#nonbinary reader insert

[distantdarlings]

ANY FEELINGS // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Gender-Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* As Theo plucks up the courage to ask you out on a date, you soothe your repressed feelings for the boy by filling your nights with other men.

+ WARNINGS - Mentions of smut! (But no actual). Sexual descriptions, language, gender-neutral reader, conflict between Cormac and Theo, very brief description of a fight (non-graphic), kissing, kissing w/o consent, not proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Consume - Chase Atlantic

- - -

“Dude, you're gonna have to grow some balls at some point…”

“Shut the fuck up, man!” 

Theo laid a slap to the back of one of his best mate’s heads. Enzo was a great friend, but he tended to be a bit too judgmental when it came to you. 

Theo had had some sort of feelings for you since he first met you, but whether they were platonic or romantic or…something else, he wasn’t sure. 

Enzo seemed to be completely confident that Theo’s feelings for you—whatever they may be categorized as—could be chalked up to one thing only: love. 

Every time Theo heard Enzo pleading with him to just ask you out or grab your hand while he was walking next to you, he lost more patience. The boy sitting next to him was stupid, but sometimes he wondered if he should even be permitted to attend Hogwarts. 

“I don’t know, man,” Mattheo piped up. “Maybe Enzo’s right…you seem pretty into them every time we all hang out.” The dark boy diagonal from Theo shrugged his shoulders. 

“How would either of you know how I’m feeling?” Theo asked, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because you fucking gawk at them everytime they’re around—I mean, you’re practically fucking drooling,” Enzo said, pursing his lips.

“Whatever, I am not.” 

“‘Not,’” Enzo mouthed to Mattheo, making air quotes with his fingers. 

Theo clenched his jaw and shoved the boy over, before getting to his feet.

The three of them had been sitting next to the Black Lake during dinner, hoping to get away from some of the noisy chatter in the Great Hall. 

“Look, just try it out,” Mattheo suggested, squinting against the sun. “Think about it tonight—”

“When you’re alone in bed and about to rub one out!” Enzo cut Mattheo off. Theo glared down at him in disgust. Just before he could react to what the boy had said, Mattheo smacked Enzo on the back of the head.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Mattheo started back. “I meant to mull it over as you’re about to fall asleep tonight. That’s generally when I can get the most thinking done. It’s quiet and nonjudgmental.” 

He glared over at Enzo.

“Alright, then,” Theo sighed, pressing a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “I guess I will.”

Once the three of them had separated and gone their own ways, Theo decided to make a change to his evening plans.

He had originally planned on following Mattheo down to the Three Broomsticks for a mug of Butterbeer, but—upon the dark-haired boy’s suggestion of staying in—he decided to head back into the castle.

He’d have a bit of a shower then take an early night so he could think about what he wanted to do. What he wanted to do about you. 

It wasn’t just the constant pressure from Enzo to ask you out that had you circling around his thoughts. He didn’t need the badgering from his friends to think about you. 

Theo thought of you all the time anyway, with little being prioritized over you. The confusing nature of the feelings came from the fact that his thoughts of you were so often varied. 

One minute, he’d be thinking of your laugh—the way you tilted your head back, eyes clenched, with mouth wide, smile glistening. Next, he’d be imagining you naked above him, begging for him to give you more.

It’d been this way forever. He wanted you in more ways than one, but just one of those ways would ruin every other. 

If Theo admitted that he wanted to be the last face you saw every night and the first you saw every morning, and you rejected him, he’d never heal from it. He needed you too much in any way to let something get in the way of that. 

So he’d held back for years and years, until, apparently, he’d started to become a little too obvious. At least, enough so that Mattheo and Enzo had noticed. 

Now, with the support—and borderline bullying—from them, he was feeling confident. Like he could actually ask you to be his.

Still, he hesitated.

He made his way through the castle, counting the sconces on the wall and running through example admissions he could give you. If he were to tell you how he felt, he couldn’t fuck it up. 

You deserved the best of him, if you even deserved him at all. Theo wasn’t much compared to you, but everything he felt for you was genuine and that wasn’t something that was so easy to explain to Mattheo and Enzo, assholes as they were.

He stopped before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, mumbled the password, and made his way through, hardly straying from his imaginary conversations.

Distractedly, he headed upstairs and prepared himself a shower. 

Mattheo said he thought the best while laying in bed, but Theo wondered if the shower might be a better alternative for him. He worried that he might not ever get to sleep if he let all of his thoughts pool into one part of his day. 

So, he shed his clothes, pulled the water as hot as it would go and stepped beneath the boiling rain. 

Between the steam and the warmth, he could’ve fallen asleep, but the thoughts of telling you how he felt kept him wired enough to focus. 

There were a thousand possibilities swirling through his head, trying to guide him in the right direction. 

He weighed a couple options back and forth, trying to let imagined scenarios play out with each, but no matter what he said or did, it always ended with him embarrassing himself, you hating him, or him accidentally setting something on fire. Never mind that last option—there was a brief consideration of fireworks. 

He let the water run across his shoulders and slip down his chest. He applied a bit of hair oils to his hands, letting the personal concoction he’d whipped up settle in his palm. He’d always had pretty dry hair but it tended to get a bit oily during this time of year, leading him to switch over to a different product—or, rather, a combination of products.

He lathered the oils in his hair and closed his eyes.

The massage his fingers applied to his head was just relaxing enough to keep his mind occupied for a second. He didn’t stop thinking of you—he never did—but he was allowed a few moments’ peace. He accepted the nurturing sensation, attempting to ignore his imagination trying to replace his hands with yours.

Then, suddenly, he got it! He knew exactly how to tell you how he felt. 

He quickly rinsed all of the remaining bubbles from his hair and scrubbed the rest of his body, before shutting the water off and whispering a small spell. In an instant, the wetness coating his body evaporated into thin air, and he was bone-dry. 

He slipped his pajamas on, gathered his day clothes, and made his way back to the dorm. 

If he was going to do this, he wanted to make sure he did it properly. He had about a thousand ideas, a notebook, quill, and ten hours to kill. Needless to say, he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight.

- - -

You set yourself down at the end of the Slytherin table and poured a bit of coffee into your mug.  

With the night you had just before, you could use a bit of caffeine. Nothing you had expected to happen yesterday did, and everything you hadn’t expected to happen had. In ten fold. 

Between the three tests, the spilled pumpkin juice all over your bottoms, the near-fight between your best friend, Draco, and some Gryffindor, you had had enough by the end of all of it. 

You had wanted to sleep after all of the activity. But, instead, you had Cormac McLaggen. 

And you had gotten all of him. From his chestnut curls to his strong arms to his hips moving against yours. Thank Merlin he was a Quidditch player with immense stamina, else the two of you never would have lasted past the third or fourth rounds. 

A smirk appeared across your face at the thought of him and everything he had given you last night. Even with how insufferable he was as soon as he decided to talk, his mouth seemed proficient in other things. 

You sipped your coffee as students began to file in, lazily scuffing their feet across the floor, urgent to get a muffin. 

Despite your urge to busy your mind with schoolwork and your plans for the day, it kept falling back to that stupid Gryffindor boy.

His fingers weren’t the most skilled, nor was the rest of his body, but he followed instructions like he was born to do so. 

But even though he had done so well for you last night, and even though he’d seemed so eager to please, your mind couldn’t help but stray when you were with him last night. It couldn’t help but stray even now. Stray to a different boy.

Theodore Nott. The most gorgeous boy you’d ever laid your eyes on. Draco had introduced you to him during your first year; he’d said their fathers knew each other. Needless to say, you’d knew you wanted to be with him from the moment you saw him.

Even when you had no others, Theodore Nott was your goal. 

Seconds into thinking about Theo, and you were already thinking about his body, and replacing Cormac’s touch with his. Just like you had last night.

Perhaps it was unfair to Cormac, but you both knew you hadn’t hooked up for ‘love’—more like mutual attraction and convenience. 

You were thinking about the way Cormac had gasped above you and the way his mouth had felt on you, then suddenly it was Theo’s mouth where his had been, and Theo’s hands holding yours to the bed. 

It was enough to make you readjust in your seat just a bit. Even your fantasies of Theo made you red in the face. How pathetic. 

But, Merlin, if it wasn’t so nice to picture…his hands running down—

“Mind if I sit here?”

You glanced up suddenly, using every bit of will power in your body not to choke and spew coffee everywhere. 

If it wasn’t Theodore fucking Nott standing right before your eyes, you might have mistook him for an angel. Your eyes widened instinctually.

“E-er, yeah, Theo…take a seat,” you said with a forced smile. 

You watched him like a hawk as he seemed to effortlessly slide against the table, taking his seat before the hundreds of breakfast items lined along the oaken surface. 

If you didn’t know any better, you figured that he knew you were staring at him over your coffee mug, but he was ignoring it. He seemed to be considering his meal options, rather than focusing on you.

“So, how are you?” you asked, swallowing thickly. He glanced up as if he’d forgotten you were there. 

“Oh, good…yeah, pretty good. How are you?” 

You felt crazy. There was no way he’d just shown up like this while you’d been imagining him in the dirtiest scenarios—it couldn’t just be a coincidence. Maybe he was a Legilimens. Or one of his friends was. Shit, wasn’t Mattheo Riddle one? 

You smiled nervously. “Uh, yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good.” He selected a mug and poured some tea.

“Yeah…” You took a sip of your coffee.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you about—” 

A kiss was pressed to the outer point of your jawline. Slightly rough, cracked lips with a hint of stubble across the chin. Warm breath. The scent of leather polish and something earthy. Shit.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he said against your ear, sending chills down your arms. Perhaps you had been wrong. Perhaps Cormac had been interested in more of a relationship with you, past the purely physical aspect. 

You swore Theo’s eyes widened and his face fell. He seemed almost shocked or disappointed. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“Hey,” you whispered back, a bit of a smile spreading across your lips at the familiar smell. Despite your lack of real feelings for him, Cormac did make you pretty happy, at least on a surface level. 

“I’m gonna grab something to eat then head back to bed if you want to join me…,” he let his voice trail off in a joking tone as he slipped away. He headed towards the Gryffindor table, never looking back. You watched him as he walked for a few moments then turned back to Theo.

“So, McLaggen, huh?” he asked. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes were surveying your face. He seemed to be searching for something.

“Oh, we—er, I mean, not really,” you chuckled.

“What does that mean?” He didn’t laugh in return.

“We kind of just—”

“Whatever…it’s none of my business.” He cut you off. He took one large sip from his mug, draining its contents before turning to go. You hopped to your feet.

“Theo, I—” you started to call after him, but he was already gone. Fuck, was he mad?

You sat back down and wrapped your fingers back around your cup. Something in you deflated like it had been poked with a needle—maybe it was your heart…or your stomach. You weren’t sure.

Cormac fluttered about the Gryffindor table, talking here and there, and grabbing bits of food. Your eyes followed him, watching his every movement. 

You could see the muscles rippling beneath his pajama tee shirt—a gray cotton number that fit him in all the right places; could see the honey curls that curled over his eyes; could see the way his eyes flicked over to you every so often. Damn, the way he looked at you was so good…

But Theo was something else entirely. If Cormac was fire, Theo was electricity. 

Theo replaced everything—Cormac’s eyes, lips, fingers. It was as if every memory was being replaced by him and there was nothing you could do to control it. 

Then, before you could blink, and realize what was happening, Theo was walking back through the door. And also making a bee line for Cormac. Shit. 

You stood slowly, waiting to see if you should intervene—or to see if you were just imagining the whole Theo-interested-in-you situation. 

A few moments passed where Theo said one thing, Cormac said another, Theo pointed at you, Cormac said another thing and then laughed. Whatever he said earned a few chuckles from his friends sitting around him. 

There was a beat. 

Then Theo punched Cormac as hard as he could. 

You gasped and rose to run toward the group that had now begun to swarm around Theo. It seemed that whoever had been laughing with Cormac obviously supported him enough to try and attack Theo, because once you’d gotten over there, they’d already laid a couple punches to Theo. 

Never mind he was up against three other guys, he was holding his own. Every time they successfully landed a punch, Theo would fire back with one of his own. And he’d fire back hard. 

“Stop!” you shouted, attempting to force yourself between them. Without looking, Theo spared an arm for a moment long enough that he could keep you pushed back behind him. 

“No, Theo! Cormac! That’s enough!” You struggled against Theo. 

Finally, you’d wrestled enough that you slipped free from Theo’s guard and slipped past them. You pushed him back as hard as you could, and turned to face the other boys as quickly as you could so they wouldn’t force themselves past you. 

“All of you stop it right now!” You shouted, panting heavily from the effort it took to push Theo away. “You come with me.”

You pulled Theo behind you by his hand and exited through the looming doors of the Great Hall, leaving Cormac and his goons in shock. In their defense, a lot had happened in about five minutes.

Once through the doors, you Disapparated quickly, never letting go of Theo’s hand. You landed in your dormitory. 

A quick survey of the room and a mumbled locking spell later, the two of you were alone and Theo was bleeding. 

You conjured a bit of gauze and ointment from somewhere in the hospital wing, promising you’d return it later.

Sitting Theo down gently on the edge of your bed, you began to gently apply a bit of the soaked gauze to the cut on his cheek and the blood seeping from his nose. He hissed ever so slightly at the stinging, but kept his eyes on you.

“Why did you hit him?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. His eyes moved away from you.

A few moments of silence passed. The minute you thought he might never say something, he spoke up.

“McLaggen’s not a good guy.”

You scoffed. “Really? That’s all you have to say? You hit Cormac because he’s ‘not a good guy?’ There’s billions of people who aren’t good people that I don’t go around decking every time I see them! Why did you really hit him, Theo?”

You stared him down, demanding an answer with every glance he cast your way. 

“Because of what he said about you.” 

You were taken aback. “W-what did he say?”

***

Theo walked out of the Great Hall, trying his best to swallow the rage that was building up in his throat. Of course you were with someone. You were absolutely perfect. It was false hope for him to have thought he’d ever had a chance with you. He threw his plans from his mind. 

As he stormed through the stone halls, flashes of the way McLaggen had come up right behind you and touched you like he owned you, pissed him off so badly he was shaking. 

The way his lips had touched your cheek, the way you’d smiled so softly, the way you’d looked at him afterwards. It was clear you pitied him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with you. It wasn’t your fault. If you wanted McLaggen, that was fine. He just needed…he just needed to make sure you were being treated right. 

On a whim, he turned back around before he could stop himself, and marched back into the Great Hall. 

If Theo couldn’t have you, he at least needed to ensure that whoever did have you was treating you right. You deserved it more than anyone did.

He spotted McLaggen leaned around a couple other guys, chattering and laughing. Honestly, just the sight of the jock pissed him off. 

“Hey! McLaggen!” The dirty blonde boy glanced up, eyebrows quickly shifting from shocked to on his guard. 

“Nott.” He nodded his head toward Theo. The boys gathered around him seemed to look up too, always prepared for some kind of conflict.

If they hadn’t known any better, Theo would have guessed they assumed this was a Quidditch issue. But it wasn’t. 

“Can I talk to you alone?” Theo asked.

“What for? If this is about the Quidditch pitch this weekend, McGonagall already said—” McLaggen started.

“It’s not about that,” Theo interrupted him. He was right, Cormac did think this was a Quidditch issue. Why else would Theo want to interact with him?

“Oh, wait…this is about them, isn’t it?” McLaggen laughed, nodding his head in your direction. Theo’s jaw twitched at the thought of him talking about you.

“I just wanted to say that they’re really important to me, and I want you to take care of them.”

“What—are you their dad?” McLaggen snorted.

“No, man. But they’re a very close friend of mine and I want to ensure that you’re going to be good to them.” Theo pointed in your direction without thinking about it. 

“Who are we talking about again?”

Theo’s jaw clenched at his response.

“Man, come on. I’m not asking for a lot. I care about my friend.”

“Are you sure they’re just your friend? I could’ve sworn they screamed your name last night.” 

The blood drained from Theo’s face as he heard McLaggen’s words. He was stunned for a moment.

“What did you say?” Theo muttered, barely able to form words.

“I said, ‘when I was fucking them last night, I think they said your name.’ It didn’t really matter anyways, because they were just a distraction for me. They’re not the prettiest thing, but good enough when they’re on their knees—”

Theo couldn’t handle it anymore. Without a second thought or a blink, Theo swung his fist at Cormac’s jaw as hard as he could. He didn’t know who this fucker thought he was, but he wasn’t going to talk about you like that. 

Somewhere distantly, he thought he heard you shout his name, but he’d started something he couldn’t just walk away from. 

***

“That’s what he said about you… I couldn’t just let him get away with that. Someone had to show him some consequences.” 

From the beginning, you had insisted that whatever was happening between you and Cormac was purely situational, but somehow his words still hurt. 

You were flashing between angry and sad and hurt and mortified—you didn’t know what to feel. Had you really screamed Theo’s name last night? The fact that you genuinely couldn’t say whether you did or not, made you scared. 

What did Theo think? Was he disgusted?

“Theo, I think the asshole was just trying to ramp you up,” you chuckled nervously. “I didn’t…s-scream your name last night.” The last words were little more than a whisper. You averted your eyes, finding the stone floor quite interesting all of a sudden. You couldn’t believe you were having to say that.

“Can I ask you one thing?” Theo breathed. He seemed much closer to you now, then he had been before. His breaths mingled with yours slowly…melodically…

Your eyes flickered between him and the floor, only viewing him through split seconds where his darkened skin flashed against the sunlight outside. Fuck, he was beautiful. 

How many times had you imagined tracing that olive skin? 

“Er, yes, of course,” you said distantly. “You can ask me anything, Theo.”

“Have…you ever…” 

His words came out thickened and slow, as if they were honey dripping from his lips. They poured wetly through his teeth, hot and searing. You could feel them cover your body, sliding delicately over your skin and covering your mind. The syllables that left his lips had your head spinning. You felt as if you might be sick.

“...had any feelings…”

His lips shuddered slightly between words, his eyes were looking directly into yours, the contact never wavering. You had plucked up the courage to stare up into those oceanic features, but just enough to get the gist of what he was asking. You couldn’t bear to look at him as you debated your answer.

“...for me…?”

Fuck.

Your eyelids fluttered closed. A deep sigh pushed from your nostrils as your lips pinched together. If you had known that sleeping with Cormac McClaggen would somehow set into motion the timeline that would out your long-lived crush on Theodore Nott, you’d never have said yes to the bastard. Besides, it wasn’t as if you weren���t thinking of Theo the whole time—so much so that you apparently had “screamed his name.” Merlin, this was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you. 

“Theo, uh… I don’t know if this is a good—” you started.

“Please,” he shuddered, his gentle hands pressing softly to either cheek. He tilted your head upwards to force more eye contact. The physical touch had you reeling. You had never been so close to him before, except for in your mind. “If you have, I need to know. I will not force anything from you, but I need to know.”

Your eyes flickered back and forth nervously as you summoned any strength that was left floating around in your fleeting esteem. You wanted so badly to tell him. Tell him about all those dinners you’d left early because your mind was so clouded with thoughts of him, about all of the classes you’d been called on to answer a question you weren’t even aware was being asked because you were too busy sketching him in your books, about all of the nights your fingers had slipped beneath your silk covers to pleasure yourself from a mere thought of him. 

A glimpse of him in your mind’s eye had been more than enough for years and years, but now—with your head cradled beneath his strong hands—you feared it’d never be enough again.

“Yes,” you choked out. The word came out small and harmless, as if you’d been holding your breath for too long before letting it out. 

And before you were able to wrench your face from his grasp, he’d leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. 

A muffled yelp of surprise slipped out between the two of you, but he swallowed the noise with a deep sigh. Despite never imagining this was how your confession of love would go, you couldn’t help but appreciate that it was happening now. 

Everything in you urged you to pull away and demand he leave for assuming you wanted to be kissed. But the child harboring a deep love for the boy they’d spotted on the train all those years ago pushed you to curl your fingers into the soft, brown strands atop his head.

A slight moan, almost in that of relief, was pressed into your mouth. His hands released your face and wrapped around your waist, clutching tightly to your waistband. He pulled you closer to him, his chest bumping yours. 

He wanted you, he wanted you, he wanted you, and he’d fucking gotten you. He reminded himself to punch Enzo and Mattheo in the gut when he got away from you. That was, if he ever pulled away from you. The feel of your lips on his was something out of a dream—one that his wildly imaginative mind could not have even mustered up. 

And finally, after years of debating, a shitty one-night stand, and thousands of shower pep-talks, Theo had finally worked up the nerve to taste your lips. And you had finally worked up the nerve to swallow your pride and confess your love to Theo, rather than projecting it through other vectors. 

And though the two of you would eventually pull apart, giggle quietly to one another, and announce your newfound infatuation for each other to all of your friends the following day, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Everything had fallen into place except for one thing. 

Theo, as you would soon come to learn, always knew when something was wrong—oftentimes even when you didn’t realize it yourself. He would come to prove this many times over the following years of your relationship, but none better than when he had managed to learn a spell just for you. 

A spell that completely evaporated all of Cormac McClaggen’s clothes from his dormitory—and his body—whilst in the middle of Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

“That’ll show the fucker,” Theo had whispered into your ear amongst the loud bickering and laughing. 

- - -

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[dervampireprince]

[dni minors, dni blogs that have no 18+ age listed in their bio] body worshipping astarion /// gender-neutral reader/tav

telling him that his pleasure gives you pleasure, that you enjoy making him feel good, that he doesn't ever have to do anything in return. and that's hard for him to believe, of course. but you can prove it.

you can have him laid back on the bed, stripped bare, as you kiss across his face, making him laugh if you kiss him on the tip of his nose,

"it is rather cute of you darling that you want to spoil me, but"

no buts. you tell him this is what he deserves. he deserves to be spoiled, to be held and treated as though he's something precious. because he is.

you're careful as you kiss down his neck, not knowing if the bite scar on his neck is too painful of a reminder, so you avoid it, sliding down his chest, thumbs pushing against his nipples, taking one in your mouth as he sighs, hardening against you,

"as nice as this is, there are rather more sensitive areas you could be attending too,"

you swat him gently on the thigh and tell him to be patient, though you know he isn't. that you're not trying to tease him, you're savouring him,

he'll get what he wants though, as you slink down and ask him to spread his legs, and when he slowly does you struggle to read his face, is he apprehensive? surely he can't be nervous...?

you kiss his inner thighs, daring to nibble, and when he gasps and moans you bite harder, leaving marks as you edge closer to his cock, already starting to leak, begging for attention, sliding you fingers down until they circle around the base, you look up at him as you take his cock into your mouth.

he's loud as you slide yourself up and down, he always is. he knows his voice is attractive, he knows it spurs you on, his noises, his praise,

"yes, darling, that's it, fuck, such a talented little mouth, so good for me,"

but this isn't about you, it's about him, and you want him rendered speechless, unable to use any honeyed words as he falls apart, and you'll be here holding onto him, making sure he doesn't fall too far, making sure he's put back together in the end.

he almost yelps, embarrassed at the undignified sound, as you slide your hands under his arse and pull him up, clawing at his skin, letting his cock hit the back of your throat, breathing through your nose as you gag, trying to look up at him, daring for him to see how much you'd do for him,

you pull your mouth off his cock to watch him squirm, his hips twitch, your blow cool air onto him and he whines, he whines and he seems embarrassed of it and he's beautiful,

you tell him that, and he knows, but there isn't the usual witty and vain retort, he whines again, panting, you tilt your head and smile and ask him if he wants to cum,

"of course i want to-"

he cuts himself of as you frown and start to pull your hands away. he knows what you want him to say.

"alright, i..." he catches his breath. "please."

please what?

he wants to scowl, but he wants your touch more, "please, i want to come, please."

he's back to moaning the second your mouth slides back down on his cock, whining again when you pull off, only to replace your mouth with your hand, sliding up and down his slick cock, as your mouth moves to his balls, fingers slipping against his arse, brushing between them accidentally, you think you aught to move them but the sound he makes, oh the sounds he makes,

barely thinking, just driven by the urge to have him come undone, you slip your hand under his leg and pull it up over your shoulder, gripping his thigh, mouth back on his cock as your other hand brushes against his hole again and you watch him shiver and claw at the bedding and you're emboldened and you rub your finger against his hole, never pressing inside, in time with how your head bobs up and down,

his words are gone now, he moans and gasps and you want him to let himself go, to thrust his hips up into your mouth, to relax into the bed, slide one of his hands onto your head if that's his urge, this is for him,

he tries to speak, "love, i-" and then he throws his head back, one of his hands flying to his face, you can't imagine him wanting to hide himself or his voice but then again has he ever let himself he this exposed before during sex?

you swallow around him as he comes, mouth still on him as he's oversensitive and twitching until you hear him sob,

and then you're letting his leg down gently off your shoulder, pulling yourself up to look at him, cupping his cheeks in your hands, him nodding to say he's alright, and then you're back to planting kisses over his face, telling him that he's safe, that he's beautiful, that you're honoured he trusts you with himself, stroking his hair as he comes down, falling onto your side and him clinging to you, his head against your chest as you kiss along his hair line,

"thank you," he breathes

of course

"you... well. i clearly underestimated you, again. i... i'm not sure i've ever come like that before. but before you sex was never much about my own pleasure. but that was... nice."

he coughs, composes himself,

"and well, if you ever wanted to do it again, or let me return the favour, though yes before you interrupt i understand you are trying to teach me that i don't have to repay you for anything with sex, but then i would also remind that i genuinely like having sex with you, having you at my mercy, moaning for me..."

you huff,

"yes. right. that is to say, i could be persuaded to let you have your wicked way with me again. it wasn't... unpleasant. i might have feared it could be, that being at someone else's mercy could bring about... memories or feelings. but it didn't. because it's with you. you make me feel... safe. i want to cherish that."

you kiss him again. and again. until you tell him you're not supposed to be waking yourselves up, and he pouts, but relents,

you'll clean yourselves up in a moment, for now, you enjoy him allowing himself to rest in your arms

[gravesdept]

CONTENT: task f 141 + graves + makarov headcannons — gn! reader >> slight angst. nsfw kinda. main character death mentioned. gun kink. knife kink. marking kink. blood mentioned. internalized homophobia. wc: around 1000+

an ;; LMAO CAN YOU TELL WHO HALF THOSE TAGS ARE FOR

“HOW DO THEY LOVE? // HOW POSSESSIVE ARE THEY? // DO THEY SHARE?„

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY ✮

hes possessive alright. simon most likey has never had or felt real feelings for another person other than his familiarity with 141 and that wouldn’t attempt to change unless he’d met someone who is able to sneak into the gigantic walls he put up for himself. that being said if you were to step into his life by chance and also happen to fit his personality enough for his walls to shift.. lets just say you’d be on his hook for life. simon takes pride in knowing he has finally has someone to go home to (like a real military man he thinks), he takes pride in knowing he can count on someone, he takes care of the ones he “loves”. you caring for him back is just bonus points in his fucked up book. sum of it ghost is pretty possessive, although hes not the one to kill or be extreme with his measures for you ( he will break a bone or two ), he will always make sure to put himself first and while that’s selfish hes been through more than enough to know that love never sticks and his trauma filled heart wont let him stay too long—but if he thinks that you are a need in his life,, then you are his to keep. hell asking if ghost shares could get you killed. while ghost is not the one to kill for you—he will kill for himself. you are now a necessity in ghosts life; in simons life. you’re in his routine and he doesn’t make room in his routine for just anybody, simon sees you as a part of his own as he now needs you for certain tasks. killing for himself is way easier and will happen if anyone even suggests sharing you to him.

CAPTAIN. JOHN PRICE

john is one hell of a lover, thats for sure. he takes his love life seriously; wants to date to marry type serious. its sure by his age he’s already been divorced or has been married and thats not something he takes lightly. hes all for one night stands but if your going to get him all cheesed up just expect to take him out to dinner the next day. if the “date” goes well and you both start with something thats sort of a talking stage, its clear he wants something as he doesn’t let his guard down for just anybody. like simon he puts his work first, task force 141 coming before his own soul. hes a workaholic of course and would need someone who he could talk to about his paperwork; a person he could complain to for hours about how soap works on his nerves. if you meet his standards you might as well be his even if you dont know it; he’s just as possessive as it gets. you’re civilian? hes treating you like one of his soldiers because he’s possessive over all of his men, price will kill for you knowing the danger he attracts. you’re military? hes backing you up if you need the extra assistance and will not hesitate to drop a body for you. cause thats how he loves; its all he knows. sharing is a hard no for price, he finds it awkward to share with anyone and if you want someone else.. lets just say he’d rather leave you than see you be with another person while with him, again he will not share under no circumstance. he needs you and you only and if you cant except that then “best get to goin’. ” in his words.

JOHNNY “SOAP” MACTAVISH

soap doesnt love as hard as john or have walls as high as ghost, he has his own sense of self coordination. soap wants someone whose rough enough but can handle his jokes. someone who can love him for who he his, for all his scars, for his wellbeing. I imagine johnny growing up being chastised for his sexuality. meeting you would solidify something in him as you would accept him and he would never forget that heavenly trait of yours. hes fallen for you already and theres not much more to do before he wants a ring from you. I know I said he doesnt love as hard as john but soap can come to love just as hard and willingly as he wants to; all he needs is a push. soaps clingy nature is active once hes feeling comfortable around you, wants to be by you most of the time especially including when he has to do stacks of deskwork. soap is one of the only ones who is willing to share, thinks its your choice compared to his. no matter what you do hes by your side; though, killing for you is his last resort. with johnny killing will not always be his first option especially since being discharged from the military he feels as though is a disgrace, he would only kill immediately if you were part of the military too and were harmed in combat. hes protective but not as possessive as the others.

KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK

kyle has relationship problems, falls for the wrong types of people. lets his guard down a bit too much than the others. makes him different in his heart; but too soft for the bunch. he crushes on people who give him even the tiniest bit of affection, must be because hes only dated around a few times. so guess its not absurd for the situation that was between you two. It was weird for a bit; weird cant even be the word. you and kyle were bestfriends and kyle had liked you. it was awkward to say the least but he confessed and for the first time in a while someone had said yes to his confession. it already sparked so many feelings that you could probably have had him right there. while gaz has relationship problems its safe to say hes just as possessive as the others, once hes got a hold of you its a while before he lets go. hes clingy like soap and loves hard like price. he’s different because he will kill for you if needed, whether you be civilian or military personnel no matter what’s happening kyle loves too much to let the person he cares about go. he shares because, again, its your choice and hes into whatever your into. though his tolerance is low; hes only sharing because its what you want. he would never willingly share if you didn’t want to and would never ask you if you wanted relations with another person.

COM. PHILLIP GRAVES

phillip is a one night stand typa guy, only there to fuck and leave. wouldn’t want a serious relationship and surely wouldn’t want someone to love. so he slept around ,, his job as commander was stressful, its no doubt he needed a stress reliever every minute he could get; one night stands provided that and he was fine with it, fine with the circumstances. ironically that is until he met you.. you were “different” he said. you pushed his buttons in all the right ways; made him want more of you. made him feel weird inside. said he couldn’t feel love onetime and you almost made him regret it. phillip loves rough though its soft around the edges.. he wants that same type of love reciprocated right back to him, its alright if you cant be soft to him he’ll still take it like the goodboy he is. wants someone who will treat him horribly but at the end of the day love him harder than ever, not ideal but its what he wants, and he gets what he wants. never been one to quit either, will continue to try and get you even if you said no to his advances the first time. safe to say he wont be sharing either, he has major problems with sharing when it comes to complete strangers. might share you with his shadows though; other times he wants you all to himself because he knows hes all you need. all your body needs atleast. your opinion is honestly irrelevant to him too. (he will drop anyone dead within a 5 feet radius of you.)

COM. VLADIMIR MAKAROV

vladimir, the one who is the toughest to break and even tougher to love. this is because unless you have a sign on your forehead that says “hey pick me”, makarov is not batting an eye for a civilian. under no circumstances will he let his emotions with a mere under role come in hand with his work. so in every scenario your in some type of military work or even under him in command, cause then he might peak an eyelash towards your files and find out who you are. if prior to meeting eachother you idolize his work—you’ve already climbed towers that would take years to reach. makarov wants someone whose loyal, someone whose willing to put him first (he wants a dog whose willing to take their life for him). and while many of his soldiers already happen to do that everyday for him, you stick out like a sore thumb so bad that it just so happens to confuse him. he questions whats so damn interesting about you and even comes to reason that its him being weak minded and ill thoughted. a leader does not think such thoughts about someone of your sexuality; sure as hell not a person whose so proud of it. later he comes to realize his thoughts were wrong. after a hookup between the two of you during a stressful day, he sees more of whats to come. of course still he doesn’t support but he can get behind it just for you. makarov is VERY possessive, he would kill cities for you; countries even. would carve his name on your body so that everyone knows your his, make you get a tattoo atleast. (gets you guns with his name engraved into them, loves when you try to use them against him during sex; he has a major gun kink / knife kink and loves inflicting pain on you to the point where you’re bleeding.) he for sure does not share. hes one of the ones thats obsessive over what you do enough to keep you locked up too, once your marked as his you stay his. he does not take well to his property being used by others and does not condone what you feel for that matter. if you disagree or betray his decisions,, no matter how much hes come to accept you, he can and will not hesitate to shoot you dead along with anyone whose ever tried to come in contact with you. he does not share.

bonus: WHOSE IN WHAT POSITION? (sub/dom) ✮

simon is a dom for sure while still not feeling that comfortable submitting, price also is a dom but not because he’s uncomfortable he just likes having a bit of power, johnny is a sub(literally no explanation), kyle is a switch sub/dom depending on what mood hes feeling, graves is a sub leaning dom as he doesn’t like to let you do everything by yourself, makarov is the most power in a dom ive ever seen because he can’t stand having someone being superior to him.

an :: maybeeew writing makarov smut fic in a few days maybeee 🙂‍↕️

@ property of gravesdept on tumblr

[itsabea]

March x Reader | Walking You Home

Description: After the events of the Shooting Star Festival, March walks you home while you try your best to stay awake and coherent. But turns out March's a bit too impatient, and you've become much too sleepy.

Warnings: i started this just after the shooting star festival update and finished it today(aka this might be choppy),

Having watched the stars with March was like a dream come true.. And even the fact that he said yes to your invitation was a miracle in and of itself!

Still, despite March having accused you of messing with him, the night ended up being a memory that you hope you'll never forget. The stars were gorgeous, his face was picturesque as the lights of the stars flew past, and when you had turned to look back at the meteor shower, you caught March staring back at you from the corner of his vision.

But of course, the night couldn't last forever, and turns out, neither could your consciousness. After about your fifth or sixth yawn, March rolled his eyes and told you that he'd be walking you back to your farm. And so here you were, sleepy eyed with your body reacting exceedingly slowly as you tried not to fall off the tree trunk and into the river on the path to the Summit.

Of course, March didn't help much, mostly offering his judgmental stare and a few off handed comments. "Are your legs asleep or something?" He asked, his tone not sounding nearly as mocking and offensive as it usually was.

"Mm.... Sorry, I- Didn't think I'd be this tired.." You said back, stepping onto the grass before letting out a breath of relieve and triumph for still being upright, and most importantly, not in the river.

Continuing on for another step, you stopped to turn back to see where March was, only to find him directly behind you. And in that moment your sleepy state really showed. It took you a good few seconds to react and step aside so that March could also get off the large tree trunk and join you on the other side of the river.

Now following behind March, who was already a third of the way down the stairs, you went down the first step. Placing your foot on the stone made a low echo sound out from the contact it made with your shoes. A very audible sigh left March as you frowned tiredly and looked down at him, watching as he started making his way up the steps again and stopped two steps down from you.

There was a solid moment of silence, and your eyes had the time to slowly blink twice before watching March rather adamantly extend his hand out towards you.

"Like I said.. I won't here the end of it if you fall over and hurt yourself.. So just hurry up and take it..!" March clarified, looking away from you as you smiled and silently accepted the offer by taking his hand. You knew full well that you wouldn't make it home without stumbling over something, which is also fairly likely to happen more than once.

Slowly but surely, March guided you down the stairs as you internally started thinking about how warm and inviting his hand is. While his callouses were rough, and his hand was slightly shaky, it felt so.. Gentle and careful while holding your own.

Neither of you spoke as you got to the end of the stairs, over the pillar-bridge of the lower part of the river, and towards the Museum. Every now and then your eyes would slowly close before you had to mentally pry them open, and each time March would slow down slightly and lightly squeeze your hand that was still linked with his.

After you both passed the massive rock that you'd frequently crack open to get a quick sapphire, March spoke up. "How tired are you?" He asked, not a single hint of mock or accusation in his tone.

It took a whole second for you to fully register his question, and another second to give your answer. "Super tired.... Gonna sleep in till ten on purpose in the morning.." You managed out just before a yawn escaped you as you tried, and failed to stifle it.

After a few more steps in silence, March suddenly stopped, hesitatingly letting go of your hand before crouching on the floor in front of you. March somehow managed to sense the confused frown you wore, as he clarified his actions soon after. "Hop on.. You're taking too long." He said, and although you weren't fully convinced, you awkwardly got onto his back anyway.

Neither of you spoke for a while afterwards, and it was admittedly even more of a challenge to stay awake while being hauled home by March. Carrying the weight of your body seemed like no trouble at all for March, and not only that, but you could also feel the loud thrum of his heart beat reaching you from his back. It started out slow and methodical, but the moment you relaxed further into him, it started racing, almost as if he was panicked.

You didn't say anything, or, at least you didn't intend to. But unfortunately for you, March sounded out in reply. "I can't turn my heart off..! Sigh.. We're almost there, don't fall asleep yet, got it?" He said, making you sigh out a groan at the fact you couldn't fall asleep anymore.

It really wasn't much longer until you both entered your farm. The scenery wasn't quite how you wanted it yet, but it was getting there. March hadn't so much as taken a glance, making a direct, yet casual beeline for your home. It wasn't a long walk, but it did turn out to be long enough for you to start dozing off.

By the time March was at your door and asking you if you had a key, you were fairly unresponsive. The only reply you gave was a few half hearted grumbles and a final huff before weakly trying to kick the door open. March sighed at your attempt of you trying to enter your house, but instead of biting, snapping, or being a pain, he somehow ended up being.. Kind. At least in his own way.

"No key?" He asked, prompting you to shake your head against his shoulder before he opened your door. It took March no time to locate your bed and carry you toward it, and the mattress and blankets looked so inviting to you that you reached out for them so as to flop on your bed.

In the end, you not only landed on your beloved bed, but also took March down with you. And before you could even think about or debate the consequences of your actions, you went straight to sleep.

March, for one, didn't take to being dragged down with you and onto your bed too kindly, but before he could shout out a frustrated, and admittedly flustered response, you had started snoring. It wasn't loud or obnoxious, but it definitely sounded like you were exhausted. For March, it wasn't up to any kind of debate that you should rest, but he would've been lying to himself if he didn't admit that seeing you asleep was a.. Slight comfort.

But nevertheless, March took his leave, walking back to town and up into the Blacksmiths before heading to bed himself. All while not being able to wipe a fond, satisfied grin off his face, let alone knowing it was there. And the worst part? March wasn't the slightest bit aware that Olric had caught sight of him smiling as he headed to his room.

[pandagyaru]

What we use to be..

Pairing: Jasper x Implied Nonbinary/Male reader (Not really specified but like its a major plot point here that the reader isn't a woman)

Rating: None

Type: Angst to fluff

"Get away from me. I never wanna see you again" The words. His tone. The hatred in his eyes. It still haunts you to your core, even tho it was centuries ago. You'll never forget the way he made you feel that night. You pleaded with him, asked him to give you a reason to his sudden coldness; but he didn't answer. All he did was slam the door in your face and cast you aside, like some poor rabbit you drained the blood of. Now centuries later, you move to a new area. Pretending to be a high school student. You just needed to leave your last home, throwing away everything that you kept to remember him by; all but one thing. A locket he gifted you with a picture of him in it. The picture is old and faded now, yellowed and on the verge of withering away but you keep it dearly, can't bring yourself to part with it. It clings to your neck like a lifeline, you sometimes fidget with it out of habit.

You sit in your classroom alone, the bell hasn't even rang yet but you stare out the window; watching as rain drops race each other to the window sill. Students start pouring into the class, taking their seats. You look over to see a girl with long brown hair sits next to you. She smiles at you and waves awkwardly.

"I'm bella" She says, laying her notebooks down on the desk. You smile at her and raise your hand to her. She takes it.

"Im (Y/N), I just moved here" You state. She chuckles a little and gives you a jokingly weird look.

"out of all places to move, you pick forks? this place is like the last place I'd wanna move" She says, tucking her hair behind her ear. You look away from her and sigh.

"I needed a fresh start, and I quite like the doom and gloom of this place" You half joke, turning to her and smiling wide. You don't know what it is about this girl, but you like her. The bell rings just as the teacher steps in the room, ending yours and Bella's playful chatter.

By the time Lunch rolls around, you're hanging by Bella and her friends. They seem to take a liking to you immediately. You like them also, they bring a nice aura around that you need. That is until, you feel eyes on you. You look around to see gold eyes staring at you. Bella looks over with you.

"Don't mind him, that's my boyfriend Edward" She explains, slowly waving at him. He waves back. but you're not really paying attention him. If you had a heart, it would've stopped again. There sitting next to Edward, was Jasper. He has a pretty brunette attached to his arm, he looks happy. You feel a pang in your chest at the thought, he's over there happy and you can't get over him. You grab a hold of the locket on your chest, rubbing the metal on it to calm yourself. You look away from him, missing the way that Edward gets his attention.

"Do you know them?" Edward asks him, pointing to you. Jasper looks over and thinks. You lift your head a bit to look at Jessica as she compliments your locket. Jasper's eyes snap to it, it looks so familiar to him; yet he can't place it. Then he sees it, the big J carved into it messily. His mouth falls open slightly and he stands up. His chair scrapes the floor slightly and it catches the attention of your whole table. You and Jasper make eye contact, he has no doubt that it's you. You still look the same as the day he lost you, to his own thoughts and insecurities. He walks over to you and grabs your arm, lifting you up and dragging you to an empty room. You try to break free, yelling at him to let go. He pins you to a desk and just stares at you. You push at his chest, God you're lucky you can't cry or you'd be sobbing right now. He grabs your chin and makes you look at him.

"What are you doing here?" He whispers to you. You blink at him and don't answer. He looks so pretty in this light, even when he's practically holding you hostage. He shakes you slightly "ANSWER ME" You flinch and look him in the eyes.

"Why'd you leave me?" You mutter. He breaks eye contact with you and lets go of your wrists. He paces the space in front of you.

"it was 1861, people weren't exactly open to what we were back then" He mutters, but you catch it. Of course you do.

"We could've worked it out! Clearly were both here now! We could've lasted Jasper!" You yell at him. He looks over at you, slamming you into the desk again.

"Did you suspect we'd both be here now? 142 years later?!" He shouts in your face. You look down.

"No, I never thought i'd see you again. I thought you'd only live on as a memory or a photo I kept" You whisper. He looks down at the locket, he grips it and opens it. There it is, a picture of a 17 year old him. He stares at it and then looks at you. He grabs your face, kissing you. You freeze and stare at him. Slowly your eyes close and wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. That is until you remember the girl that was attached to him, you push him away; wiping your mouth.

"What about the girl that was hanging onto your arm?!" You say, staring him down. He looks at you, thinking and then he starts laughing at you.

"That girl is one of my sisters, I swear nothing like that is going on. I haven't been able to stop thinking of you. ever since that day I lost you, due to my own selfishness" He says, grabbing you and just embracing you. You lean into him and hug him back.

"We'll be okay?" You ask. He looks at you.

"We'll be okay"

So uhm, how was that? I've got bad Twilight brain rn and I think its cause its fall. Yes, they are implied to be a fated pair, even before they were turned. also I'm sorry if its bad, I haven't written in forever.

LOVE YA

[pressureplus]

HEYA HELLO HI

first, i want to genuinely thank you guys for the account's existence and your hard work. reading through the posts is often the highlight of my bleak days, and im immensely grateful for you providing those moments of joy :]

SECOND UH ID LIKE TO ORDER A SPECIFIC KINDA HEADCANONS LIST IF NO ONE MINDS AND IT HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN ALREADY ALRIGHT YEAH

a nonbinary reader who is pretty similar to Seb's stubborn, independent and sassy persona but WOMP WOMP, they're suddenly head over heels for him. NEITHER WANTS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FEELINGS (aka "HE'S FUCKING MARRIED, IT'S NOT MUTUAL AND IM BUSY WITH NOT DYING, BUT I CANT GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD" & "I HAVE A WIFE AND THEY'RE JUST SOME EXPENDABLE BASTARD, GET OVER IT, SOLACE"). the distracting, unnecessary, painful pining. how do both cope and who's gonna break first? and most importantly, is either gonna throw their ego and rationality out the window to confess despite the fear of looking pathetic?

oooof i hope it's not too much and it's not breaking any rules. thank you in advance if you find it interesting enough for writing! :D

Awww, thanks so much! Although I should make it very clear the wife in question will remain vague and is NOT BASED ON ANYONE! Thanks for the request ❤️

♡Married! Sebastian Solace x NB! Similar! Reader Headcannons♡

Warnings: Sebastian is Married and Y/N is technically an Affair Partner

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had found you interesting from the moment you opened your mouth and got sassy with him, mostly because most people don't have the balls to do it

Despite finding this slightly irritating, he also found it refreshing, so he didn't immediately shoot you if only for his own entertainment

A terrible mistake he'd soon find out

He developed some definitely unhealthy feelings the first time one of your comebacks had an almost flirtatious undertone

It was an accident on your part, but it got him thinking

He was a married man fawning quietly over you, how awful is that?

I mean of course he’s flashed the wedding band, and of course he's mentioned his wife when others flirt with him, but that doesn't change his feelings

If you flirted with him, would he really reject you?

Could he?

He hadn't known the touch of his wife in years, the softness of her hands, the warmth of her kisses

After everything that's happened he couldn't even remember her name. He should be able to remember his wifes name right?

Does he really even care about her? Does he love her now? Did he love her then?

It comes with an odd sense of guilt he doesn't like to look at. Especially when you do something that makes his heart flutter.

You, on the other hand, probably didn't develop any real feelings until he actually saved your ass.

You'd been running for your life and he’d snatched you up and into the vents, tossing you easily into his shop and shutting it behind you

His gaze transfixed on said vent, a hand on his gun. Something about him choosing to save your life while also putting up with your attitude was a little attractive…

Okay, insanely attractive

Sure, Sebastian’s guilt for being attracted to you is bad, but so is yours

You’re attracted to a married man who has absolutely gushed about his wife in front of you before. Even if it was only because someone tried to get a little flirty, what does that matter?

Honestly the mutual attraction makes it hard for you both to focus

Everything about that man is intoxicating, his smile, his laugh, his attitude. Can you really be judged for this?

Neither of you can focus on anything but each other whenever you’re both in a room.

It’s led to Sebastian getting surprised whenever another person buys something off him because he had no idea anyone else was in here

Its also led to you freaking out whenever one of the other expendable touches your shoulder without you having realized anyone was standing behind you

You hide it well…at least you hope you do?

The longing glances and quiet staring on both sides is unbearable though

Especially considering you’re both making those dolly eyes at each other, batting lashes and daydreaming

It’s cute but it’s also incredibly wrong of you two and you’re painfully aware of it

No amount of sharing food and acting like it’s not a date will make it less of a date

He’s already long since decided that he’s going to offer you come with him so you both can leave together

And though neither of you will have the heart to confess for quite a while, I think he’d do it on your way out. Something about you almost dying when you both escape makes him desperate to tell you how he really feels

When that ‘I think I’m in love with you’ slips out while he’s bandaging your arm that’s been cut by glass, how can you refuse?

Especially when you’re in love with him too?

He’ll toss that ring into the ocean once you reach the surface, his wife never loved him like you did anyway

[veeluvss]

could you write something about JJ and her kid getting into an argument about them getting into a fight at school context isn't important just something like that

I loved this ask! Thank you. Here's about 2k words :) Non-binary reader (they/them pronouns)

You're not listening.

JJ pulled up outside your school in an angry fit. This was her third time being called in this month for your fighting and she was sick of it. Sick of your behaviour. They’d already suspended you for a few days after your first fight. Since you didn’t start the second one there was no disciplinary but your mum was made aware but now with the third one this month which had called her out of work - she was not happy. 

She marched through the glass doors, her blonde hair bounced behind her and she looked powerful in her suit. However, you didn’t see her as that. Sitting in the principal's waiting, your fear grew thicker. She was angry. Really angry. 

You watched the way she held herself, so assertive. You held the bloody gauze against your nose more and sniffed. The blood still hadn’t stopped but you didn’t even think she’d noticed.

She took a deep breath, not looking in your direction, before addressing the receptionist. “I’m here for Y/N - to see Principal Alex,” she said. Her voice was thin and sharp. “Of course, I’ll let him know you’re here. Thank you for coming so quickly,” the receptionist replied. “Just take a seat and he’ll call you in.” JJ nodded and turned to you. She looked you up and down. Your shirt was stained with crimson blood. Your hands were covered in blood too as no one had cleaned you up - you’d been sent straight to the principal. “Excuse me, can we have some wipes for their hands?” JJ asked the receptionist. The woman behind the desk quickly grabbed some wipes from her desk drawer and handed them over. 

In a huff, JJ came over and sat beside you. “Hand,” she ordered and held out her hand for yours. You swapped your hand holding the gauze against your nose and put the bloody one in hers. She quickly began wiping you down, making sure to get around your fingernails and in your knuckles. “Mum-” You tried to speak but she raised a finger. That meant it was not your turn to speak. “Save it,” she said, clearly upset with you. Once your hands were clean, she looked up at your face. “Let me see,” she said. Her voice was softer but still strict. You pulled the gauze away from your nose. It was bruised and very sore but you didn’t think it was broken. “They didn’t even give you ice? Goddamnit,” she whispered and stood back up to talk to the receptionist. You sat there, sullen. You hated that you’d made your mum this angry and that she wouldn’t listen to your side first. When your mum got angry, she went silent and that frustrated you. It was the easy JJ had always coped but you hated it. 

“I’m sorry but only the school nurse can administer that sort of medical care,” the receptionist said. “Well get the school nurse down here then. They need ice on their nose before it gets anymore swollen,” JJ replied, her anger rising. “I’m afraid we have to wait until after Principal Alex has spoken to them.” “No. Just because they broke a few school rules, doesn’t mean their needs are pushed aside. I want the nurse down here with a bag of ice for them before I even think about stepping into that office.” JJ’s tone was assertive and dominant. The receptionist didn’t hesitate to pick up the phone and call the nurse. 

After you had been given the ice for your nose, you and JJ were called into the principal's office. The person you fought walked out sheepishly with their father and took a seat. You hobbled behind your mum into the office and sat down in the large leather chair. Your mum shook the principal’s hand and sat in the chair adjacent to yours. 

“Now, Miss Jareau,” Principal Alex began, addressing your mum. “It’s unfortunate I have to see you here again but by my reports, Y/N started the fight this time and as we discussed previously, that means expulsion.” Shit. You gulped and looked at your mum. Her expression was serious and upset. Expulsion? This was never, ever discussed with you. “I understand however, I’d like to know what happened before we get to such extreme circumstances,” JJ said. “Y/N? I’ve heard the story from the other person's account - I’d like to hear yours.” The principal said, turning to you. You shuffled in your seat and removed the ice from your nose so you could be heard better. “I was sticking up for myself,” You began. Your mum had turned to you too and you felt sweat form on your brow. Her gaze was scary. “They were making fun of me again, Sir. Calling me a girl and throwing tampons at me,” you whispered. Your gender had always been something you struggled with and while a lot of people accepted you were non-binary – there were people at school who didn’t. “And why didn’t you walk away and report it like I told you to if it happens again?” Principal Alex asked. “Because they were surrounding me, just coming at me. All three of them. It was scary!” You said, growing angry again. No one understood the struggles you faced internally and externally. However, the principal shot you a stern look and you turned away. “Did you have to punch them?” your mum asked, breaking up the silence. You looked at her. Her blue eyes held a different kind of emotion you couldn’t quite figure out. “They were just coming closer to me, Mum. Calling me a freak and asking what was between my legs,” You explained. “But violence is never the answer,” The principal said. “Neither is targeting me for something I can’t control!” You spat. “Watch your tone, Y/N,” JJ said and you scoffed, turning away. “No one understands or listens or even thinks of me in these situations. I get expelled for retaliation - what do they get?” You addressed the question Alex and he sighed and shuffled the papers on his desk. “What do they get?” You asked again, raising your voice and standing up. “Suspension.” “Y/N sit down,” JJ said and grabbed your hand. You pushed her off but sat down in a huff. “Why do they get suspended for repeated bullying and I get expelled? How is that fair?” You asked, turning to your mum in hope she’d stick up for you. “This is the third fight you’ve been involved in this month and we’re only three weeks in, Y/N,” Principal Alex said. “Their alleged bullying hasn’t been reported and there’s no evidence of it.” “Oh so my broken nose isn’t evidence enough?”  You retorted, throwing up your arms. JJ shot you a ‘please calm down’ look but you ignored her. “You threw the first punch.” “They cornered me, it was my only way out!” You shouted, losing your patience. “Y/N, calm down, now.” JJ said. 

“No. No. No mum, I won't calm down because you’re sitting there, peaceful as anything whilst I’m trying to fight for my place in this school even though it’s a literal hell hole and I get bullied constantly. Although apparently none of my reports have been filed. I’m sick of all of this stupid bullshit!” You said and crossed your arms in a huff and kicked out your foot. “Curve your language right now. This behaviour is not acceptable, angry or not,” JJ said. “And you won’t even address the fact I’m being bullied. All you care about is your stupid FBI job and all those other hurt kids you save. You can’t even see that I’m struggling.” 

“That’s not true whatsoever, of course I care about you. I’m here - aren’t I?” “Because you have to be. You didn’t even ask if I was okay when you came in. You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself. When was the last time you checked in with me?” You shouted. JJ sighed and looked around the room, embarrassed. You scoffed. She knew you were right. “Can we save this conversation for some place else?” She asked. You felt a punch in your stomach from her words and turned away before the tears could form in your eyes. “Whatever, mum.” 

Silence fell upon the office and Principal Alex shuffled his papers again. “Y/N, Miss Jareau,” he sighed and addressed the two of you. “I’m going to cut the expulsion to a month’s suspension. In the meantime, I expect you to start therapy, Y/N - anger management or anything you seem fit. I think it will help you massively. The other girls involved in the incident are being dealt with accordingly as I understand their behaviour today was also unacceptable. How does that sound?” “I can come back in a month?” You asked, through gritted teeth, still overwhelmed and angry at your mum. “If you can prove you’ve started regular therapy appointments and keep up with your school work whilst you’re away, yes.” “Okay, that’s a good deal. Y/N?” Your mum said and turned to you. You only nodded and shrugged. “Okay, thank you, Sir,” JJ said and stood up to shake his hand. “Come on, you.” You followed her out the room with the ice back against your nose and out to the car. You climbed into the passenger seat and she made sure both belts were on before setting off home. No one spoke for the twenty minute drive. 

You pulled up on the driveway and noticed your dad’s car. You wanted your dad. He cared. But your mum's voice stopped you. “Wait,” She said. You stopped, with your back turned to her. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t care. I do care, Y/N. More than anyone or anything. I worry about you.” You didn’t know what to say so you let her continue. “I lie awake at night thinking about what goes on at school, about how you cope. You’re so strong and I just - I’m proud of you. I feel like I don’t need to check in when you’re always so smiley and happy and always on your best behaviour. When you act out, like you have been, I get worried I’m doing something wrong and it scares me.” “But you never tell me this,” You whispered. You sat back in your seat and turned to face her. She had tears in her eyes and you felt yours fill with tears too. “You’re growing up, it’s natural for a parent to be scared. You’re different from other kids at school, it worries me more. But you have your bubble. You don’t need your mum checking up on you everyday and making sure everything is okay - I thought it was. I didn’t see past the facade, I guess because it scared me.” “You’re an FBI agent who faces danger everyday but asking if I’m okay scares you?” You asked. She chuckled and sniffed, nodding. “It does. Because believe it or not, I care about you and Henry and Michael so much. You’re my babies and I’m sorry I failed you.” She looked up at you and quickly wiped a tear away. You felt your heart burst and leaned over, you wrapped your arms around her and she held you tight. “I’m sorry I shouted at you,” You whispered. “It’s okay, I deserved it. I wasn’t listening to you.” “I love you, no matter what,” You told her. “Oh you're too grown up,” she blubbered. “I love you so much my baby,” she replied.

[llostwriter]

Never Meant To Be | SVSSS Fanfic

- Nonbinary Reader

When you found out that you were reincarnated as a wandering orphan, forcing you to steal to survive. You lost count of the times that you would get beaten up upon getting caught by the villagers. The looks of disgust from the villagers upon seeing your raggy clothes and dirty face were imprinted on your small mind. Intelligence was nothing in this world; all that mattered was the ranking of an individual. There were times when you ended up starving on the streets or almost freezing to death.

It wasn't even surprising that, soon enough, the human traffickers found you. The original owner of the body was found by the human traffickers before you were even in the body. The human traffickers make weekly visits to the orphans, demanding that the orphans give them the taels that the orphans gathered from begging on the street. The ones that weren't able to give any received a beating. All the good spots in the areas were taken by the other orphans, while you were left with the crappiest area, which is mostly deserted.

The income was so low that you even decided to leave this village and beg elsewhere. The traffickers caught you again, and you received another beating. Only then did you learn that the orphans are only allowed to beg within the village.

Every week of the first few months, you have received a beating from the traffickers.

The orphans could hardly fend for themselves, so they didn't even bother sharing any of their stuff with you. Resorting to having to even fight them for some ointments. Yes, there would always be some additional bruises after the fight; however, you did get your ointment. You know that your life is miserable the moment you even have to fight a dog for a blanket. Even the white cat from the village council’s madam gives you the disdainful treatment. Hissing at you whenever you look at its pearly white fur.

You were envious of the white cat. It gets better treatment and is cleaner than the combination of you and the other orphans. You remembered watching out of the village council madam’s window, drooling at the lotus cake being fed to the white cat daily, who later licked its paw.

One day, in the village, there was a huge fire that ended up spreading out to the borders of the village. Everybody was evacuating, while you stood confused and helpless. Almost accepting the new path of death, ending this misery of yours. You would have never expected that a cultivator would rescue you. Your memories of his appearances were blurry. The only thing that you have left of him is the ripped-off piece of his light green robe.

Away from the human traffickers, your life was somewhat peaceful. You would be found stuffing your mouth with mysterious berries that you found in the forest. The stomachaches taught you which berries to pick and which berries not to pick. Cleansing the filth off yourself in the rivers.

You find yourself in a new village and hear from the villagers about Cang Qiong accepting new disciples. That would be a good chance to turn your life around.

There was something familiar about that name, but you were not able to find out exactly what it was.

——-

You watched the large crowds of hundreds of people. There were some other orphans, some kids dressed in rich silk robes, and some kids from the casual village household. The task was plain and simple; it was just digging holes. A few of the rich folks were complaining of dirtying their robes: “This is too filthy!”. “I can’t handle this any more!” “I’m telling my mommy and daddy about this!”. “This is so unfair!” “Why am I doing the work of a slave?!” so many complaints.

So they ended up ordering their servants to do it for them, resulting in the rich folks getting disqualified. “Wait until my parents hear about this! They’ll shut this mountain completely down!” but as expected, those complaints were all barks and no bites.

The sun beat down on your back as you hunched over the earth, your long, pointed nails digging into the clay. Untrim nails for months, maybe even years; you were not sure since you only occupied the body a few months ago.

Each thrust of your hand was met with gritty resistance. The earth, dry and stubborn, yielded only grudgingly. Tiny particles of clay, fine as dust, clung to your nails, causing a gritty discomfort that snaked up your arms, sending chills through you. Regardless of your gender, the sensation was maddening, a constant reminder of the tenacity of the very ground you were attempting to conquer.

There were some smart kids who dug platforms stacked upon each other like stairs from the soil. That is to make it easier to get out of the hole.

However, that also wastes a lot of time, and time is precious.

Your brow furrowed, and you bit your lip, the scent of nature mingling with the dust that clung to your clothes. The discomfort was a constant, a nagging reminder of the futility of your task. Yet, you dug on. It was more than just a hole you were creating; it was a statement, one that would completely change the turn of fate.

Each inch dug was a battle—a slow, agonizing victory. The earth, unforgiving and relentless, fought back, the damp clay clinging to your nails like a tenacious parasite. But you pushed on; you drew in grim concentration, your eyes burning with a singular focus.

You knew the pain and discomfort were necessary parts of the process. It was the price you paid for the freedom of creation, for defying the expectations of practicality. The discomfort was a reminder that you were pushing boundaries and challenging the very fabric of reality.

Finally, with a groan, the earth gave way. By the time the ending was announced, the hole, deep and narrow, was complete.

You looked around, and that's when you saw him. You identified him from the crowd by his green robes. The feeling of familiarity and nausea hit you like a wave.

Your survivor, your angel, is the one that’s going to drag you out of this hellhole.

He noticed you; his paper fan spread out, covering half of his face. He narrowed his eyes at you indifferently.

—-

Being a disciple of Qing Jing Peak Lord was not that bad; your life clearly improved. You don't have to fight other orphans or animals for anything. All living expenses were provided for you. You shared your daily tasks with the other disciples. During your free time, you’ll spend time watching your Shizun from afar. Aside from that, the looks of admiration and gratitude were obvious.

The wind carries the rumors.

It has only been a few months since you became a disciple, and you have already heard your share of the rumors surrounding your savior.

The rumors surrounding your savior were outrageous; you would never bring yourself to believe them, even if there were doubts surrounding them.

in the following months. You have always kept a safe distance from your savior. You can’t deny that there were desires of wanting to have physical contact with your savior. It was pure nonetheless, but it still felt wrong. Even after you left behind your past of being an orphan, you still felt filthy and tainted. You were disgusted by yourself. It wasn’t long before you realized that you had romantic feelings for your savior.

But you never have the courage to confess. Your savior was close, yet felt so distant at the same time.

——

A young disciple named Luo Binghe had just arrived, and he was taken in as your Shidi. From the start, he showed himself to be a hardworking and persistent teenager, always displaying politeness towards everyone. However, despite his good nature, your savior began to treat him unfairly, burdening him with an excessive number of tasks compared to the other disciples. This sudden change in attitude was puzzling.

Witnessing Luo Binghe being disciplined unjustly, you found yourself tending to his wounds and gradually forming a close bond with him. Despite the mistreatment, he never blamed Shizun for his hardships. As time went on, the male disciples following your savior joined in on the unfair treatment, directing their animosity towards Luo Binghe by assigning him all the unwanted tasks. Despite this, Luo Binghe continued to fulfill his duties without complaint.

Nonetheless, it pains you to see your savior acting like a monster.

——

You were unsure how it turned out this way. One day, your savior’s personality completely changed. It was almost like they were completely different people. It was also the first time that your ‘savior’ approached you willingly, apart from missions. You were happy about it, but something felt horribly wrong at the same time.

You have always had that feeling since you first became a disciple. It was wrong for a disciple to have romantic feelings for their Shizun.

This was different; it was almost as if this was an imposter living in your savior’s body; their aura was different. The imposter gives out a more outgoing and calm vibe, while your savior gives out a more indifferent and cold vibe. There is no possible way that one person could change in the span of hardly one day.

But how is it possible that somebody would look exactly like your savior? Did your savior have a twin brother? If yes, where is your savior right now? There’s no possible way that your savior would just abandon his disciples and his title without a single word.

The imposter attempted to mend your relationship; however, it didn’t work. The longer that the imposter stayed, the more hatred that you grew for him.

At the same time, you were glad that he’s now nicer to his disciples and Shidi Luo Binghe. But you simply can't get over the fact that the imposter is using your savior’s body without any permission.

Months turned into years, and your hatred toward the imposter grew numb, just like your feelings. There was no use for it anymore. You ended up leaving the peak and becoming a wandering cultivator.

When your Shidi Luo Binghe married the imposter, they invited you, hoping that you would come. Which you did.

As you watched the smiles imprinted on both your Shidi Luo Binghe and the imposter, Only then did you realize that you had officially lost your savior. Forever.

[ddawn111]

A New (And Improved?) Weapon

ROTTMNT Donatello x Reader

I just love to think that Donnie would go all out when fixing or upgrading things for reader. Total showoff mode.

Also, I’ll admit I might have gotten carried away with the schematics a little, so the chapter is pretty long. I got excited.

The lair buzzed with its usual controlled chaos, but your mind was locked on the new weapon in your hands, a mystic staff you’d claimed after Donatello so graciously (stubbornly) declined it. The concept of wielding such a powerful artifact was exciting, but the reality? Far more complicated.

Surprisingly, the weird looking staff with a small scythe blade on one end and a mace on the other was a shapeshifting weapon. The staff never changes, but different weapons or weapon attachments can materialize off of the ends.

Every time you thought you had a handle on its abilities, it would surprise you with some new twist, like a blade materializing randomly or the entire thing transforming into a flail mid-spin.

You stood in the middle of the lair, staring at the mystic staff in your hands. The smooth, wooden surface pulsed faintly with energy, the ends glowing intermittently as if mocking your lack of control. No matter how much you tried, the thing just wouldn’t cooperate. It felt alive, almost sentient, and you weren’t sure if it wanted to help or hurt you.

“Great,” you muttered, tossing it onto the couch beside you. “I’m going to accidentally vaporize someone at this rate.”

The staff rolled slightly, stopping just before it fell to the floor, and you sighed. You needed help, but the only person who could actually make sense of it was currently holed up in his lab, probably creating something absurdly genius and unnecessarily complicated.

Donatello.

Just the thought of him made your heart do that annoying flutter thing you’d been trying to ignore for years. Ever since you’d met him, his quick wit and confidence had a way of getting under your skin in the best (and most infuriating) way. Not to mention his ridiculous ability to make the simplest things sound like a declaration of brilliance.

You glanced back at the staff, biting your lip. Taking this to Donnie meant subjecting yourself to his relentless sarcasm and that infuriatingly smug smile. But it also meant spending time with him - alone.

For a moment, you debated leaving it be, but the idea of another accidental self-inflicted injury won out. You grabbed the staff and made your way to the lab, rehearsing what you’d say to avoid sounding like a complete idiot.

Frustrated but determined, you made your way to Donnie’s lab.

Donnie’s lab was exactly how you expected it—organized chaos. Tools, gadgets, and half-finished inventions were strewn across the room, glowing softly under the overhead lights. At the center of it all was Donatello, hunched over his workbench, his back to you as he worked on something at his bench. Sparks flying as he welded something you couldn’t identify, the sound sharp but rhythmic. Naturally, he didn’t notice you.

You hesitated for a moment, leaning on the doorway and watching him work. He always looked so… focused. Determined. It was one of the things you admired most about him, even if you’d never admit it out loud.

“Don,” you called, stepping closer. He didn’t respond.

“Donnie.”

Nothing.

“DON. Hey! Donnie boy!” Still nothing.

You sighed and leaned against his desk chair, twirling the staff in your hands. “Donatello!” you tried again, drawing out the name for emphasis. Still nothing. You rolled your eyes, flopping down sideways onto his desk chair with all the grace of a cat on a lazy day. “DonTron!”

Finally, the welding stopped for a beat, but it wasn’t until you called, “Mr. Genius!” with feigned exasperation that he finally turned around.

“I hear someone acknowledging my proper title,” he said smoothly, a small grin tugging at his lips as he lifted his welding mask and rubbed his forehead, finally making eye contact.

You burst out laughing. “Really? That’s the one you respond to? I’ve been calling you for, like, five minutes.”

“But of course, sweet maiden,” he replied with a theatrical bow. “I only respond to the sweet, sweet truth.”

You snorted, shaking your head. You tried not to let your face heat up at the “sweet maiden” comment, instead crossing your arms with a smirk. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously accurate.”

“Sure, sure.” You straightened and held up the staff. “Anyway, I have a formal request.”

“With what, exactly?” he asked, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms in a way that made him look far too confident.

You resisted the urge to look away and held out the staff. “This thing’s… complicated. I still don’t know what half of it does, and I’d rather not find out the hard way, sooo... Think you can analyze it and share your genius knowledge?”

Donnie’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Oh, so now you’re coming to me for help? And here I thought you were Miss Independent.”

“Don’t push it, DonTron,” you shot back, though the nickname made him grin even wider.

You batted your eyes at him for extra effect, and Donnie sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. He took the staff from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. You pretended not to notice the way your stomach flipped at the contact. “Well, since it’s a formal request,” he said, examining the weapon with a critical eye. “I suppose I can spare a moment. For you.”

“Thanks, Don-tron. You’re the best.”

“Obviously,” he said, taking the staff and walking off with it, already muttering calculations under his breath.

You lingered for a moment before leaving, wondering why it was so easy for him to fluster you without even trying.

When you returned to the lab a few days later, it was with equal parts excitement and dread. The lair buzzed as usual, but your mind was elsewhere; on the mystic staff you’d claimed and the guy who was currently tweaking it. It had taken every ounce of courage you had to hand it over to Donatello without fumbling over your words.

You’d been thinking about Donnie’s upgrades ever since you handed over the staff, but mostly, you’d been thinking about him. Every smirk, every comment, every fleeting moment spent in his orbit replayed in your mind with maddening clarity.

You’d been crushing on him for… well, longer than you cared to admit. Of course, it didn’t help that he was infuriatingly brilliant and confident in ways that left you simultaneously exasperated and weak in the knees. Still, you weren’t about to let that show. Not to him, anyway.

And now, here you were again, standing at the entrance to his lab with your heart doing somersaults.

Donnie turned as you approached, holding the staff in one hand like it was a trophy. He looked far too pleased with himself.

“Ah, my esteemed client returns,” he said, his grin widening as you stepped closer. “Prepare to be amazed.”

“Already prepared,” you quipped, crossing your arms to keep from fidgeting. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Mr. Genius.”

“Behold! your newly enhanced mystic weapon,” He handed you the staff with a flourish, and you immediately noticed it felt lighter and sleeker…and…metal? The surface was smooth and silver, with faint etchings that glowed when you touched it. It hummed softly in your hands, almost as if it were waiting for your command.

“Uh, Don, this looks… different.”

“Different?” he repeated, mock offense lacing his tone. “Try better. I’ve optimized it in every way imaginable. Allow me to demonstrate,” Donnie said straightening up.

“What exactly did you do to it?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened whenever he looked at you like that, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Behold!” Donnie gestured dramatically as he launched into a rapid-fire explanation. “The staff now splits down the middle for dual-wielding combat. Blades can eject from the ends for melee attacks in case the mystic properties fail you—which, let’s be honest, they might.

And this!” He reached over, pressing a subtle button near the middle of the staff. With a soft whir, the entire weapon collapsed down to the size of a drumstick. “Collapsible design for maximum portability. You’re welcome.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Okay, that’s… actually pretty awesome.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Donnie said, clearly relishing the moment. He pressed the button again, and the staff extended back to full length with a satisfying snap. “The exterior is reinforced with an alloy of my own design, making it nearly indestructible, and the mystic energy is now perfectly stabilized, so no more misfiring while you wield it. But wait - there’s more!”

You couldn’t help but smile as he tapped another button near the base of the staff. Instantly, small engines popped out of the back end, sleek and perfectly integrated into the design.

“Boom! Jet engines”

“Wait, jet engines? Are you serious? They’re so tiny,” you gawked, twirling the staff experimentally. It felt perfectly balanced, the mystic energy now harmonizing with Donnie’s tech.

“Silent jet engines, and yeah I’m awesome, I know,” he corrected, his grin widening, gesturing like a game show host revealing a prize. “They allow for broom-style flight. The controls are balance based, the speed and steering are controlled by your movement, so it’ll take some getting used to.”

“Wait, so you’re saying I can fly with this?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“Precisely,” he said, nodding as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I noticed you struggle with keeping pace during missions, so this should level the playing field.”

“Gee, thanks for reminding me,” you said dryly, though your heart warmed at the thoughtfulness behind the upgrade.

Donnie chuckled, but there was something softer in his gaze when he replied. “I just wanted to make sure you could keep pace with us,” he said, his voice quieter but no less confident. “Can’t have you falling behind.”

You stared at him, equal parts impressed and suspicious. “And you’re sure this is still mystic? It kind of feels like you rebuilt the whole thing from scratch.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Never question the tech man. Just enjoy the masterpiece.”

Shaking your head, you gave the staff another experimental twirl. It felt incredible in your hands, sleek, powerful, and undeniably you. The mystic energy now perfectly synchronized with Donnie’s tech. You had to admit - it was pretty awesome. “Fine, I’ll bite. What else did you add?”

Donnie smirked, tapping a finger to your temple. “That, my dear, is for you to discover.”

You tilted the staff in your hands with a smile, testing its weight. It felt perfect, like it was made just for you. “This is amazing, Don. Really. You outdid yourself,” you said in a soft voice.

“Obviously,” he quipped, though there was a faint blush creeping up his neck. He turned away quickly, pretending to fiddle with his tools.

You smiled to yourself, watching as he worked. For all his bravado, there was something undeniably endearing about moments like this, when his confidence wavered just enough to show the person underneath.

“Well,” you said, leaning the staff against your shoulder, “I guess this means I owe you one.”

Donnie glanced over his shoulder, his smirk returning full force. “Oh, you owe me several.”

Before leaving, you couldn’t resist poking around his gadget cabinet, no visit to Donnie’s lab would be complete without poking through his latest inventions. Your eyes landed on a long, sleek metal earring that stretches up from the earlobe and hooks over the helix, the design too intriguing to pass up, and you couldn’t resist trying it on.

“What’s this do?” you asked, holding it up.

Donnie looked up from his work, a frown already forming. “That’s not finished yet.”

You grinned, fixing it onto your ear. “Which means it’s fair game.”

Feeling at the metal, the moment you swiped your finger upwards from the bottom of the earring to the top, pink holographic glasses materialized over your eyes, showing holographic statistics of everything around you. “Whoa.” You waved a hand in front of your face, and the display followed your movements, like an augmented reality interface. “This is so cool.”

“Careful!” Donnie rushed over, his hand brushing yours as he adjusted the earring. “That’s still in beta.” You tilt your head to give him access to your ear and smile.

The brief contact sent a jolt through you, and for a second, neither of you moved. Then Donnie cleared his throat and stepped back, his expression unreadable.

“It’s mine now,” you teased, feeling around until you realized swiping your finger up or down the earring adjusted the transparency of the holograms clouding your vision, which, in tandem, adjusted the transparency of the glasses so your eyes were more visible as you dimmed the holograms. “I’ll take my chances. Don’t worry, I’m just ganna borrow it… indefinitely.”

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if it malfunctions, don’t blame me.”

You also snagged a pair of fingerless gloves that, when activated, transformed into sleek gauntlets. They felt light but sturdy, and you could already imagine how useful they’d be in a fight.

“Those too?” Donnie asked, trying to look irritated, but smiling watching as you flexed your fingers in the gloves.

“Hey, if you didn’t want me to take them, you shouldn’t leave them lying around,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Of course, you’d find out later that all your gadgets included Donnie’s hardware, giving him way too much control when he wanted to mess with you. (Cue the time he reversed your gauntlets mid-battle just to prove a point.)

You twirled your newly enhanced staff and glanced over at Donnie, who was already engrossed in another project. “Thanks, DonTron. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said without looking up, then added with a smirk, “Seriously, don’t mention it. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Mr. Genius.”

As you left the lab, staff in hand, gloves fitted to your hands, and earring firmly in place, you couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your mind. The way he’d smiled, the way his voice softened when he talked about making sure you could keep up, it all felt… different.

Maybe he cared more than he let on. Or maybe you were just imagining things. Either way, you weren’t about to let this crush win. Not yet, anyway.

But as you glanced back, you caught Donnie watching you leave, his expression softening for just a moment before he turned back to his work.

As you filtered out of the lab Donnie chuckled to himself thinking of how you didn’t realize your “stolen tech” was a perfect fit.

Thanks for reading! I'm so happy to finally post my first fic. Sorry for any typos.

I was thinking about expanding on this with a oneshot series, let me know your thoughts.

Feel free to request.

Page divider credit: bunnysrph

[enbyscript]

18+ MDNI nsfw. pope cody x nonbinary/trans reader. this is what i was thinking of that needed some sort of background enjoy 👌 not beta’d we are dying our little deaths here

your relationship with pope cody remained relatively slow since you first kissed him on the old couch in your apartment. now, it was most nights he would end up with you, whether in the living room or your bedroom, simply sharing space. what really changed was the connection that was now mutually understood, and welcomed.

your displays of affection remained private, for now. as much as you wanted to move as quickly as your infatuated little heart wanted, you knew that to do right by pope was to keep things steady. this was all new to him, the relationship, the idea of being wanted, and a partner like you.

so it became routine to alternate laying your heads in each others’ laps while running your hands through both your hair. soft touches, lingering kisses that didn’t go too far, but the want was there. god, was it there.

pope admitted one night as he lay in your arms, head tucked under your chin with his whole body nearly on top of you, that he found it easier sleeping in your apartment than at his mother’s house. a part of you must have known that, the dark circles under his eyes having lessened since he began staying longer and longer and eventually passing out. you felt contradicting feelings at this knowledge, your heart both broken and fluttering with life at the same time.

your heart felt a similar flutter as you laid on your side parallel to pope, lips languidly moving against his own on your bed. one of your hands stayed fisted in his black tshirt while the other alternated from his bicep, cupping his neck, or running through the auburn curls at the back of his head.

kissing pope was indescribable. you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything like it before, so how was one to compare? you could do it forever and never tire. the feeling of him relaxing under your touch was addicting, and the small noises he made heated something akin to syrup in your veins.

pope pulled away from your lips, one hand holding your cheek with the other resting on your last row of ribs; respectful, but heavy handed. you let yourself get lost in the picture he painted before you: lips swollen and wet, hair mussed and wild from your wandering hand. his attempts at gaining your eye contact pulled you from memorizing his image, your eyes now reflecting his.

“i wanna do something,” he sounded breathless, rightly so after what felt like an eternity but all to short of a kissing session. “wanna get my mouth on you. can i?” pope rarely admitted to wanting anything. almost as if he wasn’t used to being heard, and especially unused to actually getting what he wanted.

if your face wasn’t already heated it surely would be at this point. and that heat quickly went southward. pope had yet to push farther than the over the clothes touching and lip locking until now. you refused to be the one to take that step, explicitly letting him know it wasn’t for lack of wanting him— god, it was the complete opposite. you could get lost in pope so easily, but he had to be ready and wanting, not just willing to appease.

“yeah, anything you want.” his eyes fluttered shut at your words, lips ghosting a smile against yours as he slowly maneuvered you onto your back. your hands splayed by your sides as he inched his way down the bed to settle on his knees. calloused fingers traced up the outside of your legs, over the hem of your boxers and landing on the waistband.

pope’s forefingers teased at the waistband for a moment, eyeing the sliver of skin above it thanks to your sleep shirt riding up just so. the wispy smattering of body hair catching his attention before getting back to his task. the entire time you followed his touch, consistently flitting between his actions and his face. you were braced for any sign of his discomfort, at worst possible disgust.

all you could see was wonder.

finally he hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled your boxers down. pope didn’t even look to where he tossed them, too focused on you before him.

your heart began racing with anxiety and anticipation. you were already wet from his kiss and modest groping, but looking at him looking at you made you keenly aware of the feeling. pope’s hands settled onto your knees, gently pulling them apart to get a good look at your center.

he couldn’t believe he had you here, like this, right in front of him. and it was real. your center glistening and wet because of him— for him. the thought alone had him aching, pants suddenly much tighter than before. pope’s fingertips caressed your lips before making their way higher.

“it’s big, your,” his voice trailed off as he studied your swollen clit with his eyes, your breath hitching as he prodded with his touch.

“t-the hormones. makes it grow at first, but it’s still the same,” he’s asked questions before about what changes someone would experience, like you. his genuine curiosity made it feel less like teaching, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, into more like sharing parts of yourself.

he continued like that for a bit, taking his time studying your flesh beneath his touch. mapping out your anatomy as well as figuring out where he could touch and with how much pressure to make you react. your eyes closed when he applied more pressure around your clit.

“ha-ah,” steady exhales let him know he was doing it right. well, he already knew what he was doing in general, but this with you was new.

you felt it before you saw, eyes snapping open when pope finally put his mouth on you. he licked from hole to top without rush, savoring the burgeoning taste on his tongue.

“oh, you feel good,” you moaned, tightening your hold on the bedding. your praise ignited something in pope, then. his eyes darting up to your face, zeroing in on your clit before he wrapped his lips around it and sucked.

the air was knocked out of you, one hand shooting to ensnare itself in his curled hair. you whimpered as he continued his assault, alternating between bobbing his lips and licking along your bundle of nerves. each change in movement amplified the pressure building in your core.

pope lost himself in the moment, allowing himself enjoy having you splayed out under his tongue, hands holding your thighs apart to provide space to get as close as he possibly could just short of crawling into your skin. the twitch of your muscles under his touch, his mouth, and the positively debauched sounds had his cock aching so terribly that he sought relief in the form of grinding against your mattress. each roll of his hips downward had him breathing heavier into you.

the cycle of repetitive licking and sucking continued as your core tightened impossibly, moans and praises increasing concurrently.

“m’close, oh, keep going, andrew,” his name fell from your lips as you reached your peak, white hot pleasure shooting up and through you.

andrew couldn’t stop—wouldn’t. his vigor renewed at the feeling of your orgasm, but his name registering in his ears slammed him like a fucking freight train. he pressed his face further against your sex to smother the wanton moan that slipped from his lips, hips stuttering against the bed as his cock painted the inside of his underwear with his unexpected peak.

once the aftershocks subsided, andrew eased himself up to collapse by your side. you took a couple of minutes to catch your breath before deciding how to follow such an earth shattering experience.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom, then i’ll grab you some clean underwear,” you both locked eyes as you detailed what you were about to do. any sudden movement or absence without due warning was unlikely to comfort pope. he nodded understanding, easing your worry before following true to your words.

you found your underwear on the floor on the way out and slipped them on, and upon your return acquiring a clean pair from your drawer. he slipped off his jeans and let you help him out of his soiled boxers and into the fresh pair.

you kissed him before you resumed your prior positioning on the bed. hands cupping his stubbled cheeks while you poured all the overflowing affection from your heart into your lips. you felt his own raise to a smile, eyes closed as you pulled away and remaining when his eyes reopened. you maneuvered yourself flat on your back while andrew wrapped himself around your frame and rested his head against your chest, relaxing his body to the sound of your heartbeat.

“i can’t believe i fuckin’ came in my pants like a teenager,” andrew’s soft laughter was buried against your shirt, nosing against the soft cotton of your shirt. you smiled and let out a laugh of your own with him, fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp.

“i loved it, might make you do it again sometime,” he snorted at your teasing. the room grew quiet save for each other’s steady breaths.

peace settled in your bones as your brain began to shut down for sleep. andrew gingerly pulled the covers over you both, returning his arm to its rightful place hugging your waist. you could feel the last shred of tension ease from his muscles as he slipped into slumber.

[kozukind]

first-(ish) post?

the rest is available on ao3. a little ramble on Leviathan from obey me?? This is more of a test on how tumblr works but!

warnings: none.

Leviathan knows envy.

Like a trusted familiar, the sin clings to his back and anchors itself to him— deems him worthy enough of being the lucky ship that won’t be set from its harbor, day in and night over, Leviathan learns to know himself more and more.

The good and the bad, the ironic greed that comes with the bitterness of longing. Like always, he comes close to last place, outmatched by even the laziest of demons. Stuck against the current instead of being taken with it, alone, he bears the knowledge of thirst.

(A kind of lust he can’t escape, whereas Asmodeus can easily get the haze quenched and drink from something until satisfied, such luxury is lost on him.)

The thirst he wants quashed would mean to step out of his shell and let the world accept him as he is— purely Leviathan. (Un)apologetically mediocre and lacking in every department that could max out his stats, make him stand out amongst his brothers.

It’s not a question of power, he is power. Levi knows. Amongst the seven of them, he ranks easily third— undefeated by his juniors, feared by ancient demons with floating whispers of what was once the “Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy”.

When war was something he could pride himself in, when the possibility to solve anything by blood was an option, before peace with the Celestial Realm was to be established and that day by day, he’d lose himself even more. Forever changed with the absence of violence.

Then he found an escape. Shameful and laughable as it was, when he had first fallen— Leviathan found comfort in the shows the world offered, buried himself deep under the common folk. He gave up what little social interactions he could muster, locked himself up in his room and established his kingdom.

(Alone at night he’d wonder if all of this truly had freed him. If being closed off and aching truly had been the cure to his torment— a firm body against the waves, something born out of stubbornness.)

When it gets late (although it’s always late in Devildom), Leviathan falls asleep with nothing to look forward to other than an unlimited exclusive launch of whatever Ruri merchandise he hasn’t gotten his hands on over the centuries.

And alone in silence, Leviathan sometimes cries.

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Castlevania - Alucard x Listener SFW Comforting Alucard After A Nightmare

[M4A] [Set soon after the finale of Castlevania Season 4 (there are no Nocturne spoilers here)] [Established romantic relationship] [Reverse nightmare comfort] [TW mentions of death, murder, very brief mention of Alucard's sexual assault that happens in season 3, death of parents and grieving]

Didn't realise season 2 of Nocturne was releasing so soon and I wasn't sure if I'd get around to watching it, saw one picture of Olrox, and whoops watched the entire season in one evening. This audio was requested before season 2 came out and was scheduled for later but I brought it forwards since hopefully there will be some want for Alucard right now. I got too inot this one and how much I need Vlad and Lisa to have told Adrian that they're still alive that while pretending to cry in this audio I actually started crying oops. It's a shame the Castlevania shows aren't more popular. I always see such a lack of fanworks compared to other shows like Arcane. I know there is more horror and violence in Castlevania than Arcane, but Castlevania and Nocturne are such wonderful shows, well-written, beautifully animated, and nice representation on top of all of that.

A non-spoilery thing that got me with season 2 is how often Mizrak was allowed to cry, not just a little welling of tears in his eyes, this big stereotypically macho masculine man was allowed to just sob over and over, in front of other men, and he was never shamed for it, never embarrassed by doing it. And that shouldn't be so groundbreaking to me in 2024, but sadly I think there still isn't enough of male characters being allowed to show intense emotions that aren't anger. I've also loved in the Castlevania shows how gay/queer relationships are normalised. Striga and Morana, Alucard being bisexual, Olrox and Mizrak... there's never any homophobia thrown at them by other characters. Mizrak might have internalise-homophobia, but his inner conflict seems to more be because Olrox is a vampire not that he's a man. And I don't care whether that's historically accurate, I personally like seeing historical and fantasy settings where they just decide homophobia/transphobia don't exist. I don't think that's erasure, I think it can be an enjoyable fantasy for queer people to enjoy a period drama where queer people can exist in the open with the understanding that this is a fantasy piece and not a historical documentary. I don't know, maybe that's just me who loves historical settings who would love to see and read stories about gay and trans characters being able to be out in the 1800s and what that would look like, what a 1700s binder could have looked like, what 1920s advertisements for shaving razors aimed at trans fems could have looked like, things like that. I don't know, maybe that's just me, I just think it's fun to think about. Sorry that this ramble ended up in an audio description.

Anyway I'm glad I got an Alucard request, I love him very much. And I love his Nocturne design. I've seen some complain about it but they frankly sound like borderline transphobia when they're complaining that he 'looks to feminine'. I think he looks beautiful, and it's definitely giving the same aesthetics as Ayami Kojima's original illustrations and concept for Castlevania where frankly most of the men she draws look more androgynous than typically 'masculine'.

.

Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[justhereforxreaders]

The Prince and the Dragon Rider - Part Seven: The Rift

Jacaerys Velaryon x dragon rider!reader

Summary: while still reeling from your first day in King’s Landing, you must come to terms with the command given during your private conversation with Princess Rhaenyra.

Warnings: angst, anxiety/panic attacks

part one: the oath

part two: tempest

part three: the dawn

part four: the test

part five: precipice

part six: pieces and players

soundtrack - listening recommendations:

• triassic love song by Paris Paloma • I’d Have to Think About It by Leith Ross • putting a spin on good luck, babe! by Egg • Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan •

After making your way through the endless maze of The Red Keep, and finally finding your newly assigned chambers within the palace, you sat in the stillness trying to calm yourself. Though you’d have likely found more rest if you had continued to wander. The opulence of the vast, unfamiliar space only made you feel more isolated and out of place.

With no other anchor to cling to as you try to soothe your heartache, your mind drifts to your mother.

Six short years of life by her side gave you little insight into the kind of person she was, or the kind of person she hoped you’d be. She was likely kind, and certainly clever, but what you knew without question was that she was incomparably fierce. In your bleakest moments on your journey with Tempest, you’d holdfast to the memory of her strength, using it endure whatever challenges you faced.

Surviving life’s hardships was your way to honor her sacrifices. And though, you told yourself that she’d be proud of who you’d become, you’d always pondered what kind of life she’d have wished for you if survival hadn’t been her primary driving force. If she’d been given the opportunity to be carefree and gentle, what kind of person would that have made you. Surely she wanted more than mere survival for you, but was the life you sold yourself to what she’d have wanted for you? Were you still honoring her memory?

Which was why, as fierce as you had made yourself and as hard as you fought to prove your worth within a realm of dragonlords, you also strived to preserve some of the softness within you that she was denied. If there was hope that you’d be able to find a peaceful life, you wanted your heart to be able to receive it.

However, as you sit alone with an ache so powerful it feels as though your chest has been set alight, you begin to despise your effort to protect that tenderness. If all you were meant to do was simply become a pawn in someone else’s game, what use was there for softness? What need was there for love?

You are so consumed by your thoughts that you do not hear the soft knock at your door or the quiet footsteps that tiptoe across the room as you lie motionless on top of your bedding. When Jace whispers your name from the foot of the bed, it takes you a moment to realize it is not in your head.

“Are you alright?” he whispers slightly louder, voice laced with concern. “I returned to the godswood and you had already gone.”

You sit up slowly, avoiding his eyes, and fold your legs beneath you, keeping your gaze fixed on the fabric below. After a beat and no response from you, you hear him shuffle around to the side of the bed.

“What did my mother speak to you about?” He asks quietly and your breath hitches.

He takes notice and moves to sit at the edge of the bed. Unable to bring yourself to voice the Princess’s command, you force yourself to look up and find his gaze in the dark. His eyes widen at your disheveled state and he darts a hand out to grasp yours.

“What happened?” He asks in a frantic whisper. “What’s wrong?”

You close your eyes and take your hand from his, steadying yourself with a shaky breath before finding your voice.

“I have been instructed to keep my distance from you,” your voice cracks, hoarse from hours of silence following your onslaught of tears.

“By who?” He moves closer to your face to see you clearly, “My mother?”

You sigh deeply and nod your head, he stands from the bed suddenly and you watch as he begins to pace the floor.

“She believes the nature of our companionship could be called into question, thus, jeopardizing your prospects for alliances through marriage.” You mutter.

“I fail to see why anyone would concern themselves with such speculation. You are my friend. Where is the fault in that?” He huffs and continues to pace back and forth.

“Jacaerys,” you say softly, “look at us. The closeness of our friendship is no secret to anyone, but what if you were to be discovered here? Alone in my chambers in the dead of night?” He stops in his tracks, as if this is the first he’s considered this, “Accusations and assumptions would not be difficult to form.”

“Why should it matter what they say, if it isn’t true?” He mumbles, staring intently at the floor.

“It doesn’t matter what they say or what they think,” You stand, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to contain the sorrow building within, “but I cannot allow them to turn me into a weapon to be used against you.”

His head snaps up in your direction, the confusion plain on his face as you continue.

“Look at why we’ve travel all this way in the first place. There are always going to be those looking to undermine and discredit someone in your position. Whether you admit it or not, you know our friendship could harm you and your standing. I will not risk being complicit in your pain.”

“And what of the pain that your absence would inflict? Why must we be forced to choose between happiness and duty?” He pleads and steps toward you.

“Your mother tried to have both, did she not?” You say plainly and he finds your eyes before placing his hands on your arms.

“Yes but this is different, there has to be a way,” there is a desperation in his voice that you have not heard before that breaks your heart even further, “Why must her mistakes determine our future? We can find our own path.”

You step closer and unfold your arms, taking hold of his hands as he makes to pull them away.

“The moment I took my oath, I knew I was giving up my right to my own path, Jace. For a time, it was easy to forget the larger roles we would be called to play. It felt like we could have both…” your voice trails off as you absentmindedly run your thumbs across the backs of his hands, “But the pieces are moving. And we must take our place.” Your voice wavers, if there were any tears left in your body they would be flowing freely.

He looks down at your clasped hands, gripping them tighter.

“But I can’t lose you.” He utters before returning his gaze back to yours, tears beginning to form in his deep brown eyes, “If I am to walk this horrid path then I only wish to do it with you by my side.”

You both stand quietly in the darkness, searching each other’s eyes, letting his words hang in the air around the two of you.

A hushed gasp leaves his lips and he takes a step back. Eyes wide and hands trembling as they leave yours. You cross your arms over your chest, taking a ragged breath which causes Jacaerys to take half step forward. Raising a palm in protest, you step away.

“Please go,” you sob softly.

He opens his mouth slightly, a question forming on his lips.

“Please, Jace,” you interrupt as sternly as you can manage, “I can’t.”

He closes his mouth and stares at you for a moment, unmoving, eyes locked on your face. Involuntarily, he begins to walk towards the door, still watching you intently, conflict and confusion becoming clearer upon his face with every step away from you. You nod silently once he reaches the door and with one last pained glance he exits your chambers, once again leaving you in solitude.

You retreat back to the bed and collapse into the fabric, curling up on your side as the tearless sobs begin to rack your body once more. Cursing the tenderness you have allowed to blossom there. As you desperately will the pain into numbness, you are at last given some relief as you are mercifully pulled into a dreamless sleep.

You awake with the dawn in a daze, taking a moment to remember where you are as you look about your unfamiliar surroundings. Once your mind is fully pulled from the fog of sleep, you stand from the bed and make your way across the room, trying to stretch your tired muscles as you pull fresh clothes from your bag.

As you rummage through your belongings, the red cloak you were gifted when you were sworn into service comes to the surface. You look upon it quietly for a moment before retrieving your other items of clothing and rushing back to the bed to dress yourself, doing your best to stomp out the sparks of anguish that its appearance brings forth.

Dressing yourself slowly and deliberately, you keep your mind focused on each step, trying to avoid inciting any further emotional responses. However, the red of the cloak makes that task all the more difficult as it lingers in the periphery of your vision. After fully dressing you dart back to the bag, intent on burying the cloak deep within, but a knock on the door stays your hand for the moment.

A handmaiden enters and offers you a bow.

“The Lady Baela,” she announces and backs out through the door as Baela steps forward.

“Good morrow, y/n,” she says with a bright smile.

“Good morrow, my Lady,” you bow stiffly, “how can I be of service?”

She walks forward, looking over your chambers until she spies a small table then turns back to you.

“I thought we might break fast together before we make our way to the throne room for the petitions,” she grimaces slightly at the mention of today’s events, “I imagined my cousins would be occupied with other affairs and didn’t want you to be left behind.”

The thought of the Princes causes a twisting pain in your chest but you do your best to smile politely.

“Thank you,” you mutter, “that’s very kind of you.”

She makes her way across the floor to stand next to you, a mischievous glimmer in her eye.

“I wondered if you might tell me about your travels as well,” she quirks a brow inquisitively, “Rhaena has already told me so much but I’d love to hear them from you if you’re willing to share?”

“Rhaena has told you about me?” Your brow furrows as you register her words.

“She has,” she chuckles lightly at your expression, “in letters and through most of the night, in fact.”

“That is surprising,” you say, taken aback by this revelation, “I thought she despised me.”

“She may,” she shrugs, rolling her eyes at her twin,“but more than anything she hates what she was denied. When we lived in Pentos, we had heard rumors of the wild sea dragon that lurked in the waters. For a time, Rhaena had plans to find it and claim it for herself before our mother died.”

You reel back in disbelief.

“I was unaware I had such a reputation,” you breath a laugh, a genuine smile growing at the corner of your lips.

Baela smirks and nods her head.

“You and your dragon have made quite a name for yourselves,” she takes you by the crook of the arm, “I look forward to testing mine and Moondancer’s mettle against yours one day.”

“I look forward to that as well, my Lady,” you nod in agreement.

Another knock rings out and more servants enter with platters of warm food.

“Shall we?” She asks and gestures towards the table where the meal has been placed.

“Yes please,” you say with a grateful sigh.

Conversation with Baela flowed effortlessly, bringing an ease to your soul as the two of you swapped stories over the meal. The relief was much too short lived however, as once the servants had cleared the table, Baela’s handmaiden steps forward.

“It’s time, my Lady,” she informs the two of you and you freeze in place.

Baela sees the change in your demeanor and thanks her handmaiden before she stands and moves to offer her hand to pull you from your seat.

“We’ll be along shortly.” She calls with a nod before returning her attention to you.

Her eyes soften and she sighs quietly.

“My mother used to say that The Red Keep was poisonous, but that poison could not harm a dragon.”

You take her hand and she pulls you to your feet.

“You may not be the blood of the dragon. But you certainly have the heart of one,” she smiles softly meeting your eyes to ensure you understand, “Don’t let them take that from you.”

You take a deep breath and stand at attention.

“Are you ready?” She asks calmly.

“Yes,” you pause, looking back to your belongings, “just give me one moment.”

You step over to your bag pull the cloak free, swinging it over your shoulders in one swift motion before affixing it with a black dragon clasp. Returning to Baela’s side, she beams proudly and links her arm through yours.

“Onwards, Dragon Rider.”

• @freefallthoughts @eywas-heir

[spr1ngbunnypvrin]

[“Nothing Personal” – FNAF 2 AU / 1987 / Fritz Smith & Dave Miller]

Notes: An old AU that I wrote a long time ago and abandoned in daft for almost a few months, but I guess I'm coming back to it? And the reader here can be considered an accomplice of William and lives under a false identity with the name "Fritz Smith," just like he does, the story only takes the setting similar to the game timeline - 1987.

12/2/1987. Graveyard shift, backroom silence.

You’re sipping from a cracked thermos, boots propped lazily on a crate of unused party hats.

Across from you, “Dave Miller” leans on the edge of a dusty shelf, arms crossed, one brow twitching as he watches you retell some dumb story Jeremy Fitzgerald told you—something about Balloon Boy and a can of spray cheese.

"You know," Dave says, voice laced in that syrupy false politeness that never quite covers the venom, "Fitzgerald’s got a real talent for making nothing sound like Shakespeare. Really riveting."

You glance at him, deadpan. “Jealous?”

He scoffs. “Of what? Your riveting bromance with a night guard whose entire personality is made of static electricity and expired chewing gum?” He raises a brow. “Hardly.”

You smirk, pushing your luck. “Hmm. You sure? You’ve been a bit twitchy every time he walks past.”

“I’m twitchy because this hellhole is infested with animatronics that want to redecorate my ribcage, not because Jeremy gave you half a donut and called you ‘bro.’”

“Dave”—you lean forward, the amusement dancing just beneath your breath—“did you seriously just say the word ‘bromance’? Who even are you?”

He goes quiet for a second. Too quiet.

Then: “Just a guy,” he mutters, not meeting your gaze. “trying not to lose what little I’ve got left.”

And just like that, the moment shifts again. The silly cracks into the solemn. The cheap fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and for a moment, you remember why you’re both hiding.

—

The clock above the Parts & Service room ticked with a mocking rhythm—3:41 AM. The kind of hour where shadows stretch too long and silence feels like it's breathing behind your neck.

You sat cross-legged on the cold floor, flicking a lighter open and closed with one hand, a ritual born of boredom and anxiety. Dave stood with his shoulder leaning against a file cabinet like he owned the place, which, in a twisted sense, maybe he did.

His badge was fake. So was yours. But the way he watched everything—you, especially—felt all too real.

“So,” you said, voice low, “what’s eating you?”

He didn’t look at you at first. Just muttered, “Nothing.”

“You’ve said ‘nothing’ three times tonight, and every time it sounded more like ‘jealousy’ trying to wear a trench coat.”

His gaze snapped to you. Gray eyes flashing with something sharp. “You think I’m jealous of Fitzgerald?”

You offered him a smirk. “I think you get weirdly fidgety when he gets near me.”

Dave—William—let out a breath that was half laugh, half growl. He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it further, like he was seconds away from combusting.

“He’s annoying. Loud. Keeps leaving the hallway cameras off. One of these days, Bonnie’s gonna play peekaboo with his spleen and I won’t feel a damn thing.”

You raised a brow. “Still doesn’t explain why you keep glaring at him every time he calls me ‘Fritz’ with that stupid grin.”

Silence.

Then: “He doesn’t deserve that name coming out of his mouth.”

You paused. That caught you off guard. “...What?”

William’s voice dropped—lower, quieter, but laced with fire. “You don’t get it. That name isn’t some prop. It’s armor. It’s yours. And he—he treats it like a joke. Like all this,” he motioned around, “is a joke.”

Your breath stilled for a beat.

There it was. The truth, tangled in ego and fear.

He wasn’t just jealous. He was scared.

Scared of losing whatever fragile thread connected you to him. The only person who saw through his act, maybe even before he did.

“I’m not going anywhere, y’know,” you said, voice softer now. “Fake name or not.”

He turned away for a second, pretending to be interested in a broken Freddy head on the shelf. “You say that now.”

“I mean it,” you said firmly, rising to your feet, stepping into his space with reckless calm. “But if you want me to stop being friendly with Jeremy just because it bruises your weird, secret possessive heart—”

“It’s not possessive—”

“—then maybe stop pretending you don’t care when I sit with you instead.”

He looked at you then. Fully. The act, for just a flicker of a moment, melted. William Afton, no mask, no grin. Just the man. Ragged, brilliant, and tired.

“You know,” he murmured, “you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep...”

You leaned in, voice steady. “And you shouldn’t push people away just because you think you don’t deserve them.”

A beat. Then another. Then—

“...Fritz.” It came out like a confession. “You really do drive me insane sometimes.”

You smiled. “Good. Means I’m doing my job.”

And in the far corner of the room, a broken animatronic twitched.

But neither of you moved.

[itsabea]

March x Reader - Oneshot: Secret Whispers

Description: You and March haven't been dating for long, and lately he seems a bit withdrawn. You don't know what's going on or what to think at first, and no one else seems to know either. While you aren't suspicious of him cheating or anything, you are sure that he's hiding something..

Warnings: slight angst, swearing, March is a softie, a bit long,

i was out of ideas and did a prompt generator when 'secret whispers' came up and i had this idea and i just couldn't not-

Your boyfriend was the only person you knew who could zone in on things so expertly. Whether it be a work request for anything but nails, you, or even when he's curious or interested in something. He would zone in like there was no tomorrow.

And while you found that fact amazing, and so dang cute to witness, right now March was fully zoned in on something - but you had no idea what it was. You had asked Olric and Ryis about what he seemed so busy with lately, but neither were aware of what he was doing.

It wasn't that March was ignoring you either, since he'd always give you a kiss on the cheek when passing each other, and would still spend time with you. But the fact still stood that you felt March was.. Brushing you off. Like he was doing something that he felt was very important. It had you feeling left out is all.

Of course, the thought of March cheating had never stayed long, or had even been humoured in your mind. He just wasn't the type to be able to: one, socialise with other people easily, and two: be able to make a bond with other people easily. March really just wasn't built that way.

One thing you did entertain was that he might simply be doing some work for out of town buyers. It was probable enough, but still left you confused about the state it had put March in. I mean- He was in the zone. So zoned in and focused on.. Whatever he was doing, that he even missed joining the latest Friday night get-together at the Inn.

You hadn't yet confronted March about what he was doing, but figured it was about time you got an answer- Or at least a hint at what he was up to. Which lead to this very moment of you approaching March as he worked away at the Forge.

"Hey, March?" You asked, stretching your head up and out on a slight angle as you spoke, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he was working away at. "Yeah? I'm a bit busy with this stupid nail order.. But what's up?" March said back, ceasing his clanging for a moment as he turned his head to the side and gave you more of his attention.

"Oh, I've just been wondering if you got a commission lately. You've been really.." You paused for a moment, not wanting to mention that he was 'in the zone'. "You've just seemed really busy lately." You finished, smiling as he looked back at you with questioningly.

"What are you-" His slight squinting and frown disappeared when March cut himself off. It was a mere beat of silence before he spoke up again, prompting you to notice the slight tinge of colour on his ears when he turned his head from you and focused back on the nails he was making.

"Don't worry, it's nothing." March said, although a bit too quickly, before elaborating slightly. "I won't be busy for much longer.. Don't worry- Oh, and make sure you're not busy this Wednesday, okay?" March said before hammering away at the soon to be nails again. Thankfully, you weren't busy Wednesday, but you still didn't know much about what March had been doing lately, let alone the new mystery of why he wanted you free that Wednesday.

While on your way home, you ended up passing Olric and Errol in the Town Square, and caught part of their conversation before leaving earshot. "I swear I saw March doing some kind of.. Jumping dance a few nights ago in the Narrows. It was such a strange sight." Errol said as Olric spoke up after. "Hmm.. I'll have to ask him. But that reminds me that I noticed him using a new temperature at the Forge last week.."

The conversation they had kept with you all throughout the days leading up to Wednesday, where you now sat at your spot by Caldarus. He wasn't the biggest fan of March, but Caldarus was still willing to listen to your ramblings about said boyfriend, and today was no different.

"So, do you know when he'll get here?" Caldarus asked you, prompting you to sigh out with a very visible pout. "No.... I forgot to ask.. And I've been so busy trying to figure out what he's up to that it slipped my mind.." You admitted, slumping into your now propped up hand as you waited next to Caldarus for most of the late morning.

You had quickly fed your animals before you started waiting, but now you had watered your crops, pat your animals, and fished a bit in the river by your farm. And March still hadn't shown up.

The sun was starting to set now, and a pool of sadness began to sit in your stomach. Just as you started your walk back to Caldarus, wanting to confide in him about March not showing up today, you heard the familiar tune of March calling your name.

"Hey, you ready? Sorry I'm a bit late, I-" "Wha- I've been waiting all day!" You said in exasperation as you made your way towards him in a huff. "What do you mean? I mailed you the time of our date." March said with a frown as he looked over at your mailbox. "No you-" Turning, you found a letter half sticking out of said box, prompting your face to go beat red in shame.

How could you have missed that all day? To be fair, you had gotten a bit excited about what March might have wanted you free on Wednesday for.. Only to get mad when he didn't show up.... The slight chuckle that escaped your boyfriend didn't go unnoticed by you, having you look up at him with tired, watery eyes.

"Hey- Wh-" March started after receiving the look you sent him, full of exhaustion that combined with sadness. "I-" You took a moment to gather your words. "I'm tired.. I'm upset with you.. And I need a shower." You said, still slightly muddy and sweaty from your work, despite having not done too much due to the nice clothes you had put on for today.

"Ah.... I guess that's partially my fault.." March admitted, turning to look away from you for a moment, only to look back and swiftly pick you up. "March! What-" "Let's get you cleaned up, and then I'm carrying you to our date. Unless you don't feel like it, then.. I guess I'll try to reschedule somehow." March said, taking you straight to your house and helping with what he could of getting you cleaned up.

You started feeling better as March helped take care of you. He was showing you so much care and attention that the past while of him being busy seemed to melt away. Of course, you hadn't forgotten your curiosity of what he's been up to, but you only decided to raise the question once your energy had mostly returned, and once you agreed and were being carried off to the date he had planned.

"So.. Why have you been so busy lately?" You asked while cradled in his arms, on your way to the Eastern area across from you and Celine's. "You'll find out." March replied with, a slight smiled attempting it's way onto his face as you frowned at him. But when you turned back forward as you entered the Eastern Road side of Town, you were at a loss for words.

Jars filled with fireflies were littered about the area around the ponds, lighting up the ground in a magical way that had you astounded. March was slowly putting you down, allowing you to walk before taking your hand and slowly leading you across the bridge and towards spot with the lone bench and pear tree.

You continued looking around breathlessly, watching the jars you'd get closer to with great interest as the fireflies would twinkled about inside. Before you knew it, you were already at the bench by the larger pond, still staring in awe as March finally spoke up beside you. "I take it you like my surprise? Just so you know, those fuckers were real hard to catch." He said, knowing pride already set in his voice as you had to ask for solid confirmation.

"You did this?" You asked, turning from the breath taking scene before you to look at March beside you, who was still holding your hand. His eyes softened as he looked from you to your hand and back, slowly bringing you hand up towards him as he bowed his head and softly kissed the top of it with a smirk. "You answer me first; do you like it?"

You could only breathe out your reply as you tore your gaze away from March and back out at the display he had done for you. "Yes.." You said, barely above a whisper as you felt March straighten up slightly, only to lean in next to your ear.

"Good." He whispered back, the satisfied smile showing through his words. "I love you." March added after a second of silence, leaning down to kiss your hand again as your face erupted with a deep hue.

[constanttea]

Employment Status: It's Complicated

Chapter One: Workplace Crush

This is me taking my shot at putting more Elias X Readers out into the world.

Work is slow today, more slow than usual. After dealing with a particularly juicy research project, you feel an overwhelming need to take a break. It is a bit like feeling sleepy after eating too much, and there is a light feeling fluttering around within you that you cannot quite put your finger on, like butterflies flitting around your skull. There are, however, more hours than preferable left in your day. So unfortunate. You dig through your bag you brought with you to work, considering taking out your phone and checking messages. As your fingers settle around the treasure they seek, a hair raises at your neck making you reconsider. It has a camera. Always watching, right–you really do need a break though. It can’t hurt. Can it?

You consider your options. You have a thermos of unfinished coffee, a book, your phone, and your wallet. You used to drink coffee much more, but you have been having less and less of an appetite these days, for food at least. Changes that pinch and pull at your insides like a second puberty. You could have questioned what you were going through more, you suppose, but no…one would expect that they are affected by what they surround themselves with. You have had a feeling for a long time that this rings true for you. As the strangeness of what you surround yourself with becomes more familiar, more satisfying. The questions and answers come to you easier.

Book it is. You pull out your book flipping to a random page. You have read it once or twice. There are pages worn and water stains on some pages from your tears and late nights. There is a dog-eared corner on the page that finds you. A warm flush rises to your face as you recognize the page. There is a mild personal shame at the scene you are faced with and the fact that you marked it to come back to. It’s the turning point in a painful strangers to enemies because of unfortunate misunderstandings and lack of communication becoming a romance. The characters have an incredibly heated and overly described kiss, and well, it’s–

“Well that doesn’t look like an antique mirror.”

Your shoulders tense and you lift your gaze from the page, tearing yourself away from the kiss, your eyes pause on his lips for a moment longer than they should have. You can’t help it, the scene on the page is still so fresh in your mind. If anything, there is a curiosity welling within you. You can’t voice it though, that would be entirely too unprofessional. “I finished up with it. I was taking a break. Seemed like a slow day.”

His vest is fully buttoned, sticking to his frame in a slim and tailored way. There is a dark beauty to him; Elias Bouchard is the kind of beautiful that is so hard to look away from. There is a loading period you always go through when you meet his gaze. You feel as if you cannot think for those first moments or absorb anything, but how can you? He has such captivating eyes that seem to drink you in. A beauty that is dark in the way that it takes your breath away and suffocates you, drowns you.

There is something almost lost in time about the way he holds himself. There is a bit of condescension there as well, but it doesn’t always bother you. If anything, you like a little bit of debate now and then. It’s healthy, and you feel like being difficult today. Elias really does bring out the worst in you.

You don’t feel that what you chose to do was wrong, so you turn your gaze back to the book. He clears his throat, and you turn the page. His hand enters your frame of vision as he slides the book out of your hand, the movement is hot and sharp against your hand, pinching at a finger as it leaves you. You turn to gaze back into his eyes, a rising annoyance like a whistling kettle sings within you. His eyes flicker from side to side, absorbing the page far too quick. Looking way too fast to possibly have read it. The kettle is whistling louder, your face feels so warm, and you would shed your outer layer right now if it weren’t for the fact that it wouldn’t prevent you from overheating. It didn’t help that you were working through that intimate scene right before you came in. The warmth is fueled by a pool of emotions and feelings within, the problem is so much deeper than your skin. Death by embarrassment.

“How chaste,” he comments. Shutting the book and placing it back on your desk with a touch so light it lands quieter than the noise from snapping the book shut. 

“Can I help you?”

“Do you know what day it is?” His hand finds the area just above his hip as he shifts his weight.

“It’s a…,” you pause, the heat traveling to your chest, choking your words, “Friday.” Shit. 

“Running out of work is one thing, but I don’t appreciate your lack of punctuality.” He towers over you, his words stabbing into you like sharpened pencils. You were supposed to have some evaluation today. Blah blah something about your work and how well or poorly you’ve been doing. Feedback or something. 

“Sorry, I…”

“The thing is you really are a fantastic employee. Your work is always impeccable. When you didn’t show up, I assumed you must have gotten caught up in paperwork.” You take a deep breath, trying to slow your racing heart. “...so imagine my surprise to find you red-faced reading a romance book down here.” Caught red handed, well, red-faced. Damn.

One end of his collar is quirked up at a slight angle like a page wrinkled the wrong way. It itches you to see. He calls out your name, tearing you from your trance, “You’re bleeding,” he announces. There is blood sliding down your index finger. When he took the book, some pages had sliced at your finger. The blood flows freely, dripping onto the surface of your desk. He sighs and disappears into a corner. The sounds of cabinets and draws flipping open and shut echoes and clatters in your ear drums alongside your heart, and your finger pulses with the beat of your heart. Paper cuts suck ass. He says words that go in one ear and out the other as he bandages your hand. You close your eyes, and the world rights itself. 

What an awful situation to find yourself in! Laughable almost. Reminds you of a scene in the book, but he’s your boss, and that’s a really weird thought to have. What happened to questioning your humanity? Maybe that ought to make a comeback. He is quick and practiced with his movements, his fingers are feather light over yours. His words scratch at you, finally starting to come together in something comprehensible. He had been showering you with the occasional kind word. You have come so far. You have learned so much since coming here. You are quite different than you once were. You get distracted easily, however. 

Ah, everything about him is so well composed and perfectly tailored. You can’t help but wonder what he would do if you interlocked your fingers with his. If you did something out of turn. 

“Can you stop that?”

“I didn’t do anything!” You have been sitting here quietly and quite patiently this whole time. Maybe you haven’t been the best listener, but you are just fighting away so many things right now. It’s so warm. You could do with a nap. You’re a bit embarrassed, and–

“I am flattered by your affections,” he raps his knuckle on the desk, asking for your attention, “--but they are quite misplaced. My position over you and our relationship is purely professional, and I am quite possibly the first male role model in your life that has offered you genuine feedback. Don’t mistake your own pride and preening for romance.”

Cold. Cold, cruel, and unusual from your mind reader boss. There are stranger things. For one, there’s a mirror with shadows close by in the background. They are always watching, of course you can’t see them on your own, but they’re there. It is hard to escape watching eyes without getting lost yourself. 

The rings on his fingers are thick and solid. They clink as he raises his hand, waving it in front of your face. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. Go home. You clearly aren’t up for any other work today.” 

There are so many things you want to say, but the words cannot bother to leave your lips. Is it even worth it? Won’t he know? There is a part of you that wants to bite and bark, argue with him. It stings, the blatant mention of your issues with the male gender stings and burns, sizzling beneath your skin. It’s not even that true. You have had other male influences. You didn’t have these thoughts about them, and it’s not like you choose to have the occasional gentle thought about your boss. He is so handsome and the skin of his fingers so gentle and soft. You can’t help it. What an unfair and rude accusation from him. It’s not even entirely true! You didn’t think about kissing Peter Lukas. And, it was bad luck and poor timing that led to him interrupting you when you were immersed in such an intimate scene. 

You pull your injured hand towards your chest, nursing your wounds, “Take me for dinner before you try to unpack my issues with older men, why don’t you?”

He sighs, his shoulders sinking with the heavy exhale, “For someone that is deeply inexperienced, you sure do have flirtatious tendencies.”

Whatever. You got the message. No more inappropriate comments. Lips zipped. You’ll try to stop the occasional thought you suppose, maybe you should take up tapestry and needle work. You stuff your book unceremoniously into your bag, standing up, your chair sliding back with a painful screech as it scrapes against the floor. It doesn’t even your heights entirely, but it does make it so you feel less looked down upon by him. 

“Loud and clear, Elias, I’m leaving. See you Monday.” 

You can feel his eyes glaring holes into your head as you speed walk away. Your ankle twists for a moment, a birdlike squeak escaping you. He snorts, so catching your balance and trying to slink away gracefully are not working out for you. The heat under your skin makes your palms sweaty and gross. You need to get some air anyway. The walk home will do you good. 

He raises his voice, “I am fond of you! Don’t go wallow around being self-deprecating.” His voice falls on closed ears. Bitch. You aren’t working right now. He can’t tell you what to do. You were dismissed. 

So maybe sometimes, you have inappropriate thoughts accompanied by lingering gazes! It’s not the end of the world. Right?

Could be worse. You could be Martin. That boy is head over heels, and Jon is quite dismissive of him. Maybe, it’s not so different. God, that’s embarrassing. The cycle continues.

Next Chapter: Meant to Be

Master Post