#the only things remotely distracting me or allowing me to focus on other things or have a normal conversation with people or feel some joy

[linda-rose]

I say this during many moments that taylor decides to do things like announce or release an album or song or collab or play a weekend of shows or surprise attend a random award show in a killer outfit or whatever but it really is always at the absolute perfect time for me personally. She puts into the world whatever I need exactly when I need it most--something relatable, comforting, scary relevemt, healing, silly, or simply the only successful distraction from reality etc--and I will never stop being grateful for that.

I don't always realize it right away although sometimes I'm definitely like thank fucking god she's doing something in this moment or has this exact song to distract me or motivate me to get me out of bed or help heal me or whatever but I don't know something something we're so lucky to have her and her music always in our corner <3

[sherlocks-freebitch]

Obligatory fluffy New Year’s Eve fic (a bit late, I know)

read on Ao3

“Well,” Jon drawls. “ This is a pleasant way to spend New Year's Eve.”

Martin can’t disagree. He’s got a gorgeous man in his lap, a bellyful of whisky, and their pain levels have been manageable for the past few weeks, despite the cold. All in all, he’s spent far worse holiday seasons.

“Anything happening down there?” Jon grins down at him, happy and giddy and slightly blurred around the edges.

“No, I don’t think so,” Martin sighs. His libido had nipped down to the shops for a pack of cigarettes around the time that Jon had pressed a knife into his hand, and had made only the briefest of appearances since, before once more fleeing into the night. 

Come to think of it, the whisky probably hasn’t helped either.

“Not to worry.” Jon settles more comfortably across Martin’s lap. “As long as I can keep kissing you.”

“I don’t remember saying you could stop,” Martin grins. He's not remotely concerned; not so long as he has this man in his arms. They’ve been given a new life and that is more than Martin ever thought he’d have. The rest will return in time. He bloody hopes.

“Awful man. You’re very bossy, you know,” Jon says, and leans in, his breath skimming Martin’s neck and sending goosebumps everywhere.  “Even when we first met. Never doing what you were told, always arguing, never following directions.”

“You love it,” Martin says with a shiver. He tangles a hand in Jon’s hair and pulls him in again, their quiet reverie only intensified by the sound of distant revellers.

“I did. I do. And I love you. As stubborn and bossy as you are…”

“Don’t forget petty, vindictive, highly strung…”

“Kind, and brave, and brilliant and gorgeous too, of course, can’t forget that one,” Jon murmurs, his eyes liquor-bright. “Whoops!” He somehow loses his balance and Martin tightens a hand on his hip to steady him

“God, you’re such a lightweight,” Martin laughs. They had been at the pub earlier, in lieu of actually going out for new year’s, and the high spirits of the other patrons had infected them, made them switch from beer to whisky to keep basking in the goodwill of the world around them.

“Look who’s talking,” Jon says sternly, and frowns. He runs his hands slowly up Martin’s sides, his face a study in serious concentration.

“Doing alright there?” Martin says, amused and—as always—slightly thrilled by Jon’s singular focus.

“Oh yes,” Jon says and kisses Martin so thoroughly that he feels even more intoxicated by osmosis. The kisses get softer and slower, until Martin pulls back to see Jon’s eyelids drooping.

“We should get you to bed,” Martin says, breathless, more than a little drunk himself. 

Jon pouts.

“I want to keep kissing you though. And it’s not even midnight yet.”

“You can kiss me in bed, I promise. I’ll even let you fall asleep on top of me.”

Jon still looks dubious but allows himself to be steered to the kitchen where Martin makes him drink a glass of water, for all the good that will do.

“Tea?” Jon wheedles, and how God had created a man who drinks even more tea than him Martin will never know, but he obligingly lifts Jon onto the counter and sets to putting the kettle on.

Jon playing with his hair is terribly distracting, but Martin perseveres, grabbing the mugs and trying not to lean into Jon’s touch like a cat. He feels dreamy, like sleep is catching up with him too. They’ve slept so much these past months, wandering through endless dreamscapes, as though to make up for years of deprivation.

Things occasionally still feel fragile between them, like dough that’s been stretched too thin, but Martin has always believed that love is a choice as well as a feeling, and he and Jon are both too bloody-minded to let an apocalypse come between them.

The choice. That’s the point, isn’t it? Martin made his choice years ago. He couldn’t have chosen differently with a gun to his head and he’ll be making the same choice every day for the rest of his life.

Jon’s touch wanders up to the sensitive shell of Martin’s ear, making him giggle and slap Jon’s hand away.

“Stop that,” Martin says more sternly than he feels, “unless you want me to spill tea everywhere.”

“That would be terrible,” Jon says solemnly. “I’d have to watch you make it again.” He smiles enigmatically, eyes slightly narrowed and fixed on Martin.

“I knew it,” Martin sighs, defeated. “You have no intention of drinking this, do you? Just like— ” He stops himself before he can say before. Reminiscing doesn’t always end well and generally requires some warning.

“Probably not all of it,” Jon admits. “But I like that you make it for me. I like what it means.”

“Like you taking me out for Vietnamese food even though it doesn’t agree with you?” Martin laughs.

Jon looks pained. “Don’t remind me. I get cramps just walking past that place.” He hops off the counter and wraps his arms around Martin’s neck. “It was very tasty, though.”

“It was,” Martin says. “Drink your tea, lush.”

“In bed,” Jon agrees, yawning, and heads off for the bedroom. Martin follows, diverting briefly to the bathroom to retrieve the panadol they will both be needing the next day. When he returns, Jon is sipping his tea, frowning thoughtfully. Martin slides into bed and grabs his own mug.

“Do you remember, something you said, you know, during.” Jon waves a hand dismissively, dispatching months of apocalyptic trauma like he’s swatting a fly.

Martin remembers many things he said during. Some of them still make his skin crawl with shame, but Jon’s eyes have a soft glow in them, so whatever he said can’t have been too bad.

Still, they talk about during even less than about before, and usually with similar levels of caution.

“What did I say?” Martin asks, slinging an arm around Jon’s shoulders.

Jon scoots into Martin’s side, sighing happily and nearly spilling his tea in the process. “You said that you used to row?”

Martin bursts out laughing. “Oh yeah, a bit. Not competitively or anything though.”

“I think I’d like to see that,” Jon says.

“Your wish is my command.” Martin drops a kiss on Jon’s hair. “We might want to wait until it gets a bit warmer though.”

“Okay,” Jon says, burrowing further under the blankets. Martin hastily relieves him of his mug before disaster can strike. He deposits them carefully on the bedside table before sliding down to join Jon under the covers.

“In spring, if it’s warm enough,” Martin says contemplatively, winding a lock of Jon’s hair around his finger. “We’ll go out on the river. Can you swim?”

Jon snorts. “I’m from Bournemouth, of course I can swim. Although I’d rather you didn’t tip me in the river.”

“No promises,” Martin grins. “But I’ll do my best.”

Jon makes indistinct grumbling noises and crawls on top of Martin, clearly intending to pick up where they left off earlier. He tastes like an intoxicating mixture of tea and smoky peat, plus a few sneaky cigarettes that Martin had pretended not to notice.

The town suddenly lights up with distant cheers and fireworks. Jon lifts his head in surprise. “Did we miss it? I thought we still had a few minutes.”

“We didn’t miss it,” Martin says. “ We just started celebrating early.”

“Oh, very smooth,” Jon laughs. “That’s why you’re the poet.” Before Martin can respond, Jon kisses him again, soft and sweet. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year to you too,” Martin says, feeling a little flustered.”I love you, gorgeous man.”

“I love you too,” Jon says, before producing a jaw-cracking yawn. “Ugh.”

“Tired?”

“A bit,” Jon says, blinking owlishly. “I just want to enjoy this for a moment though. Seeing the new year in with you.”

“I know what you mean,” Martin says softly, wrapping his arms around Jon as tight as he can. He can’t believe how lucky they’ve been, despite everything that tried to rip them apart. Despite everyone they’ve lost.

 A new year, in a new world. The two of them, together. Martin squeezes Jon’s hand and gets a soft snuffling sound in return.

Jon, predictably, is fast asleep on top of Martin, his neck at what looks like a very uncomfortable angle. Martin considers moving him, but after a moment reaches out and steadies his head into a kinder position. It’s not sustainable, particularly if Martin doesn’t want to asphyxiate during the night, but for now he is just happy to hold on.

“Happy New Year!” Someone yells drunkenly on the street, and Jon stirs, mumbling. 

Happy New Year, mate, Martin thinks fondly. Thank you so much for having us.

Martin curls a hand around Jon’s head and rolls him carefully onto the mattress, smiling as Jon automatically snuggles into him.

He can’t wait to see what the new year will bring.

[caspianmaxson]

She waited three whole days, until her father was ready to finally have a conversation with her.

“ Father.” She crossed her right ankle behind her left, as he entered the room. It was easy to tell his mind had been already distracted and bothered with millions of other things, and details. She watched as he moved to pour himself a drink.

“ I take it, not good news?” She asked, watching as he swung back the first drink, and then poured himself another.

“ Your aunt..” he couldn’t manage to continue as he turned back to give Shay his attention. “ She hasn’t been here training you and the others for sometime has she?”

Shay nodded silently no “ Her pregnancy was her focus, she left some time ago, I thought you knew. Lord Thornfield, has been tending to our cares and needs. We have over a dozen students, he thought it would be best to remain and be responsible for us. Why, what has happened to my aunt?”

Caspian waived his hand as he moved to sit down “ Nothing that needs to concern you, a conversation for another time. You, and I however need to properly have this one. Why did you go against my wishes, and summon the lords and ladies here. Do you know how many times I have broken and bended the rules for you. Hell, I wasn’t even allowed to write to my father when I was in your shoes. You continue to push your limits.”

Shay, sighed deeply. “ Only, because you continue to place me in impossible situations. . The very moment my mother died, you sent me here. You arranged the strings to give me friends, but you’ve never allowed me the chance to get to know people on my own. You’ve asked me to stay guard and to always be ready, but then you grow angry with me, when I try to rally our forces behind your name, and to strengthen our family. You promised me to be your heir, and then suddenly you invite my half bastards siblings into a room, and expect me to just play along with it. You bullied my mother into giving you a son, but then you have your mistress raise him.”

She lowered her head in defense, as she watched as her Father leap out of his chair, at her last remark. His hand was raised, ready to smack her. “ Lady Katrina, is a lady of the court, a respectable woman who has admirable raised both of your brothers. You will show her the consideration she deserves, and will never speak an ill word of her, or anything remotely against your mother and I, relationship. Do I make myself clear?”

Shay, felt the cold string of words forcing out of her, as she whispered “ yes, father.” He had never raised his arm against her before. She watched as he moved to sit back down, pressing his drink against his cheek.

“ You, our the princess. I expect you to act accordingly, and someday, when you are old enough and find yourself in my shoes. You may come to see, that everything I have done. Is to protect you, and to give you a life well deserved. Some day you might make genuine friends of your own, that is if you are lucky enough to find one friend who genuinely cares for you. Everyone else, is business. You will need to learn about the people here weakness and strength, and you will learn how to govern a country. That is your sole responsibility here. All the other children, they understand, that when their parents pass on, they will inherit the responsibility of these cities and villages. You.. you have a chance to be queen, you have a chance to be a connection to other country and merge our countries together. But you can’t show the strength of our family, if every single time I command something; you turn and show your own strength is different than my own. As for your brothers, why are you so hell bent into thinking they serve as your opponent or enemy. Having a relationship with them, can be beneficial. If anything, I am sure they are scared of you, and scared of the strength and position you hold. It is better, to be friends, than enemies with them. You are only a few short years away from being seventeen, don’t waste them on these nonsense issues. I promise, when the time comes, and I feel you are ready, I will support you.”

Shay sighed deeply, and nodded. “ and Darius, will you deal with him? How can truly accept anything knowing, I have two older brothers who could easily win favor, and cast me out. Will you promise me, that Philip will be taken care of, and allow me the chance to make you proud. I will not interfere with the policies or corruption that goes on in the west. But give me the credit to have my own mind and opinions, even if it’s against your own ?”

Caspian stood again, this time placing a hand on Shay shoulder “ Darius, is a chapter of my past, that will remain what he is, my past.Philip will always be taken care of, that I can assure you, as for your strong will and opinions.” He sighed in humor “ That, I will learn how to manage and deal with it, so long as you never publicly go against me again.”

He smiled looking down at Shay, she reminded him so much of his sisters. She was a combination of all three of them. Bold, like Alexandria. Strong like Harper, and loyal like Teagan.

[whizdomclub]

Why a Dedicated Desk is Your Productivity Powerhouse?

In today's fast-paced world, where remote work and freelancing are becoming the norm, having a dedicated desk may seem like a thing of the past. However, if you are serious about maximizing your productivity and achieving your goals, a dedicated desk is your ultimate powerhouse. Not convinced? Let me give you some compelling reasons why a dedicated desk is a game-changer for your productivity.

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First and foremost, a dedicated desk provides a sense of structure and routine to your workday. When you have a designated workspace, it helps your mind to switch into work mode and be more focused. In contrast, working from your bed or couch may give you a relaxed vibe, but it can also make you feel lethargic and less productive. With a dedicated desk, you establish a clear boundary between work and personal space, which is crucial for maintaining a healthy work-life balance.

Dedicated Desk Offers a Distraction-free Environment

A dedicated desk offers a distraction-free environment. When you work from home or a coffee shop, you are surrounded by numerous distractions, be it household chores, family members, or the background noise of a bustling cafe. These distractions can hamper your concentration and make you lose valuable time. On the other hand, a dedicated desk in a professional setting, such as a co-working space, provides a quiet and conducive environment where you can focus on your work without any interruptions.

Dedicated Desk Can Enhance Your Creativity and Ignite Inspiration

Another advantage of a dedicated desk is that it can boost your creativity and inspiration. When you have a designated workspace, you can personalize it with things that inspire you, such as motivational quotes, pictures, or plants. These elements can help you stay motivated and energized throughout the day. Additionally, being surrounded by like-minded individuals in a co-working space can also spark new ideas and collaborations, leading to increased productivity.

Now, let's talk about the practical benefits of a dedicated desk.

It saves you from the hassle of setting up and packing your workspace every day. Imagine not having to clear your dining table or kitchen counter before starting work, and not having to pack up your laptop and documents at the end of the day. With a dedicated desk, you have a designated space for all your work-related items, making it easier for you to stay organized.

Furthermore, a dedicated desk in a co-working space comes with additional amenities that can boost your productivity. For instance, many co-working spaces offer meeting rooms on rent in Delhi, which you can use for client meetings or team collaborations. This eliminates the need to book a separate venue for meetings, saving you time and money.

You can also avail yourself of other facilities such as high-speed internet, printing services, and access to a pantry, allowing you to focus solely on your work without any distractions.

A dedicated desk also offers a sense of community and networking opportunities. Working from home or a coffee shop can be isolating, and you may miss out on valuable interactions with other professionals. In a co-working space, you are surrounded by a diverse community of individuals from different industries, backgrounds, and skill sets. This not only expands your professional network but also provides opportunities for collaboration and knowledge sharing. Who knows, you may even find your next business partner or client in a co-working space!

Many people assume that having a dedicated desk in a co-working space would be expensive. However, with the rise of shared workspaces, there are various options available to suit different budgets. Moreover, when you consider the added benefits and convenience, the cost of a dedicated desk becomes a wise investment in your productivity and professional growth.

A dedicated desk in a co-working space can also provide a sense of work-life balance. When you work from home, it can be challenging to maintain a boundary between work and personal life, leading to burnout and stress. However, with a dedicated desk, you have a defined work area, and once you leave the space, you can switch off from work and focus on your personal life. This can lead to a more fulfilling and balanced lifestyle, ultimately contributing to your overall well-being and productivity.

Final Words

Overall, a dedicated desk is not just a mere workspace; it is a productivity powerhouse. It offers structure, focus, creativity, and practical benefits that can help you achieve your professional goals. So, if you want to take your productivity to the next level, consider getting a dedicated desk in a co-working space or a private cabin in Gurgaon. Trust me; you won't regret it!

SOURCE

[mara-xx217]

Pokes head

May I request Michael being a possessive daddy and fighting a killer who hurt his girlfriend ? It can be anyway you like 💙

Why of course you can~ This isn’t based in Dbd, but the normal world. Hope you don’t mind!

Possessive, Protective Mikey

You were like some sort of disease to Michael. Or, perhaps, a parasite was a better descriptor of how you affected him. You wormed your way into him, deep into his chest, right beside his cold, soulless heart. You made him… feel, regardless of what that actually meant, it was beyond unacceptable in his eyes. That warm, painful throbbing in his chest was more than distracting, it was nauseating, disturbing. Terrifying… In a sick, twisted, wrong way, you terrified the Shape of Haddonfield. Michael fucking Myers was absolutely terrified of a small, defenseless creature that was completely helpless against the evil and cruelty he wielded against the world. He should kill you a hundred thousand times over for this transgression! But… it wouldn’t make him feel any better. He only… feels more empty every time your cheeks are stained with tears. Cold. Dead. Michael would feel dead without you…

This isn’t the first time he’s caught someone hurting you. It’s happened many, many times over, and his reaction has ranged from blinded rage to searing hatred. Not just for the one harming you, but towards you, yourself. It was that lack of control that drove Michael insane. He couldn’t watch you 24/7, couldn’t always follow you around or know where you were at any given moment… It drove him fucking crazy, and he took that frustration out on not just the asshole unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with you, but onto you, as well.

But, even that was quickly losing its luster to him. Michael had thought that hurting you would bring him some sort of fulfillment, like it has always done in the past when he had hurt others. It never has, though. Sure, he’s lied to himself, trying desperately to convince himself that seeing you all small, all scared and teary-eyed brought him a measure of enjoyment, to have your blood on his hands, to have you groveling in terror before him- but it didn’t. It- He- Michael felt… not good, when that happened. You made him… stop to consider how his actions would affect you, and he hated that.

Michael despises that you’re a magnet for trouble. That you just can’t seem to stay the hell away from people that want to do you harm. Sure, he doesn’t mind killing them. Quite the opposite, in fact, he rather enjoys seeing them covered in their own blood, begging for their pathetic lives before he mercilessly snuffs them out. No, Michael hates that you get hurt in the first place. The only one that should ever have the right to put their hands on you was him! Him, and him alone. Anyone else would be destroyed.

Some wannabe serial killer punk had set his eyes on you. Luckily for you, Michael knew better than to leave you to your own devices, anymore. He caught the little bastard scoping out your home before you had any idea of the danger you were in. He’d make sure that, this time, he’d be in complete control of the situation. You won’t be hurt, but that idiot thinking that he can do as he pleases? He’s going to regret the day he was born…

Sitting in your kitchen, you drank what must be your fifth coffee of the night. Strange things were happening, and it left you unable and unwilling to sleep at night. Rustling outside your windows, the sound of someone possibly jimmying your doors and windows, looking for a possible way in… Muddy footprints on your porch and small, dead animals left on your door mat… It was becoming too much. You’re… pretty sure it wasn’t Michael. He did love to torment you, but this wasn't really his thing. He was much more… direct, with his approach to you. This… this was someone else…

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you rub your eyes, feeling them water involuntarily from how dry they were. Anxiously, you tap your fingers on the top of the counter, before sighing heavily and grabbing your coffee mug. You decided to make your way to the living room, thinking that some TV would help calm your nerves and get your mind off of things. Fuck, I’m exhausted… You thought bitterly as you crashed onto the couch, nearly spilling lukewarm coffee all over yourself.

Picking up the remote, you absentmindedly flipped through channels, not really wanting to watch anything. It was just something else to focus on, rather than the impending sense of dread that was washing over you. This feeling was one that you were well acquainted with: the feeling of being watched. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your palms were slick with sweat. Slowly, you sit up, clumsily placing your mug on the table in front of you. The hairs on your entire body stood on end. Something’s not right here…

As you begin to rise off the couch, a firm hand pushes you back down into a sitting position. Your heart jumped up into your throat. You’re very familiar with Michael’s hands, and the one still gripping your shoulder was much, much smaller than his… Short, shaky breaths escaped through your clenched teeth. Fuck..! Oh shit- Oh my God no no no-! You don’t dare to move, only stare straight ahead at nothing as your mind runs wild with possibilities. Who the hell is it?! How did they get in?! Why me?! Where the fuck is Michael when I fucking need him?!?

The intruder sucks in a deep breath, as though he’s about to say something, but instead yelps in surprise as he’s ripped away from you suddenly and violently. You gasp, shooting up and scrambling across the room, back peddling into an opposing corner. Curling in on yourself, you crumple onto the floor, watching the brutality unfolding before you through the cracks of your fingers.

Michael had thrown the intruder back, sending him crashing into a mostly bare bookshelf, breaking most of the shelves along with it. You cringe and jump, feeling your insides twist and revolt against you. Michael drops to the floor, straddling the winded, smaller man as he desperately tries to fight back. Vainly. It was laughable, really. The idiot didn’t stand a chance against the human incarnation of evil, itself.

Michael briefly debated on playing with his food. There was something about seeing them crawl and beg that really set him off, but when he glanced at you over his shoulder, in the fetal position and hyperventilating, he actually decided against it. It was getting under his skin seeing you like this, and the quicker this is… inconvenience is dealt with, the quicker things will be back to normal. Well, to Michael’s fucked up definition of the word “normal”, that is.

With a quick stab to the back of his neck, the intruder was killed. Normally, Michael would have painted the walls with this creep’s blood, but he decided that it would be too much of a pain in the ass to clean up. With a flick of his wrist, Michael twists and pulls out the blade, wiping the excess blood onto the back of his victim’s shirt. He looks back over to you, and sees you stiffen. His… Huh. His chest actually hurts…

With a heavy sigh, he stands, stepping over the dead body as he makes his way over to you. A major part of you was beyond terrified. Is he gonna hurt me..? Oh- Oh God..! I’m gonna- I’m- I’m gonna..! You were trembling, shaking so hard that your teeth were actually chattering audibly. Michael’s eye twitched. He was conflicted: one part of him loved that you were this scared of him, as you should be, but the other… the other hated it. He- Well, he wanted… something, but he just didn’t know what. Fingers twitching, he reached out to you, struggling to ignore how you froze as he slowly approached you.

You really thought that he was going to grab you by the hair and drag you off to the bedroom, so when his fingertips just barely brushed the top of your head, moving the hair from your face, you were, well… at a bit of a loss. Michael has never, ever been that gentle while touching you. Ever. You raise your head slightly, just enough so that you could see him. He still had that damn mask on, of course, and his body language hardly betrayed what he was thinking or feeling, but- You couldn’t deny that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

He slowly crouches in front of you, treating you as though you're some kind of animal that will either bolt at the slightest movement or go for his jugular, or something like that. You don’t move or speak, unsure of what he was doing. When he placed his hand where that stalker touched you, gently- carefully squeezing your shoulder as though you were made of glass, you… you relaxed.

You could tell that he was struggling to be gentle, with how his fingers twitched uncontrollably and the pressure of his fingertips varied. You looked up to him, then down at his chest as an odd warmth spread through your cheeks. Michael was extremely possessive over you. He hated it when you interacted with anyone else, especially other men. But, right now, even though another man had touched you, he wasn’t flying off the handle like he usually did. He was still extraordinarily pissed off that he had given the bastard just enough time to physically touch you, but it was remedied.

He was fucking dead, and you were still here. You were his and his alone. That wasn’t called into question. There was no dispute. Michael Myers is the only person that is ever allowed to touch you. You’ve come to accept this, and slowly but surely, you’re even beginning to enjoy his touch. As sick and messed up as it was, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, despite the fact that he made your life a living hell. If anything, you knew that no one would hurt you ever again. No one, except for him.

[mieohmy]

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝟣𝟢𝟣 | 𝖫𝖾𝖾 𝖩𝖾𝗇𝗈

PAIRING: lee jeno x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, humor, comfort, established relationship au, college au,  this rly is just a self indulgent fic kjasdfk

WC: 2.1k

NOTES: slight argument/fighting ?? , cursing

SUMMARY: jeno wants your attention, your comforting presence, your love- he simply wants you.

for the bday boy that i treasure sm! happy birthday to puppy jeno <333

ღ

The phone next to you lies untouched, and practically has been for days- or has it been a week already? I mean, it wasn’t your fault that upcoming finals had been taking you to the depths of hell, and you had no choice but to lock yourself at home to study for a week on end. 

Which brings you to day 7? 8? of being holed up in your room all day, memorizing a bazillion tiny printed words and trying to cram as much information as possible in that overworked brain of yours. Getting about 4-5 hours of sleep a day, you couldn’t remember anymore- or even care to remember. Not to mention the added stress that came along with being any normal college student. Wasn’t life just wonderful?

You feel bad for everyone that has tried to contact you over this stressful period in your life (since you completely turned your phone off to eliminate all distractions), but the urge to stop studying completely and just check up on the real world and all its happenings grows stronger. You breathe in -out, constantly chanting ‘self-control’ over and over again in your head. Then your eyes slowly open, and you slap yourself one last time as if to say ‘get it together' before diving back into the books.

Just two more days. Two more days and you can finish and not have to stress about finals until results come out. 

At this point, you were surviving off of coffee, tea, random stolen snacks that your boyfriend would bring over from his dorm. 

Damn, when’s the last time you had a proper meal? Monday?

And then you frown. What day even is it today? You glance at your calendar and- 

Goodness grief, it’s Sunday already. 

You almost have a midlife crisis over wasting basically a week doing nothing but sitting at your desk and looking at words, but then again at this point- you’re just over it and want to be done as soon as possible. 

But soon, a weird feeling arises after you recall today’s date- like you were forgetting something. You place a hand over your forehead. Was there something important today? 

And as if the universe read your mind, the doorbell rings.

A giant wave of confusion washes over you. Was someone supposed to come over today?

-and you just completely wiped it from your mind?

You’re still running through your memories as you walk to the door. No, it's not Chae since she has finals too...

Opening it, you’re not at all expecting who was behind it. 

“Jeno-?”

He blinks back at your wide eyes, expression turning concerned, and you rub your temples in exasperation and defeat. 

“Oh, did we have a date today or something? I’m so sorry- I totally forgot.”

His eyebrows furrow. “No, I was just supposed to come over to hang out with you....”

“It’s been so long since we last talked, baby. You haven’t responded to any of my texts. What’s going on?” He promptly adds, staring intently at you. 

You let out a sigh, and jeno notices your tense shoulders and dark under-eye circles. “I thought you knew. Finals are coming up so I’ve been stuck at home cramming for about a week now actually.” 

His frown deepens. “I did know. And still, y/n..” he says in a warning tone. 

You know what his voice implies, you’ve heard it plenty of times at this point, but right now you don’t have to energy to listen to his nagging. “ I know, I know. Just- come in, I guess.....”

To be completely honest, you wanted to send jeno back home- there was still a lot more information left to cover and you obviously weren’t in your best condition, but he was the one who actually remembered your ‘date’ and drove to your place, so you would feel even worse making him go all the way back to his dorm. 

Jeno easily follows you in, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back any comments while examining your place even though barely anything has changed since he last visited- mostly because there was nothing to change when you were in your room all day. 

You walk to the kitchen, getting your boyfriend some water while yawning. Meanwhile, your mind is drifting away, thinking about what topics are left that you have to go over later. “What are we even doing today?” 

Jeno plops on your couch, arms behind his head. “I don’t know. A movie?”

You hide your grimace, immediately thinking of how much time would be wasted watching one, or possibly even more if jeno was feeling it. In the one to two hours of a movie, you could be done with chapter two and three-

“Y/n??”

Your head snaps up. “Yes?”

“Are you gonna come over here or just stand there in the kitchen all day?” he teases.

You shake your head to clear the fog and join jeno on the couch. Scrolling through the options, you automatically snuggle up next to him, eyes blearily watching the moving tv screen. 

He decides on this one animated film, and you’re too drained to pay attention so you simply nod and let the movie begin. But even though you try your best to focus on the storyline and what’s currently going on, your mind keeps wandering off to other, more boring things- your studies, obviously. 

The number of chapters you covered, the slight of chapters you have left, how long you would have to stay up to finish going through your planned amount of information  -all the stressful thoughts swirling in your head, and it only exhausts you more. 

You let out a sigh, and jeno turns to you. “Are you okay? You’ve been sighing nonstop since we started the movie.” 

You clear your throat, biting back a yawn. “Oh- yeah, sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”

Your boyfriend stiffens but doesn’t say anything, attention returning to the flashing screen in front of him. 

You did try. You really did. But your eyelids keep drifting shut and your head keeps slowly lolling forward and snapping back up -it’s not until your forehead accidentally knocks against jeno’s chest that he finally speaks up again. 

“Y/n. You need to take a break and get some sleep. Now.” His tone is sharp and commanding. 

You snap your eyes back open, vision blurry. “No- it’s fine. I’m good, let’s keep watching.” 

The immediate switch in the air is scary, jeno swiftly reaching for the remote and pausing the movie to look at you dead straight in the eyes before setting it back down with a loud, clattering noise. “You need to rest. I can tell from how tired you look, and I know you’ve been studying for so long, so why is it that hard to just relax for a little?” 

You groan, distress breaking through. “I can’t, okay? You already understand how stressful school is and how important my upcoming tests are. I know you’re just trying to be kind and thoughtful but-“ 

“But what?” He cuts you off, the frustration he’s been hiding for a while finally revealing itself. “Taking a rest from burning your brain out isn’t going to kill you, y/n.”

Your hands at your side clench and unclench, a wave of emotions overcoming you. “I know that. But I can’t afford to have a break now.” Everything suddenly feels overwhelming, and your voice comes out strained and uncontrolled. 

“I’m almost there, jeno. It’s so close, and if I stop now, I’ll feel like a failure.”

He laughs a short and echoing bark. “How do you think I feel? I was trying to brush everything aside and act like it was all fine, but it’s certainly not when you’re like this.”

You falter. 

Jeno gets up, making direct eye contact with you even though his body is trembling and his voice is shaky. 

“I spent the past week just lying in bed and worrying about you- if you were eating okay and getting enough sleep. I was constantly texting you reminders to take care of yourself, only to find out from your friend that you turned your phone completely off.  Do you know how shitty of a person I was feeling? I didn’t want to be a distraction to you because I know how much you care about your grades, but it’s killing me, y/n. I want to be there for you, but instead, I end up feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world.” 

He shudders before continuing,

“And then I come here, brushing off all my worries since I was super excited to finally be with you after so long, and then I have to see you in such a bad condition. Barely taking care of yourself, barely even surviving on your own just so you can pass your exams that I know you’ll already do well on no matter what. As your boyfriend who wants to help and be here for you, do you know how much my heart hurts?”  

He finishes, but not before wiping away the frustrated tears that appeared in his angry rant.

It takes one beat -two beats, before you immediately spring up, rushing towards jeno and throwing your arms around him. 

He accepts it, burying his face into your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. 

The guilt courses through your body, and you understand. The consequences of your actions hit you, hard, and you know you deserve it all. Jeno just wants to know that you’re here. You’re here with him.

“I’m really sorry,” you murmur into his hair, “I’m really, really sorry, jeno.” 

You hate the fact that you can still feel the slight wetness of his tears soaking through your-technically his- shirt. You pull back, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he knows you’re being genuine.

“I promise to pay more attention to myself, and I promise I won’t ever let it happen again. I won’t shut you out anymore... and you can come over to take care of me whenever you want, okay?”

Jeno slowly nods, and you softly wipe away the corners of his red eyes of any wetness.

He pulls you closer to him again, inhaling your scent one more time, and you finally let yourself go. 

After about a minute of just enjoying each other’s warm embrace - one that you feel like you haven’t felt in so long- you allow yourself to smile and pull back just enough to place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Was my baby just lonely and missed me too much?” you sing in a soft voice. He lets out a disgruntled noise in response, shaking his head against your body. 

But you both know what the answer is.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” You tug his arm easily to your room, putting off your studies, at least for today.

“You’re really gonna take a break this time?” Jeno asks, eyeing you carefully. 

You grin. “Yes? Besides, I know you’re always down for cuddles.” 

You drag him to the bed, taking his arms and wrapping them around your body as exhaustion quickly fills you. 

You fight yourself to stay awake as long as you can to enjoy jeno’s presence, but he notices and hugs you even closer if possible, whispering softly, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And before you finally drift off, you sleepily murmur, “I love you, jeno. Like, a lot.” 

Even after you fall asleep in his embrace, he stares down at you, softly kissing your forehead.

I love you too. 

bonus bc i adore jeno too much :

“Jeno- for the last time, you’re not a bad boyfriend.”

“I know.... but-“

You shut him up with a quick kiss.

“You’re the sweetest.”

Another kiss.

“Funniest.”

Peck.

“Handsomest.” 

His ever so growing smile freezes. Jeno looks at you, a surprisingly solemn look on his face. 

You raise an eyebrow, confused. 

“......even more than Nam joo hyuk?”

Ah. He had to go for the favorite actor. 

You swallow, battling an intense internal war before begrudgingly nodding. “Okayyy...fine. You are.”  

He crosses his arms. “I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, whining. “I already said it!”

Jeno shakes his head firmly. “Say the whole thing.”

You take a deep breath in, internally apologizing to your beloved actor. “......you, lee -verymuchanannoyingbaby- jeno, are more handsome than Nam joo hyuk.” Your sentence is finished swiftly in one breath, words slurring together. It actually pains you to say that. But it’s good enough for your boyfriend. 

Jeno delights in the squeal you let out when he picks you up in his arms to spin you around. 

“Fuck yeah- take that, nam joo hyuk!”

ღ

a/n: anyways im going to go hide away and cry over jeno now ^^

[havin-a-wee]

hey! I am obsessed with ur writing and I was wondering if you could pretty please do an imagine where you are best friends with Harry and you are REALLY horny and are cuddling with him and you get wet n stuff through your panties and he notices and offers to help? thank you SO MUCH ily🥰

Postitions

warnings: oral (female receiving)

word count: 2.5k

hi! sorry this took so long but i’m rlly proud of how it came out so i hope you like it !

“Harry get in here!” 

Your best friend popped his head in the door to your bedroom with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“What are you smiling about?” Harry only ever made that kind of face when he was up to something, and you weren’t in the mood to deal with one of his ‘surprises’ tonight. 

Instead of answering your question, he just stepped fully in the door, his hand gripped a tub of ice cream in your favorite flavor. You shot up from laying down and returned his dopey smile, your body filled with excitement. 

“I forgot I had brought this in the car.” he shrugged his shoulders with the ice cream still in his palm as he made his way to the bed. 

“Did yo-” Before you could finish your sentence, he held up two silver spoons with his other hand and you grabbed onto one of them quickly, eager to dig into your favorite treat. You pull open the plastic surrounding the cap with a satisfying zip and within a few moments your mouth has enveloped your spoon and the ice cream is melting in your mouth.

The two of you sit on the bed and eat the ice cream quietly for a minute, but once you have savored those first few spoonfuls you speak up. “So what movie are we watching?”

“I was thinking Call Me By Your Name because you said yesterday that you haven’t seen it yet,” Harry responds. You nod with the spoon sticking out of your mouth which made Harry giggle. He turns his attention to your nightstand and he grabs the small black remote and points it towards the large tv that is mounted on your wall. 

He clicks around a bit until he gets to Hulu, and from there he searches up the movie. Without saying a word, you both subconsciously shift into your favorite movie-watching position, which is when you lie down and Harry places his head between your thighs.

Yes, it is a more couple-y type of position, but it’s comfortable for both of you, and it allows for a good view of the tv. 

The first half of the movie went smoothly, and you found yourself quite invested in the story that was playing out on the screen. It was a cute love story between guys, but it had a bit of angstiness that kept you on your toes.

It was a little over halfway through when the scene arrived. At first there was a hand grabbing a peach off of a tree, which was a bit odd and out of place. But the pieces came together when the camera panned to Elio laying on his bed, and then to his hands creating a crater within the peach.

Now usually when a steamy scene began in the movies you watched with Harry, you contained yourself and we able to watch it without getting turned on. But there was something about the sensuality of the scene that sent a tingling down your spine and straight to your core.

It wasn’t until now that your brain registered that Harry’s head was placed right on the place that was currently warming up with your arousal. 

Even when the scene was over, you could feel your panties getting wetter and wetter. You were frozen in place, petrified due to the fact that Harry might be able to feel the difference in temperature. But your worries about Harry transferred to the aroused part of your brain, and you couldn’t help but to imagine him in the same scene that got you so worked up.

Even though he was your best friend, you still found him incredibly attractive. I mean, how could you not? But you realized about a year ago that it didn’t stop at simple attraction. You love Harry, as more than a friend, and that’s what makes this whole thing all the scarier.

You continued watching the movie but after a few more minutes your clit began to throb. It was at this point that you began debating going to the bathroom in your head, but you knew that there was no way you could be that quick. So, you made the tough decision to stick it out and pray that Harry doesn’t move his head.

Your prayers were not answered.

Your focus had been completely diverted from the movie and you were staring at a spot on the wall in a feeble attempt to distract yourself. But it was then that Harry adjusted his head from where it was laying between your legs. 

Almost as if on purpose, the back of his head pressed against your swollen button when he shifted, and despite your best efforts, a soft moan escaped your throat. 

You squeezed your eyes shut right after it happened, holding onto the small hope that he didn’t hear it. But when the weight of his head disappeared from where it was placed you knew that he did hear it. You opened your eyes slowly, to see him looking at you with a sly grin on his face. He had turned around fully to face you and was sitting on his knees, kind of like he was excited or anticipating something.

Before you could speak, he opened his lips that were still holding a bright grin and spoke.

“You okay?” You knew that he knew, and he was just testing the waters to see what reaction would make you the most comfortable. That was one of the many things you love about him, he always makes sure your comfortable.

“I’m really sorry I just-” Once again, he cut you off.

“S’fine Y/N, I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” His grin faded to a sympathetic smile as you lifted your head to meet your eyes with his. The two of you sat there in silence for a few seconds, before he spoke up again.

“Do you want some help?” You eyes shot up from where you were staring and you looked at him with wide eyes. His eyes went wide too and you could tell that he was scared of your reaction. “I-I mean only if you want to, if you don’t I can just lea-”

This time it was you who cut him off. “Harry..” Your voice was quiet, and you sighed his name, but it wasn’t in negative way. 

You placed your hands in front of you and pushed yourself up so your face was inches away from his. “Will you kiss me?” 

He nodded furiously and then his lips met yours. He tasted just like you had imagined, sweet and the best thing you had ever tasted. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you welcomed it openly and your lips mashed together sloppily. You mewled into his mouth as you felt his soft lips suck on yours. The kiss was filled with passion and excitement, and you could tell that you weren’t the only one who had been waiting for this for a long, long time.

He pushed you back while continuing to kiss you, laying you flat on the bed as he placed his body atop yours, propped up by his toned arms. He took the opportunity to begin sucking on your jaw, moving down to your neck. He sucked at bit vigorously at your soft skin and you moaned once again, but this time harder and with more neediness. 

Instinctively, your hands made their way down to his belt buckle, but his hand grabbed yours to stop you. Much to your dismay, he stopped his assault on your neck and looked into your eyes.

“None of that, m’takin care of you.” 

You bit your lip and nodded at his words. You had always found his voice sexy and hearing him say that to you caused you to squeeze your legs to try and get some kind of friction. 

He pecked your lips once more before averting his attention to the hem of your pajama top. He looked up at you for approval and you nodded, lifting up your arms as he peeled the garment away from your aching body. 

You weren’t wearing a bra, which Harry clearly had zero problems with, his head diving down as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, the other one tracing down your stomach. You jolted at the sudden sensation, your body quivering under his touch. 

He detached from your breast and worked at your bottoms, pulling off the flimsy shorts that covered the place that he really wanted to see. He latched two fingers onto the hem of your panties and looked up at you. You nodded once again, but he didn’t pull your panties down.

“Need to here y’say it Y/N. Need to hear y’tell me what y’want me to do to you”

“Please Harry,” you gasped. “Please take my panties off.”

Once again, he did not, but instead smirked at you as he watched you wriggle underneath him.

“What d’ya want me t’do when I take em off pet? Y’want my mouth on you? Y’want me to lick your pretty little cunt til’ you’re begging me to stop?”

“Yes, yes please!” He chuckled lightly before pulling your panties off in one quick motion. Instead of going right to what he desired, he began by sponging kisses from your collarbone down to your stomach until his head was placed right above your core. He took a second to admire your glistening heat and you watched his eyes filled with lust.

He lowered his head and placed his big hands on your thighs, lifting them up and over his shoulder so he has the best angle possible. All of a sudden you felt his tongue licking a stripe over your core. He then made small swipes at your throbbing clit, making you buck up onto his tounge. He moaned against you and you could feel the vibration against your core as he made work on your clit.

He sucked and bit on the sensitive nub, and you were putty in his hands. His mouth was magic, and you were falling apart under his touch. All of the pent-up sexual frustration he had caused you over the years melted away and all that you were thinking about was how good he was making you feel.

“Harry..fuck-oh my god” You stumbled on your words as your mind could only focus on the man who had his head between your legs. You felt him groan again you again and you shuddered at the feeling. The fact that he was enjoying this just as much as you was turning you on even more; if that was possible. 

You snaked your hands through the messy curls atop his head. He sucked harshly on your clit and you gripped onto his hair with such force that you were scared you were hurting him, but the moan he responded with calmed your nerves.

The sight of his head between your legs as he pleasured you was something you would never forget, and you also hoped that this wouldn’t be the last time you would get to see it. His tongue moved down to your folds and he began licking inside of you. You rolled your hips against his face while he licked your most sensitive area, and you could feel his hot breath hitting you clit which intensified the pleasure.

“So, so good” 

You could feel his lips curl into a smile against you as he buried himself in you. You maintained the tight grip on his curls, pulling harshly when did something that made you feel extra good.

His mouth moved back to your clit and he continued what he had been doing before, sucking and biting at it like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Your shouts of his name only encouraged him, making him go harder and faster every time. 

The knot in your stomach was tight, and it was a feeling that you knew, but hadn’t felt in quite a while. “Harry- I’m gonna-” you whispered shakily.

He pulled his mouth an inch away from your sopping cunt and mumbled hungrily. “C’mon baby, come on my tounge. I wanna taste you.” He dove back in and his tongue swiped across your walls. 

The pad of his thumb found its way to your aching clit and he rubbed it in quick circles while his tongue dipped inside of you once again.

The knot in your stomach burst and you arched your back as you reached your climax on Harry’s mouth. You saw star as he worked you down from your high, slowing his movements but not stopping. As soon as he removed his mouth from you your knees buckled and you collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily and trying to process what just happened.

You heard him laugh and you watched him slip your thighs off of his shoulders and come lay next to you. You rolled onto your side so you could face him, looking at his face for the first time since he found a place between your thighs.

His lips were glistening from your juices, and he smiled at you while he licked them up from around his mouth. The two of you lay on your sides staring at each other for a bit, but then it hit you.

“Wait Harry, I didn’t take care of you”

“S’fine love, I just wanted to make you feel good.”

It was almost bittersweet because you knew that he had to like you back in some regard, but you didn’t know if it was only sexual, or he wanted a romantic relationship like you did. 

You sat up, lost in your own thoughts in anxieties. He sat up quickly as well, and his face was riddled with concern.

“What’s wrong?” You could hear the fear in his voice, but you were scared because you couldn’t figure out why he was scared. 

“I just- what does this mean?”

Harry sighed and looked down at his lap, then looked back up at you. “I really like you Y/N. Like more than a friend. And I d’nknow if you feel the same, but judging by what y’just let me do, I think the feeling is mutual.” He smiled at the end, and you smiled right back.

“The feeling is mutual.” That was all you said before you leaned into him and kissed him again. This kiss was softer, more loving and affectionate than the kiss you had previously shared. He placed you on his lap, but it wasn’t sexual in nature. It was more of a ‘you’re all mine’ kind of gesture. 

He broke the kiss and the two of you looked down at each other with your smiles still bright and full. “Y’know I moved my head on purpose. I could feel you heated up.” His cheery smiled had turned into a cheeky grin as a blush color spread across your cheeks. You playfully slapped him in the shoulder and you both burst out into laughter. As your laughter subsided you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Since you started working in the castle, you’ve experienced many things.

You’ve seen other maids get slashed for nothing. You’ve seen the daughters lick a sickle covered in blood, break into a swarm of insects and then materialize someplace else. You’ve heard of the tormented wailing they cause in the dungeons.

They're things that you thought would haunt you, day and night, until you couldn’t function properly anymore. And yet. You found you could somehow still focus on your work despite it all.

How ironic is it that, in the end, it is a kiss that threatens to break your mind?

You used to think only of your survival before it, of studying routes for a potential escape. Now you can hardly focus on polishing a single goblet without getting distracted. You see her everywhere you turn, even when she’s not there. When you close your eyes at night, you can still feel her sigh against your lips.

It’s driving you crazy. She’s driving you to madness.

You don’t understand it. Any of it. It doesn’t make sense for your mind to be so stuck on someone you fear. Not unless a screw has gotten severely loose in your own head. A very possible scenario and one you don’t want to entertain.

The only semi logical explanation you’ve come up with –actually, the only one that lets you sleep at night– is that you’re subconsciously trying to humanize Cassandra. To see her as something you want rather than someone you despise, turn a negative into a positive, terror into desire. To make your life, what has become of it anyway, more bearable for you.

Yeah. You go with that.

At dinner, you keep your eyes down unless Lady Dimitrescu calls for more wine, but you can feel Cassandra’s piercing gaze on you almost like a physical touch. For two nights in a row you hear her graceful steps approach while you’re doing the dishes, but someone always calls for her before she reaches remotely near you.

And you’re glad for that.

Right?

On the third evening, while you’re tiredly walking back to your room after eight long hours of work, an arm shoots out of the shadows, grabs your wrist and pulls you off your path.

You nearly shout, but something soft, cold and unyielding covers your mouth. Your heart is giving painful kicks in your chest, your eyes are wide, frantically trying to adjust to the dark chamber. You start to calm only when you smell her perfume, but perhaps you shouldn’t.

“Relax, it’s me.” she says, like that's assuring.

You blink several times; your sight adjusts just enough to make out her hooded outline, thanks to the faint moonlight dispersing into the room from behind the nearest closed curtain.

Cassandra removes her hand from your lips once she’s sure you won’t scream.

“Hi.” she greets with what you guess is a smile.

It would perhaps be slightly endearing if she wasn’t your captor, hadn’t just startled you half to death and wasn’t dressed like the grim reaper in the pitch-black.

“H-hi.” you say back. It takes a ton of willpower not to curl in on yourself. You’re not even sure you succeed.

“Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.” she teases, poking your shoulder. You want to tell her it’s mostly her that scares the shit out of you, but you’re not that courageous nor that stupid. “I thought you a little braver than that.”

Your lips fall open. “Why?” you speak before you think and there’s probably something in your expression that makes her giggle.

Cassandra zooms to the window and pushes the curtain to the side, slightly. “Better now, my scaredy-cat?”

“Yes, thank you.” you reply, trying hard to bypass the possessiveness in her remark and what it does to your stomach.

“Good because you need to stop shaking. I don’t have much time.” Cassandra huffs. Before you can even think to say anything, her gloved fingers tug on your shirt, a tad rough, then shove you into an armchair.

You yelp, the air momentarily knocked out of your lungs, but then her gentle weight settles into your lap and you freeze. A big part of your brain shuts down on the spot. Cassandra leans close and the angle allows the moonlight to caresses her face underneath the shadows of her hood. Its pale grace makes her look softer than usual, the gold of her eyes glowing like twin embers….

“You and I have things to discuss away from prying ears.” A thumb and pointer trap your chin in place. You're all too aware of the fact a squeeze from her is what it takes for you to never be able to talk again.

“Do you know how I wanted to get you alone like this, all to myself?” she husks, lightly biting the shell of your ear. The sting gets your blood rushing faster in your system but you aren’t cut. Yet. “Did you think about me?”

Cassandra, slow and methodical, moves further in. For a moment you think she’s going to kiss you, yet she grazes her lips against your jawline instead –it makes you shiver– until they’re right by your ear. Your knuckles curl white on the cushioned arms. Already you feel the hot caress of arousal pool low in your stomach.

And you hate it.

You don’t want to admit it out loud that you did. To either of you. Your silence seems to irk her, though, because a sharp nip comes at your pulse. “Ah! …I did.” The shameful truth instantly spills from your lips.

“Yes?” She pulls back until you’re eye to eye, lip to lip.

Having her like this on top of you now, eyes gleaming, mouth glistening and oh-so-inviting, you wonder why you ever thought you were strong enough to resist temptation.

“...Yes.”

Cassandra kisses you.

The sensation is every bit as thrilling as you remember. Rousing, like licking a double-edged knife and coming out of it uncut. It is all danger, suspension over fire, without knowing if you’ll end up warmed or burned.

The first kiss was a tiny taste of the forbidden fruit. This one is you delving right into its ripe flesh, accepting you’re already hooked. Yes, you may die. But you weren’t really living since you were brought into the castle, either.

Cassandra is busy sucking on your lower lip when her back tenses under your fingers. Begrudgingly, she pulls herself back, neck turned a tad to the right, listening in for something you cannot hope to hear.

You finally remember what it feels to be alive underneath her slippery lips and breathy little moans, her cold fingers that grip at your throat and clothes like they have yet to decide which of the two they want to rip off. You're sure bruises will be left in the morning.

"Ugh. Daniela is being impatient again." she huffs, borderline irritated. "Gotta go."

You can't exactly stop her. You're not even sure you'd want to, even if you could. "Okay." is about all you can really say.

"Dream of me." she smirks, fingers trailing over your chin as she rises. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She waves, full of charm, a nightmare that somehow shifted into a pleasant dream. Then she's gone, leaving you alone in the dark. Your body laments the loss but your nerves are wiser, finally easing.

For once, however, the prospect of tomorrow doesn't fill you with only dread.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 6

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence, and a line that hints at past physical abuse (depending on how you choose to interpret it) Warnings: Mild TW for implied/referenced abuse Notes: Okay so this was supposed to be somewhat therapeutic? But it ended up taking longer to get to that part than I intended, so... Don't worry though, next chapter will be fluffy and also involve more, like, actual Daniela scenes. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2 Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco

Chapter 6: Elegy

(Elegy: A piece of music in the form of a lament)

When you dream, you do not dream of being locked in a tower, awaiting a kindly knight to come save you. When you dream… you dream of your old home, infested with monsters, nearly unrecognizable. Of being forced to flee, leaving everything you loved behind. Of escaping to a remote, quaint little village, only to end up trapped once again, as friendly faces morph into gaping maws and fangs dripping red. When you dream, it is less a nightmare, more memories retouched, covered in a fresh coat of paint.

Waking up is but a brief source of comfort. One hand goes to your head, rubbing gently, as if you could wipe away all traces of your past. A quick glance around your shared room leaves you confused, but serves as a welcome distraction. Though there are six beds in the room, yours is the only occupied one, the others having all been vacated and made presentable. The only explanation that fit with what you knew was that everyone had gotten up, and gotten to work, without waking you. Panic filled you as you connected the dots, knowing that missing work was a death sentence.

Rushing, you rise to your feet, throwing your dresser open to search for fresh clothes. While the castle’s staff was almost entirely female, the Dimitrescu family didn’t enforce traditional gender presentation, allowing maidens to choose whether to wear a dress or a button-up and trousers. Remembering the wound on your neck, you pause, glancing in the dorm’s singular mirror to inspect your injury. Most of the blood had rubbed off in your sleep (and would likely be a nightmare to clean from the sheets). There were, however, a few spots where dried blood mingled with the protective scab. Considering how late you already were, you didn’t believe you would have time to clean up.

As much as you hated the thought, the best you could do was go for a button-up, hoping the collar would hide the worst of your disastrous appearance. Your hair was another matter entirely, far messier than it normally was, and you struggled to brush/comb it enough to be mildly presentable. Good thing Daniela won’t see me today, you think, remembering her insistence on skipping today’s lesson.

Then you remember the rest of your conversation with her; the yelling, being dragged to your feet, and the pain in her eyes. For a moment you feel woozy, pausing in the middle of buttoning your shirt. Your eyes focus on a spot on the now-closed dresser… and suddenly you wish you had paid more attention when you first woke up. There’s a note stuck to the furniture, clearly addressed to you.

Heard you had some trouble yesterday. We’re just glad you’re alive! A certain someone has been a lot nicer since you started playing the piano, and we’re grateful. To show that, we decided to split your morning duties among ourselves, so you can sleep in. If you’re reading this, then it’s still before 4 AM. Feel free to just relax for a while, or even get some more sleep! We’ll be by to make sure you’re up eventually.

Sincerely,

Daphne, Rosalia, Ygritte, Alexandra, Juniper, and Riley

“I… have… freetime?” You mumbled, still a little drowsy, but now also shocked. This was a complete first for you. Maybe even a first among the servants! Sure, you had been given breaks before, but having a couple hours to do whatever you wanted? No one had ever pulled strings like this for you before. It made your chest feel warm, and you just about forgot the whole mess with Daniela. “I’ll have to find a way to pay them back, even if they think they’re paying me back.” With that said you relaxed a little, no longer rushing getting dressed, though still leaving your neck the way it was. You figured you’d stop by one of the maidens’ restrooms before you officially started your shift.

In the meantime, you knew exactly what you’d be using this time for: finding those damn piano books you had been promised!

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

“Let’s see… dust, more dust, a dead spider, even more dust, and- oh shit, the spider is not dead,” you said, barely holding in a yelp as the arachnid scurries away from you. If you had known the attic would be so unclean, you might not have bothered to come up here. So far your targets had alluded you without giving so much as a hint towards their location. The library had seemed a likely location, but you had heard Daniela’s voice within, and anxiety had sent you dashing away. Up here, in an area clearly used for storage above all else, was the next best guess, as far as you were concerned. Still, you hadn’t seen anything worth your time yet.

Just insects, really. Not even terribly interesting ones. Well, there had been a shiny beetle of some sort, but it had crawled into a crack in the wall mere seconds after you saw it. Other than that, though, nothing but creepy crawlies. Creepy flyers?... Both, for sure. One fly in particular kept buzzing around you, weirdly interested in what you were doing.

Somehow you didn’t understand what that meant until a firm hand had wrapped itself around your neck. The grip was tight, putting more than enough pressure to make your vision blur. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the culprit didn’t intend to just choke you out. Instead they lift you and toss you aside- casually, at that. You hit the wall with a terrible crashing sound, certain to leave bruises, and narrowly avoid toppling into a stack of heavy crates. So much for enjoying some free time, you think. Stunned for several seconds, you find yourself left helpless as your attacker approaches.

“You’re not allowed to be up here,” a voice snarled, familiar enough to leave you terrified. Of course you had to run into the most violent of the Dimitrescu sisters. “Looking for a way out, hmm? Or are you stupid enough to think we’d leave a weapon where a wretched thing like you could find it?” Cassandra asked, pausing only to send a swift kick your way. A grunt escapes you, leaves you coughing, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as hitting the wall. Despite wanting to curl up and give in, you tried to drag yourself to your feet. Surprisingly, Cassandra makes no move to stop you, perhaps enjoying the sight of you struggling.

“Lady… Daniela… gave me permission,” you said between painful breaths. By the time you’re back on your feet, the vampire before you is watching you with narrowed, albeit curious, eyes. Normally it would take a lot of courage to face her. But you’re exhausted, in pain, and you’ve taken nearly as much hurt from someone who called themselves your lover. It’s not brave to stare down Cassandra, it’s foolhardy. It’s idiotic, really, and yet you find yourself unable to care. “I’m just looking for a couple piano books I’ve been told about, so I can use them to help teach Lady Daniela.”

“Oh? You’re her instructor?” Cassandra asked, a strange smile overtaking her expression. Something in the atmosphere has shifted, dangerously, but you can’t figure out why. Clueless to your self-betrayal, you nod in response. Instantly Cassandra’s smile turns into an open-lipped snarl, and she reaches out to grab you by the shirt, this time slamming you into the wall with her own hands. “Then you’re the reason she kept me up yesterday, crying non stop! I’m going to rip you apart, you vermin.”

The look in her eyes is, most definitely, the scariest thing you had ever seen. It’s feral, inhuman, and unstoppably determined. But when tears fall from your eyes, it’s not because you know you’re about to die. No, it’s because the last thing you think you’ll ever hear is the news that your partner had been sobbing for hours… and that you were the reason why. Your heart aches, both physically and emotionally, as you brace yourself for the bloody end.

Instead, the grip on your clothes loosens. You don’t dare open your eyes to see why.

“What the fuck do you want, sis?” Cassandra asked, sounding like she had turned her head away from you. Before you know it you’ve been let go, and you slide to the ground, too surprised to hold yourself steady. When you look up, you see an irritated Bela pulling Cassandra away from you, whispering something you can’t quite hear. They argue for a minute, under their breath, keen on keeping you out of the loop. Eventually the younger of the two storms away, but not before making a dent in the wall with her fist.

“What a child,” Bela said, rolling her eyes at the display. Then she’s walking back towards you, extending a hand in an offer of assistance (one you gladly accept). “That girl has the foresight of a magic eight ball, I swear. If she had actually killed you… ugh, I can hardly stand to imagine how inconsolable Daniela would become. Then I’d have two insufferable sisters. Regardless, do tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to come up here unaccompanied? It is normally off limits for servants, after all.”

“I-I, well… I mean, firstly thank you for saving me, I had no idea-” Bela holds a finger up in a ‘shut up’ motion, then puts it away as soon as you pause- “right, you don’t care. Look, I was just trying to find the piano books that Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, but I’ve looked all over and I can’t find them, so I should really just go,” you explain, eager to get out of the attic. To your surprise, Bela gives you an odd look before turning away. Then she takes no more than five steps, shifts to the side, and opens an old cabinet. Inside you can see a dozen books of sheet music, notably from several different decades, all worn but still in decent condition. “How did-?... I thought I checked there.”

“Well, you must have been distracted. Nonetheless, you know where they are now, and you owe me twice over. With that in mind… come with me. We have things to discuss,” Bela commanded, walking away before you could protest. All you can do is grab the sheet music, tuck it under one arm, and follow her to who-knows-where.

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

“I’ll have to have you make my tea more often,” Bela mused, letting the mug keep her hands warm. The two of you were sitting in some sort of study, a room that you had never been inside before. From what you could tell it belonged solely to the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. Inside were several shelves, each filled with well bookmarked collections, a desk next to a massive window, a couple simple chairs, and a few instrument cases. All in all it was an aesthetically pleasing room, organized but not exactly neat. You could certainly imagine Bela spending entire days in this chamber. “Now, why do you think I brought you here?” Her voice brings your focus back into the present moment, as well as sends a spike of anxiety through you.

“Based on what nearly got me killed earlier… Does it have to do with Daniela crying?” You asked, doing your best to indicate just how bad you felt about the subject. No matter how cruel she could be, you did honestly care about Daniela, and even wanted a real, healthy relationship with her. Desire, or willingness, wasn’t the root of the problem by any means. Something told you that Bela understood this, maybe even respected you for it.

“Guess there’s more in that pretty head of yours than air and symphonies, hmm?” Bela replied, laughing a little as she did. It was a far nicer sound than Cassandra’s maniacal giggling, for sure. “Now, I don’t know all the details about what happened- just that there was an argument, clearly a bad one, and Daniela barely made it through dinner before locking herself in her room. Luckily for you, our mother doesn’t seem to know about your little ‘fight’. She’s not sure what upset Dani, and I doubt my sister would tell her, so your secret is safe. Assuming that I blackmailed Cassandra well enough, that is. Anyway, I can’t help you, and by extension my sister, if I don’t know the full story. In case it wasn’t clear, that’s your cue to start talking.”

You’re surprised, admittedly, by a number of things. But Bela seems impatient, so you go over the details of the previous night with her, occasionally pausing to let her ask questions. The whole time her focus is on you, unwavering. There’s also a noticeable lack of judgement in her expression, even when you voice your regret about how you handled the situation, and what is there seems directed more towards Daniela than yourself. Once you finish, Bela releases a deep sigh. One of her hands goes to rub her forehead as if warding off a migraine.

“Well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, as much as I wish I could. Daniela’s always had her head in the clouds, and it’s left her tripping over her own feet more than once. Still, this is certainly one of her bigger messes…” Bela said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going to have to talk to her about this, aren’t I? There’s no way she’s going to process this correctly on her own.” This time she seemed to be talking to herself, gaze locked on her tea as if it might suddenly offer to speak to Daniela in her place. When the tea stayed silent, understandably, she returned her focus to you. “You seemed upset, earlier, about this ridiculous situation. I am going to assume, from that, you are genuinely interested in my dear sister. Normally, this would be the part where I drain you of all blood, and possibly keep your skull as a memento... mori. Yours would look lovely on a window sill, I think.”

She pauses, head tilting a little to the side, clearly evaluating your artistic value.

“However, Daniela appears to care about you, far more than her usual fleeting infatuations. So, for now, I have decided not to eviscerate you, you’re welcome,” Bela cooed, teasingly, enjoying the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Still, you were glad that you would apparently be surviving the day. “So I’m going to give you some advice, which you will take, and you won’t even owe me anything extra for this. Daniela is in love with the mere concept of love- and she has been for as long as I can remember. Romance novels are practically the only books she reads. It’s… embarrassing, truly. More than that, I get the impression that she couldn’t even begin to describe what love actually feels like. She’s digested so much of that written drivel that it warped her senses. Of course, the, ahem, situation we find ourselves in, here at the castle, has undoubtedly added to this effect.

“To get to the point, Daniela’s terribly, hopelessly clueless when it comes to things like what she wants from you. And so I take it upon myself, as her older sibling, to ensure that you understand. Moreso, that you are not dissuaded. If this is an actual chance for her to experience real romance, then it could make her happier than I’ve ever seen her,” Bela explained. The look in her eyes was incredibly soft, to the point where it made you realize just how much this odd little family cared for each other. “Don’t give up, don’t let her occasional infuriating antics push you away. Given enough time… I think the two of you could, I suppose, compliment each other quite nicely. But if you break her heart? I will pull yours from your chest and eat it raw. Understood?” Gulping, you nodded quickly, ignoring the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks. It was one thing for Bela to want her sister to be happy, but another thing entirely for her to acknowledge your “suitability” for the position. “Good. Now return to whatever it is you maidens normally do. I have a sister to talk sense into.”

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

Hours later, you stand alone in a display room, dusting various relics from bygone times. A trophy here, a bizarre art piece there, strange, unlabeled tools you can’t quite imagine are for wine-making. It’s a fascinating collection, really. But your mind is focused on other, far softer things. All you can think about is what Bela had told you, about how Daniela really is interested in you, and how she thought the two of you could make it work. After the chaos earlier in the day, this was exactly what you needed. Just some time to yourself, working quietly, thoughts all to yourself. Even your bruises bother you less, the pain fading out into the background. Considering where you are, though, it is not at all surprising that your peace cannot last. As soon as you finish your task you move towards the exit.

The door swings open, outwards, at your touch, only to reveal a familiar figure reaching for the doorknob. Both of you gasp, taken by surprise, before your gazes meet. Of course it’s Daniela. Who else would you bump into right now?

“I thought about what you said,” she blurts, suddenly, eyes wide and hands shaking. “We need to talk, yeah?”

[maddiewritesstucky]

hello! i would like to know that if your bucky in silver steve universe is into feminization?

(please ignore me if you have written this before, i just got struck with this idea after reading that frat evans/silver daddy thing)

if he is into it, what if one day they do decide playing college where silver daddy is The Professor and baby buck is The Student but bucky walks in with a damn mini school skirt with white thigh high socks and a white transparent shirt? he has some cherry colored lip gloss on his lips and his hair is beautifully and masterfully messed up,,,, he's all smooth too 👀

do you think silver daddy would stand a chance? because i can see him going "this why i said i wouldn't deserve you. goddamn, baby, look it them gorgeous legs" 👀

thank you 😌 lmao

Okay so when I wrote Silver Steve saying that, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to that possibility of what college role play would actually look like for these two.

I don’t see this pair as one for feminization, (my mind did immediately shift your slutty uniform suggestion onto my SugarVerse Bucky though, because those two would absolutely get amongst that 👀) but I think if Silver Steve and Bucky were to attempt some kind of professor/student role play, it would end up going a little something like this...

***

“Mr Barnes, right on time. Please come in...close the door behind you.” 

Bucky’s eyes widen as he steps into the study, taking in the scene before him. 

Steve’s gone all out - moved his desk away from the wall to sit behind it with an empty chair on the other side; wearing his thick framed reading glasses and a goddamn tweed vest that he’s pulled out of nowhere. He’s staring Bucky down with his fingers steepled on the desk and a grin not nearly as well contained as he probably thinks it is, and it only serves to remind Bucky just how out of their element they both are here. 

“Professor Rogers,” Bucky bites back his own smile as he closes the door, shutting them both into the impromptu ‘office.’ “What’s this about, sir?” 

He saunters forward, casting his eyes downward to the stack of opened mail Steve is sliding across the desk with a sigh. 

“It’s about your latest assignment,” Steve gestures at last month’s power bill,  “you wanna tell me why you were so late handing it in?” 

Late, of course Steve’s playing it this way. Bucky almost wants to break character and kiss Steve right now for his inability to even pretend like he’d ever find Bucky’s work subpar.

“I’m sorry, professor, I’ve just found myself a little...distracted, lately.” Bucky circles round the desk, bypassing the empty seat to perch instead right in front of Steve, on the desk’s edge. “I hope this isn’t going to affect my grade?”

He walks his fingers up the line of Steve’s arm, and Steve as good as giggles.

“Well I’m not sure Mr Barnes, this is the second time this has happened, I’m starting to see a pattern here…” 

He tries to furrow his brow as he looks up at Bucky, but his eyes are sparkling, and honestly...this whole thing is a little ridiculous. 

The whole idea started as a joke, really. But then it turned into a ‘maybe this could be fun’ and eventually a ‘hold up, this could actually be hot’ the more Bucky thought about it. 

But his fantasies had failed to factor in the realities that a) they don’t do role play, and b) Steve will always and only ever be Steve, regardless of circumstance.

“Is there anything I could do to make up for it?” Bucky husks, as seductive as he’s able while trying not to laugh. “Maybe there’s some kind of arrangement we could come to?”

He leans in and tucks his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, trying to hide the way his cheeks are pinking up, and Steve’s hands come to settle on his hips. 

“I suppose you could, uh, focus harder…” Steve clears his throat, tipping his head for the press of Bucky’s lips, “apply yourself…”

“Apply myself? To what should I apply myself, professor?” 

Bucky works his lips up the line of Steve’s jaw and slips his hand down Steve’s chest, and he feels the exact moment Steve freezes at the downwards trajectory of his touch.

“Um...summer school?” 

“Summer school?!” Bucky can’t help the sudden outburst of laughter that bubbles up. “Steve, this is supposed to be a sex thing!” 

He pulls back to watch Steve burying his face in his hands, smothering a groan. 

“God, I know,” Steve laughs, “but this is so unethical! This professor is a creep!”

“It’s fake!” Bucky’s giggling now too, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him into a hug as Steve physically shudders and recoils from his own imaginary behavior.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, let me try again,” Steve steels himself, pulling back and shaking himself off, “I can do this, just...be the predator...” 

His glasses are sitting slightly askew on his face now, and the vest is even more pilled and ill-fitting up close, and Bucky’s laughter is the only thing that’s realistically gonna get any harder here. 

“Stevie, let’s just...chalk this one up to experience,” Bucky grins, wiping at the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

But Steve shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Bucky and tugging him into his lap. 

“No! I can do this!” he laughs, slipping his hands around to grope at Bucky’s ass, “See? Look, I’m being a creep! Take your clothes off or I’ll fail you!” 

“Steve!”

“Get naked right now or I’ll revoke your scholarship! Show me your...your entire...nude body!” 

“Steve!” Bucky’s gone for it, crying with laughter and squirming away from the kisses Steve is pecking all over his face and his neck. “Wait, I got a scholarship in this scenario?” 

“Obviously,” Steve grins, “top of your class. And if you wanna stay there you better make it worth my while, you...devious student.”

“Devious student? That’s not even remotely se—” 

“I will give you straight A’s for the entire rest of the semester if you let me see your bottom!” 

“Okay, we’re done here,” Bucky traps Steve’s beaming face between his hands, “this is not happening. I love you, but role play is cancelled indefinitely!” 

“Really? I kinda felt like I was getting the hang of it th—” 

“Indefinitely,” Bucky kisses him square on the mouth, smile to soul-deep smile, “but if you wanna take me to bed, as just plain old you and me? That I can allow.”

“Fine,” Steve sighs, scooping a giggling Bucky up with him as he stands, “but I’m keeping the vest on.” 

[itswildwinters]

✰ here’s a masterpost with all my fics (+ their fic post) that you can find on my ao3! This post will be regularly updated, from earliest to oldest fic!

✰ carpe diem — (E • 2,9k)

The world has succumbed but two lovers find solace in an abandoned grocery store.

✰ In Your Scent I Thrive — (E • 33,3k)

There are very few things on earth that makes sense to Harry. Louis is not one of them.

OR; Harry’s particular condition has made it impossible for him to enjoy people’s scent, until he meets Louis.

✰ Memory of a Dream — (E • 64,7K)

Harry hums. “Why else do you think I brought you here? It's our places now," the alpha smiles, gentle. "Have you always lived with your godmothers?”

He nods, gazing at the leaves as the breeze comes to ruffle them. “As long as I can remember. And if you’re wondering what happened to my parents, I don’t really know. Apparently they died when I was still a baby.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry tentatively reaches over to put his arm around him; he doesn’t protest. Instead, he snuggles closer and closes his eyes.

There seems to be a barrier between them, or some kind of deep gulf that can’t be crossed. He feels it right now even though he’s never been so close to Harry before. Harry’s entire body is kissing his curves, in a place remote from everything; and yet… and yet he can’t connect with Harry. Maybe it is for the best — getting attached to somebody he can’t have sounds like torture. At one point, Harry moves so that he is sitting right behind Louis, allowing for the omega to lean against the alpha’s chest; it feels good, he feels safe. He is succumbing to illusions; he will get hurt.

Somewhere behind them, a raven croaks.

-

OR; a Sleeping Beauty AU.

✰ Hamartia — (E • 67k)

“Your scent lingering on my pillow… oh Honey, If only you knew that the moment I dread most every time you leave… Is when it fades.”

Six years is a long time for Louis to mend his heart back and erase every lingering, stubborn memory of his ex-lover, Harry Styles. But when news of the war being over spreads across the world like wildfire, and he stumbles upon the alpha he vowed himself to never see ever again, he realises that not even a lifetime will be enough for him to pick up the scattered, broken parts of his soul. He's far from expecting the alpha he loved to be struggling in the same way.

All the ointments in the world might never soothe the pain out, but it doesn't take long for them both to come to the conclusion that, maybe, the only medicine to their heartbreaks are what caused them in the first place.

✰ dirty laundry looks good on you — (E • 50k)

When Louis Tomlinson finds his clothes lying in a sad soapy mess on top of the washing machine in which they are supposed to be, he acts upon his anger and retaliates. What he doesn’t expect is having to deal with a six-feet tall, curly-haired and dimpled man in return, who seems to arouse confusing feelings within him and to make his life take an unexpected turn for the better (or worse?).

OR; the utility room is a great place to fall in love.

✰ a taste of freedom and sweetened passion — (M • 74,7k) for @falsegoodnight

“Are you mad?” he explodes, throwing his hands up, groaning. “I was so, so close to reaching my goal, and your stupid, stalking ass had to creep up on me, hm?”

Harry is trying to keep his laughter in, walking closer to him, eyes soft. He doesn’t like the way those eyes make him feel, an odd, dangerous mix of nervous and flustered, so he bends down to pick up the books, raising an eyebrow when Harry growls in protest.

“I wanted to pick them up for you,” the alpha pouts, and Louis glares at him, getting into position and lowering the pile of yellowed pages over the top of his head.

“I’m a functional human being, thank you very much,” he grits out as he begins to walk and mentally count the amount of steps he takes. One, two, three, for heaven’s sake Harry fuck off!, four, five. He doesn’t let himself be distracted as the alpha walks along with him despite the slow pace, green eyes focused on him in a way that would, in any other cases, compelled him to throw a book in the alpha’s face.

He doesn’t know why he doesn’t do it and certainly doesn’t want to think about the reason, whatever it might be.

✰ in a sea of mist — (E • 126,7k)

A Greek Mythology/Camp Half-Blood AU where Harry is lost, the road to peace is a wretched one, and somehow, through a mist of confusion and regrets, Louis seems to be the only thing that makes sense and everything Harry needs.

✰ those who from the Pit of Hell, roam to seek their prey on earth — (E • 17,6k)

1889. Louis Tomlinson is a student at the prestigious Harrow School for Boys, nurturing his passion for forensic medicine under the care of a particularly mysterious and dark teacher, Harry Styles, who has set his main focus on a series of gruesome murders, all of them reflecting the year 1888, when Jack the Ripper went rampant in the poor streets of Whitechapel.

✰ ruby eyes and tainted vices — (E • 666) 

Harry goes to bed alone, but wakes up to a body next to his.

✰ the hope that warbles in my fluttering breast — (M • 10k)

"I don't feel good," Louis admitted, eyes watering. Harry rounded the table to sit next to Louis, worry eating at his guts.

"It's alright, we've got everything we need. We will be fine."

But Louis shook his head.

"No, it's not that. I don't feel well."

Harry bit his bottom lip, hard. "The babies?"

"No, they're not moving, I just... I don't know, something is wrong. I think I need to lay down, alright?"

The winter growls loud and mean outside as Harry Styles comes home to his precious Louis.

✰ you contain in your eyes the sunset and the dawn — (M • 38,1k)

Louis moaned prettily as he grabbed one of the hybrid's thighs and inched it up, his hand big enough to cover almost the entire of it. When he looked into Louis' eyes, they were practically just black, a pool of lust and tension rendering the baby blue of his eyes intense and rich. And they kept kissing until their lips tickled, until they were sure they would bruise and turn a deep burgundy colour.

"How was I supposed to know?" Harry mumbled in the crook of Louis' neck, letting his tongue and teeth play with the skin there.

"Couldn't you just talk to me?" was Louis' answer, and Harry thought.

He thought of how much time they had wasted because of him.

Harry Styles was to spend six months at AT&T Inc. of all telecommunications companies in the world, also known as the largest one in its field. This was the biggest deal of his life; it will both improve his expertise in the domain and maybe secure the job of his dreams. There was only one problem standing in the way, and it came in the form of a stunning, irresistible and intimidating cat hybrid of the name Louis Tomlinson. In other words, his boss.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV  - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions. 

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R. 

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply. 

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible. 

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?” 

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated. 

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically. 

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely. 

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen. 

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.” 

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody. 

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away. 

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer. 

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right? 

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now. 

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

[kirinda-ondo]

You know him, you either love or hate him (or are moderately confused by my sudden dive into this hyperfixation); we're talking about Orko because I have a lot of feelings.

As a disclaimer, I am not gonna claim to be some kind of superfan. I am not aware of every single iteration of the lore and all of its secrets. I don't know anything about the DC comics. I'm only halfway through the 2002 series as of me writing this. I am not someone you want to have discussions on the wider Masters of the Universe.... universe with. However, after watching Revelation, the entire Filmation He-Man (and some of She-Ra, cause he was there too), and going on a deep dive of storybooks, annuals, and minicomics courtesy of He-Man.org and the lovely people who submitted their scans there, I do feel pretty qualified to at least talk about Orko.

So, with all that being said, I'd like to get into a little bit of backstory, if only for my followers who came to this blog for completely different things and are wondering where the hell my love for this funky little wizard dude came from all of a sudden. Truth is, Orko is actually one of my earliest faves! Mind you, I only had limited access to Masters of the Universe as a kid, only seeing a couple of rented VHS tapes and later getting my hands on a small pile of the Golden Books from Goodwill, but apparently it was enough for Orko to  imprint himself into my brain. However, also due to my limited exposure, he kind of got shifted to the back of my head as I got deeper into other things. I still knew for a fact I liked Orko a lot though, even if I couldn't quite remember why anymore.

And then Masters of the Universe: Revelation dropped on Netflix. I'm not gonna get into my opinions of that show lest I open a flood of irrelevant discourse (for those uninitiated, it is a bit... divisive, to say the least). However my feelings on the matter did encourage me to go and watch the original and well, holy shit I love Orko more now than I could have ever comprehended as a kid. He is THE quintessential underappreciated comic relief character I tend to gravitate towards, and then some.

But before I get into that, let me back up a bit and explain. Orko is a Trollan, a race of magical little dudes that are basically floating sweaters with hats and covered up faces. Out of these Trollans, Orko is an incredibly fucking OP archmage. Like, they straight up call him Orko the Great, he's so powerful. But then, he gets caught in a freak storm that whisks him away from his home dimension and into Eternia. Immediately, he runs into a young Prince Adam, who is trapped in a swamp/tar pit and needs rescuing. Orko, being the upstanding lad that he is, uses his magic to save him but in the process loses the item that allows him to focus his magic to the swamp (in the 80s version, it's a medallion, but in the 2002 series, it's a wand). Worse yet, the magic (and dare I say the very laws of physics) in Eternia works pretty much the opposite as it does in Trolla, so he's been incredibly nerfed.

So basically, Orko is trapped in a topsy-turvy world away from friends and family, a world with magic he is fundamentally incompatible with. Ouch. He's not completely screwed, however, as he is rewarded by the king and queen for his heroism and appointed... the court jester. Double ouch. He surprisingly doesn't seem to mind though. He genuinely does enjoy entertaining people, even when his tricks only ever work like half the time because he's basically a Mac program trying to run on a Windows computer.

It's not all horrible though, as he does quite literally get adopted by the royal family  and thus sort of become the entire palace's weird son/little brother (despite being older than many of them. He's very, very child-coded largely for the purposes of being a stand-in and example lesson to the actual children watching). But also, more importantly, he becomes one of the very select few to know that Adam and He-Man are one and the same.

But outside of secret-keeping, he is actually a pretty valuable ally to have against Skeletor and his dudes because even though his magic is kind of screwed up, when it does work, he's still one of the most powerful mages on Eternia. In various materials, he's created floods, a second winter, and hell, he can literally explode himself and still be perfectly fine. He's also really clever and can weasel his way out of a number of situations. In one episode, for instance, he manages to convince someone that he's He-Man and Adam is his "assistant" in order to free him from captivity so the day has a better chance of actually being saved.  He's also got the ability to just be really frustrating and incomprehensible to the point that villains who capture him sometimes either don't want him or don't know what to do with him anymore, which is honestly really funny. In an episode of She-Ra, the villains tried to scan his brain but because the inner machinations of his mind are that much of an enigma, he got diagnosed a weirdo and broke the entire machine. Absolutely delightful.

However, there's a lot more to Orko than just comedy and bungled magic. He's actually surprisingly complex!

See, going into this, I expected Orko's whole situation be played entirely for laughs while the sadder implications of his existence go entirely unaddressed. Coming off the heels of characters like Cobalt and others I enjoy, I'm used to this sort of treatment by writers. But they actually don't do that. The depressing subtext is for once, actually TEXT, which was INCREDIBLY surprising to me. We actually get to see another side of him, a side that hates that he can't be taken seriously no matter what he does, a side that is well aware of all the trouble he causes and feels like a burden to those around him. He actually runs away on multiple occasions, fully believing that he's unloved and everyone would be better off without him, even if that couldn't be further from the truth (a point which the Sorceress hammers home with multiple straight up magical video presentations, and in the 2002 series, a literary adaptation, of why he is loved and important).

Underneath all the hyping himself up that he does, there's a lot of insecurity. He's someone who desperately wants to be loved and respected and feels that without funny magic tricks to entertain people, he has no inherent value (which is incredibly relatable if you are also known by people as The Funny One). At one point he agrees with the notion that he doesn't feel like much more than a pet, which is absolutely heartbreaking. Even when he gets the ability to go back and forth between Eternia and Trolla, his feelings of inadequacy now extend toward his family, worrying that his own uncle, the one who taught him everything he knows and greatly contributed to him being Orko the Great back home in the first place, wouldn't be proud of him. Being on Eternia highkey wrecked his shit, man.

However, even when given the opportunity to go back home for good, he always chooses to stay because he's loyal as hell. Even if he needs some reminders, he does know he's needed not just in the fight against evil, but just because his friends and newfound family genuinely love him. It's heartbreaking, but also incredibly wholesome. I did not even remotely expect a comic relief character like this to get this much depth and respect from the writers, especially not from the incredibly campy and cheaply animated 80s series. I am genuinely so unused to this.

But I think that's also what separates him a bit from his fellow Silly Kid Appeal Characters That Kids Fucking Hate ala Snarf Thundercats or Scrappy Doo. He not only makes a concerted effort to be an actually useful ally, but he's also in fact very self-aware of his status as one of these characters. He knows he screws up a lot but he actually tries to accept responsibility and fix it. It makes me wanna root for the lil dude. Now I understand if someone isn't a fan of the brand of humor he brings to the table, or feel like he's simply a distraction from the Cool Buff Dudes Fighting Each Other, but I hope you can see why he might also be a really appealing character to other people, both kids and adults alike. I mean, he was popular enough to be embedded into the canon despite originating from the cartoon and not the toyline for a reason, after all.

Orko is a fun, entertaining, but also complex, heartwarming, and relatable character. I know there is a faction of people that would disagree with me, but I don't think you need to change him all that much or make him a super serious character to be more appealing. He's already got a lot going on that a writer could easily work with. It all just depends on where you decide to focus. Take a lesson from the show and accept that he's fine just the way he is.

[eliemo]

Getting There

Part Two of The Worst Thing in the World

Summary: Logan says it will take some time. He promises the others will always be patient. Virgil knows this, he just wishes it wasn’t quite so easy to push him back over the edge. 

Masterpost

Notes: I plan on writing a bunch of these, so don’t worry! Janus and Remus’s reactions will come soon! 

Learned behavior, especially in cases like this, was incredibly hard to unlearn. Logan had made that very clear, many times, assuring Virgil that it was perfectly reasonable to have some occasional setbacks. 

A long talk and a cuddle session, while Patton’s go-to medicine, wouldn’t magically fix all their problems. 

Logan had insisted on pulling all four of them aside the next day, delving into research and tactics to use to ensure Virgil felt safe, to gradually undo the damage that  had been done. 

Patton and Roman had been listening intently, nodding along, sure to pause and ask for Virgil’s input whenever it was needed, holding his hand and making sure he was never overwhelmed. 

There were some...unpleasant phrases thrown around during the talk. Abuse, trauma, conditioning...it all felt like something dirty. Like he was tainted, broken. 

And of course they knew what he was thinking, they were all so kind and attentive, so openly worried, quick to reassure and comfort.  

It helped, but...but still. Virgil was still struggling to wrap his head around the fact that all the things he went through, all the things he’d been taught were normal and expected weren’t...weren’t ok. That it wasn’t normal. 

He’d deserved it. That’s what they told him. He went through all of that pain because that was just the way it was, and there was no other choice. 

Had he really been stupid enough, pathetic enough to just believe that and let it all happen? If he was so easy to take advantage of, so easy to hurt, then why wouldn’t the light sides end up doing the exact same thing, no matter how well meaning they were in the beginning? 

He knew it was stupid and unfair to have those thoughts. And to make it worse, he knew they knew he was thinking it. 

They wouldn’t do that. They’d sworn it to him too many times to count. Like Logan said it was just...going to take some time to believe it. 

And things did get better. Slowly. He might not have even realized progress was being made if it weren’t for the less than subtle praise the three of them kept offering, the pride and hope that was impossible to miss. 

As embarrassing as it was, being practically applauded for something as small as  forcing himself not to fall into a desperate string of apologies for bumping into someone’s shoulder, he couldn’t deny that it helped to some extent. 

He did wish he was doing a little better, though. Sometimes he had to force himself not to flee if someone was in a bad mood, silently remind himself that no one was going to hurt him, that he didn’t need to be afraid, didn’t need to protect himself and hide. 

It didn’t always work. 

And there were always going to be slip ups. Little mistakes and thoughtless behavior that Virgil would never hold against the others. They were trying so hard and like Patton had said, mistakes were part of being human. 

There had been a...particularly bad day during a rather stressful filming week. Their schedule was finally allowing them all a bit of a break, and Virgil had taken up residence in the living room for the afternoon, lost in his own head in a futile attempt to relax. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d left some things strewn around. Just a few pillows and blankets- it wasn’t a big deal, he’d clean it up before he headed back up to his room like he usually did. At the time, he was too tired to really give it much thought. 

And then Roman had stalked through the living room, nose buried in his notes, mumbling something under his breath. He was clearly swarmed with the work Thomas needed from him, lost in thought and stress, and on his way to the kitchen he’d stumbled over one of the pillows. 

Virgil smirked and sat up with the intent of calling the Prince a clutz, hopeful that their familiar banter could reduce some of the tension from the workload, but Roman beat him to it. 

“Jesus, Virgil will you clean up your mess?” He snapped, kicking the pillow aside. “I don’t have time to be tripping over your stuff!” 

And then he was gone, disappearing into the kitchen, and Virgil had...froze. 

It was fine. He knew it was ok, he knew…

But all of that had disappeared in a second, all rational thought drowned out by cold, all consuming fear and memories, harsh realizations that Roman was angry- angry at him, and Virgil had left a mess, and whenever he’d left a mess before he’d been punished--

That snapped him out of his shock, instinct and panic taking over, and he threw himself from the couch and dropped to the floor, gathering everything into a pile and frantically trying to fold the blankets with trembling hands. 

It was fine, it was fine, it was fine. He’d made a stupid mistake but he could fix it. It would hurt less if he just cleaned it up. 

God why wouldn’t his hands stop shaking? His chest was aching, his grip weak and unsteady. It took far too long to get the blankets folded, and when it was finally done the end result was uneven and lumpy, nothing that would get him out of any trouble. 

He didn’t even know when he’d started crying, fear and hopelessness setting in all at once, but suddenly he was sobbing, breaths quick and ragged as he desperately tried to smooth out the blankets, refusing to focus on getting a hold of his breathing until it was fixed, until the room was clean and Roman didn’t have to be angry anymore—

“Kiddo?” 

Oh no. No no no, he wasn’t ready for anyone else to see what he’d done yet. It was still a mess, he’d still left everything a mess and he was a mess, and he was just going to make them more upset with him and then it would be worse. 

“Virgil.” There was someone kneeling beside him, and it took him a moment to realize it was Patton. “What’s wrong?” 

Virgil shook his head, knowing Patton was looking over the mess Virgil had created, growing just as angry as Roman. 

“I-I’m cleaning,” he managed, wincing when his voice came out a pathetic, weak stammer. “I d-didn’t mean to- mean to leave it a m-mess, I was- I was gonna clean it up, I didn’t mean to upset him, I didn’t--” 

“Hey, it’s ok.” Patton’s hands were suddenly over his own, squeezing gently to stop Virgil from frantically trying to fix the wrinkles, the folded blankets still not even remotely acceptable. “Breathe, honey. Can you look at me?” 

Virgil obeyed almost immediately, not willing to risk making anybody anymore angry than they already were, trying to stop his ragged sobs to no avail. 

“There you go, kiddo. Can you take some deep breaths for me?” 

Virgil shook his head. “I- I can’t, I have to fix it, I- I’m trying to clean it up, I promise.” 

“It’s ok,” Patton said again. “It looks fine, Virge. You know it doesn’t need to be perfect.” 

“Yes it does,” Virgil argued, because he knew it did. He was already in trouble, making it perfect and spotless was the only way to lessen the inevitable punishment. “I already made him mad and he’s gonna- he’s gonna...I have to fix it, I have to--” 

“Nobody’s going to do anything to you, Virgil.” Patton frowned, moving Virgil’s shaking hands from the pile of blankets. “Who do you think is mad at you?” 

And for a second, Virgil wasn’t even sure. Just for a second, he almost said another name, too many memories overlapping. 

But then it cleared slightly, and he was only blinded by the current panic of what he’d done, still unable to fully grasp what was being said to him. 

“R-Roman, he...I didn’t realize that he wanted it clean I-I didn’t know and I ruined it and he’s upset and he’ll--”

“Slow down, kiddo,” Patton said, for some reason looking even more distressed when Virgil snapped his mouth shut, watching the moral side with wide, wary eyes. “Roman’s a bit distracted today, I’m sure he isn’t upset. He probably doesn’t even realize.”

Virgil hadn’t even noticed until Patton frowned down at their hands, but he’d been desperately fighting against the other side’s hold, frantically trying to go back to smoothing out the blankets without even realizing. 

“Here,” Patton said, gently easing him back. “How about I go get Roman, and then we can--”

“No!” Virgil had ripped his arms out of Patton’s grip, scrambling backwards without any clear thought of what he was doing. “N-no, no Patton, please let me finish, let me just try, I can do it I swear, he doesn’t have to be upset, I can be better, I can fix it please--” 

“Honey,” Patton tried, and Virgil knew he was scaring him but he couldn’t seem to stop. “You’re ok. I promise. Remember what we said? You’re safe with us.” 

Virgil curled in on himself, hunched over on the living room floor, mind scrambling desperately to latch on to what Patton was saying, trying and continuously failing to make sense of the warped reality his panic had created. 

“Please don’t get him yet,” he found himself begging. “Please, not while he’s angry, please, he’ll hurt me, I don’t want him to hurt me again.” 

And that was when Virgil had known, both he and Patton, that he wasn’t talking about Roman anymore. 

But he didn’t stop his pleading, and Patton didn’t even hesitate, carefully lowering himself beside Virgil who forced himself not to flinch away. 

The thought of fleeing to hide briefly crossed his mind. Patton would eventually call Roman in, and Roman would see the mess Virgil still hadn’t cleaned up, and he’d still be angry. 

Virgil had tried hiding before. It didn’t always work, and it often led to worse punishment once he was caught, but on the off chance that he got away, the anger had usually faded by the time he resurfaced. 

Usually. It often wasn’t worth the effort. 

“You’re ok,” Patton said again, pulling him from his thoughts. “I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Virgil. Ever again. Can you breathe with me, please?” 

Virgil nodded, something screaming at him to obey, just do what they wanted and it would be ok…

It took an embarrassingly long time for Patton to talk Virgil down, for Virgil to even remember where he was, what exactly he was so afraid of. 

But it all came back, slowly, the real world filtering in around the panic, the soothing voices, the gentle reminders that he wasn’t in any danger. 

Oh. Great, he’d done it again. 

It took Virgil a second to come back fully, blinking as he registered Patton sitting beside him, watching with wide, teary eyes. 

Oh, god. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed, now for an entirely new reason. “I’m ok Patton, I just thought...fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out like that.” 

“Language, kiddo,” Patton said softly. “You don’t need to be upset with yourself, and you have nothing to apologize for.” 

Virgil’s breathing was still too shallow, his chest aching with each gasp, and before he knew it he was reaching for Patton, letting himself melt into the other side’s embrace. 

He managed to keep himself from crying again, just barely, closing his eyes against Patton’s ever soothing words of comfort and safety. 

They’d been down this road too many times by now, some days worse than others, and Virgil had no idea how long his family was going to put up with this. Their patience seemed endless, but everyone had their limit. 

“I’m trying,” he said after a moment, desperately needing Patton to understand. “I’m trying, Pat. I‘m trying so hard to be better, I swear I’m trying, I don’t want to keep doing this but I just--”

“You’re making more progress than you think, kiddo,” Patton said, cutting off his frantic rambling. “And we’ve already told you, there’s no rush. It’s gonna take time, and that’s ok. We aren’t going anywhere.”

They’d all told him that at some point. Told him he was getting there, that it wasn’t his fault when he slipped up, that they wouldn’t give up on him. 

They’d all promised, all in their own way. Virgil only wondered if they’d realized just what it was they were signing up for. 

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Patton was carefully pulling away, smiling almost apologetically. 

“I’m going to get Roman now.” He frowned at the way Virgil’s shoulders tensed, eyes cast downward. “I’ll tell him what happened. But we can’t just leave these things unaddressed, you know that.” 

He did know. Logan had said it enough times, along with countless other tactics and behaviors to help Virgil that never seemed to work. 

Nothing ever worked. He couldn’t even recover properly. 

But when he nodded miserably Patton just gave another small smile, squeezing his hand before standing from the couch and hurrying into the kitchen. 

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, Virgil left to hunch over himself beneath his pulled up hood and press into the corner of the couch, when there was the sound of footsteps rushing towards the living room. 

He managed not to flinch, just glanced up and watched as Roman practically came barreling into the room, eyes wide and face flushed. 

Princey looked like he wanted to rush across the room to Virgil’s side without a second more of hesitation, but a glance back at Patton in the doorway stopped him in his tracks. 

“Virgil, I-I’m so sorry.” He was breathless, and Virgil’s throat felt tight at the waver in his voice. “I should have known...I wasn’t even thinking--” 

“It’s ok,” Virgil said, willing his hands to stop shaking, pushing down the cruel, nagging voice shouting warnings in the back of his mind. “Really, Roman. It was a stupid overreaction. It’s on me.” 

Roman took a careful step forward, only moving the rest of the way to the couch when Virgil didn’t immediately tense up or move away. 

“I am sworn to protect you,” he said, voice oddly small as he lowered himself beside Virgil. “I was stressed and distracted- but that's no excuse. I should never have allowed myself to do or say anything that could make you feel unsafe.” 

Virgil let out a trembling sigh, the obvious guilt in Princey’s eyes like a punch to the gut, so painfully undeserved, and all his fault. 

He took Roman’s hand, noting how the creative side almost instantly relaxed at the physical contact. “You were stressed, and you just asked me to pick up my things off the floor. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” 

“And I shouldn’t have been so aggressive,” Roman said. “You have no reason to be ashamed of your reaction, especially with the stress you’re under. I promise it won’t happen again, Virge.” 

The reassurances, as always, settled something in Virgil’s chest, breaths coming a bit easier, a weight gradually lifting from his shoulders. But it still just felt...wrongly placed. 

“It’s ok if it does,” he said, finding himself leaning against Roman’s side. “We’re...learning, right? All of us? It’s- it’ ok if we have slip ups. It happens.” 

Logan had said something similar to all of them countless times before, his words of course were much more steady and eloquent, but Virgil knew Roman would recognize the words for what they were. 

“You’re right.” Roman still sounded unconvinced, but Virgil couldn’t bring himself to dwell over it too much when he was being pulled close, once again enveloped in strong, safe arms. “And we’re getting there. Together.” 

It wasn’t the first slip up that had sent Virgil back into that awful, panicked state, and it definitely wasn’t the last. 

It was stupidly easy to trigger him back into that mindset, convinced he was too much, that he’d done something horrible, that he would be punished and hurt accordingly. 

He was assured it was ok, that it was “normal” to react like this after going through the things he had, but Virgil was almost sure he was taking an absurdly long time to show any improvement. 

But then again...maybe that wasn’t entirely true. 

Improvement could be so slow, so small, that maybe the bad just sometimes happened to overshadow the good. 

The first time Virgil really noticed it, he’d been finishing up putting away some clean dishes, Logan setting the table for dinner while Patton and Roman idly chatted over their cooking. 

“Virgil?” Logan called. “Those glasses actually go in the other cabinet to your right. Do you mind moving them?” 

Right, he’d known that. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” 

It was only a few cups, and he wordlessly moved them to the next shelf over before closing the cabinet and making his way over to the couch until dinner was ready. 

Or at least...that was what he planned on doing before realizing that everyone in the kitchen was staring at him. 

They were trying to be sneaky about it, but Virgil could very clearly see everyone was watching him with wide, poorly hidden smiles, looking ridiculously giddy like he’d just announced he’d won the lottery. 

What the hell? 

“Uh, guys?” he asked. “Everything ok?” 

Logan was the first to speak, and Virgil wondered if he was imagining the pride radiating from the logical side. 

“Everything is satisfactory, Virgil,” he said, reaching forward and squeezing the other’s shoulder.. “Thank you for doing the dishes.” 

Before Virgil could even consider calling him back as he walked away, Patton let out a noise that could only be described as a squeal, practically flinging himself forward to envelope the anxious side in a tight hug. 

“I am just so gosh darn proud of you, kiddo!”

“I- what?” 

Even Roman was looking like he was forcibly holding himself back from joining in, and the Prince was actually bouncing on the balls of his feet, smiling so wide Virgil felt something in his stomach swoop. 

“Give him some space, Patton,” Logan spoke up, having stopped to watch from the doorway. “You responded extremely well to my request, Virgil, but apologies if we overwhelmed you.” 

As Patton pulled away, Virgil once again opened his mouth to ask what on earth everyone was so happy about, before it suddenly dawned on him. 

He’d put the dishes in the wrong cabinet, a mistake that had been pointed out by another side. 

It was exactly the sort of thing that would send him into a panic, make him lose himself in a fit of frantic apologies, paranoia and anxiety rising up to choke him, to send him under a wave of regression. 

But...that hadn’t happened this time. 

It hadn’t even occurred to him to apologize. No panic, no fear, no flood of memories and guilt. Just a simple mistake that he’d quickly corrected and then promptly forgotten about. 

And he still didn’t feel the need to apologize or get out of the enclosed space. 

Huh. 

“See? I told you,” Roman said, leaned up against the kitchen counter. “We’re getting there, Stormcloud.” 

And...yeah. Virgil supposed he was right. It was slow, sometimes almost invisible, but that really didn’t matter. They were getting there.  

[ahkaahshi]

exploration [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, light degradation, dirty talk, mean-ish?? then nice dom sakusa, rough sex, orgasm denial, being stimulated in public, swearing

word count: 2.9k

overview: you wanna try new things. some of them work and some of them don’t, but it’s all a learning experience.

notes: yall my heart just went 🥺 soft sakusa 🥺 yet again (I'm rlly weak for him obviously I have no issue admitting it) but I wanted to give him a lil edge too ya feel? I rlly banged this out with my last two braincells so I hope you enjoy :)

As you wander around the large, open space in the elegant, modern art museum, heels clicking against the cold, concrete floor, your (e/c) eyes drift from one painting to the next. The steady, gentle rhythm of some, ethereal lounge music echoes around the room just under the hum of conversations taking place nearby. Though they’re speaking of things mostly foreign to you, since they’re members of a much higher society than that in which you live, you can’t help but find yourself somewhat entertained by the gossip you hear circulating amongst the women as they chat over a few too many cocktails.

Spending the evening perusing expensive artwork in such a luxurious venue, wearing a dress you hope looks fancy enough while you rub shoulders with the elite is definitely not a normal occasion in your day to day life. However, with your boyfriend’s constantly climbing popularity as a professional athlete, his name was starting to show up on more of the guest lists to exclusive events such as this exclusive art showcase you find yourself at now. While it’s interesting--to an extent--you do find yourself growing bored from time to time. Earlier, your beloved’s teammates had been around to entertain you, but they’d since left to help themselves to the open bar.

Not even moments after you let out a soft sigh and readjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, you feel a familiar vibration emanate from deep inside of you. The intensity and location of the sensation make one hand fly to your mouth to stifle a small squeal that escapes your throat while the other grips the chiffon of your dress’s skirt. Turning away from the few gazes that have fastened on you at your reaction to what seems like absolutely nothing, you look through the doorway into the next room to see your boyfriend watching you with rapt attention.

His hand is buried in the pocket of his sleek, black trousers, thumb resting atop the button of the remote he’s using to make the vibrator nestled inside of you jump to life. With the way he’s been using your desire to do more exploration in terms of kinks and sexual fantasies to keep you on the brink of an orgasm all night long, you’re starting to regret suggesting the idea of a bullet vibrator earlier today. By this point, your panties are uncomfortably wet and you’re on the verge of getting on your knees in front of the event’s other patrons and begging him to fuck you.

You’ve been holding yourself together the entire evening, even keeping your drink from spilling when he decided to turn it on right as the bartender handed it off to you, but you’ve had enough now. You figure you’ve been good enough for him to reward you, since you haven’t complained once or let on to the dirty game the two of you were playing to see who caved first and asked to go home. You don’t mind letting him win this round, since you know you’ll get what you want either way.

As nonchalantly as you can when your core is abuzz with stimulation and your stomach is clenching from the sensation, you make quick strides across the room to where he’s standing. He seems to sense what you’re about to ask him, so he turns off the vibrator and places his hand on the small of your back when you arrive at his side.

“Kiyoomi,” you whine softly, running your fingertips along the soft material of his crisp, button-up shirt he’s wearing beneath a suit jacket.

He raises a dark eyebrow at you and hums questioningly in response, waiting for you to admit defeat.

As much as you don’t want to say it, in this case, you’ll have to put your pride aside to get what you want. Reminding yourself that you’ll find a way to have your fun with him in return at a later point in time gives you some comfort as you move your head closer to his ear.

“Can we go home, baby?” you ask in a demure tone.

“Hmm? Why would you want to do that, (f/n)?” he wonders, his hand remaining annoyingly still where it rests against the back of your dress.

You refrain from letting out a sound of disapproval at his coy attitude, since you know anything you say can and will be held against you in the bedroom in this game you’re playing. Instead, you whisper, “So you can take this tiny, little thing out of me and stuff me with your big cock instead.”

That does it. His fingers grip your waist on their way to meet yours so he can interlace them and lead you back to the entrance of the museum. His teammates urge him to stay and have a few drinks with them, but he’s quick to wave them off and make a hasty exit.

When Bokuto tries to follow the two of you to persuade you to stay, Atsumu grabs his arm and puts his attempt to a halt by hissing, “The man's on a mission ta get fucked, dude. Let ‘im go.”

To that, the tall, white and black-haired man whistles lowly, nods, and heads back to the bar with his teammate for another shot.

You and Sakusa are quick to locate his car, and he unlocks it with a chirp so you can both slide into your respective seats. Before fastening your seatbelt, you lean over towards him to steal a few, long-awaited kisses from his lips that he returns with fervor, giving you a glimpse of the impatience that had apparently been dwelling within him all night long. When you run your hand over the bulge in his pants, though, he’s quick to retreat from your affection and stick his key in the ignition.

“Omi,” you cry softly, brows furrowing and lower lip protruding with dismay. With the way your core is on fire at the moment, you want nothing more than for him to at least give you some relief in the car. The fifteen minutes it’ll take for you to get home are going to be painstaking at this rate.

His dark eyes flick over to you, narrowed ever so slightly with irritation as he responds, “Being a brat isn’t going to get you what you want.” The two of you lock eyes for a long moment in a silent battle for dominance before you relent, sit back, and buckle in your seatbelt. “Good girl.”

Your body warms at the praise, and grows even hotter when he slides his hand over onto your thigh after reversing out of the parking spot and shifting back into drive. His focus doesn’t leave the street ahead as his fingers find the slit in your skirt and navigate the short stretch of skin between its peak and your valley. Instinctively, you grasp his wrist to guide him closer to your underwear, but he stops.

“Don’t touch me while I'm driving, princess,” is the firm command he utters that makes you release your grip, “You’ll distract me.”

Your fingers dig into the smooth, leather seats as you try your best to restrain yourself, but each stoplight you hit makes you squeeze your thighs together with impatience, trapping his hand between your supple skin. Since he can see how desperate you are, he prods at your clit through your soaked panties, eliciting a gentle moan from you. With the way you've been waiting for him to touch you all night, anything you can get from him feels amazing.

Though he’s being silent, he’s trying his best to contain himself at hearing the pretty sounds slipping out of your mouth and feeling how wet you are. He didn’t realize quite how worked up you were until now.

“Baby, I want more,” you utter after no more than just a few, short minutes of toying with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He scoffs, “I’m not giving you more. Can't have my leather seats getting ruined by you making a mess when you cum, dirty girl.”

You clench around the slim vibrator at his words and groan when he withdraws his fingers from between your legs. Thankfully, you can see your neighborhood come into view, and he's parking outside your house before you know it. Anticipation sends another painful throb through your walls as you unbuckle your seatbelt, dart out of the car, and hurry towards the front door.

Sakusa seems to be in less of a rush, though, since he takes his time opening the door, removing his shoes, and loosening the tie around his throat. Your tugging at his arm to lead him towards the bedroom only earns you a warning glance, so you wait a few, painfully long seconds for him to finish what he’s doing. Your patience is quickly rewarded, though, when he guides you into the room, yanks down the zipper on your dress, and pushes you onto the bed.

His lips crash against yours as you sling your arms over his shoulders to bring his body down towards yours. Each of his kisses are deep, passionate, and add more fuel to the fire that’s been burning between your legs. Feeling needier than ever, you hastily undo the buttons on his shirt while he unclasps your bra and rids you of your panties in a flash. He swallows the loud moan you release when his fingers slide into your weeping pussy to retrieve the vibrator that’s been lodged inside of you the entire night.

Your hips buck against his fingers as they slide out of you, removing the small device and tossing it aside, so he allows you a sliver of relief by rubbing his fingers coated in your essence against your clit. He watches your expressions of pleasure and the way your muscles twitch as you chase the high you’ve been after all night. The sight of you with your face flushed and eyelids squeezed shut as your lips part to utter more delightful sounds of pleasure makes his erection throb painfully in his pants.

“You poor thing,” he coos, removing his fingers from between your legs, “So desperate to get fucked. Take my pants off and I'll let you cum on my cock since you’ve been a good girl all night, but not until I say so.”

In your hazy state of mind, you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, and set to work undoing his pants. He slides his shirt off before discarding his trousers and littering your neck with more kisses as he slowly inches closer to you. You exhale breathily when you feel him slide the head of his dick from your clit down to your entrance, teasing you by remaining just outside.

“Kiyoomi!” you complain in a moment of sexual frustration, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

To this he responds harshly, “Quit whining like a little brat or else I'll fuck your mouth instead so I don’t have to listen to you.”

He sees a look of shock pass over your features like a dark storm cloud drifting in front of the sun, and he worries for an instant that he’s overstepped a boundary. But, to his relief, you rest your head back against the soft covers and breathe, “I'm sorry, baby.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises in a much gentler tone and places a peck against your sternum before lifting your hips up towards his.

A drawn-out moan spills out of your mouth as he pushes his cock inside of you, giving you the sensation of being full that you’ve so desperately been craving all evening. His gaze remains on yours, and you watch the subtle crinkle of his nose and twitch of the moles above his eyebrow that always accompany a low groan of satisfaction during moments like these. After he’s bottomed out, he allows you a moment to breathe before he begins thrusting into you rather roughly.

Any words you want to say you’re unable to form as he indulges your tight pussy, spreading your legs further with his hand so he can reach deeper and deeper inside you with each snap of his hips against yours. “Well?” he goads, his hot breath fanning across your neck and ear when he moves his head there so he can latch onto your tender skin with his teeth, “Let me hear you, baby. Now.”

You mewl loudly at the sensation of him sucking on your neck in combination with his cock hitting your cervix, sending small jolts of pleasure skittering across your skin like electricity. “Faster, please!” you manage to squeak as your hands move onto his back, fingertips pressing into his muscles, which ripple with every thrust inside of you. His skin feels unbearably hot against yours, causing beads of sweat to form on your bodies.

He obliges your request and picks up his pace until all you’re able to do is let your head roll back and moan unintelligible words while he attacks the sensitive skin on your throat. Every grunt he utters sends tingles down your spine, and you can hear his breathing become more labored whenever he starts succumbing to the satisfaction he’s reaping from being sheathed in your velvety walls while they clench deliciously around him.

Following a particularly rough thrust that nearly has you seeing stars, he mentions, “You were being so expressive about your desires earlier, princess, but you can’t even speak now? Nothing shuts you up quite like having my cock deep in your pussy, huh?” You nod in agreement, since you’re not able to form any coherent words as you rock your body against his.

After a few minutes, you feel the pressure you’ve been holding in your stomach all night long threaten to loosen up, and you whimper, since you’re right on the edge of the orgasm you’ve been waiting too long to experience. Sakusa notices the anguish etched into your features when he takes a pause from decorating your neck with love bites, and rubs your clit with precise movements, targeting your most sensitive spot.

“Cum for me like the good girl you are, princess.”

His husky command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out with ecstasy as you pull him closer to you and buck your hips against him feverishly. The feeling of your pussy pulsating around him bring him to his orgasm faster than expected, and a stream of curse words and praises fall from his mouth onto your ears. He knows you’re on birth control, so he finishes while nestled deep within your core, painting your walls with his release.

The sensation isn't one you’re used to feeling, since he often opts to pull out anyway, but you enjoy coming down from your high while he’s still inside you. Feeling that you’re still connected in the vulnerable moments that follow your sex sessions brings you a sense of comfort you didn’t know you’d been craving.

Once you’ve had some time to regain your breath, he withdraws from you and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. “How was that?” he asks as he lays down beside you and grabs a few tissues to clean up the fluids seeping out of you, onto the duvet.

“Great,” you hum softly, “I enjoyed it. How did it feel for you?”

A look of concern crosses his features as he discards the used tissues in a nearby trashcan. When he turns back to face you, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes and comments, “I’d prefer not to treat you like that.”

“Baby, I know how much you care about me. You’re not hurting my feelings; it’s just roleplaying.” A short pause in your conversation ensues as he contemplates your words while you run your fingers along his neck and jaw. “Would you be open to trying it again, maybe, or was it just not for you?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable speaking to you in that way. I didn’t like calling you a dirty girl or saying that I was gonna fuck your mouth. Seeing your face when I said that nearly made me stop.”

Upon noticing the uncertainty flickering in his dark gaze, you gently coax him to bring his face closer to yours by lightly pressing your fingers against the back of his neck. You then close the gap between your lips once more with a long kiss that you hope communicates to him at least a sliver of the immense amount of love you have for him. His hand cups the side of your face when you pull away, making you smile.

“It’s okay. We won’t do it again if it makes you uncomfortable,” you reassure him, “But will you call me a good girl and take control like that more often? I think I enjoyed that part the most.”

He nods, sending a ripple through the dark sea of waves atop his head, and presses another kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you, Kiyoomi,” you utter when he pulls away.

“I love you too, (f/n). Let’s go in the shower now.”

You let out a low murmur of disagreement and pull him closer to you so that his warm body's hovering over yours once more. Giving him a playful tug on his lower lip with your teeth, you mention, “You made me wait too long tonight for one time to be enough, baby.”

masterlist

dedications: this work is dedicated to the lovely @ohbyunhunn​ :) I hope you enjoy since you were havin a rough day ❤️ thanks for listening to all my whack ideas n supporting me anyway bb 😌

[wallwriterstuff]

Our Dearest Moments ||Alec Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: None, this is nice and fluffy

Words: 2964

Summary: A request for @royalvolturisblog    Forever is a long time to live, an occasionally a little reflection upon who we are and how we got here is needed to maintain our sanity, and decided some very important answers to equally as important questions.

Sometimes, life is not all we expect it to be. Sometimes, life is cruel. Sometimes, life is disappointing. For me? I can safely say it’s none of these things. My life had always been easy, the best of everything and wanting for nothing. As doting as he was, my father had spoilt me rotten and never let me work hard for anything, never given me life skills that most normal people would need to live a functioning, adult existence. Why would I need them? Money was not a problem for my family nor would it ever be, so why go to the hassle of building a life where a nine to five job sapped the life from me when I could, quite sustainably, simply enjoy my life to its fullest at my loving father’s expense? Why make your child work if there was no need? I would not settle for a subpar life as nothing in my life had ever been less than luxurious.

That was my life in a nutshell. It was flat screen TVs in a ginormous bedroom which would have fit some people’s houses inside it, four poster beds and every new games console, every makeup palette fresh off the manufacturers line and vacations to the most remote and lavish corners of the Earth. I never even had to ask for some of it, my father simply expected I would want things and provided them without request – as those of guilt soul are wont to do.

“Well? What do you say?” Alec asked, his lips pressing the gentlest of kisses against my shoulder. I hummed, leaning back against him.

“Forgive me, I was hardly listening to a word you said, my mind is…elsewhere.” I admitted. Alec squeezed my hips, arms widening around my waist to tighten his hold on me.

“You’re ignoring me now? How very rude. I thought we were passed this.” He chided, though his tone was more playful than scolding.

“Call it introspection.” I sighed. Alec chuckled.

“Introspection? Now that sounds dangerous. I happen to like you as you are, if you haven’t noticed.” He teased, pressing a kiss to my temple. I turned in his arms with a smile. He stood a little taller than I did but I didn’t mind; it always gave me the best angle of the soft curve of his jawline, the fullness of his lips that didn’t like to stray from my own for too long. It also gave me the perfect excuse to nestle my head against his collarbone, escape those all seeing crimson eyes of his. Alec had seen right through me from the very start.

“I happen to know, you inform me every day…you sap.” I smiled a little as he lifted a hand to play with my hair.

“Then why decide to be introspective? What is there to reflect on? What would you wish to change?” he questioned.

“I already have changed,” I pointed out, lifting my hand to play with his coven crest, “I actually work for a living now.” Alec actually laughed at that, pulling back to feign shock.

“You? Spoilt? I would never have guessed.” he teased. He wasn’t wrong. Even now my room was lavish, silks and fine fabrics and luxuries filling every corner, but at least this time I had worked for it. Being a part of the Volturi was a privilege in itself but it required hard work, it required proving your worth and working for the greater good of your species. It was rather odd, how I had turned my entire life philosophy around in the span of a few centuries. Maybe it was Alec, making me humbler and wiser. Perhaps I owed some of it to Vladimir and Stefan, who had taught me to fight for what I wanted rather than throw money at it. I could still remember that fateful day, though faces and names were murky now in my ‘old age’.

Samuel and Scott were two boys I had craved the presence of a lot in my human days, though I couldn’t honestly tell you why anymore. Perhaps it was the familiarity of money, or the comfort that came from knowing someone of your status and experience walked alongside you and understood your world view, but they were the closest friends I had for a long time. What was better than going on vacation with your friends at the closing of exam season? Rome had been beautiful, the sights enamouring and the food…I suppose it was okay – my tastebuds had changed since then. I could still vividly recall the kind of heat I wasn’t accustomed to back home, and the dazzling brightness of the sunlight that spotted my vision and made my ever blurry human memories seem even worse quality somehow. I also remembered laughter, and warmth, the kind of warmth that flooded your soul and felt like a good hug on the worst of days. It was strange, the things that stayed with you.

Then there was too much warmth. The process to immortalise one’s body came at the cost of burning the eternal soul till only a shell was left behind, petrified and cold. That was how Stefan put it at least in his usual, grim way. The memories of my time with them had most certainly been the most vivid, since I was very much a vampire by then and I could remember every little glance, every change in the tone of their voice. Those days….those days were full of anger. My doting father taken from me, my best friends none the wiser as to where I had gone and yet never once pleading on the news for my safe return as most others did for their loved ones. Through time and trial and error, Vladimir and Stefan had shown me that I had actually lost nothing in this life, only gained. I was stronger, swifter, better than any human version of myself could ever be.

Then came the gift.

It had been purely accidental at first. Another boy taken in by Stefan only to be turned (in what I would later find out was an attempt at raising a small army) was similarly gifted. He had the quite remarkable ability to make anything he touched smaller or larger, depending on what he wished it to look like, and unintentionally I had taken his gift to use for myself. He hadn’t stayed much longer after that, Vladimir and Stefan reluctant to let him part but allowing it – only because they knew the Volturi would send the Guard after an unruly newborn causing havoc. Why should they need him when they had me? They had been the ones to train my gift, an enhanced trait from my human life they had said – as I had taken what I wanted then I could do so now with startling efficiency. By the time Alec had arrived I had not truly gotten it under control, hence my confrontation with Jane.

It turns out the unruly newborn had been smarter than we thought, and the Masters’ had dispensed the Guard to see about this gifted vampire the Romanian’s had collected. At this point it had been months since we’d even seen the boy, years since Vladimir and Stefan had stolen me from Rome’s streets on one of their daring missions taking them close to Volturi territory. My gift had made me indispensable to them, though I like to believe that on some level they cared for me as a person, given all the gifts and birthday celebrations they had indulged in for me. There had been trips and movie nights all at my request, and affectionate gestures such as hugs and chaste kisses to my forehead that had lulled me into the false sense of security that I was where I ought to be.

“Your mind keeps wondering. I happen to be trying to ask you a very important question.” Alec was sounding a tad frustrated with me now and my eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, really, I just…do you ever have one of those days where you feel like you can’t escape thinking about the past? Thinking about the things that led you to this moment?” I sighed. It was perhaps a tad dramatic, perhaps even silly of me to be this distracted by such errant thoughts, but they wouldn’t leave me be. Alec stared at me for a long moment, and then he tucked a lock of stray hair behind my ear and swept me off of my feet to seat us on the sofa before our fireplace. Draped across his lap as I was, he had made me his sole focus and gave me his undivided attention now.

“I can’t say I do, so explain it to me. What are you thinking of in particular?” he questioned. My head tilted slightly, the briefest of smiles tugging at my lips.

“Demetri fixing up his nose the day we met.” I giggled. Alec snorted, eyes rolling.

“Vladimir did hit him rather hard.” He agreed. The commotion hadn’t much bothered me, my head buried too deep in my book to really be bothered by such trivial things, but then he had screamed. It was a blood-curdling kind of scream, the sort you heard in slasher movies when the victim is disposed of. It was the first time I had seen Jane’s gift in action, and the only time since I had stolen it. I had only meant to shove the menacing little blonde away from the man I had grown to see as a second father, only to accidentally set her own gift on her. She had crumpled like a straw doll, screaming all the while, and anyone else who came at me went down the same way.

Felix, Demetri and Jane just writhed on the stone floor while I tried and failed to keep Alec at bay, the mate bond I had unknowingly just set with him the moment we locked eyes preventing me from hurting him and vice versa. His mist had danced at the edges of my feet as he gave me more warnings than I was sure was customary of a Guard with his reputation until I managed to calm the raging inferno in my own mind, and douse the flames in theirs.

“Then you misted me.” I recalled, scowling at him slightly. Alec looked amused.

“You were getting rather violent,” he pointed out, “I’d merely suggested an even trade, their lives for you accompanying us to Volterra, and poor Demetri lost his nose a second time that day.” I could still recall the crunch of his skin beneath my knuckles as I vowed to never let them take me anywhere, and now two centuries on I couldn’t bear the thought of being anywhere other than in Alec’s lap. His hand skimmed my arm as I dropped my head on his shoulder.

“You think he would forgive me for that by now.” I said. Alec chuckled and kissed my forehead.

“Not in a million years, his ego is more fragile than his nose.” He murmured against my skin. I hadn’t been happy for a very long time after that. Dragged away from my home against my will and told it was all for a mate bond I hadn’t been ready to accept. I was cruel, very cruel, and I called Alec all sorts of filthy names. Neither him nor Jane had ever really done me wrong, yet still I rarely addressed them as anything other than ‘witch’ or ‘terrors 1 and 2’. I spent the majority of my days avoiding as many people as I could really, though I found Marcus to be quite calming and consequently ended up with the Masters’ more often than not. It was with their encouragement I ended up confronting my two-arch nemesis, their gentle prodding that had led me into Alec’s arms in the end.

“God I’m sure your mother would weep if she could see you now!”

“She did! She wept and pleaded with the villagers tying us to the stake until they caved her head in with stones. How about yours?”

I cringed slightly, the memory as fresh as if it had been just yesterday. Jane had looked ready to roast me that day, while Alec had cut me down to size with his words. Their mother’s fate, their deaths, they were nothing such of tragic incidents that should never have occurred, not to these two. It had triggered a memory I had thought had faded as most other human memories had, though I could see no eyes in the soft, familiar features of my mother’s face given I couldn’t remember the colour of them. She had been reaching for me in my dreams for years, that single bloodied hand protruding from the wreckage of a car only I had escaped from haunted me to this day. How far I had strayed from the woman she would have wanted me to become.

“How could you forgive me?” I asked finally. Alec raised his eyebrows.

“For punching Demetri in the face? Quite easily. I found it entertaining.” He answered.

“Not for that! For…everything else. I was nothing short of difficult and downright cruel to you.” I reminded him. Alec tilted his head, quietly making a noise of understanding. It wasn’t so long ago Alec had asked me to marry him, at least, five years didn’t seem all that long for a vampire. He shifted till I was facing him, straddling his lap and chest to chest with our noses almost touching.

“I forgave you because I loved you, even then. I didn’t see cruelty, I saw hurt that never truly healed. Our scarred hearts were made for one another, even if you weren’t ready to accept it.” He murmured.

“But all those awful names I called you…” I sighed, closing my eyes as shame ate away at my insides. Alec chuckled.

“Some were quite inventive, I’ll give you that,” he said wryly, “Y/N…you replaced every bad memory with a good one. The time you gifted me that bookmark because you knew how much I loved to read? The memory of our first walk in the Garden’s together where you taught me all about gardening and when the best time of year to plant certain flowers was. Our first kiss, the first time you held my hand even. You made the effort to make it right.” He kissed my nose sweetly before capturing my lips with his. His every kiss had been intoxicating since our very first one, the sweet taste of his mouth on mine addictive, the way his lips moved a hypnotic dance I could forever get lost in performing with him over and over. When we parted I pressed my forehead to his.

“I do love you, you know.” I swore. Alec flashed me a smile.

“I know, you impossible little brat,” he teased, tugging my hair lightly, “Now will you please listen to what I’ve been so desperately trying to ask you all day now?” My eyes rolled, but I nodded.

“Make it worth my while, baby.” I teased.

“Don’t, you know I hate when you call me that,” he warned, though his lips twitched upwards, “Y/N, my impossibly stubborn, talented little beauty. I’ve never been in doubt you love me, and I hope I’ve never given you reason to doubt that I love you just as much. You challenge and enrage me daily, yet you are also my greatest comfort and strength when I need you to be. So stop being so bloody awkward and marry me already!”

“That wasn’t a question.” I pointed out, eyebrows raising. Alec groaned exasperatedly, his head falling back against the back of the sofa. My head tilted slightly.

If my day of reflection had done anything, it was show me how far I had come. I was no longer the same spoiled little girl I had once been. I had become a protector of our kind, and my journey with Alec had humbled my tongue. I was perhaps wiser, far kinder. I had not felt worthy of the mantle before but seeing him beneath me now, my love so ardent in his affection and persistent in his showing of it, I realised I had no need to be afraid – I had proven my worth to Alec tenfold. Gripping his chin, I forced him to look at me. He looked rather frustrated.

“This is the modern era Alec,” I scolded, “I will never say yes to your proposal.”

“But-“

“Because you are going to be saying yes to mine. Marry me, Alec.” I didn’t ask, more stated it. I knew he wouldn’t say no. With another exasperated groan he shook his head.

“You do make me work for it don’t you? So long as I slip a ring on your finger I really don’t care who asks who. Fine, I’ll marry you.” He leaned in but I pressed a single finger to his lips, preventing him from kissing me. His eyebrows arched into his hairline, almost as if to say ‘what now?’.

“It’ll be a Winter wedding.” I decided. A brief smile flashed his lips upwards.

“Spring.” He retorted.

“And the bridesmaids will wear emerald green.” I continued.

“Peach.” He countered, his smile growing as I pulled my finger from his lips.

“Oh and I want diamonds Alec, they’re a girls best friend.” I grinned, our noses brushing now.

“You’ll get a cereal box ring and be happy with it for all the waiting you’ve made me do.” He huffed. I didn’t get to protest, not when he smothered my mouth with his own, both of us laughing as we let the past be and looked forward to our future instead.