#working title: No Rest For the Wicked | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlejuicebox · 3 months

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The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

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If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay.

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality.

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully.

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin.

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face.

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige.

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance.

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell.

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf.

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him.

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring.

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last.

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darlingdekarios · 4 months

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abandon all hope.

RATING: explicit. 18+ only. — LENGTH: 9,131— Raphael x f![warlock]tav [reader]

CONTENT: being a patron is being a sugar daddy/mommy you can't change my mind, set during Act II canon, small amounts of alcohol consumption, toxic behavior/ expressions of possession/ownership, "fluff", SMUT [unprotected p in v], KINK(S) [praise kink, orgasm control, hair pulling, biting, scratching/clawing, blood, breath play, dacryphilia, just a little degredation, size], there's a lot of poetry in here I did my best, Haarlep cameo, the least Raphael could've done for killing an Orthon for him is fuck us ffs, have fun thinking Raphael is bad at sex I'm built different, this got out so out of hand

you had become his absolute favorite - his most precious client and prized treasure. it's become increasingly difficult not to admit that you're truly his forever...and he's ready to hear it.

"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."

It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.

Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.

"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."

It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.

His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.

"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.

For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."

Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.

"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."

Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.

Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.

"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."

His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.

The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.

"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."

There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.

It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.

"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."

It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.

"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?

He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.

A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.

"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"

You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"

His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.

"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."

"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."

"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."

The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.

"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."

Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.

The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.

It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.

"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."

"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"

He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.

Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.

His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.

"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"

Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.

"Not in this form."

All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.

Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.

"This is suitable for the foyer."

He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.

He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.

"You prefer me this way."

It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.

Was he afraid of your answer?

"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."

Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."

You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.

"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.

Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.

"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"

It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.

"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"

"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."

"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."

"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."

"Then you will make them."

You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.

After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.

"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"

The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.

That would certainly keep you from further insult.

"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"

You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.

Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.

"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"

There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.

"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."

A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.

"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."

His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.

"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."

He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.

The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.

"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."

Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.

You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.

"On one condition."

The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.

"We seal this contract with a kiss."

An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.

"And you talk about my theatrics."

Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.

And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.

Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.

It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.

He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.

"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."

It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.

The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.

He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.

*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).

It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.

"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."

One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.

The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.

A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…

For now.

Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.

So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.

"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."

"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."

You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"

Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.

"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."

With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.

The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.

You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."

"Haarlep."

Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."

You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.

"Oh, what fun we will have together…"

Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.

"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"

As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.

The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.

He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.

He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.

"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."

You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.

"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"

You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.

"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"

Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.

Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.

It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.

It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.

"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."

"Please, I need…"

Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.

"Do go on."

You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."

"Anything I'll give you?"

Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.

You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.

And all for him.

"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."

You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.

"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"

Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.

Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.

He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.

This is how he wanted you for him forever.

As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.

His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.

"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"

You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.

Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.

He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.

"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"

Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.

You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.

"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"

His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.

"Precious. I will try not to break you."

His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.

"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."

He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.

He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.

"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."

Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.

You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.

(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).

"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"

He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.

He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.

His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.

He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.

You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.

"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."

This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.

"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."

(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).

His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.

You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.

Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.

Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.

"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."

In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #raphael smut #bg3 smut #raphael fanfic

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wannab-urs · 4 months

Text

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you.

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here.

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH.

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming.

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet.

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners.

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?”

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading.

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?”

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap.

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file.

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work.

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner.

“So what are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe.

“Your plans? For your birthday?”

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet.

“Me and Murphy could take you out?”

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,” Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door.

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life.

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve?

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door.

“Peña? What are you doing here?”

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face.

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.”

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware.

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it.

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.”

“Fine… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you.

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better.

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you.

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little.

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip.

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty.

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue.

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips.

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.”

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you.

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you.

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.”

He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?”

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you.

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.”

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you.

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter.

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

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rookerchu · 5 months

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Dude I had a train of thought while I was at work that was cracking me up. FYI iron flame spoilers.

So Tyrrendor had its own king before the unification right and now it has a duke ruling over the province. And technically that duke is Xaden, or at least he's next in line. So when the third kingdom/country/whatever shows up and they play a critical part in defeating the venin at the end of the series, this third party sees the shit Navarre has put Tyrrendor through and announces that should Tyrrendor choose to secede they will formally recognize the new tyrrish king. And Xaden not wanting to be king starts to protest but before he can Garrick cuts in with something like "your majesty" because unflappable, unmoveable, unyielding Xaden Riorson is for once distinctly out of his league. Not to mention Garrick knows his friend would be a great king. And Xaden looks at his friend with just the utmost betrayal because how could he. And it's like

Unnamed foreign dignitary: we will recognize the new tyrrish king

Xaden: no thats not....

Garrick (grinning while lowering into a over exaggerated bow): your majesty

Xaden: stop

Bohdi (also bowing) your highness

Xaden: why are you doing this to me

Garrick: well you've already been filling the role just figured you should get the perks that come with the title.

Xaden: what perks? Bickering with council members?

Garrick: who are you bickering with we're in a time of peace?

Violet: me were gonna argue about what color drapes to hang in the throne room.

Xaden: black end of discussion

Garrick: so you accept?

Xaden (grinning his own wicked grin): i will make you my right hand and drag you into every council meeting for the rest of our lives

Garrick (grimacing): shouldn't that be Bodhi's job?

Bodhi: nope all you

Garrick: what about violet?

Violet: what about me?

Xaden: oh yes, you're coming too.... my queen *pauses* ok maybe I can get used to that

Then it would get more serious about how yes he would be an excellent king and all that he's given of himself for his people. Which of course ends with bowing/kneeling before him

And even though I think that if Tyrrendor seceded they would become a democracy, this was cracking me up for hours

#xaden riorson #fourth wing #iron flame #violet sorrengail #garrick tavis #bodhi durran #imogen fourth wing #the empyrean

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heluvaku · 8 months

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PAPER SOLDIER.

A Fyodor Dostoyevsky | BSD x Female Reader x Dazai Osamu | BSD Smut Fanfic.

warnings ; smut, pussy slapping, fingering, threesomes, degradation, biting, praise if you squint, orgasm denial if you get a magnifying glass, not proof-read.

author's note ; hihi !! sorry for my absence, im getting ready for school next week, and my birthday was this weekend :) im working on a fic that was dedicated to myself rn, so have this tiny fic. enjoy! funfact: all my fic titles are songs that i like ;p !

“Look at her, clenching around nothing. Pathetic, is it not?”

Dazai and Fyodor laughed with each other, degrading you as if you weren’t right in front of them. You knew not to speak unless spoken to, afraid of the punishment that would ensue if you had. After the two radiant men in front of you finished joking about your neediness, the Russian knelt down between your shaking legs.

“Do tell, Moya lyubov, how bad do you crave to have both of us inside of you?” he asked. Fyodor caressed your thighs, his breath fanning against your warm, sticky core. Instead of answering, you scoot yourself towards the demon's mouth, begging to have his tongue ravage you.

Disappointed, Fyodor pulls away from your legs and sits on his knees, giving you an insincere frown. You looked at the raven haired man confused, unsure of where Dazai went or why he was upset with you. Before you could even process he was now beside you, the brunette man’s hand smacked down on your cunt, making you jolt and yelp.

“We don’t want to do this, Bella. You’ve been such a good girl until now—” Dazai murmured. Using his middle and ring finger, he spreads you open, shooting a wicked smile at Fyodor; which he returns to him.

“—But you hadn’t answered my question. Disobeying orders results in a punishment; I thought you knew that well,” the rat keened. As if he read his mind, Dazai removed his fingers from your pussy and gave it another rough slap. Tears started to form; but all the two men did was chuckle.

“Wanna give it another go, hun?” the detective asked. He kissed your shoulder, resting his free hand on the other to massage you. “Maybe Fyodor’ll give you another chance..”

“Oh, but her teary, desperate eyes are gorgeous..”

“Indeed. But I’m sure she’s ready to redeem herself.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to fuck her?”

“So what if I do? If you didn’t want to as well, you wouldn’t be here,” Dazai teased. Listening to them bicker over you only made you wetter, which hadn’t gone unnoticed.

With a hum, Dazai kissed your cheek and slid his fingers back through your slit. You moaned, arching your back at the sudden pleasure. He moved his digits up, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive clit. “C’mon, baby. Answer his question,” he whispered.

Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Fyodor back between your legs, kissing and biting the inside of your thighs. Just the sight of him and Dazai’s fingers could make you cum, but another punishment is the last thing you want. You open your mouth to speak; but a whine leaves your throat instead.

“You’re not fucked dumb already, are you?” the Russian questioned. “We’ve barely even started, kukla.”

“It’s just a few words, belladonna,” Dazai said. His fingers dove inside you, slowly pistoning them in and out of you, “say what he wants, and we’ll make you feel amazing.”

“Here, I’ll even ask you again:” Fyodor starts, “how bad do you crave to have both of us inside of you?”

“S-So bad.. I need both of you to fill me up..” you mumble. Fyodor tutted you and shook his head with another frown. Sighing with dissatisfaction, the brunette pulled his fingers out of you. The tears that were in your eyes finally fell, hot salty streaks going down your cheeks.

“I’m afraid you need to be louder, darling. Just a little more, I swear to you,” the rat said. Dazai shushed you and wiped your tears while Fyodor kissed and nibbled on your thighs like a mouse with cheese. He always got so close to your quivering pussy, yet pulled away each time he did. “Go on, love.”

“So bad, Fyodor.. I-I need the both of you to cum inside me s-so much I pass out..”

“See, was that so hard?” Dazai teased, a punchable smile plastered on his face. If you weren’t in your current situation, you’d glare at him.

“Khoroshaya rabota, moya dorogaya,” Fyodor praised. “Now, get on your hands and knees..”

“It’s time for your reward.”

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

#⁺˚⋆✩₊ heluvaku works .#bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #dazai smut #dazai osamu smut #fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky smut #fyodor smut #dazai osamu #bsd x reader smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader smut #bungo stray dogs x reader

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haechansdoll · 1 month

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pamper - lee haechan x reader [smut]

Pairing : Lee Haechan x f!Reader

Description: It's just an innocent bath and massage from Haechan to his wife, Y/n along with some sexy action between them ;)

Warnings : sex.

Haechan knows that their anniversary isn’t for another few months, but if he can’t pamper the fuck out y/n whenever, then what is even the point of being in a relationship. He takes his title very seriously. ‘Husband” Married to a beautiful woman, meaning she deserves everything in the world. On a random Friday, he gathers a bouquet and y/n’s favorite takeout. The little things make their relationship ever-growing and get better by the day. Haechan loves to see the beaming smiles that grow on y/n’s beautiful face and the soft kisses on his lips when she comes into his arms for a long and meaningful hug.

So it’s no guess when Haechan decides that he wants to pamper y/n again but in a better way than ever before. Haechan is brilliant; he listens to y/n when she talks about things she has been thinking about for at least a few months. “A massage; maybe I should just set up an appointment.” Haechan then offers to do it for her, saying, “How about I call? You don’t have to worry about it any longer.” y/n is always surprised at the kind-hearted things her husband says to her. Haechan doesn’t schedule a massage for y/n. Instead, he takes the opportunity to fill the bathtub with hot water, but a few drops of lavender oil and a bath bomb for an extra measure into the mix. When he returns from the kitchen with a bottle of wine, the bath water has changed from clear to a gorgeous purple color with specks of sparkle everywhere.

He hears the door open with ease, and the recognizable heel sounds echo against the apartment walls. “Honey?” Haechan hears y/n shout, “Where are you?” Usually, Haechan greets his beautiful wife at the door, but instead, this time, he’s hidden away in the lavender-scented bathroom. Candles burn away as Haechan quickly gets up and finds his wife. “There you are. You are not going to believe the day I had,” y/n says to Haechan. “I bet I won’t, but how about you tell me when you get in the tub.” y/n isn’t sure what her husband said but follows his sweet guiding hand to their bathroom.

What awaits y/n has her almost automatically in tears. A hard day’s work washed away from the scent of lavender, and candle wicks burned in the air. “Oh, Haechan!” It comes out as a moan, a sigh of the day being over. “I’m glad you like it,” Haechan says softly while wrapping his arms around the front of her stomach, pulling her back flat against his chest. He presses soft and gentle kisses to her neck and cheek. Breathing in the sweet aroma in the air eases the both of them. “How about we get you undressed?” Haechan’s voice is soft and quiet, keeping the intimate nature of the room intact.

Haechan helps y/n unbutton the white blouse, gently sliding it down her arms as it lands in a small pile on the floor. Haechan falls to his knees next, searching for the small zipper at the back of y/n’s black pencil skirt. The material falls with ease down her hips and falls to her feet. y/n steps out and waits for her husband to undress the rest of her. Her panties and bra land in a different pile because y/n has taught her husband one thing: ‘Some clothes are delicate and can’t be washed with harsh materials like your jeans and jackets, Haechan.’

“Check the water and see if it’s warm enough, baby,” Haechan says to y/n and she dips her bare toes into the warm soothing water. She had no qualms with the temperature, so she stepped into the Tub and gracefully sat down into the relaxing hot steamy water.

The quiet of the bathroom and the little sounds of the sloshing water surrounding her are soothing. At first, Haechan doesn’t want to disturb the silence or comfort in the room, but he promises he’s listening to y/n’s day. “So you said something about your day, love?” His words are soft. y/n hums and then fills the room with her voice. She talks about her day, about that coworker who keeps piling her work onto y/n’s table. “Maybe it’s because I’m the head researcher, but I’m getting tired of taking this women’s shit.” Haechan does his best to calm his wife, rubbing gentle circles into her arms or pressing a few kisses into her ear.

Not until Haechan grabs the bottle of shampoo and starts to massage the roots of y/n’s hair does her fast words and frustration seem to ease away. Her head falls back, and her eyes flutter. y/n is in complete heaven. Haechan’s fingers move with great purpose over the scalp of his wife; every move he makes pushes y/n further into comfort. She doesn’t even notice the water dripping over her scalp to remove the shampoo or the silky feeling of Haechan’s condition-covered fingers falling into her hair. It’s not long after that when the water goes from warm to cold, way too cold for her to be comfortable.

So Haechan helps y/n out, grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around y/n’s body. The soft, fluffy towel engulfs y/n in warmth. Little words are spoken because, well, honestly, they don’t need words. Nothing will ever truly express how Haechans’s heart thumps faster whenever y/n is in his arms or how y/n’s eyes twinkle when she’s looking up at him.

Then Haechan went down the hallway towards their bedroom with y/n following after him. Her Bare Feet padded across the Hardwood floor making soft slapping sounds as she elegantly strutted her way to the Bedroom.

When she arrives in the Bedroom y/n’s heart skips a beat, because Haechan has placed more candles in the bedroom and another soft towel on the bed. “I know you were talking about getting a massage, but I was thinking, how about you let me do that for you?” Haechan says. y/n is in complete and utter shock, a suitable type of shock that it takes her a few minutes to understand what Haechan has just said. “y/n?” The silence isn’t a bad sign to Haechan, but he wants to make sure he’s doing good so far. “It’s perfect.” y/n’s voice is quiet and timid. It’s almost as if she’s scared to tell Haechan that she loves all the nice things he does for her. A smile grows on Haechans’s face, and he guides her to the bed.

“You’re okay staying naked like this for me?” Haechan asks. y/n eagerly nods while waiting for her husband to guide her onto the plush bed. “Good, now come lay down on your stomach,” Haechan murmurs to y/n, and she follows his words. With that, y/n let her towel drop to the floor and got situated on the bed, her stomach lying flat on the towel and her arms crossed under her chin to support her head, but Haechan quickly adjusted her arms, setting them down to her sides instead.

y/n couldn’t see anything besides the bedside table and the front of the headboard, so she stuck to relying on her other senses. The sound of shuffling feet tells her that Haechan is no longer at her side but somewhere behind her. The next sound that has her skin lighting up with goosebumps is the recognizable sound of the top of a lid snapping open, and then the liquid is poured all over her legs. It starts at just the bend on her knee. The oil pooled and dripped down her skin, “I’m starting with your feet.” Haechan says quietly, “Always on them, workin’ yourself to death over those damn research projects. I think my girl just needs to relax once in a while.’ Haechan murmurs as his hand comes around one of y/n’s feet. His hands are covered in oil, making them slip over the curves and edges of y/n’s feet. He’s got a whole process, taking care of each foot with care and ease. He rubs delicate circles into the arches of her feet, and then his large thumb rubs mini circles into her soles. “Those heels are makin’ a mess of your pretty feet, y/n.” He says to her, but y/n isn’t listening anymore. She focuses on not giggling or cringing away from the touch due to how soft and feathery it is.

The feeling only gets worse when Haechan moves away from the soles of her feet to her tiny little toes. Get toes gets its attention. Her big to first, which is easy enough, but when Haechan manages to get to her last toe, y/n can’t help but burst out with little giggles. Haechan smiles with joy as he knows that this is what y/n has needed for a long time. A night where she doesn’t have to be on her feet and she’s being cared for by her wonderful, caring husband. Haechan kissed Both of her feet then his hands floated up, slipping over her feet and calves. He works with ease on each leg. Pressing his thick fingers into her skin, he works out the thigh muscles before moving on to another section. It isn’t long before he’s worked his calves to her thighs, where he can see the slight jiggle of her flesh at every pass of his large hand on her skin.

The oil runs out after he’s completed both of her thighs, so the clicking of the bottle brings y/n back to life. She’s been so at peace she’s pretty sure that at one point, she even fell asleep, which was sort of the whole point. Regardless, the oil pours down her spine, pooling at the base of her hips. y/n’s skin glistens under the candlelight as Haechan gets his hand oily again and works on y/n’s ass. Playing and teasing with the plush skin. “Haechan…” y/ns moans out with a sigh of contentment. Haechan only hums, moving on and up y/n’s spine. Meanwhile, Haechan is sitting on the top of y/n’s ass as he rubs the heel of his palm into a tough muscle in her back. With every hard squeeze of Haechans's hand on y/n's back, a moan or sigh falls from her lips, to which Haechan asks, “Did that feel good?” or “I should do that again?” He never gets an actual answer, just another hum from y/ns' lips.

Haechan slides back down y/n’s frame, sitting back on her ankles. “y/n baby, you gotta roll over for me.” y/n’s motion is slowed down tenfold; she doesn’t move gracefully; instead, she moves over groggily. y/n may still be naked, but that didn’t mean Haechan wanted to make her uncomfortable. y/ns eyes are open now, looking up at her handsome husband. “Well, hello, beautiful,” Haechan mutters, a soft smile on her features. “Hello, handsome.” She replies, biting her bottom lip between her teeth. “Can I touch you, y/n?” He asks, and she nods. “You can touch me anywhere.” She says softly as his hands come up to grab at her hips.

Haechan bends down to slip one of y/ns’ tits into his large hand, squeezing and massaging at the supple skin. Her nipples are tight and stiff as his thumb grazes over the flesh. It’s not until Haechan’s mouth rounds, the skin of her tit, her moans start to fall from her lush lips. Her moans don’t fall on deaf ears; instead, he sucks harder, licking his tongue over the nipple, encouraging her to be louder for him. He sucks until y/n is nearly pulling him off of her tit, and then he takes the other in his mouth, giving just as much attention to it. y/n’s hands fall to Haechan’s hair as she pulls him in for rough teeth, a gnashing kiss. “I love you,” y/n whispers against Haechans’s lips before he descends her body and her legs open up for him. Her legs lay over his shoulders as he pressed sweet kisses into her flesh. Kisses are stringed against her stomach, then her thighs and inner thighs, before a soft and gentle kiss is laid atop her clit; from there, it’s like being in heaven.

Haechan starts to suck and give kitten licks to her clit as his two longer fingers probe at her entrance. Nudging at her spongy walls, warm and wet for him. He never once looked away from y/n, their eyes on each other as y/n sat up on her elbows to keep her eyes on Haechan and where they met. Her mouth falls open as his thickest fingers press into her womb, pumping in and out to massage her gummy walls. Haechan’s fingers are covered with her wetness, and y/n’s clit is swollen and red from the attack of his lips and tongue. Her wetness and Haechans’s droll cover his chin when he comes up for air. y/n’s moans fill the air around the two of them, her hands finding his scalp and pulling him back down to continue his attack on her sensitive clit, waiting, yearning to reach her orgasms.

The quick thrusts of Haechans’s fingers and the fast licks on his tongue on her clit push her over the edge as her fingers grab at the short hair of his scalp, and she screams out with pleasure. “FUck! Haechan,” Her walls squeeze him tightly as she gushes over them. As she rides her high Haechans licks are gentle, and the pumps of his fingers are softer, letting her ride out her orgasms longer. “Such a messy girl,” Haechan says into her skin as he slips his fingers out of her cunt; he doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he brings them up to his lips and sucks them. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. Haechan falls next to her, and they lay there trying to catch their breath before y/n rolls over her hips, falling over Haechan, and she pulls him up for a passionate long kiss.

Nothing rough in the kiss, but her lips are soft, and so are Haechans as they meddle together in each other embrace. Haechan grips her tightly in his arms, keeping her there when their lips fall apart. When y/n rolls her hips, and her wet cunt rolls over Haechan’s impressive hard-on, he stops her. “Not tonight, y/n. Let’s just go to sleep.” y/n tries to argue with him, “But I wanna make you feel good, Haechan.” He smiles and presses his forehead against hers. “You do. Now go to bed, and you can treat me to something in the morning.” Haechan says as a yawn falls from his lips, squeezing y/n tighter to his chest, keeping her in his forever-tight grip.

[[ hiiiiiiiii, It's been a while - how have you been??]]

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct imagines #nct haechan #haechan smut #haechan imagines #haechan scenarios #kpop smut #nct dream #kpop #nct #haechan x reader #donghyuck #lee donghyuck #lee donghyuk x reader

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dyingroses · 4 months

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Titling the communication note of a difficult shift

#ain't no rest for the wicked #protestant work ethic #lols #work life #work place #work memes #post #word documents #title ideas #title suggestions

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m1styp1nk · 2 months

Note

Could you please do a Lucifer x female angel reader?

Please 😫🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

˚₊‧꒰ა ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ❤︎ ʙᴀʙʏ ໒꒱ ‧₊ ˚

ʟᴜᴄɪғᴇʀ x ғᴇᴍ! ᴀɴɢᴇʟ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

synopsis: much like lucifer, you’d been a dreamer. you held high hopes for heaven, new ways to spread fantastical ideas for all of creation. however, you were denied of your ideas. you were seen as dangerous. and with that, you’d been cast out of heaven with the man that inspired you.

additional tags: female reader, not proof read, fluff-ish

a/n: i wasn’t really sure how to interpret this considering i had so many ideas for him with an angel reader, but this is what i settled on! hope you enjoy it, and i won’t at all mind doing a redo if this wasn’t quite to your liking ( ´ ꒳ ` )

He was divine; wishing to spread only good. It was how you had always envisioned Lucifer. You’d hear stories of how the elders talked about him.

“A trouble maker,” they said. The man seemed to be nothing of the sort. Undeserving of the title he was given “Dangerous,” they’d continue.

The man wasn’t trustworthy. Many of the older, wiser seraphim’s would warn you pathetically. Their words fell to deaf ears each time.

All the elders were aware of your curiosity and interest for the man, qualities in which good angels shouldn’t possess.

But you were a good angel. However the man you’d sought to learn about was ‘wicked’.

Though many of the seraphim’s believed you had redeeming qualities; ones that would make up for your yearning to be like the man deemed trouble.

“Go down to the earth,” One of the seraphs requested. “teach the two humans about the divine heavens above. Plague them with good.”

You’d obeyed their orders in any angels usual submissive manners. With four outstretched and feathered wings, you flew down to the earth.

The thought of failure never crossed your mind as it was too full with determination. With pride as you were sure you wouldn’t mess up.

Regardless of how prideful you’d felt, the last thing you had expected to encounter was the same man that clouded your thoughts.

The same tempting angel you yearned to learn of.

Lucifer had found himself interested in the humans as much as you were interested in him. And with the temptation, he couldn’t resist sneaking down and watching them from afar.

But things became all the more intriguing as you flew down from the golden gates of heaven.

You had a kind nature as you introduced yourself to the two humans. A sort of aura that had him infatuated. One that made him want to rid of his hiding spot and wish he was the you were introducing yourself to.

You taught the man, Adam, how to be less demanding. You taught the woman, Lilith, the virtues of being more compliant when truly necessary.

The garden grew more peaceful once you had arrived. One thing threw you off. The presence of a lurking angel you had tried desperately to ignore was ever there in the first place.

You had noticed Lucifer on multiple different occasions. When you’d teach the pair of humans about certain sins, you noticed the way his head would peak from behind a tree and stare.

Not at all was he interested in what you would teach them. He was interested in you.

You tried to ignore him, silent prayers that he’d grow bored of you, despite you not wanting him to. You only hoped you knew better than to get distracted by the charming man from the work the seraphim’s expected you to accomplish.

But Lucifer drew you in like a magnet.

And you were fine with being his iron.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

The Garden of Eden was peaceful. A soft stream of water, animals lurking in every corner, and soft tufts of grass stretching across the horizon.

It was beautiful. A restful place.

But even with the comforting air, a certain angel still flooded your mind. One you felt staring at the back of your head for far too long now.

You weren’t sure when he would decide to finally reveal himself. In truth, you don’t even known how long it’s been since you’ve arrived at the garden. How long it’s been since you’ve been in heaven. And part of you couldn’t help but wonder if being sent here was a punishment.

That maybe if you’d kept to yourself instead of telling the seraphs of your interest in Lucifer, you wouldn’t feel homesick so often.

With your eyes settling on the tree of forbidden fruit in front of you, your body sank further into the bright green grass you lay on.

From the bush behind you came rustling.

A sigh, taking the place of a restrained laugh, escaped your lips. Now you weren’t sure if he was being so ‘non-secretive’ on purpose.

You moved to sit up, pulling your legs to your chest as you wrapped your arms around them for more security.

It wouldn’t hurt to finally start a conversation with the angel you couldn’t help but feel was stalking you now.

“Are you as troublesome as they say,” Your voice came out as a whisper, but melodic nonetheless.

The rustling came to a halt, few dark green leaves with cracked edges falling from the bush.

Even with how silent your voice was, he still heard it. And he was all ears.

This time, you couldn’t stop the giggle falling from your mouth, the corners of your lip upturning into a smile that reached your eyes perfectly.

Rather convenient he finally chose to quiet down.

He was caught. He knew he’d been for a while now. He noticed how your captivating eyes would catch his only for you to turn away just as quickly.

But Lucifer didn’t quite know yet if he was ready to finally introduce himself to you.

Though the way your voice was like that of a singer; smooth and rich, he couldn’t help but wash away the hesitance he previously held.

In just hearing your voice, it vanished.

“Well?” You hummed, letting your legs fall as you turned to face the bush you knew he was hiding in. Question is; will he continue to hide in it?

“You don’t exactly look like trouble, Lucifer.” It almost made him melt, the way you said his name. The feeling he’d felt when you said it with such kindness was unlike anything he’d known.

His red eyes stared at your soft features through a small hole in the bush, his pupils dilating unnoticeably as he examined you from up close.

He truly didn’t expect for you to see him.

But that doesn’t mean he’s mad that you did.

Your already sugary-sweet smile softened once you lowered your body closer to peer through the makeshift hole in the bush.

“You’ve been hiding here quite the while,” You stuck a hand into the bush, ignoring the feeling of the sticks that poked and pricked at your skin, “i’ve noticed you staring at me.”

Lucifer knew that. But hearing you admit it to him still made an comfortable warmth rise to his cheeks. And it wasn’t long until the hand you pushed through the barriers of the bush made it directly in front of him.

His eyes stared at it for a few passing moments. When he took notice of the way it urged closer to him, he got the hint to hold it.

With his mouth still sewn shut, he raised his hand, willingly placing it on yours.

Your hands were smooth. Gentle and soft. Nothing like his due to him ravaging through different bushes to hide in.

Lucifer didn’t receive much time to bask in the feeling of your hand in his, as a harsh tug to his arm broke him out of his thoughts.

In moments he was pulled out of the bush.

You stared at him, slightly shocked by his appearance. He was short but wore a large hat. And unlike you, he had an extra set of wings.

He stared up at you, mouth hanging open as if wanting to say something but staying quiet. He had leaves scattered around his clothes, some making their way to his light blond hair.

This was the man the seraphs called dangerous?

“You’re gorgeous.”

The words fell from his mouth faster than he could stop them. This time, your mouth opened. It stayed that way as an obvious pink blush slowly be and more and more evident on your face.

“What?”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

After your short encounter with him, visits with Lucifer became more frequent. It was usually you who would start the conversations. Considering he was still rather embarrassed of the first words he said to you were.

But he didn’t stop with his compliments. If anything, he’d grown relentless with them.

Though afterwards he’d fly off before you could say a thing.

You were the first ever person to make him feel such a way, you truly were an angel. A beautiful one. He regretted not falling for you sooner.

Eventually, he’d grown comfortable enough to get out of his hiding spot on his own and without you dragging him out of it.

That only strengthened your friendship with him.

You couldn’t comprehend why the seraphs had thought so lowly of him. His ideas were brilliant.

Just like he was.

Sometimes, as Lucifer would lay with you on the grass of the garden, he couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted things to change. He liked life in the garden; life with you.

But his rebellious side got the better of him one day. You had an argument with Lilith, Adam, and Eve. Lilith refused to be his wife. And she convinced Eve to do the same.

When you told Eve it to listen to Lilith, she had stormed off. You begged Lucifer to get her while you dealed with Adam.

Lucifer would never deny you. He would never deny the first woman he loved.

So he flew off to get her. But when he had finally reached her, she was at the forbidden tree.

As she reached up for the red fruit, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. But he found himself wanting to encourage her to take a bite.

So he did. As did Lilith as she found herself following the two. So Eve ate the apple.

Founding out what Lucifer had done, the seraphs sent him and Lilith down to hell for it.

And they sent him there without your knowledge.

You didn’t notice he was missing. You were trying to calm down Adam, trying to understand why the man you fell in love with was taking so long.

It wasn’t until a seraphim flew down to retrieve you, til you understood. You failed.

You got distracted and blinded by love to the point you ignored your given task of putting the humans first. You failed to stop Eve and Lilith.

And so, you suffered the same price as Lucifer.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

It was his fault. And he knows it. But he didn’t mean for this to happen.

Lucifer never fell in love with Lilith. And he certainly never meant for her to fall for him. As for Eve, he never loved her either.

There had only been one woman he fell for, only one angel he was truly devoted to.

Maybe that’s why Lilith had left him.

To fill his own emptiness of living in a foreign place without you, he married Lilith. However, she realized the way he’d struggle to tell her he loved her. She noticed the way he would twist the ring around his finger as if wearing it bothered him.

But Lilith stayed. She stayed until she heard the way your name fell from his lips.

He understood why she left. And he understood why his own daughter hated him for it.

He thought he could love someone that wasn’t you. How wrong he was. You truly were heaven-sent. There was no one else like you.

When he was condemned to hell, he was sure he would never see you again.

Lucifer didn’t struggle to remember the feeling of happiness and bliss that was overwhelmed him when he did see you.

Fitting into heaven was easy. Dress yourself with a smile and a contempt look. In hell it was the opposite. You stood out amongst sinners.

A benefit to Lucifer.

As the depressed king of hell, Lucifer didn’t often take walks outside. He didn’t care for the scenery, for there was not much to be seen after all. Nor did he care for his people.

To him, nothing good could ever come from wandering about the streets of the pride ring.

He’d much rather be in his home, lying in bed and reminiscing of his time with you in the garden.

The way you would climb the trees effortlessly, despite your well-working wings. The way you would offer a hand to him when he struggled to climb the tree as fast as you did.

He missed it, he really did.

He missed your face and your touch. Your hands were always soft. When you would hold his own hand, it was delicate. When you would pry at his wings, you touched them as if they were fragile.

He missed that. He missed you.

He missed someone he thought he’d never have within his reach again. But he relished in the joy that overcame him when he was proven wrong.

You looked as beautiful as the day he first met you; the day you first held his hand. Beautiful but tired a d restless. Hell wasn’t the place for you.

And it showed.

But if you have him time, heard him out on his relentless apologies for being the reason you were in hell in the first place, he could show you it isn’t that bad if your surrounded by the right people.

And he was the right person.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Words couldn’t explain what Lucifer thought of you. Especially now as you sat in front of him.

The man didn’t change. And neither did you.

He was short, but as you sat on a small wooden bench in a bleak and burnt park in hell, he stood above you. And god were you breathtaking.

Captivating and angelic, just as you had been on Eden. He was sorry; he truly was. Lucifer knew he was the reason you were down here.

“Luci?” The nickname made his knees weak. And with your voice which, contained a heavenly quality to it, only numbed his heart even more.

But the frown on your lips soured the moment.

“I’m sorry.” Lucifer’s voice cracked almost uncharacteristically. “Y/n, I’m so sorry-”

He knew he much hope the seraphs held for you when you tasked with watching the humans. He loved you. He really did. The last thing he wanted was to ruin everything for you.

But he went and did that anyway.

You watched as Lucifer’s face scrunched up, his eyes watering the longer you stayed silent. You hated how you felt. Wanting to be mad at him all while wanting to hug him and kiss him; two things you never got the chance to do before.

Instead, your arm reached up to where Lucifer stood in front of you. Your hand barely brushed against his cheek, but he was quick to lean into your touch. To say he was starved of it was an understatement.

Lucifer’s lips trembled lightly as he took in your presence, basking in it. He moved his hand up, gently placing right on top of the one you had on his pale cheek.

“It’s okay,” Your voice was captivating and reassuring. Maybe a portion of you was still mad at him. But whatever had been there was promptly drowned away.

A tear left his right eye, one your thumb tenderly wiped away. “I could never stay mad at my Luci.”

Stumbling upon him was unusual. But it wasn’t horrible. He was simply the last face you thought you’d ever see again. Though you had no complaints.

In a quick second, Lucifer’s arms wrapped around your body.His body was bent down to hold your sitting one, his head buried into your chest.

He couldn’t bear to lose you. Not again. He lost Eve, and he had lost Lilith. But their absences didn’t effect him nearly as much as yours did.

The hug had shocked you, but you didn’t hesitate to envelope him in a warm hug.

Lucifer’s largest wings tore the fabric on his back to come out, eagerly wrapping around your. Your wings were smaller, but did the same.

“You really are a dream come true, Y/n. A perfect angel.”

The words were muffled, his mouth pressed against the surface of your neck as he spoke.

Hell wasn’t as perfect as the garden of Eden was. But to Lucifer, anything was perfect for as long as you were around.

Your being alone illuminated the dark pits of hell you’d both been trapped in.

And Lucifer was fine if you were the only star lighting up his dim path. He was fine with you being his star. His Morningstar.

God, he couldn’t wait for you to take that name.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin x y/n #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n

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unholyhelbig · 3 months

Note

Would love some Kate Bishop angst

Title: Past Tense

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4027

Summary: Kate Bishop returns to her hometown unexpectedly following some bad news. She's shocked when she runs into you and struggles to grapple with her past choices.

Warnings: Funerals, hurt/comfort, drinking, work injury/ burns, spelling mistakes and grammar issues (I'm sure)

[A/n: Hello! Just a little disclaimer, this is probably going to be the last thing I can publish for the rest of the month. I've got a massive work project, I move this coming weekend, and it's my birthday at the end of the month so my time is quite limited. But things will pick up again next month]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Day had barely broken over the horizon, but the world around you was impossible to ignore. There had been snow the night before, something that everyone believed was too cold to be possible. A thin layer of ice had encrusted each car before the soft, powdery type had built up on windshields and culminated under tires.

Large, wet flakes swirled around you and despite the gloves that clung to your skin, they didn’t do much for the numbness in your fingers as you fumbled with the keys to the coffee shop. Moisture had wicked through the fabric, and you hastily took them off before flicking on the house lights.

It was just past 5am and the usual crowd of early risers were soon to arrive. You made quick work of starting all the machines, the cooling cases and the manual grinder. Your baker had been in earlier, filling the displays with various muffins, baked goods, and sweets. A smooth cinnamon scent filled the air and warmed you all over.

“Son of a bitch!” the muffled exclamation formed a smile against your lips.

MJ was bundled up in a sweatshirt, a flannel, and a heavy winter coat over that. Her boots were caked in dry snow. There was a deep red blush against her nose and her cheeks that accompanied her scowl.

“Language, there are children present.”

“We’re the same age!” Peter protested as he pulled himself through the back door. He was dressed in less layers but sported the same winter complexion. He shook the large flakes of snow from his sweater, mumbling “Son of a bitch.”

It was cold enough to warrant you closing the shop. Most of the schools and the businesses in town had called for a snow day, something that didn’t happen often in Connecticut. Frigid temperatures were expected. Below freezing was a way of life and the world didn’t stop craving warm coffee to thaw them out.

This fact was proven when you flipped the open sign and the typical crowd of tired eyes started to line up at the counter. Peter typically had too much energy, so MJ took up the register while her counterpart flitted around and filled the orders. Most were to-go.

You’d known these people for years. They’d come in with a habit that was unmatched by the weather and the any other obstacles thrown at them. Before you opened up ‘The Grindhouse’ you’d gone to high school with them.

Through all the proms, and the homecomings, and the house parties that left you vomiting in the yard amongst their parents’ flowerbeds. Since then, you’d grown up and couldn’t stomach more than a few shots or two glasses of wine, tops.

They’d grown up too, those who had stuck around town. They had families and businesses much like yours. You had homeroom with the accountant that had helped you hedge your money in the correct places, and you made the same bacon, egg, and cheese English muffin for the star football player that blew out his knee senior year.

“Welcome to Grindhouse,” you said distractedly at the sound of the bell above the door, working on clearing the fallen grounds from under the espresso machine. The rag was damp and the floor was already coated in little brown specs that needed to be swept up during a lull.

“What can I get started for you?” MJ asked in her usual cadence.

“Just a plain black coffee, please.”

Your body froze at the sound of the voice, hair falling into the gaze that you refused to lift. There was a strange mix of emotions in the pit of your stomach. That voice, with it’s familiar rasp was one you hadn’t heard for years. Nearly a decade. But it couldn’t be her, could it?

She’d left for New York right after high school. The last you heard, she’d become a doctor. An unrivaled cardiothoracic surgeon that flitted around the world wherever she was needed. There was no reason for her to be back in this small, freezing, end-of-the-earth town.

“That’ll be 2.25, we have cream and sugar on the far wall, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you.”

It was her. It was most definitely her. There was a crispness to her voice that you’d recognize anywhere. The last you remembered; it was whispered with a quickness that rivaled her hands. Her hands were everywhere. They were warm and calloused and gentle.

There was a sudden bubbling heat against the side of your hand. You hissed through your teeth and pulled back from the espresso machine. There was a large bubbling welt on your skin and a string of curses ready at your lips.

“Jesus, y/n are you alright?” Peter was at your side in a moment with a wet, clean cloth that he had run under cold water. “Do you need the burn kit?”

“No, no. I’ll be alright. Thanks Pete”

He was so attentive and clocked you with a worried stare but you reassured him with the squeeze of his shoulder with your good hand. If you were going to fly under the radar before, it would be impossible now.

You glanced over the counter, pressing the cloth even closer. Your suspicions had been confirmed by the tepid gray stare that met yours. Shock simmered behind Kate Bishops gaze, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

Suddenly, you felt dizzy. She looked a bit older in the face, more experienced. There was life there, a form of living that had lowered her shoulders and sealed her lips. The Kate you knew was a bumbling mess- but med school had effectively changed that.

“y/n,” She regarded you.

“Hi, Katie.”

That lopsided, sloppy grin was still the same. It reached her eyes and brightened them. You cradled your hand and reveled in the silence. Peter and MJ had frozen in place, flicking their eyes from you and then back to her.

“Want me to take a look at that hand?”

“What are you doing back in town?”

The two of you spoke at the same time and dissolved into nervous laughter. You shook your head. “I thought you were a surgeon?”

“I know how to treat a burn, y/n, don’t insult me.”

You often prided yourself on your strong will. If you had a weak one, it would have been impossible to build this coffee shop up from the rubble that it once was. Kate Bishop, Doctor Kate Bishop, had a way of melting your resolve.

Peter shoved the small plastic first aide kit into your hands and shoved you forward. There was no choice to hide your stumble other than a confident stride towards her. She led you to one of the tables that spanned the windows at the storefront. They were lined with frost, a biting cold fighting to get its way in.

Kate had about a half-inch on you and radiated a type of warmth that was unmatched. When she grabbed your sleeve and dragged you to a sitting position right across from her, you were practically putty in her hands.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you.” She spoke without looking at you, unlatching the kit and pulling on the blue latex gloves with practiced ease. She couldn’t see the look of shock on your face. “This place is beautiful. I remember when it was that pizza place.”

“Ah, pizzapocalypse. Who would have thought that a combination shooting range and Italian restaurant would fail?”

Kate chuckled and tenderly pulled your hand closer. Her touch was barely a whisper against your skin, strands of black hair falling into her eyes. She examined the angry red mark. It had already started to blister. The espresso machine was kept at unbelievable levels of heat.

She grabbed one of the wrapped applicators, using her teeth to tear away at the wax paper. Kate squeezed a small dollop of burn cream onto the end. You hated the cloudy clearness of the substance.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you too, you know?”

“Have you? This might sting a little bit. Do you want a countdown?”

“No, just do it I’m a brave- Fuck!” She’d already started, and you gave her a vicious glare. She shrugged with that infuriatingly perfect grin of hers. “I thought you were in New Zealand for some medical internship.”

“New Hampshire, actually. Not as exciting, I know. It was going well, but Eleanor died.”

There was a tightness to her voice. Typically, you looked away from anything involving wound care. If you were to get a shot, you’d stare at a small spot on the wall that interested you. Drawing blood was more of the same, it was just harder to ignore the needle in your arm.

Kate was working hard at the bandage in her hand and finally pulled it apart. Despite the frustration etched into her features, she applied it with a certain level of care. You didn’t’ say anything. Your hand was throbbing uncomfortably.

“She was old, we knew it was coming and pancreatic cancer, well, it’s a bitch by the end and Susan asked me to fly in for the funeral. How could I say no to that? Flying in for my mothers funeral when I was too busy working to witness her descent?”

“Katie,” You breathed out.

“That should be healed up in a few days. Make sure you change out the bandage.”

You couldn’t’ get a word in edgewise before she started to shove the contents of the case back into their proper places. The chair made a horrible scraping sound that you felt in your teeth. Kate grasped her coffee, colder than it was a few moments ago.

“Thank you for… this. I’m sure it’s delicious.” She had her hand on the door. Her quickness was unmatched. Both in and out of the OR, from what you had read. But she paused, looking at you for a moment. “I’m proud of you, y/n. This place is great. Really.”

Kate had vanished into the whiteness of the blistering day. You watched her navigate the snow with ease. Eleanor had died. How could you live in such a small town and not have heard about the woman’s passing?

The Bishop family was always a private bunch, and with Kate moving right after high school graduation, you hadn’t any reason to go past those wrought iron gates. Kate’s older sister would stop by for a hot drink once every other month or so, but you saw her coming from a mile away and selfishly hid in the back.

Eleanor had died.

There was a softness to her that you remembered fondly, a memory of Kate and you as children in the heat of summer. You’d been stung by a wasp and cried and cried until Eleanor rushed into the yard and scooped you into her arms.

Much like Kate had just done with her soft ministrations, she fixed you right up by applying a mix of warm water and baking soda. An old family remedy, she said. The venom had stopped screaming and the tears eventually stopped for both you and Kate.

Eleanor was a kind, if not private, woman. One that you thought of daily when you clocked the photo of High School Graduation on the dusty bookshelves in your living room. Your own mother hadn’t attended, but Eleanor was right there. She was right there.

“Who’s the girl?” MJ drawled out, leaning heavily on her hands, a goofy look on her face. Peter was next to her, doing the same, both eyebrows raised.

“Kate… She” You picked up the plastic first aide kit. The two of you had a habit of not sitting still and it was better to move to replace the supplies then let them sit out here. Besides, a customer could walk in at any moment. “We were engaged.”

Peter shot up “What?”

“It was a long time ago, it’s not important.”

“You were engaged, I think that’s important. How old are you?”

“First, rude, second; old enough. And really, guys it’s not a big deal. Both of us moved on. Life happened.”

They exchanged a look that, in the past, had never meant anything good. MJ had her arms crossed over her chest and Peter leaned heavily on a broom he had grabbed, hugging it lose to his chest. You rolled your eyes, attempting to ignore them both was impossible in a place this retrospectively small.

“I don’t know, boss. The way she was looking at you… maybe neither of you really moved on.”

“I write your paychecks; you understand that right?” You turned to face them. “Kate and I are done. We have been for a long time. She made that very clear when she gave the ring back and I refuse to push the matter.”

It was collecting dust on your bookshelf next to the photo of your graduation. It was a small emerald, green box that you hadn’t opened since you resituated the diamond ring. It had been stupid to propose, a last-ditch effort to get Kate to stay. She’d said yes. And then she said no.

The baker’s old Subaru wouldn’t start because of the bitter cold. It sounded like an old wife’s tale that made you chuckle to yourself while reading the text that popped across your screen.

Before you had hired him for the long nights, you’d done the baking yourself and it wasn’t a horrible chore. You’d just have to down some caffeine and slam it out; trays filled with mini cakes, with quiches, donuts and cheese tarts. It was like a methodical science project with the bonus of eating the food that didn’t look edible.

It was midnight by the time you’d pulled the first couple trays from the large industrial oven and exhaustion was starting to bay its head. You weighed the option of going home and just spreading out the pastries in the case.

All thoughts of sleep left your mind when a rapid banging filled the store. The front glass doors were being tugged upon. And while you were more than willing to die in this coffee shop, being robbed was not the way you wanted to go. There was less than three hundred dollars in the register.

You grasped at the broom, your hands covered in flower and caked on the bandage that was applied earlier. Another round of bangs as you tried to stay low and reach for the cordless phone. There was a silhouette outlined by the gray white of the snow.

Doctor Kate Bishop.

She’d given up on her breaking and entering and pressed her forehead against the glass, her breath fogging it up. It was hard to tell, but you were sure her eyes were clenched shut. There was a brown paper bag in one hand that looked suspiciously like a large bottle of alcohol.

Your grip was tight on the broom, even as you felt confident, and a little sad, about opening the door. Kate fell forward and a blast of cold enveloped you. She made a small noise at the back of her throat, regaining her posture.

“Were you going to sweep me to death?” Kate asked, “I brought whiskey.”

“Here I thought you weren’t going to come back here with the way you ran out earlier, and now you arrive with gifts?”

It was a low blow, but she had shrugged her shoulders with her goofy grin and snow in her messy hair. “Come drink with me, just for a little bit in our old spot. Don’t make me play the dead mom card.”

Saying no to Kate had always been hard for you. It had been hard when you were children and she dared you to jump from high places, always stopping you by the collar of your shirt before either of you got hurt. And it was especially hard to say no to Kate in your teens when she would kiss hot trails against your throat, marking them with bruises. Not that you were rushing to deny her.

“Really?” You asked, “Aren’t we a little old to be caught sneaking booze in the gym?”

Both of you knew for a fact that the side doors leading into the school would always be open. There were no alarms, or flood lights, because it was a small town and nothing bad ever happens in a small town.

She jutted out her bottom lip into a pout “Y/n, my mom died.”

“Okay, alright. Let me lock up.”

Kate stayed quiet on the three-block walk to the school. It was shrouded in darkness, an inky black despite the swirling gray of the night sky. Your high school had been the largest in the county; two floors filled with classrooms. You’d stuck to the same ones and Kate was the life of the party wherever she went, the bright spot in an otherwise dingy room.

The bottle of alcohol dangled by her side as your footfalls crunched over ice and an ugly brown slush of snow. It felt normal, almost, walking with her. Being with her. Staying in town was a brave choice after being dumped and equivocally left at the alter. You had powered through the looks and the whispered accusations. But some part of you was relieved she’d chosen this interaction to take place in the middle of the night.

When you’d gotten to the double doors of the large gymnasium, Kate’s boot slipped on a particularly nasty spot of ice. Instinctively you grasped her arm and righted her. She thanked you silently before pushing into the warmth of the space. The motion censor lights flicked on and you squinted against them.

“They built a new one, you know? A gym. I think they still use this for craft fairs. Fundraisers. But all the big stuff is off site in this state-of-the-art center.”

Kate blew out a breath, shaking her head. “Remember when Tommy Shepard broke your nose with a basketball?”

“Yeah, I do. I also remember sneezing right after and spraying him in blood. Everyone else was grossed out except for you.”

Kate dropped onto the large eagle in the center of the floor. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, and the bottle was idling between them. You let out a small groan as you joined her. Neither of you had ever been bold enough to inebriate yourselves in the crest. Instead, you’d hide behind the fold-out bleachers that were pushed against the walls, but this would do.

“That stupid EMT wouldn’t let me get on the ambulance with you.” The seal on the bottle cracked viciously, much like your nose, as she unscrewed the cap.

“And I told you I didn’t need to go the hospital. I think I was a liability, though.”

Kate laughed, taking a deep gulp from the bottle. It hit the back of her throat and she hissed in response before thrusting the whiskey your way. You took a smaller sip, let it coat your tongue and burn your stomach.

The mood had stilled, and she took another swallow before setting the bottle between the both of you like a vice or a buffer. You couldn’t decide what.

“Eleanor had very specific instructions in her will. She… shit, she planned her whole funeral out before she died in her morbid meticulousness. She picked white lilies, and a beautiful black casket. She already had a plot of land picked out in her family plot. Music picked out. A fucking guest list.”

You fought the urge to reach out and comfort her. So, you grabbed the bottle instead and gulped down a bigger heaping than before. The amber liquid was dipping down behind the black wrapper.

“The only thing she didn’t do was write her eulogy. No, she left that up to me as one last fuck you because that’s how she operates. She didn’t’ ask Susan to write it, or my dad. She asked me because I’m the one that left home. I’m the one that left her.”

The worst thing you could do was agree with Kate Bishops dead mother. And you didn’t, really. You’d always been happy for Kate. This town was too small for her and the lives that she saved were plentiful. But some selfish part of you understood where Eleanor was coming from.

You were possibly the worst person she could go to with this issue and by the frown on her face, she knew it too. For the longest time, you were there for each other. And if Kate had called out of the blue and asked you to go to New Zealand or New Hampshire, or whatever; you would go.

She’d do the same, you were sure. One call, one letter and she’d be here. But neither of you were brave enough to reach out and heal the wound that festered between you. You pulled your knees up to your chest, rested your chin against them with a quiet breath.

“Maybe you don’t need to write anything. Maybe you can just… say how you feel.”

“Yes, because that has worked out so well for me in the past.”

“Fair point, but she was your mother, not a fling. Even if you don’t have a script planned out, it’s worth just feeling the moment. No matter how shitty that moment is.”

Kate inhaled and held that breath in her chest for a few seconds before pushing it out. Her eyes searched you in a probing way that made your skin prickle. Blush started to claw its way up your throat. You’d blame that on the alcohol, you always were a light weight and it showed in your complexion.

“Is that what you think you were?” her voice was a low and raspy whisper “a fling?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You never say anything you don’t mean. All you’ve ever done is calculated and well thought out. You’ve always had a plan.” She looked down at the frayed edges of her jeans, playing with the strings to avoid looking at you. “You were my everything.”

Your voice was a quiet murmur. “Katie,”

She reached out, her warm hand wrapped around your wrist in a tender display of affection. Her eyes met yours and it was the longest the two of you had stared at one another without breaking eye contact. Your stomach was a pit of nerves and heat.

“That scared me when we were young. It fucking scared me out of my mind how content I was with you. I was ready to risk everything, to settle down in a small house and wake up every single morning next to you.” She drew in a sharp and shuddering breath “But we were young, and I hadn’t lived life and that scared me even more.”

“I know, Kate, I know. I shouldn’t have proposed, and I certainly shouldn’t have put either of us in that position. You were right to turn me down. You were right to move on and fight for the future that you deserve.”

Kate sniffed, using her free hand to wipe away the few crystalline tears that dripped across her cheeks. You found yourself pulling her close, letting her sob into the crook of your neck as you held her, your arm wrapped around her center to stabilize her.

Things were boiling over and the tension that had been weighing on her shoulders since she’d first shown up in town started to slowly drain. She missed her mother, she missed you, and that wasn’t something you were willing to process on the crest of the school’s gymnasium.

Kate’s fingers were curled into the fabric of your shirt, and eventually, she settled. Her nose was cold against your pulse point and the bottle of whiskey had been long forgotten. As self-centered as it was, you wished you could hold her forever. Feel her touch on yours for something other than a reminisced sadness.

“If you asked again,” Kate mumbled into the collar of your shirt “If you asked me again, I would say yes.”

“I know, Katie. I know.”

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x y/n #Kate Bishop x you #Kate bishop x reader #Hawkeye #Hawkeye fanfiction #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #hurt/comfort #Ask #I promise Kate Bishop actually has a sister #Susan Bishop

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lieutenantfloyd · 1 year

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“No Rest For The Wicked” - T. Wolff

Formula 1 masterlist

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Team Principal!Reader

Summary: In the weeks before the start of the season, you, being recently appointed Team Principal, have been working harder than ever. During your shared lunch break, Toto notices how obviously worn out you are and insists you use his office sofa to catch up on some sleep.

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, mentions of overworking and not sleeping/eating enough, mutual romantic feelings, friends-to-lovers trope, very slight Implied age gap if you squint. Also, reader's team is fully up to you to choose! (Ferrari TP is my personal favorite).

a/n: Executive dysfunction has been kicking my ass for the two months but I finally finished something I’ve been wanting to write and am pretty happy with :)

- Prompt: A standing guard outside B's office as they take a short nap during lunch break so as to make sure nobody interrupts B's much needed rest. Taken from this post !!

With your new job title and the start of the Formula 1 season fast approaching, on or off the paddock you were who everyone on your team turned to. Meaning that you were practically on call at any and every hour of the day. Despite all the pressure and stress, you wouldn’t want to be doing anything else. Unfortunately, your life outside of work, including your social life and sleep schedule, had taken a massive hit.

Exiting yet another meeting, you bid goodbye to several of your team's engineers and head off down the hallway. As you walked you rolled your shoulder back and glanced down to check your watch. The shiny clock face informed you that It was just before one. By some miracle, your schedule had allowed you to meet up with Toto for lunch and had even granted you enough time to exchange your things in your office before heading over to the Mercedes garage. You quickened your pace and soon entered your office. You placed your usual work bag on your desk chair and grabbed your laptop, a water bottle, and a few snacks. Your plan was to work through lunch and hopefully catch a late dinner, but you knew Toto wouldn't let the hour pass without you eating something.

You had first met Toto when you were a tender footed engineer and he himself had only just been named team principal. Despite spending your careers in different (and often competing) garages, you and him were both grateful to find a genuine friend and confidante in your fast paced lifestyle.

Crossing the paddock, you entered Mercedes territory and landed in front of his office door in record time. The door was already cracked open, allowing you to enter without much fuss. You secured your grip on your belongings before quietly pushing the door fully open. Toto was on a business call as you arrived, but he made sure to send you a wink and a wave.

- Once fully inside, you staked your claim on a small part of the couch and the adjacent coffee table. You opened your laptop and began answering emails while grazing on the snacks you had brought along. You answered the first several with ease, but it wasn’t long before you were doing your best to fight the familiar sense of tiredness creeping in. Stretching, you pushed back against the couch and tried to refocus your eyes.

Another several minutes pass before you hear Toto end the call. Looking up from your laptop, you notice Toto shift his attention to you. He examined you for a long moment before sighing. A soft disapproval flashing across his eyes.

"You seem tired," he stated. Your heart panged as you catch the edge of concern in his voice. Despite your best wishes, you knew you couldn't lie to him. Even if you did, he knew you far too well to fall for it.

"I am, but it's nothing I can't handle." You said cautiously before turning back to your work. For as long as you knew him, you were confident he always had your best interests in mind. It was one of the many qualities you loved most about him. But this wasn't a conversation you wanted to have right now.

"Have you been getting enough rest?" His voice cut through your thoughts.

"Yep." You answered. But even to your ears, your words sounded unconvincing.

As expected, he raised a teasing, albeit unconvinced, eyebrow. Informing you of what you already knew; that he saw through your words instantly.

"No." You admitted with a huff. You were disappointed but unsurprised you relented so easily. He always did have that effect on you.

"That's what I thought."

You watched silently as he pushed away from the desk and stood. The room wasn't very large, so it only took his tall frame a few strides until he was standing in front of you. Seconds later, he plucked the laptop from your hands and made a dramatic show of saving your work and powering the computer off. Your eyes had initially widened at his actions, but you didn't protest.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how silly the situation was. You were a grown adult. (more or less) capable of taking care of yourself. But that’s just how your relationship with Toto was. Always looking out for each other. With that in mind, you knew better than to argue. He'd never relent, and frankly, you didn't have the energy to spare.

Setting the laptop back down, he spoke softly.

"I remember my first few seasons. You feel that you must dedicate yourself entirely to the team, but you're no help if you can barely keep your head up."

You simply nodded at his words. Your shoulders slumping automatically. A welcome symbol of defeat.

"If it was up to me, I'd send you home. But I know you don’t like to take my advice, so-” he paused just long enough to shrug off his coat.

It was less than a split second lapse, but damn your tired brain for forgetting to conceal the sharp draw of your breath at his action.

Likewise, further damn the terribly adoring look he shot your way.

You thought back blessedly to the moment early in your career when you learned to make mental notes and urgently committed a fresh one to memory: follow up on what the hell that meant the instant you’re thinking clearly again.

“-It's not much, but even just an hour of sleep on an office sofa is better than whatever you have, or haven’t, been doing." He finished, tossing you his coat-turned-makeshift blanket.

The moment your head touched the cushion, you knew he was right. To your fatigued body, the couch might as well have been a king-sized bed in the finest hotel.

And from Toto’s point of view, the scene at hand was just as pleasing.

It took an unreasonable amount of inner strength to subdue the fervor blossoming in his chest as he watched you shamelessly snuggle into his coat, roll onto your side, and let out a sigh of satisfaction. It also took a nearly equal amount of strength for him to step away from you.

"I'll be just outside the door if you need me," Toto said. But he wasn’t entirely sure if he was stating this fact for your benefit or for his own. You mumbled softly in apparent agreement, already well on your way to a much needed nap.

"And when you wake up, we can discuss dinner plans." He voiced under his breath, closing the door silently behind him.

#toto wolff x you #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #Formula 1

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yoonia · 1 year

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The Bedroom Hymns | myg ● fic teaser

⟶ Summary | Being the only daughter of the Wicked King has kept you living in a sheltered life. Never once were you given the chance to see the world beyond the walls of your father’s old castle, and yet, it had never stopped you from hearing all the dark rumours of your father’s indiscretions which had left you to continue living in the shadows.

When the day comes for your father to send you to live in his castle by the sea, he leaves you with a new rule set in place. You are left with a set of keys, one which would lead you to travel through the thousand magical doors inside his castle, but you are to never leave through the front door or to step foot through the golden door at the end of the hall. The magical doors become your escape, giving you the chance to see the world that you had never seen before. Until one day, your life changes as one of the magical doors leads you to the Fairy Prince.

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns; a Bluebeard Retelling ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Princess!reader, Strangers to Lovers au, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale Retelling au ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; nothing yet for this teaser, but I will add warnings as I continue writing this ⟶ Estimated word count | 40k words ⟶ Teaser word count | 2,1k words

⏤ Written for the Once Upon A Fantasy collab

⟶ Author’s note | As the result of my latest poll, you have chosen for me to finish this story first out of the rest of my April WIPs. Thank you so much for everyone who voted! If you are interested to join my fic taglist, please enter your information here. If you are only interested to be tagged on this fic, please only enter your url in the replies.

𝕺𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊, 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕬𝖜𝖆𝖞…

Stargrave castle.

The castle with 1000 doors which was built right on the top of the Earthpeak cliff, the ocean edge of the Nythelean Empire’s territory. You have learned a little about this castle on the morning you first arrived, under the guidance of Lord Gordan, the royal advisor working for your father, King Aneas.

You have only been here for less than a week, and you know for sure that you still have much to learn about this castle. The place that is to become your new home. It still feels foreign to roam through the hallways, and you constantly find yourself being amazed at how expansive this place is compared to the manor you have been residing in since your childhood.

No, this castle was said to be your real home.

Your father himself had said so. This is the place where you were born. The place where you had once lived peacefully and happily with your father and mother together, before the Queen tragically passed and you were taken away while you were still a young, helpless child. This is the place that holds the old scars and the wounds that your father must carry with him for many years until he lost all of his happiness and his warm smile.

No wonder he kept you away from this place for so long.

The darkness terrifies you when you try to step out of your bed chamber at nightfall. The long corridors feel like a maze, with numerous doors and several open galleries welcoming you whenever you get lost on your way. Oftentimes, you only feel safe when you are in your private chamber, or when you are having your high tea with Nanny Abigail in the garden, where you would find yourself wasting time until the sun sets each day. There is never a day passed when you didn’t miss your old home, the Seacrest Manor. But as days continued to progress, you soon realise that if this is where you are to spend the rest of your life, you must soon make it your mission to make this place home.

Surely, it wouldn’t be such a hard task to do, would it?

Not with Lord Gordan and Nanny Abigail by your side to guide you through it. And now that you are finally back at the home castle, you will also have more time to spend together with your father compared to how it used to be before. That would certainly help you learn more about this place, about the home territory that you were never allowed to see, and maybe help fix the fragile bond you have between you and your father.

Or so you thought.

“I have to be away for at least six weeks. There are matters needed to be dealt with and it would be too taxing of a journey if you should join me,” your father suddenly announces on the first day of your second week of being home. “Make this castle your home the best you possibly can while I am away and enjoy yourself. You might need help to go around the castle in my absence, so here—”

You barely find the words to respond to him with when he suddenly grabs your hand and places a heavy set of keys right at the center of your palm.

“Here are the keys to various rooms within the castle. As you may have noticed, we have many doors right here at the home castle that has been kept locked because I am always away and you haven’t been back home, and I am the only person who has the access to each of them. Now, you will have the ability to open them all by using these keys.”

You keep your eyes on the keys in your hand, studying them closely with pure interest as your father explains this. Varied in colours, sizes, and materials, they look nothing at all like any set of keys that you would normally see for regular houses or manors. Not even your old home. Your father falls silent for a moment before he continues to explain what the keys are for, his small smile is hidden while you are not paying attention to his face, but simply to his voice.

“These are the keys to the storerooms; where I keep my best furniture and gifts from the many Kingdoms I have visited,” he says as he picks the ones made of brass from the bunch. “Make use of them as much as you need. You can also bring some of them to fancy your bed chamber should you need any changes to be done and make your stay comfortable.”

Hearing this only excites you. For days, you have been thinking of how plain and boring your new bed chamber is, and have been wishing that you were able to take some of your old belongings to fill your room with. Your father seems to be pleased to see your reaction, and continues by pointing at the slightly smaller-looking keys which seem to be made of bronze.

“These are the keys to the treasure rooms; where you can find all the silver and gold plates that I have gathered through my journeys, the casket of jewels which are part of our family treasure, and the safe where I keep all the money which belongs to the family,” he explains, while you are left speechless at how easy he is to hand over such a huge responsibility onto you. As if sensing your doubt, your father raises your chin so he can look at you straight in the eyes and say, “You are free to use them all to fill your needs, as long as you use them wisely while I am gone.”

You swallow hard and nod. There is something in his stern voice that demands your attention, letting you know that there is an underlying threat hidden in his warning, that you have no other choice but to pledge, “I will be responsible for them, Father. I promise.”

“Good. I have faith in you, Princess,” he says, sounding relieved but still cautious, and then he looks down at the keys to point at the pair that looks slightly bigger than the rest. “Now, this is the master key to all the private chambers, including yours and mine. You can use my room or my study should you need them. And this one will take you to the main library. I know that you love your books, and you shall find everything you may ever need to learn more about this land.”

Hearing about the library, all of the disappointment you felt about your father being gone begins to shift, and you start feeling a semblance of hope. If you cannot earn the information that you needed from your own father, perhaps you would be able to find your answers among the books in the library. Maybe you can also learn more about this realm, and how your father’s empire somehow exists between the two realms—the human realm, and the magical realm within the land Far Far Away.

Still with your eyes on the keys, your attention is drawn towards a pair of keys that seem to sparkle brighter from the others, calling for your attention. You look at them both with awe, amused by how magic seems to appear even in the smallest things you can find in this realm. Just like the keys you are holding in your hand.

You study those keys closely without saying a word, marvelling at each detail. One key is made of silver, while the other from gold. Both of them are glowing brightly and are nearly humming with an enticing aura as if they are made with enchantment. It makes it hard for you to look away, as if you are completely drawn to them, unable to ignore their presence and their calling.

“What about these keys, Father?” you question your father when your curiosity gets the best of you.

King Aneas leans closer just to have a better look, even if it is quite obvious that he could already tell which keys you were referring to. With gentle fingers, he pulls the silver one from its bunch. “This silver key will take you through the doors with the silver embellishments. Those doors you may enter, but only under a few specific rules.”

For some reason, his voice sounds ominous as he explains this. You look at him curiously, wondering why this key demands certain rules to be followed, unlike the others. Looking at your father’s face helps only a little to reassure you, as his face is completely stern when he begins to explain,

“Beyond the silver doors lies a strong kind of magic. One that has been so demanding of our family’s powers, and also the type of magic that should be kept secret, no matter what. Once you go through them, you will understand why it is important for me to defend this castle and our home territory.”

As you listen to his explanation about the silver doors and the magic behind them, your curiosity grows stronger. Living in the Seacrest Manor has kept you from learning anything about magic, and now that you are suddenly thrust into the place where magic seems to thrive, you feel eager to learn and experience them yourself to understand everything better. And that curiosity strengthens once your father continues to give you the rules that you must follow,

“You are free to visit each of these silver doors only for one visit each day. You must make sure that you will never remain on the other side of the door of your choice for more than six hours and you must always, always, only return home by going through that very same door you came from. Can you remember this?”

Suppressing your eagerness so as not to make him worry, you simply nod and promise, “Yes, I will remember,” while making sure to remember every detail, every warning, so you wouldn’t make any mistake to disappoint him in the future.

Just as your hope of learning new magic arises, the golden key begins to vibrate in your hand, calling for your attention. Noticing where your eyes are drawn towards, your father’s expression turns grim.

“This golden key—” he says, gently lifting the key from the bundle as he tells you more about it, “—will allow you to open the twin doors at the end of the great gallery on the top floor of the South tower.”

Your eyes grow wide with interest, recalling the night you first arrived at the castle and how the South Tower seemed to be calling your name. You feel the curiosity building, your eagerness to venture to the hidden parts of the castle rising, only to deflate when your father says,

“This one, I must forbid you to use.”

You stifle a gasp and question him. “But why, Father?”

Your father’s expression grows even darker once he takes notice of your interest in the golden door. He places both of his hands on your shoulders before you can ask more. “Never open the golden doors. Never walk past it, and never look what is inside,” he demands with a voice that comes out as a warning, before he softens and begs you, “Princess, I need you to promise me.”

Once again, you are left speechless. Baffled by his demands, yet his voice leaves you no chance to argue that you can only give in and say, “Yes, I promise.”

The King remains silent for a brief moment, as if he is trying to read your thoughts, wondering if you are hiding any intentions of defying him. But then he sighs, and your father finally lets you go with a reassuring nod.

“Good. Make sure never to forget this. Oh, and there is one more thing that you must always remember—” he quickly adds before you can say anything. “You are free to roam about through these doors — of course, except for the golden doors — but you are not to leave this castle by stepping out through the great door at the front gate. Not when I am not around, and never without a guard.”

You find this instruction quite odd. Just as odd as his rules and warnings regarding the magic doors, but you dare not to question him, understanding how little your knowledge of magic is to begin with to help you argue against his demands. So you put all of your curiosity aside, choosing to gain his trust and confidence as you promise him,

“I’ll remember.”

⟶ Estimated posting date | TBA; (hopefully) by the end of April 2023

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