#this hasn't been appreciated nearly enough

[theprophetsaid]

BRIAN TALKING ABOUT FREDDIE’S STAGE OUTFITS

It was all great. He took a lot of chances.

[undermine-the-instinct]

Can't Sleep Love

CW: Somnophilia(F! receiving), Oral(M! and F! receiving), Knotting (M), edging/orgasm denial(M! receiving), multiple orgasms( M! and F! receiving), FLUFF, NEUVILLETE IS SWEETHEART, Petnames ( love, dear, dearest,my love, etc), reader is called princess once, Smut (obviously), Husband!Neuvillette, AFAB reader, fem reader (Reader wears a dress and heels, and has a vagina and breasts), dirty talk, praise, Neuvillette is a service top leaning towards a sub, reader is a switch, Neuvillete is prim and proper--so he's clutching his pearls, sorta scandalized when reader talks nasty. Inexperienced(??Neuvillette hasn't had anyone else as a bed partner so he's still kinda new?), Reader calls him 'Villette'.

Wc: 5.3K Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Cropped art. Original art belongs to @sviteer . Support the artist please.

Neuvillette cherishes the quiet moments, like these, more than anything else.

You're both tired, you moreso, from a date night out. A lovely candlelit dinner followed by a play at the opera house. And though he held your hand through your sniffles and nodded his head sympathetically throughout the play, you knew immediately what was up when you both stepped out of the opera house to a light sprinkle.

You smiled at him, knowingly, charmingly, reaching forwards to press your lips to his cheek. And just like that the stars were out again.

And now you're home, in the bedroom, on the master bed. You fell down onto it as soon as you entered the room and haven't moved yet, even after he's exited the bathroom. It's late, after all.

Half asleep and dozing, your hands are half curled by your head, and a smile paints your face, sweet and blasé.

You are so beautiful.

He's going to take care of you.

The heels unclasp with hardly a sound; pretty little blue things you bought to match him, you had said. The dress and everything else however, he bought for you.

It makes something in his chest curl, as he carefully shimmies off your heels, as he drags his hands under the hem of your skirt to unclasp your garter belts, rubbing away the indents left there. Old, possessive feelings he thought he'd outgrown long ago.

But you are in his bed, wearing the clothes he bought for you, looking so soft and sweet there, as he rests his head on the soft plush of your thighs, breathing you in and trying not to shake with the urge to just grab you.

You always evoke these sorts of emotions from him. Something he once thought he could never understand, something to be repressed, for its unsightliness; You hold it all all up to the light and don't even flinch.

You give a little half sigh, and Neuvillette relents.

He slides your thighs apart, slowly, nudging closer to your core, swiping his long tongue over the fabric of your panties. Smooth silk and a lace pattern, the seam of your womanhood he can all  feel, but he wants to taste.

They slip off easily like they are meant to, and soon enough Neuvillette is lapping at you, smooth wet glides along your inner folds. Slick gathers under his tongue while you sigh and gasp above him, and he groans into your skin, pressing himself closer, spreading your thighs further.

"Neuvillette…? What are you, oh, archons ...." Now that won't do, he lifts his head from your skin, mouth smeared in slick, and clicks his tongue at you.

"I want to hear only my name from your lips, dear. I'm the one here with you, after all." And just the thought of them hearing; Focalor would act smug and pester him to no end, so no need. This was none of her concern nor business.

"How long have I been asleep?" 

"Not nearly long enough. I was hoping I could get you to climax whilst you still slept. Alas," he lowers himself back down, "I guess I can try another time."

He takes off his gloves, spreads your folds with his fingers and spits on your cunt, once, twice, spreading it with his tongue, before slipping a finger into your tight hole. He groans into your pussy when he feels how you flutter, the moan that leaves your lips as you fall back into the covers.

You taste sweet. It must be from the desert you had earlier. 

He thrusts his finger, feeling you clench around it, and he opens his mouth wider to have more of you, alternating between slipping his tongue in your hole alongside his fingers and sucking on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair and tug; the scalp by his horns sensitive, and heat curls in his stomach, hips twitching into a half thrust. He moans deeply, like a rumble around your clit, and you come with a cry.

He doesn't let go. He thrusts his fingers in deeper, sucking harshly around your clit, swallowing everything you have to offer. Your hands are buried in his hair, and he's practically wearing your thighs like earmuffs; the soft, thin fabric of your stockings tickle his ears, the points no doubt flushed like the rest of his face.

You came quickly, you must have been pent up. He presses a last kiss to your clit before he rises, smoothing his fingers out of you slowly– his composure threatens to snap with the happy, flushed look on your face, the way his fingers are almost pruned with how wet you are.

He licks his lips and he can still taste you, the tang of your orgasm something he could rip people apart for.

Hm. He should act with more restraint. This is not very becoming for the Chief of Justice.

But rather fitting for your husband.

Your legs snake around his hips as you draw him in, he lets you, your hands reaching to cup his face, pressing him into an open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue laps up the mess you made and he chases it with his own, you smile at the mess of it all.

"You're supposed to close your eyes when you kiss," you murmur sweetly, opening your eyes.

"And miss those precious few seconds of seeing you? I could never."

"Oh love, come now, you're going to make me blush if you keep teasing me." Yes, tease that you are, he gives a sharp nip at the thumb you swipe over his bottom lip, a pleased hum in his chest as he looks at you and you giggle.

"Good. I'd like to do much more than that."

"Oh, but of course, I'm all yours." His large hands smooth over your thighs and hips, inching the lace and ruffles of your skirt higher up.

"It's not too much?"

"I'll let you know if it is. Come now," and you tug him closer.

"I want you to make love to me."

You unbutton his top half, untie his cravat, slip the fabric of his suit over his shoulders till his skin is bare to your touch. Cool blue lines, some bold, some thin, breaking waves over the planes of his body. 

He stops your hands as you start to undress, half exposed you are already.

"It's fine. Leave it on."

"Oh? Does the Chief of Justice have a thing for half dressed debauchery?"

"Perhaps I do. Would you be willing to indulge me?" Your smile stays yet your blush deepens when he tugs down his pants and briefs, his member hard and dripping already.

"Surely you'd allow me to remove this much, it's so hot already," you whine as you strip, just enough that the fabric is over your shoulders and bunched under your breasts, nipples half hard in the low lamp light. 

His mouth waters. He mouths at your shoulder, nipping marks onto your collarbone. He feels the hitch of your breath when he slides his cock through the slick folds of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs.

"Hm? Do you like this?" He makes sure to slide his cock all along your walls, smearing himself with the fluids of your orgasm, catching himself on the rim of your hole.

"Is this good enough for you Princess?" He pulls back, taking himself in hand, slapping the fat head of his cock against your clit, a slight growl in his chest when you cry out.

"No…"

"No? How greedy. What else can I do for you, my love? Hm?" He slaps your clit again, and once more, and you whimper, delicious.

His other hand moves, cupping your breast, squeezing and massaging, pinching the hardened nipple.

"Or do you prefer this, my love?" He breathes before popping the other breast into his mouth, gently suckling, rolling the bud in his mouth.

You groan, hands coming up to his hair and pulling him face to face with you, stroking over the ponts of his ears and making him shiver.

"I prefer it when you're inside." You kiss him, silky smooth, and he shudders into your mouth, slipping his tongue inside of you. 

He slides his cock along your puffy, petal soft folds, and starts pressing himself inside. You can probably feel the stretch because you groan again, telling him to hurry the hell up.

But he's not going to hurt you with his…considerable length. He ruts into you, one slow inch at a time, till you're softer and he's seated fully. He doesn't stay still though, he grinds into you, slow enough you can open up more and get used to the feeling.

He feels the skin at the base of his cock tighten, a telltale sign of his knot beginning to swell. He has to remind himself to breathe, and focus on you.

He thrusts, but stops when you wince, feeling you tighten around him, slick and hot, so tight he's not sure whether you're clamping down on him or trying to push him out. 

"Relax,relax my love, or was it too soon?" You shake your head, sighing as you try to force your walls to soften. You must be worked up, extra sensitive from your last orgasm. 

"I-I'm fine…"

"Are you sure?" He moves again, tentative. Your eyes roll at the stretch, hands scratching at his arms and chest. He can feel how slick you are and sighs, tossing his head back.

"Yes, just go, move, please, please…"

He starts to move, fucking himself into you, hissing when you clench around him. His hands fall to the soft fat of your thighs, dimpling in his grip when he slides them further apart, angling his hips to reach deeper.

You whine, and he can feel how slick you are, feel you gushing as he slides over that spot that has you cringing away.

He lifts a thigh, over his shoulder, so he can fuck into you harder, hitting that one spot so he can feel you gush around him. He thrusts and you breathe in time, your pretty face flushed and your pretty tits bouncing with how he's fucking you, deep and fast. His cock jumps when you whine out his name.

He feels a bit stupid like this. Or rather, undone. His mind stalls, thoughts dripping slow and sweet like molasses. Your tight, warm cunt pulling him in, squeezing like a vice around him. He can't help thinking about anything else, can't help the harsh snap of his hips, the way he grinds into you.

You cry when as he does so, the length of him is no longer a problem with how wet you are, his cockhead just kissing that spot that will no doubt have you seeing stars, the slap of skin on skin loud and wet.

Your hands scramble in the sheets so he holds them down for you, entwining his fingers with yours. It helps ground him. And you smile up at him, tilting your chin up for a kiss. He indulges you, as he always has, sweet thing you are.

He's looming over you, fucking into you, deep and eager. You sigh, the drag of his cock, a hot rush of pleasure every time he fills you up. He gasps your name and you whimper in reply.

"Doing so good…Fucking me so well love." The air stutters in his chest, and he can feel his knot swell, the praise going right to his dick.

"You're so beautiful." You hum in reply, the sound so smooth and pleased it's almost a purr.

"Yeah? I am?"

"Yes, you are," he chuckles, dark and low.

"So beautiful. I'm going make you cum again, just like this, okay? You deserve it."

He's not…very experienced at this, but, for you he tries. The bulb at the base of his dick is thick and inflated, half slipping inside your cunt with every snap of his hips.

"I’m gonna cum, I'm gonna cum soon…"

"That's good, you can cum. You can cum darling, I've got you." His knot doesn't fit inside you just yet exactly, but feeling your cunt try to to take him still has his mouth watering, hips twitching out of rhythm.

His teeth drift along your collarbone, before he bites down, and you clamp on his cock and cum around him. He fucks you through it while you make a mess of the sheets, hands scrambling at his back. A growl rips itself out his throat, his teeth still buried in your flesh, marking you.

Your leg kicks out, and Neuvillette lets you yank yourself away, curling into yourself with the force of your orgasm. His hand holds his cock, his knot throbbing almost painfully, firing a heated rod in his belly. A hiss escapes his gritted teeth, while he reigns himself back in. it would’ve been nice if you could’ve taken all of him, but this was about you, not him.

His hands move to your belly, your legs and sides, soothing you and reminding you to breathe through your cries. You gasp out his name in soft pants, brow furrowed and thighs trembling. 

Slowly you uncurl from your little ball, like a flower, Neuvillette thinks, as you open yourself up to him. Your skin is blushed, from your face to your chest, ruddy and ruined.

Beautiful.

"Are you alright dear? Anything you need at all?" With a hum and a soft 'no', you wrap your arms around his neck so he can pull you up and into his lap. He tries to pay no heed to his still hard cock between the both of your bodies, thick and dripping.

"Are you satisfied, dearest?"

"Mhm…" You press lazy kisses to his jaw and he smiles, smoothing a hand over your hair.

"That's good then."

"Hmm…but what about you?"

"I'm alright dear." You roll your hips down and he groans, hips twitching up. He has to grab your waist to stop you from moving, ignoring when you whine.

"I said… I said it's alright dear." 

"But you didn't get to cum. Please?"

"Making love is not about reaching an orgasm." You pout, teary eyed and pitiful. 

"But I want to make you feel good, you do this far too often as is."

He smiles and noses your jaw, the soft skin beneath your ear and the marks he left lower.

"I'm satisfied just pleasing you dearest. I don't need much else."

You try to wiggle your hips down onto hips but he still has that steel grip on you; You whine and paw at his chest.

"Villette–!"

"You don't have to worry about pleasing me love," he pulls you down as he lays back, pulling you flush against him. Affection is warm in his chest, making his words honey and humored. 

"I'm more than fine with just this. Pleasing you is enough for me."

"Well not for me," you grumble. You pout, but then your eyes light up in a realization. He trails his hand down your spine while you think, undoing a few buttons while he's at it to feel more of your skin.

"You know…"

"Yes, love?"

"I like it when you make love to me like this Villette."

"I do too." He kisses your cheek, feeling you smile.

"You always make sure I'm satisfied."

"Of course."

"But you know what I like better?" 

"What is that, love?"

"When you cum." He sighs in exasperation, but fond when you turn his face back towards you.

"I'm being serious! That's when I'm most satisfied." 

"Well, it seems we're both in the habit of preferring to please the other."

"Hm…no. It's more selfish on my end."

"Oh? How so?" He swipes his thumb over your soft cheek, feeling you melt in his hands, putty. Your smile is more mischievous and sultry than sweet, however.

"Well, I just love it when you cum inside me, when you fill me up and fuck it all back into me when it spills out."

Your voice goes low and he swallows thickly, frowning.

"Don't be so crude dear."

"Who else am I to share my desires with if not my husband? Would you rather me go to someone else?"

"Of course not." Don't be daft, he wants to tell you. Just the idea has his hands tensing, his mouth twitching, ready for a snarl. How possessive he feels over you. How right it feels to be so. But, he knows you're just teasing him. 

And you know it's working. Your smile is coy, as you move to take off your dress. He helps you and soon you are as bared to him as he is for you. 

You make a sight, sitting in his lap with nothing but your stockings and mussed hair, his cock stiff along your thigh.  Your earrings catch the light, twinkling like stars.

You take the hands he has on your hips and draw them up your body, drawing them up to your face where you kiss into his open palms, sighing.

"I love you." His breath catches in his throat, sticky and thick.

"I love you. And I want you. I want all of you."

"...You have me dearest." His voice goes low, soft enough that it's just a rumble in his chest. You slide your hands down his torso, lightly dragging your nails and he trembles.

"Then let me make you feel good? Please?" Your hands go below his hips, rubbing circles into his skin when he shudders.

"Love, love you don't have to–"

"Please? I want to." You lean, to whisper in his ear.

"I want to feel you. I want all of you. I want you to cum inside me and I want your knot and I want you to fuck me, Villette. Please?"

"...You are so vulgar."

"But you love me anyways?"

He groans, covering his eyes, tossing his head back and you grin at the surrender. 

Your hands come around his cock, and he gives a little half-aborted thrust into your hands. He had swelled down some in the aftercare, but he felt the growing heat in his groin and sighed, a mutter under his breath.

You have to use both your hands to wrap around his girth, your thumb just under the head of cock, pressing down on a vein there. He snarls, softly, and moves to cover your hands with his own.

"...Tighter. And faster. Like this." Your hands are so small compared to his, as he shows you. Soon you’re stroking his length, wet clicks every time you pump down, squeezing around his knot and twisting your hand around the red head of his cock, digging the pad of your finger into his dripping slit.

He bites down on his lip, tossing his head back onto the pillows. His thighs shake, and he can see the dark red tip of his shaft, wet and shiny. He wondered how much of the slick is leftover from when he was inside you. How slick it'll be when you're finished with him.

"You are so pretty, you know that?" You catch his attention with a harsh pump, twisting your hand down around his knot. His breath catches.

"When you're like this, with your pretty face and your pretty thighs and your pretty cock making such a mess in my hands. I love it." His dick jumps in your hand and he clicks his tongue at you.

"Sweet talker."

"But you like it! You're blushing, look," and your mouth curves dangerously. 

"Even your cock is blushing." He hisses your name but you laugh, moving off his lap to lay between his thighs. 

You open your mouth and let your tongue loll out. A thick bead of spit falls, right onto his tip, and you quickly gather that and spread it over his cock. He has no time to wonder what you're going to do, because you duck your head, taking one of his balls into your mouth.

You run your tongue over the delicate skin, suckly softly, before slurping the other into your mouth. His hand comes and twists into the hair of your nape and you hum, just to feel him shudder.

You move up, to the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. You drag your tongue slowly along the path of it, taking just the tip of him into your mouth. You make sure he's looking at you as you suckle softly, and when he tugs at your hair you start in earnest.

He's too big for you to take him in one swallow, so you work yourself, inch by inch. He helps you, using your hair as an anchor and rocking into your mouth, slowly, till his knot slips inside and you can feel him twitching at the back of your throat. 

It's a stretch, as usual. He's so big and so good you can't help moaning around him, high and needy, and he breaks.

His hips snap back and he slams into your mouth with a growl. You moan again and he curses under his breath, tilting your head for a better angle when he thrusts again.

He picks up rhythm, and the smooth glide of his cock on your tongue has you moaning and rubbing your thighs together, slick gathering. You want him inside, you want him to fuck you again, but more than that you want him to cum. Hard.

You don't think he's going to last long, anyways. He never has, the few times he's let you do this. Even now, his rhythm is sloppy as he fucks into your mouth, his moans going breathy and high. But that's fine, you want him like this, so you meet every thrust, sucking harder, hollowing out your cheeks and taking him as far as he can go. 

He tugs at your hair again, and you look up, meeting his eyes,the  pupils blown out and mouth open in a pant.You make sure yours are wide in faux innocence; Even fluttering your lashes when he bucks into your hot mouth again, rolling your eyes back a little. He snarls, and you feel his cock jump, the first hot spurts of cum on landing on your tongue. But before you could swallow he pulls you off, a slick pop when he leaves your mouth.

A dark growl snarls out from his clenched teeth, but he holds you in place, not letting you sink back onto him.

"Neuvillette!!" You're mad. What the hell?! Why would he do that? Not only did he pull you off of him, robbing you of his taste, he ruined his own orgasm!

His teeth are still barred, pupils blown dark and wide, diamond shaped. His chest falls and rises in harsh pants, a bit of drool at the corner of his lips, red and bitten, kiss swollen. He looks wild.

"Didnt…I didn't climax yet."

"What?"

"I didn't cum. I'm, I’m holding it..."

"Wait, what? Why?" Why? You want to demand your answers, you want him back in your mouth or your cunt, but he moves before you do.

His hand is still on your nape, and he doesn't talk, just uses it to drag you up and over his body, so he can kiss you. His tongue sweeps the wet cavern of your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue, the roof of your mouth, your canines.

He lays back, pulling you on top of him, while you hook your leg around his waist. His hand comes under your thigh, spreading you farther as he slips inside, splitting you on the first few inches of his cock. You clap onto him, sensitive still from your last two orgasms.

You rock your hips, trying to slip more and more of him inside your quivering cunt, eager and impatient. He throws his head back, exposing the pretty line and bob of his adams apple, when he feels his knot catch the rim of your entrance, the way you try to suck him in.

"Dont….Don't force yourself-"

"I can take it," you cut him off, and fuck if that doesn't make his belly tighten.

"I can take it, just help me." He meets your rocking with shallow thrusts of his own, slipping further inside you, a rush of warmth every time you gasp when he enters. 

You gasp when his knot slips past your entrance, he can feel you stretch to accommodate him and waits for you to adjust, trying to ignore the urge to just buck up into you, ans swallow everything you have to offer. He can wait.

But you’re not that patient. You lean against him and bury a whine into his shoulder when you start to move; bouncing up and down on his cock, not that he lets you go far. Neuvillette's hands clamp onto your waist, pulling you down to meet his thrusts everytime you come back down.

You can feel him, his cockhead hitting that gummy spot with every thrusts, making you shiver, eyes rolling back a little. You can feel his knot too, massaging into your walls, thick and tender. You're going to cum soon, like this.

He doesn't let you do this often. You're going to milk it for all its worth.

You give that breathless smile you know makes his heart flutter, and start whispering the things that come to your mind, the thoughts you had this evening.

How pretty he looks under you, flushed and barely holding onto decorum. How pretty he’ll look when he comes inside of you. How you've been wanting to have him all night; perhaps sneaking away and tasting him during dinner, have him fuck your mouth so you can swallow him down. Or maybe even in the opera house, in the darkness behind the curtains, have him feel how slick you were even then, how tender and eager you are.

"How lewd." He berates you, frowning but you smile wider, moaning when he traces over a sweet spot of yours, his hips drawing magic figure eights that have you gushing around him.

"Hm? And yet…you're the one fucking into me right now." You flutter your walls and he groans, but if anything, he moves faster, jaw tight like a bowstring.

You trace the line of his throat and he swallows, looking up at you where you are with just the slightest vexation, a scolding. He can't hide the desperation gleaming there though.

"Don't pretend," he hisses when you tighten, rolling his hips to get you to soften, "that I'm doing you a favor."

"But you are. I want you just like this my love." With a nudge you press him further down into the sheets, his wide eyes shot with pleasure and awe.

Your voice turns tender, sweet.

"I want you all flushed and pretty, and fucking your knot into me till you fill me up with your cum, okay?"

"Oh fuck," you feel him twitch inside you and shudder, lifting your hips and bouncing down on him, pulling his hair a little. 

You move, sliding off of him with a slick pop, before slamming back down in a single thrust, arching your back in that way you know he likes. His hands scramble at your back, a moan wracking in his chest.

"Love you, love you, ah fuck I love you," you moan against his mouth, the messy sweep of his tongue. You grind down just to feel his knot tighten inside of you, fluttering your walls. His back arches off the bed, and he cums with a sharp gasp. 

He doesn't let you slip off of him; He presses tight against your cervix, hot spurts of cum painting your womb white. You whimper, just teetering that edge, caught on his knot and unable to move.

His belly twitches under you, breath hot and labored. A tortured moan leaves his throat as you move again, chasing your own pleasure, desperate. You smooth the hair back from his forehead, just to see the ruddy fucked out look on his face better.

“So fucking pretty. So, so good to me. Can I keep going? Just a little more, alright?” You run your hands down the planes of his chest, lean like a swimmer but more built, the quivering skin of his belly, happy trail wet with sweat and fluids.

"Please, please, let me just–" You start to slip him inside but he moves for you, laying you both on your sides and snapping his hips snug against yours. The new angle has him hitting that spot with perfect accuracy, and you gush around him, back arching. He stifles down something that sounded half whimper, half moan, and bucks into you like an animal in heat.

It's filthy, loud and wet, the way he fucks you, and so out of character for him that you’d get whiplash, if you could think of anything other than the tight curl of heat in your belly, the way your orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave.

He rolls you onto your back and slides his mouth over yours to swallow your cries, his hands scrambling everywhere-your knee, your tummy, your hips and breasts and shoulders, possessive little touches. You soak the sheets, and he rolls himself into you to tide you over, murmuring reassurances into your mouth, sliding his knee on the soft skin of your thigh. He came again, you can feel how full you are, it probably would’ve been leaking out if his knot wasn’t acting like a sort of plug. He throbs inside, pumping his hips in a sloppy rhythm.

When it wanes you groan, smoothing your hands down the column of his spine. He moves to your neck and chest, nibbling and sucking marks into your skin.

“Hm…That was nice.” You wince when he slips out, and yeah, you can feel his cum rush out of you, the feeling is too open and not welcome.

“You certainly let loose. You must have been pent up, huh?”

“Oh shush you,” He kisses along your jaw and cheek, seeking out affection. Your foot slides along his calf, soothing, calming him down.

”Still, we should do this more often.”

“You’ll be spoiled if I indulge you too much. It’s best we show restraint.”

“Hm, I could see your point. But, if we do this more often we can get to the point where I can take your knot more easily and–” He kisses you to cut you off, and before you can reply he has you scooped up in his arms, sliding off the bed and heading towards the bath.

“Your mouth is so vulgar; I don't understand how your mouth filters out everything but the obscene.”

“It's one of my charms. Do you not find me charming, love?” He gives you a look, up and down, and you realize you probably look a bit more than charming; Flushed and covered in his marks, his spent still leaking from your cunt. You still lift an eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

He sighs, setting you on the lip of the tub, reaching behind you to fill it. You brush his hair back from his neck as he leans in, just to press a kiss there.

“Yes. I find you charming and lovely and alluring, beautiful and damning. Though, I hope to find you clean and resting in my arms, in our bed tonight. Can we have that, my dear? I want nothing more.” 

“Well,” you know you’re blushing, like a schoolgirl with a crush, and not someone who just made love with their husband. How silly. “If you insist.” You flutter your lashes at him and he smiles, fond and adoring, rolling his eyes and pressing his lips to your temple. Your heart warms.

“I love you, Villette.”

“I love you as well. Most ardently and wholeheartedly.” 

[crownofgildedlilies]

oh, don't let your sunshine burn me!

in which: a son of hephaestus discovers a problem he can't solve. mainly, a daughter apollo who doesn't realize just how much her smiles hurt him.

pairing: leo valdez x daughter of apollo!reader

warnings: not proof read, slight cursing (otherwise, n/a)

tropes: friends to lovers, fluff, pining

word count: 3k

notes: my inaugural fic post on this blog. how special. plz enjoy. feedback is much appreciated.

Leo Valdez was going to lose his mind.

Or maybe a limb. Maybe that would get your attention. He wasn't going to pretend that he wasn't that desperate for you to turn your focus to him.

Stupid Garrett from stupid Ares. Why did he have to go and nearly get his head chopped off by Clarisse while sparring, stealing his thunder?

He should have done more than let his finger slip while hammering away in bunker nine. An exciting injury would have earned the most prized reward of your attention, for sure.

"Are you sure she's too busy?" Leo asked Will for probably four times too many to be considered casual. The blond only rolled his eyes and shoved an icepack into Leo's chest, nearly knocking him back a step, snapping him from his far too obvious admiring of you.

Even from across the infirmary, three hours into your shift, you stole the wind from his lungs. He was convinced you were a favorite of Apollo's, what with the way you glowed and lit up every room you were in.

Which is how he ended up in his current predicament. Absolutely desperate for any hint of your sunshine smile sent in his direction.

"Positive. Now, get out." Will confirmed, checking things off on his clipboard. Leo figured he was probably recording basic information like the patient—himself—had all his limbs, both eyes, ten fingers, and was practically drooling at his half-sister. Leo darted another glance across the room to you, still diligently assessing moronic Garrett from Ares who had been brain dead enough to accept Clarisse's offer of sparring.

Why were you blushing so much?

Something awful and too familiar twisted in his stomach, and all Leo could hear was Piper's voice telling him that he better make his move on you soon, because you were too sweet and too pretty to remain single much longer.

"When's her break again?" Leo asked, ignoring the way Will tipped his head back and closed his eyes, like he was praying for the strength to not hit his patient while under his care.

"And you can't ask her yourself because...?" Will prompted, dragging out the final word and forcing Leo to snap his attention towards the son of Apollo, his jaw practically open in shock.

"Because then she'll know I'm totally into her!" Leo whisper-shouted, waving his hands around as if to emphasize his point.

"You come in here everyday with a new injury asking for her to fix you up." Will pointed out, voice flat. "If she hasn't figured it out yet, I'm not sure she will. You should probably just be direct and ask her out."

Leo narrowed his eyes at Will, but on a rare miracle, he was at a loss for words. Maybe Will had a point. Leo was never exactly good at being subtle about his many, many, crushes, and if you hadn't realized he was hopelessly in love with you yet, then maybe he was safe from feeling the sting of your rejection.

"You're not going to talk to her, are you?" Will sighed, tilting his head slightly as he studied Leo, who, despite having already been given the magic remedy of an ice pack, remained perched on the side of a cot used as a medic's bed.

Leo shook his head side-to-side so quickly Will was a blur of blond hair and orange t-shirt in front of him.

"No can do." Leo said solemnly. "She's miles out of my league. Not even I'm stupid enough to think I have a shot with her."

"Well, at least Garrett isn't as oblivious as you," Will shrugged, shooting Leo a pointed look he didn't understand. The ugly feeling was back in Leo's stomach as he darted his attention towards you and the gods-damned son of Ares.

You were laughing, and Leo wasn't the cause.

Jealousy flared up in him.

You, on the other hand, were completely ignorant to the conversation occurring on the opposite side of the infirmary, far too engrossed in charismatic Garrett from Ares who was retelling the story of how Clarisse had knocked him on his ass and sent him to get bandaged up.

For a child of the war god, he was surprisingly graceful in his defeat.

"Next time, at least bring a shield with you." You smiled at Garrett, checking off the final few items on your clipboard. No major injuries towards his limbs, nor his ten fingers, neither of his eyes had been affected, and he was able to hold a proper conversation with you. "Otherwise I've got nothing else for you. Just an order to take the rest of the day easy."

"I can manage that," Garrett relented, which, for a demigod, was a pretty big ask. Taking it easy was never really an option when one of your parents was a god or goddess. "Hey, any particular reason Valdez is looking at me like he's going to send one of his inventions after me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to act casual as you turned around slightly, finding that Leo had in fact found his way into the infirmary and in fact was staring at Garrett like he might make a good snack for Festus.

You had been starting to worry, thinking that maybe he wasn't going to show up that day.

"Dunno," You shrugged, ducking your face into your clipboard so you didn't have to look at Leo, or Garrett, or Will—who was sending you a look that was both pointed and annoyed at the same time. "But you're set to go."

"Perfect," Garrett jumped off of the examination bed, acting like he hadn't been carried in by two of his half-brothers, a sly grin on his face. "You sure that's not jealousy on Valdez's face?"

"What? Why would Leo be jealous?" You were ashamed to admit you stumbled over your words, your face turning a vibrant shade of red, as you considered the implication of Garrett's words. That Leo might have been into you, enough that just the sight of you talking to Garrett might have been enough to turn his mood sour. "We're just friends."

"Sure," Garrett grinned wickedly, the kind of grin only children of Ares could ever create. The kind that told he totally didn't believe her rushed dismissal of his words. "All I want is an invitation to the wedding. Talk to you later!"

Garrett darted off before you could swat at him with your clipboard, your face flushed with embarrassment. Gods, were you really that obvious in your crush on Leo?

Sure, he came into the infirmary just about every day you were working, with some minor injury or another for you to tend to. And maybe you took a little longer to heal him than you did when Percy or the Stolls came in, were a little sweeter, but were you so transparent that even Garrett from Ares knew what you felt?

"For the love of all the gods and goddesses, would you please just go talk to him?" Will grumbled, borderline exhausted, as he appeared at your side. You jumped, nearly lost in thought, and narrowed your sunshine stare at your half-brother. "He won't leave until he gets the chance to brag to you about his latest made-up injury."

You didn't have to ask who Will was talking about. Leo was still watching you from across the room, rather impatiently. He'd managed to find a few loose bolts and washers and was currently inventing something you couldn't comprehend while he stared very pointedly at the ground by your feet, having averted his stare the moment you darted yours in his direction.

"Shut up," You mumbled to Will, but regardless you dashed off across the room with what felt like permission to engage in your favorite part of the day.

You had received Apollo's gifts of healing, not his poetic words. And every day you cursed that fact, because never could you put into words just how much being around Leo Valdez made you feel centered within yourself. It was like his very personality gave you permission to the version of you that was nearly lost to time and circumstance and the tragedy of being a Greek hero.

"What's the problem today?" You grinned, the smile your half-siblings claimed shined brightest in the camp plastered on your face almost of its own accord as you stood before Leo.

"My hand, Doc." He sighed, playing along and holding up his left hand while the right shoved the ice pack Will had already given him behind his back. You snorted a laugh, and Leo's grin broke out from the solemn facade he had attempted. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to work again if you don't help me."

"Well there's only one solution," You nodded, pretending to read something off of your clipboard—which was still filled out with Garrett's information.

"Anything you recommend is good with me," Leo leaned closer, trying to read over the edge of your clipboard, which you quickly tugged close to your body.

"Right, I've got it." You grinned, dropping your face closer to his, almost like your heart was in control of your body instead of your mind. Leo nodded, and you would have sworn you saw his gaze shoot to your lips for the briefest of seconds. "Amputation. Mr. Valdez, I'm afraid we're going to have to take your hand off."

"But, that's my pretty hand!" Leo protested, playing into your joke quickly. You couldn't even pretend to hide your smile, laughter falling past your lips just as easily as breathing.

"Then I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do for you." You shook your head, grinning widely at Leo, who was—for a guy with ADHD as severe as him—giving you his full attention. "You're free to go. I'll see you and your pretty hand at the bonfire tonight."

"Glad to hear you agree that my hand is pretty." Leo slid off of the examination bed with a grin that had you flushing and looking over the contents of your clipboard simply for something to do with your eyes. "See you later, Doc."

Waving, you sent Leo off.

Over the course of the following week, Leo had found himself at the infirmary—during your shifts only—six more times.

Three smashed fingers from equipment you knew for a fact he knew how to handle properly. One cut to his arm from a piece of scrap metal. A paper cut.

On Thursday, he came in complaining of a serious burn.

"Doc, you'll never believe it. My whole arm caught on fire."

Will hadn't let him into the infirmary, claiming that Leo needed a better lie than that to come visit, since everyone already knew he was fireproof.

Leo came back fifteen minutes later with a second paper cut. Will took his break an hour early, claiming he needed to for his sanity.

But then you didn't so much as catch a glimpse of Leo for four straight days.

You felt more than a little pathetic, jumping every time the door to the infirmary opened, hoping against hope that it would be the curly haired son of Hephaestus you so adored.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, the door opened and you couldn't stop the way your body instinctively twisted around from where you words repacking first aide kits that were left in various locations around camp.

But it wasn't Leo standing at the door, but Piper.

You weren't the closest with her, but you were friendly. So you didn't think she was there for you, at first, until you saw her talking to your half-sister Stella and pointing towards you.

"Hey," Piper's voice had an edge of seriousness to it that snagged your attention, halting your efforts of resupplying. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you."

"Okay...?" You trailed off, not sure what she could have needed from you.

"Would you be willing to talk to Leo for me? He's in Bunker Nine, convinced he's going to make some big breakthrough on whatever machine he's currently working on." Piper explained and you nodded slowly, not seeing the problem. From your conversations with Leo, he always seemed to be in the middle of some big breakthrough. "He hadn't come out in four days. It's not healthy."

You frowned, trying to recall the last time you'd seen Leo at any of the meals. And when your mind came up blank, you settled on your answer to Piper's request.

"I'll talk to him."

You had never been to Bunker Nine.

As much as you talked to Leo, pretty much everyday, it was always in yours and shared spaces. The infirmary, mainly, but every once in a while at the dining pavilion or at the camp bonfires.

But you could barely focus on any one thing in the bunker. Half-finished projects littered the space, along with countless tools, scraps, and blueprints tacked haphazardly against walls and bulletin boards.

Since it was nearly dinner, the bunker had cleared out of all but one of its occupants. Perched over a table, working so diligently he didn't hear you approach, was none other than Leo Valdez.

Without thinking of the consequences, you dropped the canvas bag you had brought with you on his worktable, startling him so much he jumped in surprise and nearly sent his latest project clattering to the floor.

"Gods!" He shouted, wide eyed and hand pressed to his chest as if he could physically calm his racing heart. You couldn't help the way you grinned, a little lopsided, wholly endeared by him. "Sorry, were you trying to kill me? Because, if so, mission almost accomplished!"

"Actually, the opposite." With a confidence you didn't really possess, you leaned against the worktable next to him and started pulling tinfoil wrapped sandwiches out of the bag. "Everyone's convinced I'm your appointed caretaker, since you don't seem to do it yourself."

Leo had the good sense to seem chastised by the glare you sent him following your words. It wasn't like he could deny it, anyways. How many times had he ended up on your patient list?

"Did Jason put you up to this?"

"Piper," You confirmed, pushing a wrapped sandwich across the table towards him. Next out of the bag was a metal bowl, the bottom slightly charred and filled with paper scraps and twigs. "Light this for me, will you, please?"

"Well, when you ask so nicely," Leo grinned, a ball of flame forming in his palm and igniting the twigs in the bowl. Without needing to be told, Leo unwrapped his sandwich and ripped off a chunk to throw into the flames.

You copied his actions. And if you made a wordless prayer to Aphrodite to ask for a little assistance, that was no one's business but your own.

"I've..." You hesitated, darting a glance to Leo before focusing on your sandwich, biting down your declaration that you've missed him in the infirmary. He had already started eating, only further proof that he had been skipping meals while holed up in the bunker. "How come you're always getting hurt, Mr. Clumsy? I thought children of Hephaestus are supposed to be good in the forges."

You would have sworn you saw Leo blush, but your attention quickly darted away from him the moment he lifted his eyes to yours.

"You sure you wanna know the truth?" Leo asked his voice a kind of serious that was almost out of character for him. You nodded, slowly, and forced yourself to meet his eye. "I've been getting hurt on purpose."

"Leo Valdez!"

"Wait, let me finish!" Leo held up his hands to defend himself from your words and your glare, the healer in your absolutely hated the fact that Leo would have done anything to intentionally cause himself harm. "I did it because I got an excuse to see you."

"What?" For a child of Apollo, you sure didn't have a way with words. Distantly, you cursed the fact that you were a gifted healer and not a poet, because you knew what Leo's words meant and yet you couldn't get your own to function. "Wait—"

"I know this sounds stupid," Leo dragged a hand through the dark, disheveled curls atop his head. "But Will wouldn't let me in to see you if I wasn't hurt! So I... maybe... lied, a little bit."

You frowned, in thought. Thinking back, you couldn't remember Leo ever actually being hurt beyond the occasional cut or scrap. You'd always been so caught up in him and his visits to notice.

"I swear I'm not weird. I just really like you." Leo winced, no doubt taking your silence in a bad way.

And you weren't one of Apollo's poetically gifted children, so you simply pressed your lips against his and hoped he got the message.

It was a short kiss, a good first kiss, you noted with no small satisfaction. Your lips tingled and your fingertips were buzzing—and Leo looked like he had just won the lottery.

"You're sweet," You smiled, a thousand watt one that maybe Leo adored as much as your half-siblings did, and nudged his sandwich closer to him. "But you're banned from the infirmary unless you're actively dying. And for real!"

Leo paused, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to create a scenario that would get him past the barrier of your totally official and absolutely within rules ban.

"I can make that happen,"

"No, you can't," You tried to shoot him a discouraging look, but your smile was far too wide to deal any real damage. "Or else I'll go to tonight's bonfire with someone else."

"Nope!" He shook his head quickly, hair bouncing with the movement and expression light with an impish grin. "You kissed me, Doc. You're stuck with me, now."

You smiled, silently deciding you wouldn't mind being stuck with him.

"That's what I thought."

Leaning over to press a second kiss to the corner of his lips, you pretended not to notice the sparks dancing in his curls.

[dduane]

BTW… re: Smut

... off my comment to this post the other day...

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say. If someone's jerking off to my erotica, then all I can do is lean back in the typing chair, smile a bit, and think, Good! I got the job done. :)

(...with the tags: #and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:) ...)

...and then noting (with affectionate amusement) some responses:

Well, troops, better get busy filling in that bingo box. 😄

Also: I have to say (while stressing that I absolutely appreciate the humor behind "shocked, shocked, scandalized...") that the dissonance is, temporally speaking, a bit ill-founded. Because while I may be best known for the Young Wizards works these days... by no means did they come first. This did.

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Granted, from the here-and-now POV of readers with access to the hot-'n'-spicy shipfic or PWP on AO3, this sort of thing (and the numerous other lights-often-off or dialogue-only sexytiems passages in the traditionally published Middle Kingdoms works) would be seen as pretty small beer: soft, non-edgy stuff. Yet in 1979 apparently there were those who found the sex and sexualities on display in The Door Into Fire arresting enough that the book got me nominated for the Astounding Award (for best new author in the field) two years in a row.

There's no question that the broadly inclusive tone set by the Middle Kingdoms books went on to affect and underlie the YW universe in very basic ways. (There've been some scholarly works written by academics who've picked up on this, so [much to my relief] this perception hasn't been just me imagining it.) But I'll grant you that those who don't know the MK novels wouldn't be in a position to make the connection. (shrug) This is just one of those things that comes of having a lot of fragmented readerships who don't know about each other... a side effect of having done a lot of different things during a career. I can also understand how not knowing about the MK works could leave people who know me only, or primarily, as someone writing for a younger readership, a little bit disoriented (or maybe concerned) when the issue of me writing openly sexual material rears its head. But that wouldn’t be a change of direction. It’d be, to some extent, more a return to form.

Anyway: I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed...) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you're willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it's to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added... let's just say nuance. 😏

Now this whole concept will doubtless horrify some of the "Eww, You're Too Old To Be Writing This Kind Of Thing, Go Get A (Home) Life" types. To which all I can say is, "...Well, good!" By and large, such folks are not my readers anyway. And as for any of them who are, and can't deal…? They need to understand that (pointing off to one side) those people over there—the various kinda-straight and pansexual and bisexual humans, and the gender-fluid fire elemental, and the otherly-gendered Dragon, and the mostly-gay ones enthusiastically shouting "We're fuckinnnng!" down the stairs—are Nita's and Kit's godparents. Without the members of that extremely mixed marriage and their increasingly extended family, there might be no Young Wizards series... not least because it was the splash made by the first of the Middle Kingdoms books that got the Errantryverse crowd in through a major publisher's door. And the series’s continued (modest but still noticeable) success through the second and third volumes kept the writing of new YW books going for a good long while.

...So. For those who may have had questions: HTH. 😀

(And now back to the unending search for a more graceful synonym for “testicles”.)

[gotham-daydreams]

Weird to say, but I think I'm pretty forgiving of Damien. Yeah, he's rude and ignores the reader, but he probably does the same to everyone else lmao. With Dick who pays careful attention to everyone, it's a betrayal that he would neglect the reader because he should have been an older sibling. Plus Damien is like ten, it's kinda hard for me to hold him accountable when he grew up without knowing better and he's just emulating older members of the family. I'm pretty sure this is how youngest sibling privilege works lol

Yeah, I completely agree! Even then, it can be difficult to know that what you're doing is wrong when you see the people you admire and respect doing the same thing.

Like you said, Damian, in reality, is probably rude to everyone else and ignores them from time to time too. Though for the sake of the "Not [ ]" series, he just so happens to ignore the reader a little more when compared to the rest of the Batfam. Which can still be chalked up to him just following the mannerisms of the family without even thinking much about it.

Regardless, neglect is still neglect and what happened to the reader still isn't right- but I do kind of agree with you that Damian probably holds the least amount of capability. He's young, and you can't really expect him to fully be aware of the effects his actions have on other people, especially when that person:

1. Hasn't expressed how negatively the whole situation has effected them, and they don't exactly appreciate their entire existence getting ignored by so many people. (Which is valid and understandable! Because how can you expect someone who's been ignoring you for so long to not only listen to you, but even acknowledge you enough to notice you have something important to say? How can you expect someone so seemingly set on ignoring you, to care? You can't. So the reader stays quiet, but it is something worth pointing out, I feel.)

2. Again, sees that everyone around them pretty much does the same thing. So it's more of a "if they're doing it, it must be for a reason, so I'll do it too" (since Dick and Bruce are also ignoring you, and Damian actually cares about both of them).

Damian is the least aware that what he did was wrong to begin with because no one told it was, and those around him almost seemed to enable that behavior by continuing to do it themself.

I'd like to believe that maybe his behavior would've changed if he knew how badly it was effecting the reader, but that's also to assume that the others wouldn't. Though who knows?

As for everyone else? They're way past old enough to know that what they're doing is wrong. The neglect as a whole was a "team effort", and even if they won't consider it that, it basically was. All of them neglected you except for Alfred, and they all did it over the course of nearly the reader's entire stay at the Manor. If anyone should've known, it should've been them, and depending on your interpretation of the situation and everything - some are more at fault for neglecting the reader when compared to others.

Especially if they seemingly didn't ignore and tried to spend time with/bond with other members of the family, but the reader just didn't make the cut time and time again.

Like you said — Dick is easily one of the worst offenders simply because he's loving and all this stuff to the Batfam, but just not to the reader —and especially when compared to Damian who was just none the wiser for the most part.

[fabulouslyflamboyant5]

The Unrighteous Knight Part 4

pairing: azriel x second archeron sister!reader

summary: when your past makes its way to your present, you have no choice but to face what you desperately tried to bury.

warning: canon typical violence, mentions of s*xual as*ult, themes of depression and su*cidal thought

word count: 1.5k

a/n: if you couldn't already tell, life hasn't been the greatest lately. writing has always been therapeutic, a comfort of sorts. so this fic has unintentionally progressed into something much darker than I intended for it to.

part one part two part three part four

The task of understanding oneself is easier said than done.

It is, in theory, a time for serendipity and unwavering resolve. Questioning is encouraged for it is sure to call forth inner peace.

In practice, you have experienced only chaos. Self-destruction of the highest level; the complete and utter repentance of self-fulfillment and appreciation.

You are destined to be happy, in the same ways your sisters were destined to be great.

And yet, you are the epitome of misery, lacking in accomplishments and cauldron blessed feats. 

Rejecting opportunities is something favored by the weak, so you aren't quite sure why you seem to be doing just that.

Standing in front of the marble lined mirror, its obsidian edges sharp and artisan crafted, you cannot help but resent everything bestowed upon you.

Immortality, oftentimes revered by mortals, is no more than monotony dragged out over eternity.

Why is it you fight, would it be so difficult to give up?

Perhaps Azriel was only acting on your own subconscious ambitions that fateful night. Had he struck the littlest bit closer, just enough to pierce the fragility of your lungs, you could be resting contently in whatever fire ridden land you are destined for.

You mistake your tears for rain, not realizing the moisture cascading down your face is a product of yourself until you focus in on the image presented within the mirror. Occurrences such as these are rare. You devour sorrow with ease, but the physical act of crying is a poison you are yet to find an antidote for. 

It's unfamiliar.

Almost as much as the thought, or impending reality, of being face to face with Azriel.

For the first time since the incident, you will be training with him again. Though Nesta did not outright mention he would be present, it would be foolish to assume her failed ministrations were not a warning.

So now, as you stand before your own reflection, crying, and cursing the universe for your creation, you wonder.

What could I be, if I were to leave this all behind?

Who may I have become, had I never been corrupted?

You imagine, for the first time in years, a better future for yourself. 

And god damn, if it isn't a wonderous thing.

You lower your hands, resting them on your womb, and let your mind go places it had nearly forgotten. The montage is blurry, like a notebook immersed in history. But it is still there. 

You’re still there.

Visions of clandestine ballrooms, all too tall bed chambers, and joyous smiles haunt your mind.

It’s supposed to be beautiful, it was beautiful.

But you know what comes next.

Chandeliers fall and their crystals scatter, a shack is built and the desperation for money has your body ravaged. 

You clutch your stomach, never as flat as your sister’s, and let your body give into the tragedy you are reliving.

The sound that you release is not one you are familiar with. 

It's primitive, wretched, horridly grievous.

Richoteing off of your bedroom walls, you claw at the pristine floor until your fingers are stained red, maimed into something else entirely. 

As your voice rises in octaves, the crystals within your room begin to tremble. You sense their clattering, feel the vibrations of their destruction as they crack into pieces too small to be made anew. 

You pay no mind to any of it. Not even when the grandiose chandelier bursts, leaving behind only linings of darkened copper. 

You raise your head so it is no longer touching the floor and admire the destruction you have caused. Crystal fragments fall and swirl across the room. Their edges, sharp and jagged, wedge themselves into your exposed skin all while your back is reserved for the larger pieces of the bunch, supplied by none other than the chandelier that once hung proudly.

You think you may be bleeding, if the crimson droplets trickling across your body mean anything, that is. And yet, you fail to register the pain of your flesh being split apart. 

A disease of the mind is what truly plagues you. Haunting you, playing out within your heart as if its curtains never even closed. And it’s ironic, because you lived it. Witnessed its rise and fall. Bathed yourself in its glory and scrubbed yourself of its grime. The curtains did close, for you were the one pulling them shut: The sole actress in the tragedy that became your life, remembered by no one, and loved by only the forgotten. 

Trembling, you reach for your lower abdomen and caress it with your hands, tracing the scarred edges of the brand burnt into you. Moving up, down, and all across, your fingers, even through leather garments, are still able to make out the shape of the word lining your lower stomach.

R…U...I…N…E…D

You were barely an adult when the hot iron made contact with your malnourished flesh. All you remember is the searing pain and sound of coins being retrieved. Your “innocence”, as the leader liked to call it, had been sold not even an hour before you received the label. Double, perhaps triple your age, the man who placed the highest bid on you is the one you wish the most misery. 

Had it not been for your own desperation, then perhaps you would still be intact. But you were impoverished, and your sisters grew desperate. No one, you are certain, knows the lengths you went to in order to bring home a salary. Even if it was only a portion of the bid, it was enough for a week’s worth of food, a testament to the nothingness you are valued at.

You have loved and you have lost, yet you have never truly grieved. How could you? A brothel is no place to rejoice, 18 is not old enough to process the crime you fell victim to.

Practically a child when you were sold off, a situation as disastrous as the one you lived though was not something you were capable of recognizing. Had you done so, you’d have crumbled. So you didn’t think of it, you buried it deep within the soil, under an oak sapling and left behind what could have been. In many ways, it did kill you. But you never quite broke. Fractured, perhaps, but you were still whole. Your edges were jagged and all light had gone out, but you still went on. 

Life, whether you wanted it to or not, still went on. 

You're sisters had one another, and you had pieces of yourself. How could you have revealed such a thing to them? Life was surely difficult enough.

You’d been raised to keep your struggles a secret, your mother conditioned it. To open up, to share such a tragedy with anyone, would be a betrayal to the one you’d been born loving, even if that feeling was never quite reciprocated.

~~~

For hours, you lay on the hard floor. Visions of wealth, poverty, and stolen mortality possess your mind. 

Your tears have been never ending and your sobs have transformed into husky whispers of shame. 

All’s cruel in love and grief, for the past will always bleed into the present. Devastation wraps her hands around your neck and you urge her to press harder, steal your breath and life with it. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing, is worth what you’ve endured.

It’s quiet, you're shaky breathing being the only sound within the room.

You hear the footsteps approaching and the door handle rattling, but pay no mind to it.  

The fading sunlight from up above bleeds through the thin curtain, panting the man within the doorframe an angelic shade of gold.

He looks like he could be your savior. Had he put his knife through your lungs, then perhaps he would have been. 

But alas, shadows dash forward and amber eyes assess the shattered crystals spread across the floor. 

You see his mouth moving, hear the syllables he is spewing, but fail to interpret any of it.

His steps grow closer and panic overtakes you. 

He wouldn’t. Surely, he wouldn't…

Scarred hands meet your shoulder and a scream tears through your already worn out throat. You are saying things, yelling things, but you don’t know what exactly.

You claw at his arms, praying they remove themselves from your entity. 

Slowly and unprecedented, he lets his hands fall to his kneeled form. In nothing louder than whispers, he calls to you. To send you further, or bring you back, you don’t quite know. 

But his eyes, those damn eyes. The same ones you’d never quite been able to walk away from, have you running right back.

taglist: @tele86 @aetherl0l @sidthedollface2 @marvelouslovely-barnes @impossibelle @chessebookgirl

[violetarks]

catch the rain, even on a sunny day!

game: danganronpa 1: trigger happy havoc/dangganronpa 2: goodbye despair

characters: togami byakuya, hinata hajime, komaeda nagito

summary: you two share these moments that feel oh so close to being in a relationship, so close yet so far.

warnings: g/n! reader, second person pov

↣ togami byakuya

what you don't expect at 11:30pm, obviously after the set nighttime where walking about the school was prohibited, is a knock at your door. you were awake, reading through a novel that you found in the library that you found interesting. when you hear the knocking, you're suspicious that it's someone attempting to take your life to escape this hell, so you take the bat set beside your door (taken from the sports equipment) and hold it at your side.

you open the door slightly, only enough to peek out and see the one and only byakuya standing at your door, in what looks like his pyjamas. you raise your brows, not seeing any murder weapon and opening the door fully.

"byakuya. it's really late, y'know..." you sigh, putting the bat away.

he notices, raised brow. "i know that. i've been unable to sleep due to our... argument earlier."

you squint your eyes at him. "what? have some insults to spray at me that you didn't think of in the cafeteria?" you scoff, crossing your arms, "i don't want to continue this shit when we should be sleeping."

"please." he grunts, rolling his eyes. you want to slam the door in his face. why is he the one giving you attitude? "i'm unable to rest due to our problem. let me in and we can speak about this properly."

you're a bit suspicious of him, but if he did try to attack you, you would be able to hold him off long enough to get help. he may be tall, but... he doesn't look like much of a fighter.

however, the look in his eyes makes you rethink. he looks... seriously irritated, or upset. you let him in, closing the door behind him. when you turn around, he's awkwardly standing there, hands in his pockets. he doesn't know where to sit.

"on the bed." you huff, walking over and taking your spot at the head. he slowly follows, sitting at the foot end of the bed and facing you. "what do you wanna' say?"

he finds it hard to talk to you now, since you're sitting right in front of him. and in your pyjamas, no less. something he hasn't seen on you before. byakuya fixes his glasses, hands on the bed as he leaned back.

"i... apologise for the things i said."

the statement makes you widen your eyes. did... you hear him right? he apologises? there's no way!

"they were uncalled for and i did not think of the consequences." he admits to you, unable to meet your eye. you are too busy staring at his red, embarrassed face to ask him about it. "i shouldn't have belittled you to the point of tears."

"shut up... i wasn't crying." you mutter out, looking at the bed sheets. "my hayfever..."

"sure." he huffs, looking back at you. he notices your troubled expression again and wipes off his smug look. "either way, i apologise. i will think about what i say before i speak, especially... to you."

you look back at him, feeling his hand rest against yours. he hums out, "i will do better."

you almost can't believe he is even saying these things. if it weren't for how hard your heart was beating, you would've guessed you were dreaming. but here he was, nearly holding your hand as he says he's sorry.

"thank you, byakuya. i appreciate your apology." you retort, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. he begins to glow pink, you notice. "it... it really means a lot that you're here right now."

your smile makes his stomach jump. he doesn't know what it is, but it's scaring him a little.

"yes, thats, um... that's good." he says, clearing his throat, "i won't speak like that to you ever again."

you chuckle, tilting your head at him. "but you talk to everyone else that way." you state.

he huffs, looking away, shoulder slightly touching yours, "i... i frankly don't care about the others. you're much more... tolerable."

you can't help but grin at his disguised compliment. you laugh a little, patting his arm, "thank you, good to know you've taken a liking to me, byakuya."

he chokes on his words, unable to find a response. after you've finished your laughter, he fixes his glasses and looks to your pillows. "shall i let you rest?"

"oh, right." you say, standing up and walking to the door. he follows behind, hand still brushing against yours. you open the door, watching him now stand in the hallway, looking at you. "goodnight, byakuya."

he goes silent, staring at you. his eyes dart from eye to eye, and you go to ask what he's thinking before he leans forward, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

when he pulls away, he sees your wide-eyed expression. you look shocked, as anyone would be in this situation. byakuya only smiles at the reaction, as if he wasn't blushing the brightest red in the world.

"goodnight. sleep well." he tells you, walking off to his room. you could never tell what he was thinking, that guy.

↣ hinata hajime

it was cold when you began walking around the island, heading towards the restaurant to eat lunch with everyone else. however, on the way there, you notice a certain somebody sitting on a nearby bench, scribbling in his notebook.

it wasn't really like him to be out on this side of the island alone, with no reason to be. that's what concerns you, making you stop your mission to get some food before akane does, and to instead see what's going on with him.

"hajime!" you call out, making your way towards him. when he looks up to see you, he almost panics, closing his notebook and hiding it under his leg. you decide not to press about it. not yet, at least. "what're you doing here? it's lunch time, and akane won't wait for us."

"i—i'm just collecting my thoughts..." he claims, watching you sit beside him. the wind blows, making his face cold as he is made highly aware of his notebook. "i didn't think anyone would be here at this time."

"well luckily i caught you." you say, smiling at him, "it's so cold out. aren't you freezing?"

"ah, well... you know, it's usually so warm, i don't bother bringing jackets out." he admits, a reasonable response. you nod your head, suddenly tugging off your thick jacket and standing up. "what're you doing, y/n?"

"hold on." you say, in front of him and tossing the jacket around his shoulders. his face is mere inches away from your chest as you heave your jacket comfortably around him. once you're finished, you clutch the front together, grinning. "are you warm now?"

his pink face says it all. you were so kind to him, but why? what did it earn you?

"what? no, no, i don't... i don't want it." he says, furrowing his brows and placing his hand over yours to push it away. you blink at his actions, keeping the jacket around him. he always seemed to be like this when you would offer something, anything to him. did he not like that? "y/n... is this really okay?"

"yes, hajime." you chuckle, feeling him gently hold your hand now. he still looked unconvinced, his frown and pointed look showing that off already. you only rolls your eyes and make sure the jacket is on properly and wouldn't slide off his shoulders.

"are you not cold?" he questions, watching you sit back down, "this jacket is a big. doesn't fit either of us."

"i'll be okay, hajime." you respond, crossing your arms, "and nekomaru gave me his spare jacket after i lost mine at the beach. so it's gigantic, but it's warm."

when you feel a heavy weight on your shoulder, you look to your side to see hajime's arm around you. he's trying to put the jacket over you as well, since there's more than enough room. his cheeks darken in colour when you stare at him.

"why're you looking at me like that? i—i don't want you to freeze." he tells you, shuffling closer to your spot. the heat he radiates is like a fireplace. with him this close, you can easily tell that he's blushing like crazy. the guy just couldn't keep a straight face. you smile. "is this okay?"

you glance at his expression once more, embarrassed. once you nod your head, hajime rests his arm around your shoulder and rubs gently, trying to warm you up. he seems a little nervous, as if you were feeling uncomfortable from his actions, but when he feels you lean in, he relaxes.

"you're nice, hajime." you say, looking at the view of the gardens in front of you, "i'm glad i met a guy like you."

"thank you..." he says, faulting when he feels your thigh touch his. you simply grin at him, making him relax further against you. you were so enticing, it made his head spin sometimes. "i'm grateful to have met you too."

"when we get outta' here, you and i should go out for dinner." you offer, seeing how he widens his eyes at the request. he definitely did not expect that, but nevertheless he nods his head. "great. i look forward to it."

hajime was the kinda' guy who didn't want to make the first move, but once you start, he gets it rolling. when you lean against him, he feels as if it's his signal to go forward. if it wasn't that, then maybe you just outright asking him out was the sign. either way, he squeezes your shoulder, pulling you taut against him.

"what were you writing about?" you question, breaking him out of his daydreaming state.

"nothing." he says, avoiding the question. you look to him, seeing the way he glances to the side to avert your eyes. "it's nothing, really."

you weren't stupid; it probably had something to do with you, right? if not you exclusively, then at least relating to you. and you would be correct, he was indeed writing about you. how you made him feel, the things you would do for him that made his heart flutter. he would never admit to it though, in fear of someone stealing the book to find out his secrets.

and he couldn't tell you, not yet. so for now, he sits beside you, holding you close and letting you talk about whatever you wanted to. as long as he was with you.

↣ komaeda nagito

"i knew you'd be here." his voice cuts through the soft waves on the shore. you turn your head, seeing the one and only weirdo himself. "you do know that dinner is coming up, right?"

you huff back, legs spread onto the sand, "i know, nagito. surely you're hungry, right?" you look over your shoulder, seeing him walk closer and set himself beside you. he copies your position, making you tilt your head at him. "how'd you know i was here?"

he gives a shrug. "i am the ultimate lucky student." he jokes, watching the waves with you, "just kidding. chiaki said she saw you walking this way."

he let it quiet down between the both of you as you don't do anything to speak up either. but the few seconds are ruined when he clears his throat.

"is there something you wanted to say to me?" you question him. although you shouldn't, you feel comfortable around nagito as much as you are with the rest of the group. while the others found the guy scary or peculiar, he was always somewhat kind to you. even though his actions were very questionable, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. luckily he hadn't attacked you yet. "why are you here, nagito?"

he gives you his usual smile. somewhat softer, if you could comment. his usual one had malice behind it, but this one? genuine, maybe. you could never tell what he was actually thinking.

"here." he says, holding out a familiar box to you. you widen your eyes, lips parting in shock. "the, uh... i found those snacks you like in the store. i thought i should bring them to you, knowing how much you miss these things."

it's true, the snack you had once mentioned in passing. how had he remembered it? did... he didn't go out looking for them, right? just for you?

"i—i..." you stutter, taking the box from his hands. he smiles a bit wider, noticing the way you perked up and stared at the box. "how did you find this? i went looking in the store when we first got here and i couldn't see these!"

a smile dawns on your own lips, looking at the cute mascot on the front of the box. nagito exhales slowly, looking to the waves now. "just snooped around, y'know? i've got pretty keen eyes." he tells you, tapping the side of his head, "and i saw that you left the group activity pretty dejected earlier. what's up with that?"

your smile falters before you sigh out, "nothing... i just can't stop thinking about this island." nagito glances to you, tilting his head. you lean your head on your arms, propped up on your knees. "i feel like we're all gonna' go crazy trying to escape. and if what monokuma said is true... what's waiting for us? in the cities and countryside?"

"don't be silly." he says, waving his hand with a smile. you look to him. "you won't go crazy. in fact, you'll all grow closer together. the ultimates have too, don't they?"

you exhale through your nose, shrugging your shoulders. "i mean, i guess so. i'm thankful for ibuki and kazuichi. their personalities always light up the room." you hum out, leaning back now. nagito copied. "but when peko started talking about her surveillance results, how there's no plausible escape, i just... it just made it set in more."

he watches as you close your eyes and bury your head into your arms. you felt so hopeless here. what were you able to do now? even with your ultimate talent, how could that help? what good did that do?

"you can't think that way, y/n." nagito claims, resting a hand on your shoulder. you lift your head up enough to see him offer a generous grin. "you are all so talented. coming together and working to solve each murder is what will help you to escape this place, right? so there's only one thing to do."

his somewhat positive attitude make you lift yourself up. he's right and you know it. you just need to work hard and make sure you keep yourself and all your friends safe. even if that can't happen... as long as some people escape, it is worth it for you.

"i guess we just need to persevere." you huff.

"that's right." he says, leaning closer to your side. your shoulders bump gently. when you don't move away, he takes that as his invitation to stay. "i'll be here to make sure you don't go crazy, 'kay? you can rely on me."

"thanks, nagito." you say, smiling at him. he feels his chest tighten. you look to the ground for a second before back at him, smiling a bit more. "i'm glad you're by my side."

your words sound sweet to him, he can't believe you've said that to him. something like him... worthy of your words? he didn't know. but he can't deny that the way you stare at him makes his heart beat faster.

"you're... you're welcome." he says, voice shaky. he places a hand on his chest, trying to calm himself. "i, um, we should probably get going, huh? to—to eat?"

you chuckle, standing up and brushing the sand off of yourself, "you're right. we should get going."

nagito stands up after you, doing the same thing. once done, you lock eyes once again. you hold the box close to yourself, excited to taste them. out of pure impulse, you lean forward, brushing a kiss against his cheek. he stiffens up, hands frozen at his sides as he feels it. you were so warm, he could feel it radiating off your face as you closed in.

when pulling away, nagito notes the smile on your face.

"let's go." you hum, nodding towards the restaurant.

once you walk off, nagito hastily follows closely behind.

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part three)🌹

Part Two 🌹🌹

Summary: You've always been kind hearted yet admirably defiant. Or that is at least one of the ways Coriolanus Snow would describe you. Ever since grade school, you have always been on the same level as him in academics and one of his few competitors for the Plinth Prize. But as tragedy struck your family, Coriolanus thought you would fall away from his life, but instead, you got even more intertwined (not to mention the complicated past knots tying your families together).

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

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what is happening. why am i doing this. why am i doing this. Coriolanus couldn't stop the parade of panicked thoughts going through his head. Each step he took was possibly another step closer to the ruin of his name and family for good. But you wouldn't tell anyone. No you wouldn't. You wouldn't right?

You weren't really in the best of states before they made it to your home, but now you seemed far to awake for his preference. If you were still in your slightly delusional state, you may not notice the cracks in his walls, the mold seeping through the ceilings, and the ever permanent stench of poverty.

You and Coriolanus have long let go hands as he let go once the realization that he was taking you to his rugged home. His hand began profusely sweating and he began walking at an increased pace due to his nerves. You were lagging behind, having to run every few meters to catch up to his long strides.

You could tell he was immensely bothered and uncomfortable with the current situation and you simply couldn't take it anymore. "It's okay Coryo, I will be fine. I really appreciate your invitation but there is no need." You say to him in the slightly chilly night air. He turns around at your words and noticed you stopped and are a bit of a ways behind him. He quickly shakes his head in disagreement and sticks his hand you toward you.

You give him a gentle smile paired with a gentle shake of your head and begin to turn around and walk home. Seeing your movement, Snow quickly rushes to your side and puts his hands on your forearms to stop you. "Really it's not that bad, I'm sure that's the worst of it and -" "I said you are coming home with me and I meant it y/n. You need one night of proper sleep." His hands still on your forearms as he turned you around in the direction of the streets leading to the Snow home.

"Will you be able to sleep?" You say quietly, barely audible. He turns to you, his handsome face confused. You take his expression as an invitation to elaborate. "This entire time you haven't said a word and seem paranoid and worried. You are fidgeting and seem to be in a battle with yourself in that head of yours. I don't wish to be a burden to you Coryo or your family. Whatever the reason may be that is worrying you, you don't need to tell me or show me. I'm going home, your gestures of kindness have been enough. You've taken care of me enough for tonight."

He stared at you for a few moments, seeming to gather his thoughts and convert them into words. No, he hasn't taken care of you enough. If he had, you wouldn't be out in the cold at who knows what hour at this point, with deep bags and a hollowed face. He wished to take care of you more now than he wished to keep his wealth (or lack there of) a secret. But then again, Coriolanus Snow couldn't just risk everything for you. He had his family and future to take care of.

But as you were waiting for him to respond, your waves of sleep deprivation hit you as you began swaying, nearly losing your balance. The boy was quick to notice and held you to steady yourself for what felt like the millionth time that night. But he wasn't complaining. He liked the feeling that he was stabilizing you. Protecting you. Saving you. And in that moment, he decided that you were worth the risk.

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The streets were empty as you and the curly blonde haired boy walked in comfortable silence. He had his arm around your waist, in fear of you falling, of course. Or that is what he would say if you objected, which you didn't. You once again were lost in your head but thinking about the moment you were in with Coriolanus made you break the silence.

"It was rebels." If Coryo was willing to trust you with whatever was waiting ahead in his home, you were willing to trust him with the truth about your mother. You felt his eyes on you but you kept your forward as you continued. "My mother's condition. The war destroyed our home so we moved with little money left. It wasn't a very big or lavish apartment but it was enough for me qnd my mom and the few staff we had left. My father was out in the districts, rebuilding his empire and wealth so we didn't see him very much. One day, my mother was moving a few objects around and the floor broke by "accidnet".

The scoff and hollowness of your voice was harshly apparent. "The floor exposed a water well, something we needed as you remember how hard it was to find clean water even years after the dark days. Everyone in the house claimed a miracle. A second one in those days." You stopped your story to gulp back emotion. Coriolanus took note as your eyes became glossy but you pushed the tears back. He wanted to stop your story if it made you uncomfortable but then again, he was trusting you with factors that made him uncomfortable, why shouldn't you do the same?

You continued "She was pregnant. I dont know if it was going to be a boy or girl, it was too early. But because of her state, we all agreed that she would have the water exclusively from the well. How they knew of her pregnancy and infiltratied our home I don't know. But about three weeks of drinking the water, she woke up in pools of blood. One from her mouth as she choked blood up but she didn't care once she saw the blood between her legs. The scream she had that day is what I hear every time she opens her mouth now in pain. That's why I threw myself into that project. I don't care about the Plinth Prize if that's what you were thinking. We all know you deserve it the most."

You wrapped up your story at the same time you both reached his home. He let go of your waist and stepped right infront of you. Both pairs of eyes looked deep into one another's. "I'm so sorry y/n. For everything and for not helping earlier. But maybe it will give you some relief that not all of us are without scars and suffering." He looked up at his once magnificent family home in shame. You followed his eyes and for the first time, took in his home. The place he ate, slept, and lived.

You noticed the deep cracks in the walls, the broken windows, and flickering lights. But even with all that, it brought a small genuine smile to your face. He trusted you. You were going to be in his home. He trusted you to be in his home. You turned your head and met his eyes with a look that made your smile vanish. He seemed upset and slightly harsh, translating to his next words.

"Why are you smiling" oh. He must think that you smiling because you were going to expose him. Once the realization hit you, you were rushing to explain. Mumbling and cutting yourself off, you explained to him that his trust brought the smile to your face. "I would never betray you Coryo. It just feels nice knowing that you trust me, I know there aren't many people on that list." You were right. The only people he truly trusted were in the shambled and barely hanging on apartment above. And you clearly trusted him with explaining the story of your mother.

He began moving towards the door, opening it up for you but you stopped infront of it and turned to him. "I know my words won't mean much and won't replace your situation, but for what it's worth, you have something most of our peers don't. Most of us had to move or renovated our apartments so much they look like a completely different one. You however, have your ancestral home. All the Snow generations have lived in the very place you do and you get to keep the tradition going. I think that's a wealth none of us can reach." You give him a shy smile with the notorious duck of your head and walked in.

He stood there for a little while, stunned. He had never thought of his breaking apartment like that before and your sincerity made his shame dissipate a slight bit. With a satisfied smile, he lead you up to his house.

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A/N: hey guys! Hope you all liked this new part!! I meant to extend into scenes into the apartment but I think I will leave it for part 4 and get this out there sooner. I hope was close enough to Croyos thought process. I know he isn't a great guy but I think in the beginning he wasn't really evil, just morally gray. So I tried to do some sort of balance idk. Anyways I'm just ranting at this point, have a great day loves❤️

@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹 @notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear 🌹

[nonstoplover]

a reason to stay ~ sebastian vettel (sv5)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: sebastian vettel x fem!reader

song inspiration: reason to stay ~ brett young

summary: just a small drabble about sebastian not wanting the love of his life to get up and leave for work in the morning

words: 2.08K

a/n: this song is literally one of my all time fave songs, brett's genius lyrics can always reach very deep into my heart. i always wanted to write about the situation depicted in the song, and when i listened to it yesterday, i accidentally looked at one of the pictures i have of seb on my wall, and i just knew that it's got to be him i write this about. this song screams sebastian vettel for me. anyway, enjoy!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb! any feedback is well appreciated!

Saturdays are Sebastian's favourite days since his retirement from Formula One. You may ask, why? It's simple. Those are the days when his wife finally doesn't have to go to work, those days he can have her all to himself. The whole damn day. And without any stupid housework coming up that she just needs to do, as it always is with Sundays.

It's not like he hasn't tried to convince her to stop working, at least for a while. Or okay, fine, just do part-time. He has enough money for them to lead a comfortable life for now. And then he – or they – will figure out the rest in time.

But she loves her job, so what can he really do? She doesn't want to stop, or even go part-time. She enjoys waking up early in the morning, sip her morning coffee while swiftly skimming through the news on her phone. She doesn't mind getting dressed and then leave for work – leaving him alone for the rest of the day, right up until she comes back in the late afternoon. It isn't nearly enough of her for him. He wants more time. He needs more.

But today isn't Saturday. Not yet. It's just a regular Friday, nothing else. One more day of suffering at home, by himself.

Sebastian softly groans to himself, trying to come up with a new idea to keep himself entertained. There are days when he just can't seem to find anything that he would enjoy doing. The days when his mind keeps on straying back to driving race cars, and almost regretting his choice to retire. But only almost. He knows it was the right decision at that very moment. He always wanted to leave the sport when he's still at the top, and who is he kidding? These past seasons he's never had a car capable to win the championship. And anyway, he wanted to spend more time with his wife finally. The only time they have for themselves, just the two of them, are the weekends, and when he was still racing, sometimes those very weekends have been taken away from them just the same. As his mind – mind you, still half asleep as he's just woken up – slowly spins with thoughts, his eyes stray to her sleeping form right next to him.

A beam of early morning sun is sneaking in through the crack in the curtain, casting a glowing, golden orange line on the pillow, leading straight to her face. She's facing him, thankfully, so the light doesn't shine right onto her closed eyelids, waking her up. She's told him so many times to be careful when closing the curtains in the evenings. It's just one of those tiny things she can not stand – waking up to the sun shining in her eyes. 'That's why there's a curtain there in the first place', he can hear the gently scolding tone of her voice in his ears still.

But as the sunlight creeps up onto her laying body, he can't help but notice how it looks just like a halo, as it makes her (y/h/c) strands glow beautifully. She looks like a real life angel – and it's only further proof to what he's already been suspecting. That she's been sent from heaven only to make his life brighter, lovelier, calmer, and in general, more perfect than he ever expected his life to ever be.

He concludes to himself that he just really likes waking up before her as it gives him the chance to watch her sleep looking so peaceful and trouble-less. It must be one of his all time favourite sights. He'll never admit it to her though, he knows well enough that she doesn't like it, when he's watching her sleep. Even when it's in the car on a long journey and they stop at a red light and he turns to find her sleeping soundly by his side. Even when it's in a hotel room that he arrived back late to from a meeting on a Saturday night of a race weekend back when he was still racing. She seems to think she looks ridiculous when sleeping, which eventually led to him having to try his best to keep all his photos of her sleeping a secret.

In the calm silence of the room he can hear all the tiniest of sounds coming from their surroundings – the birds already chirping their morning songs on the other side of the windows, the manual clocks ticking away the precious seconds. Sebastian glances at the clock as his mind registers the sound coming from it, and internally groans with a roll of his eyes as his eyes take in the time. Just five more minutes left before it goes off. He dreads that very moment. The harsh ringing of the alarm breaking the quiet and the peace, ruining everything, ruining these sweet moments he can enjoy without her knowledge.

Out of nowhere a new thought pops in his head. Maybe he could convince her to stay. He has very good ways to do just that. He can be very convincing if he wants to be, and he knows it.

She stirs in her sleep, and his eyes snap back to her face, just in case her eyes flutter open. He loves watching her wake up, even if it means that the dreaded moment came. But no, she just moves until her head rests on his shoulder and her arms over his waist, then lets out a tiny whimper – something that sounds vaguely like his name – and then continues sleeping just as calmly as she's been doing up until then. He got a few more precious minutes.

His hand softly moves to rest on her upper back, unconsciously twirling a strand of her silk-like hair around his fingers. His own eyes close lightly again, enjoying the gentle press of their heads together. If he could, he would stay like this forever.

But then the alarm clock actually goes off, making Sebastian think one or two swear words in his mind as his arm shoots out in the direction of the device to make it silent again, while shifting his head a bit to be able to see his lover better. Her fingers twitch, he can feel it on the skin of his waist, and then her eyes eventually open – just for a second, before they close again, only to repeat the same notion a few times in the following seconds. Her body fights against waking up.

A smile makes its way onto his face, just as her eyelids open for the last time, revealing those sparkling (y/e/c) orbs to him, the ones he could easily get lost in every time she flashes them at him. Her lips lazily curve similarly to his as she takes in the sight of him.

"Morning," her slightly raspy voice fills the air of their bedroom in a whisper.

"Good morning, angel."

"You been awake for long?" she tightens her arm around him for a second, making him press a peck on top of her head in return.

"No, just woke up at the alarm." Small white lies like this never hurt anyone – especially if it means he doesn't have to stop watching her sleep and take pictures of her while doing so.

Then her fingers leave his skin, and he can feel her start moving further from his body. His arm doesn't loosen though, not even a bit, trying to keep her where she's been. "I gotta make my coffee, Seb," she lets out a giggle, feeling his hold remain on her.

"No," comes his simple reply.

"What do you mean, no?" her giggle grows into a somewhat louder chuckle.

"If you have your coffee, you will just leave sooner."

"Darling, I'll have to leave sooner or later, and you know it."

"I don't want you to."

Her body shifts in his arms, resulting in two things. His arms tighten around her torso even more, and her face turns entirely towards him, to be able to gaze into his eyes deeply and comfortably.

"We've been through this, Sebastian, please," she smiles. "I have to go to work."

He pouts, eyes boring into hers with an unspoken plead.

"You're behaving like a baby again."

Her words are familiar to his ears, since not more than two mornings prior they had a conversation almost exactly the same as this one. With a sigh he lets the muscles in his face move back to their natural state, just watching her with adoring eyes. "Okay, I stop. In exchange, can I at least kiss you?

Attentive icy blue orbs snap down towards her lips just as she bites into the bottom one, the cheeky, flirty grin painted on all his features. She nods, and that's all it takes for the man to lean in, capturing her in a breathtaking kiss. He pours all his thoughts and emotions into the action, letting her feel it in the taste of his lips, in the small gasps of air leaving him, in the way his eyelashes brush against her cheek every once in a while.

He's determined.

He wants to make her get lost in the kiss like she did so many times before. To get so lost that she completely forgets where she is, what their previous conversation was about, and most importantly, what time of what day it was. He kisses her to make her think it's already Saturday.

At her still mumbled words, he admits defeat. His kisses didn't work. Not this time. With a sigh audible enough to make her feel just a tiny bit guilty, he lets his arms slacken around her and his upper body to fall down, his back reconnecting with the mattress along with the sound of a soft thud.

With the help of his arms, he presses her warm body tightly into his, entirely engulfing her in his embrace. This is all he ever wants to do.

"Seb," she mumbles against his lips after a few minutes pass by. He pretends not to hear her, just keeps on stealing the oxygen from her lungs, hoping that just these few more moments are going to be enough to get what he wants. "Seb." Her voice comes louder and more certain the second time, as she tenderly forces her hands in-between their upper bodies to apply pressure to his chest, trying to push him off of her. "I really do need to get up."

"Oh, come on, love, don't look so heartbroken. I'll be back at five," she reaches out to caress his cheek before moving her legs from where they were tangled with his all throughout the night. "It's not the end of the world."

"Maybe to you, it isn't," he grumbles, knowing just how childish he sounds right now.

She shakes her head with another giggle, cute and angelic as always, making his heart skip a beat, and all of a sudden he can't help himself, just got to steal another kiss from her lips. He crashes into her with such force that this time it's her back that thuds against the mattress, and a surprised gasp of air leaves her lungs, right into his mouth. She kisses him back with just the same passion still, getting over her surprise in a short moment.

Another few minutes pass in relative silence – only the sounds of their lips moving along each other can be heard.

"Sebastian, you can't make me late," her weak attempt comes once more not to his surprise.

"Says who?" he mumbles back without a skip, not moving the tiniest bit further away from her, instead just pressing his knee right into the space between her legs, technically sticking her to the mattress. Only when he can feel their position being secure is when he lets their lips disconnect, just to be able to properly look into her eyes with a mischievous glint. "I bet I can make what you just said a lie."

"Do you?" she raises an eyebrow, knowing full well that it's enough for him to feel challenged. And when he smells challenge, there's nothing that can stop him or make him back down.

Sebastian nods, his nose brushing against hers in the process. "I'll give you a reason to stay."

And maybe now, just this once, she can call in sick to work.

.::the end::.

taglist: formulapierre

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

[eirenical]

Hey, MLCB fandom. We've been bombarded with some amazing photoshoots today, and I've been losing my entire mind over them all day, so GUESS WHAT. You all get to suffer with me.

For reference, the photoshoots and edits that inspired this post: [Cheng Yi in white] [BTS video of Cheng Yi in white, starring the photographer arm that sent this whole thing down a difanghua path instead of just a fanghua path] [@difeisheng 's edit/compilation of Cheng Yi and Zeng Shunxi's parallel photoshoots] [@la-muerta's edit of the photographer arm that made that vision a reality]

I don't have extensive context for all of this, but Di Feisheng, Fang Duobing, and Li LIanhua have gone to an event of some kind.  Maybe it's Di Feisheng' gallery opening.  Maybe it's Fang Duobing unveiling a new invention at a huge conference.  It doesn't matter.  What matters is that they all go, and they all have to get dressed up, and the event lasts all evening and long into the night and they don't make it home until well after dawn.

They get home and Fang Duobing has been in these clothes for far too long now and he desperately needs to get out of them and shower off the excitement of the night.  There's too much of a buzz under his skin and he's been talking everyone's ears off the entire ride home and he's losing patience with himself, so surely the others must be losing patience with him as well.  He needs a chance to let the buzz of energy die down a little bit before he irritates the others past the point of being able to deal with it, so he heads off to the giant bathroom to do just that.

Li Lianhua is quiet.  Mellow.  He didn't get drunk, per se, but he's somewhere in the slightly buzzed vicinity; enough that he's floppy and tired and half in love with the world and just wants to be petted and held, something he'd gotten plenty of on the drive home, but he still wants more.

(If pushed, he might admit that he doesn't handle crowds well, that he hasn't done since his days as a child prodigy fell far behind him.  Crowds do nothing but intimidate him now, bring back memories he'd rather leave far in the past, but he wants to support his partners, even if he has to blur the world a little to get through doing it.)

Di Feisheng has been rigidly well-behaved and contained all night and remains so even after they get home.  He has his own childhood traumas and handles crowds as well as Li Lianhua does.  He doesn't appreciate being touched by strangers, even accidentally, but crowds are a necessity in his line of work, sometimes, and there's nothing to be done for it. Now that he's home, he should be able to relax, but he can't.  He won't be able to until the hypervigilance fades.  So, he doesn't really want to be alone, but his choices… he could join Fang Duobing, let that inane chatter wash over him along with the water from a hot shower, to take the edge off his nerves.  But he doesn't want to be naked right now, doesn't want to be that vulnerable until his he's no longer twitching at every errant sound. So he stays with Li Lianhua.  To make sure he doesn't do something stupid while impaired.  It wouldn't be the first time.

But Li Lianhua is just... wandering around the room.  He's wandering around the room and slowly undoing the buttons at his cuffs… his neck… all the way down his chest to reveal the half-sheer singlet underneath.  He's wandering the room, undoing his clothes and gently touching things like it's the first time he's ever seen them, in spite of having lived in this room already for nearly three years.

And something about that soft wonder on his face relaxes something in Di Feisheng, finally releases him from the coil of tension he's been wound around all night.  So he does what he always does when a moment means something more than it should.  He pulls out his camera and begins taking pictures.

Li Lianhua notices, of course, and his gentle meanderings start to become a little bit of a performance.  Not a true dance, he hasn't done that in years, not since—  Di Feisheng cuts off the thought before he can dwell on it for too long.  They'd both lost too much in the accident that had ended Li Xiangyi's career and turned Di Feisheng into a fugitive for a decade.  Tonight isn't about them.  It isn't about that.  It was about their Xiaobao's accomplishments, about realizing the dream they'd helped him bring to fruition together.  And right now, it's about Li Lianhua, and a dance that isn't a dance.  Here in this room is the one place Li Lianhua allows a spectre of his former self to rise, allows himself to enjoy being noticed, being watched.  Because it's them.  Because he enjoys when the two of them watch him, focus on him, blocking out everything else but the safety of the space they've carved out here together.

And so, Di Feisheng takes picture after picture: Li Lianhua at the window, staring out into the garden, Li Lianhua in the hallway, hand settled gracefully on the railing as though at a barre, Li Lianhua in bed, rolling around and rumpling up the sheets, half asleep already the moment he's supine among the blankets and pillows. 

And he sends each one of those pictures to Fang Duobing.

Even Li Lianhua manages to take one very shaky selfie of himself sprawled in their bed, rumpled and bleary-eyed and barely awake.  Di Feisheng sends that one, too.

It isn't more than a minute later when Fang Duobing comes sprinting down the hall, clad in nothing but his boxers, wet hair half in his face, as droplets of water drip down his chest.  He's holding his phone in front of himself like a talisman, eyes narrowed accusingly at Di Feisheng.

Di Feisheng simply smiles and slides onto the bed to pull Li Lianhua into his arms for a kiss.  By the time it's over, Li Lianhua is draped half in his lap and whimpering, pulling at the sleeves of his shirt as he tries to peel it off and mold himself around Di Feisheng's body at the same time.

Di Feishing looks back up… and smiles wider.  "I didn't want to you miss the show."

Moments later, he has a armful of very wet Fang Doubing toppling them all over into the blankets.

It's undignified.  It's clumsy.  It's ridiculous in so many ways—more giggling fits of laughter than moans of pleasure.  And Di Feisheng wouldn't trade it for anything.

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 7

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of known death eaters from one of the richest and oldest wizarding family. Are you prepared to abandon everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: lots of angst, reader and hermione are soulmates actually

Note: Apologies for the wait, life has been kicking my ass but i finally found enough motivation to write this chapter and i think its a good one 👀 i actually had this chapter outlined even before i started this story so yeah i'm glad it's finally here! i hope you enjoy and let me know what you think :)

also thanks for all the love shown on this story so far i really do appreciate all of u <33

taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich

(comment if u want to be added)

"Hermione."

You pleaded, she hasn't spoken a word to you in nearly half an hour.

"Baby, please. Say something. Look at me."

Silence.

Your girlfriend was sat at the edge of the bed, facing away from you.

"My love.." You make one final effort and relief overcomes you when Hermione finally turns around.

"Do you actually?"

Hermione blurts out and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"What?"

"Do you actually love me? Or am I just a way to past the time? You're abandoning me to serve the Dark Lord now that you have no longer have interest in me."

Deeply wounded at Hermione's accusation, you scoffed.

How could she think so little of you?

"That is not how it is and you know it. My feelings for you are true, Hermione. Everything I'm doing, I do for you."

It was her turn to scowl.

"What does that even mean? Please y/n explain to me exactly how becoming a death eater would work to my benefit." Hermione stands up, raising her voice.

She is understandably upset, losing your own temper would only do more harm.

You remained silent. Hermione's expression grows colder the longer you took to respond. You quickly stood, grabbing your wand. You could say the words 'i love you' a million times over and it still wouldn't suffice. Words aren't powerful enough to express the true contents of your heart.

You needed to show her.

Hermione watches you intently, her eyes welling up with tears, awaiting your next move.

"Expecto patronum."

You say, with a swift movement of your wand. A blue glow appears, circling the room before settling in between the two of you, the bright glow morphs into the shape of an otter.

A discovery you had made merely a few months after recognising your feelings for Hermione. Your own patronus had changed, mimicking hers.

The love you felt for her was true. The one thing you are entirely certain of.

Hermione is crying now, she doesn't attempt to hide her sobs. A sharp pain in your chest, you despised being the cause of her sadness.

You quickly made your way over, wrapping your arms around her. She knows now. You've surrendered yourself to her completely.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione's voice trembling as she suppresses another sob.

"You are the only thing that matters to me."

You admit truthfully and you feel your girlfriend's grip on you tighten.

"My parents knew this. If I don't join the death eaters, they promised that harm will come to you. I can't have that."

Hermione takes a step back to meet your gaze and you release her from your embrace. You watch as realisation overcomes her, too overwhelmed to say anything in response.

You reached out, placing your hand against her cheek, wiping away the fresh tear.

Hermione leans into your touch and you continue to hold her face in your hand as you spoke again.

"I was never afraid before I met you."

Another tear falls and Hermione shuts her eyes, her face contorts as if your honesty physically wounded her.

Your girlfriend quickly leans in, crashing her lips against yours. You kiss her back deeply.

You craved to have her lips on yours forever. If only the two of you could stay in this moment together, without the impending threat of what's to come.

"I can't lose you."

Hermione says, after disconnecting the kiss. Her hands move to grip the collar of your shirt holding you close as if you'd dissipate right then and there if she didn't.

"You won't, I swear this to you. I need you to understand that my true loyalty, it lies with you. I have no faith in the dark lord."

Hermione's gaze softens, her hand moves to the back of your neck, she runs her fingers through your hair soothingly.

You will do everything in your power to preserve what you have, you want to feel her like this until the end of your days.

"What I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane but I need you to bare with me. I have a plan." Hermione's throws you a skeptical look.

Your girlfriend was never one to be easily convinced.

You take Hermione's hand, placing a soft kiss against it peering at her. A shameless attempt to sway her.

"Do you trust me?"

Your girlfriend is not budging.

An amused expression on your face, you lean forward placing a quick peck on the corner of her mouth. You tilt your head, planting several kisses against Hermione's neck, earning a giggle from her.

Her hands resting on your shoulders she shoves you lightly and you lean back, meeting her gaze.

Hermione looks at you in a way that makes your heart flutter. In moments like this you'd be foolish to question whether the feelings you have for her are reciprocated.

She reaches up, running her hand through your hair again.

"Ofcourse I trust you."

You were sat in the great hall, picking at your food. You felt too sick to eat. After sending the owl to your parents telling them about your decision to join the Death Eaters, you basically felt too sick to do anything.

Looking across the room you find your girlfriend engaging in conversation with Harry. She seems to have felt her eyes on you as she quickly catches you staring.

You nod at her as silent reassurance and she gives you one in return. Lifting your hand up slightly, you gestured to your ring. Hermione smiles before lifting up her own hand. The bond appears, stretching from her table to yours. The light only visible to the two of you.

Quickly biting your lip to hide a smirk.

"Good girl." You mouthed jokingly, watching as Hermione rolls her eyes at you. You swear you could see a hint of blush forming across her face.

Your moment of bliss was interrupted when someone harshly places their hand on your shoulder startling you.

Blaise chuckles at your reaction setting his plate of breakfast down next to you. Pansy sits to your right and Draco joins soon after, sitting across from you. He's now blocking your view of Hermione.

"So, when is your initiation?" Blaise asks as he shoves a piece of toast in his mouth.

"My parents will decide that. I should hear back from them soon." You reply before going back to fiddling with your food.

"This is great. Things are finally changing y/n, I can feel it. It's beginning. The dark lord will rise." Pansy states and you suppress the urge to vomit all over the table.

You shift your gaze and see Draco looking just as if not more miserable than you. Head resting in his hand, he makes no effort to acknowledge the conversation.

"You alright?" You ask, nudging his arm.

He merely nods, flashing you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Just had trouble sleeping last night."

You grow more worried. You wish Draco would just talk to you.

"I know a spell that'll knock you right out. Next time you have trouble sleeping just come find me, I'll help you out."

You grimace at the obvious innuendo. Will she ever give it a rest?

"Right, thanks Pansy I appreciate that." Draco says blandly before picking at his own plate.

You watch as Pansy slumps in her seat, upset that she didn't get a bigger reaction out of him.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom."

You stood up abruptly, making your way to the Slytherin common rooms instead. You couldn't be expected to pay attention in Divination at a time like this.

You had spent the entire day in the common room, napping for half the day, the other half was spent going over every detail of your plan in your head.

It was ideally the place to be as nobody ever hangs about during school hours. You'd also ignite less suspicion hanging around there instead of your room.

Although, you had to Obliviate the Prefect that threatened to report you to Snape. Attending classes was truly the last thing on your mind.

You glanced at the clock, 8 pm. Most students should be in the great hall finishing up their dinner. You decided to head up to your dorm, you needed a change of clothes before grabbing a quick bite. Truthfully, your only objective tonight is to see Hermione again.

Making your way down, you soon noticed the stairway was empty. It was past dinner time and it didn't make sense to you that nobody was walking the halls.

You soon hear commotion coming from outside the closer you got to the front of the castle.

Speedily walking out the doors you spotted a large group of people seeming to have gathered to look at something. You begin to hear sobs and recognised that people were crying. A sudden pit in your stomach, you pushed yourself through the crowd and braced yourself for what you were about to see.

You find Harry, leaning over as he cries over Dumbledore's body. Your breath catches in your throat. The headmaster is dead.

How did this happen?

Rapidly making your way further up to the front, you soon spot your girlfriend.

"Hermione." You say, settling behind her.

She turns to look at you, wasting no time she pulls you into a hug. You wrap your arms around her as you struggled to comprehend the situation.

"Where have you been?" She whispers as she removes her arms from the back of your neck.

"I'm sorry."

The only thing you could bare to say.

Hermione doesn't question you further, she stands next to you and leans her head against your shoulder.

You watched as Harry did the same to Ginny, crying as she held him. Your own hands quickly wrapped around Hermione's waist holding her close.

You looked up, spotting the dark mark in the sky. Pansy was right, the Dark Lord has risen.

This really did feel like the beginning of the end.

The notion only urged you to pull Hermione in closer.

Professor Mcgonagall lifts her wand in the air, casting the light spell.

Everybody soon followed, Hermione lifts her wand in the air and you do the same. The dark mark in the sky disappearing, engulfed by the lights being casted at it.

"Do you think Draco would've done it?"

You were stood behind a pillar at your girlfriend's request. Awaiting the right time to approach. She insisted on convincing Harry on your behalf, you knew better than to question her.

"No, he was lowering his wand. In the end it was Snape. It was always Snape." Harry states, venom in his voice at the mention of the Professor.

Hermione begins to read from a piece of parchment and you step forward to listen. Entirely forgetting that you were supposed to be hiding.

Stopped in your tracks as Harry and Ron stare daggers at you. The dark haired boy rushes over, before you could react he had you pinned against the wall, his wand at your throat.

"Stop! Harry, she had nothing to do with it!" You hear the panic in Hermione's voice.

"Why didn't you warn us? I'm sure you knew Malfoy wanted to kill Dumbledore but you didn't say anything!" Harry threatens, his wand pushing further into your neck. You wince at the pain but refused to break eye contact.

"I knew nothing. If I did I would've stopped him."

"Look, I don't have to stand here and convince you of anything."

You grabbed his hand attempting to pry it off you but he holds you firmly in place.

"She knows! She knows about the hocruxes. She can help us. Y/n has a plan she told me it herself. Just listen to what she has to say, Harry." Your girlfriend exclaims.

Harry looks at you for a confirmation and you only raise your eyebrows. Flitting your eyes down to his hand still grabbing your shirt.

"If you'd kindly unhand me Potter, I can tell you all about it."

Harry finally removes his wand and releases you from his grip. You reach your hand up, rubbing at your neck which is now sore.

The trio listened intently as you walked them through your entire plan. You'd essentially be helping them from the inside, it was dangerous but it was a risk you were willing to take.

All 3 of them stayed silent for a moment before Harry finally speaks.

"How do you know all this?"

"Let's just say my parents aren't exactly discreet." You simply respond.

The four of you fall into a silence again.

"How can we be sure that you'll remain loyal to us once you swear your allegiance to him?"  Harry asks again, a fair question. You couldn't blame him for being skeptical.

"Yeah, why should we believe anything you say?" Ron adds.

You stared at him before answering.

"Because I'm your best shot at defeating him."

Ron is taken aback by your bluntless.

You shifted your gaze towards Hermione, taking her in as she was.

"And because I have too much to lose."

You admit earnestly.

Ron's expression shifts, though you did not recognise the look he is giving you. Perhaps it was empathy.

The ginger haired boy merely nods, before turning to look at Harry.

"Fine." The dark haired boy finally says.

You smirked knowingly. How much it pains the chosen one to turn to you for help.

"So we're in business." You quip, holding out your hand.

Harry shakes it in agreement.

[tired-biscuit]

Imagine giving General Kiba a handjob during an important meeting- 👀👀

18+ fem!reader / cw: mentions of alcohol and risk of getting caught. royalty AU. there's tension between kiba and shino in this one!!

series masterlist

mead tastes better than you thought it would.

absent-mindedly staring at the dancing flames of the fireplace that's situated right across the great table you currently sit at, you consume the honeyed drink from your glass in small sips.

fine ladies such as yourself usually don't drink alcohol in order to obtain their graceful poise and elegant speech, you know this, however ever since your father had married - sold - you off to a war general instead of a duke, or at least a nobleman who'd know how to dance and use his utensils properly, you've since abandoned that particular idea.

so you sit there; in your 'i carry my own knife strapped to my belt like some heathen, instead of using normal silverware' husband's study. the study, which he lets you in only as of late, and which you've just realized looks absolutely divine, even if its visual does come off a tad bit blurry around the edges of your sight whenever you blink.

readjusting in your chair, you drag your gaze from one end to the other. the walls are decorated with tasteful art which he definitely did not pick or hang. the furniture, made out of wood that you suspect is surely walnut, pleasantly compliments the suave style of the entire space. incense burns in one corner, smelling prominently of sandalwood. it fills your lungs with warm hints of amber and worn leather.

it's all very male, the atmosphere, and as the minutes pass, the heaviness of it turns you somewhat dozy. truth be told, you could fall asleep right then and there, with your cheek laying flat against the table, dreams riddling your thoughts in no time. especially when you'd have thickly sweet mead warming your veins throughout the entire night, and you'd already managed to slip off your shoes just a moment prior.

wiggling your toes deeper into the carpet, you let out an appreciative sigh at how the rich material brushing against your bare soles feels astoundingly more intense than usual. being tipsy is great, you discover, and the carpet is thick and in the colour of a deep maroon red; its purpose only meant to add further to the already overly-sophisticated ambience of the room that doesn't suit the wildish personality of the general at all. you suppose that it's because he hasn't been using the study for long enough yet, but who knows?

still, you don't pay much mind to the thought as the feverish shade plays with your drunken brain the moment you dip your chin down to inspect it more closely. toes tightly curling, it's like your feet are touching molten steel from how warm and soft they've suddenly gotten, and it doesn't take you long to realize that you have no way of cooling them down.

the heat sits not on your skin; it instead brings your blood to a simmer.

your husband doesn't address the weight of your foot when you rest it on top of his boot underneath the table. with his nose nearly buried in copious stacks of maps and documents all representing your thriving nation that's ruled by the iron fist of your father, kiba has been ignoring you completely for the last three hours or so in order to strategize and prepare for his next campaign.

the war is over, he's won it - that is why you're here, after all - and yet he still works and plans ahead of time to foresee the next challenge that could possibly be thrown his way. it's a trait you catch yourself feeling slightly surprised by, perhaps even fond over; one that you wouldn't necessarily appoint to a careless brute like him.

he's all different kinds of clever than what you're normally used to, you realize. when he focuses, it's rather on anticipating attacks and finding ways to efficiently counter their assisting blows, than on poetry and music and the arts and just plain literature.

you've never seen him read a book, even if there are plenty in the library downstairs and inside this study alone. much less encountered him drawing something other than charts to place his platoons and battalions of soldiers on, and the childish-looking rabbits he sometimes scribbles for you to make you smile. philosophy is almost surely a foreign term to him, all he cares about is the bite of the fight.

so perhaps that, along with all the scheming and planning he does with his stoic advisor now, proves to be the reason as to why he hadn't fussed at all and had merely brushed you off with a quick wave of his hand when you'd whispered to him that you intend to pour yourself a drink. and a second. and later, a third.

either that, or he's slowly getting used to you actually having a mind of your own, and is letting you do whatever you please with it just so that you'd let him do his job in return.

but alas, your mind is bored. terribly so.

and standing next to your chair, with his arms spread out firmly on the table and his broad shoulders slumped, he looks mighty appealing as well.

applying further pressure to his boot, you watch as the bridge of his nose scrunches slightly at the contact. he doesn't say or do anything besides knitting his brows together, but by the time you repeat the action for a second time, way more persistently at that, he finally lifts his gaze from the group of small figurines he's been obsessively rearranging all across the map, and turns to look at you instead.

the moment your husband's attention moves onto you, his military advisor clamps his mouth shut; finally ceasing his seemingly-endless assessment of the area they've chosen to put the phantom-soldiers on, and that you've been forced to listen to for the last aeon or so.

well, not exactly forced, per se. you're in here by your own decision; because you've nagged kiba about wanting to see what his line of work looks like.

so whilst you're still trying to get used to the sudden silence to fall upon the room, you give a fleeting glance to the soldier that stands across from you, now. he's tall, fair-skinned and lean. handsome but guarded, as far as you can tell, since he doesn't even look at you, much less acknowledges your presence despite that you're of noble blood.

privilege doesn't seem to matter to military men. to him, you're just another woman amongst many. a mere breeding mare, as disgusting as that sounds.

your husband used to be just like that.

"yes, princess?" the man in question asks, putting your train of thought to an abrupt halt. when you whip your head to the side so that you can look up at him, you're able to tell that he's tired almost straight away. you can hear it in the prominent drawl of his voice and see it in his eyes. he's fed-up even if he loves to work, and it makes your brow furrow with concern.

"i-i... uhm," your tongue stumbles and you fall silent for a moment as heat steadily begins to creep up your neck. if it's because of the alcohol or the sudden racing that the sugary pet name invokes in your heart, you do not know. still, you swallow hard and calm your pulse down just enough to say, "i'm sorry, i just wanted to suggest if we'd call it a night...? you seem tired and it's getting quite late anyway, and-"

your voice fades into nothing for a second time around when he chooses to move. he's slow but everlastingly robust as he sighs and plops down onto the chair that's right on your left. his body slumps against the finely-carved details in the backrest and you try to pretend that you don't notice the visible cord that pushes against his neck when he moves to stretch it from side to side. try to play ignorant at how he spreads his legs underneath the edge of the table and sits as if he comandeers the entire room.

it's probably because he does.

he rubs at his eye now, all sleepy and laggard, and uses the other one to look at you. "let me just figure out if the terrain we chose is passable, and then i promise you that we'll head straight to bed." he blinks, then. fights back a yawn because he hasn't been sleeping well for nearly a week straight. "does that sound all right?"

a blush sears your face at his words, its warmth making your cheeks feel like they're tingling as you turn away and indulge in your sudden bashfulness. he might be a smooth talker or maybe you're just drunk, but goddammit; the fact that he's actually willing to put in the effort to settle on an agreement almost regularly now, lights your entire body on fire.

you're changing him for the better day by day and your lips keep tugging upward at the corners because of it, especially when you say, "yes, that's fine by me."

"good," he mumbles, taking note of the beam before he turns his attention back towards his aloof-looking subordinate. "now, where were we, shino?"

shino, as you've just learned is the advisor's name, quirks a dark, inquisitive brow at the exchange he's just witnessed. the man before you doesn't remember his general ever acting this considerate around anyone, much less a woman.

it makes his eyes dance between you as he clears his throat. "if i may suggest," his gaze goes back and forth again, "that if the lady wishes to retire for the evening, she should be free to do so? we've still got a lot of material to go through, and disturbances like these aren't of any help when it comes to making a decision, i'm sure."

disturbances.

your heart drops right down to the pit of your stomach. the fact that the word affects you is hard to hide; embarrassment makes your face burn once more, because now you've got your husband's thigh firmly pressing against the side of yours underneath the table. his knee bounces in a quick rhythm that doesn't help calming you down, but one bump to your leg reminds you to keep your spine ramrod straight and your chin held high.

when you look at him from the corner of your eye, there's a small smile playing on his lips. and yet, his voice sounds like it's being grit out through clenched teeth as he says, "i don't know what kind of wife you've got back at home, but mine sure isn't a disturbance; as you've so kindly put it."

"i understand that, sir," shino says, his voice remaining perfectly flat, "but she-"

"the lady suggested that we should perhaps put a halt on this thing, because she can tell that i'm fed up and fucking tired," the other man cuts in, pinching the bridge of his nose with his scarred fingers. "and as far as i can tell, that's not a disturbance; it's rather affection coming from a caring spouse. besides, she has a point. what fruitful decision had ever been made by an exhausted general?"

the advisor's eyes narrow as your own shoot wide open. your heart insists on fluttering back up towards its rightful place, even as shino says, "i don't seem to recall you ever being this careful during the planning of a campaign before... usually you're more than eager to run headfirst into battle and i have to be the one stopping you."

"well, i've got more important things to consider and worry about now. much larger things are at stake," the general replies, brushing him off with a simple gesture of his hand. "now, go fetch me that book you were talking about earlier; i think i saw it in the bookcase over there by the window. after we skim it, we can call it a night so that we're all happy."

he makes it sound like an order, not a request. and sure enough, his advisor is still a soldier, so he quietly obeys as he pushes away from the table and turns his back towards you both whilst heading towards the bookcase at the other side of the room. you don't miss the subtle albeit frustrated tick in his jaw as he does so. it makes you muse.

meanwhile, kiba uses the chance to press a hasty kiss to your still-warm cheek. the sudden affection nearly makes you audibly gasp, but you're fast to stifle it down even if the mead in your belly tells you not to.

instead, you place your hand on his thigh and don't dare look into his big brown eyes as you mutter a meek, "i'm sorry."

"eh? what on earth are you sorry for, princess? you were just looking out for me, were you not?" he rasps, his voice no longer sharp, but playful. "besides, shino should be the one apologizing for acting like a stuck-up cunt towards my goddamn wife."

"oh, you can't just-" a small giggle bubbles up your throat at his blatant cursing. you're quick to cover your mouth with your other palm, but a fraction of it still manages to slip out. he can't deny it anymore; the sound jumpstarts kiba's very heart.

he doesn't tell you this, but he's growing more fond of you with each passing day. you bring sunshine and warmth into his existence by merely existing yourself. slowly figuring out a functioning dynamic that works well between you, sharing a bed and sometimes a bath, having someone to talk to late at night, receiving little signs of affection; it all makes him feel like life is worth living. like he's worth living for.

so it's no wonder why his hand cups your chin and he whispers, "so... could i perhaps get a little kiss? as a reward for being such a good husband?"

you're clearly flustered, because now you're looking at him from underneath your lashes as you mumble, "now?"

"mhmm," he purrs, draping his free arm over the backrest of your chair. "right now."

"but what if your advisor-"

"you know that book i mentioned earlier?" he interrupts, leaning in even closer. he smells like a forest; deep and rich, earthy. it titillates your senses.

"mm," is all you offer in answer. god, you're so drunk that the heat between your legs is pulsating in his presence. it's becoming almost unbearable, you feel like a whore despite that he's your husband.

he glances towards the other man in the room, whose back is still turned towards you as he keeps searching the bookshelves. "...well, i might have forgotten to mention that it's up in my bedroom because i'd been reading it just last night."

you blink, clearly surprised. "you read?"

"only when i have to." he glances across the room again before he licks his lips and says, "but the point i'm trying to make is that he's gonna be searching for it for a long while, so i think it's safe to say that a kiss would go entirely unnoticed."

you sigh at this, but succumb rather quickly. it might be because of the alcohol that's still coursing your system or because of his coaxing and urging, but by the time your lips press against his own softly, aiming for a simple peck, he's quick to immediately turn it into something deeper.

he just likes you so much. and can you blame him that he wants a little bit of loving from the person he admires, after the tough, absolutely draining week he's had? he's just so needy.

and he's also a messy kisser. your whimper is silenced when he pushes his tongue inside your mouth and licks your teeth with the swift arrogance of an assured male. he angles your head by pressing his thumb underneath your chin and sucks on your bottom lip until it starts to feel awfully tender and bruised. you can feel the slight grazing of his unnaturally sharp incisor every once in a while as he continues to taste you. it's enough to drive a woman completely mad.

especially because you can feel him hardening just underneath your palm, now. it seems that your treacherous hand had decided to act upon its own selfish desires whilst you were too busy handling his tongue in your mouth, and had inched higher up his leg until it'd finally settled on the now-prominent bulge that resides in his pants.

by the time you pull apart for air, his cock is already pushing against the buttons and there's a string of saliva connecting your panting mouths. his cheeks are flushed, brown eyes glazed as he releases his hold on your chin and swipes his thumb across your lip to get rid of the spit there.

"we shouldn't-" you start, but he silences you by wedging his thumb between your plush lips and pushing it into your mouth, right to the knuckle. you can see his pupils dilate when your first instinct is to suck on it.

"fuck, you've got such a good-lookin' mouth; but i can't... just..." he mumbles somewhat dazedly now, his voice hoarse in that appealing way that tells you he's horny out of his fucking mind, and so quick, too. he inhales a sharp breath, shaking his head as if he's trying to gather his thoughts before he focuses on you again and rasps, "just stroke it. over my pants."

when you give his advisor a sidelong glance, you're relieved to find out that he's still stubbornly searching for the book in hopes of not disappointing his superior. but unfortunately for you, your husband isn't pleased with you directing your attention on another man at a crucial time like this.

"hey... look at me, princess," he taps his fingers against your cheekbone and presses his thumb onto the flat of your tongue, making you wince in surprise when your throat tightens in answer. "i need you to stroke my cock, all right?"

all you do is grunt in response. the sound comes out muffled.

"it'll just look like we're whispering to each other. you know, as a married couple does from time to time," he inches closer, his way of speaking urgent. "i promise he won't notice a thing."

he's gotten so desperate now that he's even wrapped his hand around your own and started moving it up and down his length. when your grip tightens around his clothed cock, you watch in awe as he bites his lip to suppress a groan.

his arm is still resting on your chair's backrest when he pushes forward again and nearly covers your body from sight with his own. hunching his back, he tries to hide the way his ribcage expands whenever he sucks in breaths that grow deeper by the second. you can feel the film of sweat on his forehead when he rests it against your own.

"sir? i can't seem to find the book," shino starts. your heart nearly gives out at the sound of his voice, it's like lightning flashes throughout your every cell.

"keep lookin', i'm sure it's in there somewhere," kiba bites out immediately. all polite talk has ceased to exist.

"but-"

"that's an order, soldier."

you push his thumb out of your mouth with the help of your tongue to chide, "that doesn't seem really convincing! if he turns around, it'll-"

"look like we're gossiping," kiba persists. you nearly squeak when his fingers dig into your gown and rest on your thigh. "like a married couple; just like i've said."

"h-hey-"

"just keep going," he hisses. his eyes are so dark that it makes you fear they'll swallow you whole, and as if he can sense your growing anxiety, he forces his gaze to soften a bit before he adds, "please. you're doing such a good job and i really want this."

you're scared of getting caught because you're supposed to be representing the image of innocence, but truth be told; you're also impeccably thrilled at the same time. he feels big in your hand; fat and heavy and warm between your fingers even over the layer of fabric. every time you squeeze him over his pants, he twitches and bucks his hips right into your touch just to gain more friction.

"fuck yes, princess." every breath is ragged. "that's it... gonna make me cum so fast."

"shh! keep quiet."

it's kind of sweet, how evidently he needs you. but it's also lewd.

the things this man's libido makes him do is unbelievable. it's only been a couple of days since he's last made love to you, and here he is; with his sanity nearly crumbling down to its pillars whilst teaching you how to give him a not at all subtle, under-the-table handjob even if there's an audience nearby. you can't believe he's willing to risk his rank or fall subject to despicable rumours for just a mere touch of your hand.

either he's absolutely delirious, or he's a fool in love. but nevertheless, by the time shino at long last admits defeat and confesses he's unable to find the book; he's also sated.

and as for you; well, let's just say it's hard not to laugh at the knowledge that your husband's pants are sticky with cum when you excuse yourself from the table and he's stuck in the study, rearranging his little toy soldiers.

[averysmolbear]

Picture Perfect

CW: This is just fluff. It has an established relationship in it though but the reader is gender neutral. It's a modern AU setting. Oh, and it hasn't been proofread!

A/N: This doesn't really have a plot. It's just a cute day date kind of a piece with Reiner taking his s/o to a botanical garden. Is it slightly self ship coded? Maybe. Just a kind of slice of life, fluffy, cute moment. If you like it, please reblog and/or comment but likes are always appreciated too.

Reiner watched as you walked a few steps ahead of him. You looked so excited to be at the botanical gardens today. The sun was shining and it was just warm enough that neither of you needed a jacket. Still you had “borrowed” one of Reiner’s hoodies because you knew that you got cold – and mostly because it smelled like him and even with your boyfriend right there, it was a comforting thing to have his hoodie on. It was several sizes too big so you had the sleeves rolled up but it was so long that it almost reached your knees. Reiner couldn’t decide if your excitement right now was cuter than seeing you in some of his clothes though. But it was probably a combination of the two things, plus your smile was infectious. He couldn’t help grinning back when you looked over your shoulder at him with a wide smile of your own.

“You gonna slow down there?” Reiner asked, laughter in his voice as you looked back again. He wasn’t more than a couple of steps behind you but you turned around, starting to walk backwards. A few steps later and you started to stumble over your own two feet. Reiner, of course, was there to grab you by the waist to stop you from falling over. “See? You should’ve slowed down.”

You wrinkled your nose at your tall boyfriend, shaking your head as you looked up at him. You tried not to laugh as Reiner pulled you closer but somehow your smile seemed to grow even wider. “No, I’m just a klutz,” you countered as you got up on your tiptoes to try to steal a kiss.

He lifted you off of your feet just slightly to make it easier for you to reach, even as he bent down, pressing his lips softly to yours. It was an unnecessary gesture but Reiner loved the way you would make a soft squeaking sound whenever he picked you up. “Then you should stay close,” he said as he set you back on your feet after the brief kiss. “I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

You rolled your eyes but you couldn’t stop smiling today if you tried. When Reiner had suggested that the two of you take a trip to the botanical gardens today, you had been so excited, probably more so than your boyfriend had expected, and you hadn’t stopped smiling since the two of you had arrived. It was still fairly early spring but all of the flowers were blooming and the trees were full of green leaves. It was perfect and you had been excited to get there to take pictures and to walk around together.

Just ahead you spotted an apple blossom tree that was nearly in full bloom. The fragrant white flowers drew your attention as you slipped your hand into Reiner’s. You started to pull him toward the tree, almost tripping over your own feet again. His hand was immediately at your waist to steady you as you looked up at him with a light blush starting to paint your cheeks.

“We don’t need to rush,” he reminded you and you nodded in return. He let go of your hand and slipped an arm around your shoulders, tucking you in at his side. Reiner kept his pace slow for two reasons. First he didn’t want you to fall over in your haste to reach whatever it was that had caught your eye. And second, he cherished the idea of taking his time with you right now.

You started to slow the pace even more as you reached the tree. You spotted a bench near it that would put the tree in the perfect spot for a picture so you gave Reiner a gentle bump with your hip and nodded your head toward the bench.

“Can we sit for a couple of minutes?” you asked, looking up at him with big doe eyes since you knew he had a harder time saying no to you when you did that.

Reiner nodded and shifted your course just slightly, sitting down and pulling you down with him. “Getting tired already?” he said, his head tilted slightly as he looked down at you. He still had you firmly tucked in at his side and he had felt you snuggle a little closer once the two of you were sitting down. “Are you getting cold?”

You shook your head before resting it on Reiner. You glanced around a bit before you pulled out your phone. After snapping a few pictures of the gardens that were all around the two of you, you handed your phone to Reiner with a soft smile.

“Take a picture with me!”

The excited tone of your voice made Reiner laugh but he nodded as he took the phone and held it out at arm’s length. He was shaking his head in amusement as you reached out as best as you could to adjust where he was holding the phone. Still he let you move his arm around until you had decided that it was right where you wanted it, quickly snapping several pictures of the two of you cuddling on the bench.

Then Reiner turned his head and kissed your cheek, getting a picture of it. He started to hand the phone back until he heard you loudly protesting. He laughed as he quickly moved his arm and the phone back into position, waiting as you returned the favor. For good measure, however, Reiner made sure to kiss you before you could turn your head away and while he wasn’t sure how well the pictures he had taken of that were, he still tried his best to snap several before lowering his arm to try to pull you closer.

When you pulled away slightly after Reiner moved you so you were sitting on his lap, he frowned slightly. You rested your forehead against his and very softly giggled at the pout that you could just make out at the moment.

“What if someone sees us?” you whispered against his lips, feeling his arms tighten around you.

Reiner had slipped your phone into the pocket that was at the front of his hoodie and now held you close, shaking his head. “Don’t care,” he quickly said before he leaned in, not giving you any chance to move away. He pressed his lips firmly against yours, holding you tight against his chest. If someone saw the two of you, Reiner really didn’t care. Not while he had your soft, sweet lips pressed against his like this.

The moment was too perfect for him to want to rush it, relishing the taste of you on his tongue as he slowly eased it into your mouth. The kiss was soft and slow; his hands had slipped just under the hoodie you wore but not under the t-shirt you had on. Reiner was deliberately taking his time with it before slowly pulling away with a soft sigh, his fingers lightly brushing along a bit of your back before both of his hands came to rest on your ass.

You slowly opened your eyes, blushing. “We should keep going,” you softly said, although you sounded a little dazed. “There’s still a lot left to see.”

Reiner laughed as he let go of you, letting you slip from his lap and his grasp so he could stand up. The moment he was on his feet, however, his arm was back around you once again. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Let me know if you get tired of walking and I’ll give you a piggy-back ride the rest of the way, okay?” he said, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He could see the way you grinned at the suggestion.

“Okay,” was all you said as the two of you continued strolling down the winding path together.

[devilmaywrite]

Chris Redfield, Jake Muller, Carlos Oliviera and Piers Nivans with a shy S/O with little to no experience in romantic relationships headcannon. Reader doesn't have much age difference with the guys. Help a thirsty bitch here.

i've yet to write for resident evil and i haven't played the games in a while so if this is ooc, no it isn't <3 rbs/feedback much appreciated

Jake:

He's never really been in a relationship either. Anything in that realm has likely been kept brief and physical. So he's a little lost when he realizes he has feelings for you. But he's not entirely against pursuing you, it'll just take him a bit to work up the courage.

LOVES that you're shy because it's that much funnier to fuck with you, which he's constantly doing. He loves to tease you, poke at you, mess with your hair, etc etc. But it's all in good fun; he just likes to see you get worked up or flustered.

He's smug and it can seem like he's had years of experience because of his confidence but you'll see him stumble here and there. But he's quick to pick himself back up, most of the time anyway.

He does find some comfort in the fact that you've had little romantic experience. It makes him feel less like a fish out of water. But he'll tease you for this too because it's in his nature.

Dates with Jake are usually low-key and low-budget, not that he’s really in a bad way financially, he just prefers this over more extravagant things since that’s not really his scene. He isn’t much of a romantic though that’s not to say he isn’t loving, in his own way.

Jake is young but still immature for his age. Probably due to the shitstorm that has been his life, as he'd probably put it. So this does pose some issues that you'll have to figure out together but Jake is resistant in admitting the fact that he has flaws he needs to work on. 

He’s also not great in the emotional support aspect at first. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just that he doesn’t really know how to comfort you. On the flip side, he has a hard time coming to you with struggles of his own since he’s used to handling things on his own. So lack of communication and emotional availability are going to be common issues early on in your relationship. 

Chris: 

He's married to the job so he honestly hasn't had too much experience in the realm of romance.

He doesn't have that big of an issue with expressing this though. He figures it's best to at least be semi-transparent about it. So he's willing to try and figure it out with you! He's honestly a little relieved that you're nearly in the same boat as him.

Since you're shy, he tries to take the lead and is pretty successful. He's kind and a gentlemen (or least, he tries to be) and probably quite traditional in this aspect so expect flowers, dinner dates -- the whole nine yards. But with time, he’ll find that he prefers to just have nice date nights at home. He likes the domesticity. 

Once settled in a relationship, it's likely that you're not going to see him often. Since, like I said, he's married to the job and likely not willing to retire any time soon. 

He has a whole plethora of issues (alcoholism at some points, betrayals, his life basically being a horror movie, etc) and this can often cause a lot of problems within your relationship that he's not quite sure how to handle it since he's had little experience so this is something that you'll, again, have to figure out together. Not that he’s asking you to fix him but your support and patience is much appreciated.

He is much better with communication than Jake is but not perfect by any means. He also struggles with coming to you for emotional support at first. But he overcomes this as he gets more comfortable with you. He’s a little more apt to get physical when you need comfort; he usually just defaults to bear hugs since he’s not always the best with words. 

Carlos:

Probably has the most experience out of the 4. Nothing too long term but enough to be confident in this aspect. So he’s happy to take the lead and help you figure things out. 

Finds your shyness rather endearing and will tease you about it as well, lovingly of course. But he does try to encourage you to come out of your shell. He’s never aggressive or pushy about it though, he’ll go at your pace.

He does encourage you to be vocal about your wants and needs if that’s something you struggle with since he’s not a mind-reader, and the absolute last thing he wants to do is overstep a boundary and/or make you uncomfortable. 

Carlos is a romantic at heart and he’s a big goof, so expect some cringe-worthy but endearing jokes and pick-up lines. Dates with him are never too extravagant since that’s not really his thing either but they’re intimate and well thought out. Most of the time anyway. He also counts ordering in and watching shitty action movies a date. 

He’s more emotionally available than the two mentioned above but he’s obviously not without his flaws. He’s been through a lot and he’s trying to work through it so your support is appreciated. He’s much more communicative as well and wants there to be a mutual support system, so he’s more inclined to be vulnerable with you and he wants you to do the same. 

Piers: 

Another one that’s married to the job. He’s never had much of a chance to really explore romantically since he’s always put most of his focus into either the military or the BSAA. He’s just never really had time for it but then he met you. So he made time. 

Piers is a little shy about this himself due to his inexperience but he tries his best to open and honest about his intentions with you. Which are, of course, nothing but the best. 

He also finds your shyness endearing and will tease you about it here and there but he isn’t too mean. But he’s also extra protective of you because of it. Like Carlos, he’ll encourage you to come out of your shell and to communicate with him if that’s something you struggle with. He’d hate to accidentally make you uncomfortable. 

Also a communication king. He’s straightforward and level-headed so there’s not much that you can’t just talk out with him. 

Piers is a little on the cheesier side, much to your surprise. But he’s a sweetheart. He’s more inclined to take you simpler dates, maybe to a more secluded restaurant or café. You’ll likely end up finding a special spot that is often the default for the two of you. Though he’ll spice it up here and there. 

[whaleofatjme1920]

gahhhh i love your work sm!! perhaps reader comforting the 141 + König and Horangi if possible? something along the lines of like you were away on a mission for too long, you nearly died, they had a really tough mission, or maybe even that they just a bad nightmare </3

Task Force 141: Real World Nightmares

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: Hi love bug, I only accept 5 characters per ask so I'm only doing Task Force 141. Also thank you so so much!! I also don't,,, know about about Horangi at this moment and I'm a certified Konig hater /lh]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Captain John Price

It's hell waiting to see if you're still alive. Pacing the halls, unable to think straight and far too aggressive with anyone that even asks if he's doing alright. Price doesn't handle your life being on the line very well.

He's been waiting for correspondence from you. Hours feel like weeks. You're supposed to come back to him. He hasn't bothered to change out of his gear, not when he's posted by the door hoping you'll walk through it.

When you do? He feels the world roll from his shoulders. He holds you tight. He's not emotional in the sense of crying, I don't think any of them really would, but he does that thing where he like, chastises you for taking so long to get back to him.

He checks you over, quickly, just to make sure you don't have any life threatening wounds. You're okay, rough, but generally okay. He can't let you go, won't let you go.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

A bit more neurotic when making sure you're alright. He almost gets lost in his head when waiting for you with bated breath. The moment things start to go wrong for you, he wants to figure out plans to help and get you out. Kyle isn't so clouded by his emotions that his judgment goes to hell but he's not the best at decision making either.

Price will tell him to sit down, might argue with him just a bit, but overall, Kyle listens to Price. Price knows you'll handle yourself, and even though the situation it awful, you'll be just fine. You're slippery and intelligent. And they're working on helping you.

Kyle, naturally, is the first to actually find you in the heat of it all. Slides up beside you, thankful he's at your side while the two of you are pinned for a moment or so and all he can think of is protecting you. You look a little worse for wear, but he knows it's nothing too bad physically.

You'll both make it. Eventually, after managing a tricky escape, he holds you. He's much more affectionate and spends more than enough time saying how much he loves you but it's for good reason. He can't bear the thought of actually losing you.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Instantly wants to come get you. Hearing you've been captured makes him lose most of his rational thought. He has to be held back from just storming in. And it's not that Johnny is a bad strategist, he just really can't stand the thought of something bad happening to you when he could have been doing something rather than sitting around!

He eventually reels himself in and gets the others to come up with a plan, still working quicker than what's considered sane after getting confirmation you're 'okay.'

Coming to get you makes him feel everything all at once. He's focused on being disciplined and deadly accurate. He won't play around with your life.

Seeing you is the biggest relief. He holds you so tight, squeezes you and doesn't let you go. He's so sweet in making sure you're alright without smothering you in the same way others might.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Quite clinical! He tends to care so deeply about other people it hurts. Doesn't know when to reel in his own empathy despite hiding it so well. You hold his entire heart, and if anything happens to you, it'll break. To protect himself, but more importantly you, he needs to keep you safe.

He's got plans about everything brewing in his head. I think Ghost likes to think of every possible route in case things go wrong, and unfortunately that means he was also expecting something like this. He's on it, everyone else is on it.

You're... he's afraid you won't make it through the night once he finally gets you in his arms. He sees the loss of his loved ones flash in his eyes as he holds you when you make it out of surgery to recover. Squeezes your hand, rests near you and gives you space while also clinging so tightly to you. He knows he won't and can't live without you.

You eventually fall deeper into sleep. He watches. His eyes are stuck on you, can't look anywhere else. Won't look anywhere else. There's still a chance you won't make it. He hates that his nightmare might finally become true.

[saltymongoose]

hello! I was wondering if you got my request! if you didn't, it was basically about yandere Phobos spoiling you, getting you anything you even glance at and doesn't make you lift a finger. Your a god! let him treat you like one!

Hello Anon! :) I received this request while I was writing some other Phobos stuff a while back, but I decided to make a separate set just for this topic. Hope you like these, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! <3

Phobos Spoils the Player ft. (Phobos + The Nexus Core)

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Mentions of violence, Religious Fanaticism (from Phobos, of course))

"All-encompassing" has always been the most suitable term to use for the Director of the Nexus Core's devotion to you. It permeates every fiber of his being, with each order he gives and each action he takes being diligently carried out with you in mind. Every step forward for Nevada, every inkling of true progress contained in all of the Nexus Core's experiments that he fostered, were made in the hope of making you - his God - genuinely proud of what his life's work would become. That's not even to mention the shrine of goods and personal effects he amassed to make his worship of you that much more effective.

The effort he went through just for the chance at getting your clear approval wasn’t something to scoff at, especially since nobody in the Nexus Core could remember a time when Phobos put anyone above himself. An effort that would only intensify once he finally had a chance to show his reverence for you in person.

While you might've insisted that there's no need to make others worship you (despite how you're entirely deserving of it in his view), he'll make it clear to everyone around that you're truly something to behold nonetheless. His gentleness is nearly unmatched, and his sharp glares in response to anyone treating you without what he considers adequate respect is enough proof of this goal of his. If those in the Nexus Core call him Director, and might even refer to him as their rightful God Emperor (if they're trying to be extra nice with the hopes of getting a holiday bonus), then you should naturally be regarded as higher than that.

Until you tell him to stop, he'll make sure that his people bow their heads in respect, and generally stay out of your way. "Speak only when spoken to" was drilled into their heads days before your arrival, and the tightening of their Director's hand on the pommel of his sword is enough of a threat to adhere to that. In his eyes, you probably shouldn't be socializing with the lowly grunts of his organization anyway; you're too high up to do that.

Of course, you contradict this (as it's entirely too stifling and uncomfortable to be treated like you're some priceless gem), and the Nexus workers appreciate it. Your own exasperated, if not slightly amused, commentary on every interaction they have with their Director makes them more comfortable with being around you. Although judging by the rather harsh punishments laid out for their coworkers, it'd be best not to get too close.

However, the Nexus Core's newfound respect for you, due in no small part to how you reign Phobos in, only makes them happier to accommodate you as he asks (demands). It is at his request that you have all your necessary tasks completed by them, from cooking when you're there to even trivial things like making your bed in your suite.

(It's tedious sometimes, but so much better than what they usually have to do, so you'd be surprised by how okay with it they are.)

Really, Phobos will try to make it so you don't exactly have to do anything at all. A person as important as you deserves to have these things attended to, and he's the best person to provide you with this. He's an ever-dutiful follower with incredible, far-reaching power; who else could make it so you never have to lift a finger for anything?

Furthermore, Phobos' tendency to seek out only the finest of things hasn't been stopped by your arrival either, the only difference being that now he gives them directly to you instead of placing them on your shrine. You've never seen so many precious stones and metals in one place, and you honestly didn't know how to react when he prompted you for any jewelry you might want to be made out of it. (Since it seems he apparently just realized that you have nowhere to put them all. Unless you just stay with him from now on, which is also an option he'd highly recommend.)

It definitely took some getting used to on your part, to always have the very best of everything that Nevada could offer just handed to you without complaint. The softest of bedspreads, the highest quality of clothing, and the best food from the most lauded of chefs; no expense would be spared to give you everything your acolyte knew you deserved.

(Phobos doesn't even care if he has to...extract them from their previous places of work to get them right where they should be, just to be useful. It's an honor to serve you anyway, and the chefs should realize that quickly. For their own safety, if nothing else.)

It's also evident whenever you go out, on those occasions where you decide to spend some time exploring Nexus City (with the Director by your side, naturally). It was actually really fun; it’d been too long since you were free to go wherever you wanted. The other grunts in the city were a little perturbed but decided to ignore it. Judging by the cold glares of warning leader of their city seemed to give them when they so much as looked in your general direction, it was best left alone. But they grew to welcome you, as Phobos tended to be very generous whenever you accompanied him.

He’s willing to do anything for you, and this includes spending money. If you even glance at something for a millisecond too long, he’s already approaching the clerk to get it for you, no matter how expensive it is. He'd insisted on giving you things without you asking, so if it's clear to him that you want something, it's only right that he gives it to you. As your most loyal subject, it's only the most logical course of action for him.

The fact that you get so flustered and even try to refuse his gifts only motivates him to go further with it. Although it makes him feel oddly warm that he's the first to really treat you how he knows you deserve to be, it also annoys him that those in your world were such fools to not realize how they should regard you. So he'll just make his care for you so evident and obvious through his gestures that it'll make you realize you don't need anyone else.

You said you didn't want anyone else worshiping you like him, so you'll obviously agree with him on this eventually, right? It makes perfect sense.

("Phobos, I really don't need any of those," you tried to explain, tugging on his sleeve as he took the bags from the nervous grunt at the counter. It had been some cute plushies you eyed for long enough to get his attention, and he took the attention as a sign that you wanted them.

"Your Grace, whether you "need" them is irrelevant," he responded, turning to give you an uncharacteristically warm look. "Nevada's goods are yours; so long as you desire them, I'll do my best to get them for you, no matter what they are or how necessary they might be. Your needs are something that I'll take upon myself; you don't have to worry about that regardless. But as your acolyte, I can't leave you wanting for anything either. Please understand this."

You held his gaze for a moment before looking away, scratching the back of your neck with a silent nod. 'He's so stubborn,' you mused to yourself as you felt heat creeping across your cheeks. It's charming, in an odd way. Though you couldn't stop from feeling guilty over how much he spent on you, you guessed you could put up with it if it made him so happy - something that was obvious from how he purrs when you accept it.)

The way that Phobos spoils you is a way for him to show you just how much he cares for you and your happiness, so of course he’d be happy to drain the Nexus’ budget for anything your heart desires. (Or that he believes you desire, anyway.)

He loves you in a way he's never loved anyone else before, and he'll surpass everyone else in his effort to try and prove it to you. Besides, what fool would anyone deny a God what they're entitled to, regardless of their status in your following? You deserve to relax, so just let him, your eternally loyal God Emperor, take care of your every want and need, okay?