourself into his long arms.

"come on you forced me to watch some karate movie a few nights ago."

chris gasped as he remembered last movie night. "karate kid is the movie of the century. you can not dis on that movie ever babe."

your eyes rolled, as your moved your hands to the keyboard. “yeah yeah, whatever." you opened netflix, scrolling through the now trending movies, to then opening the romance movies.you see the past movies your boyfriend had been a baby through, and you simply just giggle to yourself. but when your eyes land on a walk to remember you gasp while chris groans,

"again?" he whines, looking at the title.

“what do you mean again? we’ve never watched this together." you correct, looking at him. he kisses your forehead gently, looking down at you. "but you have and that doesn’t seem fair." he replies.

"alright fine." you say, clicking out the movie preview and continuing to scroll.

chris frowns looking at the change in tone. as much as he hates romance movies he hates upsetting you more. "wait no if you really want to watch it we can."

"no im not going to force you to watch something you don’t want to watch." you say, trying not to sound annoyed or sad.

“no im serious we can watch it. you just have to promise not to fall asleep." he says, smiling at your face slightly light up.

you click back in the movie, rubbing your face against into your boyfriends chest. "no promises. i’m already sleepy." you giggle, while chris rubbed his fingers through your messy hair.

and you were beyond right. twenty minutes in you were passed out. snoring slightly and holding chris like he was a teddy bear. he wasn’t even watching the movie, he was watching you.

the way you were smiling at something in your sleep and slightly drooling seemed so adorable to him. your hair was just scatted across his chest while he kept playing around with your loose strands.

his eyes glanced at his phone in his hand and frowned at how late it was. he turned off the running movie, putting the laptop on his end table, being so careful not to wake you.

you rolled over to your side, so you were completely against chris’ chest. he just couldn’t stop smiling.

he rubbed your cheeks slightly, before kissing your temple good night, drifting asleep with you in his arms moments later here with you.

#ellieswifie #gracie writes #fem!reader #fluff #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #chris blurb #chris #chris sturniolo #christoper sturniolo

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bellodazai · 1 month

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‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. A sight to behold - Dazai Osamu

Dazai couldn't control the erratic pace of his heart at the sight before him. He had came home late tonight, by an mission that had gone for far too long for Dazai's liking leaving him yearning for him to be in your arms.

Dazai's soft gaze was on you, sleeping on the bed, covers kicked off from movement, his eyes trailed over your body halting to where you were snuggling a pillow, holding it close to your body as you would with Dazai. His heart clenched as he saw his crumpled button down shirt stretched over the pillow, the sight made his heart flutter once again.

As quietly as he could, Dazai discarded his trenchcoat, leaving it crumpled on the floor in a crumpled mess which Dazai is certain you'll yell at him (affectionately) about it in the morning for making his freshly ironed clothes all creased. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he kneeled next to your sleeping form as he tried to gently take the pillow out of your arms. He halted in his movements as you mumbled incoherently in your sleep worried for a moment he had woken you up from your slumber. A certain smells fills his nostrils and he can't stop his heart from beating faster. You had sprayed some of his cologne onto the pillow, did you miss him that much? Dazai couldn't help but cry inside that you would miss him that much, that someone would miss his presence.

He resumes to tugging at the pillow gently, not budging he pouts internally, he never thought he would be jealous of an object but here he was jealous of a pillow. Giving up on the gentle tugs on the pillow Dazai yanked it out of your arms finally in his reach the pillow letting it fly in the air landing somewhere on the floor with a soft thump. The loss of your pillow woke you up as you groggily opened your eyes looking up at Dazai with a sleepily.

"mm sorry my love" he said with a soft whisper his caressing your cheek gently. "the pillow was in my place"

You open the covers and arms for Dazai to rest in, he settles between your arms leaning his head against your chest to match his heartbeat with yours. "you stink" you say to him with a yawn, nose scrunched from Dazai's sweaty smell from the mission as you gently pushed his head away form your chest to see his offended face which turned into a exaggerated pout. "how could one say that about a hero!" he exclaimed dramatically. Dazai after not seeing you all day which had felt like centuries had been too eager to embrace his love to even think about showering once he got home. "I was out on a mission to save the wooorlldd-" he said cut off by you clamping your hand down on his mouth. "missed you" you mumbled just content to have him home once again. "m'here now" he said quietly placing a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for a moment before moving back to his original position against your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Dazai sighed happily, your fingers running through his hair, he wished for this moment to never end, his heart swooning with his love for you. Your movements topped as Dazai heard shallow breathing indicating you had fallen asleep. Not knowing if sleep would bestow him tonight or not, Dazai was happy just to be in your loving embrace.

if you like this please reblog and like -- its my first fic :) divider credit to @/benkeibear

#dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #bsd fluff #dazai bsd #dazai fluff #bsd x you #dazai osamu #dazai

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gffa · 3 months

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STAR WARS PREQUELS - A TIMELINE

So, what's this about, huh? After recently sitting down with Star Wars Timelines, I was genuinely surprised at just how much they were willing to nail down to a specific year and sequence of events, which admittedly is a reference book and those are pretty low on the canon totem pole so be prepared for future retcons down the road, but it's shockingly useful information to have! Because the more I paged through it, the more I realized just how useful it would be for fic writers, especially for anything that might be referenced by a prequels character. Do you want to know how old the Jedi Order basically is? What the eras were called, if a prequels character wanted to reference them? What year did Dooku leave the Jedi? When did Naboo join the Republic? When was the Republic founded? When was the Jedi Temple built? When was Yaddle born? When did the Togruta ally with the Republic? Was Anakin born on Tatooine? When did Plo discover Ahsoka? When did Anakin get his first kyber crystal? When did Obi-Wan join the Jedi Council? WHEN DOES THE MANDALORIAN CIVIL WAR TAKE PLACE?? Some of this is SO INTERESTING to have nailed down into place--like just how old Huyang is or that the Jedi Temple was constructed on Coruscant BEFORE the Republic existed! Useful for me to know, but also my prequels-era characters to know! This book is willing to tell us A LOT and I collated everything I thought would be useful for a prequels character to know! ERAS:

c.5,000 BBY– 1,032 BBY: Ancient conflicts "The Jedi and Sith wage a series of wars throughout their history so ruinous that at points each is brought to the brink of destruction."

c.500 BBY–330 BBY: "The Age of Exploration" "After centuries of governing in regions near the galactic Core, the Republic sets out to explore the Outer Rim. This era of exploration on the frontier presents many adventures and opportunities for the Republic and the Jedi Order alike, but growth also leads them to uncover new mysteries and dangers. Soon the Jedi Order’s very connection to the Force is put to the test."

c.500 BBY–100 BBY: "The High Republic" The four hundred years that are collectively referred to as the High Republic era.

TIMELINE:

c.25,025 BBY: BIRTH OF THE JEDI

"The Jedi Order is founded. Among the earliest locations, and likely the first, is a temple constructed on the planet of Ahch-To. Later, the temple retains the most treasured Jedi texts and earliest writings on the Order’s faith. For eons, these noble protectors stand united by their ability to harness the power of the Force itself for good."

c.25,020 BBY: Professor Huyang powered up "The architect droid Professor Huyang begins training Jedi younglings in the delicate art of lightsaber construction."

c.20,000 BBY: Dawn of the Republic

"The foundation of the Republic is formed through an alliance including Coruscant, Corellia, and Alderaan, prompted by the dawn of hyperspace travel."

c.5,000 BBY: Creeping darkness

"A dark-side sect splinters from the Jedi, causing the formation of the Sith. This fracture is the genesis of a millennia-long rivalry."

c.5,000 BBY–1,032 BBY: "The Sith battle the Jedi in numerous conflicts for thousands of years before their struggle comes to an end, resulting in the destruction of the Sith Empire."

c.5,000 BBY–1,032 BBY: "The Sith build shrines on planets, including Malachor and Moraband. They covet these locations for their connection to the dark side of the Force."

c.1,050 BBY: A Mandalorian Jedi

"Tarre Vizsla becomes the first of the Mandalorian warriors to be inducted as a member of the Jedi Order. The unique lightsaber he constructs comes to be known as the Darksaber, later stolen to be used as a symbol to unite his planet."

c.1,032 BBY: Coruscant Temple erected

"The main Jedi Temple on Coruscant is constructed at the same location where there was once a Sith shrine."

c.1,032 BBY: "Darth Bane, the last surviving Sith, recognizes that infighting and back-stabbing ultimately led to the downfall of the Sith Empire. He declares the Rule of Two, whereby there can only be a sole master and single apprentice of the Sith. The practice safeguards the inherently selfish Order from self-destruction, thus ensuring the survival of the Sith for centuries to come."

1,000 BBY: Reformation of the Republic

"The first incarnation of the democratic alliance of planets, the Galactic Republic, is reformed."

c.972 BBY: Rules of war

"The Galactic Accord of Systems establishes a set of rules of engagement, in the event another war should break out."

896 BBY: Yoda is born

"The future Jedi Master Yoda is born."

832 BBY: Construction of Theed

"Naboo’s capital city, Theed, is built. The floating city on the banks of the river Solleu becomes the jewel of the metropolis."

867 BBY: Naboo joins the Republic

"The planet of Naboo officially joins the Galactic Republic. The event will be commemorated annually with The Festival of Light."

796 BBY: Students of Yoda

"Master Yoda begins training Jedi. He will maintain this regular practice, teaching the newest members of the Order, for about 800 years."

600 BBY:

Jabba Desilijic Tiure is born.

509 BBY:

Yaddle is born.

c.392 BBY: PATHFINDERS

"The Republic and the Jedi establish Pathfinder teams to explore new hyperspace lanes in the farthest reaches of the galaxy. A team of Pathfinders typically includes two Jedi, a master and their apprentice, who work together with their Republic allies to discover new ways through dangerous and unexplored places. They work with communications teams who lay the groundwork for the infrastructure needed for Republic growth. In return for their efforts, the Jedi Order hopes to gain new understanding of the galaxy, new cultures, and the Force."

c.383 BBY: THE HYPERSPACE RUSH

"Independent explorers also race to discover new paths through hyperspace. These prospectors risk their lives in perilous, uncharted corners of the Outer Rim, hoping to find safer, shorter routes. Families like the Grafs and San Tekkas earn great fame and fortune by selling their knowledge of these new hyperlanes."

382 BB The First High Republic book of Phase II

The High Republic: Path of Deceit kicks off the second phase of books, set 150 years before the previous phase.

382 BBY: Battle of Jedha

"The Path of the Open Hand instigates a battle on the sacred moon of Jedha."

232 BBY The First High Republic book of Phase I:

The High Republic: Light of the Jedi, which kicks off the original era of the High Republic (out of universe, not in universe), starting with the Great Hyperspace Disaster where a ship explodes in hyperspace over the planet Hetzal Prime. This ignites an intergalactic conflict with the Nihil that draws the Jedi and the Republic into a massive connected, long-running series of battles against them.

232 BBY:

"Dignitaries and Jedi gather at the Starlight Beacon for its official dedication ceremony."

The Great Hyperspace Disaster (the Legacy Run explodes in hyperspace) happens and the Jedi rush to help mitigate the disaster and evacuate as many people as they can.

"The brave deeds of the Jedi Order [in the Great Hyperspace Disaster] are cast across the galaxy via holotransmissions, making Kriss and her fellow Jedi heroes."

The Emergences: "Though Hetzal has been saved by the heroics of the Jedi, fragments of the Legacy Run continue to threaten the frontier. Fear grips the Outer Rim as blazing wreckage of the ship appears with little warning from hyperspace. As the Republic seeks answers to these Emergences, a group of Jedi stranded in a forgotten corner of space unknowingly cause a far older and more sinister threat to emerge: the Drengir."

"Wreckage from the Legacy Run scatters through hyperspace, endangering the Outer Rim. The first of the Emergences after the Great Hyperspace disaster occurs at Ab Dalis, killing 20 million beings."

"The Nihil strike on Elphrona, intending to ransom well-connected homesteaders and capture a Jedi for Marchion Ro’s evil machinations."

"The Jedi Council votes to join the Republic against the Nihil."

232 BBY: A BEACON OF HOPE

"With the Great Disaster behind them, the Republic and Jedi refocus on the opening of the Starlight Beacon. This towering space station located in the Outer Rim is one of Chancellor Lina Soh’s Great Works, meant to provide a symbol of hope in a dark corner of the galaxy. This shining example of Republic unity and progress serves as a vital base for the ongoing struggles with the Nihil and Drengir."

"One of Chancellor Lina Soh’s Great Works, the Starlight Beacon, begins operation after a dedication ceremony attended by Republic dignitaries and prominent members of the Jedi Order. The station is to be just one of many beacons, serving to connect, inspire, and serve the Republic’s growth in the Galactic Frontier. The Jedi maintain a permanent presence on the station under the leadership of Marshal Kriss and the watchful eye of the exacting Jedi Master Estala Maru."

"Hunting the Nihil - Though it lacks a formal military, the Republic forms a special task force to hunt the Nihil, with Joss and Pikka Adren among the first volunteers."

"The Jedi broker the Ayelina-Ludmere trade agreement."

232 BBY: GROWTH OF THE DRENGIR

"The carnivorous Drengir take root across wide swaths of the frontier. Their lust for living flesh, which they consider “meats,” leads them to attack hundreds of worlds. Defenseless settlers and the Jedi alike struggle to repel these horrifying plantlike creatures."

231 BBY: THE REPUBLIC FAIR

"Chancellor Lina Soh’s next Great Work is a magnificent fair on Valo. Meant to celebrate the Republic and its many achievements, the event turns into a tragedy. The Nihil mount a merciless raid on the fairgoers, destroy the event, and nearly kill the chancellor. The Jedi defenders mount a valiant defense but are outnumbered."

231 BBY: FIGHT FOR THE FRONTIER

"The Jedi march across the frontier as they seek justice for the attack on the Valo fair. With the Drengir threat seemingly settled, they turn their attention to the scattered Nihil forces. The Jedi believe that they are gaining the upper hand, but are unaware of who leads the raiders and their ultimate goal. The Nihil Tempest Runners bear the brunt of the assault while the Eye of the Nihil, Marchion Ro, prepares a new weapon to fight the Jedi."

"The Republic-Togruta Alliance is formed."

230 BBY: FALL OF STARLIGHT

"The Nameless wreak havoc among the Jedi, who fight valiantly in Starlight’s final moments. Master Estala Maru sacrifices his own life to delay the top half of the station from burning up in Eiram’s atmosphere. Below, Master Stellan Gios stays behind to ensure the lower portion will not strike a populated city on the planet’s surface."

"The Jedi recall their members to safety on Coruscant."

"The Republic readies a Defense Coalition fleet to strike at Nihil space. The Jedi, concerned that they cannot yet combat the Nameless, remain on Coruscant."

c.200 BBY:

"Births: Chewbacca— Wookiee hero and copilot born on Kashyyyk."

102 BBY:

"Serenno foundling Dooku’s family abandons him as an infant after discovering his Force abilities. The Jedi bring him to Coruscant to join the Order." (Dooku is born this year.)

Sifo-Dyas was also born in 102 BBY.

86 BBY:

Dooku becomes Yoda’s Padawan.

Sifo-Dyas becomes Lene Kostana’s Padawan.

84 BBY:

Sheev Palpatine is born on Naboo.

c.80 BBY:

Rael Averross becomes Dooku’s Padawan

72 BBY:

Mace Windu is born. (Take with a grain of salt, it's from a De Agostini booklet and never appeared anywhere else that I can find.)

c.70 BBY:

"Averross is knighted and encourages Dooku to take another Padawan."

68 BBY:

Qui-Gon Jinn becomes Dooku’s Padawan.

c.58 BBY:

"After attaining the rank of Jedi Master, Dooku is offered a seat on the Jedi Council."

Qui-Gon becomes a Jedi Knight.

57 BBY:

Obi-Wan Kenobi is born on Stewjon.

54 BBY:

"Obi-Wan Kenobi begins his Jedi training." (Presumably this means he was 3 years old when he was adopted by the Jedi and began his training then.)

52 BBY:

Palpatine is elected Senator of Naboo.

50 BBY:

"The Nightsisters sell Asajj Ventress to Hal’Sted."

46 BBY:

Padme Naberrie is born on Naboo.

44 BBY:

Obi-Wan Kenobi becomes Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan.

"Stranded on remote Rattatak, the Jedi Knight Ky Narec discovers Asajj Ventress and trains her as his Padawan."

c.44 BBY - "Amid concerns about the corrosive effects of dynasties, the Naboo Reformations limit monarchs to a maximum of two two-year terms."

42 BBY:

Rael Averross introduces Dooku to Palpatine.

Dooku leave the Jedi Order and returns to Serenno to reclaim his title.

c.42 BBY: "Civil war engulfs Mandalore, a planet with a proud honor code and a war-torn history. Its clans form factions, with the conflict evolving to pit tradition-minded clan fighters against New Mandalorians who see the warrior past as a dead end."

c.42 BBY: "Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan protect Duchess Satine Kryze during the Mandalorian Civil War. Obi-Wan and Satine fall in love and he offers to leave the Jedi Order to be with her. They decide that their duties won’t allow them to follow their hearts."

c.42 BBY: "The Mandalorian Civil War ends with Satine’s New Mandalorians ascendant, though traditionalists—including Satine’s sister Bo-Katan—organize to resist her rule."

41 BBY:

Anakin Skywalker is born.

"Distant secret Ancient Jedi lore leads Obi-Wan to the Force-imbued planet Lenahra, where he forges a deeper connection with the living Force." (These are the events of the Padawan novel.)

c.41 BBY: "Holiday interrupted While visiting Kashyyyk, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan foil a Trandoshan raid aimed at taking Wookiee prisoners during Life Day celebrations." (These are the events of Star Wars Adventures 2020, issues 3-4. Unclear if this is before or after the novel Padawan.)

40 BBY:

c.40 BBY - Maul becomes Sidious’ apprentice.

Qui-Gon is offered a seat on the Jedi Council. He does not accept by the end of Master and Apprentice.

"Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan visit strategically located Pijal to oversee the signing of a treaty between its monarchy and the Czerka Corporation." (These are the events of the Master and Apprentice novel.)

39 BBY:

c.39 BBY: Sifo-Dyas joins the Jedi High Council.

38 BBY:

c.38 BBY - "Shmi and Anakin Skywalker are brought to Tatooine. Their enslaver, Gardulla the Hutt, soon loses them to Watto in a bet."

37 BBY:

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan mediate a conflict on Bri’n. (Age of Republic - Qui-Gon Jinn #1)

36 BBY:

Orson Krennic and Galen Erso meet.

Ahsoka Tano is born.

34 BBY:

"Mace Windu helps overthrow the warlord Guattako." (These are the events of Age of Republic - Special #1)

"A skilled mechanic, Anakin begins gathering spare parts to build a protocol droid, C-3PO, to help Shmi with household chores."

"Sidious tests Maul on Malachor."

33 BBY:

"Plo Koon discovers a Force-sensitive Togruta toddler named Ahsoka Tano. He brings 'Little ‘Soka' to Coruscant for training."

"Sifo-Dyas orders a secret clone army to be created on Kamino."

"Eager to test his abilities against the Jedi Order, Darth Maul kills the Twi’lek Padawan Eldra Kaitis on Drazkel’s moon." (These are the events of Darth Maul 2017)

Caleb Dume/Kanan Jarrus is born.

32 BBY: THE PHANTOM MENACE

"The former Padmé Naberrie is just 14 when elected and has barely taken office when the Trade Federation blockades and then invades Naboo."

The events of The Phantom Menace take place, the Trade Federation invades Naboo, Valorum sends Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to help Naboo, Anakin Skywalker is adopted into the Jedi Order, Qui-Gon Jinn dies.

"Count Dooku pledges himself to the ways of the Sith, replacing Maul as Sidious’ apprentice and taking the name Darth Tyranus."

"Palpatine is elected supreme chancellor."

"Obi-Wan takes Anakin as his Padawan."

"The Sith take over Sifo-Dyas’ project to create a clone army, ordering inhibitor chips implanted in the clones to ensure their obedience."

"With Sifo-Dyas dead, Dooku takes over the clone project, altering it to serve the Sith’s purpose. In his guise as Tyranus, Dooku recruits the bounty hunter Jango Fett as the genetic template for the Kaminoans’ clone army. He then instructs the Kaminoans to secretly implant inhibitor chips in the clones’ brains to ensure their obedience. The clones will fight for the Republic, but the Sith will be their true masters."

Han Solo is born.

Boba Fett is born.

Yaddle is killed by Dooku.

31 BBY:

"Kuat Drive Yards receives an order from a secret buyer to create massive numbers of warships and weapons."

30 BBY:

"Sidious’ minions begin constructing a massive Observatory on Jakku, the first of several built as part of the Sith Lord’s decades-spanning Contingency project. As Palpatine, Sidious orders the secret establishment of bases, shipyards, and colonies in the galaxy’s Unknown Regions."

29 BBY:

c.29 BBY: "Anakin seeks out his first kyber crystal on Ilum and creates a lightsaber, an important step in his Padawan training."

"Anakin goes on a mission in Coruscant’s underlevels with a disguised Chancellor Palpatine, whom he comes to see as a mentor."

"Influenced by Palpatine, Anakin tells Obi-Wan he wishes to suspend his Jedi training and surrenders his lightsaber. With Anakin’s path undecided, Yoda sends him and Obi-Wan to Carnelion IV to investigate a distress signal. [Eventually] Anakin decides to remain Obi-Wan’s Padawan." (These are the events of Obi-Wan & Anakin 2016)

Hera Syndulla is born.

28 BBY:

Queen Amidala's final year as Queen of Naboo, where her successor, Queen Réillata, asks her to be Senator for Naboo and Padme agrees, taking office that year.

"Remembering her experience after fleeing Naboo, Padmé sends Sabé on a mission to investigate how to end slavery on Tatooine." (This ultimately doesn't really go anywhere/accomplish much, unfortunately.)

"Padmé becomes friends with two young fellow senators: Rush Clovis of Scipio and Mina Bonteri of Raxus." (These are the events of Queen's Shadow.)

c.28 BBY: "Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent to retrieve a Holocron from Dallenor, leading to a confrontation with the Krypder Riders." (These are the events of Age of Republic - Obi-Wan Kenobi #1.)

27 BBY:

c.27 BBY: "Cliegg Lars buys Shmi Skywalker’s freedom from Watto. They marry and live on Cliegg’s moisture farm."

26 BBY:

"While on a mission to Sullust, Dooku kills the Jedi Knight Jak’zin and forces the Kaldana Syndicate to serve Sidious’ interests." (These are the events of Age of the Republic - Count Dooku #1.)

"Obi-Wan and Anakin rescue Yoda from raiders on Glee Anselm, but discover the incident was actually a test engineered by the Jedi Council [to help them get along better]." (These are the events of Choose Your Destiny: An Obi-Wan & Anakin Adventure.)

24 BBY:

c.24 BBY - "Dooku founds the Confederacy of Independent Systems, attracting planets that wish to secede from the Republic and beginning the Separatist Movement."

"The Senate passes the Emergency Powers Act, allowing Palpatine to remain in office for the duration of the Separatist Crisis."

"Palpatine forms the Loyalist Committee to advise him during the Separatist Crisis. Senators belonging to the committee include Bail Organa of Alderaan, Padmé Amidala of Naboo, Ask Aak of Malastare, and Orn Free Taa of Ryloth."

"The Senate begins debating the Military Creation Act, which would allow the Republic to create military forces for its defense."

"Adrift after the death of Ky Narec, a grief-stricken Asajj Ventress embraces the dark side and becomes a warlord on Rattatak."

"Osika Kirske imprisons Ventress on Rattatak, forcing her to fight as a gladiator. Dooku frees her and offers to make her his apprentice in hopes of one day supplanting Sidious. Ventress agrees to serve as the count’s agent and assassin." (These are part of the events of Dooku: Jedi Lost.)

22 BBY–19 BBY: The Clone Wars

"A political crisis propels the Jedi Order into a galaxy-wide war against the Separatists, secretly led by the Sith."

22 BBY: ATTACK OF THE CLONES:

"Obi-Wan and Anakin help defuse a crisis on Ansion." (Mentioned in Attack of the Clones: "He's just returned from a border dispute on Ansion," Mace says of Obi-Wan.)

The events of Attack of the Clones take place, Padme is attacked for her stance against the Military Creation Act in the Senate, Jar Jar introduces a motion to give Palpatine emergency powers as Chancellor, including the discovery of the clone army, Shmi Skywalker dies, Obi-Wan and Anakin and Padme are held captive by the Separatists and rescued by the Jedi, many who die in the arena, as well as Jango Fett dies, and the start of the Clone Wars.

Anakin and Padme are secretly married on Naboo.

Poggle the Lesser gives the Death Star plans to Dooku.

The Clone Wars begin on Geonosis.

22 BBY: THE CLONE WARS:

"Mace Windu leads a Jedi mission to Hissrich. As a member of Windu’s team, Jedi Prosset Dibs accuses the Order of wanting Hissrich for the Republic. He duels Windu and is defeated. Dibs is found guilty of treason and confined to the Jedi Archives in hopes that he’ll find his way back to the light." (These are the events of Jedi of the Republic - Mace Windu.)

"Padmé and Captain Typho help Sticks’ squad of clone troopers free Separatist hostages on the embattled planet Hebekrr Minor." (These are the events of Queen's Hope.)

"Anakin becomes a Jedi Knight."

"Obi-Wan becomes a Jedi Master and is elevated to the Jedi Council."

"Obi-Wan investigates a bombing on Cato Neimoidia and discovers the attack bears the hallmarks of both a Republic and Separatist operation. He brings this disquieting hint that someone is manipulating both sides of the war back to Coruscant. Anakin duels Ventress on Cato Neimoidia." (These are the events of Brotherhood.)

"Captain Rex, formally designated CT-7567, is assigned to Anakin Skywalker, who saves his life during the Battle of Arantara. A mutual respect soon blossoms between the brash, bold young Jedi general and the sturdy, by-the-book clone officer."

"Anakin’s troops run afoul of hostile wildlife while searching for Separatist forces on Benglor." (These are the events of Star Wars Adventures: The Clone Wars – Battle Tales #1.)

"The Techno Union’s Wat Tambor destroys the Nexus trading post on Quarmendy to keep Plo Koon’s troops from reclaiming it." (These are the events of Star Wars Adventures: The Clone Wars – Battle Tales #2.)

"Yoda assigns Ahsoka Tano to Anakin as his Padawan, hoping to teach Skywalker how to let go of his emotional attachments."

"The Separatist battlecruiser Malevolence terrorizes the galaxy’s inner systems before it is tracked and destroyed at the Dead Moon of Antar."

21 BBY: THE CLONE WARS:

"The Republic invades Geonosis for a second time to destroy a dangerous new droid foundry constructed by Poggle the Lesser."

"Padmé and Jar Jar discover a bioweapons lab in Naboo’s swamps and must stop Nuvo Vindi from releasing the Blue Shadow Virus."

"General Grievous and Asajj Ventress lead a Separatist invasion on Kamino, with the Republic’s clones fiercely defending their birthworld."

"Sabine Wren is born on Mandalore but raised on neighboring Krownest."

20 BBY: THE CLONE WARS:

"Anakin experiences a disturbing vision of his future in the Force realm known as Mortis and must make a wrenching decision."

"The Republic defends Mon Cala during a Separatist-engineered civil war between the Mon Calamari and the Quarren."

"Republic forces suffer heavy casualties while storming Umbara, a strategically located world with advanced technology that has become a Separatist stronghold."

"Maul returns from exile, bent on obtaining revenge against the long list of those he believes have wronged him."

19 BBY: THE CLONE WARS:

"Maul forms the Shadow Collective, forging several of the galaxy’s crime syndicates into a single underworld organization under his leadership."

"Mandalore’s Duchess Satine Kryze is overthrown by Death Watch’s Pre Vizsla, whose own rule is quickly ended by Maul. Maul has manipulated events to bring Obi-Wan to Mandalore, and now has the hated Jedi at his mercy. He strikes Satine down in the throne room."

"Responding to a disturbance in the Force, Darth Sidious arrives on Mandalore. Maul swears fealty to his old master, but Sidious rejects him. He kills Savage, blasts Maul with lightning, and takes his former apprentice prisoner."

"Anakin and Ahsoka return from Cato Neimoidia to investigate a bombing at the Jedi Temple amid rumors that a Jedi was involved."

"Ahsoka is expelled from the Jedi Order, which believes her guilty of the Temple bombing. She is then arrested by the Republic and prosecuted by Admiral Tarkin before a military tribunal, with Palpatine presiding and Padmé representing the defense. [She] leaves the Jedi Order."

"During the Battle of Ringo Vinda, the clone trooper Tup turns his blaster on Jedi General Tiplar, forcing a Republic retreat. Fives and AZI-3 discover a tumor in Tup’s brain. He dies after its extraction. Palpatine and Nala Se insist the tumor be sent to a Republic medical facility, but Shaak Ti decides it must go to the Jedi Temple first. Kix helps Fives arrange a meeting with Anakin and Rex. Fives tells them about the inhibitor chips and the plot against the Jedi, but his story sounds like a paranoid conspiracy and he becomes agitated. Commander Fox and clone troopers arrive, sent by Palpatine, and try to arrest Fives. When Fives resists, Fox shoots him dead. Tup’s action is blamed on a parasitic infection, and the inhibitor chips are delivered to Dooku."

"Padmé travels to Scipio to expedite a Banking Clan loan for the Republic and discovers Rush Clovis is serving as their representative. The Banking Clan is dissolved and Palpatine takes over its holdings."

"Plo Koon discovers the crash site of Sifo-Dyas’ ship, prompting the Council to investigate the Jedi’s long-ago disappearance."

"On Oba Diah, spice kingpin Lom Pyke tells Anakin and Obi-Wan that the Pykes were paid by Tyranus to kill Sifo-Dyas. Dooku arrives and is identified as Tyranus. He kills the Pyke leader and duels with Anakin, but escapes."

"The Jedi are disturbed to learn Dooku was responsible for the creation of the clone army, but decide to keep this revelation secret."

"Yoda obeys Qui-Gon’s voice and travels to Dagobah, where Qui-Gon’s spirit tells him to learn how to retain his identity after death."

"Anakin teams up with a mysterious Chiss military officer, Thrawn, to locate Padmé and destroy a cortosis mine." [Thrawn: Alliances]

"Yoda helps Kashyyyk’s Wookiees defend their planet against Separatist raiders, earning the honor 'Defender of the Home Tree.'"

"Mandalorian commandos free Maul from Stygeon Prime. Sidious and Dooku allow him to escape in hopes of drawing out Mother Talzin. Maul lures Grievous and Dooku into a confrontation on Ord Mantell and takes them both prisoner—a dangerous gambit of Talzin’s aimed at luring her old enemy Sidious into the fight. Grievous and Sidious come to Dooku’s aid on Dathomir. Grievous kills Mother Talzin and the Mandalorians drag Maul away to safety."

- "Ventress asks the Jedi to help abduct Vos from Dooku’s service in hopes of saving him. Vos returns to the Jedi, claiming his turn to the dark side was a ruse. But his true loyalties are unclear. Vos defeats Dooku on Christophsis, but agrees to join him to defeat Sidious. His secret hope is to kill both Sith Lords. Ventress confronts Vos and Dooku, saving Quinlan before Dooku attacks her with a devastating blast of lightning. The count escapes. Vos and Obi-Wan return Ventress to the waters of Dathomir. [Ventress dies.]"

"Having left the Jedi Order, Ahsoka befriends Trace Martez, a mechanic in the Coruscant underlevels, and her sister Rafa. Ahsoka discovers the Pykes are working for Maul, who is on Mandalore. She uses the Force to escape with the Martez sisters, and the Pykes conclude they were targeted by the Jedi. Ahsoka returns to Coruscant, where Bo-Katan Kryze recruits her to fight Maul."

"Separatists commanded by Admiral Trench invade the Republic stronghold of Anaxes and repeatedly defeat clone counterattacks. Rex is disturbed that the Separatists seem to be adapting rapidly to his strategies and suspects Trench is using some new combat algorithm. He proposes raiding the Separatists’ cyber center to discover their secret. The mission succeeds with assistance from an unorthodox unit of genetically altered clones known as the Bad Batch."

"Anakin joins Rex’s clones and the Bad Batch to raid the Techno Union’s facility on Skako Minor, fighting their way through Wat Tambor’s droid legions. They discover Echo confined in a stasis chamber and hooked up to Separatist computers. Anakin confronts Trench to obtain the rest of the sequence to disarm the bomb, saving Anaxes. He then kills the admiral. Echo joins the Bad Batch."

"Grievous launches a Separatist counteroffensive. The Republic sends Aayla Secura to Felucia and Plo Koon to Cato Neimoidia to hold the line."

"Obi-Wan and Anakin rout Separatist forces on Yerbana. ["Old Friends Not Forgotten"] Ahsoka and Bo-Katan approach the Jedi to propose a joint mission to capture Maul and free Mandalore from his crime syndicate. The Jedi agree and split the 501st in two, with Rex leading troops under Ahsoka’s command."

"A Separatist armada launches a sneak attack on Coruscant, hammering the Republic warships of the Coruscant Home Defense Fleet. Grievous ambushes Palpatine in the Federal District, killing Roron Corobb and knocking Shaak Ti unconscious, then kidnapping the chancellor. The Open Circle Fleet arrives from Yerbana."

19 BBY: REVENGE OF THE SITH:

"Anakin and Obi-Wan fly through the titanic space battle, dodging salvos of laser fire exchanged by Republic and Separatist capital ships in an effort to reach the Invisible Hand, where Palpatine is being held. With the Separatists cut off from their jump point, the battle degenerates into a brutal slugging match, with ships burning up in orbit and debris raining down upon the Coruscant cityscape below. Anakin and Obi-Wan rescue Palpatine above Coruscant. Anakin kills Dooku and Sidious plots to make the Jedi his new apprentice."

"Grievous retreats to Utapau, where the Separatist Council is in hiding. Sidious orders him to relocate the Separatist leaders to Mustafar."

"On Mandalore, Republic forces take the docks of the capital, Sundari. Prime Minister Almec orders Gar Saxon to retreat into the undercity. Bo-Katan’s commandos capture Almec. Ahsoka confronts Maul in the undercity. He is disappointed to see her, having hoped to lure Obi-Wan into his trap."

"Anakin dreams of Padmé’s death in childbirth. Palpatine appoints Anakin to the Jedi Council as his personal representative, to the alarm of Yoda and Mace Windu."

"Bail Organa meets secretly with Padmé, Mon Mothma, and other senators determined to resist Palpatine if he doesn’t surrender his wartime powers."

"Yoda heads to Kashyyyk to bolster its defense."

"On Maul’s command, Saxon shoots Almec before Ahsoka can finish questioning him, then makes his getaway."

"At Coruscant’s Galaxies Opera House, Palpatine plays on Anakin’s anger and doubt about the Jedi’s integrity, guessing that they asked him to be their spy. He tells Anakin the story of Darth Plagueis, a Sith Lord who could save people from dying. Anakin, fearful his nightmares are a premonition of Padmé’s fate, is intrigued—particularly when Palpatine tells him it is not a power that can be learned from the Jedi."

"Obi-Wan travels to Utapau to hunt for Grievous."

"Clone troopers, Bo-Katan’s commandos, and Saxon’s warriors battle in the streets of Sundari, with the Republic’s forces winning the day."

"Ahsoka confronts Maul again, who tells her Sidious is behind everything and Anakin is the key to destroying the Sith. Maul reveals that he had hoped to lure Obi-Wan and Anakin to Mandalore in order to kill Anakin, so Sidious could not take the Jedi as his new apprentice. Ahsoka and Maul duel. Maul is captured by Rex’s clones, with Saxon apprehended as well."

"On Utapau, Obi-Wan confronts Grievous. He duels the Separatist warlord and then chases him through the city’s winding tunnels and warrens."

"Palpatine reveals his true identity to Anakin and begs him to use his knowledge to save Padmé. Anakin vows to turn him over to the Jedi."

"Obi-Wan corners Grievous in a hangar on Utapau and kills the mechanical monster with a shot from a blaster."

"Imprisoned in a device that prevents him from using the Force, Maul is brought aboard a Jedi Cruiser destined for Coruscant, escorted by Ahsoka."

"Told of Palpatine’s identity, Windu orders Anakin to wait at the Jedi Temple while he arrests Sidious with Kit Fisto, Agen Kolar, and Saesee Tiin. Sidious kills Tiin, Fisto, and Kolar and duels Windu. He attacks Mace using lightning, which the Jedi Master deflects back at Sidious. Anakin arrives and pleads that Sidious be allowed to stand trial, but Windu says he’s too dangerous to be spared. Anakin makes a fateful decision, stopping Windu’s attack by severing his hand. Sidious blasts Windu with lightning, sending him through the broken window. Anakin pledges allegiance to Sidious, who grants him the name Darth Vader. He tells Anakin to go to the Jedi Temple and kill everyone there—that will make him strong enough with the dark side to save Padmé."

"Ahsoka and Maul sense a strong disturbance in the Force."

19 BBY: ORDER 66

"Sidious issues Order 66. Clone troopers across the galaxy obey their inhibitor chips and attack the Jedi, decimating the Order."

"Commander Cody targets Obi-Wan Kenobi on Utapau. The Jedi survives the attack, escapes offworld, and is rescued by Senator Organa. Aboard the Jedi Cruiser Tribunal, Rex manages to tell Ahsoka to “find Fives” before trying to kill her. She evades Rex’s fire and flees from his troopers. Commander Grey and his clone battalion execute Depa Billaba on Kaller. oda avoids death by killing Commander Gree and Captain Jek, and then escapes Kashyyyk with help from Chewbacca and Tarfful. On a Jedi Cruiser above Bracca, Jaro Tapal is cut down by clones from the 13th battalion, sabotaging the warship before he dies. Captain Jag downs Plo Koon’s starfighter during a patrol flight on contested Cato Neimoidia. Ki-Adi-Mundi is cut down by Commander Bacara’s Galactic Marines during infantry maneuvers on Mygeeto. Luminara Unduli is captured on Kashyyyk. After her execution, the Inquisitors spread rumors of her survival to ensnare other fugitive Jedi. Stass Allie is blasted by Commander Neyo while flying BARC speeders in a mop-up operation on Saleucami. Commander Bly gives the order to shoot Aayla Secura amid Felucia’s colorful fungi."

"Ahsoka prevents other clones from killing the imprisoned Maul. She releases him to create a diversion. While Maul wreaks havoc aboard the Tribunal, Ahsoka activates a trio of astromechs to help her evade Rex’s troops. Ahsoka locates Fives’ records, learning what happened to him and that Rex suspected the clones’ inhibitor chips have some ulterior purpose. Ahsoka subdues Rex and removes his inhibitor chip. Maul destroys the Tribunal’s hyperdrive, sending the doomed Jedi Cruiser careening toward the surface of a remote moon."

"Bail Organa arrives at the Jedi Temple to investigate the uprising and is confronted by clone troopers. He retreats under fire."

"Anakin, now known as Darth Vader and backed by the 501st Legion, marches on the Jedi Temple and slaughters its defenders. He shows no mercy, believing that the dark side is the only pathway to the unnatural powers he must command to save Padmé. As his rage and lust for power swell, not even younglings hiding in the Jedi Council chambers are safe from his lightsaber. Elsewhere, young Grogu survives a clone trooper attack but is haunted by his memories of the event."

"Anakin obeys Sidious’ command and kills the Separatist leaders on Mustafar, shutting down their droid armies and ending the Clone Wars."

"The Senate holds a special session, during which Palpatine—now scarred after his battle with Mace—details the Jedi plot to kill him and take control of the Senate. He proclaims the Republic is to be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire."

"Obi-Wan and Yoda fight their way into the Jedi Temple and recalibrate a signal to warn any surviving Jedi away."

"Padmé arrives on Mustafar, unknowingly bringing along Obi-Wan as a stowaway. Anakin uses the Force to choke her. As C-3PO and R2-D2 tend to Padmé, Anakin and Obi-Wan fight a running duel through the lava flows of Mustafar’s mining complex."

"On Coruscant, Yoda confronts Sidious and the two duel in the Senate Chamber, with Sidious hurling Senate pods at his Jedi enemy. Ascendant with dark-side power, Sidious proves too tough a foe for Yoda, who flees their duel, evading clone troopers sent to hunt him, and is whisked away by Bail Organa in an airspeeder. Sidious senses his new apprentice is in danger and hurries to Mustafar."

"Anakin is left maimed and burned after dueling Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Obi-Wan takes Anakin’s lightsaber and leaves him to die. Anakin survives and is encased in life-preserving black armor. As Darth Vader, he becomes the subject of rumors as the Emperor’s servant and enforcer"

Padme gives birth to Luke and Leia, then she dies. Bail Organa takes Leia to Alderaan and Obi-Wan takes Luke to the Lars' farm on Tatooine, going into exile there, while Yoda is on Dagobah.

"Ahsoka and Rex bury the clones at the Tribunal’s crash site. She leaves her lightsaber behind to find a new path."

19 BBY: GALAXY IN DARKNESS

"Tarkin tells Lama Su that the Kaminoans’ contracts are void and the need for future clones is being questioned."

"Padmé, appearing to still be pregnant, is laid to rest after a solemn funeral procession on Naboo."

"Mas Amedda presides at an Imperial rally held before Coruscant’s Jedi Temple to celebrate the defeat of the Order."

"Sidious abandons Vader on the desert planet Gattering with orders to seize a Jedi’s lightsaber and make it his own. Vader travels to a dark-side locus on Mustafar and bends Infil’a’s kyber crystal to his will, making it bleed red. By compelling the Force to serve his purposes, Vader takes an essential step in his journey as a Sith."

"Sidious puts Vader in charge of the Inquisitors, Force users who once served the light but were seduced or brutalized into following the dark side and are now responsible for hunting down and killing the galaxy’s fugitive Jedi. Vader proves a ruthless taskmaster, brutalizing his new underlings in combat training sessions and eliminating those who fail to live up to the standards demanded by him and the Emperor."

"Sidious orders Vader to lure the Jedi Order’s fugitive archivist Jocasta Nu to Coruscant’s Jedi Temple and capture her. An enraged Vader kills Commander Fox after clone troopers under his command fire on the Sith Lord at the Jedi Temple. Nu explains to Vader what he’s failed to realize: Sidious wants the memory crystal and its list so he can find a potential replacement for his apprentice. Vader kills Nu, tells Sidious she died trying to escape, and crushes the crystal."

"The Empire builds up its forces and begins enlisting and training conscript stormtroopers to replace the Republic’s clone soldiers."

"The Empire bombards Kamino’s cities, destroying all traces of the cloning program that played a critical role in the Clone Wars."

SOURCES & NOTES:

Star Wars Timelines by Kristin Baver, Jason Fry, Cole Horton, Amy Richau, and Clayton Sandell is the primary source for much of this, anything in quotation marks is sourced from here unless otherwise noted. This timeline is only quoting a small minority of what's available in the book, so it's recommended that you check it out for yourselves!

I have done my best to put everything in order even within the specific years, noting where I'm not 100% sure of the sequence of events.

If a "c.[YEAR]" is included, the spot is estimated, not hard fact, but in general it's a pretty trustworthy placement! Except for birthdays--they're not placed directly on the timeline, so I just kind of threw them in at the end most times.

Observation: Holy crap, the Clone Wars was NUTS.

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #yoda #ahsoka tano #count dooku #mace windu #qui gon jinn #jedi order #meta #reference #resource #timeline #long post

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ahhhwomen · 2 months

Text

I don’t know why I bite.

Vampire Empire

Part 1

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: We are going to ignore how long I disappeared, okay thank you. Also, y/n will not be in a proper relationship with the girls, she will very much be viewed and treated like a pet not a partner, but she will obvi still get the love.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death (later on)Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Your Master is a cruel woman, but you would never stand a chance against her, but what if they can?

Word Count: 3.5k

The keys jingle in a pattern.

With each step, the clash of metal calls out. It changes tune, depending on the day. If she’s tired, she drags her feet, it’s a slower melody. When she’s angry, there is a harshness to the smashing of the chain against her belt and a thud to her heavy boots.

You don’t know what her happy steps are, you think the sound would be smooth. Maybe, like she´s floating?

You wonder if you are ever going to hear it? If you are being honest with yourself, you don’t really know if you want to. At least her other behaviors are predictable, you can handle predictable, uncertainty however, that is an entirely different game. Not one you are very keen on playing.

Today, her steps boom like thunder, and her keys shriek like lighting.

Chills run down your spine; you press against the cold concrete wall. It scratches your skin. You press harder and cower closer.

You are shaking as she sweeps around the corner of your prison; she’s frowning today.

But…?

It hurts.

From yesterday. It still hurts.

She always gives you a day.

It still hurts.

You need a day.

It doesn't matter. You know you can’t stop it.

You close your eyes and submerge yourself in the void. You don’t like the dark, but she doesn't like it when you see.

Your cage opens with a shriek. You flinch as she touches your face, she is breathing down your neck and you feel yourself panic as she struggles with your collar.

It's never good when she takes away your collar.

Before you do something stupid, like fight back, a soothing voice guides you. It’s a whisper, that only you can hear. Drag in slow breaths, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Rinse and repeat. You do as they tell you.

You're in a sunflower field.

The heavy feeling in your stomach is from the big dinner you had, half an hour earlier.

The sun is setting, and you are smiling and laughing as you run through the field of flowers. They're ginormous, almost bigger than you. There is a weight to them as you push past. They scratch and irritate, but it's only temporary, so you keep laughing to yourself.

There is a whip to the wind, the sound loud and frightening. The flowers are louder, so you pretend not to hear. They rustle and dance in the harsh wind.

It's dark, but the yellow glow of plant life guides you. You don’t know where you are running to, maybe home, maybe the ocean. It matters not. You are happy, just you and the flowers.

When the wind calms and the sun peaks over the horizon you know it’s time to leave.

You trek through the soil and ignore the sharp stones that prick your pale skin, you wish you could stay, but it’s time to return.

You open your eyes when she leaves. She almost killed you today.

It's okay.

You deserved it.

Tomorrow, you rest.

Maybe.

Natasha smirks over the rim of her whisky glass. One would think the blonde would be professional after almost a century of doing business, yet she still stomps around like a child throwing a tantrum when she doesn't get it her way. The redhead almost feels bad for the poor pet that was going to be at the end of Carol's rath tonight, almost.

“Knock, knock.” Wanda stands in the doorway, her knuckles lightly tapping against the dark oak.

She’s dressed modern today. Her suit is fitted to perfection, it hugs her waist and expands her hips. She also went for a smokey makeup look, her eyeshadow a mix of dark brown and black, her lips a deep amber, just like her suit.

If attraction could kill Natasha would be one dead woman.

She smiles at her wife before signaling her in with a wave. She’s surprised to see Wanda, her wife comes by occasionally, and she has always dressed nicely, but this is new. Due to her desk stealing her view, Natasha can't see, but she can hear her wife's high heels as she passes through the threshold. Same color as the suit she imagines.

“What brings you here?” Natasha questions as she pours her wife a drink.

Wanda settles herself in the plush chair in front of her wife before bothering to answer. “Do I need a reason lovely? Maybe I just want to see my beautiful wife in her place of work.” Wanda grins while the other redhead hands her a glass of whiskey. Neat, just how she likes it.

Natasha scans her wife with suspicion, she wants something. She can tell by the way Wanda leans her body slightly to the left while her lips lift into a flirtatious half-smirk.

The shorter redhead lifts her eyebrow. “As nice as that may be, why are you really here?”

Wanda deflates slightly at her wife’s accusatory tone. She is right, of course, but Wanda was hoping she could butter her up a little before getting to that. Wanda will have to ask her out on a date soon and make herself a little less predictable.

She is ashamed to say it's been a while since their last dinner date, or movie night for that matter. However, it's hard to find the time when you have been married since the eighteen hundreds, and you both work more than any human would be capable of.

Which brings her to her point.

Wanda pulls in a breath, “I want a pet.”

Before Natasha can get a word in Wanda continues to ramble all in the same breath, “And I know, I know, we have already gone over this. But I'm lonely. The business has been slow since the Stark clan agreed to our peace offering. And while you are busy here, I want someone to come home too.” Wanda keeps her tone open and light.

She wasn’t here to accuse her wife of not giving her enough attention, they both knew that their different work would keep them apart, but while Wanda would spend long nights in her home office, Natasha would spend them in her company office on the other side of the city.

Natasha drums her fingers sharply against her desk, she wants to shut the idea down immediately.

Having a frail human pet would mean having a weakness. Natasha knows her wife well. She knows her wife will get attached, and she knows it will never end well for either of them.

On the other hand, she understands her wife's needs. Natasha spends most of her days in the office, working to uphold their cover, while Wanda spends her days all over the city settling their other business. Their schedules never align either, Natasha works days, Wanda nights. She has to admit, it doesn't sound half bad to have someone to come home to the few nights she can afford it.

Wanda is waiting with bated breath as her wife concludes.

“You have already set up the meet, haven’t you?”

Wanda gapes slightly but conceals it before her wife sees. She knows her too well indeed.

She slumps into her chair, “Yes.” She lifts her finger to stop Natasha from commenting, “In my defense, I was coming here to get your approval.” Natasha chuckles to herself.

“And if you didn’t get it your way?”

Wanda smiles bashfully, “Then I would go without you.” Natasha has to blink away tears from how hard she laughs, she is gripping her stomach, wheezing while answering, “I would expect nothing less my love.” She rights her posture and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She glances at her wife hiding her blush behind luscious red locks.

She can never say no to her.

Clapping her hands together, she responds. “Fine, you win.”

Wanda practically shines with mirth and joy, “But,” her companion eyes her carefully, nodding to confirm she´s listening. “I get to pick the name that goes on her collar.”

The other redhead huffs, “Fine, but it better not be something stupid.”

Natasha shrugs and her wife leans over the table to slap her shoulder in warning. Natasha smiles all the same and shakes her head, “Yeah, yeah, nothing dumb.” As much fun as she is having with this, she is a busy woman.

She runs her hands down her black suit, thinks of what paperwork to finish, and mumbles a question about when they need to leave while sorting through the latest update about their progress on Project X. Wanda, without missing a beat, states a simple, “Now.”

Nat drops her pen and pinches the skin between her eyebrows. Wanda shrugs half apologetically as Natasha fixes her with a hard glare.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grumbles a short, “Right, we better get going then.”

It's been almost a decade since she has set foot in one of these shitholes. Nothing has changed, the cages are just as small, and the odor stinks the same, alcohol, blood, and fear.

Wanda shifts uncomfortably as they wait for the salesman to get his spreadsheet, Natasha silently watches from the sideline as he sorts through a mess of paper and fast-food containers to find what he is looking for. She chastises Wanda for not finding a better establishment. Back in their time, this was the usual, but nowadays they have far better alternatives.

Wanda leans against Natasha to whisper, “It was the only place by a few miles Tash, and it’s the only place we have time for.” Natasha stays unimpressed. Wanda smirks at her wife and tucks a strand of loose hair behind the other redhead's ear before discreetly licking the shell of it and whispering sweetly, “I will make it up to you.” Natasha shivers under the attention and the salesman grunts a weak, “found it” before leading them into the main hall.

The ocean swishes in the background as you lie on your blue, shark-themed blanket in your modern bikini. The sun gleams over your head. Your skin stings and you shift onto your stomach, you must have forgotten sunscreen again.

Nonetheless, you purr under the shine of good weather; you wish you had taken a book with you. Maybe next time. For now, you stretch out and lay your bare arms against the warm sand. It will be stuck in every crevice, but it's nice.

A light breeze passes you.

You suck in a big breath, it burns, but you ignore it. It smells of salt and….. salt… and….?

Ice-cream.

It smells of salt and ice cream.

You think you may stay for a while today. You might visit tomorrow, but you would rather not.

If it doesn't burn too much, you hope to sleep tomorrow through. After all, if you are really lucky, you may not wake up again.

This place is even more depressing than Wanda had anticipated.

She and the other redhead had been to a similar place a few decades ago, but this was just sad. Not even the potent scent of blood can get her to ignore the uncomfortable sound of churning, empty, stomachs.

If they lived in a different city she would have taken her wife to a more humane operation, but with limited time comes limited opportunity.

The male and female sections are separate, in the left hall she can smell the odor of young men eager to please, while in this hall she can see the curious and smell the fearful. The gruff man showing them around had introduced them to a few pets by now, but she had to admit they were not what she was hoping for.

There had been one pet she took a slight liking to; a young woman, in her mid-twenties, she was in the puppy section, an enthusiastic little thing. But in the end, she was a little too pushy for Wanda’s liking, Natasha hadn’t seemed too keen either, so they left it there.

The kitten section wasn’t too bad, but every time she thought she was building a connection, Natasha would step into the pet's line of sight and they would cower away one by one. She knows her wife is putting on a stern face to test the poor little things, but it was starting to piss her off big time.

Wanda rolls her eyes as the feeble man struggles with yet another lock, she lifts her suit jacket and checks the expensive gold watch ticking away, fifteen more minutes or they will have to come back another time. Given that this was the only available time she and Nat had had in a few weeks the dire truth of not getting a pet today was settling in.

“Here she is, now she's not much to look at, but since you wanted to see them all,” the man shrugs and Wanda has half the mind to bite his head off. Before she can do anything of the sort Natasha takes her by surprise by stepping into the cage before her.

Nat ignores her wife as she steps into your cage, she has seen you before.

You were Carol's pet, or at least she thought you were. But it seems you were a less permanent part of the blonde’s life. Your cage was different, it was slightly bigger, the poorly dressed man had said something earlier about you being a leased pet.

You look horrible. She is studying you from a few feet away and she can still see the horrors you must have been through.

She knows Carol is violent, it's why she has spent so long trying to negotiate with blondie. Their clans were never on the same page and yes, threats were constantly made, but this was something else. Natasha would never think the pathetic woman would do this just because she could.

She hears Wanda step in and gasp at the sight of you.

You are lying on the hard floor with your back turned to them, a rag the size of a hand towel barely covering your bottom. Your hands are stretched out under the lamp, the only heat source you have, you have been beaten to a pulp. There are deep lacerations covering you, your entire body is one big bruise, and dried blood covers every crevice of both your skin and even part of the walls. But that was not what caught either of their attention, no, it was the lack of life they could sense from you.

Natasha kneels a few feet away from you and studies you carefully. Her hand rests against her cheek as she tries to focus on your heartbeat. It beats, but there was something off about it. It's slow like you are asleep, but she can hear in your breathing that you are still conscious.

She tilts her head and talks off-handedly at the man behind her.

“Is she sick?” She hears him scoff but ignores it in favor of closing her eyes and trying to feel you.

“Of course not-“ He waves his hand, “all that,” he gestures at your body, “was her own fault.”

Before Natasha has time to reprimand the pig, she hears a crunch behind her followed by a heavy thud.

She huffs and raises herself slowly before opening her eyes and looking at her wife with her peripheral vision. “I thought we agreed to not kill anyone today.”

Wanda stares at her with empty eyes. “No. We agreed on not killing any innocent people tonight. As far as I am concerned, I am just following his logic, after all this was all his fault.” Wanda gestures at the dead man's body.

Natasha turns to her wife while rolling her eyes.

Wanda ignores her wife's sass and looks past her to take you in once more. “Who is she?”

Natasha shrugs and gazes at you over her shoulder. “She was Carol´s plaything, but I guess Carol never owned her like I thought.” Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise and stared at Nat, “That’s y/n?”. Her eyes move down to you again, “last time I saw her she sure as hell didn’t look like that.”

Natasha nods and crosses her arms in thought, “well it seems Carol is an even worse owner than she is a negotiator.”

The last time Wanda had seen you was when she joined one of Natasha’s meetings a few months ago, you were a new thing back then. You had scars, but they were pink and healed, you were a skittish little thing, but you ate, you had some color to you, and you sure as hell didn’t feel like this.

You could feel their eyes all over your body. You hated it, you never liked it when people looked too hard or thought too long, it always meant the same thing. They were assessing whether or not you are a feasible option as a pet. You know you aren’t, you know they will scoff and turn their backs to you as if you disgust them, like you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as them.

You get it though, they are probably right.

Usually, such a thing wouldn’t bother you, you are used to it by now, but there was something about their scents that put you off, you felt out of place even more than usual, and you hated it.

You were too focused on pretending to be asleep to assess what the heavy thud against the concrete could have been.

Whatever it was, must have had something breakable inside of it as you could hear a clear crack as something bounced off the floor. You decided you didn’t care, you only cared about the sudden voice that took over all the space of your enclosure. Powerful enough to command any and every room, you know this voice. It belongs to one Natasha Romanoff, and suddenly the voice behind her made sense too. You had only seen the redhead once, but you would remember her anywhere, just as commanding as her wife, and even more scary, Wanda Maximoff.

If you weren’t scared before, you were positively shitting your nonexistent pants now.

You try to keep your breathing even so as to not show any hint of awareness, you have no idea what they could be doing here. Had Master sent them? Were these the last moments you would have, were you going to die in this tiny, claustrophobic hellhole?

You were panicking, and you know they can sense it. Feel it. No matter how many times Master called you such, you weren’t an idiot. You know what they are, you know what they can do, what they will do.

As you hear one of them take a step closer you turn into a stiff board. You stay completely still as you feel your lungs start resisting the air you desperately try to force into them, you have this sudden need to flee or to bear your neck and beg for them to finish it quickly. Right after the thought passes your mind you shrink in shame, Master will kill you for ever thinking of bearing your neck to another.

You can hear them pause for a moment as you feel their eyes on you again. You have been made.

You don’t know what comes over you, you don’t know where you suddenly find the strength, but before you even know what you are doing you are leaping towards the women, your hands ready to claw out their eyes if need be.

You know they are stronger, faster, and smarter than you could ever wish to be, but this is a survival instinct, nothing makes sense, nothing matters. And as you collide into a warm body and start ripping into it, to the best of your ability, you realize, you have no idea what you are doing.

Natasha knew what you were about to do, possibly before you, and as you crashed into her and started scratching and ripping at anything you could get your hands on, she realized that maybe you still have a chance at this life. For the first time during their little visit, she can feel something in you, it’s small, scared, abused, but there is a will there, a will to live, a will to fight. That is more than most in this bleak city.

She holds you gently as you rip apart her coat, tear at her skin, and bite her hands. She hears Wanda take an uncertain step toward the both of you, unsure of what to do. But Natasha waves her hands nonchalantly and asks Wanda with a calm voice to stay back.

Natasha understands that to her wife you must look positively rabid. You were in the kitten class, but you were fighting Natasha as if you were a fighter dog. All teeth and claws. However, compared to Natasha, you might as well have been a mite.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t pierce her skin, can’t topple her balance, you can’t win.

Your fingers dig into the soft skin, your nails gripping and tearing, but nothing happens. There is no skin underneath your nails, no blood, no sight of damage against pale skin. You bite the hands that hold you, and you can hear your jaw creek as you strain your weak body, but the skin doesn't break, the only blood you taste is your own.

You are scared, you don’t know what to do, there is no sunflower field to hide behind, no sea to drown in, you feel powerless, even more so than she makes you feel.

You don’t know what they want, you don’t want to die like this.

Even after all your effort goes to waste you can’t give up, you have to keep trying, you have to-

“Stop.”

Wanda looks at you with an unreadable expression, you look up in terror as you realize you can’t move your body. One simple word, in one simple tone, has made you paralyzed.

#dark!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #vampire!natasha romanoff #vampire!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat x reader

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ja3hwa · 6 months

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♡ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐬, 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬 ♡

Day 31 : Trick Or Teat

【Synopsis】 : The dead of night, creatures hide. In the light of a fire, those same creatures can become more.

『Word count』 : 7.01k

-> Genre: Supernatural. Smut. Angst. Fluff.

Paring: Yungi x Reader | Seonghwa x Reader [Eventual ot8 x Reader]

[Warnings] : Self hatred. Abusive family. toxic family. Cult-like religon. Myths and supernatural concepts. The reader is giving off Genderfluid in some parts [not me projecting whoops]. hints of sexual abuse. Blood. Gore. Dark themes. Blood drinking. Kissing. Swearing. All the boys have a corruption kink cause why not. Fingering. Seonghw has a bit of a superiority complex. Details of torture and killing people. Unprotected sex. Yunho and Mingi are little shits. Eheh

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Surprise!! This is the very first chapter and introduction to my new mini series I'll be writing. I know a lot of you have been wanting Vampire Ateez ot8x reader for a while, and I've been trying to find a good story, and i finally got one, hehe. Also, I wanted to make this fic extra long as well to say thank you for 4k followers. I still want to do an event, but I'm taking a little break first, so I hope this is okay for now.

I LOVE YOU ALL ♡♡♡

Check out the mini series masterlist -> [coming soon]

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Part Two

The Destiny Castle was filled with darkness and death. Guard dogs, the size of cows and strange beastly noises echoing in the forest surrounding. And warnings to anyone that enters the ground will never be seen again. Well, that's what the priest of your village says over time and time again. Blabbering about how god left the family that lived in the castle many centuries ago when they invited night-crawling creatures inside. Ones that drink blood and care little for the human race.

Vampires.

You sighed under your breath for the fifth or sixth time this evening as the sermon read on the large dusted book in front of him. Your hands were beginning to ache from having them clasped together for so long. Why were you even praying? It's not like you believe any of this bullshit. Yes, granted, some of it might sound true, and you had doubts on multiple occasions whether this man in the sky was, in fact, real or not. But did you really want to stick around and find out? When you die and you go to hell, so be it. You weren't scared of where you ended up. You were more scared of wasting your life away. Not finding the adventure you so desperately craved. But your picture-perfect parents with their picture-perfect kids shall have no such dreams. No such idea of living other than to tend to the market stall and be married to yet another picture-perfect family.

You felt your mother's god-awful stare as she clearly heard you sigh yet again. You hated her the most. Always finding new and improved ways to punish you for "your sins." Like rolling your eyes or talking back to a man. Or worse, not showing any signs of being a good future housewife so when she's finally ready to sell you off—oh I'm sorry, give you away—to some rich Christian suitor to be your husband. You could be the perfect version of yourself for her.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

You hated that fucking word. A loud bell chime caught your attention, signalling that Sept was finished with his blabberings for the evening. So you stood up straight, your annoyingly over-layered dress before turning on your heels to leave.

"Oh wait, Dove. Come here, please." Your mother's overfaked and sugary sweet tone rattled in your ears. The use of the nickname Dove also annoyed you. Dove, meaning white pure bird that is trapped in a golden cage. Everyone had called you that since you were born, most people in the village not even knowing your real name, only know this nickname.

Why, you may ask?

Simple, your mother hated your name. You were named after your father's mother, who she hated. But it was tradition to name your firstborn after the father's mother, so here you were. Not only were you a disappointment to your mother, but you also bore a name that resembles hatred. Lucky you.

"This is Lucas Wheeler. He's Mary and Robert's Eldest son." Your mother's voice buttered up the introduction, leaning in with an absolutely disturbingly fake smile that everyone seemed to fall for. You turned your lip slightly, making a poor attempt to smile, which your mother did not approve of. "Luca, darling, this is my daughter."

His grin was wide and overexaggerated. His tunic was buttoned all the way up to his Adams apple, looking as if it was constricting his airflow. And his hair was perfectly brushed back. He was the definition of a good pure religious boy. A book nerd. You couldn't hide your disgust as he licked his lips, eyeing you like some piece of flesh. You knew what he was hiding. That filthy lust that men seemed to only be forgiven for. He has probably dreamed about shoving his cock in every woman that passes him and he was definitely only thinking about his needs while staring at you. Not marriage, not husband duty. No, the sole idea of finally getting his little dick wet was driving him crazy. And it made you want to chuck your guts up all over his clean shoes.

"You seem to have such a um, polite daughter here, Christine. She seems shy?" Lucas's mother, Mary spoke up trying to take a look at you but you kept your face pointed to the ground. You didn’t want to be there and you weren't about to fake a smile for a family you did not need to know. you wanted nothing more than to slip away and become invisible like you always did in these types of situations. But turning twenty has now made you in the public eye. Twenty and without a husband was rare. Normally women in your village were betrothed at sixteen and married at eighteen. But you have managed to wheezle your way out of it from your parents being too worried about your younger sisters. But you’ll be twenty-one soon and your mother, Christine was becoming impatient.

“She is a shy one. Sweet too. Micheal and I have been trying to find the perfect man for her, but her shyness seems to not be a lucky charm.” Your mother battered, throwing a sweet chuckle making Lucas’s parents laugh.

“Well, how about you both come over? Bring all your kids, for dinner. I’m sure my Luca would love to get to know her.” Mary pinched Lucas’s cheek making him push away slightly.

“Yes. I’d love to know more about your daughter. I’m sure we will be able to entertain one another while you get dinner ready.” his dark words made your stomach turn and flip. Now you were definitely going to be sick.

“It’s settled then. We will see you at sundown.” Your mother bid goodbye tugging you away by your arm out of the church, not letting you go for a second. Knowing you’d just run off the first chance you got.

Night came quicker than you would have liked and no matter how hard to tried to slip away your mother made sure that one of your sisters was always with you, ready to shout if you tried to bail. What was this some type of house imprisonment? You didn’t want to go, that was more than clear. But your mother couldn’t care less and your father well it was ‘whatever mother says goes’. so you were alone in the more honest terms. Your brothers were too young to know any different, your sister who is only two years younger than you was a cutout of your mother. And your little sister was daddy's little girl. She didn’t care about anything but her daddy.

What a perfect family you seem to have. Everyone fitted in somewhere but you. You were the experiment. The first batch of cookies to come out of the oven that no one touches cause they were too burned or not fully cooked.

“Come on we are going to be late.” Your mother's voice rang through the house, your sister's eyes not leaving you. She had muttered something before heading for the door. You had told her you just needed to put on some garments before meeting her downstairs. She was hesitant for a moment thinking this was a plan to escape but you had said that there was no time now and what would be the point. Sensing your defeat she left you alone. Finally.

You pull on some pants under your dress, hating having to wear such feminine clothing. It wasn’t that you were against wearing dresses or lace or even frills. It was more that sometimes you wanted pants. Was that so bad? You sighed putting all the clothes your sister had pulled out for you to try on, on the end of your bed. That was later you’s problem. You noticed your book laying on your pillow making you swear under your breath. Tucking it back under the sheets you wonder if your sister saw it. You hopped not, if she saw what you wrote or worse what you drew, she’d be telling the church to burn you at the stake.

You ran down the stairs quickly, not wanting to waste any more time, hoping that if you go over and get this night over with you can come back home and hide away in your room, wishing you were anywhere other than with this family.

This night seemed okay as far as talking about our lord and saviour over supper was. Mary was busy finishing up the final dish, letting Lucas and your parents laugh over a blessed bottle of wine. They had sent you and Lucas away to, get to know one another and Lucas had to perfect idea to show you his barn. A place where ‘he could be himself’. God, everything he says annoys you. Climbing the old rusty ladder, you stand in an empty hay loft. Your gut felt strange, like your body was warning you of something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Until you felt a hand grip your shoulder softly but tight enough to make you freeze.

His breath was so close, pooling on your neck. fingers were ghosting along your corset strings making tears build in your eyes. Even though he was a little boy in your mind. He was much bigger than you and he could easily take advantage of you if you didn’t play your cards right. So you had to act. “And what might we get up to here hmm…”

His chuckle sickened you. “Well, we have some time before mother calls. So I thought we get to know each other. Just like our families wanted.” he pulled away, making a grunting sound behind you. You turned slowly to see he was sitting on a blanket that had been laid out on some hay. Was this disgusting excuse of a man really thinking he could charm you into sleeping with him? God, his ego was bigger than you thought. You giggled, waltzing around the small room pretending to think but in truth, you were looking for an exit. You could go down the ladder but he’d probably grab you before getting that low. Maybe over the side onto the beams. He won't be able to get to you then. But then you’d be trapped until you eventually have to climb back over. And you know he’s the type to wait you out.

A window. Probably leads onto the roof. Not practical but if you recall you did see a bunch of hay bails just outside so if you jump you’d be able to land on them. And a broken ankle or wrist was better than….”Where is your mind wondering, baby? Do I scare you?”

Your head snaps back to him, giving him a small smile. “Oh, no…no…” You step closer, looking him deep in his eyes. “you don’t scare me…baby…” You stood right above his laying figure, his legs spread, enough for you to place a foot in between them. A grim smirk painted his unpleasant features. he went to sit up and you used this as your now or never, kicking him right in the balls without another thought. His groan was loud, knowing if it weren't for how far you were from the house. Everyone would have heard.

“You little bitch!” You ran for the window, crawling out as quickly as you could. The top of your dress got caught on a nail ripping the fabric. But you didn’t waste any time to cry about broken material, looking for the hay bails. It wasn’t as high of a jump as you thought, sliding down the straw, making some of it get caught in your dress. You could hear Lucas groaning in the distance as you started to run. Run fast and run far.

You needed to go home. Quickest route is through the forestry back towards the centre of the village before turning off from the church. Jump Mr Smith's fence and climb the vines into your room. Simple enough. But it's dark, a little too dark and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and rabid footsteps in the distance. The forest was thick. Trees tightly snug together. You almost tripped several times over branches and roots. Your heart was racing now, panting as your mind was becoming hazy. Need to get home. Need to get home.

“Ohhhh Little Dove, where are you.” Lucas’s deep sinister voice echoed through the dark forest. He was too close, you needed to stop. Hide. Maybe he’d go past you or head back. “Come out, baby. We were just having some fun.”

Quiet. Be silent. don’t move. Not a mucsle.

He called your name this time your real one making you gulp. His voice was maybe two or three trees away from where you stood. A twig snaps and you feel tears in the corners of your eyes. He was so close it was like you could still feel his breath. “Come on princess...” His hand wrapped the tree you were standing against and everything stopped. You closed your eyes thinking for a moment, trying to play thousands of scenarios of how you could get away. But nothing would work. He caught you. He danced the bend, slipping right into your view. Before you could run his hand gripped your throat making you freeze. “Don’t worry baby. I don’t bite.”

His words were short... sinister, like he had achieved his ultimate goal of capturing his prey. Your eyes widened going to spit back a comment but your words caught in your throat as you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Lucas. Tall, dark. Red eyes glowing through the night. Everything happened so quickly, the beast grasped Lucas the same way he had you, pulling him back with fright. “But I do…”

The creature's fangs pierced the disgusting man's neck making him scream out a noise that would make your blood curdle. His grip dropped from you, trying to scratch and fight off the larger figure. You took this moment to run, not even caring if the creature was going to kill him or not. All you knew was you needed to run. But you couldn’t run home anymore. There’s blood on your hands literally, Lucas’s blood splattered on you. If this wasn’t a perfect situation the priest was looking for to burn you at the stake you don’t know what is. “Hey, this way.”

You physically jump hearing a high-pitched voice cooe at you through the wind. It was a hooded figure, and normally you would of not gone with a stranger but in this case it seemed fair. You followed the person who seemed to be always a few steps ahead of you at all times no matter how hard you tried to catch up. It was only then, when you stopped focusing on the person to look around you noticed they were leading you to the castle grounds. Where myth reads vampires inhabit. That must have been what got Lucas.

A blood sucking vampire.

You stopped in your tracks not knowing to go back or forward. It’s not like vampires scared you per se. It was just. You were human and they are beasts. They would certainly eat you before you could plead your case. But one of them saved you right? That’s what it was doing? Not just finding two humans and deciding to have a late-night snack right….

“Hey over here.” The figure called for you again but when you looked up everything suddenly went black.

Your head was ringing. Heartbeat thumping slowly in your ears. Black splotches clouded your vision as you tried to look around. You were in a room. A Billiard room, to be exact. You have never seen a room of such a size. The bottom of your house most definitely fitting in this room alone. The leather under your fingers felt expensive, seeing the brown with bubbled texture. It was lavish, elegant—

"Beautiful, isn't it." A smooth voice swayed your attention, having caught you admiring the fine fabrics of the furniture. Your eyes locked with deep crimson ones. He was like nothing you've ever seen before. He was stunning, tall, and broad. You had to gulp at the sheer beauty of the man. But you knew he wasn't just a man. From his eyes, you knew he was a beast, a night crawler.

"Are you going to respond? Or are you more of a staring type?" Another voice scared you slightly. Looking to your left, you see another man, but he was sitting on the couch next to you. His black undercut fitted his features perfectly. He kind of sounded like the hooded figure that was helping you get away before...

"Definitely the quiet, staring type." A cheeky tone to your right. He was leaning on the pool table, his Cheshire cat grin painting his features smugly.

So there's three of them that live here?

"Now now, Woo, San. She's probably just scared." A shorter but beefier male suddenly stood next to the first one that spoke. He wasn't even looking at you, mostly paying attention to the two he called Woo and San. You were now sitting straight up, moving your gaze from each of them. As they were all in their own worlds arguing about why you might not be talking.

"You're bleeding, Tiny?" A voice growled behind you, startling you. You turned to see two very big men standing behind the couch. "When did you cut yourself?" He dragged his two fingers through your wound, making you hiss, pulling away from him.

He put one of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he were savouring the taste. Once he was done, he placed his other bloody finger in the male next to him, mouth. The other man groaned his eyes, glowing a harsher red as he stared you down. "You taste delicious, Sugar."

You went to stand, trying to get away from them, but your legs gave out, making you fall forward in front of the high-pitched boy who still sat on the other couch. "Be careful, Dollface. Don’t want ya gettin hurt."

"Okay, let's give her some space. Wooyoung, take San down to the kitchens and see if dinner is ready yet. Mingi and Yunho can go set the table." The one that stood at the door, the first man directed all the men with ease. They will followed without another word, heading for the door. "And for the love of Lillith, Jongho, can you please find your lover and Hongjoong. I think they were still cleaning up from..." He looked at you briefly. "Dealing with that disgusting human."

You knew he was talking about Lucas, and that meant this Lover boy or Hongjoong had been the one you saw ripping through Lucas's neck. They all left soon after, leaving you alone with the dominant man. You managed to sit back on the couch, but you wanted, needed to stand. So you tried your luck again, and your knees buckled, making you slip forward, but instead of making an impact with the ground, two large arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands gripped the creature's biceps, feeling his muscles taught and tense. "You do need to be careful, Darling."

Unlike Lucas's or any man, you've ever met really. These creatures don't seem to set off any of your alarms. You didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not, but you chose to brush it off, ‘cause in the end, you had never felt such kindness from anyone in the village. You were out-casted, unloved. You might as well be the witch they all wanted you to be. The kind smile that painted his features made your heart skip. He was indeed handsome. You finally spoke up saying who you were and the man looked at you with surprise before laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Seonghwa. It’s nice to meet you…”

Your name rolled off his tongue so beautifully. No one had ever used it to address you before. It was almost strange, foreign even. “Honestly you could call me anything. I was never called that name sadly.”

Seonghwa hummed in response, still holding tight on you. In truth, he knows much more about you than he leads on. When he and the others go on hunts he had found you a year ago. Ironically you were having your nineteenth birthday. On your own of course. He remembers the way you spoke to yourself, wishing yourself a happy birthday while you drew in your book. Your feet were in the cool water of the watering hole in the forestry just outside the village. You went there almost every second day. And so did he.

There was something about you that caught his eye. Caught all of the boy's eyes. You were special but none of them could put their finger on it. So of course when they found you running for your life from a disgusting man. They couldn’t stand by and let anything happen to their precious little human.

Dinner was quick as you just sat there and ate in silence. The others were loud though, making it seem almost normal. Like everything that was happening was something you all were used to already. Seonghwa had told you about all the boys and what all their names were. It took you a moment to put names to faces but once you got it. It was easy. Seonghwa never left your side. Making sure you were safe and comfortable. You appreciated it, understanding it must have been weird to have a human walking around. But you quickly learnt that all the maids and butlers were human. They got paid and some even lived on the estate.

Everything the village said about vampires and creatures in general was so wrong. And secretly you always wanted it to be wrong. So you were glad they weren't purely just bloodsucking beasts. But every now and then that face you saw popped into your head. You still didn’t know which one killed Lucas. And on top of it, this Hongjoong and Yeosang—Seonghwa had told you his name—were nowhere to be found.

“Okay well, sun will be up soon. Let’s get ready for bed.” Seonghwa again spoke up, dying down the chatter. It was like he took on a motherly role in the house. It was cute.

“Come Sugarcube. Yunho and I will show you to your room.” The one named Mingi flashed you a smile making you smile in response. Bidding Seonghwa goodnight or would It be morning now? Mental note to look out for a clock. The halls were lavish and carpeted, matching all the rooms you’ve seen thus far. Everything was perfect, vintage and beautiful. Yunho and Mingi had caught onto your mind wandering and had stopped for a moment, seeing how far you’d walk without them near you. You were very cute to them. Like a clueless bunny, with wide innocent eyes.

“Hey, Tiny. Your room is over here.” Yunho’s far voice snapped you out of your thoughts making you turn around to see both large men. Their arms crossed, with big grins. Your face was redder than a tomato in seconds making them both groan at how you waddle back quickly. Cute. Too cute. “This is where you’ll be saying. We’ll try and get some of your personal things tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Hongjoong had said something about grabbing some stuff while your family are out tomorrow.” Mingi rubbed the back of his neck as you slipped past both men to look into the huge spacious room. Only hours ago you were about to be married off to some pig and live on his farm until your death to now staying with not one but eight vampires.

And what was worse. You couldn’t go back. Not that you’d want to that is. But still, all your life you’ve known one thing and now… “You okay Tiny? Not the style you like? We have like ten other rooms if you want to-No it’s okay it’s just…” You cut Yunho off before taking a seat on the olive green and black silk sheets that lay on the large king bed.

“Did…Did Lucas die?” You don’t understand why you were asking about that pig but you needed to know. You needed to know would your parents found his mangled body and thought the beast that did that also killed you. Or would they think you did it? Yunho sat on his knees in front of you, placing his large hands on your thighs in a comforting manner. His smile was soft and his fingers grazing on your exposed skin was gentle.

“No. Yeosang left him alive. But he won't be wanting to live with the way he looks now.” You don’t know if Yunho’s words made you feel better or worse.

“Hongjoong helped him drag him back to that barn. His parents found him and they are looking for you at the moment.” Mingi revealed, knowing you’ll just keep asking questions so there was no reason to hide anything from you.

“Do my parents think I’m dead?” Deep down you knew they’d be happy either way. Dead, alive. Murderer or innocent. Your family would plead their sob story about the monster you were regardless of the truth.

“No…Lucas told them you ran. They think you were a part of it. Luring him out there for your vampire lover to have a meal.” Yunho felt disgusted with himself for repeating what Hongjoong had told them your parents said. But what else should they do?

“Vampire lover….hmm.” You smiled, starting to laugh. That’s what they probably thought you were sneaking off to at random hours of the day or night. Both of the men looked at one another with confusion, letting Mingi sit down next to you.

“Something funny with that Sugarcube?” Mingi’s voice was so deep, velvety. It made your core tingle and heart race. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, but still giving him a smile.

“My mother has wanted nothing but to pin some devilish thing on me and now she gets it. Something that said I did not serve the lord. Argh…” Tears ran down your cheeks “Fuck the lord. Why should I have to care what an old man did for humanity?! I just wanted to paint. Find adventure. Not marry and be a baby maker for some lowlife pig.” All your pent-up anger. All your disappointment. Every single thing you wished to say to your mother was pouring out, in front of two vampires you had only met hours ago now. It felt like a weight being pushed off your chest and you were no longer drowning. Mingi’s hand rubbed circles on your lower back making you fall into his embrace, letting him hold you while Yunho straightened up so he could hold you as well. They were beasts that could drain you in seconds yet they held you like they’ve known you for years. They listened as if they cared. They spoke as if you were the most important person in the world. why?

“There, there baby. It’s okay. You’re free now. You can do anything you want.” Yunho’s voice was quiet almost barely above a whisper. But still still heard him. You pulled away letting them still hold you but you could wipe your face. You can do anything? No one has ever said that to you.

“Well...I guess since this my first time of freedom…” You had both the vampire's attention now with your words. “I want a bath. One with lots of bubbles.” You’ve never had such a thing in your life only settling for quick showers or sharing bathing pools with your siblings. Not something lavish. Mingi laughed a deep hearty laugh. As if you couldn't get any more cute, there you went.

“I think that’s a perfect idea Sugar. We’ll get one of the maids to fix one up for you. And…” He placed his hands on either shoulder pushing you towards Yunho. Your face inches from him. Mingi inspected the wound of your shoulder blade noticing it was already closing but blood was still pooling out of it slowly. “Get this wound cleaned up…”

His tongue licked a strip upwards, following the wound. You hiccuped feeling a slight sting from him. Yunho however distracted you by giving you a kiss. Your eyes were wide and confused. He… he was kissing you. His soft lips moved slowly against yours. His tongue dipped around your bottom lip, testing the waters. Perfectly distracting you from Mingi cleaning your cut with his mouth. Your blood tasted unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

“You taste amazing… fuck.” Mingi mumbled against you while Yunho’s tongue slipped into your mouth as you groaned. Your mind was spinning like crazy, your hand finding place on Yunho biceps, digging your nails in his cold flesh.

“Y…Yuyu..” You tried to speak, finally making both men pull away, leaving you to gasp for air.

“Sorry tiny. Your lips were just too kissable not to.” Yunho chuckled licking his lips of the saliva you left behind on them. Your heart was pounding, feeling such excitement but also a tinge of fear…

“Tha… that was my first kiss..” You felt embarrassed to say so but you felt compelled to tell them. Which made both of them growl. Mingi’s fingers wrapped in your tattered dress hem while Yunho rubbed his hand over his face.

“Fuck. I was your first kiss baby?” Yunho felt so proud of himself.

“Damn Yunho the others aren't gonna be happy when they find out,” Mingi spoke as if you were no longer there.

“Wait why would the others care?” You suddenly felt small, seeing hunger in both their eyes. You had no idea what these men were planning, nor what they all wanted from you. It frightened you. But not as much as it excited you.

The bath was filled with bubbles, vanilla scent soap and soft music from a vinyl. You could have stayed in there for hours but when one of the maids came in to help you dress your wound you knew it was time to get out. The nice maid named Minnie had brought you some sleepwear, soft silk sleep shorts and a singlet. You have never felt such soft fabric before always getting hand-me-downs or second/third hand clothing.

“You look cute.” A gentle voice echoed from the door of your room. You hummed, blush burning your cheeks. Turning you see Seonghwa leaning against the door frame, bottom lip between his teeth as he eyed you, not even trying to hide that he was checking you out.

“Thanks…” You played with your fingers, standing there awkwardly as you watched Seonghwa close the door, slowly moving towards you. Like he was stalking you. No doubt Yunho and Mingi had run off bragging what they had done when you were busy bathing. God, if this was going to become a new normal you were going to develop a headache from your head spinning.

“I wanted to check on you.” For every step he took, you took one back, like a little dance until your back was firmly against the wall and his body almost flushed against you. “I heard Min and Yun had some fun with you.”

“I-..Yunho kissed me…Mingi he uh…” You felt so flustered, fanatically looking around the room feeling embarrassed about spilling what you had done even though you knew the two giants would have told everyone by now. He put his fingers on your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it slightly.

“I was kinda hoping to be the first to taste you. But then again, none of the boys tend to listen.” His eyes were hooded, looking at you with such hunger. He could feel your heart race against the pad of his thumb. He can hear your blood pumping quicker than normal. And your eyes never left his. His face inched closer, and then some. Seeing just how close he could get to you before you’d pull away but you didn’t, not even flinch. “Have you done anything like this before?”

You shook your head no slightly. “Have you ever touched yourself, Bunny?” his question made your face become redder. This was filthy, dirty, something you were supposed to be sworn away. And man did defying god feel intoxicating. You whispered no, making him close his eyes with a sigh for a moment. So innocent, so cute… So his to taint. “Do you want me to touch you, Bunny?”

“Yes…” You whisper… He tucked a piece of damp hair behind your ear making you shiver as his fingers grazed your skin. His cold tips slide along your cheek, down to your neck, before pushing gently on your man artery feeling your hot blood pump under his digits.

“I could drain you dry right now. Or fuck you full? Maybe both? Hmm?” His lips brushed against yours but not enough to seal his lips on yours. No, he wanted you to do it, he needed you to do the first move. So he knows you do in fact want it. And you gave him exactly what he wanted, leaning up to lock your lips to his. His one hand cupped your face to deepen the kiss while his other, snaked down to play with the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread instinctively, giving him access to do whatever he pleases. His wet tongue danced with you making you feel all kinds of filthy.

You had almost gotten a man killed, ran away from home. Most likely been shunned for life from your village and on top of that kissed two men that both happened to be undead creatures you only just met, while another drank from one of your open wounds. If was indeed sins, you might as well be sent down to Lillith herself on a golden platter.

“Come on Bunny, let’s get you comfortable.” He pulled away picking you up by your thighs before walking over to your bed and laying you down on the plump mattress. His lips trail down your cheeks, then your jaw until he stops at your neck for a moment rubbing his nose along your jugular. “God I can smell your blood through your soft skin.” he sighs, drawing his fangs out.

“H-Hwa p-please…” You bucked your hips against his hardening length, spreading your legs further so he could get closer if that was possible. He chuckled, darkly. Fang pressing just hard enough to pierce your skin a little bit so a few drops of blood would spill out. He licked your blood up, trying not to get any on the bed sheets. Your whimpers were music to his ears, and your taste was heavenly. Now he’s wondering how else you taste in other places. “Fuuckk.”

The feeling of his fangs and the was his fingers play with your short made your head cloudy. His hand slipped into your shorts cupping your core making you suddenly aware what was happening. His mouth finally left your neck, kissing down the exposed parts of your chest. He was worshiping every part of your body sending your skin on fire. “Such a pretty bunny. I can feel heat pooling out of you. Do you find my devilish charms that intoxicating bunny?”

You squirmed, needed more. His index finger slide along your slit making your mouth open into an ‘o’ shape. Your eyes shut tightly, finally feeling some kind of relief that you were searching for. The pleasure was new, and strange, making you feel like you were in a whole another world. Seonghwa kept whispering sweet nothings to you as he slowly pushes a finger inside your drenched cunt. It was steady at first until he found a rhythm, inching yet another finger inside making your brows knot together. His name fell from your lips on repeat like some kind of broken vinyl, he knew he could get you close to your high without much effort given you have never felt such a feeling before. And with only a few more moments you were clenching around his digits, coming underdone while he stared at you intensely, watching every one of your features move and contort in the pure ecstasy he was gifting you. “Did that feel good baby? I can make you feel even better, all you got to do is say yes.”

“Yes, please Seonghwa. Please. Make me feel like that again. I wanna feel good.” You don’t know why your mouth started spilling such filth but you couldn’t care, not when you were so close to feeling a pleasure you have only wondered about in those lewd novels Miss Smith had down the path. She had let you borrow one and it had changed your life forever. Seonghwa got to work, pulling your shirt off above your head and tugging down the rest until it slipped off your ankles in one swoop of his wrists. You were completely bare for him. He could see all the sun-kissed spots. All the scars, and beauty marks. He could see the bruises of a handprint on your collarbone and other smaller ones littering your legs and arms.

Pathetic human. Digusting pig.

Fuck, does he wish that Yeosang and Hongjoong hadn’t kept him alive now. But then again giving him a swift death would have been too merciful. No, Seonghwa would want to keep Lucas in a cell, locked away for weeks. No food, barely any water. Watching him starve. Watch him beg for death. But Seonghwa would never give it to him. Lucas would welter away in the dungeon, cold, scared, and alone. Just as you felt when you were being chased by him. Just as you felt when he had put his hands on you. Seonghwa would make him pay.

“H-Hwa…” You sat on your elbows having seen the vampire's mind wander. Was he okay? Was he second-guessing his actions? Seonghwa was quick to disregard any of your fears as he shed himself off his shirt, before sliding off the bed to pull his pants down. They dropped to the floor with an audible ‘oof’. You didn't mean for your eyes to immediately gaze down at his fully grown erection but its angry red tip had caught your attention. Seonghwa didn’t mind one bit though, he admired your body in the meantime, letting you get a good look at him while he did the same to you. “That can’t fit inside me….”

Seonghwa laughed, physically laughed at your abrupt statement. “Oh don’t worry. It will.” he yanked one of your legs making you gasp. He stood tall at the end of your bed, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, gathering up some of your cum to use as lubricant. The whole time his eyes never left yours. He wanted to see the pleasure pooling in your eyes when he entered you inch by inch. And as you bit your bottom lip, you tried your damned hardest to keep your gaze open. “That’s it, baby. Breath…”

The stretch was painful, to say the least. Even though Seonghwa had used his fingers on you, it still wasn’t enough to fully prep you for his girth. He rubbed circles in your hips, trying to settle the pain as much as he could, noticing your fingers had entangled in the silk sheets, with your knuckles turning lightly white.

“Ffuckk, hngmm Seong.” you mumbled, finally feeling him enter you fully, his groin flush against you. He stayed still for a moment, letting you catch your breath but man was it hard. The way you clamped around him, sucked him in for more. It made him want nothing more than to pound the living shit out of you. But patience. He needed patience. And luckily out of all the boys, he owned the most patience.

“Can I move Darling?” His words were a stutter, laying with groans and sighs. You nodded your head before responding with a quick and quiet ‘please’ letting him draw his cock until only the tip was inside you then smashing back in, knocking the wind out of you. You could no longer hold yourself up, falling onto your back. Seonghwa watched as your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts and how your thighs were clamped snugly around him. You felt amazing, looked eternal. And you were finally his.

He dreamed about what your cunt might feel like wrapped around his cock. Or how might your blood taste when you are in the middle of being fucked. Firty thoughts had always seemed to riddle his mind whenever he saw you and now he could finally get the answers. But one thing is for sure. He has no idea how he is possibly going to share you with the others. When he is going to be craving you permanently.

-♥︎

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xinxiaogato · 9 months

Text

— snip! snip! snip...!

summary. the hairstyle of the guy with indigo eyes was very specific: a short jellyfish cut that ended at the base of his neck with wispy, sparse bangs lined up in the front. however, what would happen if your boyfriend gave someone free rein to a pair of scissors near his head?

love interests. gn!reader x kabukimono, scaramouche, and wanderer. (separately)

warnings. cursing, jealousy, unedited, and a lil spicy during wanderer’s part.

word count. 3,506.

note. let’s pretend both niwa and the nameless child (named “isamu” here) are alive at the same time for this fic… you are referred to as “reader” by the way!

꒰ 傾奇者 ꒱ — kabukimono

your cutie patootie of a boyfriend always burst through the door after working at the forge and embraced you as if centuries had passed since the last time you saw each other.

but today, for some odd reason, when you heard the familiar squeak of the front door, that squeak wasn’t followed by the usual croon of your name and a rush of footsteps toward you. instead, you listened to kabukimono wordlessly pad into the bathroom…

and he didn’t come out.

concerned for his well-being, you quickly made your way outside the room he barricaded himself in and knocked on the door twice. “kabukimono?” you called for him. “are you all right?”

silence.

and then you heard him sniffle.

“y-yeah, i’m okay,” his voice returned meekly. “please don’t worry about me…”

your heart squeezed tightly in your chest. “wait, are you crying?"

"..."

"kabukimono, please let me know what’s going on. we can work it out together. you know that.”

you prepared to give him space if there was no reply, but the door creaked open shortly after. you took that as an invitation to walk in but was abruptly glomped by him, his face buried into your chest.

“kabukimono!” startled, you tried to gently push your boyfriend off, but it was like the two of you got stuck together by adhesive glue.

“what happened?” you asked with what breath he hadn’t squeezed out of your lungs.

kabukimono was so, so embarrassed. half of the reason he refused to budge was the shame for not greeting you properly…

…but the other half was the atrocity that had become of his front bangs!

previously, niwa had noticed them getting a tad too long to the point they were poking into kabukimono’s eyes, so like a good samaritan, niwa suggested to give them a little trim.

kabukimono should’ve protested a little harder when he saw niwa take out scissors the size of gardening shears.

“n-niwa…!” quivered kabukimono as he gawked at himself through a shard of glass.

“i’m so sorry, friend; this is all my fault! but it doesn’t look too bad?”

“…niwa, reader is going to break up with me.”

niwa offered up his bandana for kabukimono to wear home, but kabukimono knew he’ll have to face this dilemma head-on sooner or later.

however, the closer he got to his and your house of wooden veneer… the more he dreaded your reaction.

“kabukimono…” you said softly, which turned his stomach. “…may i see your face?”

“…”

against his better judgment, the wandering samurai peeled his face off of your clothes and angled it so that you could glimpse his bangs, which were much shorter than you were accustomed to. your lips parted in mild surprise as you took another second to process this.

“…i look terrible,” kabukimono murmured in the silence, tears pricking his bluish-purple eyes. he knew he was seconds away from bidding his quaint life with you goodbye. “p-please don’t leave me…” he added underneath his breath, his fingers gripping onto you tighter like you were about to disappear.

…so this is what he was trying to hide all along.

you let out a little “pfft” that captured his attention and then smoothed back his short bangs to plant a kiss as sweet as summer fruit on his forehead.

“kabukimono, you look perfect,” whispered you with only love in your eyes.

for the first time that night, kabukimono looked up and donned a gaze of profound intensity that felt like it was sucking you in. he really loved it when you said his name with your voice; it made him melt into a puddle.

“i’m not gonna leave you over something this silly,” you continued, making him scrunch his face when you booped his nose. “besides, it’ll grow out.”

“really?” he croaked.

“really. now how about you wake up isamu while i get dinner ready?”

kabukimono blinked away tears that had threatened to spill down his cheeks earlier. you always dispelled his worries in a flash no matter how trivial they were. why did he ever have doubts in the first place? you were his sanctuary—the end-all to his anxiety of being abandoned. “okay!”

꒰ 国崩 ꒱ — scaramouche

slam!

that sound of the door to his bedroom was nothing to sneeze at, but the fact that the fatui harbinger didn’t greet you with a kiss on the lips as per usual was. hell, you didn’t even get the chance to see his face when he came home. that either meant he was really angry or really tired, and whether he joined you for dinner was up to you to test the waters.

tonight, you were feeling brave. how could he turn down your infamous chicken katsu?

“scara!” you exclaimed, wiping your hands on a towel before approaching the lion’s den. “i made dinner! or would you prefer a shower? or perhaps… moi?”

“…”

“i know you’re in there. at least give me a sign that you’re alive.”

“...”

“scaramouche! scaramouche! will you do the fandango?”

“...”

“sc-scara, there’s a fire in the kitchen!”

“…”

“seriously?”

well, you supposed you should’ve saved that one for later. you used that excuse last week to lure him out.

heaving a sigh, you turned on your heel to accept eating alone for the night when scaramouche suddenly whipped the door open and encircled his arms around you from behind, pulling a shocked you to his chest and locking you in place.

“if you turn around, we’re breaking up,” he grumbled into your ear.

“huh!?” you thrashed around in scaramouche’s grip to no avail. “that’s not something you can just decide on your own!”

“don’t care. if you saw me—!”

if you saw him, you would most definitely laugh, and the last thing scaramouche wanted to be was a laughing stock to his lover. of course he would cast aside his ego when it came to your reputation, but archons forbid you seeing him as something pitiable. not if he could help it.

“don’t you realize i’ll be more upset if i didn’t get to see your handsome face, darling?” you whined with futile tugs and twists at his wrists. “as to whatever happened, it can’t be that bad!”

oh, it was bad. really bad.

“the most important thing is eye contact!” declared his colleague with the irritatingly bright locks of orange hair. “after all, there’s a saying that eyes are the windows of the soul. how else are you supposed to communicate your feelings to them?”

“...dude, you don’t even have light in your eyes,” scaramouche responded. “why should i take advice from you?”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

sandrone’s massive puppet smacked tartaglia upside the head as she scowled. “stop making a ruckus, and just cut the balladeer’s bowlcut already. he looks homeless.”

“yes, i don’t think we can handle the sixth harbinger’s lamentation about his relationship much longer,” arlecchino grumbled, her eyes turning so far upward that they almost rolled right out of the room.

“none of you guys were even supposed to know about it!” scaramouche roared with fury practically emanating off of him.

this outburst had all the other partygoers of the tsarita’s banquet turning their heads. they couldn’t believe their eyes, but it was true. all ten executive heads of the fatui were gathered together in one place (fly high, signora). even the harbingers themselves never thought something like this would happen if it weren’t for you, who scaramouche had introduced and (to his dismay) had made them all smitten toward you. even the tsaritsa thought you were pleasant.

the fatui harbingers could not refuse your suggestion to have “team bonding events”—this gala being one of them—and the animosity between these lieutenants have actually lessened over time (by a hair’s breadth).

“i can use my water blades,” tartaglia offered, who thrusted his hands forward to summon them.

scaramouche’s hands balled into fists, ready to clock the eleventh harbinger before he even had the chance. “no. a thousand times no! don’t even get those things close to me if you want to live, you asshat.”

“what… transpired this?” whispered pulcinella, unable to keep up with the youngsters’ energy.

pantalone took it upon himself to explain the situation. “word is that our dear reader complimented the hairstyle of a subordinate working underneath the balladeer,” the regrator informed as he pushed his neck-strap spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose. “since then, he has failed to complete a single assignment.”

revealing his sharp canines, dottore snickered. “in spite of that, it truly is miraculous that the kid found someone who could get past his ironclad exterior.”

columbina hummed in agreement. “it is miraculous that anyone even likes him~!”

they eventually resorted to a pair of scissors that dottore had in his coat pocket (dottore was almost disappointed when il capitano reminded everyone that he carried one), and after some convincing and straight up fist fighting, it was decidedly pulcinella who got on a stool to give scaramouche a snip.

and pulcinella… doesn’t have the best eyes.

“if it’s about your dark circles, it’s okay,” you reassured scaramouche back in the present. “i’ll always accept you the way you are.”

“i don’t have dark circles!” in a fit of rage, scaramouche spun around to glare at you while blinking several times in quick succession and—lo and behold—gave you front-row seats to pulcinella’s botched job at cutting his bangs, which now ended halfway down his forehead. scaramouche felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight of your widened eyes before he shoved his hat into your face and stormed off.

“w-wait, scara!” you chased after him to the living room, and he still refused to face you. “that was what you were worried about me seeing?”

following that was a silence that thickened the air. you walked up to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “hey… i like guys with short hair, you know?”

…

“...but that damn skirmisher had long hair,” your boyfriend grumbled.

ah. this confirmed your suspicion that he overheard you speaking to his underling. little did scaramouche know that you had just been asking about your boyfriend’s whereabouts that day (but of course the balladeer anxiously spying on you the whole time made it impossible for you to locate him).

“i also like guys with blue hair and blue eyes.” you went to stand in front of scaramouche and placed his kasa hat back onto his head before squishing his face with your hands. he furrowed his eyebrows and tried to pull away, but the almighty harbinger became weak before you very easily. “i like guys with red eyeliner. a big hat. a haughty attitude. i like you, darling. and nothing is going to change that.”

scaramouche clenched his jaw and looked down at the floor dejectedly. “...how can you stand it though? you just said my attitude is haughty. is that… fine?”

“i’m still here, aren’t i?” you smiled. “and i’m not going anywhere. even if you went bald.”

“...do not allow that image to form in your brain, reader.”

“it’s too late.”

“reader!”

but despite the irritation laced in his voice, his lips were curled into a smile reserved only for his lover’s eyes. he liked you, too, and nothing was going to change that.

꒰ 放浪者 ꒱ — wanderer

“lesser lord kusanali.”

the dendro archon whirled around and almost let out a breath of relief at the sight of you entering the sanctuary of surasthana, your fingers intertwined behind your back. “grand sage, it is good to see you,” nahida greeted earnestly. “i’m sorry for contacting you on such short notice, but you were the only one i could think of reaching out to.”

“really?” you cocked an eyebrow as you descended down the white stone walkway. not at all did you mind chatting with nahida when you had the chance, but if you were the only person capable of solving her problem, it must be serious. “what could be the matter?”

“well… it’s rather a long story.” scratching her cheek, the dendro archon recounted what took place that morning.

“what are you thinking about?” the little archon questioned as she and wanderer strolled along the outskirts of the city.

wanderer kicked a rock that had the misfortune of being in his path. “you and i both know the answer to that,” he stoically replied.

“has it been that long since you and reader have seen each other?”

those words made something in wanderer’s chest feel a foreign pang, one that only occurred when he envisioned your face.

“i know that they’re busy with official affairs,” he scoffed, coming to a full stop. nahida followed suit, looking back at him with a hand to her heart. “it just can’t be safe for humans to stay cooped up inside of their offices all day long.”

nahida knew the nonchalance in wanderer’s tone was just a cover-up for how much he missed you, and the archon was all too familiar with that feeling. “wanderer—”

“i’m gonna make them regret prioritizing their work over me.”

with a tip of his hat, wanderer started trudging back the way they came.

“hey, wait!” she rushed after him and clung onto one of the blue fabrics dangling from the back of his head covering, which yanked him back toward her.

“what?” he deadpanned.

“how are you planning to make reader regret it?” she asked her disciple, anxious about letting him out of her sight.

“...”

wanderer recalled overhearing a conversation in the grand bazaar. a woman was fawning over her husband’s new appearance, who shaved off his beard earlier that day because he wanted to surprise her, and it was like she fell in love with him for the first time all over again.

wanderer wanted you to fall in love with him all over again.

“haircut,” he grunted.

“haircut?” nahida echoed.

“i want a haircut.” wanderer blatantly pointed at his head.

nahida took a moment to process his request before breaking out into a smile antagonistic to his scowl. “leave it to me!”

“and that was my first time cutting someone’s hair…” concluded nahida quite dejectedly. “...so you can imagine his fury when he got his hands on a mirror…”

“oh, archons,” you muttered right in front of her, slapping a hand to your face. “where is he now?”

“i’m not sure… i think he grumbled something about curling up in a corner and never seeing a single person again before he flew away.”

the only place you could imagine he escaped to was your shared home together in sumeru city, which was the biggest decision you two had carried out together in your relationship so far. however, you had no idea that the house became such a lonely place for wanderer. anguish squeezed your heart as you pictured him eating dinner alone, pretending the food was satiating like you had suggested in the past because he had wanted to be more human. “like you,” he had said.

“please let the other sages know i am taking an early leave,” i said, pivoting on my heel. “lunch is on me tomorrow!”

“good luck!” nahida called out to you, and as you pushed through the doors of the sanctuary, you felt like you grew wings right there and then.

when was the last time you inhaled a breath of fresh air…?

you dashed home as fast as your little legs (that had been stationary for what? six days?) could carry you home. along the way, nilou stopped you to discuss performing for the people in aaru village, cyno wished to speak about dispatching additional soldiers to monitor trade in the caravan ribat, and al haitham wanted a vacation(?)

however, you had to direct each one of them to your p.o. box because there was one request that waited to be fulfilled for a long, long time.

“babe!” you exclaimed, stumbling a bit as you peeled off your shoes at the doorway. “babe, are you home?”

silence. every step you took further down the hallway entrance felt like stepping onto an eggshell, and your mind started to wonder. was he not actually here? where could he have gone then?

“babe—”

in a flash, you were tightly enveloped by a pair of arms that knocked the wind out of your lungs. you almost lost your footing if it weren’t for the wall right behind you while, in front of you, your lover’s shaking eyes were trying to immortalize every detail of your face onto the canvas of his mind.

“reader…” wanderer mumbled, his cold hands cupping your cheeks like they were made of glass. “you’re here.”

a complicated feeling began to creep up inside of your chest. you didn’t even have the heart to “pfft” at his bangs that looked like a kindergartener had cut it (which wasn’t far from the truth). the crooked ups and downs of his bangs were the least of your concerns.

“i’m so sorry, wanderer,” you whispered as you reached up and gently held his wrists. “i’ve been so busy with attending meetings and approving requests that—”

“shut it.”

wanderer leaned in and hungrily captured your lips with his, and it didn’t take long before they began to trail butterfly kisses down your jaw and to your neck. his grazing teeth coaxed small noises from your mouth as they made light work of your sensitive skin.

“wanderer, wait…”

he pulled back momentarily to look you dead in the eye. “i have waited far too long,” wanderer snarled. “just let me have you, reader…”

you could not risk losing the ability to walk like last time. an idea came over you in that moment to break the spell clouding wanderer’s eyes with lust and desire.

“i’M gONna mAke tHem rEGret pRioriTiziNg thEir worK oVEr Me!” you cried out dramatically as if you had been fatally wounded.

your allusion was so out of character that it completely caught him off guard. as wanderer pressed his lips into a thin line, he created some room for jesus between his body and yours and asked in a contemptuous voice, “did lesser lord kusanali make you come here?”

“of course not. i’m here because of you, babe.” you chuckled. “did you think i wouldn’t notice all the subliminal messages you planted in your works?”

wanderer’s eyes widened in light of that. “you read the scholars’ papers?”

“not typically, but i asked the sage of the vahumana darshan to provide me with yours,” you clarified.

you adored the way your partner wrote—even if he always acted like crafting those essays together was a chore. reading his dissertation on societal issues in inazuma was actually how you two crossed paths, as you voraciously sought the author behind it. who would have predicted that the aloof, cold stranger nahida introduced to you as “hat guy” became your clingy mess of a boyfriend years later?

“whatever, don’t pull that disappearing act on me again,” he snapped, flicking your forehead in an odd display of affection. you held back a few colorful words from the sheer strength he put into that finger.

“it’s not like i was trying to avoid you,” you stated. “plus, i would argue that you disappeared, too, babe. even our archon couldn’t surmise where you ran off to.”

“well, you knew where to find me.” and that’s all that matters, he chose not to add.

a soft laugh bubbled from your throat as you directed your attention back to what made him disappear in the beginning. “hey… there’s no need to doll yourself up to get my attention.” you gently swept his silky bangs to the side. “you are always on my mind and even more so when we’re apart.”

a hush descended over the world around you two as wanderer squinted his troubled eyes and averted them to the floor in deep thought.

he could not kid himself any longer. you, a measly and pathetic mortal, had successfully slipped past the outer shell he built to fool irminsul into believing that he was not an individual worthy of loving, existing, redeeming.

“...”

“wanderer?”

"...rea..."

reader, each day felt longer than the last without you by my side.

i never thought i would have a person in this world who wanted me as much as you do.

if i had to thank beelzebub for one thing, it would be creating me so that i could meet you.

you are the center of my universe.

“teyvat to wanderer…?”

but wanderer would rather die than say allat. hmm, maybe he’ll put those heartfelt words on paper so that you can read them in your office, giggling and kicking your feet.

in the meantime, he settled on dragging you to the bedroom. “you’re getting punished anyway.”

“wha…!? wait, wanderer!”

but on the inside, you were so happy that it didn’t matter if your boyfriend had to fly you to the akademiya every morning for the next several days. you wished for nothing to take away the beautiful smile you could see creeping onto his face.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kabukimono x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #fluff #crack #comfort #angst #stella writes — !#snip! snip! snip...!

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thedreamlessnights · 6 months

Text

Fixation

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: When a mistranslated ancient spell goes wrong, you're forced to suffer the consequences. Astarion takes a keen interest in your... predicament.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac spell, Spawn!Tav, established relationship, possessiveness. Brief referrals to the Rite of Profane Ascension and Cazador. Fingering, oral sex (receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex. Brief overstimulation, praise, mild degradation, uses of the terms 'pet' and 'consort.'

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: And here's the second of my parallel aphrodisiac fics for Non-Ascended vs. Ascended Astarion! It was honestly very interesting to write the differences between them. The Non-Ascended one is much softer than this - please mind the tags!

The book must be hundreds of years old, but it feels warm in your hands. You’ve perused it inside and out, practically memorizing the faded runes. Fixation. It’s a weakness of yours.

Still, how often is it that you find an ancient book of spells? Who knows if you might discover some long-lost secret buried within the pages. And, yes: you’re bored.

Your messy translations are not ideal for this sort of thing, which is exactly why you’ve chosen a basic spell to start with. It’s mid-afternoon, quiet and still, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the room.

The long-forgotten words flow from your mouth like honey - as if they’ve been waiting for centuries just to be said. Light and sweet, they settle into the room and linger for just a moment. Some spells can be felt in the very air, manifesting as an electric haze that tickles the lungs, but not this one. When the sound of your voice fades away, the only sign that the spell has worked is a gentle heat that settles in your skin.

For a long moment, you kneel, studying the small scrape on your finger and waiting for something to happen. If you’d translated correctly, this should have been a basic healing spell with enough capacity to mend small cuts and burns. An increasingly pleasant heat builds in your veins, but the scrape remains untouched.

It should have worked by now. But if it wasn’t a healing spell, then…

Your eyes turn back to the pages, flickering between the references you’d found and the runes. Something connects. A line you hadn’t seen. A word you hadn’t added. The runes on the page - they’re not for healing, like you’d thought. But if they don’t mean health, then…

You stare at it a moment longer.

Lust.

“Oh. Oh, gods.”

You rise to your feet like you’ve been slapped. The heat is bearable for now but growing incessantly, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. No counterspell. No healing potion. Anything you try could just as well make it worse. Which poses the question: what the hells are you going to do?

You suck in a deep breath.

First things first: you need to get out of this room. The air is feeling like it might strangle you.

The chill of the hall greets you sweetly as you pace up and down the walkway, weighing your options. A spell this simple shouldn’t last long. It’ll most likely linger for only a few hours, then dissipate. It doesn’t seem dangerous. It’s not painful. Not yet, at least.

You could lock yourself in the cellar for the night, but that isn’t exactly appealing. The bedroom wouldn’t work, either. It’s Astarion’s room too, after all.

Astarion. Just the thought of him sends sparks flaring through you. It ladles heat into a very pleasant spot in your abdomen, and something flutters deep in your gut. Gods, what you wouldn’t give for him to be touching you.

But he cannot find out about this. By the hells, he can’t ever find out, because if he does, you will never live this down. Which leaves two options: you can either go to dinner and attempt to act like you’re fine, or you can try to hide away in one of the rooms and wait it out.

Neither one is ideal. Being physically near him, he’ll be able to read you like a book - which makes dinner a very dangerous concept. But if you neglect to show up at all? He’ll be even more suspect. He’ll certainly seek you out and find out the truth in the end.

So. Dinner it is.

You’ll just have to keep yourself composed, somehow. If only doing was as easy as thinking. But do you really have a choice?

No, you think.

You don’t.

As soon as he’s through the door, Astarion’s eyes are on you. They always seem to be, these days. Ever since the Ascension. His dark consort, his right hand. His, for whatever he wants. He never seems to see you like he used to, but the sting of that faded long ago. Another thing lost to the ritual.

“Hello, my treasure,” he greets.

You offer him a smile as he takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the skin. You can only hope he doesn’t notice the fear in your eyes or the way you’re trembling.

The gods must be on your side, because he’s distracted. The moment he releases you, he’s talking with a servant about something or other. You can barely keep up with the politics of the city on a normal day, much less on one with flaming lust in your stomach.

So you follow him to the table like a puppet, moving to your usual seat opposite his. It seems much closer together than usual. Everything does. He could be across the room, and you’d still feel like he was at your side, his breath at your neck. You’re almost grateful that the near-only things you can consume are blood and wine, because your trembling fingers are not fit to handle a knife.

After you’ve taken your seat, you have to put all of your attention into holding your glass. You’d try to act natural, but you can’t even remember what that feels like anymore. Does your skin look cold enough? Is your smile convincing? Is the picture you’re painting compelling, or will your imperfections give you away?

For a moment, Astarion’s attentions are focused on his papers. Then, with a sigh, he sets them aside and looks at you. He seems bored, more than anything. Not suspicious yet. “And how was your day, pet?” he asks.

Your grip tightens around your glass. “Good,” you manage to say. “I found a new book in the library.”

He raises a brow. “Did you?”

You nod, attempting to bury yourself in a sip of wine, but it doesn’t work. The more he looks at you, the more the feeling grows. Your hands are slick. Your mind feels clouded over.

“A - ah, book of poetry.” Your voice shakes as you speak, and the betrayal of it is like a dagger in your chest.

He sets down his knife and fork.

Already? you think, lightheaded and humiliated. Gods - you’d known he’d likely catch on sooner or later, but, really? Not even two minutes in? It’s pathetic.

But you aren’t going to give in yet. Astarion may have the winning card in his hand, but you’re determined to play this game for all it’s worth. So you set down the wine, fold your hands in your lap as if you aren’t struggling with keeping still, and give him your prettiest smile.

The glint in his eye grows. “Really?” he purrs, tilting his head. “I didn’t know you liked poetry.”

And as soon as he’s spoken, his voice is in your mind - words you’d thought you’d forgotten, pressing to the front of your thoughts.

It’s a poem. A gift from Cazador.

The first time you’d seen his scars.

“I…” Your voice chokes, and you swallow hard. “I don’t read it often. But I enjoy it, sometimes.”

He hums in response. His eyes are fixed on yours like a predator - watching your every move. Every blink. Every swallow. Every tremble. He’s waiting for you to break.

You don’t. Not yet.

“And you?” you ask. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” he muses, his hand gesturing indifferently. “The usual.”

But you don’t know how it is. He hasn’t told you a word about his work, and you’ve never invited yourself into it. He leans back in his seat, and his expression molds into something complacent as you struggle to find the right thing to say.

You decide that wine on your tongue will be much better than words. It’s rich and dark, mildly bitter, and heady. It lingers for a long moment after you’ve drunk, sloshing around your glass as you swirl it.

The end is coming. Your body is fighting you tooth and nail. Your hands are shaking, your mouth is dry, and your head is foggy. Setting the wine down shouldn’t be a difficult thing, but it feels like trying to thread a rose stem through the eye of a needle - painful and futile.

Your wrist twitches. A tiny, incomprehensible mistake. The goblet nicks the edge of the table, your grip loosens, and the next thing you know, there’s wine everywhere. Bleeding over the top of the table. Dripping into your lap. Splashed over your chest. The taste of it is still in your mouth, bitter on your tongue.

“You’ve gotten clumsy, pet,” Astarion says. He places his hands on the table, pushes to his feet, and approaches with a languid stride, amused and possessive in his gaze. You meet his eyes, determined not to break.

He grabs a clean napkin and half-heartedly dabs the wine off of you, stopping to swipe a droplet off your chest with his finger. Then he lifts it into his mouth, never looking away. “You’re trembling,” he says.

“Am I?” Your voice is breathless. “That’s strange.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you feeling alright, dearest?”

“Me?” you ask, your hands clenching into fists. “Of course I am.”

He stares at you. You stare at him. He raises a brow. You paste on your sweetest smile, just for him.

“You know,” he sighs, circling behind you, “I do hate it when you lie to me.”

The feeling in your gut is ravenous now. You’re nothing short of feverish, buried in a haze of sheer need. You need him more than you have ever needed before. You will not let yourself have him.

You play this game with him because, no matter what he says, you know he wants you to. You slot yourself in as his pawn, settling into your place, competing with him even though the game is rigged from the start; all because he wants it. He wants you to lose, and to beg for him to touch you. And, gods help you, despite this cruel, vicious thing he’s become, you still want him.

He reaches out to a loose strand of your hair, tucking it away behind your ear. “I want the truth,” he says, leaning in close. You’re shivering with desire. Every part of you wants him near. You fight the impulse to make a sound, and he steps away.

“I really am feeling fine,” you insist.

His eyes pass over you. You can feel the way they trail along your features, both analytical and skeptical. His head tilts and he smirks, and you know you’ve lost. Just like he wanted you to.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Little love,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb along your jaw. His touch is warm, skimming against your skin. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament, haven't you?” The corner of his lips flick into a smile, but his eyes stay cold as ice. “I know lust when I see it.”

Then, he lets you go.

You want to beg him to come back.

“What a shame,” he muses. “I have so much work to do tonight. You’ll wait for me, won’t you, my sweet?”

You will. You don’t have any choice.

A small sound involuntarily chokes from your throat, and his eyes narrow. “Now, now,” he chides. “Be patient.”

He returns to the doorway, studying your appearance with a smug sort of satisfaction. “Oh, and darling?” he says. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.”

He pulls the door shut after him, and you stare blankly ahead.

Gods. He’s going to drag this out. You know he will - he loves to see you squirm. But to tell you that you can’t touch yourself? It’s particularly cruel.

But this is where he wants you. You’d lost the game, and this is how you’re paying for it.

The time ticks by. The feeling in your gut grows. You have to squeeze the armrests of your chair to keep them from straying. Heat flushes through every part of your body.

It’s a strange thing, being warm. It’s been months since you’ve had warm blood in your veins. You’d almost forgotten how it felt. It only makes this sensation so much more overwhelming.

It’s like the sun kissing your skin. It’s like fire, searing through your chest. It’s both pain and pleasure, mingling in your senses. More pleasure, perhaps, if you were allowed to touch yourself. You don’t dare to, not even once. Not even a little. No matter how much you want to.

When the door finally opens again, you let out a rush of air. Relief. Sheer relief. But Astarion doesn’t move toward you. He goes to the papers he’d left on the table, rummaging through them. He finds the one he wants, pauses, then glances at you.

“My, my. Look at you,” he remarks. “Gods below. You’re a mess, darling.”

It’s only then that you realize he’s not coming back yet. He’s not here to touch you.

“Astarion-”

The look he gives you silences your words. Your mouth snaps closed, and you try to resist the urge to sob.

“Patience,” he says. His tone is a warning, low and dark. “Or you’ll get nothing at all.”

The door shuts once more, and this time, a noise breaks free from your throat.

You should have just told him. You’d have lost the game all the same, but he might have taken pity on you. But you’d lied to him. You’d kept it hidden. You hadn’t begged.

His message is as clear as day. This is what you get. This is your punishment.

You’d just had to try out that spell book, hadn’t you? You couldn’t have left it alone? Now look at you. Shaking, clinging onto the chair so tightly that your fingers are beginning to go numb. You feel rabid. Whatever self-control is leashing you is beginning to slip.

Just hold on, you tell yourself. Just until he comes back.

So you wait. Your body feels like it’s on fire, but you wait.

You’ve just begun to consider touching yourself, consequences be damned, when you finally hear the blissfully familiar sound of Astarion’s voice.

“I’m here now, my dear,” he announces. “You can stop terrorizing the poor chair.”

He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a mix of desire and possessiveness. You have to stare at him for a good ten seconds before you realize that he’s actually there, not just a vision. That your torment will soon be over.

His words finally connect with your mind and register somewhere within the mess of need. Your hands loosen from their grip, and a soft noise escapes from your lips. From pain or want, you don’t know.

“Kneel,” he says.

Your legs tremble when they stand, as if they might finally give out. You sink to your knees, barely feeling the hard stone beneath you.

Astarion takes two fingers and places them under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “My pet, do you want me?”

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“Tell me.”

You swallow hard. “I - I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you.”

His head tilts. “Good.”

He drops his fingers. You want to scream at the loss of his touch.

“Get up,” he instructs.

You can barely move, but you do it. Your knees shake. You want to grab onto him for support, but you know you shouldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, his hand wraps around your waist. “Just look at you,” he murmurs, echoing his statement from earlier. His other hand comes up to your mouth, his thumb brushing against your lips.

Then his hand on your waist trails up your back, up your neck, fisting into your hair. “And all for me.”

He pulls you close and kisses you hard. Bruising. His hand cups your cheek, his grip tightens in your hair. His lips are warm and soft and demanding, coaxing your mouth open as he walks you into the table. The back of your legs meet the edge and you pull away to sit, panting as he sets himself over you, straddling your hips.

His eyes are dark and hazy, trailing over you in a way that makes you shiver.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing a finger along your cheek. His lips move to your jaw, trailing feather light kisses along the bone, and you tilt your head to give him full access to your neck. He hums an approval into your skin.

You barely feel it when his teeth sink in and draw blood. There’s only a faint flash of pain, a muddled sensation beneath your want. You feel his hand rest on your hip. His gentle, wet tongue, darting out to clean the wound.

If he doesn’t touch you soon, you’re sure you’ll combust.

“Astarion,” you breathe, gripping onto the back of his shirt. You know he heard you, but he keeps kissing down your throat, stopping at your collar bones to brush his lips over them. A sharp nip. An apologetic kiss to soothe the sting.

“Astarion, please,” you repeat.

“Hm?” He doesn’t bother to pull away. He simply undoes the lacing of your clothing without looking and tosses the outfit across the room.

“Touch me,” you beg.

At that, he finally stops kissing you and looks up at you, something dark and hungry simmering in his gaze. “Dearest, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he drawls, “but I am touching you.”

You’re in no mood to deal with this - not with the scorching flame inside that will not let up even for an instant. “You know what I mean,” you snap. “Please, gods. Touch me.”

But the more desperate you are, the more he pulls back from you. He gives you a look - half amused, half bored. “But I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I can’t read your mind anymore, my sweet. Don’t you remember?”

Anger and frustration cloud your vision in a veil of red. A sharp noise chokes through your chest, and you tighten your grip on his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin. “Fuck me, Astarion. Please.”

The corners of his mouth flick into a self-satisfied smile. “You’re lucky I like you, little love,” he murmurs, easing your legs apart with his thigh, and you sigh in relief, relaxing into his touch as he returns to kissing your neck. “But you wouldn’t deny me a taste, surely?” he asks. “I want everyone in the city to hear you screaming my name.”

And then he drops to his knees.

You’re left shivering with need, so desperate that your vision seems to be clouding over. The top layer of your clothing has been removed, but you’re still in your smallclothes, and he of course takes his sweet time with you. The feel of his tongue through the fabric of your smalls, so desperately close to where you need him to be - but not there, not yet there - is all but maddening. You fix your hand into his hair and try to relax, but you’re so tightly-wound that you feel like a rope about to snap.

How the hells are you supposed to relax when the sweet friction of his mouth is pressing against your clit - when he’s on his knees for you, his grip on your thighs bruising and almost, almost perfect? You could come like this, riled up to the point of climax, but that would be too easy. He’d never let it be that easy.

Instead, he brings you to the verge of orgasm, bites at the tender flesh of your thigh, then pulls away.

“Gods,” you mutter, caught between feeling like the tiniest action will send you into waves of pleasure and simultaneously feeling like you’re going to black out. “Astarion-”

“Shh,” he says, still on his knees. “Relax, pet.”

Out of the two of you, he’s in the more vulnerable position, but you’d never know it from the way he’s practically holding you down on the top of the table - from the way his eyes are devouring you, practically daring you to protest.

You know him. The more you rebel, the less he’ll give you. So you don’t. You force yourself silent and suck in a breath or two, trying to remember the way oxygen tastes, trying to keep the dam inside you from bursting open.

A small sob breaks free, but aside from that, you’re a statue. A lustful, slightly relaxed statue. It’s all you can give, and it must be enough, because he finally pulls your smalls off of you.

They’re so wet from his tongue and from your arousal that they stick to you, and you can see the way his gaze darkens. The way he swallows, taking in a deep breath and setting them aside. He could keep you here all night, but he’d be torturing himself, too.

He starts slowly again, and with every graze of his warm fingers, with every brush of his skin against yours, your body bucks into his touch. It doesn’t matter where or how brief; it’s just the silky trailing of his fingertips over your abdomen, your body is still chasing the minimal pleasure his presence gives you. If it’s his thumb against your clit, your body still shudders the way you know he wants you to.

When his tongue finally, finally meets your clit, you let out a sharp gasp and have to physically stop yourself from following that feeling, from grinding against his mouth the way you so desperately want to. Your nails dig into the tablecloth, but you let him keep his own pace. His own agonizing, teasing pace.

One finger, slipping inside of you, finding the electrifying spot inside of you that has you moaning his name, your hand tightening in his hair and your hips bucking of their own accord. Then one becomes two. A slow, even rhythm of thrusting that slowly grows harder, faster, deeper.

He brings you right back to the edge, and this time, he lets you come.

Your body tenses. Your grip tightens even more. He groans against you, and the vibrations of it course out through your skin. The rope of tension pulls and pulls and pulls until it finally snaps, leaving you shuddering and mindlessly crying out, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra.

Just like he’d said it would.

Your consciousness seems to float away from your body - a blinding, sharp pleasure that comes to you in a pulsing, ambrosial wave. When you come down, you’re still burning. The fire wanes a little, but won’t be sated. Not that easily. In many ways, it’s just like Astarion. Running you through, filling you with need, and not letting you go until it’s done with you.

When you come down, you find yourself with wet thighs and covered in sweat, your breath pulling unnaturally from your lungs until you’ve recovered. You’re still shaking, and Astarion is still between your legs - licking at sensitive skin.

You whimper, and he finally pulls away, his pupils blown wide and an impatience to his expression. Possessiveness. Need. He rises to his feet and winds a hand in your hair, pulling your head back with a grip that borders on painful.

He doesn’t say a thing, but his gaze speaks volumes - the glittering, dark ruby of his eyes, the almost removed way he observes you, eyes trailing over your face. Studying how he’s ruined you, no doubt.

He releases his hold on you, and though you can see his erection through his trousers, his movements are slow - methodical, almost. When he speaks, his voice is low and dark.

“Come here, my sweet, little consort.”

And you do. With your still-shaking legs, you slide off the table and take a step closer, unsure how near he wants you.

“Turn around,” he instructs.

And you do.

You only register his hand on the nape of your neck when your cheek connects with something hard. The table. He’s bent you over it and is standing behind you, and the impact barely smarts in comparison to the heat that floods between your legs.

“You like it like this, don’t you?” Astarion muses, dragging a finger along your spine. “You want everyone to know who you belong to. You want me to fuck you into this table and let everyone hear how much you need me.”

And you can’t even argue with him. You can’t argue, because you know he’s right - and he knows it, too.

You swallow hard, back arching toward his hand. “Yes.”

He’s silent for a moment, tracing his hand along your back. Then he presses his thumb to your clit and you mindlessly grind into him, barely resisting the urge to beg him to just fuck you already.

Then you hear fabric shifting, and your whole body tenses in anticipation of him.

He’s not gentle, and he’s not tender. He sheathes himself into you in a single, harsh thrust that has you crying out, your hands scrabbling for something to grasp for support but finding nothing.

“Gods,” he growls, his grip settling on your hips and pressing into the skin as he sets a rough, punishing pace. His voice is breathless when he speaks. “You look so pretty for me, pet. Bent over like this. Say my name for me, won’t you?”

You can barely choke out the sound between his thrusts, but it comes out of you nonetheless. “A… A-star-ion-”

“Good,” he says, and then his pace turns brutal, every thrust sending your cheek scraping against the table. There’s pain, but you barely feel it - not against the burning pleasure of him inside you, filling you up, and not against the fire in your skin that’s building to a boiling point again.

Over and over.

His breathing is getting faster. His grip on you is ever tightening, sure to leave a number of tender bruises for the morning. He’ll kiss them, then, draw his fingers over them in admiration, but for now: he groans and grips at your hair again, and you sit there and take every inch he’s giving to you until you can barely stand it - the sweet, delectable friction of him inside you, the vulgar, wet noises that echo around the room. Evidence of how much you want him. How close you are.

“Tell - tell me you’re mine,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I’m yours.”

He thrusts even harder, and it vaguely occurs to you that you might not be able to walk tomorrow. You can feel the tell-tale signs of him getting closer - the tensing of his thighs, the panting as he approaches climax, the moans he’s letting out. He pauses mid-thrust and trembles for a moment before he slams back into you once, twice - three times.

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge with him, clenching around him, barely conscious of the table under you, barely conscious of the fact that both of you are in the dining room and almost certainly the servants are able to hear what he’s doing to you.

You can feel him seeping out of you, trickling down your thighs, and you go slack against the table, gasping and trying to remember how to breathe.

He finally releases your hair and pulls out of you, paying no mind to the way you wince.

You definitely won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“What a good little pet you are,” he remarks, smoothing your hair away from your neck and placing a kiss to the nape. When he speaks again, his voice has gone to that pouty, condescending tone that he sometimes uses. “You wouldn’t dream of doing that to me again, would you, my treasure? Lying to me? Hiding your own pleasure from me? And at my table, nonetheless.”

You attempt an answer, but it comes out as nothing but a helpless whimper.

“What was that?” he asks.

“No,” you breathe.

“Good.”

He straightens, running a finger between your legs - no doubt studying the mess he’s made of you.

“Get up,” he says. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

You unstick yourself from the table, legs trembling, and as his gaze travels over you once more, you have a deep, sudden feeling in your gut. It’s too easy. Too easy for you. Even after all the torment you’d faced earlier, stranded and desperate in your chair, it’s not enough. He’s not done with you yet.

And if you know him at all…

It’ll be surprising if he’s finished with you before morning.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

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lovelykhaleesiii · 3 months

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Brains & Barbie!

PAIRING: Michael Gavey x fem!BIMBO!Reader

WORDS: 1,515.

SUMMARY: Polar opposites attract right? It’s science. Who knew you would fall so helplessly in love with the math geek of the century…

WARNINGS: female receiving (fingering), swearing, degradation kink, some praise kink, edging, cum play, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing.

A/N - it has been a hot minute since I wrote for an Ewan character, so forgive me I’m a little rusty.

this fic is dedicated to my soul sister @sahvlren as it was her bday recently, and she requested this specifically. I love you so very much, and am so thankful to have you as my dearest friend, boo. one day we shall meet, but for now we get freaky online! enjoy xoxox

+++ in light of the recent drama unfolding in this hellsite, I thought some good ole' smut would do no harm, right?

forgive me I shall edit this properly, but I must sleep for my night shift lol

You weren't exactly the perfect pair to exist, nor would any like minded person think it best to put you two together in a roo, let alone become intimate. And yet, so effortlessly you both meshed rather well...Michael, your "Norman No Mates" boyfriend [as he enjoyed putting it], was quite a mathematical genius. His family were somewhat stable and well off, however, he rejoiced in the idea that he worked his way into the academy, where as your situation was quite the opposite. Your father had attended Oxford and graduated, as did your grandfather, who also sponsored and funded many of its restorations and renovations. The ancient establishment owed many of its complexes to your family name, and hence, granted you a position in their literature field, warranted you did try to maintain your grades above a credit average, trimming it with a pass even...

You had tipsily stumbled upon Michael at some college party: he stood by some dark corner, a drink in hand and the other in his pocket, before you had ignorantly walked into him, mindless to your surroundings from intoxication. You had either gone to refill your drink or was seeking the bathroom [you struggle to remember the fine details of the night you had met], laughing obnoxiously at some joke your friend had uttered, before walking into the man that would ultimately make you weak in your knees.

"S-Sorry-" You softly slurred, spilling your drink on the floor, a droplet landing on your heel.

At first it sounded as though an apparent swear seemingly seethed between his curved lips, halting himself before cursing you further, as he adjusted his thin framed spectacles, marvelling at you.

"Y-You alright, love?"

The next thing you knew, you found yourself hot and heavy, heated bodies, grinding against one another, as Michael teased and etched his impressively long cock, at your silky folds. His mouth latched to your unmissable cleavage, as he suckled on your breasts like a new born babe to its mother's teat.

No man had ever made you feel more desired, and yet a fool at his beck and call. He uttered despicable taunts and jabs at you, whilst simultaneously, worshipping the ground you strut on.

"The sluttiest girl on campus just couldn't resist the cock of a geek, huh? Making her even more stupid than she is, look at you... Pathetic baby."

His words stung a compelling sensation, and yet you craved for more of his undivided attention. And seemingly, Michael granted you every fathomable bit he could muster. You were the girl beyond his dreams, needless to say, he never thought he even stood a chance with any girl, of that matter. And he as a man, beyond your tastes. However, the tension was palpable between you two, the chemistry undeniable.

You often found yourself unwittingly seeking his company, even risking your privilege in the confines of his dorm...

"How long left, Mikey. I'm s'bored!" You whinge, as you fidget and reposition yourself sprawled on your boyfriend's single-sized bed. Flinging your flip phone to the side, without a care for consequences [your parents would simply purchase a new one for you]. Despite being in somewhat sheerly covered attire, your ass cheeks just peaking through beneath your skirt, Michael barely felt the temptation to see [if he was even aware of your current outfit].

"Wait. Need to finish this equation."

His stern, unwavering voice and unfazed focus ontp the paper and textbooks before him, made your eyes roll with such annoyance, defeatedly sighing. The repetitive sound of his pencil thudding at his head, and your rhythmical humming, filled the silent void.

"Ugh- Michael, you should have just told me to not come- There was a party, I could have been at—"

"Do you not have an essay due by the end of the week?"

You contemplate for a few, solid seconds, before realising there was truth to his words. You did have an assignment due in the imminent days to come, and you had yet to begin.

"W-Well, yes... But I was hoping you would help me, handsome."

"Is that so?"

His attention still remained down, fixated on the text before him, yet his tone elevated, intrigue plaguing his words.

"I-I mean I'll still write it out, y-you just need to guide me—”

Swiftly he swivelled his entire body in the desk-top chair to turn unto you, a cheeky grin plastered across his chiselled face.

"Baby, you can barely do your times-tables, you think you can write an whole essay? Adorable..."

"But I sure know how to fuck you good. What man of your calibre can have a girl like me, say that to a man like you, huh?"

A darkness tinged in his piercing blue orbs, intently watching your every move and gesture, as he notices your hand hovering between your thighs, before disappearing beneath the short, skimpy skirt.

"Mhmm—"

Your thoughtless moans began to echo between the confined blank walls of the dorm, squirming against the neatly folded fabrics of the bed.

"And what do you think you're doing, exactly?"

Two digits continued to delve deeper between your folds, drawing slow, circular motions as your thumb remained rubbing at your clit. You had been biting your lips, only to release a moan, as you intended to respond obediently.

"M-My boyfriend's a bore, s-so I'm t-taking matters into m-my own h-hands—"

"Is that so?"

Without so much as a warning, a force pried your hands out from beneath your walls, your wetness coating your fingers and knuckles, glistening in the dim light. Within a few seconds, the emptiness between your legs vanished, as a rougher, more sizeable host embedded itself between your velvet folds.

With roughness, and vastly more pace, Michael's lengthy, slim digits began to etch deeper and deeper inside of you, pumping his fist in and out of you, as his other hand laid to rest against the mattress, propping him upright. Your hands immediately laid at your sides, firmly clenching the quilt between for some steadiness.

"Does my little slut have no patience? Brain to numb to think, she just wants to be fucked all the time, huh?"

"Y-Yes—"

Just as your ecstatic cries and moans grew more frequent, Michael's breathing sounded heavier, feeling your warm wetness making a mess all along his hands and the crevices of your entrance.

"This slut could've bent over to anyone. No-No, but she did for me, yeah? So needy for cock, she didn't even learn her times tables, huh?"

"I-I need you, M-Mikey—"

A third long digit shoved itself deeper into your tight hole, panting beneath your grip as you felt yourself fervently clench around him.

"That's right, princess. You need me. No man is worthy of this pretty cunt of yours, I earned it."

As you felt yourself progressively lose all your senses. gaining traction to the heat stirring below, Michael's sudden release felt cathartic. Watching him lick and lap every inch of your wetness lingering over his hand, made you feel delectable. Your lustful eyes searched below, for a fleeting second, you caught the growing commotion in his pants, as the bulge was evident, its shadow against the restricted fabric. As he tasted the last drop, a snarky smirk expanded across his handsome face, before beginning to unbelt and unbutton his beige trousers.

"C'mon princess, spread those legs like you always do, like you were born to do. Such a fucking whore, that's all you were meant for. Meant for me."

Aligning himself so effortlessly perfect against your, his reddened tip blushed against your sight, teasing your silky folds. His veins throbbed with excitement, almost palpable between your sensitive entrance, its length girth suddenly plunging itself ever so slowly inside of you.

With a first, rough shove, delving himself completely inside of you, his balls hitting at your rear, an escape of a low grunt vibrated against his lips, that remained hovering over your soft skin. Michael kept himself steadily propped atop of you: with each thrust, equally time and paced, his weight began to drop over you, applying the pressure down from above with his cock inside of you.

"The most perfect cunt, for the most perfect girl. And it's mine."

"M-Michael—"

"S-Stastically we a-are an anomaly, b-but my princess f-found me, like a good girl—”

“A-Anomaly?"

A deep, growling chuckle escaped his lips, his pace growing sloppier as he attempted to articulate: despite Michael having you weak in the knees in bed, he was still somewhat new at the act of sex. Struggling to juggle with the need to fuck and the need to explain, his lean, tall figure cowering over you, his eyes shut with ecstasy momentarily, before opening to glare and marvel at you breathlessly. Your lips latched onto his neck and collarbones in between your moans, intently sucking at his tender flesh, desperate to taste him, to leave remnants of your physical love, strewed across his body. Desperate to savour every inch of him.

"An odd couple, baby. B-But you take me so fucking well—"

"Mhmm—"

"There's no going back now, Princess..."

credit for divider - @/prettypixels-love

#michael gavey #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey imagines #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fanfiction #saltburn #michael gavey x fem!reader #Michael Gavey x bimbo!reader #michael gavey x y/n

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 5 months

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Studious VI (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+ FINALE

Five months after your reconciliation, you and Aemond have grown ever closer. When he returns from his first time away from you, you have a surprise ready for him.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: kissing, oral sex (M and F receiving), p in v sex, fluff

Author's Note: And with this, the series is complete! I want to thank you all so much for all the support y'all have given my silly little story. I truly cherish every reply, comment, or like it receives.

And fear not! This isn't the end of the journey for our lovely, stupid couple. On the 21st, I will be releasing another short fic as part of my 12 Days of Smuff event. If there will be anything more beyond that, it remains to be seen!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here - Read Part V Here

My Masterlist

Taglist is in reblogs

Studious VI

It was the middle of the afternoon, and though the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, there was still a chill in the air. You had uncovered all the windows in the room, so it was quite cold within the stone walls. Therefore, you were curled up on a large, plush chair – Aemond’s reading chair – contentedly snuggled within your oversized robe.

And only the robe.

Vhagar’s mighty wingbeats had thundered above the keep not long ago. Thanks to the open windows, you’d heard it clearly – the chill was well worth it. A rush of excitement flowed through you, and you immediately traded your warm dress and stockings for the robe and took up your perch.

Aemond had been gone for four long, lonely, torturous days, and you were determined to be there the moment he walked through the door to his chambers.

It was the first time he’d left King’s Landing since your wedding five months ago and the first time the two of you had been apart for more than a few hours since your ‘reconciliation,’ as you had come to call it. Both of you argued passionately against it.

Neither of you could bear to be parted only two weeks after Grand Maester Orwyle confirmed that your nightly activities had resulted in the child now growing within you. Aemond wanted nothing more than to be by your side every moment until the babe was born. You weren’t opposed to it, though you did wonder about the practicality of such an arrangement.

But the Queen and the Hand insisted on Aemond going, rather than one of his siblings. The unfortunate result of his being the dutiful and trustworthy son, you supposed.

So, you had gone with him to the edge of the woods and watched as he mounted Vhagar and flew away. Of course, he had kissed you deeply before he left. Long enough for both Vhagar and the Dragonkeepers to begin subtly voicing their impatience. Had they not been there, you likely would have shared a more thorough goodbye.

Still, the four days felt like four years, four decades, four centuries. You would have gone mad if you hadn’t found something to do to fill the Aemond-shaped hole in your life. So you filled your time with planning how you would welcome him home.

You were sure he would be very pleasantly surprised.

Time passed quickly while you were held in suspense. The sound of soft, steady footsteps soon began echoing from the hall, and you just barely contained a squeal of delight. You readied yourself to leap, standing atop the chair to give you a better chance of actually landing on your target.

Then the door opened, and you pounced.

Thankfully, Aemond caught you easily. His strong, lithe arms wrapped around your hips and rear as if on instinct, and you were once more safe and secure.

You didn’t get to see his reaction to your leaping upon him, which you only regretted slightly as you pressed your lips hard against his

Aemond made a choked sound of surprise that soon faded into a low, passionate moan as he teased your lips open with his tongue to deepen the kiss. It still wasn’t your favourite sensation – a taste you had to acquire – but after days without it, it was almost enjoyable. Almost.

“I missed you so much, Aemond,” you whispered between kisses, strained and desperate as your fingers clawed at him, seeking to touch every inch of him. Every inch you had missed.

Aemond’s brow furrowed, but he did not stop kissing you. “I was only away four days, my love. Could you miss me so much in so short a time?”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eye as you touched the tip of your nose to his, widening your eyes and making a show of pouting. “Did you not miss me as well?”

He gave you the slightest glimpse of his startled fish face before kissing you again. “No… I longed for you every minute we were parted. It took all my strength to resist the temptation of forgoing my duty and returning to you. I missed you so much I ached.”

“Show me,” you commanded, smiling against his lips as you watched the realisation that you had never doubted his missing you dawn on his face with an affectionate, put-upon smile.

You squealed as he pulled you closer to his chest – you had not thought such a thing possible – and brought the hand that had circled your waist to cup your neck as he began kissing you again. Fiercely. Passionately. Lovingly.

The rooms were a blur as he began to blindly carry you into the bedroom, depositing you squarely in the middle of the bed. You were granted only a moment to catch your breath before he was on you again, his welcome weight pressing down on you as his heat continued to soak into your bones.

“If you were wearing anything else,” Aemond growled as his hands started furiously fumbling with the tie of your robe, “I would tear it to pieces.”

You bit down on his bottom lip, ever so slightly harder than you normally did to scold him. It did not work. It only prompted him to kiss you deeper.

“Were you ever to tear even a single thread of this robe,” you panted. “I would return to my father’s keep and never speak to you again.”

“Then I will be very careful, and…” Aemond trailed off when he opened your robe and realised you were bare beneath it.

His eye raked over you slowly, studying you as if you were a master artwork. His chest heaving, he slowly traced his hand from the base of your throat down to your navel, and when you shivered at the sensation, he shivered too.

He splayed his hand over your still-flat stomach, his eye sparkling as if he could see the babe within. “How is it possible that you become more beautiful every day?”

You laughed, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your hand. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Aemond. And I dare say that your eye is quite biased towards me.”

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Your beauty is utterly indisputable. Any who behold you and do not see it must be truly blind.”

You could not suppress the smile that came over you, wide and unyielding. “I will remind you of those words when I have grown as large as a bear and have the temper of a taunted goose.”

Aemond chuckled lowly, moving his mouth along your jaw and onto your neck. “Then I will say them again, for nothing could alter how I feel about you, my love.”

Any smart reply you had was quickly forgotten as his mouth followed the path his hand had just taken. Your only complaint was that his mouth was far slower. He would press a kiss or two against your skin, then momentarily lose his grip on whatever restraint he had. Then, he latched on, laving his tongue upon you as if he wished to devour you. Sometimes, he even lightly nipped you with his teeth, but he never failed to soothe the pain with more gentle kisses.

You could have happily let him continue for hours. But you had made plans, and you were going to follow through. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him close enough for you to whisper against his cheek. “Jiōrna mazumbilloti, ābrazȳrys.”

Your use of the Valyrian mother tongue surprised him, breaking him immediately from his lustful haze. He sat up and leaned over to kiss your cheek swiftly enough that you could only catch a glimpse of a mischievous smile.

“So close, but…” he apologetically kissed your nose. “You are ābrazȳrys. I am valzȳrys.” He pressed his finger on your skin just above your heart. “Ābrazȳrys – wife.” He moved the finger to his chest. “Valzȳrys – husband.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me, valzȳrys.”

He obliged, his mouth continuing its path down your front after a brief return to your breasts. The closer he came to your center, the louder your moans and pleas became.

He pulled away slightly when he finally reached your dripping cunt, chuckling slightly. “Oh, how I’ve missed this beautiful thing,” he mused.

You spread your legs as much as you could in a show of impatience. “Well, then you should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“I suppose.”

A desperate gasp escaped you as you felt him gently blow a cold breath onto your heated core. Your back arched as he did it again, tracing a line of cool air up and down your folds.

“Aemond,” you breathlessly begged, “I’ve already waited so long. Please, don’t tease me like this!”

You watched as he looked back up at you with a wicked grin. “I’ve waited just as long, my dear. I want to savour this. Make up for lost time.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, though you could not deny his plan sounded quite pleasant. “Savour me, then.”

He did.

Aemond’s mouth was thorough. In the five months since he’d first pleasure you like this, he’d become as skilled and precise with his tongue as he was with his sword.

His tongue found your pearl almost instantly and began teasing it ever so slowly, as if it were a game for him. He alternated between pressing on it, drawing circles and various shapes upon it, and sucking on it like a candied lemon.

He did not stop until he’d pulled two releases from you. Only then did he finally acknowledge your entrance beyond merely pressing against it with his chin while he focused elsewhere.

Had he not been so eager to lap up every bit of wetness from you, you were sure the bed linens would have been ruined for how much slick spilt from you. But he was voracious in devouring you – moaning and gasping nearly as much as you were. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he came simply from being buried in your thighs. He’d done it before, after all.

Your hands found their way into his hair as his tongue delved inside of you, his wonderful, glorious nose still giving your pearl the attention it craved. Holding onto him was the only way you could withstand the intensity of what he was doing to you, to keep it from overwhelming you.

It also helped that when you tugged on his hair or slightly dug your nails into his scalp, he groaned in pleasure, sending delicious vibrations through you as his hips bucked into the bed. And when your release barreled through you, and you pulled on his hair like it was the reins of a dragon, he nearly screamed against your cunt.

Aemond gazed up at you, his face glistening and flushed. “My sweet ābrazȳrys,” he hummed before ducking his head back between your thighs again.

“Ah, ah ah!” You scolded, using the hands you had in his hair to drag him back to your face, causing another satisfied moan to escape him. “By my count, I’m at three, while you’ve yet to have even one. Unless…?”

A glance at the front of his trousers confirmed that he had not come simply from pleasuring you, and you sighed dramatically. “Still at none, then.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Aemond placed shortcut soft kisses all over your face before retracing his path downwards. “Let me give you more.”

You yanked him up again, kissing him fiercely. “No. My turn.”

He rose onto his knees as you pushed on his chest, his eye never once leaving yours. You smirked as you sat up with him, your legs still between his.

“I’ll rid us of these,” you said as you began unlacing his trousers – fortunately, he’d removed the belts for his sword and dagger before he’d even come to his rooms. You nodded to his doublet. “If you get rid of that.”

You had still yet to master the ridiculous clasps and buckles on the damnable thing. And Aemond resisted all your efforts to have a new, less complicated garment made for him.

At least he did not tease you about it this time and began to remove it swiftly.

Still, you accomplished your task before he did his, and he fumbled slightly as he threw the rest of his clothes on the floor as you grasped his red, weeping length in your hand and began returning his affections.

“Oh gods,” he groaned, forgetting his doublet entirely. “Oh, dōnus riñus… sȳros. Sȳros!”

His hands flew to your head. He didn’t pull at your hair or dig his fingers in. Aemond never did; he was always gentle. He simply cupped the back of your head with one hand while the other held your cheek, stroking you with his thumb in time with your ministrations.

He had been right when he said that learning to please a man was substantially easier than learning to please a woman. There were some things you had to remind yourself of the first few times you’d done this – don’t squeeze too hard, don’t take him too deep, and never use your teeth.

But you’d had plenty of practice and knew precisely what Aemond liked.

You knew how much he liked it when you used the tip of your tongue to trace his slit before swirling it around the head of his cock.

You knew the way he liked you to play with his stones – caressing them lightly with just your fingertips, and every so often giving them the gentlest of tugs.

You knew exactly how to pace yourself in a way that drove him wild without speeding him towards an early end.

He begged. Several times, he begged you to go faster, to let him finish. But after he’d told you what he meant by “practice” in his diary, you knew he could take it. Knew he enjoyed it.

“Please,” he said breathlessly. You looked up to find tears streaming down from the corners of his eyes.

For a moment, you slowed, worrying that you’d pushed him too far, until he pulled you back down onto him so far your nose nuzzled into the silvery hair at his base.

Your hands went to his hips, bracing yourself while he pulled you forward and back. Always gently, but with more speed than you’d allowed him thus far.

It was the first time he’d ever taken charge in this particular scenario. He was always dominant in all other intimate moments, but never with this. Whenever you held him in your mouth, you commanded the prince.

The thrill of it sparked a burning heat of desire in your core, and you moaned around him.

It was enough.

Aemond pulled you as close as he could until your brow rested against his stomach, and he reached his peak. His entire body shook as he spilled himself down your throat. And he did not release you until he heard you struggling to keep him so deep.

“Oh, my darling, did I hurt you?” he asked as he again laid himself atop you.

You laughed, kissing him deeply. “No, Aemond. Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s a good hurt.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Don’t be, please. It was less of a hurt than you being gone.”

Aemond rolled onto his side to kiss you once more, languidly, now that the initial rush of lust had faded. You could almost feel his adoration as if it were a tangible thing. You held it tightly, and would never let it go. When he finally pulled away, his lips only left yours for a moment before he was again trailing his mouth along your neck to your chest.

“Well?” You asked. “Do you like your surprise?”

“It was wonderful, my love. Would it be indelicate of me to ask for more?”

You narrowed your eyes, tugging on his hair just enough to draw his attention away from your breasts and back to you. The moment he saw the confusion on his face, it was reflected in his own.

“This was not the surprise, Aemond.”

“Then what is?”

You smiled, looking dramatically over the bedchamber. Aemond only stared at you, waiting for you to speak, until you were forced to seize his chin and turn his head.

Then, he finally saw.

As his eye roved across the walls and shelves, he rose until he was kneeling in the center of the bed. You laid back against your pillow, watching him admire what you had spent the last four days doing.

The bare walls were no more. Now, they were filled with paintings, tapestries, and even a few little sculptures. By the bookshelves – which you had filled with as many trinkets as possible – you’d hung paintings depicting some of your favourite stories from fiction and history. A wrought-iron dragon flew across the space above the doorway. On another wall, a tapestry depicting your home keep surrounded by a field of dog roses hung proudly. And above the head of the bed, a new tapestry you had made in secret these past few months.

“Vhagar,” Aemond whispered when he saw it.

You let out a sigh of relief – you had not been sure whether he would recognise her. After all, the only time you saw the dragon was when Aemond took you to visit her. Making sketches on those few occasions would have swiftly given away your secret. Fortunately, Helaena was more than happy to help you in its creation.

Aemond moved closer to admire the tapestry, one leg falling off the bed. He started, looking down to find his foot had landed atop a plush blue rug. When he looked up to gape at you, his eye caught on the bursting of colour atop the armoire.

His plain stoneware and metal vases had been joined by others more intricate and brightly coloured. All of them were now filled with a vibrant bouquet. The one you’d painted yourself when you were young and thought yourself the next great painter was filled with bright pink dog roses, much to his delight.

“You decorated,” he said in awe as he faced you again. While he’d been surveying the room, you’d sat up, holding onto his arm and resting your head on his shoulder.

“No…” you teased, savouring that quick moment of his confusion before continuing, “I moved in.”

His face crumpled with an affection so strong you hardly knew how he contained it all.

Except you did know.

You did it, too.

“My dearest,” he sighed, “I – ”

“I love you, Aemond.”

The colour drained from his face, and you swore his breathing halted.

A roiling storm of emotions passed over his face. Unbridled joy, sweetest relief, depthless love, and a single moment of fear beneath it all. He’d told you only to say those words when you truly meant it with all your heart. His worry that you didn’t was clear.

You held his face in your hands and pulled him forward until his brow rested against yours. “I love you, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Not only with my whole heart, but with all that I am.”

A tear fell from his eye, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. “Oh my love,” he murmured like a prayer, “my love…”

Then he was upon you again. His mouth against yours, his comforting heat warming you. He wrapped his arms around you – one on your waist, one at your shoulder – and pulled you against him so tightly there was nowhere you were not touching.

“I love you, Aemond,” you repeated every time your lips parted from his. Each time, he nearly sobbed at the words.

You kissed for a long while, until you at last felt him hardening against you. For only a moment, he pulled away, his eyes still damp as he looked down at you.

“May I?”

Your only response was a smile and another kiss.

Aemond entered you in one long, gentle thrust.

That moment of stillness and adjustment was no longer strictly necessary, but you both still enjoyed it.

Just a moment to look at each other. To see the joy and now, the love within them. A moment to revel in the connection you shared and bask in the feeling of being whole with each other. Aemond kissed you again before he started thrusting into you. Both were gentle and slow, allowing you to cherish each other. You were not fucking to find release, but to simply be together.

There were times when Aemond was completely still as he ravished you with his mouth or hands rather than his cock. There were times when he rutted into you like a beast, only stopping so he could prolong the connection. And there were times when both of you were still, just embracing each other, breathing together, and knowing that you were loved.

Eventually, you could hold off your instincts no longer. You squirmed against Aemond to seek more pleasure – more of him. And he happily obliged. He braced one hand on your hip as he began to move. Faster and faster. With smooth, practised thrusts.

He was so familiar with your body that it did not take long for him to have you gasping as you approached your peak. He was already brushing against that wonderful spot inside you with every movement of his hips, and when he brought a finger to gently tease your pearl, you could not hold back.

Nor could Aemond. He buried himself in you entirely, his face falling into the crook of your shoulder as he moaned your name, along with several High Valyrian words you did not know.

You lifted his head to bring his lips to yours and kissed him until his breath steadied again.

“No,” you whined as he moved to sit up and pull his softened cock out of you. “Stay. Please.”

Aemond smiled as he understood your meaning, again pressing his hips against yours to keep himself inside you as he rolled you onto your sides. “If I could stay forever, I would.”

“I know.” You nuzzled into his neck. “In fact, I’d quite like it if you did.”

“Then so I shall.”

A long, peaceful silence passed between you. Your flushes faded, your breathing calmed, and the evening air began to blow through the windows and cool your hot skin.

The day was not yet over. There was still dinner to attend, and Aemond likely needed to meet with the Small Council to discuss his trip. Yet neither of you moved. You simply laid there, basking in the bliss of holding the person you love.

You loved him. You loved Aemond so much.

He’d said it so often to you in the past five months. You had a lot of catching up to do.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he replied.

“I love you.”

“I love you…”

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